X-Section 2016 - Divergence: Defining difference through design

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Xsection Journal Team 2016 www.xsectionjournal.com xsectionjournal@gmail.com Editor:

Pete Griffiths, Programme Leader and Senior Lecturer, Bachelor of Landscape Architecture

Design & Production: Bela Hinemoa Grimsdale & Te Kerekere Roycroft Peer Review Panel: Dr. Hamish Foote - Unitec Sibyl Bloomfield – Bloomfield and Bark Will Thresher – Thresher Associates Meg Back – Jasmax Heather Wilkins – Boffa Miskell Hugh Lusk – Landscape Architect Xsection Journal is published annually by the Department of Landscape Architecture, Unitec Institute of Technology. Advertising statements and editoral opinions expressed in Xsection Journal do not necessarily reflect the views of the Department of Landscape Archtecture and its staff, unless expressly stated. Copyright to all work included is retained by the authors. Copying or transmission of any part of this publication or the related files in any form, by any means (electronic, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) is restricted to educational use only, with appropriate referencing. No part of this document may be used without the prior written permission of the publisher.

© Copyright 2016 Xsection Journal Publisher: Unitec Institute of Technology, Architecture, Carrington Road, Mt Albert, Auckland ISSN 2230-6277 print edition ISSN 2230-6285 online edition Page Credits: Cover Image (front): Desna Whaanga-Schollum Cover Image (back): Bela Hinemoa Grimsdale Section Cover Images: Exploration: Jasmax Local industry: Boffa Miskell International: LandLAB_ Student: Bela Hinemoa Grimsdale Peer Review: PB&A (photographer: Patrick Reynolds) Endnote: Bela Hinemoa Grimsdale


HE WAKA EKE NOA We are all in this together







Phil Wihongi

Nicholas Dalton

Dr Diane Menzies






Carin Wilson Studio Pasifika

Rau Hoskins Te Hononga

Sara Zwart Jasmax

Tom Mansell & Rachel Griffiths Auckland Council

Jerome Partington Jasmax









Craig Pauling Boffa Miskell

Ethan Reid LandLAB_

Panel Boffa Miskell






Paul Herzich

Jake Chakasim

Alex Luiten & Hannah Valentine

Emily Bowerman

Jacqueline Paul





BLA Year 1

BLA Year 2

BLA Year 3

BLA Year 4





Dr Hamish Foote & Pete Griffiths

Dr Diane Menzies, Alayna Renata & Desna WhaangaSchollum

Mark Lowe

Dr Diane Menzies & Dr Rebecca Kiddle










he sixth edition of X-Section Journal explores the theme of Divergence: defining difference through design. This issue investigates the relationship between culture and landscape, and how indigenous sensibilities can be interpreted through design. How do Landscape Architects reconcile differences to make sense of the complex and stratified layers of place, people, history and culture? There is an intimate connection between culture and landscape and how that culture is valued for its difference. Indigenous identity and connection is inseparable from the land and all things natural. The importance of narratives shape indigenous landscapes, and for Māori provide a sense of belonging. These narratives are recalled through whakataukī, whaikōrero, waiata, tangata, and place names that maintain these links and reclaim them as part of traditional culture. Through exploring the narratives we can build a tapestry of layered meanings which develop a deeper context to improve, understand and enable us to design cultural landscapes. The narratives are remembered because they tell of protocols, practical and ethical ways to care for places and people. These form an intimate connection between people and the landscape. Landscapes are a focal point for traditional knowledge, and narrative is instrumental to carrying out and enacting that knowledge. Similar to the aho threads in weaving, lines are developed from cultural history. These strands are woven into something new that is steeped in tradition. Formed from the landscape, the threads are interwoven stories preserving history and culture. This issue gathers material and attempts to measure engagement with all things indigenous and showcases the work being done in New Zealand and by International practitioners, students, and academics. The diverse range of expressions and contributions to this year’s journal illustrates Divergence. As the population increases in New Zealand, there is now a post-colonial diverse cultural landscape: how does that manifest itself through Landscape Architecture? Is it at odds with indigeneity? Increasingly within the contemporary cultural landscape a diversity of cultures are represented. Divergence explores not only where we’ve come from but where we are heading… “ we are all in this together – regardless of who or where we come from – at the end of the day we all apply different sensibility to the values we carry and where they come from” (Jake Chakasim, p.47)




There are few acts that are, at their heart, more humanising and equalising than the sharing of food and drink.


he simple act of breaking bread together encourages a momentary sharing of time and space, which in itself creates opportunity for recognition and exchange set against the purpose that has called people together. For many cultures, this act may invoke elaborate ritual, bound in tradition and culture, rooted in and recognising place. It can mark the transition between states of being in the interaction between individuals and groups, a welcome into the heart. It can also be one of the ultimate expressions of love, poured into the creation of the food that is shared. It is at this point that we land. The primary thesis of this paper is to suggest that the humble cup of tea can provide us with a metaphorical means for talking across culturally bound and codified notions of design in a shared journey from New Zealand to Aotearoa. ARE WE HERE OR ARE WE THERE (OR ARE WE NOWHERE)? ‘We shall not be satisfied until this outlook includes our whole environment – the places where we work or play…. because we want this in New Zealand, overseas solutions will not do. New Zealand must have its own architecture, its own sense of what is beautiful and appropriate to our climate and conditions.’ On the necessity for architecture THE MANIFESTO OF THE ARCHITECTURAL GROUP (1946) This passage is taken from perhaps one of the most celebrated treatises on the need for a national design philosophy (albeit focussed squarely on architecture as ‘divine’ saviour). This bold assertion and questioning of belonging and place however remains firmly tied to the aesthetic sensibilities and expectations of the academic training these young architecture students were receiving in 1946.


Our design disciplines (landscape architecture, architecture and design) continue to draw heavily from the deep well of their western pedagogical foundations. This situation has resulted in a steady production of graduates with talent and/or technical proficiency, set firmly within the viewpoint and traditions of a dominant western culture and knowledge system. This is less critique than observation, and is not intended to undermine the value or importance of western knowledge systems and their whakapapa. Rather, the intent is to emphasise that this focus has come at a considerable cost in the recognition and development of a pātaka of mātauranga Māori relating to this field, and in the ‘production’ of qualified Māori design professionals. It is not uncharitable to suggest it is but a few notable designers who have been able to successfully trawl the currents that run through and between the two founding cultures of Aotearoa. These rare individuals have been able to identify and grasp the design potentials that the two cultures offer when brought together, and we honour their legacy. It is also not unfair to suggest that tertiary education design providers have historically struggled to consistently provide high quality and meaningful study opportunities founded in Te Ao Māori as part of their respective study programmes. Those institutes that have, have generally relied heavily upon specific staff members’ interest areas and goodwill for delivery of these ‘specialist’ courses rather than providing structured learning opportunities that staircase and reinforce Te Ao Māori knowledge across academic programmes. In these challenging climes, it has often been difficult for Māori (and Pasifika) to see ourselves in these courses, and therefore to assign value and relevance when we are faced with tertiary education choices. Consequently both of these groups (but particularly Māori) are poorly represented in design profession statistics. The paucity of meaningful research into the design and architectural traditions of our founding culture and how they might be brought into the light of day in the 21st century is also evident within the current body of academic research.



Architect David Mitchell has spoken in the past as to how through early contact and exchange Māori Architecture has borrowed from European Architecture, and that in turn New Zealand Architecture has borrowed from Māori and Pacific Architecture to give us an emerging architecture style, distinct from its Eurocentric origins. Mitchell is describing a developing hybrid knowledge unique to this place, a truer vision of the nationalistic design philosophy that the (pre-)Group Architects so brashly sought to establish in 1946.

In 1977 Dr Hirini Moko Mead wrote in the NZ Listener that “it is Māori culture and the special relationship between Māori and Pākehā, for so long the envy of the world, which provides the source for a distinctive New Zealand image”.

This certainly rings true when examined abstractly, however is difficult to see how this hybridity is made manifest in the design of our built environments. It seems at times that we have lost sight of our location in the South Pacific, and of the fact that we are firmly anchored at the beating heart of both Te Ao Māori and Pasifika (at least in terms of population). Development of this hybridity is incredibly difficult without purposefully curating a balancing of focus and the sharing of game time and opportunity for Te Ao Māori content within design programmes. Also required is a concerted and ongoing commitment to developing both capability and capacity of the Māori design community. Such initiatives travel alongside a clear need to improve how we collectively alert Māori (prospective students and communities) to the richness of career opportunities that the design industries can offer, and how we articulate the benefits that increased numbers of qualified Māori design professionals can bring for our Māori and broader communities.

So then. The kaupapa matua of this paper is to lay down both tono and wero to the design industries, design education providers, the development community, government agencies and iwi/hapū. We invite you to work alongside the Māori design community, to bring us your talent, to develop with us as we develop, and to collectively work to shape where and who we are in 21st century Aotearoa. Like our tūpuna, we look forward to looking open-faced and open-minded across a clear space primed for the meeting of minds and worlds, a fertile space where mātauranga, mana and wairua sit easily with other epistemologies and beliefs that others may bring to our shared challenges and opportunities. Read this as an open-hearted karanga into our space, a call to recognise our mana and rangatiratanga, and the opportunity to come work alongside us, pokohiwi ki pokohiwi. By all means bring the tools and knowledge that you have to challenge and inspire us, but be prepared for challenge and to be inspired by those we bring. Let’s sit down and share a cup of tea. And when you come whānau, make sure you bring a kai. The kettle is already on....

We also need to actively recognise, develop and provide for those design professionals and practitioners who hold mana whenua affiliations in the areas within which they practice. Where proficient in both knowledge systems (and this responsibility falls equally to iwi/hapū and design educators), this group possess a unique ability to bridge cultural and knowledge gaps between the mainstream design community and Mana Whenua communities, to navigate the serpents and taniwha that occasionally reside in those seas. The tangible benefits that this group can offer for relationships, for project processes and for project outcomes is evidenced through the (slowly but surely) increasing number of Māori design professionals and the success of projects that they are involved in. Increasing the frequency of these benefits can only be achieved via a broad cross-sector approach to actively curating this expertise, and nurturing those spaces where this expertise currently exists. All sectors. Together.




niwaniwa - I was blessed to take a trip on Sunday afternoon, Fathers Day, a seven hour drive to see a sight to behold. An intrepid journey through the only virgin and largest intact native rain forest in the North Island, Te Urewera National Park. Like a portal back in time, this is a right of passage for all New Zealanders, (if you have not been you need to go!). In Te Urewera , you get a tiny glimpse into what our tupuna - forebears would have witnessed, the deepest valleys, the largest kauri, the clearest rivers, and a mist like no other. Incredible ... On to the main event, the reason to get me there, the one and only Āniwaniwa, a centre older than I, a whare tāonga, a great building, a building of huge significance, a building by the legendary John Scott Architect. John Scott, a great man of Te Arawa descent, is my architectural idol, he is unparalleled in creating, humble yet majestic architecture, architecture that celebrates his aroha of the whenua, tangata and a real pride of place. Āniwaniwa celebrates all this and more. It is a building that embodies concepts of both mana whenua and tangata whenua. Āniwaniwa is without question a total celebration of this place, Te Urewera , Aotearoa.

