TOHU

Mes ancêtres maoris sont arrivés à Aotearoa[1] nom en langue maorie de la Nouvelle Zélande, à bord du grand waka[2] Arawa[3] après avoir navigué à travers le Pacifique Sud avec pour seuls guides les courants océaniques,les étoiles,le soleil et ce désir profond,cette force qui animent tous les grands navigateurs.

J'ai grandi dans ma ville natale de Taupo au pied du Maunga[4] Tauhara, un volcan endormi au centre de l'île du Nord. Pour nous, c'était la femme enceinte endormie car c'est ce que sa silhouette évoque. Enfant,je pouvais l'apercevoir depuis la fenêtre de ma chambre et je me souviens encore très nettement de l'immense incendie qui a défiguré son sommet ouest. À chacun de mes retours à Taupo, je guettais son apparition et le voir, m'apportait toujours du réconfort, le sentiment d'être enfin chez moi. Sa présence est devenue à tel point partie intégrante de mon quotidien qu'il a commencé à apparaître dans mes dessins et mes rêves.

J'ai gravi le Tauhara à plusieurs reprises. Depuis son sommet, la vue panoramique s'étend sur le lac Taupo et vers le Sud sur les montagnes Ruapehu, Tongariro et Ngãuruhoe. Ma dernière ascension remonte à quatre ans et s'est révélée plus difficile que dans mes souvenirs. En m'arrêtant régulièrement pour faire des pauses, j'ai prié les arbres et les tuis[5] de me donner de la force, avant d'atteindre enfin le sommet où mon ami m'attendait patiemment.

Le Tauhara était et reste pour moi un point de repère majeur.

Mont Tauhara, Taupo, Nouvelle-Zélande

À une vingtaine d'années, j'ai commencé à voyager. Je suis arrivé à Londres au début des années 90. Sans montagnes, la ville semblait relativement plate comparée à ma ville natale et la nuit, une brume orangée, fruit d'un mélange de pollution lumineuse et atmosphérique, masquait la lumière de la lune et des étoiles. Il était alors indispensable pour un voyageur  de cette époque d'avoir un guide"A-Z" pour se repérer, livre certes utile mais encombrant d'où mon idée de le consulter puis de recopier et dessiner un plan sur une feuille de papier. C'est ainsi que les monuments et les stations de métro londoniens sont devenus des indicateurs plus efficaces de direction et de position. 

Ma quête de repères a persisté.

Parallèlement à réalisation de plans, j'ai appris à peindre des icônes religieuses orthodoxes. Ces icônes m'ont fasciné de part la portée de leurs "sermons visuels" destinés à guider les fidèles car plus que de simples oeuvres d'art, je les concevais davantage comme des textes religieux à lire non pas au pied de la lettre mais avec la volonté d'en saisir le sens profond souvent au coeur du mystère.

Trente ans plus tard, j'ai quitté le Royaume Uni pour l'Europe réalisant ainsi un rêve de toujours : vivre et travailler dans une région où, jeune étudiant en art, j'avais admiré les oeuvres de grands artistes parmi lesquels Vasarely et Cézanne qui, à mes yeux ont marqué le paysage artistique. J'étais loin de me douter que je finirai par m'installer en Provence, région qui a été si importante pour eux.

Le Grand Marges, Provence, France

C'est le Grand Margès qui m'a accueilli dès mon arrivée à Puimoisson.

Cette montagne du Var présente une ressemblance frappante avec Tauhara. Fasciné, je l'ai peinte chaque jour pendant quarante jours en utilisant des pigments de Roussillon dans le Luberon. J'ai envoyé ces petites oeuvres aux quatre coins du monde à mes amis et mes proches. 

Un de mes cousins a suggéré que le Grand Margès était mon TOHU.

En langue maorie, ce mot désigne un signe, un symbole, une marque ou un présage qui guide et oriente le chemin de vie.  C'est vrai qu'aujourd'hui le Grand Margès est devenu pour moi un point de repère, un emblème d'une grande importance, un point de référence. Depuis ma nouvelle demeure, je le contemple chaque jour. Il change fréquemment de forme et de couleur, disparaissant parfois totalement pour ne réapparaître que lorsque les nuages se dissipent et que la pluie cesse.

