VOLUME 16.1
In this edition of Halekulani Living, we celebrate artists, makers, and stewards of nature and culture who source materials, meaning, and purpose from the world around them.
At his studio in rural Hauâula, sculptor Jerry Vasconcellos carves native woods and stones into enigmatic sculptures. Artist Ruthadell Andersonâs vibrant textiles, featuring colors and fibers inspired by Hawaiâi, evoke a sense of place. Photographer Michelle Mishina chases light to create enchanting and captivating images of her island home.
Others have made an art of stewarding the abundance that surrounds them. As an alternative to the petroleum-heavy boards that dominate the industry, Bizia Surf is transforming invasive albizia trees into high-performance surfboards. In Waialua, a young farmer is supporting the movement for food security at Sweet Land Farm, Hawaiâiâs only certified commercial goat dairy. And at Lyon Arboretum, a public botanical garden in MÄnoa, a seed lab is working to save Hawaiâiâs most critically endangered native plants.
In a place so steeped in culture, we also celebrate those dedicated to perpetuating the traditions, aesthetics, and values that have shaped these islands. Hear how the performing arts troupe Ukwanshin Kabudan is connecting members of Hawaiâiâs Okinawan diaspora with their culture through music and dance. Also ahead, learn the origins of The Waitiki 7, a band of conservatorytrained musicians dedicated to keeping the sounds of mid-century exotica alive, and who delighted audiences during their sold-out shows at House Without A Key this past fall.
Please enjoy this issue of Livingâwe hope that it sparks creativity within you.
ããŠãŠã©ã®ç°åå°åž¯ã«ããã¢ããªãšã§ã¯ã圫å»å®¶ã®ãžã§ãªãŒã»ãŽ ã¡ã¹ã³ã³ã»ãã¹ããã¯ã€ã®åçæãç³ã圫ããè¬ããã圫å»ãå¶äœã㟠ããã¢ãŒãã£ã¹ãã®ã«ãµãã«ã»ã¢ã³ããŒãœã³ã¯ããã¯ã€ã«ã€ã³ã¹ãã€ã¢ãã ãè²ãç¹ç¶ã䜿ã£ãé®®ãããªããã¹ã¿ã€ã«ã§ãå Žæã®æèŠãåŒã³èµ·ãã ãŠããŸãããã©ãã°ã©ãã¡ãŒã®ãã·ã§ã«ã»ãã·ãã¯ãå
ãè¿œãæ±ãã島ã®æ
é·ã®é
æçã§é
æçãªã€ã¡ãŒãžãåµãåºããŠããŸãã
ãŸããèªåãã¡ãåãå²ãè±ããªèªç¶ã管çããããšãèžè¡ãšã ã人ãã¡ãããŸããæ¥çã®äž»æµã§ããç³æ²¹ãå€çšããããŒãã«ä»£ããã ã®ãšããŠãããžã¢ã»ãµãŒãã¯äŸµç¥çãªã¢ã«ããžã¢ã®æšãé«æ§èœã®ãµãŒã ããŒãã«å€ããŠããŸããã¯ã€ã¢ã«ã¢ã§ã¯ããã¯ã€ã§å¯äžã®èªå®ã€ã®é
ªèŸ² å Žã§ããã¹ãŠã£ãŒãã»ã©ã³ãã»ãã¡ãŒã ã§ãè¥ã蟲家ãé£æå®å
šä¿éã®é åãæ¯æŽããŠããŸãããããŠããã¢ã«ããå
¬ç«æ€ç©åããªãšã³æ€ç©å㧠ã¯ã絶æ»
ã®å±æ©ã«çããŠãããã¯ã€ã®åçæ€ç©ãæããããã·ãŒãã©ã ã掻åããŠããŸãã
æåãè²æ¿ãæ®ããã¯ã€ã§ã¯ããã®å³¶ã
ã圢äœã£ãŠããäŒçµ±ãçŸ åŠã䟡å€èŠ³ãæ°žç¶ãããããã«å°œåããŠãã人ã
ãç¥çŠããŠããŸããè å°èžè¡éå£ããŠã¯ã®ã³ã·ã³ã»ã«ããã³ãããé³æ¥œãšãã³ã¹ãéããŠãã¯ã€ã® æ²çžç³»ãã£ã¢ã¹ãã©ïŒãã£ã¢ã¹ãã©ïŒçç人ïŒã®äººã
ãšèªåãã¡ã®æå ãã©ã®ããã«çµã³ã€ããŠããã®ããèããŠããŸããããã«ããããã»ã³ã ã¥ãªãŒã®ãšããŸãã«ã»ãµãŠã³ããçããããšã«å°å¿ãããã®ç§ãããŠã¹ ㊠ã£ãºã¢ãŠã 㢠ããŒã®å
¬æŒã§ãœãŒã«ãã¢ãŠããšãªã£ã芳客ãåã°ããã é³æ¥œé¢ã§èšç·Žãåãããã¥ãŒãžã·ã£ã³ã®ãã³ããã¶ã»ã¯ã€ãã£ãã»ã»ãã³ ã®æãç«ã¡ã玹ä»ããŸãã
ä»å·ã®Livingãã©ããã楜ãã¿ãã ãããããªãã®äžã«åµé æ§ã èœçããããšãé¡ã£ãŠããŸãã
2
WELCOME
Davide Barnes General Manager
JEWELS THAT TELL TIME © 2023 Harry Winston SA. HARRY WINSTON OCEAN DATE MOON PHASE AUTOMATIC ALA MOANA CENTER 808 791 4000 ROYAL HAWAIIAN CENTER 808 931 6900 HARRYWINSTON.COM
HALEKULANI CORPORATION
CHIEF OPERATING OFFICER
PETER SHAINDLIN
CHIEF EXECUTIVE ADVISOR
PATRICIA TAM
GENERAL MANAGER, HALEKULANI
DAVIDE BARNES
DIRECTOR OF SALES & MARKETING
LISA MATSUDA
HALEKULANI.COM
1-808-923-2311
2199 KALIA RD.
HONOLULU, HI 96815
CHIEF EXECUTIVE OFFICER
JASON CUTINELLA
GENERAL MANAGER, HAWAIâI
JOE V. BOCK
JOE@NMGNETWORK.COM
EDITORIAL DIRECTOR
LAUREN MCNALLY
MANAGING DESIGNER
TAYLOR NIIMOTO
PUBLISHED BY NMG NETWORK
41 N. HOTEL ST.
HONOLULU, HI 96817
NMGNETWORK.COM
© 2024 by NMG Network, LLC. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reprinted without the written consent of the publisher. Opinions are solely those of the contributors and are not necessarily endorsed by NMG Network.
14 MASTHEAD
Opening May 2024 â Ala Moana Center 1 (877) 726-3724
Step into this dreamy fashion editorial shot among the Florentine architecture of La Pietra.
ã©ã»ããšãã©ã®ãã£ã¬ã³ãã§å»ºç¯ ã®äžã§æ®åœ±ããã倢ã®ãããªã ã¡ãã·ã§ã³ã»ãšãã£ããªã¢ã«ã«è¶³ ãèžã¿å
¥ããŠã¿ããã
98
122
Photographer Michelle Mishina captures mesmerizing images of her island home.
åç家ãã·ã§ã«ã»ãã·ãã¯ã圌女ã®å³¶ã® 家ã®é
æçãªåçãæ®åœ±ããŠããã
This shot of model Misty Maâa was captured by photographer Mark Kushimi at La Pietra, a college preparatory school whose campus was inspired by an Italian villa. Find the editorial on page 98 and see it come to life on Living TV. ABOUT THE COVER:
16 ARTS 24 Largesse of the Loom 32 Fluid Forms CUISINE 44 A Sweet Heritage 54 Cream of the Crop CULTURE 64 A Diasporic Dialogue 74 Rhythms of Reverie WELLNESS 86 Against the Grain DESIGN 98 A Beautiful Mind EXPLORE 112 Seeding Sustainability 122 Chasing Light
ç®æ¬¡ TABLE OF CONTENTS
ã¢ãŒãã£ã¹ãã®æ
ã«ãµãã«ã» ã¢ã³ããŒãœã³ã¯ã空éã«å Ž æã®æèŠãå¹ã蟌ãã ã
ABOUT THE COVER: è¡šçŽã«ã€ããŠïŒ
Ukwanshin Kabudan is reconnecting Hawaiâiâs Okinawan community with their culture.
ãŠãŒã¯ã¯ã³ã·ã³ã»ã«ããã³ã¯ã ãã¯ã€ã®æ²çžã³ãã¥ããã£ãš 圌ãã®æåãåã³çµã³ã€ãã ããšããŠããã TABLE OF CONTENTS
ãã®ã¢ãã«ã®ãã¹ãã£ã»ãã¢ã®ã·ã§ããã¯ããã©ãã°ã©ãã¡ãŒã®ããŒã¯ã»ã¯ã·ãããã€ã¿ãªã¢ã®å¥èãã€ã¡ãŒãžãããã£ã³ãã¹ã æã€å€§åŠé²åŠæºåæ ¡ãã©ã»ããšãã©ã§æ®åœ±ããããã®èšäºã¯æ¬èª98ããŒãžãšãªãã³ã°TVã§ã芧ããã ããŸãã
18 ARTS 24 åšã®å€§ããªç¹æ© 32 æµåçãªãã©ã«ã CUISINE 44 çãéºç£ 54 ã¯ãªãŒã ã»ãªãã»ã¶ã»ã¯ããã CULTURE 64 ãã£ã¢ã¹ããªãã¯ã»ãã€ã¢ãã° 74 å¹»æ³ã®ãªãºã WELLNESS 86 ã¢ã²ã€ã³ã¹ãã»ã¶ã»ã°ã¬ã€ã³ DESIGN 98 çŸããå¿ EXPLORE 112 æç¶å¯èœæ§ã®çš®ãŸã 122 å
ãè¿œããã㊠ç®æ¬¡
The late artist Ruthadell Anderson infused spaces with a sense of place.
24
64
I Ka PÅ Me Ke Ao
⢠Waikīkī ⢠Open Daily ⢠808.922.2299
|
|
| Tim Ho Wan | Doraku Sushi | Island Vintage Wine Bar | Restaurant Suntory P.F. Changâs | The Cheesecake Factory | TsuruTonTan Udon | Wolfgangâs Steakhouse | Noi Thai | Partial Listing
TO
THEREâS
RoyalHawaiianCenter.com
Fendi | Harry Winston | HermÚs | Tiffany & Co. | Jimmy Choo | StÌssy | Rimowa | Saint Laurent
Ferragamo KITH | Tory Burch
Valentino
FROM SUN UP
SUN DOWN,
MAGIC AROUND EVERY CORNER.
Fashion. Dining. Culture. from day to night
Living TV is produced to complement the Halekulani experience, with videos that focus on the art of living well. Featuring cinematic imagery and compelling storytelling, Living TV connects guests with the arts, culture, and people of Hawaiâi. To view all programs, tune in to channel 2 or watch online at living.halekulani.com.
FLUID FORMS
Jerry Vasconcellos has carved out a lifelong career as a sculptor of scavenged native woods and stone.
æµåçãªãã©ã«ã ãžã§ãªãŒã»ãŽã¡ã¹ã³ã³ã»ãã¹ã¯ãæŸãéããåçæãç³ã䜿ã£ã 圫å»å®¶ãšããŠç涯ã®ãã£ãªã¢ãåãéããŠããã
A SWEET HERITAGE
çãéºç£
Local confection makers share their heritage through culturally rooted sweets.
å°å
ã®èåè·äººã¯ãæåã«æ ¹ããããèåãéããŠèªåãã¡ã® äŒçµ±ãåãã¡åãã 客宀å
ã§ãèŠèŽããã ãããªãã³ã° TVã¯ããã¬ã¯ã©ããªãã§ã¯ã®äžè³ªãªã² ãšãšãããéããããã ããããè±ã ã§å¥åº·çãªã©ã€ãã¹ã¿ã€ã«ãããŒãã« ãããªãªãžãã«çªçµããå±ãããŠã㟠ããèšå Žæããµããæ åãšèå³ããã ããŠãã¹ããŒãªãŒã§ããã¯ã€ã®èžè¡ã æåã人ã
ã®æ®ããã¶ããã玹ä»ã㟠ãããã¹ãŠã®çªçµã¯ãã£ã³ãã«ïŒãŸã㯠living.halekulani.comãããèŠèŽã ãã ããŸãã
watch online at: living.halekulani.com
A DIASPORIC DIALOGUE
ãã£ã¢ã¹ããªãã¯ã»ãã€ã¢ãã°
A performing arts troupe connects Hawaiâiâs Okinawan community to their homeland through music and dance.
ãã¯ã€ã®æ²çžã³ãã¥ããã£ãšæ
é·ãé³æ¥œãšãã³ã¹ã§ã€ãªãèžèœ å£äœã
A BEAUTIFUL MIND
çŸããå¿
On the elegant grounds of La Pietra, ethereal fashions and bookish pursuits conjure an air of charm and whimsy.
ã©ã»ããšãã©ã®ãšã¬ã¬ã³ããªæ·å°å
ã§ã¯ããšã¹ããªã®å¹ãããã¡ ãã·ã§ã³ãæ¬å¥œãã®äººãã¡ããé
åçã§æ°ãŸãããªé°å²æ°ãéž ãåºããŠããã
AGAINST THE GRAIN
ã¢ã²ã€ã³ã¹ãã»ã¶ã»ã°ã¬ã€ã³ æ¥çãæ¯é
ããç³æ²¹ããŒã¹ã®ãµãŒãããŒãã«ä»£ãããã®ãšããŠã 䟵ç¥çãªã¢ã«ããžã¢ã®æšãæ°ããªåœãåŸãŠããã
Invasive albizia trees gain new life as an alternative to the petroleum-based surfboards that dominate the industry.
WHAT TO WATCH
WINDSWEPT CURLS & SHIMMERING PEARLS BLOOMINGDALEâS | CARTIER | MAISON MARGIELA | MAUI DIVERS JEWELRY | SHABUYA | UNIQLO | YETI 350+ STORES & RESTAURANTS AT THE HEART OF THE PACIFIC ALAMOANACENTER.COM
IMAGE BY JOHN HOOK
ARTS
TEXT BY ANNA HARMON
IMAGES BY JOHN HOOK & CHRIS ROHRER
æïŒã¢ãã»ããŒã¢ã³
åçïŒãžã§ã³ã»ããã¯ã ã¯ãªã¹ã»ããŒã©ãŒ
LARGESSE OF THE LOOM
åšã®å€§ããªç¹æ©
Ruthadell Andersonâs monumental public works infused spaces with a sense of place while nurturing a creative community.
ã«ãµãã«ã»ã¢ã³ããŒãœã³ã®å ã
ããäœå矀ã¯ãå±ç€ºãããå
Œ
±ã®æœèšããã¯ã€ãããã§æºãããšåæã«ãã¯ãªãšã€ãã£ããªã³ãã¥ããã£ãè²ãã§ããŸããã
Textile artist Ruthadell Anderson made her mark by pushing the boundaries of the craft.
ããã¹ã¿ã€ã«ã»ã¢ãŒãã£ã¹ ãã®ã«ãµãã«ã»ã¢ã³ããŒãœ ã³ã¯ãå·¥èžã®éçãæŒã
åºããããšã§ãã®åãç¥ ããããã
For Ruthadell Anderson, there was something special about working with fibers, about creating on a loom. Perhaps it was the detailed planning, the delayed gratification. Maybe it was the tactile play of texture and color, or the ritual labor of weaving weft through warp. She had practiced ceramics and tried her hand at metalwork, but weaving was the art form that kept her interest for decades, during which she pushed the limits of ancient tapestries and modern murals with an aesthetic both abstract and reflective of Hawaiâiâs environment.
One of Andersonâs compelling traits was her ability to make work sized to the architectural spaces
ã«ãµãã«ã»ã¢ã³ããŒãœã³ã«ãšã£ãŠã糞ãšåãåããæ©ç¹ãæ©ã§äœåãåµã äžããäœæ¥ã¯ç¹å¥ã ã£ãã綿å¯ã«ãã¶ã€ã³ãç·Žãã®ã奜ãã ã£ãã®ã ããããªãããé·ãäœæ¥ã®æãŠã«å³ãããéææãããã£ãã®ãããã ãªããç¹ç¶ã®è§Šæãè²åœ©ãšãããããåã³ããã£ãã ããããé»ã
ãšæšª 糞ãšçžŠç³žãçµãã§ããäœæ¥ãæ°ã«å
¥ã£ãŠããã®ãããããªãããšã«ããã é¶èžãæãããéå±çŽ°å·¥ã«ãææŠãã圌女ãæ°å幎ã«ããã£ãŠæ
ç±ã 泚ãã ã®ã¯ç¹ç©ã§ããã¯ã€ãšããç°å¢ãæœè±¡çã«æããäœåã®æ°ã
ã§ã äŒçµ±çãªã¿ãã¹ããªãŒãçŸä»£å£ç»ã®éçãæã¡ç Žã£ãŠããã
ã¢ã³ããŒãœã³ã®ç¹åŸŽã®ã²ãšã€ãšããŠãå±ç€ºããã建ç©ã®å€§ããã« åã£ãäœåãçã¿åºãæèœãæããããã1966幎ã圌女ãäžèºæåã«
24 ARTS
within which they would live. Her 1966 breakout creation, a 15-by-8-and-a-half-foot tapestry inspired by the Hawaiian legend of Maui ensnaring the sun, exemplified this place-based sensibility. It was created for the Bank of Hawaiâi WaikÄ«kÄ« building, now the WaikÄ«kÄ« Galleria Tower. The piece was a textural geometric interpretation of a sun, with colors and fibers inspired by Hawaiâi and featuring local materials like banyan roots and hau fibers. Made in five pieces, it took 400 hours and two assistants to complete.
The Bank of Hawaiâi tapestry was not Andersonâs first time working with local materials, or with other weavers. By 1966, she had spent 20 years exploring the craft and growing her circle of local makers and artists. Born and raised in San Jose, California, she moved to Hawaiâi in 1947 at 25 years old with her first husband, Claude Horan. He had been invited to start the ceramics program for the University of Hawaiâi by Hester Robinson, a professor who began teaching its first fiber arts classes a year earlier. At the time, Andersonâs focus was on ceramics, but her background in weaving naturally drew her to Robinson. By 1951, Anderson and Robinson were working together to demonstrate weavingâs commercial potential on behalf of the Industrial Research Advisory Council, a government committee exploring promising industries for the Territory of Hawaiâi. They wove local materials like palm midribs and haole koa into table mats and lamp shades for public display. Throughout the decade, Anderson immersed herself in the Hawaiâi crafts scene, among other things working as a weaver for a local studio and developing the Hawaiian Craft Association. She was one of the founding members of Hui Mea Hana, which was spearheaded by Robinson and was the precursor to Hawaiâi Handweaversâ Hui, one of the largest fiber arts groups in the state today.
In 1963, Anderson returned to UH for her MFA in weaving with the goal of opening her own studio. She saw a growing demand for original weavings âboth for residential use and for public buildings,â she said in her entry for Francis Haarâs compendium Artists of Hawaiâi: Volume II. Post-World War II, the growing real estate market and tourist economy created a demand for custom textiles.
She graduated in 1964 and opened a studio and shop in a little house in Waikīkī with ceramist
ããã®ã¯å€ªéœãæããåç¥ããŠã€ã®ãã¯ã€äŒèª¬ãã¢ããŒãã«ããçŽ4.5 x 2.6ã¡ãŒãã«ã®ã¿ãã¹ããªãŒã§ããã¯ã€ã®åå°æãã¿ããšã«è¡šçŸããŠã ãããã¯ã€éè¡ã®ã¯ã€ãããã«ãçŸåšã®ã¯ã€ããã»ã®ã£ã©ãªã¢ã»ã¿ã¯ãŒã®ã ãã«å¶äœããããã¯ã€ãããè²åœ©ãšçŽ æãçšããŠå€ªéœãå³åœ¢çã«è¡šçŸ ãããã®ã§ãããã¢ã³ã®æšã®æ ¹ãããŠã®ç¹ç¶ãªã©èº«è¿ãªçŽ æãç¹ã蟌ã ã§ãããïŒã€ã®ããŒã¹ã§æ§æããããã®äœåããã¢ã³ããŒãœã³ã¯å©æ2人 ãšãšãã«400æéãããŠå®æãããã
圌女ããã¯ã€ãªãã§ã¯ã®çŽ æãçšããå
±åäœæ¥ã§äœãäžããäœ åã¯ããã¯ã€éè¡ã®ãã®ã¿ãã¹ããªãŒãæåã§ã¯ãªãã1966幎åœæã® ã¢ã³ããŒãœã³ã¯ããã§ã«20幎ã«ãããã¿ãã¹ããªãŒå¶äœã®çµéšãæã¡ã ãã¯ã€åšäœã®ç¹ç©äœå®¶ãã¢ãŒãã£ã¹ãã®ç¥ãåããå€ãã£ããã«ãªãã© ã«ãã¢å·ãµã³ããŒã®åºèº«ã®ã¢ã³ããŒãœã³ããæåã®å€«ã¯ããŠãã»ããŒã©ã³ ãšãšãã«ãã¯ã€ã«ç§»äœããã®ã¯1947幎ã25æ³ã®ãšãã ã£ãããã®å幎 ã«ãã¯ã€å€§åŠã§ç¹ç©ãæãã¯ããããã¹ã¿ãŒã»ããã³ãœã³ææãé¶èž ã®ææ¥ãã¯ãããããšã«ãªããããŒã©ã³ãæèãããã®ã ãåœåãã¢ã³ã ãŒãœã³ã®æŽ»åã®äžå¿ã¯é¶èžã ã£ãããç¹ç©ã®çµéšããã£ãããšããèª ç¶ã«ããã³ãœã³ææã®æŽ»åã«æ¹ãããŠããã
1951幎ãã¢ã³ããŒãœã³ãšããã³ãœã³ææã¯ãåœæãŸã æºå·ã 㣠ããã¯ã€ã®å°æ¥ãæ¯ãããç£æ¥ã暡玢ããããšæºå·æ¿åºãçµç¹ããç£ æ¥èª¿æ»è«®åå§å¡äŒã§ãç¹ç©ç£æ¥ã®å¯èœæ§ã瀺ããã¢ã³ã¹ãã¬ãŒã·ã§ã³ ãè¡ã£ãŠãããã€ã·ã®èã®äžèãããªã¬ã³ã¢ãšãã£ãçŽ æãçšããŠã㌠ãã«ããããã©ã³ãã®åãäœããäžè¬ã«ãå
¬éããã1950幎代ã®ã¢ã³ ããŒãœã³ã¯å°å
ã®ã¹ã¿ãžãªã§ç¹ãæãšããŠåããªãããã¯ã€ã®æå·¥èž ã®äžçã«ã©ã£ã·ã身ãæããããã¯ã€ã¢ã³ã»ã¯ã©ããã»ã¢ãœã·ãšãŒã·ã§ã³ã ãšããå£äœãçºè¶³ããããçŸåšã§ã¯åžã¢ãŒãé¢é£ã®ãã¯ã€æ倧ã®å£äœ ã®ã²ãšã€ã§ããããã¯ã€æç¹ãäœå®¶ã®ãã€ïŒã¯ã©ãïŒãã®å身ãããã³ãœã³ ææãäžå¿ã«ãªã£ãŠçºè¶³ããããã€ã»ã¡ã¢ã»ãããã®åµèšã¡ã³ããŒã«ãå ãã£ãŠããã
1963幎ãã¢ã³ããŒãœã³ã¯ãããèªåã®ã¹ã¿ãžãªãéãããšæ±ºæ ããèžè¡åŠã®ä¿®å£«å·ãååŸããããã«ãã¯ã€å€§åŠã«æ»ãããã©ã³ã·ã¹ã» ããŒã«ã«ããæŠè«ããã¯ã€ã®ã¢ãŒãã£ã¹ããã¡ã第ïŒå·»ãã®ãªãã§åœŒå¥³ èªèº«ãè¿°ã¹ãŠããããã«ãâå人äœå®
ãå
Œ
±æœèšãåããâãã¿ãã¹ã㪠ãŒã®éèŠã¯é«ãŸã£ãŠããã第äºæ¬¡äžç倧æŠãçµãããäžåç£åžå Žã芳 å
åžå Žã掻æ³ãèŠããŠããææã§ãã«ã¹ã¿ã ã¡ã€ãã®ã¿ãã¹ããªãŒã¯äºº æ°ã ã£ãã®ã ã
26 ARTS
Upon moving to Hawaiâi in 1947, Anderson immersed herself in the local crafts scene and sourced inspiration and materials from the world around her.
1947幎ã«ãã¯ã€ã«ç§»äœããã¢ã³ããŒãœã³ã¯ãå°å
ã®å·¥èžã·ãŒã³ã«æ²¡é ãã ã€ã³ã¹ãã¬ãŒã·ã§ã³ãšçŽ æãäžçäžããéããã
27
Louise C. Guntzer. Swiftly, Anderson garnered commissions that balanced art and function, including wall hangings for Sheraton Kauai, Royal Aloha Hotel, and Kauai Surf Hotel and blinds for Woolworthâs Ala Moana and the Hawaiian Airlines WaikÄ«kÄ« office.
By the time the State of Hawaiâi Fine Arts Committee announced they were commissioning artworks for the new State Capitol building in 1967, including wall hangings behind the rostrums of both legislative chambers, Anderson had established her reputation in the art form. Anderson was selected for the House wall hanging. It would be the largest project she would ever undertake.
The work took several years to plan, make, and install and required more than a dozen weavers to produce. After seeing her House wall hanging, the Senate chose Anderson for their installation as well. The final creations, each 39 feet high, hug the concave walls of the Senate and House chambers. Abstract in nature, each features an interplay of geometric shapes in hues of Hawaiâiâone of the earth in deep reds, oranges, and browns; the other of sky, water, and sand, blue hues surrounded by tans.
Anderson went on to make murals as far flung as Tahiti. She created a series of 11 fiber sculptures for the Prince Jonah KÅ«hiÅ Kalanianaâole Federal Building that hung from the ceiling of the first-floor lobby. She wove a series of large wall hangings for architect Vladimir Ossipoffâs 1970 remodel of the International Terminal Building at the Honolulu International Airport, leaning into a simplistic aesthetic of bright colors, lines, and geometric shapes. Her 6-by-13-foot wall hanging for Kauaâi Community College titled âWailele,â meaning âleaping water,â is a lush geometric abstraction of a waterfall: blues and purples flowing through blocks of browns and greens reminiscent of both loâi and Midwest agriculture. Over her career, her aesthetic morphed to match the demands of her clients and her own experimentation in fiber and form. Throughout, she played with abstract shapes, lush colors and texture, Polynesian inspiration, and the sculptural qualities of the craft.