Early Monday morning , I was lucky enough to have a solo tour through Āniwaniwa, I used every minute of this time, hurrying slowly through the spaces. John Scott Architect drops hit after hit of architectural euphoria, mostly unexpected, in this building, Scott continues to achieve the impossible, mixing totally humble aspects and materials with volumes like no other, creating spaces which are part majestic wharenui, part cathartic cathedral in the bush ... All brought to a thud when the hard hats turned up, and after figuring out I was not on their team, I was escorted out. My first protest Ake Ake Ake !!! Back outside, a group of us gathered by the waharoa, struck by complete disbelief (how can you seriously even think of demolishing Āniwaniwa ???). This passionate group, many of whom were responsible for saving Futuna Chapel and others, the children and friends of the late and great John Scott Architect, did the only thing we could do, a poroporoaki a fairwell ceremony. Guided by Ema Scott, the releasing of the mauri life force of this national treasure was performed ... From early Monday morning many karakia and waiata were performed, tears were shed , acknowledging Āniwaniwa, in all its mana and majesty, and its place in Aotearoa’s living history. I’m not totally sure what to take from this , there are certainly powers at play above and beyond your average supposedly cannot touch a category one heritage listed whare tāonga. I and many others certainly hope some kind of justice can be served. For me, I’m very grateful, grateful I got to experience the one, the only Āniwaniwa.

TEACHING AND CHANGE Dr Diane Menzies NGĀTI KAHUNGUNU, NGĀTI WHATUI APITI PHD Lincoln, MBA Canty, MBUS: Dispute Resolution Massey, DIP LA Lincoln, DIP Hort (Dist) Lincoln, Life Member NZILA, Hon Member IFLA, ALACIS (Russia), International Member ASLA (USA), ONZM, Dep Chair Ngā Aho MĀORI ADVISORY COMMITTEE CHAIR ARCHITECTURE, LANDSCAPE ARCHITECTURE


aking change can be frustrating, humbling and painful. It is frequently misunderstood and unwelcome. The change-maker is the unloved: change is not fast enough for some, rejected angrily by others. Change involving culture also brings misconceptions and fear. It is uncomfortable for all. Landscape Architecture has been a predominantly middle class pākehā (European) pursuit over the 100 plus years since its inception. Although ingrained with western cultural values this had not been recognised by the profession until in the last fifteen years those in Asia and the Middle East raised the problematic nature of cultural values. In Aotearoa New Zealand few Māori students have had the resilience to tackle the alien nature of the profession until recently. Introducing cultural change into the Unitec Landscape Architecture programme has been a challenge. Despite the barriers, Māori landscape graduates are beginning to flourish. As graduate numbers increase there comes a greater ability to change teaching and practice to enable different ways of seeing and doing. This short discussion shares some of the steps and stumbles experienced as the landscape architecture programme moves towards bicultural landscape architecture. The barriers to successful cultural change at Unitec are limited resources, limited skills and knowledge, and resistance. Advantages are committed staff, a vibrant student diversity which includes a global range of cultures, and a refreshing organisational informality. An initial strategy for changemaking was the formation of a Māori Advisory Committee (MAC) for staff and management, with open participation by students as well as invitations to Māori landscape graduates of Unitec. All participants are volunteers, their time being given to support the change. However, as a reflection of the challenge of communicating cultural change, the MAC meetings can be both disappointing and inspiring.


AN EXAMPLE OF THE MESSAGES CONVEYED AT ONE MEETING: ‘We have been sitting around this table for the last two years and nothing has happened’ (from a Māori graduate in frustration, but devaluing staff initiatives). ‘We are finding huge opportunities for including Māori cultural concepts in procurement and practice. Clients are selecting our proposals for their cultural inclusion,’ (from a Māori graduate, providing support for Māori students and staff). ‘Here is a proposal for a course on bicultural awareness for landscape architecture,’ (from a new Māori contractor presenting a helpful proposal but without discussion with the staff first). The reactions from staff are a feeling of ambush, but also of hope. Change is happening, and in that change is hope and inspiration. Change-makers though need the dogged determination and zeal of missionaries: but this seems to be the nature of cultural change.

WHAT HAS CHANGED? • A noho marae to welcome Year 1 students is now held at the start of the courses. The first time there were 18 staff and students, the second year numbers doubled, and next year 100 are invited to Ngai Tai’s Umupuia Marae at Maraetai. The purpose of the two day event is to bring the student cohort together, while introducing the bicultural course component in a Māori cultural setting. • Studios and course work in planning and design with iwi/ hapū to experience Māori cultural principles and practice and enhance student perceptions is also intended to provide some benefit for the hosts. • In 2016, with the volunteer help of kaumātua, Māori practitioners and staff, eight or so events were held in a marae setting, open to visitors, staff and students. This has included two wānanga on the Treaty of Waitangi; and seminars on research topics. • Opportunities have been made for student presentations on cultural topics. • An international indigenous conference to which support for participation and student presentations was given. • In addition a range of seminars on Mātauranga Māori topics have been held through the year. Other changes include a Māori student scholarship, a room set aside for Māori student use, course review, change to the New Zealand Institute of Landscape Architects education policy supported by staff, language and cultural learning opportunities offered to staff, and this year a focus on cultural diversity in the annual landscape journal X-Section. A new Masters in Māori Design also opened their teaching to staff and students at Unitec. This of course is not enough. Better relationships with local iwi/hapū must continually be built and nurtured; resourcing for Māori staff needs to be found; and students need to be continuously supported. But at the same time Unitec has been enmeshed in change as have other sectors. WHAT CAN BE LEARNT? In order to achieve change, generosity, tolerance, respect, expert communication and solid support are all necessary. The change to bicultural landscape understanding is not negotiable at Unitec: it is now essential for sound professional performance in New Zealand. Students who cannot accept this have left the course, and staff are challenged to undertake continual learning which must somehow be achieved. Yes, change is happening but in the meantime it is a tough, tough challenge.


What is the most important thing in the world, the people, the people, the people



TE RAE Carin Wilson NGĀTI AWA, TUHOURANGI WORDS: 2016 X-SECTION TEAM Refer to page 120 for Footnotes arin Wilson is famous for his work as a furniture maker, sculptor, design educator, and is of particular note as a leader within the Aotearoa’s craft movement. Noteworthy within his career are solo exhibitions, the origination and development of public and private projects with a cultural focus. His works continue to be inspired by his Māori heritage and personal philosophical and political views. Carin is one of the founding chairmen of Ngā Aho, a design initiative that advocates for collaborative and creative practices among professionals with specific indigenous Māori values.


At the heart of Carin’s work is an exploration of creative processes, his inspiration is drawn from many sources but significantly, American artist, Peter Voulkos whose work is about engagement of the head the hand and the heart. Nothing works unless you can get all of those in sync with each other. Carin understands what it means when they are all working in complete synchronicity... Carin: “time moves into a different dimension, in Māori culture we call that ‘the wa’: it is elastic, a different time, space, and in this compelling zone is how we are supposed to work”.


The Pt Chevalier Square development is a collaboration between Carin Wilson, Bespoke Landscape Architects, Parahaki Engineering Whangarei, Formscan 3D Silverdale and Auckland Council. We were lucky enough to spend some time with Carin firstly helping him install part of the Pt Chev project, and then also to have a beer and discuss the project fully over lunch at his incredible home Pukeruru. This was a perfect setting to experience with such an inspirational and generous person. Carin’s wife Jenney was wonderfully hospitable and put on a delicious feast for us all. Within the square five sturdy park benches set on rails made from cor-ten steel and sustainable timber are positioned throughout the site. The seats slide back and forth encouraging a playful interaction between site users and add a dynamism of movement into the space. Six sets of cor-ten steel blade sculptures representing harakeke create a subtle barrier between the busy main road and the square. Clusters of engraved rocks are arranged around the site informing the narratives of the local Māori history. Te Ara Whakapekapeka o Rua Rangi (Tainui figure ), Te Auaunga ( Oakley Creek), Te Waiorea (Western Springs), Te Rae (Pt Chev), The weight of the rocks anchor the narratives to the land. “it is our job to make sure the stories are told, and we need to be careful that the Colonial history is not the only history”

The Wairaka stream running through Unitec has significant stories that are associated with it, there is a deep history embedded in the land there. Three prominent waka, Arawa, Mataatua, and Tainui, have all been hauled up and anchored in here. The stream is known for being a healing stream and the story’s associated to Te Rae, or Pt Chev as it is now known. The site design recognises and is encouraging an understanding of its history. “The site is telling a story and is about memory making. When you interact physically with something you create a memory and you come to understand better when you’ve been lead through the knowledge. Physical points to stop pause and be told the history. Identifying with the stories of the landscape this is ‘memory making’ this is how you pass knowledge on through generations. Like ‘Stone Henge’ these are memory making resources. This is how information was passed on. Not written”. While talking with Carin our conversation lead to a discussion of Australian writer, researcher and science educator, Lynne Kelly. We talked about her research and writing on ‘memory making’. Words are remembered through feelings and physical interaction, and that is what the songlines are about… “You are anchoring information….songlines were key to the way Indigenous Australians organised this vast store of information so that it would not be forgotten”. “Songlines are sung narratives of the landscape, singing tracks that weave across the country and enable every significant place to be known. At each location, rituals are performed that enact the knowledge associated with that specific place”.1

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The engraved rocks are story boards communicating the history of Te Rae, setting up a trail, connecting the rocks and linking the stories. The heaviness of the stones anchor the narratives to the land. “Someone said we should have a board explaining what I’ve tried to achieve here. You hope not to make it to obvious but teaching kids the history of the area and local schools would be a positive outcome. In our culture we know of the wananga. In Māori culture the ‘chair’ was a ‘stone’ used in wananga. The student that came to the wananga had to sit on the stone while the tohunga walked around talking to him imparting on him knowledge and generally there was quite a ritual around it. You had to put pebbles in your mouth and suck on the pebbles because you knew you couldn’t swallow them but they helped to keep you awake. You are sitting on this rather uncomfortable stone sucking pebbles and listening to the tohunga intoning all of this information”. Since the redevelopment a more diverse range of people use and move through the square, the site has changed now, it is more alive, and there is more energy. The space was previously not used like this before, it was empty, cold and uninviting. “What I’ve learned is the significance of the location and also tried to tell the stories about how pre-colonial days there was an important confidence of energies and an important energy centre. The energy of the tunnel and motorway realises itself through a whole new cycle. Generations later but the energy never abates”. We discussed the process of working in collaboration with Council as an artist and the issues that arose throughout the project. We asked Carin to explain the interaction between the different groups that were involved in the project, the inter-relationships and how the design evolved through those relationships: ‘how much do you have to hold onto your design’? “You have to hold onto your design and fight pretty hard to hold onto it. The learning curve was that council have responsibilities around public spaces, one of those is keeping people safe. You, as an artist have to be conscious of that, health and safety has changed so much”.