Vers quoi m'oriente -  t il ?  Je cherche encore la réponse mais pour tenter de mieux comprendre, de saisir où je me trouve, où est ma place, mon appartenance, je continue à peindre et à dessiner des cartes.

Le Grand Marges 2026

[1] Aotearoa : nom maori de la Nouvelle-Zélande, signifiant “Terre du long nuage blanc”.

[2] Waka mot maori désignant une pirogue.

[3] Te Arawa : confédération d'iwi et de hapū (tribus et sous-tribus) maoris, et nom de l'une des pirogues utilisées par les premiers Maoris lors de leur migration.

[4] Maunga mot maori pour montagne.

[5] Tui : oiseau endémique ; les premiers colons anglais l'ont surnommé « l'oiseau-pasteur » en raison de son collier blanc.

Un grand merci à Thérèse pour la traduction.

TOHU

My Maori ancestors arrived in Aotearoa[1] in the great waka[2] Arawa[3] having navigated their way across the south Pacific by the stars at night, the sun by day, the ocean currents and an inner desire and strength found in all great navigators. 

In my hometown of Taupo, Aotearoa, New Zealand I grew up at the base of the Maunga[4] Tauhara a dormant volcano in the centre of the north island. We grew up knowing her as the sleeping pregnant woman.  Her form resembling a slumbering figure on her side.  I climbed Tauhara a number of times where at her summit there were panoramic views over Lake Taupo, towards Ruapehu, Tongariro and Ngāuruhoe mountains to the south. Tauhara was and is a significant landmark.  As a youngster I had a direct view of her from my bedroom window and have vivid memories of a great fire that swept up and over her western summit.  When I travelled away from Taupo I would seek her as I returned. When she came into view there was always a sense of reassurance and being close to home.  I was aware of her every day and she started to appear in my drawings and my dreams.  My last visit to Tuahara was four years ago where I decided to trek to her summit. The climb was more difficult than I remembered. Stopping for regular breaks I prayed to the trees and the tuis[5] to give me strength finally reaching the top where my friend was patiently waiting.

In my late teens and early twenties I started travelling further afield.  Arriving in London in the early 1990’s it was necessary for all travellers to buy an A-Z guide to find their way around. After a while though it became annoying to carry a bulky book so I would often check the guide and then copy and draw a map on a piece of paper.  This worked sometimes.  London landmarks and underground stations became more effective indicators of direction and whereabouts.  There were no mountains and the city seemed relatively flat in comparison to my hometown. At night star or moonlight was often blocked out by an orange haze , caused by a mix of light and air pollution  But my search for signs continued.  As well as drawing maps, I studied and learnt how to paint orthodox religious icons.  Understood as religious texts more than art I was captivated by icons and the significance of these “visual sermons”, created to guide the faithful.  I was taught Icons are to be read like religious text, not literally but with a desire to seek deeper understanding, often in the midst of mystery.

Thirty years later I left the United Kingdom for Europe honouring a life-long dream to live and work in a part of the world where as a young art student I had read the stories and loved the art of so many great artists.  Two being Victor Vasarely and Paul Cezanne. Both being significant map creators in my mind.  Little did I know I would end up in a region so important to both.

Le Grand Margès greeted me upon my arrival in Puimoisson.  A mountain situated in the Var department, Provence, France she bore an uncanny resemblance to Tauhara.  Enamoured I painted a view of her every day for 40 days using pigments sourced from Roussillon in the Luberon, and sent each small scene to friends and family around the world.  My cousin suggested Le Grand Marges was my Tohu, a Maori word meaning a sign, symbol, mark or omen guiding and directing me in my life journey.  Le Grand Marges became a sign-post, a landmark of significance for me. From my new home I look out towards her every day.  She often changes form and colour, and sometimes disappears completely before reappearing when the clouds lift and the rain stops. What is she pointing me to?  I am still trying to answer that question but to try and seek some understanding, a sense of where I am, where I belong, I continue to paint and draw maps. 