Andersonâs large-scale installations often required more than one weaver to produce. Her success in
1964幎ã修士å·ãååŸããã¢ã³ããŒãœã³ã¯é¶èžå®¶ã«ã€ãŒã¹ã»Cã» ã¬ã³ãã¡ãŒãšãšãã«ã¯ã€ããã®å°ããªäœå®
ã§ã¹ã¿ãžãªå
ŒåºãéããçŸã ããšæ©èœãå
Œãåãã圌女ã®äœåãžã®äŸé Œã¯æ¬¡ã
ã«èã蟌ãã ãã·ã§ ã©ãã³ã»ã«ãŠã¢ã€ã»ããã«ããã€ã€ã«ã»ã¢ããã»ããã«ãã«ãŠã¢ã€ã»ãµãŒãã»ã ãã«ã®å£ã食ãã¿ãã¹ããªãŒãã¢ã©ã¢ã¢ãã®ããŠãŒã«ã¯ãŒã¹ãããã¯ã€ã¢ ã³èªç©ºã¯ã€ãããªãã£ã¹ã®ãã©ã€ã³ãã圌女ãæããããã®ã ã
1967幎ããã¯ã€å·èžè¡å§å¡äŒããæ°ãããã¯ã€å·è°äºå ã®äžé¢ ãšäžé¢ã®æŒå£åŸãã®å£ãå«ãã建ç©ã食ãäœåã®å¶äœãäŸé Œãããš çºè¡šããæããã®åéã§ã®ã¢ã³ããŒãœã³ã®å声ã¯ãã§ã«æºãããªãã ã®ã«ãªã£ãŠããããããŠãäžé¢ã®å£ã食ãäœåã¯åœŒå¥³ã«ä»»ãããããšã« ãªãã®ã ããããã¯ãã€ãŠåŒãåããããšã®ãªã倧ããããªãããžã§ã¯ ãã ã£ãã
æ§æ³ããå¶äœããããŠå®éã®èšçœ®ãŸã§ã«æ°å¹Žã®æ³æãšåæ°äººã® ç¹ãæãèŠãããäžé¢ã«åãä»ããããäœåãèŠãŠãäžé¢ãã¢ã³ããŒãœ ã³ã«äœåãäŸé Œãå®æããäœåã¯ããããé«ãçŽ12ã¡ãŒãã«ã«ãã ã³ãäžé¢ãšäžé¢ã®è°äŒå Žã®åŸæããå£ã«ãŽãããšè²Œãã€ãããã«èšçœ®ã ãããççŽ
ãšãªã¬ã³ãžãè¶è²ãåºèª¿ã«å€§å°ãè¡šçŸããäœåãšãããŸããŸãª éãé»åè²ã§å²ã¿ã空ãšæµ·ãç ãè¡šçŸããäœåãããããèªç¶ãã¢ã㌠ãã§ããã¯ã€ãããè²åœ©ãšå¹ŸäœåŠæš¡æ§ãç¹ããªãæœè±¡çãªå³æã ã
ã¢ã³ããŒãœã³ã®åµäœæŽ»åã¯ããã«ç¶ããé ãã¿ããã®ãã¥ãŒã©ã« ãªã©ãæããããããªã³ã¹ã»ãžã§ãã»ã¯ããªã»ã«ã©ãã¢ããªã¬é£éŠãã«1é ã®å€©äºããäžããåžã䜿ã£ã11ã®åœ«å»çé£äœã圌女ã«ãããã®ã ã 建ç¯å®¶ãŠã©ãžããŒã«ã»ãªã·ããã1970幎ã«æ¹ä¿®ããããã«ã«åœé空枯 ïŒèš³æ³šïŒçŸãããšã«ã»Kã»ã€ããŠãšåœé空枯ïŒã®åœéç·ã¿ãŒããã«ã§ãã æããè²åœ©ã§ç·ãšå³åœ¢ãã·ã³ãã«ãã€çŸããæãã圌女ã®äœå矀ã å£ã食ã£ããã«ãŠã¢ã€ã»ã³ãã¥ããã£ã»ã«ã¬ããžã®å£ã食ãçŽ2 x 4ã¡ãŒã ã«ã®ã¿ãã¹ããªãŒã®ã¿ã€ãã«ã¯ãã¯ã€ã¬ã¬ãããã¯ã€èªã§âè·³ããæ°Žâãšã ãæå³ã ãè±ããªæ°Žæµã幟äœåŠçãã€æœè±¡çã«æãããã®äœåãè¶è² ãšç·ã®åè§ã®ããã ãéãšçŽ«ãæµããããŸã¯ããã€ïŒèš³æ³šïŒã¿ãèã®æ°Ž ç°ïŒãç±³åœããããŠãšã¹ãã®èŸ²æ¥å°åž¯ãæããããé·ãåµäœæéãéã ãŠãã¢ã³ããŒãœã³ã®äœé¢šã¯äŸé Œäž»ã®èŠæã糞ãçŽ æã®è©Šè¡é¯èª€ã®çµæ ã«åãããŠããŸããŸãªå€åãéããããæœè±¡çãªãã¶ã€ã³ãè²ãšçŽ æ ã®å€åœ©ããããªãã·ã¢æåã®åœ±é¿ããããŠåœ«å»çãšããç¹åŸŽã¯çµå§å€ ãããªãã£ãã
28 ARTS
Andersonâs large-scale works, which include a set of highprofile commissions for the House and Senate chambers, often required many weavers to produce.
ã¢ã³ããŒãœã³ã®å€§èŠæš¡ãªäœåã«ã¯ãäžäžäž¡é¢ã®è°å Žã®ããã®äžé£ ã®æåãªäŸé Œãå«ãŸããå¶äœã«ã¯å€ãã®ç¹ãæãå¿
èŠãšããããšã å€ãã£ãã
29
pulling off such projects locally speaks volumes about her connections in the Hawaiâi artistic community. In fact, while weaving seems like a solitary act, Anderson nearly always made her commissions with an apprentice or collaborator. âI really enjoy the stimulation of working with others,â she said in Artists of Hawaiâi: Volume II. âThe creative act gives me the most satisfaction.â
In her lifetime, Anderson mentored dozens of weavers. âShe was so important to the fiber scene here,â said Barbara Okamoto, who met Anderson through Robinson when studying weaving at UH and later worked at Andersonâs Loom Originals store in KaimukÄ«. Back when weaving was still largely deemed a craft rather than an art form, Okamoto recalls that there was never any doubt that Anderson was an artist.
But, according to Okamoto, recognition as an artist wasnât something Anderson prized. Rather, she remembers Anderson encouraging fellow weavers and fretting over the pricing of materials, wanting them to be accessible to the community. Cathy Levinson, who frequented Andersonâs store to shop and talk story, recalls that âRuthadell created a warm atmosphere of artistic creation and support for weavers.â
One of Andersonâs later works, which is now among the collection of the Hawaiâi State Foundation on Culture and the Arts, is a rectangular weaving of black yarn about three feet long, with white fibers projecting along its center. Titled â803 Whiskersâ and made with whiskers shed by her cats, the piece is stark and masterful yet also tender and humorous. It leaves an impression similar to that of Anderson herself, who came across as serious and direct at first but was generous and funny, according to those who knew her.
For decades, Anderson dedicated her life to the work of weavingâan act of care and intention, of improvisation and reflection. Even now, after her passing in 2018, Andersonâs archives are in the company of the Hawaiâi Handweaversâ Hui on the second floor of a building in Chinatown, where looms clatter and click and weavers honor what came before, working together to shape what comes next.
圌女ã®å€§ããããªäœåã¯è€æ°ã®ç¹ãæãå¿
èŠãšããããšãå€ã ã£ãããããã倧ãããžã§ã¯ãããã¯ã€åšäœã®ç¹ãæã®åã ãã§å®æã ããããã®ã¯ãã²ãšãã«ãã¯ã€ã®èžè¡å®¶ã³ãã¥ããã£ãšã¢ã³ããŒãœã³ã®ã€ ãªããã®æ·±ãã«ãããã®ã ãããäžèŠãå€ç¬ãªäœæ¥ã«æããæ©ç¹ã®äžç ã§ã圌女ã¯ã»ãŒå¿
ãå©æãŸãã¯ã»ãã®ã¢ãŒãã£ã¹ããšå
±åäœæ¥ã§äœå ãäœãäžããŠãããâ人ãšäœæ¥ãããã®ã¯åºæ¿ããã£ãŠå¥œããªãã§ãâ ããã¯ã€ã®ã¢ãŒãã£ã¹ããã¡ã第ïŒå·»ãã®ãªãã§åœŒå¥³ã¯äŸã¹ãŠãããâäœ åãåµé ããããšã§ãäœããæ·±ãæºè¶³æãåŸãããã®ã§ãâ
ã¢ã³ããŒãœã³ã¯ç涯ãéããå€ãã®ç¹ç©äœå®¶ã«åœ±é¿ãäžããŠããã ããã¯ã€ã®ç¹ç©çã§ã圌女ã¯ãšãŠã€ããªãéèŠãªååšã§ãããããèªã ã®ã¯ããŒãã©ã»ãªã«ã¢ãããããã¯ã€å€§åŠã§ããã³ãœã³ææãéããŠã¢ã³ ããŒãœã³ã®ç¥å·±ãåŸãŠãã®ã¡ã«ã«ã€ã ãã«ãã£ãã¢ã³ããŒãœã³ã®åºãã«ãŒ ã ã»ãªãªãžãã«ãºãã§ãåãã人ã ãç¹ç©ãäžè¬çã«ãŸã èžè¡ã§ã¯ãªãã ãã ã®æèžãšèããããŠããåœæã§ããã¢ã³ããŒãœã³ã¯ãŸããããªãèž è¡å®¶ã ã£ãããšãªã«ã¢ãããã¯æ¯ãè¿ãã
ã ãããªã«ã¢ãããã«ããã°ãã¢ã³ããŒãœã³èªèº«ã¯èžè¡å®¶ãšããŠã® èªåã®è©äŸ¡ãªã©ããŸãæ°ã«ããŠããªãã£ãããã ããªã«ã¢ãããã«ãšã£ ãŠã¯ãç¹ç©ä»²éãå±ãŸããããææè²»ã®é«ããåãããã£ãšæé ã«æã« å
¥ãã°ããã®ã«ãšããŒãã¢ã³ããŒãœã³ã®å§¿ã®ã»ããå°è±¡çã ãã¢ã³ã㌠ãœã³ã®åºãé »ç¹ã«èšªããŠææãè²·ãæ±ãããããã¹ãã楜ããã ãšãã ãã£ã·ãŒã»ã¬ãŽã£ã³ãœã³ããã¯åæ³ããããã«ãµãã«ã®åºã¯ããããã¡ç¹ ç©äœå®¶ãæž©ããè¿ããæ¯ããŠãããã ãŒãã«å
ãŸããŠããŸããã
ã¢ã³ããŒãœã³ã®åŸæã®äœåã§ãçŸåšã¯ãã¯ã€å·æåèžè¡è²¡å£ã® ã³ã¬ã¯ã·ã§ã³ãšããŠæèµãããŠãããã®ã®ãªãã«ãé»ãæ¯ç³žã§ç¹ãããäž å€®ã«çœãæ¯ãç«ã¡äžãã£ãé·ã1ã¡ãŒãã«ã»ã©ã®é·æ¹åœ¢ã®äœåãããã ã803æ¬ã®ã²ãããšé¡ããããã®äœåã«ã¯ã圌女ã®é£Œãç«ãã¡ã®ã²ã ãç¹ã蟌ãŸããŠãããç°¡æœã§å匷ããåæã«ç¹çŽ°ãã€ãŠãŒã¢ã©ã¹ãç¬¬äž å°è±¡ã¯ççé¢ç®ã§ã¶ã£ãããŒãã ãã身è¿ãªäººã¯åšã倧ãããŠæ快㪠人ã ã£ããšããã¢ã³ããŒãœã³èªèº«ã®å°è±¡ã«ãã£ããã ã
ã¢ã³ããŒãœã³ã¯ææ
ã®æ·±ããšæå¿ã®åŒ·ããæãã€ããšæ·±ãæŽå¯ ãæ ãã¿ãã¹ããªãŒã®å¶äœã«æ°å幎ã«ããã£ãŠèº«ãæããã2018幎㮠ä»çåŸãã圌女ã®äœå矀ã¯ãã£ã€ãã¿ãŠã³ã®ãšãããã«ã®2éãã±ãã ã±ãããšç¹æ©ã®é³ãé¿ãããã¯ã€æç¹ãäœå®¶ã®ãã€ãã®ã¹ã¿ãžãªã§ãå
人ãå²ã³ã€ã€ãåãåãããŠç¹ç©ã®æªæ¥ãåãæããŠããäœå®¶ãã¡ã èŠå®ã£ãŠããã
30 ARTS
TEXT BY JACK TRUESDALE
IMAGES BY CHRIS ROHRER FLUID FORMS
æµåçãªãã©ã«ã
æïŒãžã£ãã¯ã»ãã¥ã«ãŒãºããŒã« åçïŒã¯ãªã¹ã»ããŒã©ãŒ
Inspired by themes of the natural world, Jerry Vasconcellos has carved out a lifelong career as a sculptor of scavenged native woods and stone.
èªç¶çããã€ã³ã¹ãã¬ãŒã·ã§ã³ãåŸããžã§ãªãŒã»ãŽã¡ã¹ã³ã³ã»ãã¹ã¯ãå»æãç³ã䜿ã£ã圫å»å®¶ãšããŠç涯ã®ãã£ãªã¢ãç¯ããŠããã
32 ARTS
There are still some things sculptor Jerry Vasconcellos doesnât know at 75: what heâs making when he sets out to carve the many wood and stone figures perched throughout his carport studio; what sometimes slows him to a halt, forcing him to go start something new; what will happen to all his unfinished works when he dies.
On a rainy winter day, Vasconcellos fishes out a black stone from a pile of uncut shapes on his desk. âItâs more fun for me to try and figure out what the story of a piece is as Iâm doing it,â he says. He plugs in a Dremel power tool, flicks on an old fan, and gets to work, dust blowing as he grinds a small valley between two knobs in the rock. âHopefully the visual will be powerful enough that someone else can see that same thing,â he says, âor they see what they want to see.â
Blue-eyed and clean-shaven but for a stout gray mustache, heâs wearing an aloha shirt and board shorts, elbows resting on his knees as he sits and carves. âWhat Iâm trying to do is to work towards a reason for doing it,â he says. Vasconcellos has been what he calls an âinstinctualâ sculptor most of his life. His works draw out the natural curves of the materials he forages from the beach and in the woods.
He spent most of his life in Honolulu before moving north several years ago to the tiny town of Hauâula, where he lives a short walk from the shore. âThis just swallowed me. I donât need anything else,â Vasconcellos says, content just to sell enough work to afford a nice dinner with his wife now and again. âSo much of what Iâm doing is for myself.â
Vasconcellos grew up in the storied Wailele artist colony, built alongside a waterfall deep in verdant Kalihi Valley. Soon after his family moved in, the top floor of the house burned down, so they moved into the gallery, living among the art of former residents Lillie Hart Gay and George Burroughs Torrey. As a teenager, he plunged to the bottom of the river by his home and emerged with a dark, porous rock. At the time, heâd been taking in the quasi-abstract figures of Henry Moore and Jean Arp, so he took a hammer to the rock and pounded out a donut shape. Afterward, he asked himself: âDid it look like more than a rock with a hole in it?â He carved another rock, then another. The aim: âCreate that which wasnât before.â
After college at the University of Hawaiâi at MÄnoa, Vasconcellos found a job that allowed him
圫å»å®¶ãžã§ãªãŒã»ãŽã¡ã¹ã³ã³ã»ãã¹ã«ã¯ã75æ³ã«ãªã£ãä»ã§ãããã㪠ãããšããããããã¯ãã«ãŒããŒãã®ã¢ããªãšã®ãã¡ãã¡ã«çœ®ããããã ããã®æšãç³ã®åœ«å»ã圫ãå§ãããšããèªåãäœãäœã£ãŠããã®ãããš ãã©ãäœãåå ã§äœæ¥ãäžæããæ°ããããšãå§ããªããã°ãªããªãã® ããèªåãæ»ãã ãæªå®æã®äœåã¯ã©ããªãã®ãâŠã
å¬ã®ããéšã®æ¥ããŽã¡ã¹ã³ã³ã»ãã¹ã¯æºã®äžã«ç©ãŸããåãã£ã± ãªãã®åœ¢ããé»ãç³ãåãåºãããäœåãäœããªããããã®äœåã®ã¹ã㌠ãªãŒãèããŠããæ¹ã楜ãããã ããšåœŒã¯èšãã圌ã¯ãã¬ã¡ã«ã®é»åå·¥ å
·ãå·®ã蟌ã¿ãå€ãæ颚æ©ã®ã¹ã€ãããå
¥ãããšã岩ã®2ã€ã®ãããã® éã®å°ããªè°·ãåããã»ãããå¹ãé£ã°ããªããäœæ¥ã«åããããã"é¡ ããã°ããã®ããžã¥ã¢ã«ãä»ã®èª°ãã«ãåããã®ãèŠãŠãããããã㪠å匷ããã®ã«ãªãã°ããã®ã ã...... "ãšåœŒã¯èšãã
éãç®ãå£é«ã ããæ®ããŠãããã«åãããé«ãã¢ããã·ã£ãã«ã ãŒãã·ã§ãŒããå±¥ããèã«èãã€ããŠåº§ã£ãŠåœ«å»ãããŠããããåããã ããšããŠããã®ã¯ããããããçç±ã«åãã£ãŠåªåããããšãªãã ããšåœŒ ã¯èšãããŽã¡ã¹ã³ã³ã»ãã¹ã¯ã圌ããæ¬èœçããšåŒã¶åœ«å»å®¶ã§ããã圌㮠äœåã¯ãããŒãã森ã§æ¡åããçŽ æã®èªç¶ãªæ²ç·ãåŒãåºããŠããã
人çã®å€§åãããã«ã«ã§éããã圌ã¯ãæ°å¹Žåã«ãªã¢ã島ã®å ã«äœçœ®ããå°ããªçºããŠãŠã©ã«ç§»ãã海岞ããæ©ããŠããã®ãšããã«äœ ãã§ãããããããåã飲ã¿èŸŒãã ãã ãä»ã«äœããããªããã ããšãŽã¡ ã¹ã³ã³ã»ãã¹ã¯èšãã劻ãšã®çŽ æµãªãã£ããŒãããŸã«æ¥œãããã ãã®ä» äºã売ãã ãã§æºè¶³ãªã®ã ããç§ãããŠããããšã®å€ãã¯ãèªåèªèº«ã® ãããªãã ãã
ãŽã¡ã¹ã³ã³ã»ãã¹ã¯ãç·è±ããªã«ãªãæžè°·ã®å¥¥æ·±ããæ»ã®ãã°ã«å»º ãŠãããæšãšç³é ãã®å®¶ãã¯ã€ã¬ã¬ã®ã¢ãŒãã£ã¹ãã»ã³ãããŒã§è²ã£ãã 圌ã®å®¶æãåŒã£è¶ããŠéããªãã家ã®æäžéãå
šçŒãããããã®ã£ã©ãª ãŒã«ç§»ãäœã¿ããã€ãŠã®äœäººãªãªãŒã»ããŒãã»ã²ã€ããžã§ãŒãžã»ãããŠãºã» ããŒãªãŒã®ã¢ãŒãã«å²ãŸããŠæ®ãããããã£ãŒã³ãšã€ãžã£ãŒã®é ã圌ã¯å®¶ ã®ãã°ã®å·ã®åºã«é£ã³èŸŒã¿ãçã£é»ãªå€å質ã®å²©ãæã£ãŠåºãŠãããåœ æã圌ã¯ãã³ãªãŒã»ã ãŒã¢ããžã£ã³ã»ã¢ã«ãã®æºæœè±¡çãªäººç©ãèŠãŠãã ã®ã§ããã³ããŒã§å²©ãå©ããŠããŒããã®åœ¢ãäœã£ãããã®åŸã圌ã¯èªåã ããç©Žã®éãã岩以äžã®ãã®ã«èŠããã ãããïŒåœŒã¯ãŸãå¥ã®å²©ã圫 ãããããŠãŸãå¥ã®å²©ã圫ã£ãããã®ç®çã¯ã"以åã«ã¯ãªãã£ããã®ã åµãåºã "ããšã ã£ãã
ãã¯ã€å€§åŠããã¢æ ¡ãåæ¥åŸããŽã¡ã¹ã³ã³ã»ãã¹ã¯ã¢ãŒãã«æé ãå²ããä»äºã«å°±ãããããã«ã«åžã®æµ·æŽã¬ã¯ãªãšãŒã·ã§ã³ã»ã¹ãã·ã£ãª ã¹ããšããŠãããã£ã»ãµãŒãã£ã³ã»ã³ã³ãã¹ãããã®ä»ã®æµ·æŽããã°ã©ã ã
34 ARTS
ã¢ãŒãã£ã¹ãããžã§ãªãŒã»ãŽã¡ã¹ã³ã³ã»ãã¹ã¯ããã¯ã€ããã¿ãããžã®åŠå¥³ èªæµ·ã§ãã¯ã¬ã¢å·ãæ瞊ãããã¯ããã·ã¢ã®èªæµ·å£«ãããŠã»ãã¢ã€ã«ã°ã ã圫å»ã®æã»ã©ããåãããšããã
35
Artist Jerry Vasconcellos credits Mau Piailug, the Micronesian navigator who piloted the HÅkÅ«leâa on her maiden voyage from Hawaiâi to Tahiti, with teaching him how to carve.
After spending most of his life in Honolulu, Vasconcellos now lives and works in rural Hauâula.
人çã®å€§åãããã«ã«ã§é ããããŽã¡ã¹ã³ã³ã»ãã¹ã¯ã çŸåšã¯ããŠãŠã©ã®ç°èã«äœ ã¿ãä»äºãããŠããã
time for art. As an ocean recreation specialist for the City and County of Honolulu, he ran bodysurfing contests and other ocean-going programs while honing his artistic eye for foraged materials. He scrutinized beaches for stones, looking for âa quality rockâ with an âappropriate shape.â Heâs found rarities like feather-like lava rock and dense red lava rock conjoined by a crystalline layer. The materialâs consistency is key, he says: âYou need to know that you can carve it.â He used to hike up into the mountains looming over Honolulu to look for wood that needed to âbe released.â Heâd start carving a piece on site before carrying it down from the woods to complete it. Finding materials in the wild was both cost effective and enlightening. He grew to notice certain details as he carved, like âthe response to your impositionsâ in the wood. Vasconcellos doesnât force the material to bend to his will, instead allowing subtle forms to reveal themselves: an almost-head, an almost-face, an almost-dancer.
In the late 1970s, Vasconcellos went to an art show by Rocky Jensen, who ushered in the contemporary maoli fine arts movement and founded the group
éå¶ãããããããæ¡åããçŽ æã«å¯Ÿããèžè¡çãªç®ã磚ããã圌ã¯æµ 蟺ã§ç³ãæ¢ãã"é©åãªåœ¢ "ããã "質ã®è¯ãç³ "ãæ¢ããã圌ã¯ã矜ã®ã ããªæº¶å²©ããããçµæ¶æ§ã®é«ãå±€ã§çµåãããç·»å¯ãªèµ€ã溶岩ã®ãã ãªçãããã®ãèŠã€ãããçŽ æã®äžè²«æ§ãéµã ãšåœŒã¯èšãã圌ã¯ããã ãã«ã«ã«è¿«ãå±±ã
ããã€ãã³ã°ããŠã"è§£æŸ "ãããå¿
èŠã®ããæšãæ¢ã ãããã®å Žã§åœ«ãå§ããŠããã森ããéãã§å®æãããã®ã ãèªç¶ã®äžã§ ææãæ¢ãã®ã¯ãè²»çšå¯Ÿå¹æãé«ããå匷ã«ããªã£ãã圌ã¯æšã圫ã㪠ããããèªåã®æŒãã€ãã«å¯Ÿããåå¿ãã®ãããªçŽ°éšã«æ°ã¥ãããã«ãªã£ ãããŽã¡ã¹ã³ã³ã»ãã¹ã¯ãçŽ æãèªåã®æã®ãŸãŸã«æ²ããããšã¯ããã埮 åŠãªãã©ã«ã ã姿ãçŸãããã«ããã
1970幎代åŸåããŽã¡ã¹ã³ã³ã»ãã¹ã¯ããããŒã»ãžã§ã³ã»ã³ã®ã¢ãŒ ãã·ã§ãŒãèŠã«è¡ã£ãã圌ã¯ã³ã³ãã³ãã©ãªãŒã»ããªãªã»ãã¡ã€ã³ã¢ãŒãã» ã ãŒãã¡ã³ãã®å
é§è
ã§ããããã¯ã€æåãåºããããã«ãã¬ã»ããŠã¢ãŒ IIIãšããã°ã«ãŒããèšç«ããããç§ã¯ãã®ãã¹ãŠã«é
äºãããŸããããšãŽ ã¡ã¹ã³ã³ã»ãã¹ã¯èšãããéãã¯ã€ã¢ã³ã®ç§ãåå ãããŠããããã§ããã ãŽã¡ã¹ã³ã³ã»ãã¹ã¯ã°ã«ãŒãã§ã¢ãŒããçºè¡šããããã«ãªãããžã§ã³ã»ã³ ã¯ãã¯ã€æåã®ç¥èã圌ã«äŒããããå°å
ã§ã®ç§ã®ç¥èã¯äžè¶³ããŠã㟠ããããšåœŒã¯èšãã
38
ARTS
Vasconcellos doesnât force the material to bend to his will, instead allowing subtle forms to reveal themselves.