There were safety concerns with the design of the sliding bench seats. There were concerns that children could jam their feet underneath the small gap between the seats and the ground. Carin remembers the old style playgrounds he played on as a child. Steel bars, hanging from his knees, falling...the fault lay with him, the user. We discussed that, if you as council, were trying to support a creative endeavour, you really wouldn’t want to dumb down the input of the artist. They (project managers) only knew how to build spreadsheets and how to stick to a specific formula. The process becomes very clinical and is broken down into units of production and outcomes. “The art process does not really work that way. You have the genesis of an idea, then you develop a methodology about building it, then you just embark on the process. There will be unforeseen issues, and you just solve them on the fly. The chart will say this needs to happen on this day. When through production you recognise that perhaps a couple of things could happen at the same time. They should have dedicated project managers to work with the arts team”. At a recent hui, Carin expressed his views about the difficulties he experienced with the project, and questioned the challenges of being recognised as someone who wants to creatively contribute to civic development. “You believe you have something to offer and want to talk to the broad plan of what is going on in the city. The lack of knowing and understanding what the council procurement processes are, and that council go back to the same people all the time, the simplest and most uncomplicated route. So how do new artists get into the loop and get involved with new projects?” Following the hui Carin was approached by a council staff member who informed him about a new process for artists and public projects called ‘unsolicited proposals’. The process enables artists to approach Council for consideration in a project. This then falls to people to put their hand up and say I’d like to be considered. “It would be good to let people know that this is now available... so, hopefully it will be easier for the next person, or the next artists design”.

ENDNOTE FROM CARIN. Carin would like to acknowledge Parahaki Engineering Whangarei, the steel fabricators he worked with for part of the project. The company have a small team and they mainly work with fairly generic large scale tasks. The team easily adapted to working in a smaller scale, and the innovation to produce something out of the ordinary was no issue. They set themselves to the task and learnt new things along the way. The whole team either got involved or watched intently alongside. Carin really admires them for that and he suspects he noticed there is a creative aspiration in everybody, they all harbour desire that the work opens up in areas where that creative impetus can find expression.





e Pōti Marae in unique insofar as it consists of an original circa 1870 earth floor wharepuni / meeting house, (the only one of its type in Aotearoa), a Pātaka - elevated store house and an original two bedroom Victorian cottage all of which were largely abandoned in the late 1930s when the river road was put through to Pipiriki on the left bank of the river. Following a visit to the marae in 2011 to film an episode of the Whare Māori Television series (http://www.maoritelevision.com/tv/shows/whare-maori) I remained in contact with descendants of the marae Don Robinson and Adrian Pucher and, together in 2014 we initiated a restoration project with the direct support of Heritage New Zealand (formerly the Historic Places Trust). The project involves annual tranches of 2nd, 3rd and 4th year architecture students from the Unitec Department of Architecture along with Te Hononga staff (Rau Hoskins and Carin Wilson) and descendants of the marae working with Heritage NZ conservation experts to restore the wharepuni named ‘Kōhanga Rehua’, an original Pātaka along with the design and construction of a kāuta (plywood kitchen lockup), a whare manaaki (dining structure) and eco ablutions facilities. Our students commenced in semester two 2014 by researching Whanganui River Iwi histories, marae and traditional construction techniques and then spent a week in October that year on the first stage restoration work for the wharepuni. This included re-piling, installation of new bottom plates, new stud bases (to replace rotten sections) and the assembly of a new rear wall frame. The wharepuni restoration process progressed again in semester two 2015 with new raupō insulation (sourced from a local swamp) to replace the existing, new weather-boards, a full corrugated iron re-roof, new maihi (barge boards) and amo (front wall plates) as well as the levelling and preparation of the earth ready for final shark liver oil coating. With the wharepuni restoration now being 80% complete, the focus this year has moved on to the Pātaka with students writing a conservation report and quantifying and sourcing materials ready for the first stage of work planned for October this year (2016). Other students have been formed into teams to design, source materials, seek sponsorship and prefabricate separate water collection tower, shower and composting toilet structures. This work also involves researching and designing alternative energy, water collection and waste water systems in order to maintain fully sustainable solutions for the marae.With Heritage NZ and Unitec staff and students providing free labour, the marae whānau are primarily funding the materials and transportation (including the jet-boat trips across the river) as well as catering for up to 35 hungry students per visit. While students stay in tents and are without cell phone coverage, electricity and hot running water for a week at a time, they seem to really appreciate the experience and certainly new cohorts keep coming back for more!





Faced with a culturally significant project, how can clients, designers and mana whenua come together to create an outcome that respects and reflects the importance of a place, whilst still achieving the functional requirements of the brief? Once you have established cultural narratives, how do you integrate kaupapa Māori and its layers of meaning, without it simply becoming a design adornment?


he design and construction industry is currently on a journey with iwi towards greater understanding of the process, benefits and manifestations of meaningful mana whenua engagement. Since 2013, Auckland Transport (AT) have led a programme to transform Ōtāhuhu Station into a Bus / Train Interchange (BTI); a vital new piece of public transport infrastructure for South Auckland. As the project reaches completion, the following article outlines the successes, lessons learnt and areas for improvement generated from a round table discussion between Auckland Transport’s Joshua Hyland and Simon Lough, project artist Tessa Harris (Ngāi Tai Ki Tāmaki) and Jasmax’s Jeff Wells (architect) and Sara Zwart (landscape architect). Further thoughts have been added by project artist Graham Tipene (Ngāti Whātua).

The Ōtāhuhu Station incorporates a significant new bus and train interchange as part of the ‘New Network’ bus planning in Auckland. The unusual site is an industrial area away from the Ōtāhuhu Town Centre. Selected for its operational advantages, it provides a significant opportunity to improve the area and create a unique sense of place. The project includes a concourse and ticket office structure, bus stops, parking and turnaround and significant site landscaping including a public plaza, urban forest and planted wetland, and raingardens. THE FOLLOWING 10 IWI GROUPS WERE ENGAGED THROUGH THE PROCESS OF THIS PROJECT: Ngāti Maru Ngāti Tamaoho Te Ahiwaru / Makaurau Ngāti Te Ata Waiohua Te Akitai Waiohua

Ngāti Whātua o Ōrākei Ngāti Paoa Ngāti Tamaterā Ngāi Tai Ki Tāmaki Ngāti Whanaunga

Mana whenua engagement at the outset of the project enabled clear priorities and narratives to be established. These were further refined through the use of ‘Te Aranga Māori Design Principles’. The principles are ‘a set of outcome-based principles founded on intrinsic Māori cultural values and designed to provide practical guidance for enhancing outcomes for the design environment.’1 25


‘If you’re going to have an iconic structure – in my opinion it should be about New Zealand culture… the Te Aranga Design Principles and mana whenua attitudes link back to the land and all these other rich themes’ (Joshua Hyland [JH], Auckland Transport) Ōtāhuhu has always been a geographically and culturally significant place due to its location on the narrowest point of the Auckland isthmus. A key gateway into Auckland, this 1km strip between the Waitematā and Manukau Harbour was traditionally a significant waka portage (Te Tō Waka / Te Tāhuhutanga o te Waka Tainui). For this reason, it has always been a highly valuable and contested piece of land. Today, Ōtāhuhu remains a significant cultural and industrial suburb within the city limits of Auckland; its population growing at a rate exponential to the super-city. Auckland Transport’s early intention and vision for this project was to create a uniquely New Zealand and iconic transport interchange that respected and reflected both a quality user experience and embedded mana whenua values. This focus set the scene for a three year collaboration between AT, mana whenua, the design team, and selected iwi artists. Early in the project, particular focus was given to engagement with mana whenua to enable an intrinsic understanding of the true significance and values related to the site for the iwi who are linked to this place. This process had two key outcomes: the desire to restore the mauri - life force back to a highly degraded site; and the establishment of three key narratives to be incorporated into the project design: navigation, portage/waka and maunga. ‘…the richness of the stories that are available there, the themes fell out and people were very generous with their stories and how it all fitted together… there are stories wherever you go’ (Simon Lough [SL], Auckland Transport) There was an early desire that art and Māori knowledge and narratives, should be closely integrated within the design, structure and intent of the landscape and architecture. There was also limited budget for the inclusion of art. An integrated approach reduced the risk of ‘decorative’ elements becoming sacrificial. Key to achieving this integration was the introduction of three operational processes which significantly improved communication between all parties, facilitating more effective design collaboration and decisionmaking. ‘I wanted to keep the kōrero around the table with the designers, with mana whenua, an ongoing conversation rather than something going on behind closed doors that had to be integrated later’ [JH] 26

THESE THREE PROCESSES WERE: • Auckland Transport worked with iwi ‘facilitators’ (Tipa Compain of AT, and Rau Hoskins of DesignTRIBE) in the early stages of mana whenua engagement when understanding of tikanga - protocol was lacking within the wider team • The establishment of an ‘Iwi Art Sub-Committee’ allowed more frequent meetings and direct and ongoing engagement with iwi artists and mana whenua representatives in the project’s design • A widespread commitment to report back, openly and honestly, to regular hui to inform all concerned parties of the project’s progress ‘We had some hard conversations with mana whenua but it was always upfront and honest, so if we weren’t sure we said so, if we were struggling with something we said so…’ [SL] The project team wanted Māori design influence to be more than token or ornamental in the project. Mana whenua values, reinforced by the use of Te Aranga Māori Design Principles, resulted in several highly sustainable design outcomes including stormwater being treated on site and discharged to the Manukau Harbour clean, via raingardens and a planted wetland. Plant selection is native and appropriate to the site and includes species identified as having significant importance to local iwi, with the intent that they can be harvested for both weaving and rongoā - medicine. And a simpler, yet still significant sign of changing values was the use of macrons within the station signage. The three project narratives became manifest in several ways over the following months of design. An early design move was the building orientation and reference to the form and alignment of waka traveling along the portage. This is reinforced by rango paving inlays representing the ‘skids’ used to haul the waka over. There were several iterations of the concourse design which had to balance structural, cost and design constraints whilst still symbolically representing a waka. The question of ‘how literal is too literal’ was hotly debated at this point. Through these kōrero - discussions with mana whenua a successful compromise was met, which resulted in the building ends being angled to better represent the waka form.