[1] Aotearoa the Maori name for New Zealand meaning “Land of the Long white Cloud”

[2] Waka a Maori word for canoe.

[3] Te Arawa a confederation of Maori iwi and hapū (tribes and sub-tribes) and the name of one of the canoes   that early Maori migrated in.

[4] Maunga , Maori name for mountain

[5] Tui, native bird.  Early English Colonialists named it the parson bird due to its white collar.

The Black Robin

The Black Robin and Archangel Michael

The Black Robin lives in the Chatham Islands off the east coast of Aotearoa, New Zealand and like many birds they have had an immense struggle to survive as a species.   The Black Robin had succumbed to the introduction of pests like rats and along with the destruction of their habitat stood very little chance of survival.  Extinction seemed inevitable for the robins.   In 1980 there were only 5 individual birds left in the world!   They existed on a windswept scraggy rock called Little Mangere Island and of these 5 there was only two females and of these 2 only one was fertile.  Her name was 'Old Blue'.    With the plight of the robins being so dire the New Zealand Wildlife Service had to act quick.   Don Merton an experienced conservationist set in motion a plan to move the remaining birds to Mangere Island and have eggs from Old Blue incubated by Tomtits.  Through trial and error and over a number of years the Black robin population slowly increased.  Today there are about 250 Black Robins all descended from 'Old Blue' who lived to the grand old age of 14 which is a remarkable feat when the average life expectancy for the species was between 4 - 10 years.    Thanks to Old Blue, Don Merton and Kiwi innovation the Black robin continues to be still with us today.

In this icon dedicated to 'Old Blue' we see her take flight as Archangel  Michael the protector of the universe oversees and guards the whole of creation.

Prints are available here

Horomatangi

I grew up by Lake Taupo.  It has always been a beautiful place but just under the surface of what can be at times a perfectly still and mirrored lake is a bubbling cauldron of thermal activity.  Lake Taupo is a huge crater lake.   I myself have nearly drowned in it three times but Horomatangi hasn't managed to get me yet!

A taniwha in Lake Taupo.

This fierce taniwha lives by Motutaiko, an island in Lake Taupo, in an underwater cave on the western side.  People used to avoid the island because Horo-matangi, if he saw them, would lash the water into high waves, overturn their waka and carry them down to his cave.  This happened in good weather as well as bad.

At times Horo-matangi assumes the form of a reptile, or the form of a black rock.  Some say he is an old man red as fire.  His attendant Atiamuri, a taniwha in the shape of a man, was not dangerous in himself but would act as a decoy, attempting to lure unsuspecting travellers in Horo-matangi's direction.  At twilight he would paddle a waka towards a settlement by the lake, going just near enough to be dimly seen.  When the villagers called a welcome, he would disappear into the darkness and they would realise that Atiamuri had been trying to lure them to their death.

Many people have considered Horo-matango to be the custodian of the mana of Lake Taupo.  Certain tohunga were his mediums, such as Te Ihu at Tapuaeharuru, who was said sometimes to live with him in his cave.  As well, Horo-matangi is associated with two stone dogs high up on the Karangahape cliffs, on the lake's western shore.  These dogs are never seen but may be heard howling on misty mornings.  If paddlers on the lake were ever foolish enough to insult them by pointing their paddle or calling to them, Horomatangi would at once send a storm.

The Illustrated Encyclopedia of Maori Myth and Legend.  Margaret Orbell  Canterbury University press 1995. pg. 67

Regan O'Callaghan 'Horomatangi' acrylic painting, taniwha, Lake Taupo, Mount Ruapehu, Mount Tongariro,

Today I heard a Blackbird sing

Today I heard a Blackbird sing.

I often sit in my studio painting in silence.  I can be down here for hours and not see or speak with anyone.  But it is never truly silent. The inner conversations that go on in my head remind me of many things, jobs that need to be done and memories of friends I miss.  In the very still moments emerges the subtle feelings of aloneness which speak from deep within my being, a part of my being I call the sacred space. This voice I need to listen to.