ãŽã¡ã¹ã³ã³ã»ãã¹ã¯ãçŽ æãèªåã®æã®ãŸãŸã«æ²ããããšã匷èŠããã 埮åŠãªãã©ã«ã ã姿ãçŸãã®ãåŸ
ã€ã
39
Hale NauÄ III to promote Hawaiian culture. âI was just taken by the whole thing,â Vasconcellos says. âHe let me join as a non-Hawaiian.â Vasconcellos started showing his art with the group, and Jensen passed some of his knowledge of Hawaiian culture to him. âMy knowledge of things, locally, was missing,â he says.
Vasconcellos credits Mau Piailug, the Micronesian navigator who piloted the HÅkÅ«leâa on her maiden voyage from Hawaiâi to Tahiti, with teaching him how to carve. He was working his county job at Kualoa Park in 1976 when Piailug showed up there to put the canoe together. Vasconcellos made himself a devoted acolyte. âAs far as I was concerned, it was a total apprenticeship, and as far as he was concerned, I was there helping him,â he says. Piailug taught him to understand his materials, use an adze, and always work with the grain. Vasconcellosâ tools of choice are still chisels and adzes he made himself, which he packs in two canvas bags and takes to a park near his home to work on pieces.
Vasconcellos demurs about his success as an artist. Decades ago, his first solo show, Who Would Have Thought a Dead Tree Could Talk?, sold just two pieces. âIt was all very slow. Iâm not even clear on what renown I have,â he says. âIâd get mentioned in the newspaper when I was doing shows with other groups, and that was always nice.â Today he sells pieces at NÄ Mea Hawaiâi and Cedar Street Galleries in Honolulu. His past public commissions include a congregation of stone figures outside the KeahuolÅ« Courthouse in Kailua-Kona and, flanking the pedestrian path at the University of Hawaiâi Cancer Center, a pair of totemic sculptures with carvings that resemble watchful eyes.
In his studio, Vasconcellos continues grinding away, undisturbed by all the dust flying from the stone heâs working on as he turns it over in his bare hands. Out in the yard, dozens of stones sit untouched âbecause I like âem so much,â Vasconcellos says, admitting he may never carve them into sculptures. Others have been shaped into graceful, undulating forms. Tall ones stand along the wall with an almost human presence. One stout wooden figure vaguely resembles a tiki statue. And on one rough and knobby hunk of wood, heâs penciled out possible contour lines. âAs something starts to develop, you pursue that and deal with it however you have to,â he says. âItâs nice: The more you do it, the more you feel you can do it.â
ãŽã¡ã¹ã³ã³ã»ãã¹ã¯ããã¯ã€ããã¿ãããžã®åŠå¥³èªæµ·ã§ãã¯ã¬ã¢å· ãæ瞊ãããã¯ããã·ã¢ã®èªæµ·å£«ãããŠã»ãã¢ã€ã«ã°ãã圫å»ã®æã»ã© ããåãããšããã1976幎ããã¢ã€ã«ã°ãã«ããŒãçµã¿ç«ãŠãããã«ã¯ ã¢ãã¢ã»ããŒã¯ã«çŸãããšãã圌ã¯é¡ã§ä»äºãããŠããããŽã¡ã¹ã³ã³ã»ã ã¹ã¯ãã¢ã€ã«ã°ã®ç±å¿ãªä¿¡å¥è
ãšãªã£ãããç§ã¯ããã§åœŒãæäŒããŸã ããããã®ä»äºã¯ç§ã«ãšã£ãŠã¯å匷ã§ããããšåœŒã¯èšãããã¢ã€ã«ã°ã¯åœŒ ã«ãææãç解ããããšãæ§ã䜿ãããšãåžžã«æšç®ã«æ²¿ã£ãŠäœæ¥ããããš ãæããããŽã¡ã¹ã³ã³ã»ãã¹ã®éå
·ã¯ãä»ã§ãèªåã§äœã£ããããšæ§ã§ã ãããããã2ã€ã®ãã£ã³ãã¹ããã°ã«è©°ããŠãèªå®
è¿ãã®å
¬åã«æã£ãŠ è¡ããäœåäœãã«å±ãã§ããã
ãŽã¡ã¹ã³ã³ã»ãã¹ã¯ãã¢ãŒãã£ã¹ããšããŠã®æåã«ã€ããŠã¯åŠå® çã ãæ°å幎åã圌ã®æåã®åå±ãWho Would Have Thought a Dead Tree Could Talk?ããéããéã売ããã®ã¯2ããŒã¹ã®ã¿ã ã£ãã ããã¹ãŠãé
ã
ãšããŠé²ãŸãªãã£ããèªåãã©ããªå声ãæã£ãŠããã® ãããããããããªããä»ã®ã°ã«ãŒããšäžç·ã«ã·ã§ãŒããã£ãŠãããšã ã¯ãæ°èã«çŽ¹ä»ãããããšããã£ãããšåœŒã¯èšããçŸåšã圌ã¯ããã«ã«ã® NÄ Mea HawaiÊ»iãšCedar Street Galleriesã§äœåã販売ããŠããã éå»ã«ã¯ã«ã€ã«ã¢Â·ã³ãã®ã±ã¢ãŠãªã«è£å€æåã«ããç³åã®éåäœãã ãã¯ã€å€§åŠããã»ã³ã¿ãŒã®æ©éèã«ãããç£èŠã®ç®ãæããã圫å»ã æœãããããŒãã ã®åœ«å»ãªã©ãå
Œ
±ã®å Žã§ã®äŸé Œãå€ãã
ã¢ããªãšã§ãŽã¡ã¹ã³ã³ã»ãã¹ã¯ãäœæ¥äžã®ç³ãçŽ æã§ã²ã£ããè¿ã ãªãããç²å¡µãèãã®ãæ°ã«ããåãç¶ããŠãããåºã«åºããšãäœåå ãã®ç³ãæã€ããã®ãŸãŸçœ®ãããŠããããŽã¡ã¹ã³ã³ã»ãã¹ã¯ããšãŠãæ°ã« å
¥ã£ãŠããããããšèšãã圫å»ã«åœ«ãããšã¯ãªããããããªããšèªããŠã ããä»ã®ç³ã¯ãåªçŸã§èµ·äŒã®ãã圢ã«æ圢ãããŠãããèã®é«ããã®ã¯ã ã»ãšãã©äººéã®ãããªååšæã§å£ã«æ²¿ã£ãŠç«ã£ãŠããããããã£ãããš ããæšåã¯ãã©ããšãªããã£ãåã«äŒŒãŠããããŸããããæšã®å¡ã«ã¯ã茪 éç·ãéçã§æãããŠããããäœããçºå±ãå§ãããããããè¿œæ±ããã© ã®ããã«ã§ã察åŠãããã ããããããšã ããããã°ããã»ã©ãã§ããæ° ãããŠããããšåœŒã¯èšãã
40 ARTS
Turn a moment of fate into a lifetime of purpose.
OluKai.com/AnywhereAloha
MIKE COOTS / Kauaâi, HI
IMAGE BY CHRIS ROHRER
CUISINE
TEXT BY MARTHA CHENG
IMAGES BY
JOHN HOOK & CHRIS ROHRER
æïŒããŒãµã»ãã§ã³ åçïŒã¯ãªã¹ã»ããŒã©ãŒã ãžã§ã³ã»ããã¯
çãéºç£
Local confection makers are finding delicious inspiration in the traditional desserts of their heritage.
å°å
ã®èåè·äººãã¡ã¯ãäŒçµ±çãªãã¶ãŒãã«çŸå³ããã€ã³ã¹ãã¬ãŒã·ã§ã³ãèŠåºããŠããã
44 CUISINE
A SWEET HERITAGE
In the landscape of sweets, European-style confections and pastries have long been considered the pinnacle of refinement, the height of aspiration. But in recent years, in the islands and across the country, a new generation is reclaiming their heritage and blending it with Hawaiâi and American culture to create sweets that are simultaneously familiar and novel. Ranging from the rustic to the refined, the resulting confectionsâOkinawan doughnuts from Aloha Andagi, Korean rice cakes from Rice Blossoms, and Filipino jams from Palaman Purveyorsâare all born out of each makerâs personal memories of another time and country. Hereâs a sweet taste of their efforts.
ALOHA ANDAGI
Every time Junko Bise makes andagi, some 1,000 to 2,000 at each of her monthly pop-ups, she thinks about her grandmother. âActually, she didnât teach me how to do because dangerous by the fire,â Bise says. But she remembers watching her grandmother dropping dough into the hot oilâformed from a stiffer batter than what we know in Hawaiâi, and in much larger portionsâproducing Okinawan doughnuts almost 10 times the size of andagi in Hawaiâi.
It wasnât until Bise came to Hawaiâi that she learned how to make andagi by helping her senpai, or mentor, at fundraisers. In 2012, encouraged by Hidejiro Matsu, the owner of Marukai at the time, she started Aloha Andagi. âHawaiâi is very famous for making andagi for all kinds of occasions like bon dance, birthday party,â Bise says. But with her business, she wanted to meld the culture of Okinawa and Hawaiâi. âSo mine is not Okinawan Okinawanâitâs OkinawanHawaiâi andagi,â she clarifies, sometimes expanding upon traditional andagi by incorporating flavors like strawberry, matcha, and, during the holidays, pumpkin spice and ginger cinnamon.
About once a month at Marukai, Bise sets up her three woks with hot oil and methodically shapes dough balls by hand. Dropping them into the wok, she waits until they are golden brown before removing them and lightly squeezing out the excess oil from each one. The result? An andagi with a crunchy exteriorâcraggy and crispâserved
ãèåã®äžçã§ã¯ããšãŒããã颚ã®ãèåããã¹ããªãŒãæŽç·Žã®é ç¹ã æ§ãã®é«ã¿ãšèããããŠããããããè¿å¹Žããã¯ã€è«žå³¶ãã¢ã¡ãªã«å
šå ã§ãæ°ããäžä»£ããã®äŒçµ±ãåãæ»ãããã¯ã€ãã¢ã¡ãªã«ã®æåãšèå ãããŠã芪ãã¿ããããšæ°ãããåæã«æããããã¹ã€ãŒããçã¿åºã ãŠãããã¢ããã»ã¢ã³ãã®ãŒã®æ²çžé¢šããŒãããã©ã€ã¹ã»ããããµã ãºã® éåœé¢šé€
ããã©ãã³ã»ããŒãã€ã€ãŒãºã®ãã£ãªãã³é¢šãžã£ã ãªã©ãçŽ æŽãª ãã®ããæŽç·Žããããã®ãŸã§ãåºæ¥äžãã£ããèåã¯ãã¹ãŠãäœãæã ãããã®å¥ã®æ代ãåœã®æãåºããçãŸãããã®ã ãããã§ã¯ããã®ç ãå³ã玹ä»ãããã
ã¢ããã¢ã³ãã®ãŒ
ãžã¥ã³ã³ã»ãã»ããã¯ãæ¯æã®ãããã¢ããã§1,000ã2,000åã®ã¢ã³ ãã®ãŒãäœããã³ã«ãç¥æ¯ã®ããšãæãåºãããå®ã¯ãç«ã䜿ãã®ã¯å± éºãªã®ã§ãç¥æ¯ã¯ç§ã«äœãæ¹ãæããŠãããªãã£ããã§ãããšãã»ãã ã¯èšãããã¯ã€ã®ããŒããã®10åè¿ã倧ããã®æ²çžã®ããŒãããã§ã ãã®ã
ãã¯ã€ã«æ¥ãŠåããŠã圌女ã¯å
茩ã®è³ééãã®æäŒãããã¢ã³ã ã®ãŒã®äœãæ¹ãåŠãã ã2012幎ãåœæãã«ã«ã€ã®ãªãŒããŒã ã£ãæŸ ç§ äºéæ°ã®å§ãããããã¢ããã¢ã³ãã®ãŒãå§ãããããã¯ã€ã¯çèžããèª çæ¥ããŒãã£ãŒãªã©ãããããå Žé¢ã§ã¢ã³ãã®ãŒãäœãããšã§ãšãŠãæ åã§ãããšãã»ããã¯èšãããããã圌女ã¯æ²çžãšãã¯ã€ã®æåãèåã ãããã£ãã®ã ããã ãããç§ã®ã¯æ²çžã®ãªããã¯ã³ã§ã¯ãªããæ²çžã®ã ã¯ã€ã®ã¢ã³ãã®ãŒãªãã§ãããšåœŒå¥³ã¯æèšãããäŒçµ±çãªã¢ã³ãã®ãŒã ããŒã¹ã«ãã¹ããããªãŒãæ¹è¶ãããªããŒã·ãŒãºã³ã«ã¯ãã³ããã³ã¹ã〠ã¹ããžã³ãžã£ãŒã·ãã¢ã³ãªã©ã®ãã¬ãŒããŒãåãå
¥ããããšãããã
ãã«ã«ã€ã§ã¯æã«äžåºŠããã»ããã¯3ã€ã®äžè¯éã«ç±ããæ²¹ãæ· ããæäœæ¥ã§çå°ãæ圢ããããããäžè¯éã«èœãšãããã€ãè²ã«ãªã ãŸã§åŸ
ã£ãŠããåãåºããäœåãªæ²¹ã軜ãçµããåºæ¥äžããã¯ïŒãšãã ãšãå€ã¯ã«ãªã«ãªãäžã¯ãµã¯ãµã¯ã§ãã§ãããŠã®ã¢ãã¢ããé£ã¹ãããã
46
CUISINE
ãžã¥ã³ã³ã»ãã»ã¯ãã¯ã€ã§æ²çžã®ããŒããäœããåŠãã ããæ
é·ã®ç¥æ¯ ãäœãã¢ã³ãã®ãŒã®æãåºã倧åã«ããŠããã
47
Junko Bise learned to make Okinawan doughnuts in Hawaiâi but cherishes memories of her grandmotherâs andagi back home.
fresh and hot. While other venues have offered her pop-up spaces, Bise refuses, preferring to sell almost exclusively at Marukai, out of loyalty to Matsu. She cites him as the reason why, more than 10 years since its inception, Aloha Andagi still exists, ensuring that people in Hawaiâi have classic Okinawan andagiâas well as new flavor twistsâto return to.
RICE BLOSSOMS
Five years ago, when Shana Lee tasted baekseolgi, a fluffy and chewy steamed Korean rice cake, for the first time, she was struck by its ephemeralityâher Korean mother-in-law instructed her to eat it within 12 hours. A few years later, when she was looking online for Korean dessert recipes to make for her father-inlaw, she came across Rice Blossoms, a New Jerseybased company making modern Korean sweets in pretty pastels. During the pandemic, Lee further delved into the Korean dessert world and took Rice Blossomâs online workshops to learn how to make treats such as song-pyeon, steamed rice flour dumplings filled with sesame seeds sweetened with brown sugar and honey. She was smitten. After six months of intensive training and with the blessing of Rice Blossoms founder Jennifer Ban, Lee brought these confections to Honolulu through pop-ups and special orders.
For Ban, who is of Korean heritage, the traditional sweets were a part of her childhood. âMom loved rice cakes,â Ban says, recalling her motherâs affinity for injeolmi, soft and chewy like mochi, coated with soybean powder or rewarmed in the microwave and dipped in sugar or honey. âOur after-school snack would be rice cakes instead of cupcakes,â she says. During a vacation in Korea as an adult, Ban took a dessert class and fell in love with the simplicity of the ingredients and the beauty of the Korean desserts she had eaten growing up. Although Korean culture has increased in popularity statesideâeverything from K-pop to Korean tasting menusâBan noticed a void in sweets. In 2017, she started Rice Blossoms âto play a role in sharing modern Korean desserts.â
New mothers seeking a connection to their heritage often reach out to Rice Blossoms for a baeksolgi tteok, a white rice flour cake, symbolizing purity and
ä»ã®åºãããããã¢ããã»ã¹ããŒã¹ãæäŸãããããšããããããã»ãã ã¯æŸãžã®å¿ èª å¿ãããã»ãšãã©ãã«ã«ã€ã§ã®è²©å£²ã«éå®ããŠãããåµæ¥ ãã10幎以äžçµã£ãä»ã§ãã¢ããã¢ã³ãã®ãŒãååšãããã¯ã€ã®äººã
ãå®çªã®æ²çžã¢ã³ãã®ãŒã ãã§ãªããæ°ããå³ã«ã¢ã¬ã³ãžãããã¢ã³ã ã®ãŒããªããŒãããŠãããã®ã¯ã圌ã®ãããã ãšåœŒå¥³ã¯èšãã
ã©ã€ã¹ã»ããããµã ãº
5幎åãã·ã£ãã»ãªãŒã¯åããŠãã¯ãœã«ã®ãšãããµããµãã¢ãã¢ãã®èžã é€
ãé£ã¹ãæããã®åãã«è¡æãåãããæ°å¹ŽåŸã矩ç¶ã«äœã£ãŠããã ããšéåœé¢šãã¶ãŒãã®ã¬ã·ãããããã§æ¢ããŠãããšãã圌女ã¯ãã¥ãŒ ãžã£ãŒãžãŒå·ãæ ç¹ã«ããããããããã¹ãã«ã«ã©ãŒã®ã¢ãã³ãªéåœ èåãäœã£ãŠããã©ã€ã¹ã»ããããµã ãºã«åºäŒã£ãããã³ãããã¯ã®éã ãªãŒã¯éåœãã¶ãŒãã®äžçãããã«æãäžããã©ã€ã¹ã»ããããµã ã®ãªã³ ã©ã€ã³ã»ã¯ãŒã¯ã·ã§ãããåè¬ãããœã³ãã§ã³ïŒé»ç ç³ãšèèã§çãå³ä» ãããè¡éº»å
¥ãç±³ç²èžãå£åïŒãªã©ã®äœãæ¹ãåŠãã ã圌女ã¯å€¢äžã«ãª ã£ãã6ãæã®å³ãããã¬ãŒãã³ã°ãšã©ã€ã¹ã»ããããµã ãæåã«äœã£ã ãžã§ããã¡ãŒã»ãã³ã«èªãããããªãŒã¯ãããã¢ãããç¹å¥æ³šæãéã㊠ããã«ã«ã«ãã®ãèåãæã¡èŸŒãã ã
éåœã®è¡ãåŒããã³ã«ãšã£ãŠãäŒçµ±çãªãèåã¯åäŸæ代ã®äž éšã ã£ããããæ¯ããã¯ãé€
ã倧奜ãã§ããããšãã³ã¯èšããã€ã³ãžã§ã« ãã¯ãé€
ã®ããã«æãããã¢ãã¢ãããŠããŠãããªç²ããŸã¶ããããé»å ã¬ã³ãžã§æž©ããŠç ç³ãèèãã€ãããããŠé£ã¹ãããæŸèª²åŸã®ããã€ã¯ ã«ããã±ãŒãã®ä»£ããã«ãé€
ã§ããããšåœŒå¥³ã¯èšãã倧人ã«ãªã£ãŠãã äŒæã§éåœã蚪ããéããã¶ãŒãæ宀ã«åå ãããã³ã¯ãçŽ æã®ã·ã³ã ã«ããšã幌ãé ã«é£ã¹ãéåœã®ãã¶ãŒãã®çŸããã«æã蟌ãã ãK-POP ããéåœã®ãã€ã¹ãã£ã³ã°ã¡ãã¥ãŒãŸã§ãéåœæåã®äººæ°ã¯å
šç±³ã§é« ãŸã£ãŠãããããã³ã¯ã¹ã€ãŒãã®ç©ºçœã«æ°ã¥ããã2017幎ã圌女㯠"㢠ãã³ãªéåœãã¶ãŒããå
±æãã圹å²ãæãããã "ã«ã©ã€ã¹ããããµ ã ãå§ããã
48
CUISINE
innocence, thatâs customary at a childâs 100th day or first birthday. Itâs often an austere cake, but Ban adorns her baeksolgi tteok with delicate peonies, roses, cherry blossoms, and other flowers piped from bean paste.
Rice cakes are deeply rooted in Korean culture: âKoreans traditionally used to share them as a symbol of love and care,â Ban says, whether it was coming together to make song-pyeon during the mid-autumn harvest festival or bringing new neighbors pat sirutteok, a rice cake layered with red beans. While the ritual of occasion-specific rice cakes may have faded, Ban still sees the younger generations trying to connect with their culture, saying they âmix and match with the new and old these days.â And in Hawaiâi, Lee sees modern Korean sweets easily embraced in local culture, which is already familiar with similar desserts like Japanese mochi and yokan. Lee says, âI always try to make those references to local people so that they can have some kind of connection and understanding as well.â
PALAMAN PURVEYORS
Palaman Purveyors began with jam. First, a pandan flavor, its steamed rice notes rounded out with coconut; and then ube halaya, a jam made with Filipino purple yam; and then mais con queso, a sweet corn spread sharpened with cheddarâall nostalgic flavors to Randy Cortez and Arlyn Ramos. The pair had initially connected on Instagram over a shared love of food during the pandemic and learned that they had both moved to Hawaiâi from the Philippines when they were children. Together, they created Palaman (which means âfillingâ or âstuffingâ in Tagalog) Purveyors to celebrate the Filipino food culture of their memories, even down to the soda commonly served in plastic bags.
âComing here, you had to assimilate, and the language and culture gets left behind,â Cortez says. He would look forward to when his mom would cook dinner: eating the food of his childhood âwas reclaiming my identity and also remembering what I left behind.â
But while Palaman Purveyorsâ signature jams are anchored in nostalgia, Cortez and Ramos arenât afraid to innovate: pop-up menu items have included
èªåãã¡ã®äŒçµ±ãšã®ã€ãªãããæ±ããæ°ç±³ãããã¡ã¯ãåäŸã®çŸ æ¥ç®ã1æ³ã®èªçæ¥ã«é£ã¹ãç¿æ
£ã®ãããçŽæœãšç¡å¢ã象城ããçœã ç±³ç²ã®ã±ãŒãããã¯ãœã«ã®ã»ããã¯ãæ±ããŠã©ã€ã¹ã»ããããµã ãºã蚪ã ãããšãå€ããæžãã±ãŒãã«ãªããã¡ã ãããã³ã¯ç¡äž¹ãèèãæ¡ãªã© ã®ç¹çŽ°ãªè±ã逡ã§å
ãã ãã¯ãœã«ã®ãäœãã
é€
ã¯éåœæåã«æ·±ãæ ¹ãããŠããïŒ éåœäººã¯äŒçµ±çã«ãæãšæ° é£ãã®è±¡åŸŽãšããŠé€
ãåãåã£ãŠããŸããããšãã³ã¯èšããäžç§ç¯ã«ã¿ ããªã§éãŸã£ãŠãœã³ãã§ã³ãäœã£ãããæ°ãããè¿æããã«å°è±å
¥ãã®é€
ãã·ã«ãã¯ãããã¡ããããããé€
ã€ãã®ååŒã¯èãããããããªããã è¥ãäžä»£ã¯èªåãã¡ã®æåãšã€ãªããããšããŠããããŸããã¯ã€ã§ã¯ãæ¥ æ¬ã®é€
ãçŸçŸ¹ã®ãããªãã¶ãŒãã«æ
£ã芪ããã§ããå°å
ã®æåã«ãé åœã®ã¢ãã³ãªã¹ã€ãŒããåãå
¥ãããããããšãªãŒã¯èŠãŠããããªãŒã¯ èšãã"ç§ã¯ãã€ããå°å
ã®äººã
ãäœããã®ã€ãªãããç解ãæãŠããã ã«ãããããåèã«ããããã«ããŠããŸã"ã
ãã©ãã³ã»ããŒãã€ã€ãŒãº
ãã©ãã³ã»ããŒãã€ã€ãŒãºã¯ãžã£ã ããå§ãŸã£ãããŸããèžãç±³ã®éŠãã ã³ã³ãããã§äžžãããã³ãã³ãã¬ãŒããŒã次ã«ãã£ãªãã³ã®çŽ«ã€ã ã€ã¢ ã䜿ã£ããžã£ã ããŠãã»ãã©ã€ããããŠãã§ããŒããŒãºã§ã·ã£ãŒãã«ä»äž ããã¹ã€ãŒãã³ãŒã³ã¹ãã¬ããããã€ã¹ã»ã³ã³ã»ã±ãœã2人ã¯ãã³ãããã¯ã® æäžã«ãé£ãžã®å
±éã®ææ
ããã€ã³ã¹ã¿ã°ã©ã ã§ç¥ãåããåäŸã®é ã« 2人ãšããã£ãªãã³ãããã¯ã€ã«ç§»äœããããšãç¥ã£ãããããŠäºäººã¯äž ç·ã«Palaman PurveyorsïŒãã©ãã³ã¯ã¿ã¬ãã°èªã§ãè©°ãç©ãã®æïŒã èšç«ãããããŒã«è¢ã«å
¥ããŠé£²ããœãŒããªã©ãæããããã£ãªãã³ã®é£ æåãè®ããŠããŸãã
ãããã«æ¥ããšãååããªããã°ãªãããèšèãæåã眮ãå»ã ã«ãããŠããŸãããšã³ã«ãã¹ã¯èšãã圌ã¯æ¯èŠªãå€é£ãäœã£ãŠãããã®ã 楜ãã¿ã«ããŠãããåäŸã®é ã®æçãé£ã¹ãããšã¯ã"èªåã®ã¢ã€ãã³ã ã£ãã£ãåãæ»ãããšã§ãããšåæã«ã眮ãå»ãã«ãããã®ãæãåºã ããšã§ããã£ã"ã
ãããã¢ããã¡ãã¥ãŒã«ã¯ãããŒããããã¿ãŒã»ãããããŒã¹ãã®ã ããªå³ã®é»ãŽããšã¢ããã«ãããã®ã«ã³ãã¢ãã¡ãã·ã«ã³ãã§ã³ã¬ãŒãã» ãã£ã³ãã©ãŒãïŒçããç²¥ïŒããã³ãã³ã·ãããã§çãããã¢ã€ã¹ã³ãŒã ãŒãªã©ãããã
50
CUISINE
The
ãã©ãã³ããŒãã€ã€ãŒãºãæ¯ãããã£ãªãã³çãŸãã®èåè·äººãã¡ã¯ã幌 å°æã«é£ã¹ããèåããã£ããã«ææ°æåããã
51
Philippine-born confectioners behind Palaman Purveyors bonded over their shared childhood sweets.
In celebration of their unique cultures, Hawaiâi confection makers offer a taste of sweet memories from their past.
ãã¯ã€ã®èåè·äººãã¡ã¯ã ããããã®ãŠããŒã¯ãªæå ã«æ¬æãè¡šããéå»ã®çã æãåºãå³ããã
a black sesame and apple banana lumpia that tastes like peanut butter banana toast; a Mexican chocolate champorado, or sweet rice porridge; and iced coffee sweetened with pandan syrup.