‘We were trying to bridge the gap between quite literal expectations and the realities of the structure, with a background of not enough time, not enough budget and sometimes having to go back and redesign’ (Jeff Wells, Architect, Jasmax) Whilst the opportunities for integration of iwi art and narratives were established early – it was not until the Art Sub-Committee was formed, and artists Tessa Harris and Graham Tipene were appointed - that the many of these were formalised. Through a series of collaborative design workshops the client, iwi representatives, artists and designers met and resolved how to integrate the project themes. This process enabled the design to move quickly to meet the programme, and was aided by the richness and clarity of the early mana whenua kōrero.

‘When I got brought in everything was clear – I knew what I had to do. I enjoyed working with everyone to get their input. It was a little bit nerve wracking at the beginning… The people around the table – if they wanted to say something they would – being honest and open helps a lot and…that integrity that people know they’re going to get the straight up story’ (Tessa Harris, Artist, Ngāi Tai Ki Tāmaki) Three key artworks were integrated within the building: Purapura whetū mahau - light feature at entry and Aramoana - glass shading detail by Tessa Harris, and Maunga Moana - pre-cast concrete façade detail by Graham Tipene. These concepts are grounded in the layers of Ōtāhuhu’s history, and the programme and use of the building itself.



This design PURAPURA WHETŪ is a tukutuku pattern, talking about the many peoples populating this region both past and present. Nga mate kua wheturangitia (loved ones passed on). The X representing whetu - stars, Maori used whetū for navigation, direction and guidance. Here in this entrance, similar to a mahau - verandah, it is a used as a welcoming pattern representing manaakitanga - hospitality. ARAMOANA - WINDOW FRIT PATTERN TESSA HARRIS


The piece created for the Ōtāhuhu Interchange Building was created after a kōrero with Hana Maihi about the project. Hana noticed the design spoke clearly to the piece of land that sits between the two water ways and also represents the two bodies of water that sit either side of the isthmus. This is the essence of the design. We pay homage to the whenua and the moana. To dig deeper into the tikanga of the design is to uncover more layers of kōrero that can be used to compliment many of the aspects that are needed to speak to the piece on its own but to also address some of the interlinking connections of the Moana, the Whenua, Waka (as a means of transport) and also our connection to Ranginui and Papatūānuku. The top and bottom designs are representative of water and were inspired by the traditional Pūhoro design. The Pūhoro design was carved into traditional waka to help make the waka move faster across the water. This design is also employed in Taa Moko on the legs. For this piece the two water ways also speak to the people who lived on and near the water. We as Māori can show our identity through simply mentioning our waka. Waka (as a means of transport) is represented in these two parts of the design.

The main pattern running through the entire design is ARAMOANA. This is talking about the journeys, the waterways (from one to another), the ebb and flow, tai timu tai pari, the coming and goings. Specifically, referencing the waka that have been through this portage. The varying TRIANGLES are representing different whanau, hapu and iwi that have not only occupied this isthmus but those who have transitioned through this area too. This pattern in its contemporary form also refers to the many different groups of peoples that will come through this area now and in the future.


The centre piece represents Maunga. These Maunga are an integral part of the Isthmus and its history. To our knowledge the closest connection to a Maunga and the positioning of the piece is Ōtāhuhu/Mt Richmond. Overall we have over 50 maunga in the Auckland area. Each of them has a unique identity. If we go deeper we will be find more kōrero that connects to the diverse history of these Maunga. For Ōtāhuhu there is the unique landscape between the two harbours. Trade was controlled from this maunga. Access to and from the waterways was controlled from this Maunga. In more recent history it was the spot where the Colonial Army set up base camp for the Waikato wars of the 1800s. Dig further and the creation of the Auckland area is told and the existence of many of our landforms are explained. Nga Tuaitara a Taikehu, Te Ipu Kai a Mataoho. These two ancient names have almost been forgotten.

Tessa and Graham were also instrumental in the development and manifestation of other Māori concepts within the wider design; such as the rango - paving inlays and maunga maumahara. Arrival and departure from the station navigates through a field of ‘maunga maumahara’, or memorial markers to the significant local maunga. These align with paving lines that are directional, denoting the physical location of the maunga, allowing the traveller to locate themselves in relation to the whenua (land), and commemorating now absent maunga. Whilst these were an early feature in the project design, the detailed design, blessing and physical construction was an ongoing collaboration with both Tessa Harris and the wider mana whenua group. The greatest learning from this aspect of the project would be a desire to engage the artists even earlier in the process, ideally in sequence with mana whenua engagement and the establishment of the key narratives. This would allow a greater influence in the structural and programmatic design and may have assisted with some of the tensions around the ‘waka’ building form. ‘The whole process speaks to the evolution of process itself, 50 years ago there was no one sitting around talking about this… whereas now there is history being brought into play, there’s mana whenua being brought into play…The evolution of process has changed, it’s really good that this is happening. Personally for me it ticks a lot of boxes and resonates well for my personal involvement in the project’ (Graham Tipene, Artist, Ngāti Whātua Ōrākei)

The three operational processes established a dialogue that truly works; yes, there were aspects we could have done better, however for us as individual practitioners and stakeholders, this level of engagement was beyond anything we had previously experienced. The kōrero rangatira - meaningful conversations created an ingrained sense of place and belonging to this collaborative project. We learnt that central to the success of this was the importance of building relationships and demystifying both iwi tikanga - custom and the design process itself. This built a level of trust amongst the team and created an environment where it was acceptable to hold your hand up and say ‘I don’t know what to do’ and ask for advice. ‘It was about respect, the Te Aranga Principles and what they stand for, they’re not just about mana whenua, it’s about nurturing the land, the memory of the land, and what’s been before’ [JH] There is a genuine desire within mana whenua groups and the design community to create a built environment enriched by the history, knowledge and tikanga of Aotearoa. We’re learning together how best to reflect the past we come from and define the future we walk towards. The first step in this journey is an authentic desire and belief in the value of good engagement and collaboration with mana whenua. This understanding and respect goes a long way – and speaks louder than words at a hui.





e Auaunga Awa – Oakley Creek is one of Auckland’s most significant and well-known urban streams, its catchment spans four local board areas, and covers a geographical area of 1220ha. The headwaters of the stream begin in Hillsborough and Mt Roskill (Puketāpapa), and flow down through the suburbs of New Windsor and Mt Albert, entering the Waitematā Harbour at Waterview. The project area is located along 1.3 kilometres of Te Auaunga Awa, through Underwood and Walmsley Reserves in Mount Roskill, Auckland. The project begins at Sandringham Rd, and finishes downstream of Richardson Rd and has a budget of $25m. DESIGN AND STORMWATER CONSIDERATIONS The design team, comprising of AECOM New Zealand Limited (AECOM), Boffa Miskell Limited (BML), Auckland Council, Mana Whenua, and Local Community groups have been engaged by Auckland Council to design the restoration project and achieve multiple project outcomes, which include: • Flood mitigation via improved stream capacity • Rehabilitation of Te Auaunga Awa • Improved walking and cycling access and infrastructure within the park (a 1.5km cycle lane and walkway will add passive opportunities to connect with the awa) • Improved community amenity (through planting, provision of three new play areas, a BMX track and two new bridges will replace road culverts and three new pedestrian bridges) • Improved water quality (Enviropods in catch-pits and numerous treatment wetlands will also be installed to treat run-off) LANDSCAPE-LED, COMMUNITY EMPOWERED Te Aranga Design Principles (derived from Te Aranga Māori Cultural Landscape Strategy 2006, www.tearanga.maori.nz), provide the mechanism with which the stream, landscape and the community are reconnected.


A CO-DESIGN PROCESS In accordance with Te Aranga Māori Design Principles, the design and consultation has been collaboratively undertaken with mana whenua – five iwi representatives were engaged and asked to consider and how their particular interests and passion could help to develop the project. The Iwi representatives were empowered to choose how they engaged with the project, resulting in a consultative methodology, which focused feedback and thinking, whilst enabling innovative design solutions. These included: Taiao - The natural environment is protected, restored, and/or enhanced, and Mauri Tu - Environmental health is protected, restored and/ or enhanced. In addition, other community representatives including volunteer groups, community organisations, residents and Local Boards were also consulted and contributed to the design process. MULTIPLE USE – MULTIPLE BENEFITS Land value in Auckland is such that land cannot be used for just one purpose. The project weaves together a wetland treatment device that enables stormwater treatment functionality and also develops design solutions that contribute to amenity, cultural, habitat and ecological values within the area. COMMUNITY OUTREACH AND SOCIAL ENTERPRISE Other design and community outcomes have been factored in as advised by iwi, such as the capacity for the project to provide opportunities to influence behaviour change and provide tools whereby reconnecting with the awa is achieved. These are woven into the design and implementation process – this acknowledges and honours Maori world view - manaakitanga. The tools include providing a community space (an outdoor classroom) with edible gardens, pā harakeke, and a multi-cultural fale where all communities can be welcomed and knowledge can be shared. Additionally, 9000m2 of basalt to be removed from the stream will be re-used and placed back into the stream as crushed stone, creating in-stream habitat and recreating stream morphological features (pools, riffles, runs). The construction and maintenance of the project is expected to give back to the local community through a training and work placement scheme for local youth (‘Project Peter’, in collaboration with UNITEC), with the winning contractor to employ and continue to upskill five graduates of this programme, the remainder will be supported into full-time employment. Auckland Council has also provided seed funding for Te Whangai Trust to develop a commercial nursery, and provide training to local youth to grow eco-sourced native plants that will then be purchased for the restoration planting.



REGENERATIVE DESIGN PRACTICE – PURPOSEFULLY SEEING POTENTIAL TOGETHER TO CO- CREATE SOLUTIONS THAT CAN HEAL THE WORLD. For all our personal and business efforts, for every hard won healthy green building, every enterprise that reduces harm or poverty, every new technology that improves communication, we still, inexorably consume our world, just as we are conditioned to do. With more people needing more stuff, we need more of our planet’s resources and life to ‘sustain’ us and continue to grow our economy. Can we only go backwards or can we go forward by regenerating our relationship with life?


Regenerative design practice addresses three challenges critical to us continuing to live on the planet now and in coming centuries. 1.

Reawakening a celebration of ’nature’ as the whole ‘source’ of life rather than a world of extraction and technical fragments


moving from individual siloed solutions to working as ‘communities’ with the living whole and


leveraging our projects so the investments are integrated with nature and continuously add value to our ecologic, social and economic systems.