There is a Blackbird that regularly sings outside my studio it also digs up the moss in the roof gutters of the Church Hall looking for worms and leaving the moss flung onto the pavement below.   I think it is probably doing the church a favour as it is unblocking the gutters ready for the next downpour!   I love it when the Blackbird sings as its song pierces the silence of the studio drowning out the tick of the clock and this mad priests ravings.

The Blackbird is naturally a forest dweller but with the forests being cut down it has learnt to adapt to suburban and city living.  This ability to adapt has meant that it has thrived while other birds have disappeared. In New Zealand where it was introduced it has prospered so well that many New Zealanders think it is a native!  Its darting through gardens and prancing on lawns while shrilly declaring its territory is now truly etched into the psyche of the nation.

This ability to adapt doesn't come naturally to all species and certainly not to all humans!  A general observation of western society might suggest it is the voices with the loudest shrill demands that gain ownership and domination of territories while the quieter types flitter about in the background!   However this is not to taint the Blackbird with our own quirks of nature.

For me the Blackbird is a symbol of strength and adaptability in an ever changing world. Its vibrant black plumage, yellow beak and ringed eye speaks of a bold character who perseveres come what may.  Walking home I often see it darting under and between parked cars on tarmac roads.  A harsh and unforgiving environment surely so foreign to it that I feel sad and yet I am thankful that this remarkable little bird is there.

Photo a detail taken from a work in progress.The Almighty and the Blackbird2011.

For the Love of Birds.

"Hope is the thing with feathers

That perches in the soul,

And sings the tune without the words,

And never stops at all"       

Emily Dickinson

I spent part of my childhood on a farm a few miles out from a little town called Taihape in the North Island of New Zealand.  I have a very clear memory of asking my stepfather if there were any Kiwis in the surrounding countryside.   There were none.   Kiwis are forest dwellers and the forest had been cleared a couple of generations before to make way for sheep and cattle.   The trees that dotted the landscape were mostly introduced species like the plum trees in the orchard where I would spend time climbing and hiding or the big Macrocarpa trees behind the dogs kennels where Magpies roosted and sometimes dive bombed.

I loved birds.  One of my first pets was a Australian cockatiel named Joey.    He lived in a cage but was often let out and eventually when we moved back to Taupo released into a large aviary in our garden.  Around this time I also had a pet magpie who as a young bedraggled sick looking bird wandered onto our property.  I nursed him back to health.  He flew around our neighborhood and would return when I whistled.  One day he just disappeared.    I like to think it was the call of the wild.

I started painting birds at an early age.  Seabirds, parrots and owls all appeared in my work and I was fascinated by the very rare New Zealand birds most people hadn’t seen or even heard about.  The Hioho, Piopio, Huia, Takahe, Hihi and others inspired me and saddened me at the same time.  Some having become extinct.  In Maori culture birds have an important role.  Its not surprising they feature so prominently as Aotearoa was originally a land of birds.  There were no land mammals except for bats.  Birds ruled.  This all changed with the arrival of man and rats, stoats and possums.

Gone but nor forgotten.

On the day my father died I went round to my grandmothers.  A few of us gathered to share our feelings and begin to discuss funeral plans.  As we talked a Pīwakawaka ( a small bird with a fan tail)  flew into the room and flitted around us twittering before darting out.  To some including my superstitious grandmother this was a bad omen.  For me I saw it as a beautiful sign, a sign of hope.

Birds feature in my art often as symbols of hope and as representations of dreams of  fluttering wings and haunting birdsong deep from within forgotten forests.    The story of God promising that ravens would bring food to Elijah is a reminder of something we often choose to forget.  We need birds.  They remind us of the beauty of the world and its mysteries.  Their flight is inspirational their song heart moving.    Without them we are lost.  The now extinct Huia is a case in point.  There is a story that says the Huia was the first bird to sing at the rising of the sun and once it had started singing all the other birds would join in with the dawn chorus filling the land with song.    Today the Huias song has been silenced along with much of the song of creation.   The remaining forests in New Zealand are virtually silent.   Thankfully the conservation movement in New Zealand is working hard to protect what is left.

Gone but not forgotten.

 “Elijah and the ravens”Oil pastel on paper1996.