Though Hawaiâi has the largest percentage of Filpinx residents of any state in the country, Filipino cuisine in the islands is largely confined to casual and old-school turo turo spots. On the U.S. mainland however, Filipino chefs are bringing Filipino American flavors to the forefront of the dining scene in cities from Seattle to Los Angeles to Chicago. âThatâs what weâre trying to do,â Ramos says. âTo be a little part of the Filipino food movement would be awesome.â
ãã¯ã€ã¯å
šç±³ã§æããã£ãªãã³ç³»äœæ°ã®å²åãå€ãå·ã ãã島ã
ã®ãã£ãªãã³æçã¯ã«ãžã¥ã¢ã«ã§æãªããã®ã¹ãããã«éãããŠãããã ãããã¢ã¡ãªã«æ¬åã§ã¯ãã·ã¢ãã«ãããµã³ãŒã«ã¹ãã·ã«ãŽãªã©ã®éœåžã§ã ãã£ãªãã³äººã·ã§ãããã£ãªãã³ç³»ã¢ã¡ãªã«äººã®å³ããã€ãã³ã°ã·ãŒã³ã® æåç·ã«æŒãäžããŠãããããããç§ãã¡ãããããšããŠããããšã§ãã ãšã©ã¢ã¹ã¯èšããããã£ãªãã³æçã®ã ãŒãã¡ã³ãã®ã»ãã®äžéšã«ãªãã ãæé«ã§ãããšã©ã¢ã¹ã¯èšãã
52
CUISINE
TEXT BY SARAH BURCHARD
IMAGES BY JOHN HOOK CREAM OF THE CROP
æïŒãµã©ã»ããŒãã£ãŒ åçïŒãžã§ã³ã»ããã¯
Sweet Land Farm is Oâahuâs only certified goat dairy.
ã¹ãŠã£ãŒãã»ã©ã³ãã»ãã¡ ãŒã ã¯ãªã¢ã島ã§å¯äžã® èªå®ã€ã®é
ªèŸ²å Žã
ã¯ãªãŒã ã»ãªãã»ã¶ã»ã¯ããã
On an island that imports the vast majority of its food, every farm countsâespecially when that farm is the only one of its kind.
é£æã®å€§éšåã茞å
¥ããŠãããã®å³¶ã§ã¯ããã¹ãŠã®èŸ²å ŽãéèŠã§ããã
On a sunny morning at Sweet Land Farm, a group of 15 are gathered outside of a four-car garage that has been converted into a farm shop and cheese-making room. They are surrounded by rolling green pastures, blue skies, and red barns that house the farmâs roughly 300 goats.
After a primer on goat dairy operations from Emma Bello, the 34-year-old owner of the farm, guests meander from barn to barn, feeding, petting, and learning to milk the goats. The animals are playful, snuggling up when guests reach out their hands. âTheyâre a lot like dogs,â Bello says. âThey make you laugh. They make you mad. At the end of the day, theyâre very lovable.â
ããæŽããæ¥ã®æãã¹ãŠã£ãŒãã»ã©ã³ãã»ãã¡ãŒã ã®15人ã®ã°ã«ãŒããã ãã¡ãŒã ã»ã·ã§ãããšããŒãºè£œé 宀ã«æ¹è£
ããã4å°åã®ã¬ã¬ãŒãžã®å€ ã«éãŸã£ãŠããããªã ãããªç·ã®ç§èå°ãéã空ããããŠçŽ300é ã®ã€ ã®ã飌ãèµ€ãçŽå±ã«å²ãŸããŠããã
34æ³ã®èŸ²å Žäž»ããšãã»ããããã€ã®ã®é
ªèŸ²äœæ¥ã«ã€ããŠå
¥éç ãªèª¬æãåããåŸãã²ã¹ãã¯çŽå±ããçŽå±ãžãšç§»åããã€ã®ã«é€ãã㣠ãããæ«ã§ãããä¹³ããŒããç¿ã£ãããããåç©ãã¡ã¯éã³å¥œãã§ã客ã æã䌞ã°ããšå¯ãæ·»ã£ãŠããããã€ã®ã¯ç¬ã«äŒŒãŠããŸãã圌ãã¯ããªãã ç¬ãããããæããããããŸããçµå±ã®ãšããã圌ãã¯ãšãŠãæãã¹ãå åšãªã®ã§ããã
54
CUISINE
äœå¹Žãåã«äººããããªããã®ãããªããšãããŠããã®ã§ããïŒããšèšãããããšããããŸããç§ã¯çããŸããããç§ã¯äººã
ã«é£ã äžããããšããŠããã®ã§ãããç§ãã¡ã¯ãã ããã ãã®ããã«ããããã²ãšã€ã®èŸ²å Žã§ããïŒãšãã»ãããèŸ²å Žäž» â
I was once asked many years ago, âWhy do you do what you do?â I responded, âI feed people.â We are one more farm striving to do just that.â
Emma Bello, farmer
At the local industryâs peak in 1955, when it was valued at more than $33 million, there were over 80 dairies on Oâahu. That number declined dramatically as lower-cost imports priced out local farms. Hawaiâi now imports 80 to 90 percent of its foodâa major cause for concern for food security in the islands. According to David Lopez, executive officer at the Hawaiâi Emergency Management Agency, if there is a natural disaster and cargo ships canât reach Oâahu, there is only enough food on the island to support the resident and visitor population for about four days.
To address this alarming dependence on imported food, the state government created a plan in 2005 to double local food production by 2030. As the only option for milk and cheese produced commercially on Oâahu, Sweet Land Farm is not just an attraction for visitors, schools, and families, it represents a crucial step forward in meeting Hawaiâiâs sustainability goals. âBecause we are the only dairy on Oâahu, itâs essential, you know?â Bello says. âWe need this farm going for the community.â
Originally a culinary student, Bello intended to pursue a career as a pastry chef. But as the daughter of two poultry farmers, she was also curious about farming. After interning at Alan Wongâs in Honolulu, Bello took on a summer internship at Surfing Goat Dairy on Maui. She was bottle-feeding a baby goat one day, laughing at how he was grunting and sticking his tongue out, when she knew she was meant for goat farming. âI stayed there for a whole year instead of just the summer,â Bello says. Before she left Maui, her family purchased 86 acres outside of WahiawÄ, where Bello grew up and where her family has lived since the 1800s. While they prepped the land, Bello continued her training on a goat farm in California, returning to open Sweet Land Farm in 2010.
Today the farm makes four varieties of goat cheeseâsoft and spreadable chevre; salty, crumbly feta; gouda, ready to be sliced and melted; and tomme, a hard cheese similar to parmesanâin addition to soaps, lotions, and desserts, all made from scratch with goat milk produced on site. After the tour, the dayâs visitors pile into the farm shop and emerge with treats to enjoy outside on picnic tables at the center
CUISINE
æçæãè¿ãã1955幎ãå°å Žç£æ¥ã¯3ïŒ300äžãã«ä»¥äžã®äŸ¡ å€ãããããªã¢ã島ã«ã¯80以äžã®é
ªèŸ²å ŽããããŸãããããããäœäŸ¡æ Œ ã®èŒžå
¥åã«æŒããããã®æ°ã¯æ¿æžãããçŸåšããã¯ã€ã§ã¯é£æã®80ïŒ
ãã90ïŒ
ã茞å
¥ããŠããããã¯ã€è«žå³¶ã®é£æå®å
šä¿éã«ãšã£ãŠå€§ã㪠æžå¿µææãšãªã£ãŠããããã¯ã€ç·æ¥äºæ
管çå±ã®ããããã»ããã¹å·è¡ 圹å¡ã«ãããšãèªç¶çœå®³ãçºçãã貚ç©è¹ããªã¢ã島ã«å°çã§ããªã å Žåã島ã«ã¯äœæ°ãšèŠ³å
客ã®äººå£ãçŽ4æ¥éæ¯ããã ãã®é£æãã㪠ããšããã
ãã®ææ
®ãã¹ã茞å
¥é£åäŸåã«å¯ŸåŠãããããå·æ¿åºã¯2005 幎ã«ã2030幎ãŸã§ã«å°å
ã§ã®é£æçç£ãåå¢ããããšããèšç»ãç å®ããããªã¢ã島ã§åæ¥çã«çä¹³ãšããŒãºãçç£ããå¯äžã®éžæè¢ã§ ããã¹ãŠã£ãŒãã»ã©ã³ãã»ãã¡ãŒã ã¯ã芳å
客ãåŠæ ¡ã家æé£ãã«ãšã£ãŠ é
åçã§ããã ãã§ãªãããã¯ã€ã®æç¶å¯èœãªç®æšãéæããããã® éèŠãªäžæ©ãªã®ã ãããªã¢ã島ã§å¯äžã®é
ªèŸ²å Žã§ããããå¿
èŠäžå¯æ¬ ãªãã§ããå°åã®ããã«ãã®èŸ²å Žãç¶æããå¿
èŠãããã®ã§ãããšãã ã¯èšãã
ããšããšèª¿çåž«ãå°æ»ããŠããããã¯ãããã£ã·ãšãšããŠã®ã㣠ãªã¢ãè¿œæ±ããã€ããã ã£ããããããé€é¶èŸ²å®¶2è»ã®åšã§ãã圌女ã¯ã 蟲æ¥ã«ãèå³ããã£ããããã«ã«ã®ã¢ã©ã³ã»ãŠã©ã³ãºã§ã€ã³ã¿ãŒã³ããã åŸãããã¯ããŠã€å³¶ã®ãµãŒãã£ã³ã»ãŽãŒãã»ãã€ãªãŒã§å€å£ã€ã³ã¿ãŒã³ã ãããããæ¥ãåã€ã®ã«åºä¹³ç¶ã§ãã«ã¯ãäžããŠãã圌女ã¯ãããªããªã ãèãåºãåã€ã®ãèŠãŠç¬ããèªåãã€ã®ã®é£Œè²ã«åããŠããããšãæ ã£ãããå€ã ãã§ãªãã1幎éããã«ããŸããããšããã¯èšããããŠã€å³¶ã é¢ããåã«ã圌女ã®å®¶æã¯ãããè²ã¡ã圌女ã®å®¶æã1800幎代ãã äœãã§ããã¯ãã¢ã¯ãŒéå€ã«86ãšãŒã«ãŒã®åå°ã賌å
¥ãããåå°ã®äž æºåãããéãããã¯ã«ãªãã©ã«ãã¢ã®ã€ã®èŸ²å Žã§ä¿®æ¥ãç¶ãã2010 幎ã«ã¹ãŠã£ãŒãã»ã©ã³ãã»ãã¡ãŒã ããªãŒãã³ããããã«æ»ã£ãŠããã
çŸåšèŸ²å Žã§ã¯ããœãããªã·ã§ãŒãã«ããŒãºãå¡©å³ã§ç ããããã㧠ã¿ããŒãºãã¹ã©ã€ã¹ããŠæº¶ããã ãã®ãŽãŒãããŒãºããã«ã¡ã¶ã³ã«äŒŒãã ãŒãããŒãºã®ãã ã¡ããŒãºã®4çš®é¡ã®ã€ã®ã®ããŒãºã®ã»ããç³é¹žãããŒã· ã§ã³ããã¶ãŒãã補é ããŠããããã¢ãŒãçµãããšããã®æ¥ã®èšªåè
ã¯ã ã¡ãŒã ã»ã·ã§ããã«éãŸãããã¡ãŒã ã®äžå€®ã«ãããã¯ããã¯ã»ããŒãã«ã§ é£äºã楜ããããã®äžã«ã¯ã家æé£ããã·ã§ããããã¬ãŒãé£éãªã©ãæ·· ãã£ãŠãããããã®èŸ²å Žã¯ãé£ã¹ç©ãæãããã®ç£å°ãæ°ã«ããã人㪠ã誰ã§ãæ¹ãã€ããããã
58
âTheyâre very lovable,â says farm owner Emma Bello, who discovered her passion for goat farming while interning at a goat dairy on Maui.
ãã€ã®ã¯ãšãŠãæãããããã§ãããšèªãã®ã¯ãèŸ²å Žäž»ã®ãšãã»ããããã ããŠã€å³¶ã®ã€ã®é
ªèŸ²å Žã§ã€ã³ã¿ãŒã³ãããŠãããšãã«ãã€ã®é£Œè²ãžã®æ
ç±ãèŠåºãããšããã
59
Bello and her family live and work at the farm, which occupies 86 acres in Waialua.
ãããšåœŒå¥³ã®å®¶æã¯ãã¯ã€ ã¢ã«ã¢ã«ãã86ãšãŒã«ãŒã® èŸ²å Žã«äœã¿ãåããŠããã
of the farm. Among them are a mix of families, chefs, bloggers, and foodies, but the farm is a draw to anyone who loves food and cares about where it comes from.
Customers help dictate the farm shopâs growing offerings, which can also be found at Whole Foods, Foodland Farms, and select boutique wine shops on the island. To serve its expanding fan base, the company will begin taking online orders and shipping country wide beginning in spring 2024. Also this year, Sweet Land Farm will start selling bottled goat milk, a product in high demand among guests to the farm.
Bello doesnât just raise goatsâshe helps them give birth, talks to them, makes them feel safe. âThey think of me as their mommy,â she says. And Bello is just as dedicated to educating the community and being part of a more resilient local food system as she is to her beloved goats. âI was once asked many years ago, âWhy do you do what you do?ââ Bello says. âI responded, âI feed people.â We are one more farm striving to do just that.â
顧客ã¯ããã®ãã¡ãŒã ã»ã·ã§ãããæäŸããååã®æé·ã決å®ãã ã®ã«åœ¹ç«ã£ãŠããããã¡ãŒã ã®ã¢ã€ãã ã¯ãããŒã«ããŒãºãããŒãã©ã³ãã» ãã¡ãŒã ã島å
ã®å³éžãããããã£ãã¯ã»ã¯ã€ã³ã·ã§ããã§ã賌å
¥ã§ã ããæ¡å€§ãããã¡ã³å±€ã«ãµãŒãã¹ãæäŸãããããå瀟ã¯2024幎æ¥ã ããªã³ã©ã€ã³æ³šæã®åä»ãšå
šåœãžã®çºéãéå§ããããŸãä»å¹Žãã¹ãŠã£ ãŒãã»ã©ã³ãã»ãã¡ãŒã ã¯ãç§å Žã蚪ããã²ã¹ãã®éã§éèŠã®é«ãããã« å
¥ãã€ã®ä¹³ã®è²©å£²ãéå§ããã
ããã¯ã€ã®ãè²ãŠãã ãã§ãªããåºç£ãæäŒãã話ããããå®å¿æ ãäžããããã€ã®ãã¡ã¯ç§ã®ããšãããã ãšæã£ãŠããŸãããšåœŒå¥³ã¯èšãã ãããŠããã¯ãæããã€ã®ãã¡ãšåãããã«ãå°å瀟äŒãæè²ãããã匟 åçãªå°åé£æã·ã¹ãã ã®äžéšãšãªãããšã«ç®èº«ããŠããããäœå¹Žãå ã«âãªããããªããšãããã®ãïŒâãšèšãããããšããããŸããããã¯æ¯ã è¿ã£ãããç§ã¯çããŸãããâç§ã¯äººãé£ã¹ããã®ãäœã£ãŠãããã§ãâ㣠ãŠããããããã¡ã®èŸ²å Žã¯äººãé£ã¹ãã¹ããã®ãäœãããšåªåããŠãã ã ããªãã§ããã
60
CUISINE
The
ON VIEW STARTING APRIL 12 900 S Beretania St honolulumuseum.org
story of aloha wear is a story of Hawaiâi
IMAGE BY IJFKE RIDGLEY
CULTURE
TEXT BY TINA GRANDINETTI
IMAGES BY IJFKE RIDGLEY
A DIASPORIC DIALOGUE
ãã£ã¢ã¹ããªãã¯ã»ãã€ã¢ãã° æïŒãã£ãã»ã°ã©ã³ãã£ããã㣠åçïŒã¢ã€ãã¯ã»ãªããžãªãŒ
Ukwanshin Kabudan reconnects
Hawaiâiâs Okinawan community with their homeland through music, dance, and cultural education.
é³æ¥œããã³ã¹ãæåæè²ãéããŠããã¯ã€ã®æ²çžã³ãã¥ããã£ãšæ
é·ãåã³çµã³ã€ãããŠã¯ã®ã³ã·ã³ã»ã«ããã³ã
Ukwanshin Kabudan uses dance and music to ignite conversations about Ryūkyūan sovereignty.
ãŠã¯ã¯ã³ã·ã³ã«ããã³ã¯ãã ã³ã¹ãšé³æ¥œã§ççã®äž»æš©ã« ã€ããŠèªãåãã
In UchinÄguchi, one of the Indigenous languages of Okinawa, there is a saying: Ichariba chÅdÄ. Once we meet, we are chÅdÄâbrothers and sisters. For many in the diaspora, including myself, the saying reassures us that when we return to our homeland, we are welcomed as family. Yet, on a rainy winter night in Kalihi, my understanding of the saying is challenged by Eric Wada and Norman Kaneshiro, Hawaiâi-born UchinÄnchu and co-founders of Ukwanshin Kabudan, a performing arts troupe dedicated to perpetuating Okinawan arts and culture in Hawaiâi.
âItâs a powerful phrase, right?â Kaneshiro says. âBut if youâre coming from a take-take-take perspectiveâa colonizer perspectiveâwhat it means is that youâre entitled to everybodyâs friendship and love without doing anything in return.â
In January 1900, 26 Okinawan contract laborers arrived in Hawaiâi to work on the plantations, launching a wave of emigration that sent thousands of Okinawans into the diaspora. In the years since, Okinawans in the homeland have endured a brutal battle between two empires, fractured to this day by ongoing Japanese colonization and American military occupation. Meanwhile, those in diaspora have faced discrimination while making home in a foreign land. Today, roughly 100,000 Okinawans live in Hawaiâi.
In this context, what does it mean to meet as chÅdÄ who, though connected by family genealogies and ancestral villages, are also separated by five generations of emigration, an ocean, a language barrier, and vastly different experiences of war and colonization?
æ²çžã®å
äœæ°æã®èšèªã®ã²ãšã€ã§ãããŠãããŒã°ãã«ã¯ãã ãã¡ãã ã°ã¡ããŒã§ãŒããšããããšããããããäžåºŠäŒãã°ãç§ãã¡ã¯ãå
åŒã㧠ãããå§åŠ¹ããªã®ã ãç§ãå«ãå€ãã®ãã£ã¢ã¹ãã©ã«ãšã£ãŠããã®ããšã ãã¯ãç¥åœã«åž°ãã°å®¶æãšããŠè¿ãããããšããå®å¿æãäžããŠãã ããããããã«ãªãã®éšã®éãå¬ã®å€ããã¯ã€çãŸãã®ãŠãããŒã³ã㥠ã§ããããã¯ã€ã§æ²çžã®èžè¡ãšæåãæ°žç¶ãããããšãç®çãšããè å°èžè¡éå£ããŠãŒã¯ã®ã³ã·ã³ã»ã«ããã³ãã®å
±ååµèšè
ã§ãããšãªãã¯ã» ã¯ããšããŒãã³ã»ã«ãã·ãã«ãã£ãŠããã®ããšããã«å¯Ÿããç§ã®ç解㯠èŠãããã
ãå匷ãèšèã§ãããïŒããšã«ãã·ãã¯èšãããã§ããããããªãã ãã€ã¯ã»ãã€ã¯ã»ãã€ã¯ã®èŠç¹ãã€ãŸãæ€æ°å°æ¯é
ã®èŠç¹ããæ¥ããšãã ãããã®èšèã®æå³ã¯ãèŠè¿ããæ±ããããšãªããçã®åæ
ãšæãåãã æš©å©ããããšããããšãªã®ã§ããã
1900幎1æã26人ã®æ²çžäººå¥çŽåŽåè
ããã©ã³ããŒã·ã§ã³ã§å ãããã«ãã¯ã€ã«å°çããäœå人ãã®æ²çžçæ°ããã£ã¢ã¹ãã©ïŒæµ·å€ç§» äœïŒã«è¿œããã移æ°ã®æ³¢ãå§ãŸã£ãããã以æ¥ãç¥åœã®æ²çžçæ°ã¯2〠ã®åžåœéã®æ®é
·ãªæŠãã«èããçŸåšãç¶ãæ¥æ¬ã®æ€æ°å°åãšã¢ã¡ãªã« ã®è»äºå é ã«ãã£ãŠåæãããŠãããäžæ¹ããã£ã¢ã¹ãã©ã®äººã
ã¯ãç°åœ ã®å°ã§æ
é·ãäœããªãããå·®å¥ãšååã«çŽé¢ããŠãããçŸåšããã¯ã€ã« ã¯ããã10äžäººã®æ²çžçæ°ãæ®ãããŠããã
64 CULTURE
When Wada and Kaneshiro founded Ukwanshin Kabudan in 2007, it was with the aim to nurture connections between Hawaiâi and Okinawa through traditional music and dance. More deeply, it was to instill in Hawaiâiâs Okinawan community a sense of reciprocal responsibility, both to the islands of our ancestors and the islands that raised us.
âItâs a strong kuleana (responsibility),â Wada says as we sit on the floor of the dance studio he built in his Kalihi home. He wears a blue T-shirt emblazoned with the Hawaiian adage, âola i ka wai,â meaning âwater is life.â Above him, portraits of masters of the Tamagusuku style of Okinawan classical arts hang in the manner of respected uyafÄfuji, or ancestors. He continues, âIn UchinÄguchi we call it fichi-ukÄ«n.â The verb pulls together two roots, fichun, to pull or inherit, and ukÄ«n, to accept or embrace. Combined, it signifies our accountability to the responsibilities we inherit from our ancestors.
As young boys yearning for more of a connection to their Okinawan ancestry and UchinÄnchu identities, Wada and Kaneshiro both took up dance and sanshin, an Okinawan stringed instrument. Kaneshiro was 16 when he met Wada, ten years his senior, but they quickly bonded over a shared passion for the arts, not just as a practice but also as a kind of compass on their journey to make sense of themselves.
Together, they worked their way through the hierarchies of Okinawan classical arts, studying in Okinawa and deepening their commitment to cultural practice as a way of life. Wada reached the level of shihan, or grandmaster, in dance. Kaneshiro reached the same pinnacle in music. They learned both Japanese and UchinÄguchi and became wellversed in cultural protocol.
âIn a five-minute song, thereâs this whole history, this whole world behind it,â Kaneshiro marvels. As he and Wada explored those worlds, they increasingly understood cultural practice as a political act. âEven speaking your language is a form of activism,â Wada says.
Before it was annexed by Japan in 1879, Okinawa was an independent nation known as the RyÅ«kyÅ« Kingdom. Much like in Hawaiâi, annexation brought the systematic suppression of language and culture, such that today, Okinawaâs Indigenous languages
ãã®ãããªç¶æ³ã®äžã§ãäžæã®ç³»èãå
ç¥ä»£ã
ã®æèœã§ã€ãªã ããªãããã5äžä»£ã«ããã移äœãæµ·ãèšèã®å£ããããŠæŠäºãæ€æ°å°å ãšãã倧ããç°ãªãçµéšã«ãã£ãŠéãŠãããŠããè
å士ããé·è
ãšã㊠åºäŒããšã¯ã©ãããããšãªã®ã ãããã
ã¯ããšã«ãã·ãã2007幎ã«ãŠãŒã¯ã®ã³ã·ã³ã«ããã³ãèšç«ãã ã®ã¯ãäŒçµ±é³æ¥œãšèèžãéããŠãã¯ã€ãšæ²çžã®ã€ãªãããè²ãããã 㣠ããããæ·±ãèšãã°ããã¯ã€ã®æ²çžã³ãã¥ããã£ãŒã«ãç¥å
ã®å³¶ãšç§ãã¡ ãè²ãŠãŠããã島ã«å¯Ÿããçžäºè²¬ä»»ã®æèŠãæ€ãä»ããããã ã£ã
ã匷ãã¯ã¬ã¢ãïŒè²¬ä»»ïŒã§ãããšãã«ãªãã®èªå®
ã«äœã£ããã³ã¹ã¹ã¿ ãžãªã®åºã«åº§ããªããã¯ãã¯èšãããã¯ã€ã®æ Œèš "ola i ka wai"ãã€ãŸ ã "æ°Žã¯åœ "ãšæžãããéãTã·ã£ããçãŠããã圌ã®é äžã«ã¯ãæ²çž å€å
žèžèœã®çåæµã®åž«å ãã¡ã®èåç»ããå°æ¬ãããŠã€ãã¡ãŒããžïŒå
ç¥ïŒã®ããã«é£ŸãããŠããããŠãããŒã°ãã§ã¯ "ãã£ããŠããŒã³ "ãšåŒã ã§ããŸãããã®åè©ã¯2ã€ã®èªæ ¹ãfichunïŒåŒã£åŒµããåãç¶ãïŒãšukÄ«n ïŒåãå
¥ãããæ±ããããïŒãåŒã£åŒµãåããããã®ã ããã®åè©ã¯ãç¥ å
ããåãç¶ãã 責任ã«å¯Ÿããç§ãã¡ã®èª¬æ責任ãæå³ããã
ã¯ããšã«ãã·ãã¯ãæ²çžã®ç¥å
ããŠãããŒã³ãã¥ãšããŠã®ã¢ã€ãã³ ãã£ãã£ãšã®ã€ãªãããæ±ããŠããå°å¹Žæ代ããã³ã¹ãšäžç·ãå§ããã ã«ãã·ãã10æ³å¹Žäžã®ã¯ããšåºäŒã£ãã®ã¯16æ³ã®æã ã£ãããäºäººã¯ ããã«èžè¡ã«å¯Ÿããå
±éã®æ
ç±ã§çµã°ããã
ãµããã¯æ²çžã§åŠã³ãçãæ¹ãšããŠã®æåçå®è·µãžã®ã³ãããã¡ ã³ããæ·±ããªãããæ²çžå€å
žèžèœã®éå±€ãå
±ã«æ©ãã§ãããã¯ãã¯è èžã§åž«ç¯ã®åã«éãããã«ãã·ãã¯é³æ¥œã§åãé ç¹ã極ããã圌ã㯠æ¥æ¬èªãšãŠãããŒã°ãã®äž¡æ¹ãåŠã³ãæåçãªå瀌ã«ã粟éãããã ã«ãªã£ãã
ã5åã®æ²ã®äžã«ããã®èåŸã«ããæŽå²ãäžçããããã ããšã« ãã·ãã¯æåãããã«ãã·ããšã¯ãã¯ããããäžçãæ¢æ±ãããã¡ã«ã æåçå®è·µãæ¿æ²»çè¡çºãšããŠç解ããããã«ãªã£ãããæ¯åœèªã話ã ããšããã掻åã®äžåœ¢æ
ãªã®ã§ãããšã¯ãã¯èšãã
1879幎ã«æ¥æ¬ã«äœµåãããåãæ²çžã¯çççåœãšããŠç¥ãã㊠ããç¬ç«åœå®¶ã ã£ãããã¯ã€ãšåæ§ã䜵åã¯èšèªãšæåã®çµç¹çãªåŒŸ å§ããããããä»æ¥ãæ²çžã®åºæèšèªã¯æ·±å»ãªçµ¶æ»
ã®å±æ©ã«çããŠã ããšèããããŠãããå€ãã®æåçæ
£ç¿ã倱ãããŠãããã¯ããšã«ãã· ãã圌ãã®ããã©ãŒãã³ã¹äžåº§ã«ã€ãããå ç¥å
å£ããšããååèªäœã
68
CULTURE
The troupe aims to instill in Hawaiâiâs Okinawan community a sense of reciprocal responsibility, both to the islands of their ancestors and the islands that raised them.