Rather than banging on about reducing negative environmental impacts – we might want to look at increasing impacts – but the positive kind! The regenerative design ‘process’ asks a project to be an ‘acupuncture’ point, to serve and heal the wider neighbourhoods and watersheds in which it sits.

People inherently recognise living wholeness, loving nature, even if we need to consciously relearn how to express and work with it professionally! Be it a bathroom extension, a landscape park or a multi-storey office, the act of development is intrinsically an ‘activating’ force which also stimulates ‘constraining’ forces or limitations. Conventionally we are trained to seek compromise in the hasty need to deliver a on time. ‘If I give a little to you and you give me something’ we actually end up with less! The regenerative process, a co-creative opportunity is for us to reconcile these constraints into a new evolved future. This is the transformation of process and outcome is what we need in our culture. That the developer, the communities and of course nature transform to ensure we can all flourish and continue to, generation after generation because we have fallen in love with ‘our’ place.

How? The process allows this by engaging with and asking people ‘what they love about their place?’ and critically ‘what’s missing’, what stops it from being whole? The answers naturally unveil patterns of use and fundamental relationships. Relationships between people and people, and – between people and natural systems. Healing these relationships, with celebration and acknowledgement gives rise to the potential of ‘the’ future we are then motivated to co-create. This simple act of invitation, of talking, of identifying the health of their place, activates people and communities to want to realise that potential to heal.





raig Pauling (Ngāi Tahu, Ngāti Mutunga, English, Scottish, Welsh) is a founding member and former co-chair of Ngā Aho - the national network of Māori design professionals (www.ngaaho.maori.nz), and currently heads the Te Hihiri Cultural Advisory Team at New Zealand owned environmental design and planning consultancy Boffa Miskell (www.boffamiskell.co.nz). Craig has almost 20 years’ experience in the environmental management field, particularly focussed on iwi Māori issues. He has a passion for ensuring our unique natural and cultural heritage is celebrated through urban design, natural resource policy and planning, and ecological restoration. Te Timatanga Reflections and poems are inspired by local and international speakers at the inaugural / Te Timatanga Indigenous Design Conference hosted by Nga Aho at Whakapara Marae, 26-29 Febuary 2016.


inspired by David Thomas - Peguis First Nations My Moon Shaped Heart, Design lessons from my Ojibway Mother at I Te Timatanga, 28-02-16 image modified from a photo by Jade Kake

inspired by Daniel Glen - Apsaalooke Crow Transcending Tradition: New Architecture on Indigenous Lands at I Te Timatanga, 28-02-16 image modified from a photo by Hayley Hooper

inspired by Patrick Stewart - Nisga'a Indigenous Architecture: Dim Sagalts'apkw nisim at I Te Timatanga, 28-02-16


inspired by Elisapeta Hinemoa Heta - NgÄ ti Wai, Waikato, Samoa, Tokelau Unfolding Kaitiakitanga: collaboration, protocol and the institutional space at I Te Timatanga, 28-02-16

inspired by Tokie Laoton-Brown - Nigeria Merging the Self-Organization Activity Approach Using African fractal Spatial Patterns with Tangible and Intangible Values, at I Te Timatanga, 28-02-16 39



Ethan Reid LANDLAB_

hristchurch was originally defined by the imposition of a gridded organisational system upon the sprawling plains of Canterbury. With minimal levels of topographic excitement, the plains accepted the grid without protest, with exception to the course of the Ōtākaro/Avon River; where fluvial margins meandered an insistent route across the heart of the new geometry. Intersecting an imported logic with a local environmental system was the beginning of a specific urban character for the central city. In the aftermath of the Canterbury earthquakes of 2010 & 2011, recovery efforts looked to the edges between city and river as locations for catalytic urbanism. In order to approach what had essentially been asphaltic streets atop the river bank, design efforts drew from diverse influences and precedents from afar.

Again imported concepts are transformed in dialogue with the Ōtākaro. Zooming in to a finer grain, part of the vocabulary in this conversation is a sequence of literary and graphic artworks, manifested at specific points within the wider riparian promenade and park. Entitled ‘Literary Trail’ and ‘Nga Whāriki Manaaki’, these interventions are components of the Ōtākaro Avon Arts Trail; conceived as a kind of overlay to the new public realm of Christchurch. Simply put, a design process which seeks to articulate the relationship between people and the river, whilst expressing a shared cultural history with greater dexterity than previous iterations of the city. Defined by Ngāi Tahu principles; “Kia atawhai ki te iwi, Be kind to your people” Welcoming citizens back in to the recreated city, and; “Unu tai, which waters are you from?” the project embraces the river as a way to differentiate place and identity.

The Literary Trail is a family of text pieces, integrated with the stone ground-plane of the promenade, and inscribed on the vertical face of stone ‘bleachers’ set into the riverbank. Equal parts English and Te Reo, the content of the text has been both selected and commissioned to highlight the nuances of the Ōtākaro riverscape. Upon the recently completed river terraces/ bleacher at the terminus of Cashel Mall can be found the first literature piece; BEFORE ME | A FLOTILLA OF LEAVES FLOATS DOWNSTREAM | ALONG THE INKY BLACK WATER OF THE ŌTĀKARO | HOW SERENELY THEY SAIL OUT OF THEIR PAST | AND INTO THEIR FUTURE | BEHIND ME.1 In implied answer, across the river; KO ŌTĀKARO TE INGOA | O TE AWA NEI | NŌKU TĒNEI WHENUA.,2 The relationship between languages is further explored in the contrast of English in a heavy Gotham font, and Te Reo in Raranga – a special font developed by typographer Neil Pardington, in which letter bodies appear hand chiselled.


In alternating frequency with literature pieces, the ‘Ngā Whāriki’ are allegorical weaving mats, translated into durable stone and settled within the promenade at locations intersecting with specific stories, narratives and points of interest. Their position upon the bank varies, as if deposited by the Ōtākaro in flood. Each pattern illustrates different stories and ideals, originating with master weavers Reihana Parata and Morehu Flutey-Henare, and iteratively translated into digital drawings with graphic designer Wayne Youle. Effectively a visual language system, the pattern can be read longitudinally as a stacking of layers which read as a sentence. Laterally, the pattern can be extended by modules described as: “hono; meaning to join, connect, splice, weave to make a longer mat”3 At five hono in size, one of the largest Whāriki can be found at the threshold of the Bridge of Remembrance. Maumahara responds to the presence of the bridge, depicting marching lines of servicemen and women with a central band of red poppies symbolising distant fields, underpinned by the pātikitiki pattern, a connection to the spiritual realm.

In time, both Literature and Whāriki installations will appear episodically along the river from Antigua Boatsheds to the Margaret Mahy Family Park, responding to a range of idiosyncratic environmental, social and cultural conditions. Zooming out, these features will sit within the broader Avon River Promenade, a fairly consistent urban fabric which will unfold along the course of the river. It will read simultaneously as a (potential) sequential journey, and as a series of distinct stand-alone spaces defined by moments of difference, widenings and narrowings, buildings new and old. It is within this choreography that the Arts Trail installations will play their part. They are exacerbations of spatial difference which magnify shared cultural values and aspirations for the future. The spatial configuration of instigating a new human centred walkable public realm with coffee, beer and lunch aside the river, is held up in parallel with the desire of Ngāi Tahu to set the deeds of ancestors in stone, whilst exploring the indigenous identity of the future. The close scale of this article is intentional, if bizarre in comparison to typical landscape architectural strategies. Māori values are embedded in the rebuilding of the city at much broader scales, but it is this very fine, human scale that I believe is most relevant to the discussion of differentiation by design within the Ōtākaro Arts Trail project.

In a lineal public realm project, where the process of spatial division is primarily achieved via perturbance of the ground plane, these interventions have provided an effective means of defining a specific intensity within the typical paved surface. While it pains me to admit most paving systems will go largely unnoticed (if successful) it is undeniable that in this case, the abstraction, interpretation and translation of a traditional means of weaving mats has created a captivating feature worthy of contemplation (and surely a foot-selfie?). On the face of the river terraces, stories of the river from different cultural perspectives have become detailed objects, a layer of craftsmanship which dips into the river and enhances the rhythm between installations along its course. In the context of this project, the integration of indigenous values has led to a form of public art which is embedded in the fabric of the built landscape, as opposed to objects placed atop. This in turn, has generated new design concepts, which read both as a cohesive, big picture story sequence, and as a fine grain differential material at a human scale.


PANEL BOFFA MISKELL PANELISTS Andrew Priestley, Alex Smith, Hanna O’Donoghue, Yoko Tanaka, Ian Boothroyd, Eynon Delamere and Mark Lewis MĀORI AS A PEOPLE ARE VERY INCLUSIVE, GENERALLY MAKING DECISIONS IN A COLLECTIVE WAY. DO YOU NEED CONSENSUS TO MAKE DECISIONS, AND HOW ARE DECISIONS FORMED WITH IWI GROUPS AND COMMUNITY GROUPS IN GENERAL? It is important to involve iwi and community groups as early as possible in projects so they are aware of the project parameters and scope. As designers, we want to engage with these groups and consult in a way in which their ideas are considered. For the consultation process to be effective, the early stages should be focused on setting objectives and first principles, but also as much about forming relationships and trust. Following any consultation work, initial and ongoing feedback is a very good idea to keep stakeholders and partners informed and build longterm relationships. Recently, we were involved in a project where we were appointed to lead the design process with Mana Whenua on the signage and wayfinding. To achieve the project deliverables within the required time frames, we programmed regular meetings (monthly) and presented the design progress to ensure there were opportunities to engage and sustain the design dialogue. This informed engagement resulted in outcomes that everyone contributed to, and created a strong ongoing partnership. At Boffa Miskell we have Te Hihiri, a team of passionate specialists that lead the integration of Te Ao Maori in environmental management, planning and design. This is premised on strong relationships with Iwi, Hapu and Maori across Aotearoa. In Tāmaki we have Te Aranga design principles, but only Iwi can breathe life into these principles and make a good project great. At the forefront of our practice, is a desire to working alongside iwi to come up with solutions that will celebrate our city’s cultural landscape as a unique place in the world.



