TOHU

Mes ancêtres 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 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.

Do you hear the Tui call the Huia in the trees

In the weeks before she died my grandmother saw a Ruru in her room, an owl I believed this was a good omen a messenger.  My grandmother also saw lots of people come to visit her, people that most others didn't see.  But it was the Tuis heard by my sister around our grandmother's house and in the trees that seemed to have the clearest of messages. Waking before dawn still adjusting to a new time zone and re-awkening to an old world I too would hear them call.  Their song a melodic chorus reminded me of their visits to the Kowhai tree which grew outside my childhood home.  An iridescent blue black with a white tuff around its neck it is easy to see why the early european settlers called the Tui the Parson Bird.   The Tui though has much more to offer than religious platitudes.   My grandmother was going blind so hearing their dawn chorus must have been a comfort and a soothing sound to wake to.

The Tui is endemic to New Zealand.  Other native song-birds include the Kokako, the Piopio and the Huia the latter two both now extinct.   The story goes the Huia was the first to sing the dawn chorus.  Once it had called out to the rising sun the other birds would join in.   We can only imagine what the sound must have been like.   Today we hear a fraction of this song and it is the Tui which has taken the role the Huia once claimed.

My grandmother was impatient to die declaring that neither God nor the devil wanted her but she still had things to do and tasks to complete so she lingered longer than anyone imagined.   People from the past and present sought her company knowing that the old woman would soon be travelling on.  Before I returned to New Zealand she came to visit in my dreams.   In one she called out in fear of the dark but was soon comforted by a beautiful light and the arrival of a large ship.  In another we sat in my great grandmother Rongoheikume's wharenui while my grandmother sat reminiscing with my grandfather who had passed many years previously.  In the last she came just before I woke to say goodbye.

My grandmother was superstitious.  Once when we gathered in her dining room upon hearing of the death of a family member a Piwakawaka flew in and circled above us chatting before flitting out.   She didn't like this.  Nor did she like peacock feathers as she believed they brought bad luck.  And as she got older her home became a place of memories of people who had died and she became a little afraid.   Afraid of the dark.

The Tui's call at dawn must have been a heart warming sound for a woman whose world was becoming smaller and darker as her eyesight failed her.   Refusing to move out of her home, she dwelt in a place which must have felt desolate at times but for the blessing of her carer a devoted and loving woman and the visits of family and friends.   My grandmother persevered.

When I visited earlier in the year I could see she was getting ready to travel light.   Letting go of hurts and giving thanks for life my grandmother was ready to die.   Philosophical and with a wicked sense of humour  she had journeyed through a life at times  treacherous and dark but she carried on.   She was tough, her mind and heart ticking over with a steady beat.  Even close to death she requested she be woken if a visitor came to see her.  She loved people and in her last few months she had a steady stream of visitors.  I believe she also found the visits of the Ruru and Tui a blessing but more than anything it was the song of the Huia I hoped and imagined she  would wake to.  The song of a gatekeeper to the seventh heaven the Huia would be the guardian which when the time came would carry my grandmother up through the trees and beyond to a place where she would rest and laugh and be.

On an overcast day we gathered.   The women of the family carried her coffin out of the house and the men carried her into the chapel.    I stood before them as a priest and a grandson.  Family spoke and sang, cousins offered beautiful words and prayers in maori, a poem written by my brother  inspired and an Irish blessing was shared.   And as we lowered the coffin into the grave on the day that was also my birthday I imagined her, glint in eye with a glass of vodka in one hand regaling all with rude stories and naughty jokes and I smiled.

BEANNACHT (Irish for blessing) by John O'Donohue 

On the day when The weight deadens On your shoulders And you stumble, May the clay dance To balance you. 

And when your eyes Freeze behind The grey window And the ghost of loss Gets into you, May a flock of colours, Indigo, red, greenAnd azure blue, Come to awaken in you A meadow of delight. 

When the canvas frays In the currach of thought And a stain of ocean Blackens beneath you, May there come across the waters A path of yellow moonlight To bring you safely home. 

May the nourishment of the earth be yours, May the clarity of light be yours, May the fluency of the ocean be yours, May the protection of the ancestors be yours. And so may a slow Wind work these words Of love around you, An invisible cloak To mind your life. 

Photo of Lake Taupo by Hana Ransfield.

"Do you hear the Tui call the Huia in the Trees"   Words from the Song "Reconnect" by Maisey Rika.

Wharenui - House

Piwakawaka - Faintail (type of bird)

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,