ãã®äžåº§ã¯ããã¯ã€ã®æ²çžã³ãã¥ããã£ã«ãå
ç¥ã®å³¶ãšèªåãã¡ãè²ãŠãŠ ããã島ã«å¯Ÿããçžäºè²¬ä»»ã®æèŠãæ€ãä»ããããšãç®çãšããŠããã
69
are considered severely endangered. Many cultural practices have been lost. The name that Wada and Kaneshiro gave their performance troupe, Ukwanshin Kabudan, is itself a reminder of this sovereign history, referring to the ukwanshin, or âcrown ships,â that carried large envoys from China to RyÅ«kyÅ« for the coronation of a monarch. Upon their arrival, elaborate music and dance programs known as ukwanshin udui (crown ship dances) were offered to entertain the Chinese delegation. These would become the foundation for Okinawan classical arts.
Heavily influenced by the work of Hawaiian nationalists like Haunani-Kay Trask and LilikalÄ Kameâeleihiwa, Ukwanshin Kabudan looked to dance and music as a way to ignite conversations about RyÅ«kyÅ«an sovereignty and reclaim a culture and history that colonization and occupation tried to erase. In Hawaiâi, that meant not just performing for the Okinawan community, but also educating people about the rich history of Okinawaâand confronting the role of Okinawans as settlers on Hawaiian lands. âWe started bringing up the words âcolonized, assimilated, settler, discrimination,â and especially the older generation didnât take to it,â Wada recalls. âIt was something they couldnât talk about.â Gradually, the conversation changed, often by making connections between the desecration of sacred lands in both Okinawa and Hawaiâiâparticularly by the United States military, which currently operates 32 bases in Okinawa.
In Okinawa, Wada and Kaneshiro found that their outside-insider identitiesâUchinÄnchu born in Hawaiâi but also certified shihanâgranted them a unique kinship with those in their homeland. As musicians, they could create intimate spaces for difficult conversations about Okinawaâs history. And as visitors from the diaspora, they were slightly removed from the familial and intergenerational trauma that arose from those discussions. Eventually, they found themselves tending to wounds that had long been hidden. âWe got to this other level where elders could talk to us,â Kaneshiro says. âThings they had a hard time sharing with their own children but wanted to tell us, because it needed to be passed down to the next generation.â This deep trust demonstrated for them the importance of a reciprocal relationship between Hawaiâi and Okinawa. Where once they
ãã®ãããªå®äž»åœã®æŽå²ãæãèµ·ãããããã®ã§ãããåäž»ã®æŽå åŒ ã®ããã«äžåœããççã«å€§äœ¿ãéãã ãå ç¥ïŒå è¹ïŒãã«ã¡ãªãã§ããã å°çãããšãäžåœããã®äœ¿ç¯å£ãããŠãªãããã«ãå è¹èããšåŒã°ãã 趣åãåãããé³æ¥œãšèèžãæ«é²ãããããããæ²çžã®å€å
žèžèœã®åº ç€ãšãªã£ãã
ããŠããã»ã±ã€ã»ãã©ã¹ã¯ããªãªã«ã©ãŒã»ã«ã¡ãšã¬ã€ãã¯ãšãã£ãã ã¯ã€ã®ãã·ã§ããªã¹ãã®æŽ»åã«å€å€§ãªåœ±é¿ãåãããŠã¯ã®ã³ã·ã³ã»ã«ã ãã³ã¯ãççã®äž»æš©ã«ã€ããŠèªãåããæ€æ°å°åãšå é ãæ¶ãå»ãã ãšããæåãšæŽå²ãåãæ»ãæ¹æ³ãšããŠãèèžãšé³æ¥œã«æ³šç®ãããã㯠ã€ã§ã¯ãæ²çžã®ã³ãã¥ããã£ã®ããã«æŒå¥ããã ãã§ãªããæ²çžã®è±ã ãªæŽå²ã«ã€ããŠäººã
ãæè²ãããã¯ã€ã®åå°ã«å
¥æ€ããæ²çžã®äººã
㮠圹å²ãšåãåãããšãæå³ããããæ€æ°å°åããããååããããå
¥æ€ã ããå·®å¥ããã......ãšããèšèãæã¡åºãå§ããã®ã§ãããç¹ã«å¹Žé
㮠人ãã¡ã«ã¯åãå
¥ããããŸããã§ããããšã¯ãã¯æ¯ãè¿ããã圌ãã¯ãã® ããšãå£ã«åºããªãã£ãã®ã§ãããæ²çžãšãã¯ã€ã®èå°ãåæ¶ãããŠã ãããšãç¹ã«æ²çžã«çŸåš32ã®åºå°ã眮ããŠããç±³è»ã«ãããã®ã§ãã ããšãé¢é£ã¥ããããšã§ãäŒè©±ã¯åŸã
ã«å€ãã£ãŠãã£ãã
ã¯ããšã«ãã·ãã¯æ²çžã§ããã¯ã€çãŸãã§ãããªããåž«ç¯ã®è³æ Œ ãæã€ãŠãããŒã³ãã¥ãšãããå€ããå
ããã®ã¢ã€ãã³ãã£ãã£ãŒããæ
é·ã®äººã
ãšã®ãŠããŒã¯ãªèŠªè¿æãçãã§ããããšã«æ°ã¥ãããé³æ¥œå®¶ãš ããŠã圌ãã¯æ²çžã®æŽå²ã«ã€ããŠé£ãã話ãããããã®èŠªå¯ãªç©ºéã äœãããšãã§ããããŸãããã£ã¢ã¹ãã©ããã®èšªåè
ãšããŠã圌ãã¯ãã® ãããªè©±ãåãããçãã家æéãäžä»£éã®ãã©ãŠãããå°ãé¢ã㊠ããããããŠåœŒãã¯ãé·ãéé ããŠããå·ã«æãåœãŠãŠããããšã«æ°ã¥ ãããã幎é·è
ãç§ãã¡ãšè©±ãããšãã§ãããå¥ã®ã¬ãã«ã«å°éããã® ã§ãããšã«ãã·ãã¯èšããã次ã®äžä»£ã«åãç¶ãããå¿
èŠããããã㧠ããããã®æ·±ãä¿¡é Œé¢ä¿ã¯ã圌ãã«ãã¯ã€ãšæ²çžã®çžäºé¢ä¿ã®éèŠæ§ã 瀺ããããã€ãŠæ²çžã«ä¿¡é Œãšæš©åšãæ±ããŠããã¯ããšã«ãã·ãã¯ãã㯠ã€ã§æ²çžã®äººã
ãšå
äœæ°æã®ã¢ã€ãã³ãã£ãã£ãåãæ»ããå
±ååµé ã ãæ©äŒãåŸãã®ã ã
70
CULTURE
Japanese annexation brought the systematic suppression of Okinawaâs Indigenous languages and culture, an enduring loss felt by generations of Okinawans today.
æ¥æ¬ã«ããæ²çžäœµåã¯ãæ²çžåºæã®èšèªãšæåãçµç¹çã«åŒŸå§ããã ãšããããããã
71
looked to Okinawa for a sense of authenticity and authority, Wada and Kaneshiro saw an opportunity to reclaim and co-create an Indigenous identity with Okinawans in the homeland.
Over the years, Wada, Kaneshiro, and others at Ukwanshin Kabudan have expanded the organizationâs activities dramatically, offering uta-sanshin classes from co-director Keith Nakaganeku, UchinÄguchi language classes from board member Brandon Ing, monthly workshops on Okinawan culture and politics, and an annual LooChoo Identity Summit that invites Okinawans from around the world to Hawaiâi to spark dialogue about who we are as a people.
It has also become increasingly focused on the kuleana that Okinawans have to Hawaiâi and KÄnaka Maoli (Native Hawaiians). In 2019, during the stand for Mauna Kea, members of Ukwanshin Kabudan led a delegation of Okinawans to offer hoâokupu (gifts) in solidarity with those protecting the sacred mountain at Puâuhonua o Puâuhuluhulu, and in the aftermath of the Red Hill jet fuel leak in 2021, Ukwanshin Kabudan hosted panel discussions to draw vital connections between the U.S. militaryâs contamination of both Hawaiâi and Okinawaâs aquifers. Most recently, the group has become involved with efforts to repatriate the remains of Okinawan ancestors and return them to their rightful resting places.
Reflecting on the ways Ukwanshin Kabudan has grown over the years, Wada says, âGoing back to fichi-ukÄ«n, because that word is connected to so muchâto who we are, and who weâre supposed to beâit just grows.â That is, perhaps, the burden and privilege of living in diaspora: You inherit responsibility for two different kinds of home.
Kaneshiro adds, âBecause when youâre family, you donât just show up to the house to eat and drink. You clean up after, you take care of the house. You come back and show up for the hard times. That is what it means to be chÅdÄ.â
ã¯ããã«ãã·ããã¯ãããšãããŠãŒã¯ã®ã³ã·ã³ã»ã«ããã³ã®ã¡ã³ã ãŒã¯ããã®æ°å¹Žã®éã«æŽ»åãé£èºçã«æ¡å€§ããå
±åãã£ã¬ã¯ã¿ãŒã®ã㌠ã¹ã»ãã«ã¬ãã¯ã«ããæäžç·ã®ã¯ã©ã¹ãçäºã®ãã©ã³ãã³ã»ã€ã³ã°ã«ãã ãŠãããŒã°ãèªã®ã¯ã©ã¹ãæ²çžã®æåãæ¿æ²»ã«é¢ããæ1åã®ã¯ãŒã¯ã· ã§ããããããŠäžçäžã®æ²çžçæ°ããã¯ã€ã«æããç§ãã¡ãã©ã®ãããªæ° æã§ãããã«ã€ããŠå¯Ÿè©±ãä¿ã幎1åã®ã«ãŒãã¥ãŒã»ã¢ã€ãã³ãã£ãã£ã» ãµããããªã©ãéå¬ããŠããã
ãŸããæ²çžçæ°ããã¯ã€ãšã«ãŒãã«ã»ããªãªïŒãã€ãã£ãã»ãã¯ã€ ã¢ã³ïŒã«å¯ŸããŠæã€ã¯ã¬ã¢ãã«ãŸããŸãçŠç¹ãåœãŠãããã«ãªã£ãŠã ãã2019幎ãããŠãã±ã¢å±±ãžã®æè°è¡åäžããŠã¯ã®ã³ã·ã³ã»ã«ããã³ã®ã¡ ã³ããŒã¯æ²çžçæ°ã®ä»£è¡šå£ãçããŠãããŠããã¢ã»ãªã»ããŠã«ãã«ã®è㪠ãå±±ãå®ã人ã
ãšé£åž¯ããŠããªã¯ãïŒèŽãç©ïŒãæ§ãã2021幎ã®ã¬ãã ãã«ã»ãžã§ããçææŒããäºä»¶åŸããŠã¯ã®ã³ã·ã³ã»ã«ããã³ã¯ããã«ã㣠ã¹ã«ãã·ã§ã³ãéå¬ããç±³è»ã«ãããã¯ã€ãšæ²çžã®åž¯æ°Žå±€æ±æãšã®éèŠ ãªã€ãªãããæããã«ãããæè¿ã§ã¯ãæ²çžã®å
ç¥ã®éºéªšãééããæ¬ æ¥ã®å®äœã®å°ã«æ»ãåãçµã¿ã«ãåå ããŠããã
ãã®èšèã¯ãç§ãã¡ãäœè
ã§ãããããããŠäœè
ã§ããã¹ãããå€ ãã®ããšã«ã€ãªãã£ãŠããããã§ãããããããããã£ã¢ã¹ãã©ã«çãã ããšã®éè·ã§ããç¹æš©ãªã®ãããããªãã
ã«ãã·ãã¯ããä»ãå ãããã家æã§ãã以äžããã 家ã«æ¥ãŠé£² ã¿é£ãããã ãã§ã¯ãããŸãããåŸçä»ããããŠã家ã®äžè©±ããããèŸ ãããšããã£ãŠãããŸãæ»ã£ãŠãããããã "chÅdÄ "ã§ãããšããããš ãªã®ã§ããã
72
CULTURE
Today roughly 100,000 Okinawans live in Hawaiâi, many of whom have faced discrimination while making home in a foreign land.
çŸåšãããã10äžäººã®æ²çžçæ°ããã¯ã€ã«äœãã§ãããããã®å€ã㯠ç°åœã®å°ã§æ
é·ãç¯ããªããå·®å¥ã«çŽé¢ããŠããã
73
TEXT BY MITCHELL KUGA
IMAGES BY GERARD ELMORE & LAURA LA MONACA
RHYTHMS OF REVERIE
å¹»æ³ã®ãªãºã
On a mission to legitimize exotica as an art form, The Waitiki 7 make a case for fantasy.
ãšããŸãã«ãšããé³æ¥œãžã£ã³ã«ãã¢ãŒããšããŠç¢ºç«ããããšã䜿åœã«ãã¯ã€ãã£ãã»ã»ãã³ã¯ãã¡ã³ã¿ãžãŒãè¿œæ±ããŠããŸãã æïŒãããã§ã«ã»ã¯ã¬ åçïŒãžã§ã©ã«ãã»ãšã«ã¢ã¢ã ããŒã©ã»ã©ã¢ãã«
The Waitiki 7 share in their devotion to an oftenmisunderstood genre.
ã¯ã€ãã£ã7ã¯ã誀解ãã ãã¡ãªãã®ãžã£ã³ã«ãžã® ç®èº«ãå
±æããŠããã
In 2003, when Randy Wong and Abe Lagrimas Jr. established their musical partnership, they were motivated by a feeling familiar to many far-flung transplants: homesickness. The two friends were studying in Boston at the timeâLagrimas at the Berklee College of Music and Wong at the New England Conservatoryââexperimenting as musicians with different concepts for being local boys away from home,â says Wong, who plays bass.
Two projects formed out of that experimentation, an ukulele-forward trio called Akamai Brain Collective, and Waitiki, an exotica quartet inspired by Arthur Lyman, Les Baxter, and other forefathers of the genre. They launched the two acts on the college lÅ«âau circuit, performing
2003幎ãã©ã³ãã£ã»ãŠã©ã³ã°ãããšãšã€ãã»ã©ã°ãªãã¹ã»ãžã¥ãã¢ããã é³æ¥œå®¶ãšããŠã³ã³ããçµãã ãšãããµããã¯æ
é·ããé ãé¢ããå Žæ㧠æ®ããå€ãã®äººã
ã«ããªãã¿ã®å¿æ
ãã€ãŸãã¯ããŒã ã·ãã¯ã«é§ãã㊠ãããã©ã°ãªãã¹ããã¯ããŒã¯ãªãŒé³æ¥œå€§åŠããŠã©ã³ã°ããã¯ãã¥ãŒã€ ã³ã°ã©ã³ãé³æ¥œé¢ããããããã¹ãã³ã®åŠæ ¡ã«åšåŠäžã§ãããŒã¹å¥è
㧠ãããŠã©ã³ã°ããã®åŒã«ããã°ãâæ
é·ãé¢ãããã¯ã€ã®ããŒã«ã«ã㌠ã€ãšããçŽ æãé³æ¥œçã«ããŸããŸãªã³ã³ã»ããã§è¡šçŸããããšè©Šã¿ãŠ ããâããã ã
ããããè©Šã¿ããçãŸãããµãã€ã®ãããžã§ã¯ãããã¢ã«ãã€ã»ã ã¬ã€ã³ã»ã³ã¬ã¯ãã£ãã®åã§æŽ»åãããŠã¯ã¬ã¬äžå¿ã®ããªãªããããŠã¯ã€ ãã£ãã ãã¯ã€ãã£ãã¯ã¢ãŒãµãŒã»ã©ã€ãã³ãã¬ã¹ã»ãã¯ã¹ã¿ãŒãªã©ãã®ãž ã£ã³ã«ã®çã¿ã®èŠªãšåŒã¶ã¹ããã¥ãŒãžã·ã£ã³ãã¡ã«åœ±é¿ããããšããŸã
CULTURE
74
Waitikiâs music is a living time capsule of the cultural landscape in post-war Hawaiâi, a tapestry of influences set against the alluring backdrop of the golden age of travel.
ã¯ã€ãã£ãã®é³æ¥œã¯ãæŠåŸã®ãã¯ã€ã®æåçæ¯èŠ³ã®çããã¿ã€ã ã«ãã» ã«ã§ãããæ
ã®é»éæ代ãšããé
åçãªèæ¯ã®ããšãæ§ã
ãªåœ±é¿ãåã ãã¿ãã¹ããªãŒã§ããã
75
at Hawaiâi Club events at Boston University and Harvard, then observed which was more popular. âWaitiki is the concept that won,â Wong says.
Over the next two decades, Waitiki emerged as one of the preeminent acts in the revival of exotica, a form of tropical lounge music that emerged postWorld War II in the U.S. and peaked in popularity leading up to Hawaiâiâs statehood. âExotica music became so popular in the â60s that it became cliché,â Wong says, adding that genres like surf rock came to replace exotica in appeal. Today, itâs music youâre most likely to hear in a tiki bar.
Part of Waitikiâs mission is to legitimize exoticaâoften considered a fringe genreâas an art form. In 2008, the group expanded to a septet, The Waitiki 7, and has since released seven records and performed internationally, in Germany and Mexico. Highlights include playing with a 25-piece big band honoring the work of legendary Mexican composer Juan GarcÃa Esquivel and being accompanied by the Hawaii Youth Symphony to a gala that helped raise over $150,000 for music education programs statewide. More recently, in November 2023, Waitiki played two sold-out shows at Halekulaniâs House Without a Keyâa long way from the groupâs more idiosyncratic beginnings.
âWhen I got involved with Waitiki, my second gig [with the band] was a bar mitzvah at the aquarium,â says Tim Meyer, who joined on woodwinds in 2005 and flew in from Mexico for the performances at Halekulani.
âWith pop-and-lock dancers,â Wong adds.
âAnd my third gig was The Hukilau,â Meyer says, âwhich is a tiki festival in Florida.â
Wong smirks. âDonât forget the Hot Rod Hula Hop in Columbus, Ohio, with the barnyard burlesque dancers.â
Growing up in Honolulu, Wong was exposed to exotica without really realizing it. His grandfather was friends with Arthur Lyman, considered one of the exotica greats alongside Martin Denny and Les Baxter. As a kid, Wong would accompany his grandfather to Waialae Country Club on the weekends to watch Lyman perform his signature vibraphone. âIt was just really cool music,â Wong recalls of his early introduction to exoticaâs unique style and sound.
ã«ã®ã«ã«ãããã圌ãã¯äžé£ã®å€§åŠã®ã«ãŒã¢ãŠããã¹ãã³å€§åŠãããŒã ãŒã倧åŠã®ãã¯ã€ã¯ã©ãã®ã€ãã³ããªã©ã§ããããå¥ã®ã°ã«ãŒããšã㊠æŒå¥ããã©ã¡ãã人æ°ãéãããèŠå®ã£ãããã³ã³ã»ãããšããŠãã¯ã€ã㣠ãã«è»é
ãäžãã£ããã§ãããšãŠã©ã³ã°ããã
ããããã®20幎ãã¯ã€ãã£ãã¯ãšããŸãã«ã®ãªãã€ãã«ããŒã ã« ä¹ããåè¶ããããã©ãŒãã³ã¹ã§ãã®åãåããããããããšããŸãã« ãšã¯æŠåŸã®ç±³åœã§çãŸããååœé¢šã®ã©ãŠã³ãžãã¥ãŒãžãã¯ã§ããã®äºº æ°ã¯ãã¯ã€ãç±³åœã®å·ã«ãªã£ãé ïŒ1959幎ïŒã«ããŒã¯ãè¿ããããäººæ° ãé«ãŸããããŠãâ60幎代ã«å
¥ããšæ¬¡ç¬¬ã«é£œããããŠããŸããã§ããã ããŠã人ã
ã®é¢å¿ã¯ãµãŒãããã¯ãªã©ã®ãžã£ã³ã«ã«ç§»ã£ãŠãã£ãããã ã ä»æ¥ããšããŸãã«ãšããã°ãååœãããŒãã«ãããã£ãããŒãªã©ã§è³ã« ããé³æ¥œã ã
ã¯ã€ãã£ãã®äœ¿åœã®ã²ãšã€ã¯ããã°ãåæµãšããŠæ±ãããã¡ãªãš ããŸãã«ãšããé³æ¥œãžã£ã³ã«ãèžè¡ãšããŠç¢ºç«ããããšã ã2008幎ã7 人çµã«æé·ããã°ã«ãŒãã¯ã¯ã€ãã£ãã»ã»ãã³ãšåä¹ãã¯ããããã㧠ã«7æã®ã¢ã«ãã ããªãªãŒã¹ãããã€ããã¡ãã·ã³ãªã©æµ·å€ã§ãæŒå¥ã㊠ããããªãã§ãç¹çãã¹ãã¯ãäŒèª¬çãªã¡ãã·ã³ã®äœæ²å®¶ãã¢ã³ã»ã¬ã«ã· ã¢ã»ãšã¹ããã«ã®åæ¥ãè®ãã25人ã®ããã°ãã³ãã§æŒå¥ããããšããã ã¯ã€ã®é³æ¥œæè²ããã°ã©ã ã®ããã«15äžãã«ä»¥äžã®åéãéããå¬ã ã§ãã¯ã€ã»ãŠãŒã¹ã»ã·ã³ãã©ããŒãšå
±æŒããããšãªã©ãæè¿ã§ã¯2023幎 11æããã¬ã¯ã©ãã®ããŠã¹ ãŠã£ãºã¢ãŠã 㢠ããŒã§è¡ãããã·ã§ãŒã§ã2 åãšããã±ããã¯å®å£²ãšãªã£ãããããç¹ç°ãšãããã圌ãã®ã¹ã¿ãŒãã æãã°ãããã¶ãæé·ããæãããã
ãã¯ã€ãã£ãã«åå ããŠäºåºŠç®ã®ã®ã°ã¯ãæ°Žæ通ã§è¡ããã ãã«ããããŒïŒèš³æ³šïŒãŠãã€æã®ç·åã®æ人ã®ãç¥ãïŒã ã£ããã§ã ãã2005幎ã«æšç®¡å¥è
ãšããŠå å
¥ãããã¬ã¯ã©ãã§ã®æŒå¥ã®ããã«ã¡ ãã·ã³ããæ¥åžãããã£ã ã»ã¡ã€ã€ãŒããã¯æ¯ãè¿ãã
ããããã»ã¢ã³ãã»ããã¯ã®ãã³ãµãŒãäžç·ã§ããããŠã©ã³ã°ãã ãã€ãå ããã
ãã§ãäžåºŠç®ã®ã®ã°ã¯ã¶ã»ããã©ãŠã§ããããšã¡ã€ã€ãŒãããããã ã©ãŠãšããã®ã¯ããããªãã§è¡ããããã£ãã»ãã§ã¹ããã«ã®ããšã§ãã
ãŠã©ã³ã°ãããã«ãããšç¬ããããªãã€ãªå·ã³ãã³ãã¢ã®ãããã»ã ããã»ãã©ã»ããããå¿ãã¡ããããªãããç¬ãã®ã¹ããªãããã³ãµãŒãã¡ ãšã®å
±æŒã ã£ããããªããã
ããã«ã«åºèº«ã®ãŠã©ã³ã°ããã¯ããã€ã®éã«ããšããŸãã«ãšããé³ æ¥œã«è§ŠããŠããã圌ã®ç¥ç¶ã¯ãããŒãã£ã³ã»ãããŒãã¬ã¹ã»ãã¯ã¹ã¿ãŒãšäžŠ ãã§ãšããŸãã«ã®å€§å®¶ãšãããã¢ãŒãµãŒã»ã©ã€ãã³ã®å人ã§ããŠã©ã³ã°ã
76
CULTURE
Itâs a genre that Wong feels is often misunderstood as an ironic, kitschy province of musical hobbyists, not professionalsâminimized for being more about the fantasy of the South Seas than the actual place. In 2004, a Waitiki show in Boston was picketed by a small group of law students from Hawaiâi, who argued that exotica isnât Native Hawaiian music. âBut no oneâs saying itâs Native Hawaiian music,â Wong explains, noting that a conversation with the picketers helped clarify where Waitiki was coming from. For Wong, Waitikiâs music is a living time capsule of the cultural landscape in post-war Hawaiâi, a tapestry of Polynesian, Asian, hapa haole, and Latin elements, set against the alluring backdrop of the golden age of travel. Echoing Martin Dennyâs sentiment, âitâs pure fantasy,â and to further emphasize that element of escapism, the group created a fictional island from which they claimed to originateâOkonkulukuâand a complicated handshake that Okonkuluku ânativesâ use to greet one another.