Yes, it’s part of how we approach all our project work at Boffa Miskell. This aligns with the key values of the Auckland Design Manual which sets out the requirement for practising the Te Aranga Māori Design Principles; setting out how we can positively engage with Mana Whenua and shape our built environment to acknowledge our position as a city in the South Pacific. The biggest constraint we face when incorporating cultural narratives into projects is a lack of awareness from other professional disciplines, and the reduced time and budget ascribed to these processes. Thankfully there are many public projects and larger-scale private clients that do engage with Mana Whenua and community early and often, both to meet RMA requirements, as well as to recognise the value of long-term partnerships with community and Iwi. Sometimes a Project Landscape Architect may be given a brief that has already been informed by consultation with community and local iwi. The challenge becomes respecting the aspirations of these groups, and balancing this with the client’s specific objectives. It is preferable to be around the table early with stakeholders and project partners to set first principles, and understand project constraints, as a collective. Currently we are working on a wide range of public and private projects where Mana Whenua are partners, including regional shared path networks, streetscape projects, stream restoration, and stormwater wetland projects. In the early stages of these projects, it is helpful to explore Te Aranga Design principles, and to understand these in a spatial sense through a ‘cultural framework’. A framework can highlight areas of cultural significance and is an effective tool for socialising potential project outcomes with Iwi representatives and identifying opportunities for specific interventions. Importantly, these frameworks also introduce cultural values and narratives to the project team and the client, so they can take a lead in informed discussions with Iwi and community groups. Another way indigeneity plays-out in our project work, is through a deliberate native planting scheme. New Zealand native plants have a unique indigenous context and role within our diverse ecologies. This extends to community uses for these plants as cultural harvest, including edible landscapes, aro takaro, rongoa Māori, and pa harakeke.




NOARLUNGA DOWNS WETLAND SCULPTURES Paul Herzich NGARRINDJERI / KAURNA AND GERMAN B. Des. Stud. B. Land. Arch. AILA Aboriginal Landscape Architect + Visual Artist


et on the fringe of the Onkaparinga River of South Australia; a local estuarine environment has been transformed from a series of sludge drying lagoons which once stored treated wastewater from a nearby SA Water wastewater treatment plant into a thriving wetland sanctuary that houses a series of nine inter-connected ponds that hold and filter localised stormwater run-off before releasing it into the sensitive Onkaparinga estuary environment of Noarlunga Downs. Some 205,000 native seedlings from 75 provenance aquatic and terrestrial plant species were very cleverly planted across the 16 hectare site to transform the now Noarlunga Downs Wetlands and has become a haven for over 80 different native bird species and also supports a thriving community of native fish, tadpoles, frogs and shrimp.

As an outcome of the extensive consultation and engagement that took place with the local community, local environmental groups and the local council, it was agreed upon by all to recognise the importance of the Onkaparinga estuary for the Traditional Owners. So SA Water worked closely with Adelaide based contemporary Aboriginal artist and landscape architect; Paul Herzich and commissioned him to design sculptures that would be placed along a trail within the new wetland. Part of Paul’s brief was to design ‘seats that aren’t seats’. With the combination of corten steel, mild steel, stainless steel and concrete. Paul’s works include two ‘seats’ in the stylised form of traditional bark canoes with fishing spears that were traditionally used as punting poles to glide the canoes across the waters of the Onkaparinga River and around the estuary.

The management of water for Aboriginal people is paramount. Whether it be for drinking or hunting, Aboriginal people would holistically look after reliable water sources because it meant sustaining their survival. Aboriginal people hunted along the Onkaparinga River for fish like Black Bream and Mulloway as well as Yabby from bark canoes made from locally sourced Eucalyptus Camaldulensis - Red Gum trees. At night, a small fire would be placed on a clay base in the middle of the canoe to attract fish to the water’s surface. The tops of the canoes are decorated with local Aboriginal cultural icons that connect people to country. They represent animals, food, weaving, environments, cosmology and spiritual dreaming stories. Radiating out from the base of the punting poles are ripples with laser cut stainless steel water droplets that contain important stories of the environments past, the present and future. The stories reflect a timeline of how the local environment has changed over time as well as share stories and connections to the Aboriginal way of life. In 1991, Archaeological research uncovered Aboriginal artefacts along the Onkaparinga River dating back to at least 7,500 years ago. In 2011, a number Aboriginal ancestral remains were uncovered along the Onkaparinga River during the construction of the Seaford Rail Extension Project. They also dated back to being around 7,500 years old. The sculptures celebrate and value the strong Aboriginal connections to the place and area. They represent Aboriginal cultures that has survived for over 60,000 years. They are important sculptures that serve as cultural markers for both the Kaurna and Ramindjeri people who on occasions shared the area surrounding the Onkaparinga River environment.


Paul Herzich was born in Port Pirie during the spring of 1969 to a mother of German descent and to an Aboriginal father. He is the youngest of four children. His father’s mother was Marjorie Herzich (nee Rankine), an Ngarrindjeri woman born at Meningie who lived at Point McLeay (Raukkan) until she was removed from her family and fostered out. Marjorie’s earliest recorded Aboriginal ancestor was Nellie Raminyemmerin; a Kaurna woman who lived on Kangaroo Island for some time and the sister of Iparrityi and Lartelare; who were all daughters of Ityamaiitpina; a senior Kaurna Elder who was given the English name of ‘King Rodney’ by early colonists. It is through Paul’s German heritage that he is also a descendant of people in one of the first groups of Lutheran migrants to come to South Australia, who initially settled at Hahndorf in the Adelaide Hills and has since extended out to places like Bethany and Tanunda in the Barossa Valley. Paul identifies as a Ngarrindjeri/Kaurna man and is an Adelaide based Aboriginal landscape architect and visual artist who has a focus on Aboriginal people, art and country. Paul has built a strong representation across South Australia for his work in urban design and place making for local and regional Aboriginal communities. Paul has quite a collection of artworks in various mediums located across the South Australian landscape. He has facilitated art workshops for Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal people. In 2013, Paul presented a series of state government works at the 50th International Federation of Landscape Architects World Congress in New Zealand and he also held his first major art exhibition as part of the 2013 South Australian Living Artist’s (SALA) Festival at the Tandanya - National Aboriginal Cultural Institute in Adelaide. In 2010, Paul received the NAIDOC SA ‘Artist of the Year’ Award, and in 2007 the South Australian Premier’s Award for ‘Outstanding Individual Performance in a Workgroup – Landscapes that Integrate Aboriginal Culture’. Paul was also an executive member of the Australian Institute of Landscape Architects South Australian Group for 12 years – before starting a family. Paul was the first Aboriginal student to complete a Bachelor of Design Studies in 2000 and a Bachelor of Landscape Architecture in 2002 at the University of Adelaide, South Australia and he is the only practicing Aboriginal landscape architect in South Australia.

JAKE CHAKASIM Interview: X Section and Dr. Diane Menzies NGĀTI KAHUNGUNGU, NGĀTI WHATUI APITI PHD Lincoln, MBA Canty, MBUS: Dispute Resolution

Massey, DIP LA Lincoln, DIP Hort (Dist) Lincoln, Life Member of NZILA, ALACIS (RUSSIA),ASLA (USA), ONZM, Landcult LTD, Chair of Ngā Aho

Photos: Desna Whaanga-Schollum, NGĀTI RONGOMAIWAHINE, NGĀTI KAHUNGUNU, NGĀTI PAHAUWERA DWS Creative, Chair of Ngā Aho


ake Chakasim is a lecturer with Laurentian University’s School of Architecture, located in Sudbury, Ontario, Canada. He teaches design studio with a focus on global indigenous precedents. His interdisciplinary approach to the creation of art + architectural practices addresses the need to re‐contextualize Aboriginal traditions through refined typologies.

Jake is currently pursuing a PhD with UBC’s School of Community and Regional Planning (SCARP) with a focus on aboriginal (vernacular) traditions coupled with the ramifications of development induced displacement and resettlement patterns; namely, foregrounding the ‘domestic’ diaspora experience of Northern Ontario First Nation communities.

Ngā Aho partnered with Unitec held a wananga with Jake at Te Noho Kotahitanga Marae on 8 June 2016 “Architecture of Reconciliation”: Urban Mauri - Cultural Connection


WHAT ARE THE MOST IMPORTANT PRINCIPLES AND VALUES FOR CREE DESIGN AND ENVIRONMENTAL PLANNING? First, we need to genuinely acknowledge the stewardship role global Indigenous cultures continue to abide by. Second, we need to recognize the pivotal role cultural reciprocity has to play between people and places. Together, these provide a deep sense of economy as to how we approach, maintain and manage our individual homes and collective homelands. At the same time we mustn’t forget we are part of global community where traditional boundaries have been blurred and personal identities have been shifted. As a Cree designer, I’ve come to accept and appreciate the fact we are all in this together – regardless of who or where we come from – at the end of the day we all apply a different sensibility to the values we carry and where they come from.

DO THESE VALUES APPLY FOR URBAN/CITY DESIGN? Certainly. It’s just a matter of how one decides to work, apply and/ or interpret their intergenerational (or relational) values across materialism i.e. the use of cultural artifacts and/or symbols and where we exercise these values – be it rural or urban – context is everything. The way I have come to see and experience it, Indigenous cultural values are more relevant today than they ever were, merely because half of the world’s indigenous population(s) are now urbanized – we’re more connected via technology but less connected to an understanding of place. Also, with a change in location – be it voluntary migration or forced displacement – many of our cultural practices and formations have been re-contextualized. Our stories have begun to take on new meanings, new interpretations, in the process revealing new modes of indigenous practices (including paradigms) for both the artist and professional design practitioner. It’s an exciting time to think of these values in terms of modern versus traditional, rural versus urban, authentic versus synthetic, etc. as it relates to global ambitions.

HOW ARE THESE VALUES AND PRINCIPLES GIVEN ‘VOICE’ OR EXPRESSION IN CANADA? I can give you a few examples that cut right to consciousness of Canadian society. An obvious example would be our Canadian currency. At the turn of the 21st century we started to see the recognition of Indigenous art displayed on our Canadian bank notes, most notably Bill Reid’s sculpture Raven and the First Men. Of recent, Indigenous artists are starting to be formally acknowledged by the Canadian public at-large. For example, international musician Buffy St. Marie (Plains Cree from Saskatchewan) is one of two finalists to be publicly voted on one of our bank notes. I know these are monetary examples, superficial to some extent, but they serve as everyday reminders of ‘who we are’ and ‘how’ our collective identities are expressed and, sadly, disposed of. Our indigenous identities are still teetering on the 50

edge of tokenism. Yet a more recent and promising example would have to be the Idle No More social movement; a social movement that not only ‘activated’ spaces between architectural settings (the urban fabric) – i.e. round dances in public spaces (road intersections) and blockades of transnational rail lines was founded by three First Nations women. These are just a few ‘voices’ or forms of expression informed by stewardship values and unfulfilled Treaty Rights. On a more personal and proactive front, one of the ways I have been able to give ‘voice’ and ‘expression’ is in the form of Canadian Architectural Education Policy. To me architecture is the ultimate backdrop that informs our contemporary settings and traditional identities. Not only does Indigenous architecture, Indigenous planning and related design professions provide the necessary context from which our traditions move forward upon but also, they provide our Indigenous youth the opportunity (a gateway) to formulate and articulate new expressionisms. Gone are the days when architecture was mainly viewed as a middleclass Caucasian profession. In Canada, we have made significant strides to influence Architecture Education policy to be inclusive of indigenous ways of knowing, doing and making with the development of two (2) brand new schools of architecture in the last 5 years. That’s pretty significant when you consider most universities are huge investment machines that help shape Canadian cities; more importantly, where future indigenous architects, engineers, and planners are created whom in turn, will be able to help design healthy First Nation communities and facilities.

IF YOU WERE STARTING AGAIN IN ACADEMIC STUDIES ARE THERE THINGS THAT YOU WOULD DO DIFFERENTLY? Tough question but probably not. I think at the time of my architectural studies I became more aware of who I was in relation to my studio peers. My culture was a huge asset to my studies. I say that because there weren’t any other identifiable First Nations students in the school of architecture I attended. Instead of seeing this as a negative I saw this as an opportunity to put forward an alternative design perspective. At the time the concept of sustainability was mainly seen as a technical response to design and planning. The role of culture had yet to play a part with contemporary architectural practices. If it did, it was merely at the beginning of the design process and not carried through the entire project and into the life of the building. As one of my mentors often says, “the time was ripe for an Indigenous worldview to inform architecture within the disciplinary borders of academia.”

YOU HAVE AN INTEREST IN COMMUNITY AND AWARENESS. HOW DO YOU CONVEY YOUR MESSAGE? Awareness has always been central to my understanding of place. I accredit this to my grandfather who taught me at a young age about the spirit of place through generational Cree hunting practices. This sense of awareness arrived through positioning oneself in the natural environment – developing a deep understanding of temporal forces at play - the natural. The communal aspect came in the form of giving back – sharing one’s harvest of big game hunting with the community – essentially providing for those who may not be in a position to do so. There’s a sense of humility in that, a good humility. How do I convey this message? As a person trained in architecture, engineering and soon to be professional planning – I gift my skill-set back to the community – it’s a way of sustaining our culture values while reinforcing an act of cultural reciprocity – again, it’s culture in action.

HOW COULD WE BEST MOVE TOWARD RESILIENCE IN URBAN DESIGN IN NEW ZEALAND, FROM YOUR KNOWLEDGE OF THE CANADIAN SITUATION? When I think of resilience I look to my twin boys – Tapwewin and Pawaken (age 9) – then I look to my grandparents who experienced and survived one of Canada’s darkest secrets – Indian Residential Schools. Somewhere along that continuum there is strength, not in the sense of numbers but rather in the stories we choose to tell about ourselves. More importantly, how we have overcome this dark chapter in our history and are now able to articulate better safer spaces for our future generations.

Resilience and reconciliation go hand and hand but we must be careful not to wait until immediacy is upon us otherwise we will short change those little one’s before us. Here in New Zealand, because of the size of your country, I get the sense you may be forced to act more quickly and creatively than us Canadians. The model you have developed works and I look forward to learning from you as a community as you may from us.

WHAT IS YOUR VISION FOR FUTURE INDIGENOUS DESIGN EXPRESSION? It’s not so much a vision but rather a hope for future indigenous design expression. One day I hope to see hundreds of Indigenous architects, engineers, and professional planners making well informed decisions and investments about the way our communities are designed. Some might say ‘a return to first principles’ but I like to think of these as ‘a refinement of first principles’. Our Indigenous communities for the most part have operated from the margins of society for so long that it comes as no surprise we can and shall always do more with less. Some of the best problem solvers make use of one or two unknowns. These individuals tend to be the most creative because they see things not for what they are but what they can become. So it’s not so much a vision but rather who and what goes into it.





nherited through family bloodlines, Te Arerenga is both the historical land title for a coastal section of land on the Western side of Rarotonga, and namesake for an artist residency, the Te Arerenga Project. Initiated by Pouarii Tanner and Sam Thomas, and functioning since 2015, the project started as a bare piece of land. Gradually, with the help of family, friends, and New Zealand Architect Fritha Hobbs, two living and dining structures were built by hand, the area was planted, and an upturned catamaran with a long history at sea was transformed into an artist’s workshop. The project came to life, the space already having supported a wide range of artists from New Zealand and further abroad, each of whom leave a trace of their practice or work at the site for following visitors to encounter. In English, Te Arerenga can be translated as ‘The Yellow house’. A reference to ‘The Yellow house’ studio of Vincent Van Gogh in Arles, which was used as an escape by Parisian artist, Paul Gauguin, the two spaces have kindred intentions. Both create environments for artists to be inspired by differing climates and culture. A deeply enriching experience, the residency space will continually develop and evolve, both to accommodate residents and as a result of artists’ interaction with the site and the culture of Rarotonga. Part of the freedom of the Te Arerenga project for an artist is linked to the opportunity to develop one’s practice without a direct outcome or deadline. Rare amongst artist residencies, this is enhanced by the more familiar isolation from quotidian activities and distractions, and in our case separation from Auckland’s urban culture. The layout and architecture of the Te Arerenga Project by Fritha Hobbs, in conversation with Tanner and Thomas, is in the traditional fale/are layout. Hobbs took on the project on a very tight budget, understanding the desire to work with a traditional approach to Pacific living, yet shift it into something suitable to contemporary life. She took the process from its origins in planning, to obtaining building consent at the Ministry of Housing in Rarotonga. The Te Arerenga Project includes an are kai, are moe and are meangiti. The separate dwellings encourage visitors to interact with the entire site, and live within the principles of Pacific culture.

A PROJECT IN TWO PARTS The intentions of the Te Arerenga Project are guided by two core principles: 1.

Enua (Land) – An understanding that the space was donated for use as a place of work and thought. A mindfulness that one engages with the site as well as the wider context of Rarotonga.


Teititangata (Community) – A relationship is created that allows for communication and integration between the resident and the Rarotongan community.

In April this year, we spent a week at the Te Arerenga Project in preparation for an artists residency we have been invited to undertake in early 2017. During the visit we encounted a relaxed sensibility, both from the locals and the way they build their structures. Function takes precedence over more costly materials or design. It encouraged thought towards a project that works in with the Rarotongan flow of life. We were fortunate to have been shown around the island by Tanner’s mother Jane, a local, and caregiver of the Te Arerenga Project while Tanner and Thomas are in New Zealand. We shared in experiences that allowed us an insight into community life. We observed a communal approach to land and crops between family and friends. The construction of a meal may include a tiki-tour to a relatives’ fruit tree that is particularly bountiful. Eating and talking became a very, if not the most, important part of the day. The experience inspired us to create an installation that will remain on site to be used by visitors and residents. A space for relaxation and contemplation. Following a discussion with Hobbs, and influenced by the modesty of the structures both at Te Arerenga and more broadly across the island, the first part of our proposed idea is to create a low lying hammock structure. This will hold 2-3 people at a time, that will be cohesive with the fale layout. The structure will function as an outdoor space for visitors to engage with physically, where they can draw, think, relax or otherwise. With views to the mountains, the sky, and surrounding palms, it will be an open space to rest, fully immersed in one’s surroundings. The structure is planned to be semi-permanent, and incorporate catamaran materials to integrate the aesthetic with that of the capsized catamaran-turned-workshop that has become a feature of the project to locals and visitors alike.


The second part to the project revolves around the sustainability of land at the Te Arerenga project. While staying on the island in April we visited the Cook Island Ministry of Agriculture to investigate the potential to improve the ability to grow fruit and vegetable crops on site, as part of an integrated approach. It started with an investigation into the soil structure on Rarotonga. It is essential to understand soil behaviour and performance, as this can make nutrient management a challenge. As various soils act in very different ways, there is no single nutrient management strategy that can be applied to all soils. Â As a result, the approach to improved sustainability at the Te Arerenga project will be experimental in process and implementation. The soil composition of Rarotonga can be simply divided into three sections: 1.

Coral sands and coral alluvium (sand) along the coast, which has poor water holding capacity, is free draining, and has low nutrient quality. Â Te Arerenga is situated in this section.


Basaltic alluvium and Basaltic colluvium (clay loam) makes up the mid section, which has excellent water holding capacity and high nutrient value.


In-situ Basaltic on the island interior, which results in the inability to grow arable crops.

The Te Arerenga project was constructed on a site composed essentially of sand, which limits the ability to grow crops well due to the low surface tension of sand. Since water is held within the pores of the soil, the water holding capacity depends on capillary action and the size of the pores that exist between soil particles. Sandy soils have large particles and large pores. As a result, sandy soils drain excessively. On the other hand, clay soils have small particles and small pores therefore clay soils tend to have high water holding capacity. The proposal seeks to improve the structure of the soil, by raising the surface tension of the site, Â mixing the basaltic alluvial soils of the interior coastal margin with the sandy exterior soils of Te Arerenga to a level that supports healthy nutrient uptake and water holding capacity. This experimental process would see channels dug extensively throughout the site. The sand removed would be re-distributed and the mixed sandy loam would be reinstated. Further development of this project would see organic material created by the residency integrated into the process that will improve soil structure. A Project in Two Parts, comprised of a functional, low lying hammock, and a shift in soils to promote growth and sustainability, is our response to the land and project Te Arerenga. Our aim is to leave a lasting trace that will benefit artists and visitors in the future. Building on ideas present in the construction of the project, we bring our own sensibilities, and hope to leave with a deeper connection to the land and culture.



s a 3rd year BLA student from Ontario, Canada I had the opportunity to participate in an exchange program where I spent a semester at Unitec. I left the comfort of my routine lifestyle and spent several months exploring New Zealand’s North and South Islands. Distinctive in character and in memory, particularly, my time spent camping in Fjordland National Park, and the calf-wrenching hikes I conquered in both Glenorchy and Tongariro National Park heightened my sensibilities for wildlife. Venturing out to experience a sense of placelessness afforded me unique opportunities to find a sense of self outside of the familiar, to initially see the landscapes’ visual and structural beauty, and furthermore to gain a major appreciation of the integration of people and landscape. Edward Relph, a Canadian human geographer, contributes the ideas of ‘insideness’ vs. ‘outsideness’ to the understanding of sense of place and placelessness. He explores ‘insideness’ as the degrees of attachment and understanding of places whereas ‘outsideness’, when one is in a place but succumbs to alienation due to strangeness, for example: homesickness 1. Sense of place is something I defined out of habit rather than an attachment fueled by excitement, joy or fulfillment. I shifted my perspective, and rather than visiting places with preconceived notions, I embraced the chaos of unpredictability. Relph highlights that significant places in the world are being replaced with anonymous spaces and exchangeable environments, therefore resulting in what he calls ‘placelessness’ 2. For myself, placelessness is more the process of overcoming the cushioned pre-conceptions I had from travel blogs, embracing the unknown and opening myself to opportunities. Being placeless is less about a physical space and is much more phenomenological that goes beyond the levels of conscious awareness 3. There exists a transient sense of place for me in New Zealand, something that leaves me longing to return. I attribute much of this to cultural transparency and the openness shared in spaces like the Te Noho Kotahitanga Marae. I have heightened my understanding, appreciation and respect for Maori indigenous land values and recognize the importance of place making. The process has led to my new found ‘insideness’ within the New Zealand landscape; something I reflect upon in pursuit of new design challenges back home.