According to Wong, what distinguishes Waitiki from most modern neo-exotica acts is the groupâs musicianship. Waitikiâs rotating cast of members are all virtuosos, some with deep connections to the genre, like percussionist August Lopaka Colón Jr., whose father was a founding member of Martin Dennyâs band. Itâs what allows the group to reproduce the sounds of the genre as they were played mid-century, during exoticaâs heyday. âItâs upright bass, not electric bass,â explains Wong, who also serves as president and CEO of the Hawaii Youth Symphony. âItâs piano and vibraphone, not synthesizer. Itâs bird and animal sounds made by people, not by samples.â
At the House Without A Key show, the mood was relaxed and festive. Wearing matching aloha wear, the group riffed, jammed, improvised, and swayed their way through a setlist of covers and originals. Within a single song, Colón Jr. worked through a hodgepodge of percussive instrumentsâhe had over 30 with him on stageâbut the most striking sounds were the ones emanating from his throat. His assortment of bird calls soared above the lanterns hanging from the hotelâs iconic kiawe tree, piercing the night sky.
CULTURE
ãã¯æ¯é±æ«ç¥ç¶ã®ããšãã§ã¯ã€ã¢ã©ãšã»ã«ã³ããªãŒã»ã¯ã©ãã蚪ãããã¬ãŒ ãããŒã¯ã®ãŽã£ãã©ãã©ã³ãæŒå¥ããã©ã€ãã³ã®ããã©ãŒãã³ã¹ãç®ã®åœ ããã«ããŠãããããšã«ãããã£ãããé³æ¥œã§ããããŠã©ã³ã°ããã¯å¹Œãé ã«è§ŠãããšããŸãã«ç¹æã®ãŠããŒã¯ãªã¹ã¿ã€ã«ãšé³ãæ¯ãè¿ãã
ãããã¥ã§é¢šåºçã§ãäžéšã®é³æ¥œããã¢åããããã®èžè¡å®¶ã¯èŠ åããããªããå®åšã®å Žæã§ããªãããã ã®ç©ºæ³äžã®åã®æµ·ã®é³æ¥œãšèŠ äžãããŠããããšããŸãã«ãšãããžã£ã³ã«ã¯ãããªãµãã«èª€è§£ãããã¡ ã ãšãŠã©ã³ã°ããã¯èšãã2004幎ããã¹ãã³ã§è¡ãããã¯ã€ãã£ãã®ã· ã§ãŒã§ã¯ããã¯ã€åºèº«ã®æ³åŠéšã®åŠçãã¡æ°äººãããšããŸãã«ã¯ãã¯ã€ åºæã®é³æ¥œã§ã¯ãªããšäž»åŒµããŠãã±ã匵ã£ããããããããã¯ã€åºæã® é³æ¥œã ãªããŠèª°ãèšã£ãŠããªããã§ãããã ãããã±ã匵ã£ãåŠçãã¡ãš ã®å¯Ÿè©±ã®ãããã§ã¯ã€ãã£ãã®æºãã¯ã£ããããããã ããŠã©ã³ã°ãã ã«ãšã£ãŠã¯ã€ãã£ãã®é³æ¥œã¯ãæŠåŸã®ãã¯ã€æåå
šè¬ãä»ã«ãã¿ããã ããçããã¿ã€ã ã«ãã»ã«ãé
æããµããæ
è¡ã®é»éæ代ãèæ¯ã«ãã ãªãã·ã¢ãã¢ãžã¢ãããã»ããªã¬ãã©ãã³ãªã©ã®ãšãã»ã³ã¹ã玡ãåºãæå ã®ã¿ãã¹ããªãŒãªã®ã ããšããŸãã«ã¯âçŽç²ãªã空æ³ã®äžçâãšããã㌠ãã£ã³ã»ãããŒã®èšèãåæ ãã€ã€ãçŸå®éé¿ãšããåŽé¢ããŸããŸã匷 調ããããã«ãã¯ã€ãã£ãã®ã¡ã³ããŒã¯âãªã³ã³ã¯ã«ã¯âãšããæ¶ç©ºã®å³¶ã ããã£ãŠããããšã«ããŠããããããŠãâãªã³ã³ã¯ã«ã¯äººâã®æšæ¶ãšããŠè€ éãªæ¡æã亀ããã®ã ã
ãŠã©ã³ã°ããã«ããã°ããã£ãšæè¿ã®ã»ãã®ããªãšããŸãã«ã®ã ã³ãããã¯ã€ãã£ããäžç·ãç»ããŠããã®ã¯ãæŒå¥æè¡ã®é«ãã ãšããã ã¯ã€ãã£ãã®æºã¡ã³ããŒãã¡ã¯ãããããã®æ¥œåšã®é人ã§ãããŒãã£ã³ã» ãããŒã»ãã³ãã®åµèšã¡ã³ããŒãç¶ã«æã€ããŒã«ãã·ã§ãã¹ãã®ãªãŒã¬ ã¹ãã»ããã«ã»ã³ãã³ã»ãžã¥ãã¢ããã®ããã«ãšããŸãã«ãšãããžã£ã³ã«ãž ã®é è©£ãæ·±ãã¡ã³ããŒããããã ãããããšããŸãã«å
šçæã20äžçŽäž é ã®é³æ¥œæ§ããã®ãŸãŸåçŸããããšãã§ããã®ã ããããŒã¹ã¯ã³ã³ãã©ã ã¹ããšã¬ã¯ããªãã¯ã®ããŒã¹ã®ã¿ãŒã¯äœ¿ããŸããããã¯ã€ã»ãŠãŒã¹ã»ã·ã³ã ã©ããŒã®å£é·å
ŒCEOãåãããŠã©ã³ã°ããã¯èª¬æããããã·ã³ã»ãµã€ã¶ ãŒã§ã¯ãªãããã¢ãããŽã£ãã©ãã©ã³ã䜿ããŸããé³¥ãåç©ã®é³Žã声ãããµ ã³ããªã³ã°ã§ã¯ãªã人ãå®éã«ç䌌ãŠããã®ã§ãã
ããŠã¹ ãŠã£ãºã¢ãŠã 㢠ããŒã®ã·ã§ãŒã¯ãéœæ°ã§ãã€ããã ã ãŒã ã«å
ãŸããŠãããããããã®ã¢ããã·ã£ãã«èº«ãå
ã¿ã圌ãã¯å¿ã®ãã ãããŸãŸã«ãªããéããŠæŒå¥ã楜ãã¿ããªãºã ã«ä¹ã£ãŠãé³ã«èº«ããã ã ãªãããã«ããŒæ²ãšãªãªãžãã«æ²ãå
¥ãæ··ããã»ãããªã¹ãã®æŒå¥ãçµ ããã1æ²ã®ãªãã§ãã³ãã³ã»ãžã¥ãã¢ããã¯ã¹ããŒãžã«æã¡èŸŒãã 30
78
The bandâs percussionist, August Lopaka Colón Jr., makes a point of incorporating bird calls that are native to Hawaiâi.
ãã³ãã®ããŒã«ãã·ã§ãã¹ãããªãŒã¬ã¹ãã»ããã«ã»ã³ãã³ã»ãžã¥ãã¢ã¯ãã ã¯ã€åºæã®é³¥ã®é³Žã声ãåãå
¥ããããšã倧åã«ããŠããã
79
The groupâs rotating members are all virtuosos, some with deep connections to the genre.
ã°ã«ãŒãã®ã¡ã³ããŒã¯å
¥ã æ¿ããç«ã¡æ¿ããããã®ãžã£ ã³ã«ãšæ·±ãé¢ãããæã€å æã°ããã ã
Later in the evening, Harold Chang, the last remaining member of the Martin Denny and Arthur Lyman group, was invited on stage. The crowd erupted into spirited applause as the 95-year-old drummer accompanied the group in playing âQuiet Village,â a lush exotica staple from Dennyâs album Ritual of the Savage. A week later, Wong was still pinching himself.
For Wong, Changâs presence and participation lent credence to Waitikiâs passion and purpose.
âSome say exotica isnât a culturally authentic art form because itâs not native,â Wong says. âBut it has its own world and its own presence, and to have Harold there playing with us, itâs like heâs telling us what weâre doing is the right thing to do.â
以äžã®æ楜åšãå·§ã¿ã«æŒå¥ãåããã®ã ããå§å·»ã¯åœŒã®åããåºãŠã ã声ã ã圌ãç䌌ãããããŸããŸãªé³¥ã®å£°ã¯ãæç¯ãäžããããã«ã® ã·ã³ãã«çãªãã¢ãŽã§ã®æšã®äžã«èãäžãããå€ç©ºãçªãæãããã ã«é¿ãæž¡ã£ãã
å€ããµããããŒãã£ã³ã»ãããŒãšã¢ãŒãµãŒã»ã©ã€ãã³ã»ãã³ãã®æåŸ ã®çãæ®ãã§ããããã«ãã»ãã£ã³ã°ãããã¹ããŒãžã«æãããããã ãŒã®ã¢ã«ãã ãæªé人ã®ååŒãã«åé²ãããŠãããŽãŒãžã£ã¹ãªãšããŸã ã«ã®å®çªãéããªæãã®æŒå¥ã«95æ³ã®ãã£ã³ã°ããããã©ã ã§å ãã ãšãäŒå Žã¯ççãªææåéã§æ²žãè¿ã£ããããããäžé±éãã£ãä»ã ãŸã 倢ã®ãããªæ°ãããŠããŠã©ã³ã°ããã¯é ¬ãã€ãããã«ã¯ããããªãã
ãã£ã³ã°ãããããã«ããããšããããŠå
±æŒããŠãããããšã§ãã¯ã€ ãã£ããšããã°ã«ãŒãã®æ
ç±ãšäœ¿åœãè£ä»ããããããã«æããããšãŠ ã©ã³ã°ãããããšããŸãã«ã¯ãã¯ã€åºæã®é³æ¥œã§ã¯ãªãããæ¬ç©ã®èžè¡ ã§ã¯ãªããšããæèŠããããŸããããšããŸãã«ã«ã¯ãšããŸãã«ç¬èªã®äž çãšããæ¹ããããã§ããããã«ããããå
±æŒããŠãããããšã§ãããŸã ãã¡ã®ãã£ãŠããããšã¯æ£ããããšèšããããããªæ°ãããŸãã
80
CULTURE
Introducing Ward Villageâs Newest Residential Offering
The Launiu Ward Village residences are an artful blend of inspired design and timeless sophistication. Expansive views extend the interiors and a host of amenities provide abundant space to gather with family and friends.
The Launiu Ward Village ã¯ãèžè¡æ§ããµããã¿ã€ã ã¬ã¹ãªæŽç·ŽããŸãšã£ãã¬ãžãã³ã¹ã åºããçºæã¯å®€å
ã«åºããããããããçŽ æŽãããã¢ã¡ããã£ã®æ°ã
ã§ã¯å®¶æãå人ãã¡ãšã® ããããã®ãªãæéã玡ãã
Studio, One, Two, and Three Bedroom Honolulu Residences
ããã«ã«ã®ã¹ã¿ãžãªã1ãããã«ãŒã ã2ãããã«ãŒã ã3ãããã«ãŒã ã¬ãžãã³ã¹
INQUIRE
thelauniuwardvillageliving.com | 808 470 6740
Offered by Ward Village Properties, LLC RB-21701
THE PROJECT IS LOCATED IN WARD VILLAGE, A MASTER PLANNED DEVELOPMENT IN HONOLULU, HAWAII, WHICH IS STILL BEING CONSTRUCTED. ANY VISUAL REPRESENTATIONS OF WARD VILLAGE, INCLUDING WITHOUT LIMITATION, RETAIL ESTABLISHMENTS, PARKS, AMENITIES, OTHER FACILITIES AND THE CONDOMINIUM PROJECTS THEREIN, INCLUDING THEIR LOCATION, UNITS, VIEWS, FURNISHINGS, DESIGN, COMMON ELEMENTS AND AMENITIES, DO NOT ACCURATELY PORTRAY THE CONDOMINIUM PROJECTS OR THE MASTER PLANNED DEVELOPMENT. ALL VISUAL DEPICTIONS AND DESCRIPTIONS IN THIS ADVERTISEMENT ARE FOR ILLUSTRATIVE PURPOSES ONLY. THE DEVELOPER MAKES NO GUARANTEE, REPRESENTATION OR WARRANTY WHATSOEVER THAT THE DEVELOPMENTS, FACILITIES OR
CONDOMINIUM
WARNING:
THIS IS NOT INTENDED TO BE AN OFFERING OR SOLICITATION OF SALE IN ANY JURISDICTION WHERE THE PROJECT IS NOT REGISTERED IN ACCORDANCE WITH APPLICABLE LAW OR WHERE SUCH OFFERING OR SOLICITATION WOULD OTHERWISE BE PROHIBITED BY LAW. NOTICE TO NEW YORK RESIDENTS: THE DEVELOPER OF THE LAUNIU WARD VILLAGE AND ITS PRINCIPALS ARE NOT INCORPORATED IN, LOCATED IN, OR RESIDENT IN THE STATE OF NEW YORK. NO OFFERING IS BEING MADE IN OR DIRECTED TO ANY PERSON OR ENTITY IN THE STATE OF NEW YORK OR TO NEW YORK RESIDENTS BY OR ON BEHALF OF THE DEVELOPER/OFFEROR OR ANYONE ACTING WITH THE DEVELOPER/OFFERORâS KNOWLEDGE. NO SUCH OFFERING, OR PURCHASE OR SALE OF REAL ESTATE BY OR TO RESIDENTS OF THE STATE OF NEW YORK, SHALL TAKE PLACE UNTIL ALL REGISTRATION AND FILING REQUIREMENTS UNDER THE MARTIN ACT AND THE ATTORNEY GENERALâS REGULATIONS ARE COMPLIED WITH, A WRITTEN EXEMPTION IS OBTAINED PURSUANT TO AN APPLICATION IS GRANTED PURSUANT TO AND IN ACCORDANCE WITH COOPERATIVE POLICY STATEMENTS #1 OR #7, OR A âNO-ACTIONâ REQUEST IS GRANTED.
IMPROVEMENTS OR FURNISHINGS AND APPLIANCES DEPICTED WILL ULTIMATELY APPEAR AS SHOWN OR EVEN BE INCLUDED AS A PART OF WARD VILLAGE OR ANY
PROJECT THEREIN. WARD VILLAGE PROPERTIES, LLC, RB-21701. COPYRIGHT ©2024. EQUAL HOUSING OPPORTUNITY.
THE CALIFORNIA BOARD OF REAL ESTATE HAS NOT INSPECTED, EXAMINED OR QUALIFIED THIS OFFERING.
THE LAUNIU WARD VILLAGE AMENITY LOBBY
IMAGE BY JOSIAH PATTERSON
WELLNESS
TEXT BY MARTHA CHENG
IMAGES BY MCKENNA CONFORTI, JOSIAH PATTERSON & BRENT RAND
æïŒããŒãµã»ãã§ã³
åçïŒããã±ã³ãã»ã³ã³ãã©ã«ãã£ã ãžã§ãµã€ã¢ã»ãã¿ãŒãœã³ããã¬ã³ãã» ã©ã³ã
AGAINST THE GRAIN
ã¢ã²ã€ã³ã¹ãã»ã¶ã»ã°ã¬ã€ã³
Bizia
Surf transforms one of Hawaiâiâs most destructive trees into a sustainable alternative for the surfboard industry.
Bizia Surfã¯ããã¯ã€ã§æãç Žå£åã®åŒ·ãæš¹æšã®ã²ãšã€ãããµãŒãããŒãæ¥çã®ããã®æç¶å¯èœãªä»£æ¿åãžãšå€èº«ãããã
WELLNESS
86
Whatâs first striking about the surfboards is how beautiful they are. Made with lengths of invasive albizia, they feature striations of blonde and light brown, like the highlights in a surferâs hair. Then, upon picking them up, whatâs most noticeable is how light they areâ the fish model weighs the same as a standard twin fin, the 9-foot longboard is barely heavier than a typical noserider. In the water, too, they are surprisingly livelyâbuoyant, even.
Made by Bizia Surf, these surfboards take one problemâthe environmentally toxic production process and materials of modern-day boardsâand addresses it with another: invasive albizia, one of Hawaiâiâs most destructive trees. Introduced to the islands in 1917 from Indonesia as a reforestation effort, Hawaiâiâs albizia are among the fastest-growing trees in the world, crowding out native ecosystems as they gain more than 15 feet a year. In 2004, heavy rains and albizia debris caused the flooding of MÄnoa stream and an estimated $85 million in damage. In 2014, albizia became known as âthe tree that ate Punaâ when thousands of them fell during Hurricane Iselle, destroying houses, downing power lines, and blocking roads.
Because of how quickly albizia grows, it was commonly assumed that the wood was weak. Still, in 2015, Joey Valenti, then an architecture graduate student, lamented when he saw huge albizia trees, some 150 feet tall, cut down during a removal project at Lyon Arboretum and learned that the logsâfree potential lumberâwere just being dumped. With the help of a structural engineer, Valenti found that the wood was just as strong as Douglas fir, a common lumber, and set out to prove that you could build with albizia.
In the process, he went to visit master woodworker Eric Bello at his millwork shop in WahiawÄ. In that first meeting, he spotted an albizia surfboard behind Bello. âI felt like I was in the right place,â Valenti says. For years, though, his attention was diverted by his architecture thesis project, and with Belloâs help, he set to work on Lika, a proof of concept for albizia as a building material. When the arched wooden structure resembling the WaikÄ«kÄ« Shell was completed in 2018 and displayed on the front lawn of UH MÄnoa, demand for Valentiâs work immediately grew. High-profile clients like the Patagonia store at
ãµãŒãããŒãã§ãŸãç®ãåŒãã®ã¯ããã®çŸããã ãç Žå£åã®åŒ·ãããã® æšã®é·ãã§äœããããµãŒãããŒãã¯ããµãŒãã¡ãŒã®é«ªã®ãã€ã©ã€ãã®ã ããªããã³ããšã©ã€ããã©ãŠã³ã®çžæš¡æ§ãç¹åŸŽã ããã£ãã·ã¥ã¢ãã«ã®é ãã¯æšæºçãªãã€ã³ãã£ã³ãšåãã§ã9ãã£ãŒãã®ãã³ã°ããŒãã¯äžè¬ç ãªããŒãºã©ã€ããŒãããã»ãšãã©éããªããæ°Žäžã§ããé©ãã»ã©çãçã ãšããŠããŠãæµ®åããããã
Bizia Surfã補é ãããã®ãµãŒãããŒãã¯ãç°å¢ã«æ害ãªè£œé å·¥ çšãçŽ æãšãã£ãçŸä»£ã®ããŒãã®åé¡ãããã¯ã€ã§æãç Žå£åã®åŒ·ã æš¹æšã®ã²ãšã€ã§ããç¹å®å€æ¥çç©ã®ããã®æšãšããå¥ã®åé¡ã§è§£æ±ºã ãŠããã1917幎ã森æåçã®ããã«ã€ã³ããã·ã¢ãããã¯ã€ã«æã¡èŸŒ ãŸããããã®æšã¯ãäžçã§æãæ¥éã«æé·ããæš¹æšã®ã²ãšã€ã§ããã1 幎ã«15ãã£ãŒã以äžãæé·ããããããã¯ã€åºæã®çæ
ç³»ãæ··éãã ãŠããã2004幎ã豪éšãšã¢ã«ããžã¢ã®ç Žçãããã¢ã®å°å·ãæ°Ÿæ¿«ããã æšå®8500äžãã«ã®è¢«å®³ãåºãã2014幎ãããã®æšã¯ããªã±ãŒã³ãã€ãŒ ã«ãã®éã«æ°åæ¬ãåãã家å±ãç Žå£ããé»ç·ãåæããéè·¯ãå°éã ãããšãããããããé£ã¹ãæšããšããŠç¥ãããããã«ãªã£ãã
ããã®æšã¯æé·ãæ©ããããäžè¬çã«æšæã¯åŒ±ããšæãããŠã ããããã§ã2015幎ãåœæ建ç¯åŠç§ã®å€§åŠé¢çã ã£ããžã§ãŒã€ã»ãŽã¡ã¬ ã³ãã£ã¯ããªãšã³æš¹æšåã®é€äŒãããžã§ã¯ãã§äŒæ¡ãããé«ãçŽ150ã ã£ãŒãã®ã¢ã«ããžã¢ã®å·šæšãèŠãŠåããããŽã¡ã¬ã³ãã£ã¯æ§é ãšã³ãžã ã¢ã®ååãåŸãŠããã®æšãäžè¬çãªæšæã§ãããã°ã©ã¹ã»ãã¡ãŒãšåç ã®åŒ·åºŠãæã€ããšãçªãæ¢ããããã®æšã䜿ã£ã建ç¯ãå¯èœã§ããããš ã蚌æããããšããã
ãã®éçšã§åœŒã¯ãã¯ãã¢ã¯ã«ããæšå·¥æã®å·šå ãšãªãã¯ã»ããã 蚪ããããã®æåã®ããŒãã£ã³ã°ã§ã圌ã¯ããã®åŸãã«ããã®æšã®ãµãŒ ãããŒããèŠã€ããããããã ããšæã£ãããšãŽã¡ã¬ã³ãã£ã¯èšãããããã äœå¹Žãã®éã圌ã®é¢å¿ã¯å»ºç¯åŠã®è«æãããžã§ã¯ãã«æ³šãããŠãããã ãã®å©ããåããŠã圌ã¯å»ºç¯ææãšããŠã®ããã®æšã®ã³ã³ã»ããã蚌æ ããããªã«ãã®å¶äœã«åãããã£ãã2018幎ã«ã¯ã€ããã»ã·ã§ã«ã«äŒŒã㢠ãŒãåã®æšé æ§é ç©ãå®æãããã¯ã€å€§åŠããã¢æ ¡ã®ååºã«å±ç€ºãã ããšããŽã¡ã¬ã³ãã£ã®äœåã«å¯ŸããéèŠã¯ããã«é«ãŸã£ããã¯ãŒãã«ãã ãã¿ãŽãã¢ã¹ãã¢ãããªã³ã¹ãŽã£ã«ã«ãããã¡ããã«ã®ãããªç¥å床㮠é«ãã¯ã©ã€ã¢ã³ãããããã®æšã®ãšã¬ã¡ã³ãããã¶ã€ã³ããããã«åœŒã æåããã®ã ãããããŠãããææããããµãŒãããŒãã®ã¢ã€ãã¢ãå¯ãã« çä»ãå§ãããã ããšåœŒã¯èšãã
88
WELLNESS
Bizia Surfã¯å°å
ãã¯ã€ã®ã·ã§ã€ããŒãšææºãã䟵ç¥çãªããã®æšã® æšããäœãããããŒãã®ã©ã€ã³ããããå¢ãããŠããã
89
Bizia Surf partners with local shapers to produce its growing lineup of boards made from invasive albizia trees.
Ward and 1 Hotel in Princeville tapped him to design albizia elements for their properties. âAnd then, at some point,â he says, âI just started chipping away at the surfboard idea on the side, very covertly.â
For the next four years, he developed prototypes for surfboards made entirely out of albizia and, in 2021, won a $250,000 USDA Wood Innovations Grant to build the boards. In 2023, he debuted the boards in a storefront in WahiawÄ across from Belloâs mill. At the hybrid coffee shop and surf store, the various surfboard models line the walls like artwork.
The wood is scavenged from around the island when utility companies, land owners, and community members are looking to clear out albizia. Valenti calls it a âresource misplaced.â And while he uses a high-tech process at Belloâs shop to manufacture the surfboards, the philosophy underlying them is an old one. Native Hawaiians made the first surfboards out of koa and other local wood. âObviously they figured out the properties of the different woods, what worked bestâ buoyancy and all that,â Valenti says.
Then in the late â20s and through the â30s, as the sport spread beyond the islands, surfers experimented with hollowing out the solid wood boards. These laid the groundwork for the chambered designs that famed shaper Dick Brewer would popularize in the â60s and â70s. That albizia board that Valenti first saw in Belloâs shop? It was modeled after a Dick Brewer gun. But while guns are typically heavier and made for massive waves, Biziaâs other, more everyday models are much lighter and crafted from hollowed-out lengths of albizia, making them strong yet nimble and versatile. Valenti partners with Carson Myers, Chris Miyashiro, and other local Hawaiâi shapers to produce Biziaâs growing lineup of boards, which includes a tow board and twin fin fish along with traditional Hawaiian paipo and alaia boards.
Bizia Surf presents an alternative to the toxic processes that have dominated the surf industry since the 1950s, when polyurethane boards became the normâfavored by shapers because they were quicker and cheaper to make. Other similarly toxic materials, like epoxy and fiberglass, soon saturated the market. âThe world today is all messed up in terms of where
ãã®åŸ4幎éã圌ã¯ããã®æšã®ã¿ã§äœããããµãŒãããŒãã®ãã ãã¿ã€ããéçºãã2021幎ã«ã¯25äžãã«ã®ç±³åœèŸ²åçæšæã€ãã㌠ã·ã§ã³å©æéãç²åŸããŠããŒãã補äœããã2023幎ã圌ã¯ããã®å·¥å Ž ã®åããã«ãªãŒãã³ããåºèã§ããŒããããã¥ãŒããããã³ãŒããŒã·ã§ ãããšãµãŒãã·ã§ããã®ãã€ããªããåºèã§ã¯ãããŸããŸãªãµãŒãããŒã ã¢ãã«ãã¢âãäœåã®ããã«å£ã«äžŠãã§ããã
ãã®æšæã¯ãé»åäŒç€Ÿãåå°ææè
ãå°åäœæ°ãããã®æšã®äŒ æ¡ãè¡ãéã«ã島ã®ãã¡ãã¡ããéãããããã®ã ããŽã¡ã¬ã³ãã£ã¯ãã® æšæã "眮ãå¿ããããè³æº"ãšåŒãã§ããããŽã¡ã¬ã³ãã£ã¯ããã®ã·ã§ ããã§ãã€ãã¯ãé§äœ¿ããŠãµãŒãããŒãã補é ããŠãããããã®æ ¹åºã« ããå²åŠã¯å€ããã®ã ããã¯ã€ã®å
äœæ°ã¯ãã³ã¢ãä»ã®å°å
ã®æšæ㧠æåã®ãµãŒãããŒããäœã£ããã圌ãã¯æããã«ãããŸããŸãªæšæã®ç¹æ§ ããäœãæãå¹æçããæµ®åããã®ä»ããããã解æããã®ã§ãããšãŽã¡ ã¬ã³ãã£ã¯èšãã
ãããŠ20幎代åŸåãã30幎代ã«ãããŠããã®ã¹ããŒãã島ãè¶ ããŠåºãŸãã«ã€ããŠããµãŒãã¡ãŒãã¡ã¯ãœãªãããŠããã®ããŒããããæ ãå®éšãè¡ã£ãããããã¯ãæåãªã·ã§ã€ããŒã®ãã£ãã¯ã»ããªã¥ã¯ãŒã 60幎代ãã70幎代ã«ãããŠæ®åãããããšã«ãªããã£ã³ããŒãã¶ã€ ã³ã®åºç€ãç¯ããããŽã¡ã¬ã³ãã£ãããã®ã·ã§ããã§åããŠèŠãããã® æšã®ããŒããããã¯ãã£ãã¯ã»ããªã¥ã¯ãŒã®éãã¢ãã«ã ã£ãããããã äžè¬çã«éã¯éãã巚倧ãªæ³¢ã®ããã«äœãããããããžã¢ã®ä»ã®æ¥åžž çãªã¢ãã«ã¯ã¯ããã«è»œããããã®æšã®é·ããããã¬ããŠäœãããŠãã ãããäžå€«ã§ãããªãã軜快ã§å€çšéã«äœ¿ããããŽã¡ã¬ã³ãã£ã¯ãã«ãŒãœ ã³ã»ãã€ã€ãŒãºãã¯ãªã¹ã»ãã€ã·ãããã®ä»ãã¯ã€ã®ããŒã«ã«ã·ã§ã€ããŒãš ããŒãããŒãçµã¿ãããŠããŒãããã€ã³ãã£ã³ãäŒçµ±çãªãã€ãã£ãã㯠ã€ã¢ã³ã®ãã€ããã¢ã©ã€ã¢ããŒããªã©ãBiziaã®ããŒãã®ã©ã€ã³ãããã å¢ãããŠããã
ããžã¢ã»ãµãŒãã¯ãããªãŠã¬ã¿ã³è£œããŒããäž»æµãšãªã£ã1950幎 代以éããµãŒãæ¥çãæ¯é
ããŠããææ¯ãªè£œæ³ã«ä»£ããéžæè¢ãæ瀺 ããŠããããšããã·ãã°ã©ã¹ãã¡ã€ããŒã®ãããªææ¯ãªçŽ æã¯ããã㊠åžå Žã飜åãããããä»æ¥ã®äžçã¯ãåææã®ç£å°ããµãã©ã€ãã§ãŒã³ ããã¡ããã¡ãã§ããç§ãã¡ãããããããã¡ãŒãžã¯éåžžã«å€§ããããšãŽ ã¡ã¬ã³ãã£ã¯èšãã
90
WELLNESS
ããã®æšã®é·ããããã¬ããŠäœããããµãŒãããŒãã¯ã軜éã§ãããªã ã匷床ãé«ããçŸãããšå€æ§æ§ããããŠããã©ãŒãã³ã¹ãå
Œãåããã ã¶ã€ã³ãšãªã£ãŠããã
91
Crafted from hollowed-out lengths of albizia, Biziaâs surfboards are designed to be lightweight yet strong, offering a mix of beauty, versatility, and performance.
The company sources albizia from around the island, diverting wood that would otherwise have been destined for the dump.
å瀟ã¯å³¶å
åå°ããã¢ã«ããž ã¢ã調éããæ¬æ¥ãªããŽãæš ãŠå Žè¡ãã«ãªã£ãŠããæšæã åå©çšããŠãã
materials come from and our supply chains,â Valenti says. âThereâs so much damage that weâve done.â
Despite surfingâs overtones of environmental sustainability, itâs an issue that the industry is still learning to contend with. âWeâve gone completely away from sustainability,â Valenti says. âSo having some avenues to go back in the direction of traditional surfing and still have the performanceâto me, thatâs the most compelling part of it all.â
ãµãŒãã£ã³ã¯ç°å¢ã®æç¶å¯èœæ§ãšããæå³åããæã€ãããã®å é¡ã¯ãµãŒãã£ã³ããŸã åŠãã§ããæäžã§ããããç§ãã¡ã¯æç¶å¯èœæ§ã ãå®å
šã«é ããã£ãŠããŸã£ãããšãŽã¡ã¬ã³ãã£ã¯èšãããã ãããäŒçµ±ç㪠ãµãŒãã£ã³ã®æ¹åã«æ»ããªãããããã©äŒçµ±çãªãµãŒãã£ã³ã®ããæ¹ãž ãšæ»ãã€ã€ãããã©ãŒãã³ã¹æ§ãç¶æããã
94
WELLNESS
Where Endless Discoveries Await
Combining island favorites and urban conveniences, our vibrant Honolulu neighborhood is yours to discover. Savor globally inspired flavors, shop-one-of-kind boutiques, and reconnect with nature amidst open green spaces. At Ward Village, youâre invited to experience the best parts of life in one dynamic destination.
ååœãã¯ã€ãªãã§ã¯ã®é
åãšã·ãã£ãªãã³ã°ã®å©äŸ¿æ§ãèŠäºã«èãåããã€ãããã¯ãªã³ãã¥ããã£ãã¯ãŒããã¬ããžã§ã¯ã 人çãè±ãã«æŒåºããæ°éããªãçºèŠãåŸ
ã£ãŠããŸãããã©ãšãã£è±å¯ãªã¬ã¹ãã©ã³ã§ãã¡ãŒã çŽéã®æ°é®®é£æã䜿ã£ã ã°ããŒãã«ãªæçãå ªèœãããããããããªããã£ãã¯ã§å¿èºããããŠããŒã¯ãªã°ããºãèŠã€ããããåºã
ãšãã
ç·ããµããå
¬åã§ãã£ããèªç¶ã«çããããããããªçŽ æŽãããã²ãšãšããããã²ããªããäœéšããŠãã ããã
explorewardvillagehawaii.com
A Howard Hughes Master Planned Community
IMAGE BY MARK KUSHIMI
DESIGN
DESIGN
IMAGES BY MARK KUSHIMI
STYLED BY JADE ALEXIS
MODELED BY MISTY MAâA & RACHEL PREDOVICH
HAIR + MAKEUP BY RISA HOSHINO
CREATIVE DIRECTION BY TAYLOR KONDO & KAITLYN LEDZIAN
PHOTO ASSISTANCE BY KALI ALEXANDER
STYLING ASSISTANCE BY ASIA COLLIER
åçïŒããŒã¯ã»ã¯ã·ã ã¹ã¿ã€ãªã³ã°ïŒãžã§ã€ãã» ã¢ã¬ã¯ã·ã¹ ã¢ãã«ïŒãã¹ãã£ã»ãã¢ã¢ã ã¬ã€ãã§ã«ã»ãã¬ãããã ãã¢ïŒã¡ã€ã¯ïŒãªãµã»ãã·ã ã¯ãªãšã€ãã£ããã£ã¬ã¯ã·ã§ã³ïŒ ãã€ã©ãŒã»ã³ã³ããŠãã±ã€ããªã³ã» ã¬ãããžãŒã¢ã³ æ®åœ±ååïŒã«ãªã»ã¢ã¬ããµã³ã㌠ã¹ã¿ã€ãªã³ã°ã»ã¢ã·ã¹ã¿ã³ãïŒ ã¢ãžã¢ã»ã³ãªã¢ãŒ
A BEAUTIFUL MIND
çŸããå¿
Inspiration runs wild on the elegant grounds of La Pietra, where ethereal fashions and bookish pursuits conjure an air of charm and whimsy.
ã©ã»ããšãã©ã®ãšã¬ã¬ã³ããªæ·å°å
ã§ã¯ãã€ã³ã¹ãã¬ãŒã·ã§ã³ã å¥æŸã«é§ãå·¡ãããšã¹ããªã®å¹ãããã¡ãã·ã§ã³ãšæ¬å¥œãã®æ¢ æ±å¿ãé
åãšæ°ãŸãããéžãåºããŠããã
98
Badgley Mischka dress from Neiman Marcus. Earrings from Hirajuke, hair pins from Jennifer Behr.
On Misty, previous spreads: Dress by Zimmerman. Earrings by Oscar de la Renta.
DESIGN
Dress by Max Mara.
Top from Alice + Olivia.
103
Take a Bow earrings from Heavenly. Shoes from Larroudé.
Dress by Zimmermann. Iva pearl drop earrings from Love Me Knots. Eyeglasses, vintage.
Top by Brunello Cucinelli, denim by Zimmermann.
On Rachel, above: Delpha ruffle lace blouson sleeve cropped top and Iyanna lace maxi skirt from Alice + Olivia.
107
On Misty, left: Dress by Alice + Olivia. Earrings from Wolf & Badger, rings by Konstantino.
108
On Misty, above: Jacket top and shorts by HermÚs. Bracelet stack from Love Me Knots.
On Rachel, right: Top by Zimmermann. Hat from Lack of Color, belt from Language of the Birds. Earrings from Sydney Evan. Straw bag, local flea market.
BY
IMAGE
JOSIAH PATTERSON
EXPLORE
TEXT BY ANNABELLE LE JEUNE
IMAGES BY JOSIAH PATTERSON
æïŒã¢ããã«ã»ã«ã»ãžã¥ã³ åçïŒãžã§ãµã€ã¢ã»ãã¿ãŒãœã³
æç¶å¯èœæ§ã®çš®ãŸã
For some of Hawaiâiâs rare native plants, seed banks are their last fighting chance against extinction.
Hawaiâi contains 44 percent of the countryâs endangered and threatened flora.
ãã¯ã€ã«ã¯çµ¶æ»
å±æ§çš®ã 絶æ»
ã®å±æ©ã«çããŠãã æ€ç©ã®44ããŒã»ã³ãã çæ¯ããŠããã
Some 1,400 native plant species call this archipelago home, evolving across millennia to adapt to the islandsâ distinct ecology. But the same conditions that created Hawaiâiâs unique ecosystems also leave them vulnerable. Today, Hawaiâi contains 44 percent of the countryâs endangered and threatened flora. Because its native plants evolved in relative isolation, they have few natural defenses against outside threats. Invasive species, along with the impacts of climate change, habitat destruction, and human interference, have contributed to a rapid decline of native species throughout the archipelago, earning Hawaiâi the nickname âthe extinction capital of the world.â More than 100 native plants have already gone extinct. About 27 are pronounced extinct in the wild, existing only in conservation centers and nurseries.
1,400çš®ãã®åšæ¥æ€ç©ããã¯ã€è«žå³¶ãæ
é·ãšããæ°å幎ã®éã«ãã¯ã€ 諞島ç¹æã®çæ
ç³»ã«é©å¿ããããã«é²åããŠããããããããã¯ã€ç¬èª ã®çæ
ç³»ãäœãåºããã®ãšåãæ¡ä»¶ããããããè匱ãªãã®ã«ããŠã ããçŸåšããã¯ã€ã«ã¯çµ¶æ»
å±æ§çš®ã絶æ»
ã®å±æ©ã«çããŠããæ€ç©ã®44 ããŒã»ã³ããçæ¯ããŠããããã¯ã€åºæã®æ€ç©ã¯æ¯èŒçéé¢ãããå Ž æã§é²åããŠãããããå€éšããã®è
åšã«å¯Ÿããèªç¶ãªé²åŸ¡çã¯ã»ãš ãã©ãªããæ°åå€åãçæ¯å°ã®ç Žå£ã人éã®å¹²æžãªã©ã®åœ±é¿ã«å ããå€ æ¥çš®ã«ãã£ãŠãã¯ã€è«žå³¶ã®åšæ¥çš®ã¯æ¥éã«æžå°ãããã¯ã€ã¯ "äžç㮠絶æ»
ã®éŠéœ "ãšåŒã°ããŠããããã§ã«100皮以äžã®åšæ¥æ€ç©ã絶æ»
ã ãããã®ãã¡27çš®ã¯éçã§ã¯çµ¶æ»
ã確èªãããä¿è·ã»ã³ã¿ãŒãèåºã§ ããèŠãããšãã§ããªãã
ãã¯ã€ã®åžå°ãªåšæ¥æ€ç©ã«ãšã£ãŠãã·ãŒããã³ã¯ã¯çµ¶æ»
ãé²ãæåŸã®æ段ã§ããã
113 EXPLORE
SEEDING SUSTAINABILITY
For some plants, their last chance at survival rests in seed banks, where they are stored in climatecontrolled repositories with the hope that they can one day be replanted in the wild. Located in MÄnoa valley, the Lyon Arboretum seed conservation laboratory is Hawaiâiâs largest and leading seed bank. It houses over 31 million seeds representing approximately 580 native plant species, more than 300 of which are considered threatened or endangered. It operates under the Harold L. Lyon Arboretum, a 200-acre botanical garden founded in 1918 and managed by the University of Hawaiâi at MÄnoa.
In 1992, the arboretum launched the Hawaiâi Rare Plant Program (HRPP), which established the seed conservation laboratory and its adjoining micropropagation lab and rare plant greenhouse. Under the guidance of UH MÄnoa and in partnership with government and nonprofit agencies, the seed lab provides long-term storage and research to preserve the genetic diversity of the plants in its care, a necessary marker of resilience against invasive species encroaching on their habitats.
The seeds are collected by state organizations and other partners and sent to the lab, where they are germinated and observed for viability. The germination process is crucial, particularly for rarer species, as their lower inventory leaves little room for experimentation. Fortunately, the future is promising for the majority of native plants housed in the lab. Nearly 72 percent are âorthodoxâ seeds able to withstand the extreme levels of drying and freezing necessary for long-term storage, making them ideal for successful preservation. Some seeds, however, are too fragile for such conditions. âIntermediateâ and ârecalcitrantâ seeds require more intricate refrigeration methods and can only be stored short-term or, in some cases, not at all. The seed lab is in the early stages of developing a cryopreservation method to house the seeds long term, but for now, they are sent to the micropropagation lab for temporary storage. Carefully cultivated seedlings are then sent out to rare plant nurseries, and from there, they are replanted at restoration sites throughout the state. Each year, thousands of plants are transported to the wild. Transitioning plants back to their natural habitats, though, presents its own challenges. Improperly prepared or inaccessible habitats, unnatural weather patterns, and inadequate manpower are all external
æ€ç©ã«ãã£ãŠã¯ãçåã®æåŸã®ãã£ã³ã¹ãã·ãŒããã³ã¯ã«èšãã ãŠãããã®ããããããã¢æžè°·ã«ãããªãšã³æ€ç©åçš®åä¿åç 究æã¯ã ãã¯ã€æ倧ãã€ææ°ã®çš®åãã³ã¯ã ãçŽ580çš®ã®åšæ¥æ€ç©ã®çš®åã 3100äžç²ä»¥äžä¿ç®¡ããŠããããã®ãã¡300皮以äžã絶æ»
ã®å±æ©ã«ç ããŠããã1918幎ã«èšç«ããããã¯ã€å€§åŠããã¢æ ¡ã管çãã200ãš ãŒã«ãŒã®æ€ç©åãããã«ãã»Lã»ãªãªã³æ€ç©åã®äžã§éå¶ãããŠããã
1992幎ãåæ€ç©åã¯ãã¯ã€åžå°æ€ç©ããã°ã©ã ïŒHRPPïŒãçºè¶³ ãããçš®åä¿åç 究æãšé£æ¥ãããã¯ãå¢æ®ç 究æãåžå°æ€ç©æž©å®€ã èšç«ãããUHããã¢ã®æå°ã®äžãæ¿åºæ©é¢ãéå¶å©å£äœãšã®ååã«ã ããçš®åã©ãã¯é·æä¿åãšç 究ãè¡ããä¿è·ãããŠããæ€ç©ã®éºäŒç å€æ§æ§ãç¶æããŠããã
çš®åã¯å·ã®æ©é¢ããã®ä»ã®ããŒãããŒã«ãã£ãŠéããããã©ãã« éãããããã§çºèœãããããçåå¯èœãã©ãã芳å¯ããããç¹ã«åžå° çš®ã«ã€ããŠã¯ããã®åžå°æ§ããå®éšã®äœå°ãå°ãªããããçºèœã®ããã» ã¹ã¯æ¥µããŠéèŠã§ããã幞ããªããšã«ãã©ãã«å容ãããŠããåšæ¥æ€ç© ã®å€§åã¯å°æ¥ææã§ããã72ïŒ
è¿ããé·æä¿åã«å¿
èŠãªæ¥µåºŠã®ä¹Ÿç¥
ãåçµã«èããããããªãŒãœããã¯ã¹ãªãçš®åã§ãããä¿åãæåããã ã«ã¯çæ³çã§ããããããããã®ãããªæ¡ä»¶äžã§ã¯ãããããçš®åãã ãããäžçŽãããäžå¿æ§ãã®çš®åã¯ãããè€éãªå·èµæ¹æ³ãå¿
èŠãšããçæ éããä¿åã§ããªãããå Žåã«ãã£ãŠã¯ãŸã£ããä¿åã§ããªããçš®åç 究æã§ã¯ãçš®åãé·æä¿åããããã®å·åä¿åæ³ãéçºããåæ段é ã«ããããä»ã®ãšãããçš®åã¯äžæä¿åã®ããã«ãã€ã¯ããããã²ãŒã· ã§ã³ç 究æã«éããããæ
éã«æ œå¹ãããèæšã¯åžå°æ€ç©ã®èåºã«é ãããããããå·å
ã®åŸ©å
å°ã«æ€ãæ¿ãããããæ¯å¹Žãäœåãã®æ€ç©ã éçã«éã°ãããããããæ€ç©ãèªç¶ã®çæ¯å°ã«æ»ãã«ã¯ããããªãã® å°é£ã䌎ããäžé©åã«æºåãããçæ¯å°ãã¢ã¯ã»ã¹ã§ããªãçæ¯å°ã äžèªç¶ãªå€©åãã¿ãŒã³ãäžååãªäººæãªã©ã¯ãã¹ãŠãçš®åã©ããåºãåŸ ã®èã®çè²ã劚ããå€çèŠå ã§ããã
114
EXPLORE
Some 1,400 native plant species call this archipelago home, nearly 90 percent of which are found nowhere else in the world.
çŽ1,400çš®ã®åšæ¥æ€ç©ããã®çŸ€å³¶ãæ
é·ãšããŠããããã®90ïŒ
è¿ã㯠äžçã®ã©ãã«ãçæ¯ããŠããªãããã®90ïŒ
è¿ãã¯äžçã®ã©ãã«ãçæ¯ ããŠããªãã
115
Located in MÄnoa valley, the Lyon Arboretum seed conservation laboratory is Hawaiâiâs largest seed bank.
ããã¢æžè°·ã«ãããªãšã³æ€ç© åçš®åä¿åç 究æã¯ããã¯ã€ æ倧ã®çš®åãã³ã¯ã§ãã
factors that hinder seedlings from thriving once they leave the seed lab.
Still, conservation efforts proceed in earnest from mauka to makai (from the mountains to the ocean), where the seed lab is helping the small yet mighty seedlings reclaim their wilds.
COASTAL MESIC FORESTS
Here, native plants mingle with sand, driftwood, and other coastal sediment swept inland by winds and salt spray. Skirting the slopes of the islands and stretching from sea level to over 1,000 feet, coastal mesic forests receive an even amount of rainfall and sunlight.
Naupaka kahakai (Scaevola taccada) is an indigenous shrub found along the coastline, notable for its hardy leaves and white half-blossoms. It provides a nesting habitat for seabirds and the Hawaiian yellowfaced bee, its main pollinator. One moâolelo (legend) tells of the star-crossed lovers Naupaka and Kaui:
ããã§ãä¿è·æŽ»åã¯ããŠã«ãããã«ã€ïŒå±±ããæµ·ãžïŒãžãšæ¬æ Œç ã«é²ããããŠãããã·ãŒãã»ã©ãã¯å°ãããšãå匷ãèæšãåçæãå ãæ»ãæå©ããããŠããã
海岞äžå±±éæ
ããã§ã¯ãèªçæ€ç©ãç ãæµæšãªã©ã颚ãå¡©æ°ŽåŽé§ã«ãã£ãŠå
éžã«æŒ ãæµããã沿岞ã®å ç©ç©ãšæ··ããåã£ãŠãããæµ·æ1,000ãã£ãŒããã 1,000ãã£ãŒã以äžã®é«ããŸã§ã島ã®æé¢ãçž«ãããã«åºãã海岞äžå±± éæã¯ãééšéãšæ¥ç
§éãåçã ã
ããŠãã«Â·ã«ãã«ã€ïŒScaevola taccadaïŒã¯æµ·å²žç·æ²¿ãã«èŠãã ãåºæã®äœæšã§ãäžå€«ãªèãšçœãå茪ã®è±ãç¹åŸŽçã ãããŠãã«Â·ã«ã ã«ã€ã¯æµ·é³¥ã®å¶å·£å°ãšãªããäž»ãªåç²åªä»è
ã§ãããã¯ã€ã¢ã³Â·ã€ãšã ãŒãã§ã€ã¹Â·ãããããçæ¯ããŠãããäºäººã®æã«å«åŠ¬ããç«ã®å¥³ç¥ãã¬
EXPLORE 116
The seed lab also banks common species, including coastal flora such as naupaka kahakai and pÅhinahina, to gain valuable insight on the threatened and endangered species in its care.
çš®åã©ãã§ã¯ãããŠãã«ã»ã«ãã«ã€ãããããããªã©ã®æ²¿å²žæ€ç©ãå«ã äžè¬çãªçš®ããã³ã¯ããä¿è·ãããŠãã絶æ»
å±æ§çš®ã«é¢ãã貎éãªç¥ èŠãåŸãããšãã§ããã
117
Jealous of their love, the fire goddess Pele banished one to the ocean and the other to the mountains, creating two varieties: naupaka kahakai (seaside) and naupaka mauka (inland). Another coastal species is pÅhinahina (Vitex rotundifolia). The sprawling beach creeper has rounded, sage-like leaves and fragrant bell-shaped flowers that make it popular for lei making. It is also used in lÄâau lapaâau, or traditional plant medicinal practices, to remedy ailments like skin irritations and back pain.
MIXED MESIC FORESTS
Hawaiâiâs mixed mesic forests are home to a wide diversity of plant life, ranging from ferns and shrubs to tall, canopying trees. Mixed mesic forests range from 1,000 feet to 5,000 feet in elevation and are neither wet nor dry, typically receiving a balanced amount of rainfall. Among the largest of these native trees is koa (Acacia koa), reaching up to 115 feet in height. Their long trunks and natural occurring oils make them a favored hardwood for carving. Only a fraction of the islandsâ once-sprawling koa forests remain, as most were converted into sugar plantations and cattle ranches. Since their canopies provide a habitat for many native bird and insect species, their recovery is key to restoring native forests. Another species, âÅhiâa lehua (Metrosideros polymorpha), is a common native plant whose specific name, polymorpha, means âmany formsââ a reference to its wide-ranging colors and sizes, appearing as 2-foot shrubs or 50-foot trees. Traditional uses for Åhiâa are still in practice today: its hardwood is used for carving, its flowers and leaves for lei-making, and its bark and fruit as medicine. Though Åhiâa dominates Hawaiâiâs native forests, a fungus known as Rapid Åhiâa Death poses a threat to the population, killing some of the largest and oldest trees in a matter of days.
WET FORESTS
Wet forests span the windward lowlands and montane heights of larger islands and, on smaller islands, thrive along the mountain tops. Lush with year-round vegetation, they generally grow at elevations ranging from 1,500 feet to 7,000 feet and beyond, with an
ã¯ãäžäººãæµ·ã«ãããäžäººãå±±ã«è¿œæŸããããŠãã«Â·ã«ãã«ã€ïŒæµ·èŸºïŒãšã ãŠãã«Â·ããŠã«ïŒå
éžïŒã®2çš®é¡ãäœãåºãããããã²ãšã€ã®æ²¿å²žçš®ã¯ãã ãããïŒVitex rotundifoliaïŒã§ãããäžžã¿ã垯ã³ãã»ãŒãžã®ãããªè ãæã¡ãéŠãã®ãããã«åã®è±ãå²ãããããŸããäŒçµ±çãªæ€ç©çæ³ã§ ããã©ã¢ãŠÂ·ã©ãã¢ãŠïŒlÄÊ»au lapaÊ»auïŒã«ã䜿ãããèèããè
°çãªã©ã® ç
æ°ãæ¹åããã
ããã¯ã¹ã»ã¡ã·ãã¯ã»ãã©ã¬ã¹ã
ãã¯ã€ã®æ··äº€äžå±±éæã«ã¯ãã·ããäœæšããæš¹å ãæã€é«æšãŸã§ãå€ æ§ãªæ€ç©ãçæ¯ããŠããã混亀äžå±±éæã¯æšé«1,000ãã£ãŒããã 5,000ãã£ãŒãã®ç¯å²ã«ãããã»ãšãã©æ¹¿æœ€ã§ã也ç¥ã§ããªããé垞㯠ãã©ã³ã¹ã®ãšããééšéãããããããã®åçæš¹æšã®äžã§æã倧ãã ãã®ã¯ã³ã¢ïŒã¢ã«ã·ã¢ã»ã³ã¢ïŒã§ãé«ãã¯115ãã£ãŒãïŒçŽ9.5ã¡ãŒãã«ïŒã« ãéããããã®é·ãå¹¹ãšå€©ç¶ãªã€ã«ã®ãããã§ã圫å»çšã®åºèæš¹ãšã㊠奜ãŸããŠããããã®ã»ãšãã©ãç ç³ãã©ã³ããŒã·ã§ã³ãç§çæ¥ã«è»¢çšã ããããããã€ãŠã¯åºå€§ã ã£ã島ã®ã³ã¢æã¯ãããããããæ®ã£ãŠã㪠ããã³ã¢ã®æš¹å ã¯å€ãã®åšæ¥çš®ã®é³¥ãæè«ã®çæ¯å°ãšãªãããããã®å 埩ã¯åçæå埩ã®éµãšãªããããã²ãšã€ã®çš®ããªãã¢ã¬ãã¢ïŒMetrosideros polymorphaïŒã¯äžè¬çãªåšæ¥æ€ç©ã§ãããªã¢ã«ãã¡ïŒpolymorphaïŒãšããåºæåã¯ãããŸããŸãªåœ¢ããšããæå³ã§ãããåºèæš¹ã¯åœ«å» ã«ãè±ãšèã¯ã¬ã€äœãã«ãæš¹ç®ãšæå®ã¯è¬ãšããŠäœ¿ãããããã¯ã€ã®åç æãæ¯é
ãããªãã¢ã ããã©ãããã»ãªãã¢ã»ãã¹ãšåŒã°ããã«ããç¹æ® ãè
ããã倧ããå€ãæšã¯æ°æ¥ã§æ¯ããŠããŸãã
湿最æ
湿最æã¯ã倧ããªå³¶ã§ã¯é¢šäžã®äœå°ãšå±±å°ã®é«å°ã«åºãããå°ããªå³¶ ã§ã¯å±±ã®é äžæ²¿ãã«çè²ããŠããã幎éãéããŠéã
ãšããæ€ç©ãç ãèããäžè¬çã«æšé«1,500ãã£ãŒããã7,000ãã£ãŒã以äžã§çè² ãã幎éééšéã¯400ã€ã³ããè¶
ããããã¯ã€å¯äžã®åºæçš®ã®ã€ã·ã®æš ã§ããããŠã«ã¯ããã®ãããªæ¹¿ã£ãç°å¢ã奜ãã倧ããªæ圢ã®èãæ¥å·® ããéšããã®ãããšããããã¯ã€èªã§ãåããæå³ããããŠã«ãšåŒã°ãã ããã«ãªã£ããä»æ¥ã«è³ããŸã§ãããŠã«ã¯ãã¬ïŒäŒçµ±çãªå®¶å±ã建é ç©ïŒ
118
EXPLORE
Threats to keystone species in Hawaiâiâs mixed mesic forests are a concern for the many native species that rely on them.
ãã¯ã€ã®æ··äº€äžå±±éæã®èŠãšãªãçš®ãžã®è
åšã¯ãããã«äŸåããå€ã ã®åšæ¥çš®ã«ãšã£ãŠæžå¿µäºé
ã§ããã
119
Thriving along the mountain tops, Hawaiâiâs wet forests are home to indigenous species such as loulu and hÄhÄ.
å±±ã®é äžæ²¿ãã«åºãããã¯ã€ ã®æ¹¿æœ€æã«ã¯ãããŠã«ãã㌠ããŒãšãã£ãåºæçš®ãçæ¯ã ãŠããã
annual rainfall of over 400 inches. Loulu, Hawaiâiâs only endemic palm tree, favors these moist conditions. It earned the name loulu, Hawaiian for âumbrella,â for its large, fan-shaped fronds that provide shelter from the sun and rain. To this day, loulu is favored for thatching the roofs of hale, or traditional homes and structures, as well as for weaving hats and baskets. Increasing infestations of the coconut rhinoceros beetle has endangered louluâs in-situ populations, a threat that the Hawaiâi Rare Plant Program is working urgently to address. HÄhÄ (Cyanea angustifolia), the native plants in the bellflower family, is another wet forest species. Known for its clusters of hanging petals, its foliage was traditionally wrapped in tÄ« leaves and cooked in an imu (underground oven) or in times of food scarcity. HÄhÄ co-evolved with the long-billed native honeycreeper, one of its primary pollinators. Today many honeycreepers are extinct or endangered, posing a concern for the hÄhÄ plantâs future. At the seed lab, hÄhÄ and other culturally significant native plants find refugeâand hope for survival.
ã®å±æ ¹èºãããåžœåãç± ãç·šãã®ã«å¥œãŸããŠãããã³ã³ããã«ããã ã· ã®è延ãé²ã¿ãããŠã«ã®åçåäœæ°ã絶æ»
ã®å±æ©ã«çããŠãããããã ã¯ã€Â·ã¬ã¢ãã©ã³ã·ããã°ã©ã ã¯ãã®å¯Ÿçã«ç·æ¥ã«åãçµãã§ããããã ã§ãŠç§ã®åšæ¥æ€ç©ã§ããããŒããŒïŒCyanea angustifoliaïŒã湿å°æ ã®äžçš®ã ãåãäžãã£ãè±ã³ãã®æ¿ã§ç¥ããããã®æ€ç©ã®èã¯ãé£ç³§ é£ã®æ代ã«ã¯äŒçµ±çã«ãã£ãŒã®èã«å
ãŸããã€ã ïŒå°äžéïŒã§èª¿çãã ããããŒããŒïŒHÄhÄïŒã¯ãäž»èŠãªåç²åªä»è
ã®ã²ãšãã§ããåŽã®é·ãåš æ¥çš®ã®ããã¹ã€ãšå
±ã«é²åãããçŸåšãããããã®å€ãã¯çµ¶æ»
ãŸãã¯çµ¶ æ»
ã®å±æ©ã«çããŠãããããŒããŒã®å°æ¥ãå¿é
ãããŠãããã·ãŒã·ã©ã ã§ã¯ãããŒããŒããã®ä»ã®æåçã«éèŠãªåšæ¥æ€ç©ãé¿é£æãèŠ ã€ããçãæ®ãåžæãèŠåºããŠããã
120
EXPLORE
TEXT BY RAE SOJOT
IMAGES BY JOHN HOOK & MICHELLE MISHINA STYLED BY
TAYLOR KONDO
æïŒã¬ã€ã»ãœãžã§ãã åçïŒãžã§ã³ã»ããã¯ã ãã·ã§ã«ã»ãã·ã ã¹ã¿ã€ãªã³ã°ïŒãã€ã©ãŒã» ã³ã³ããŠ
CHASING LIGHT
å
ãè¿œããããŠ
In the mesmerizing world of photographer Michelle Mishina, visions of her island home captivate and enchant.
åç家ãã·ã§ã«ã»ãã·ãããããšãããé
æçãªäžçã§ã¯ã圌女ã®æ
é·ãã¯ã€ã«é
ãããã å¿ã奪ãããŠããŸããŸãã
123 EXPLORE
As a young college student studying photography, Michelle Mishina hadnât truly contemplated the importance of light, focusing instead on color and composition. Then one day, a professor held class in a darkened room, pitch black until he struck a match. From the glow of the tiny flame, the room slowly began to take form. Allowing their eyes to adjust, the professor spoke: âWithout light, there is no photography. You need light to take a picture.â
It was a pivotal lesson for Mishina, one that continues to shape her approach two decades later. Today, light is an ineluctable draw for the Oâahu-based photographer, serving as a guide, a beacon, a foil, a frame. âIâm always investigating light,â says Mishina, who sees beauty in its fleeting nature. âLight comes and goes so quickly and is never the same twice. Knowing this is a good way to remain present.â In chasing light, sheâs able to find her shot.
åçãå°æ»ããè¥ãåŠçã ã£ãé ã®ãã·ã§ã«ã»ãã·ã ããã¯ãå
ã®éèŠæ§ãªã©èããããšããªãããããè²åœ© ãæ§å³ã®ããšã§é ããã£ã±ãã ã£ããã ããããæ¥ãã ææãçã£æãªæ宀ã§ææ¥ãè¡ãªã£ããææãããã
ã«ç«ãç¯ããŸã§æŒé»ã®æéã ã£ãæ宀ããå°ããªãã ãã®çã§å°ããã€ããã©ãããŠãããåŠçãã¡ã®ç®ã æ
£ããé ãææã¯èšã£ãããå
ããªããã°åçãªã©å åšããªããåçã«ã¯å
ãå¿
èŠãªãã ã
ãã®èšèã¯ãã·ãããã®èžã«æ·±ãå»ãŸããããã ã20幎ãã£ãä»ããåçã«å¯Ÿãã圌女ã®ã¢ãããŒãã® éªšæ ŒããªããŠãããä»æ¥ããã·ãããã«ãšã£ãŠå
ã¯æ¹ã ããã«ã¯ããããªããã®ã§ãæ®åœ±ã®éããã¹ã§ãããæ æšã§ããã察象ã®åŒãç«ãŠåœ¹ã§ããããã¬ãŒã ã§ãã ããããã€ãå
ãç 究ããŠããŸããå
ã®ã¯ããªãã«çŸã æãããšãããã·ãããããå
ã¯å»ã
ãšå€ãã£ãŠããã ã®ã§ãåãå
ã¯äºåºŠãšèŠãããšãã§ããŸããããããã ãã£ãŠããããããã®ç¬éã«éäžã§ãããã ãšæã㟠ããå
ãè¿œããããŠãããããã·ã£ãã¿ãŒãæŒãã¹ãç¬ éããããã®ã ã
124
EXPLORE
Michelle Mishina, photographer â
I think itâs rare for people to feel really seen or really listened to, and so I try to be present for them.â
ã誰ããèªåããã£ããèŠã€ããŠããã£ããè³ãåŸããŠããšæããããšã£ãŠæ®éã¯ããŸããªããšæãã®ã§ãã ããã¯å¯Ÿè±¡ãšãã£ããåãåãããã«å¿ãããŠããŸããïŒåç家ããã·ã§ã«ã»ãã·ã
125
Michelle Mishina wears Rachel Comey earrings and a Tri Pendant necklace from M33Ms. She is pictured on the previous spread wearing Dom trousers in Rouge from Acaciaâs Summer 2024 collection.
On any given day, Mishina takes at least a handful of photos, even just iPhone shots of random objects or momentsâthe delicate curl of a flower petal, the silhouette of a friend in a passageway. Such compulsion to chronicle is born from her innate curiosity and captivation with the people and places that catch her eye. Thereâs a sense of duty too: âI think things deserve to be recorded,â Mishina says. âMy motivation is to acknowledge and appreciate them for what they are.â
ãã·ãããã¯æ¯æ¥æ¬ ããããããšãã»ãã®æ°æã§ãåçã æ®ããäžæã®è±ã³ãã®ç¹çŽ°ãªæ²ç·ãå°éãæ©ãå人ã®ã· ã«ãšãããªã©ããªã«ããªãç¬éããªã«ããªã察象ãæ®éã® ã¢ã€ãã©ã³ã§æ®ãã ãã®ããšããããã€ãèšé²ã«æ®ããã㪠ããã®è¡åã¯ãçãŸãã€ãã®å¥œå¥å¿ãšãç®ãçãŸã£ã人ã ãã®ã«å¯Ÿããæåæ§ã®åŒ·ãããçãŸããŠãããããã«ã¯è²¬ ä»»æãæ··ãã£ãŠãããããã®ããšã«ã¯èšé²ãã䟡å€ããã ãšæããã§ãããã·ãããã¯èšã£ãããæ®åœ±å¯Ÿè±¡ã®ããã®ãŸ ãŸã®çŸãããæ®ããããŠããããã¯åçãæ®ã£ãŠããŸãã
126
Mishina was first exposed to photography through her father, who photographed their family with the many disposable cameras he kept scattered around their home. Eventually, she began bringing one along with her on evening dog walks to a lot overlooking Kealakekua Bay, where she would photograph the sunset. âThey were literally just sunset pictures with no context, nothingâjust sky,â she says. But they stirred something within her, inspiring her to hone the craft over the years.
ãã·ããããåçã«åºäŒã£ãã®ã¯ãç¶ããã®åœ±é¿ã ããç¶ ããã¯äœ¿ãæšãŠã«ã¡ã©ã§å®¶æã®åçãæ®ã£ãŠã¯ãã®ã«ã¡ ã©ã家ã®ãã¡ãã¡ã«çœ®ãã£ã±ãªãã«ããŠããããããŠãã· ããããå€æ¹ã®ç¬ã®æ£æ©ã®ãšãã«ããããã«ã¡ã©ãæã£ãŠ ããããã«ãªããã±ã¢ã©ã±ã¯ã¢æ¹ŸãèŠæž¡ã空ãå°ããå€æ¥ ã®åçãæ®ã£ãããæåã©ããå€çŒãã®åçã§ãèæ¯ãäœ ããªãããã 空ãåã£ãŠããã ãã§ããããšãã·ããããã ãããããªåçã«äœããããç«ãŠãããŠã圌女ã¯æ®åœ±æè¡ ã磚ãããã«ãªãã
Even now as a professional photographer, Mishina experiences the same feelings of excitement at capturing the world around her.
âThings are always changing, people are always changing, landscapes are always changing,â she says. âItâs really about simply being there.â
ãããšãªã£ãä»ã§ããèªåã®åšå²ã®äžçãã«ã¡ã©ã«åã ãç¬éã¯èžããšããããšãããã·ããããããã®ãã人ãã 颚æ¯ããäœãããã€ãã«å€ãã£ãŠãããã§ãããã®ç¬éã ããã«ããããšãåçãšã¯ã€ãŸãããã ãã®ããšãªãã ãš æããŸãã
Sometimes, when framing a subject or a scene, Mishina has a keen sense that she will be getting a good shot. âIn that moment you recognize that thereâs a confluence of factorsâlight, movement, compositionâand you know that thereâs something really special there,â she says.
æ®åœ±å¯Ÿè±¡ã®ãã®ã颚æ¯ã«ã¬ã³ãºãåããªãããããã·ã§ã ããæ®ãããšåŒ·ãæããããšãããããã ããå
ãåããæ§ å³ããã®ç¬éããã¹ãŠã®ãã¡ã¯ã¿ãŒãã²ãšã€ã«ãªã£ãŠãäœã ãããç¹å¥ãªæãããããã§ãã
131
Mishinaâs camera serves as a passport of sorts: âWhat I love about photography is the ability to go to places you wouldnât normally get to go to or talk to people you wouldnât normally get to talk to.â Mishina prizes this unique access, especially during portrait work, when subjects often feel the most vulnerable. âI think itâs rare for people to feel really seen or really listened to, and so I try to be present for them,â says Mishina, who makes a point of listening and asking questions to put her subjects at ease. âItâs less about the photo taken and more about forging a connection.â
ãã·ãããã«ãšã£ãŠãã«ã¡ã©ã¯ãã¹ããŒãã®ãããªåœ¹å²ãæ ãããŠããããåçã®ãããã§æ®æ®µã¯è¡ããªããããªå Žæ ã«è¡ããããæ®æ®µã¯è©±ããªããããªäººãšè©±ããã®ãããã ãšæã£ãŠãŸããåç家ãªãã§ã¯ã®ãã®ç¹æš©ããç¹ã«æ®åœ±ã® 察象ãç¡é²åãªæ°åã«ãªããã¡ãªããŒãã¬ã€ãæ®åœ±ã®ãš ãã«ãšãã«ãããããæããããã ãã誰ããèªåããã£ã ãèŠã€ããŠããã£ããè³ãåŸããŠããšæããããšã£ãŠæ®é㯠ããŸããªããšæãã®ã§ããããã¯å¯Ÿè±¡ãšãã£ããåãåã ããã«å¿ãããŠããŸããæ®åœ±ã®å¯Ÿè±¡ã®ç·åŒµãã»ãããã㪠質åãæãããã圌ãã®èšèã«ãã¡ããšè³ãåŸããããšã èã«éããŠããããåçãã®ãã®ãããã©ããŸã§æ·±ãçµãç¯ ããããéèŠãªãã§ãã
132
Mishina wears Acaciaâs Ralu top in Pikake from the brandâs Summer 2024 collection, along with earrings and rings from M33Ms.
Halekulani, the most internationally acclaimed of all Hawaiâi hotels, blends serenity and understated elegance with exceptional service to create an oasis of tranquility.
ãã¯ã€ã代衚ããããã«ã ãã¬ã¯ã©ãã¯ããªã¢ã·ã¹ã®ãã㪠å®ãããšäžè³ªãªãšã¬ã¬ã³ã¹ã äžæµã®ãµãŒãã¹ã§ã客æ§ã ãè¿ãããŠããŸãã
134
HALEKULANI GUIDE
Halekulaniâs beachfront location has welcomed people since 1883, when the original owner, Robert Lewers, built a two-story house on the site of what is now the main building.
ãã¬ã¯ã©ãã®å»ºã€ã¯ã€ããã®ããŒãããã³ãã¯ã1883幎ã«ãããŒãã»ã«ã¯ãŒãºæ°ãçŸåšã®ã¡ã€ã³ãã«ãã£ã³ã°ã®ããå Žæã«2é建ãŠã®å®¶ã建ãŠãŠä»¥æ¥ãå€ãã®äººã
ãè¿ããŠããŸããã
The fishermen of the area would bring their canoes onto the beach in front of the property to rest. So welcomed were they by the Lewers family that the locals named the location âhouse befitting heaven,â or Halekulani.
In 1917, Juliet and Clifford Kimball purchased the hotel, expanded it, and established it as a stylish resort for vacationers, giving it the name the locals originally bestowed on it, Halekulani. The hotel was sold following the passing of the Kimballs in 1962. Almost 20 years later, it was purchased by what is now the Honolulu-based Halekulani Corporation. The hotel was closed and rebuilt as the existing 453-room property.
Today, Halekulaniâs staff, location, and hospitality reflect the original Hawaiian welcome that defined the property.
ã«ã¯ãŒãºäžå®¶ããéžå®
åã®ããŒãã«ã«ããŒãåŒãæããŠäŒæ©ããã¯ã€ããã®æŒåž«ãã¡ãæè¿ ããããšãããå°å
ã®äººãã¡ã¯ãã®å Žæãã倩åœã«ãµãããã通ããšããæå³ã®ãã¬ã¯ã©ããšåŒ ã¶ããã«ãªããŸããã
1917幎ã«ãžã¥ãªãšããïŒã¯ãªãã©ãŒãã»ãã³ãã«å€«åŠ»ã«ãã£ãŠè³Œå
¥ãæ¡åŒµããããã®ããã«ã¯ã ãã«ã³ã¹æ
è¡è
ã®ããã®æŽç·ŽããããªãŸãŒããšããŠçãŸãå€ãããå°å
ã®äººãã¡ã«ãã£ãŠã€ã ãããããã¬ã¯ã©ãããšåœåãããŸããã1962幎ããã³ãã«å€«åŠ»ã®æ»å»ãæ©ã«å£²åŽããããã ã«ã¯ãã»ãŒ20幎åŸãçŸåšããã«ã«ã«æ ç¹ã®ãããã¬ã¯ã©ãã»ã³ãŒãã¬ãŒã·ã§ã³ã«ãã£ãŠè³Œå
¥ã ããäžæé通ãããšãæ¹ç¯å·¥äºãçµãŠãçŸåšã®453宀ãããã¬ã¯ã©ãã«çãŸãå€ãããŸããã ãã¬ã¯ã©ãã§ã¯ãæŽå²ããã¯ã€ããã®ããŒãããã³ãã§ãçŸåšãæãšå€ãããªããã¯ã€ ãªãã§ã¯ã®ãããŠãªãã®å¿ã§ãã¹ã¿ããäžåã客æ§ããè¿ãããããŸãã
136 HALEKULANI GUIDE
LEGACY ã¬ã¬ã·ãŒ
137
DINING
ãã€ãã³ã°
At Halekulaniâs WaikÄ«kÄ« restaurants, awardwinning chefs create signature dishes from Hawaiâiâs freshest ingredients.
ãã¬ã¯ã©ãã®ã¬ã¹ãã©ã³ã§ã¯ãæ°ã
ã®åè³æŽãèªãã·ã§ãã«ããããã¯ã€ã®æ°é®®ãªçŽ æã䜿ã£ããªãªãžãã«æçããçšæããŠããŸãã
Each of Halekulaniâs restaurants celebrates its own distinct style of cuisine, and all offer stunning views of the sea.
Select from La Mer for fine dining, Orchids for more casual elegance, and House Without A Key for a relaxed ambience.
Enjoy extraordinary cocktails reminiscent of Hawaiâiâs golden age of travel at Earlâs pool bar located in the iconic House Without A Key.
A culmination of art and science, Halekulani Bakery located across the street at Halepuna Waikiki features delectable artisan breads, a contemporary coffee bar with specialty coffees, pastry pairings, savory bites, and Halekulaniâs signature Coconut Cake.
ãã¬ã¯ã©ãã®ã¬ã¹ãã©ã³ã§ã¯ãçŸãããªãŒã·ã£ã³ãã¥ãŒãšãšãã«ãããããã«ç¹åŸŽã®ããå€åœ©ãª æçã®æ°ã
ãã楜ãã¿ããã ããŸãã
ãã¡ã€ã³ãã€ãã³ã°ã®ã© ã¡ãŒã«ãã«ãžã¥ã¢ã«ã§ãšã¬ã¬ã³ããªãªãŒãããºããããŠãªã©ãã¯ã¹ããé° å²æ°ã®ããŠã¹ ãŠã£ãºã¢ãŠã 㢠ããŒã§ã®ãé£äºãã楜ãã¿ãã ããã
æ
è¡ã®é»éæ代ã®ãã¯ã€ã圷圿ããã極äžã®ã«ã¯ãã«ãã楜ãã¿ãã ãããããŒã«ããŒã®ã¢ãŒ ã«ãºã¯åœããã«ã象城ããããŠã¹ã»ãŠã£ãºã¢ãŠãã»ã¢ã»ããŒå
ã«ããããŸãã
éããéãŠããã¬ããã»ã¯ã€ããã®ããã¬ã¯ã©ã ããŒã«ãªãŒãã¯ãã¢ãŒããšãµã€ãšã³ã¹ã®é倧æãš ãèšãã¹ãå Žæã§ããè·äººã®æã«ãã極äžã®ãã³ãã¹ãã·ã£ã«ãã£ã³ãŒããŒãæããã¢ãã³ãª ã³ãŒããŒããŒããã€ã¹ããªãŒãšã®çµã¿åããã颚å³è±ããªè»œé£ãããŠãã¬ã¯ã©ãç¹è£œã®ã³ã³ã ããã±ãŒããªã©æ§ã
ã«ã楜ãã¿ããã ããŸãã
138 HALEKULANI GUIDE
139
THE ART OF WELLBEING
ã¢ãŒãã»ãªãã»ãŠã§ã«ããŒã€ã³ã°
The
Art of Wellbeing is Halekulaniâs wellness concept representing an evolution of our acclaimed spa program, designed to expand intellect, incite wonder, and tap into emotions necessary for wellbeing.
ãã¢ãŒãã»ãªãã»ãŠã§ã«ããŒã€ã³ã°ãã¯ãç¥æ§ãåºããé©ããšæåãäžããå¥ãããªå¿ãšäœãžãšå°ãææ
ãåŒãåºãããã«ãã¬ã¯ã©ããæ²ãã幞ãã®ã³ã³ã»ããã§ãã
Encompassing our dedication to and deep respect for tradition, legacy, and the culture of Hawaiâi, this program is a collection of curated experiences that offer an integrated and refreshed approach to an elevated lifestyle, combining six key pillars: nourish, move, explore, renew, rest, and discover.
äŒçµ±ãã¬ã¬ã·ãŒããã¯ã€æåãžã®ãã ãããšæ·±ãæ¬æã蟌ãããã®ããã°ã©ã ã¯ãããäžè³ªã§ 圩ãè±ããªã©ã€ãã¹ã¿ã€ã«ãå®çŸããããã®ç·åçã§æ°ããã¢ãããŒãã§ããæ é€ãéåãæ¢ æ€ãåçãäŒæ¯ãçºèŠãšãã6ã€ã®ããŒã¯ãŒããããšã«ãã¥ã¬ãŒãããããŠã§ã«ããŒã³ã°ãåäž ããäœéšã®æ°ã
ãæäŸããŠããŸãã
140 HALEKULANI GUIDE
141
HALEKULANI OKINAWA
ãã¬ã¯ã©ãæ²çž
Located along the beautiful coastline of Onna Village in Okinawa, Halekulani Okinawa is an unrivaled resort that seamlessly combines the natural energy of this mystical paradise with the pinnacle of luxury.
æ²çžã»æ©çŽæã®çŸãã海蟺ã«éæ¥ãããã¬ã¯ã©ãæ²çžã¯ãã®ç¥ç§ã®æ¥œåã¢ã€ã©ã³ãããã€èªç¶ã®ãšãã«ã®ãŒãšãæé«å³°ã®ã©ã°ãžã¥ã¢ãªãŒãèåãããå¯ ç¡äºã®ãªãŸãŒãã§ãã
Halekulani Okinawa offers four signature restaurants and bars, ranging from gastronomic dining that serves cuttingedge cuisine to a poolside bar where you can casually enjoy delicious food.
Innovative âSHIROUXâ is helmed by Chef Hiroyasu Kawate, one of the leading chefs in the Japanese culinary scene, serving as a consulting chef. As the owner-chef of Michelin two-star restaurant FlorilÚge in Tokyo, which ranked 27th on the list of the Worldâs 50 Best Restaurants in 2023, Chef Kawate brings a culinary expertise that has captivated food enthusiasts worldwide. The dining experience at Innovative âSHIROUXâ continues to evolve through collaborations with local Okinawan producers.
æå
端ã®çŸé£ãå ªèœã§ããã¬ã¹ãããããŒãã€ãã³ã°ãããããŒã«ãµã€ãã§æ°è»œã«çŸå³ãå³ã ããããŒã«ããŒãŸã§ã4 ã€ã®ã·ã°ããã£ãŒã¬ã¹ãã©ã³ãšããŒãæããŸãã
ã€ãããŒãã£ãã SHIROUX / ã·ã«ãŒããã¯ãæ¥æ¬ã®çŸé£çãçœåŒããã·ã§ãã®ã²ãšãã§ããå·
æå¯åº·ãã³ã³ãµã«ãã£ã³ã°ã·ã§ããåããŸããæ±äº¬ã®ãã·ã¥ã©ã³2 ã€æã¬ã¹ãã©ã³ããããªã¬ãŒãž ã¥ãã®ãªãŒããŒã·ã§ãã§ããã2023幎ãäžçã®ãã¹ãã¬ã¹ãã©ã³50ãã«ãããŠ27 äœã«éžã°ãã
ãªã©ãäžçã®é£éãã¡ãé
äºããŠããå·ææ°ã®æçäžçããå°å
æ²çžã®çç£è
ãšã®ã³ã©ãã¬ãŒ
ã·ã§ã³ã«ããé²åããç¶ããŠãããã€ãã³ã°ã§ãã
142 HALEKULANI GUIDE
143
HALEKULANI FINE ARTS COLLECTION ãã¬ã¯ã©ãã»ãã¡ã€ã³ã»ã¢ãŒãã»ã³ã¬ã¯ã·ã§ã³
For an elevated art experience, explore a curated selection of works from local art legends and rising contemporary artists throughout the hotel.
ããã«å
ã®éæã«ãŠããã¯ã€ã®å·šå ã¢ãŒãã£ã¹ããæ°é²æ°éã®ã³ã³ãã³ãã©ãªãŒã¢ãŒãã£ã¹ãã«ããéžããããã®ã¢ãŒãäœåã®æ°ã
ããéè³ãã ããã
144 A HUI HOU IMAGE BY MARK KUSHIMI