The familiar crunch of uneven stones under my feet as I step onto the driveway, the ease that comes as I walk to the house and see the dog with a look of disbelief from the front window; a returned sense of place embraces me but with an invigorating flare of unfamiliarity. Now back in Canada, I wonder if Maori identity, so strongly rooted in sense of place and the landscape, is a tangible perspective for peoples in Canada. Most vividly observed was the way New Zealand provides a more transparent view of indigenous relationship to the land than in Canada. Canada hosts a melting pot of cultures, but unfortunately the rich variety of cultures has been lost in concrete jungles and cookie cutter planning approaches. We are blessed with some of the most unique scenery in the world. This has inspired my current research into sense of place and presence of indigenous cultures in urban Canadian landscapes. The Canadian landscape is a very strong identifier for Aboriginal peoples of Canada and I appreciate even more the need to celebrate this in urban settings. Sense of place should be defined by human experiences but not merely out of habit. Unifying Canada’s identity by strengthening people’s connection to landscape is a sustainable approach that stems from our Canadian Indigenous Aboriginal roots. Efforts to reconnect Maori people with their land and implement more inclusive design efforts, specifically the works of NgÄ Aho, are significant models for Canadian landscape design. The New Zealand landscape has re-shaped my approach to travel, my personal relationship to the landscape and my perception of placelessness; the importance of travelling light both in pack and in mind.


HA NOI - VIET NAM Jacqueline Paul 3RD YEAR BLA

Refer to page 120 for Footnotes


uring November 2015 to February 2016 I travelled to Ha Noi Viet Nam where I stayed at the Vietnam National University of Forestry in Chuong My, Xuan Mai for research and development study. The aim of the research was to help to understand the impacts and effects of urban sprawl in Ha Noi City, societal influences that have shaped and formed the city and provide an insight from local people on their views about the rapid urbanization and their living situations. These include social, environmental, physical, political and economical views. How has urban sprawl affected them? What they would like to see for future development?


Historic Development: Old Quarter 36 Streets

Developing Areas: Giang Vo, Trung Tu, Thanh Xuan

New Urban Development: Yen So Urban, Van Phu

As Ha Noi continues to expand and urban development is changing, lives are either improving or being negatively impacted. From the centre of Ha Noi much of the traditional settlement development remains in the CBD and consists of small narrow tubular homes, developing areas are changing drastically and gentrification is occurring. Conditions here are still poor. New urban development is the form of fabricated houses designed with a modern approach and influence. I hope through this research, some ways might be found in order to benefit the local people by providing a voice and insight to their perceptions of place. This approach recognises the importance of the local people in decision making around development. Through better planning and policies in Ha Noi, Vietnam changes could be encouraged that enable a more localised approach to the design of cities. Implementing strict urban planning and building policies (e.g. Building Codes to restrict informal development, plans for urban sprawl and development controls) would suggestively be an appropriate approach that would benefit the locals and finding balance between the planners and local people.


GETTING TO KNOW THE LOCALS A series of questions were asked in order to gain understanding of local perspectives. We were invited into their homes to understand their living situation and discuss several issues they face. These discussions were about housing, infrastructure, urban development, environmental and social problems and the economic situation in relation to property value and culture. This is an ancient quarter in Ha Noi, which is a popular tourist destination. I spent approximately 4 hours in the old quarter and managed to only survey one person. A lot of elderly people refused to be surveyed, many shop owners were busy, people who were trading in markets didn’t actually live in Old Quarter, they lived further in the outskirts of Ha Noi and many foreigners occupied this area. It was very difficult to differentiate and find someone with experience in Old Quarter to share their views. It is a very traditional and commercial trading area where much of it is used for business and residential uses. I managed to speak with local Mr Ng Quang Son who lives in a tubular dwelling which is long and narrow and roughly 20m2 with 10 people living with him in his home. There is such a high density rate within the area and he says intensification is normal. The development in the area is very compact and there is no green space available for each home. Traffic is hectic with more motorcycles than cars, the area is very overcrowded. This means there’s noise and air pollution. Many people wear face masks to reduce inhalation of pollutants. There are several environmental and infrastructure problems that old quarter suffers from as a result, including many of the related factors. This includes air and water pollution, zero green infrastructure, limited provision of open space or recreation zones, limited cycling and walking infrastructure, limited green space and vegetation, traffic congestion, intensification causing strain on limited resources and more. The developing areas that I observed and surveyed were all built during the 1970’s and financed by the Soviet Union. Around 20 almost identical state-owned areas were built in Ha Noi during this time. The yellow plastered concrete buildings stand three to five stories high. Many of the residents who live here have previously worked for the government. I spoke with 3 locals and their families from all three areas identified – Thanh Xuan, Giang Vo and Trung Tu. Based on that information received, I understand that a lot of gentrification is taking place where stateowned residents are asked to move into other homes so that their current ones can be demolished for commercial development. This also means that construction is taking place which is causing

a lot of noise and air pollution which affects locals directly. There is an imbalance in planning between state owned housing and new high rise developments. This means that current communities are being impacted by new housing structures which might be 20 storeys high compared to their existing apartment buildings of 3 storeys high causing displacement. Its means there is a new environment within existing communities making difficult for them to adapt to change Locals are comfortable and safe in their existing communities despite the conditions but find that culture and relationships are more important to them than transferring into new high-rise apartments. I spoke with local Tueu Thu Huong, she believes that the construction of unregulated buildings is a result of historical political structure. For future development she would like to see several buildings demolished and redeveloped because the shape/structure of the current organization of development is spatially arranged inappropriately. This means that a lot of the architecture has been shaped overtime from societal influences. This shows the change in development which has formed with little or no planning or building restrictions. If we compare this to Auckland, we have the Auckland Unitary plan which controls each zone and what can be developed there along with building restrictions. Ha Noi is still in the development of a structured City Masterplan. The new peri-urban development has been built in the last decade. It is where urban and agricultural land meet. A more sustainable approach to new communities has been taken and there is a lot of open green space available with a lot of vegetation along streets, several local parks, great road infrastructure, blue and green infrastructure and better air quality however, locals must pay a premium to live here. The existing communities have benefited from the urban sprawl as their living conditions have improved, however the inhabitants still face social issues. The property value will increase, which might mean in the future they might be not be able to remain there if living costs increase. Planning and architecture has changed in Ha Noi because a lot of the development is shaped and formed from western influences. From designers to materials. A business culture that supports local businesses, buy local materials and employ local tradesmen should be developed. The culture in this development has also changed. Some streets are named numbers compared to the centre of Ha Noi where traditional street names still remain. Preserving culture and values through design would benefit the local people and embed identity within the landscape rather than create further disconnection. Based on this research project I wanted to show how families in Ha Noi are affected by planning decisions and rapid development changes. Locals don’t get a strong voice at governance level. Perhaps as an outcome of better communication and connection with locals there could be healthier and happier communities. New Zealand could provide the blueprint for this type of development where the relationship between professionals and mana whenua is growing and this methodology is a great way to demonstrate how developers and indigenous people of the land could work together.

MÄ€ TE HURUHURU KA RERE TE MANU Adorn the bird with feathers so it can fly






he notion of “Whiria te tangata” drove my design – to weave Māori culture back into the land of Oratia. Upon discovering and learning about Oratia through site visits and research strong ties became apparent to European Settlement and culture. This was evident in the buildings, and flora and fauna. Less foregrounded was the presence of tangata whenua and the strong connection Māori people once had to the land. The design attempted to weave Māori culture back into Oratia. This was achieved by mass planting an iconic plant that was heavily utilised through Māori culture, Phormium tenax/cookanium more commonly known as harakeke. The Settlers Hall Reserve is characterised by its hilly topography, a perfect environment for harakeke, the planting was positioned along the contours, to help mitigate soil erosion and also to create a natural flow. I renamed the reserve “Matauranga Reserve” – meaning traditional knowledge. This reflects the design intent as it supports the notion to bring back Māori culture and all some of the traditional knowledge that is tied to it. Three main elements were designed that mirrored each other. On the east side of the Settlers Hall is a viewing platform and on the west is a weaving whare that flows onto two other passive spaces. The significance in having three main elements is to represent the Rito child and the two Matua - parents that are found at the centre of a harakeke plant. Throughout their life and harvesting these three are untouched to ensure the continued growth of the plant. This research into Oratia and it’s context ignited the important connection the Indigenous people have with the land, and something as simple as mass planting this iconic plant could have a significant impact within the community, generating knowledge and more importantly recognising the significant Māori culture.



Refer to page 120 for Footnotes

andscapes, both cultural and natural, have the shared aim of conserving what has gone before and, in turn, growing from it. Sustainability is at the heart of both of these landscapes. The cultural landscape shares a symbiotic relationship with the natural, feeding from it, taking no more than what is needed. The cultural landscape works with the natural, there is understanding that each element in the system has its own importance. That the rise and fall of life is as natural as the process itself. The layering of vegetative succession, or generational inheritance and narrative of what has gone by. The land has its own methodology, its own way of doing. Processes that have developed over thousands of years, building on what has gone before. It has been a learned behaviour that when we begin in a new area that we must remove what has gone before to begin anew. That has been the only way we can make our mark on the land, is to make that mark wholly ours. A behaviour from a bygone era, where populations coming from across the world meant making the familiar commonplace. Where the ecological and indigenous were a curiosity not a consideration to be accommodated. Familiarity meant the introduction of exotic species that dominate the indigenous. Where narrative was left as a fire side story, and history began with the landing of the first sailing ships. We are dependent on our landscapes. Landscapes that have fed generations of us, we cannot forget how important the natural process is to the resources we enjoy. That it is thousands of years of natural process that has blessed us with abundance. What we must learn is that we cannot go it alone. As a species we are not removed from our landscapes, we are a part of them, we come from, grow and return to them. We have begun to appreciate natural wonders for their own sake and not what can be done for us. What I now understand through Landscape Architecture is that the narrative is as important as the changes we make, and how those changes affect what is. It is too easily a superficial construct easily thrown aside. Making the spaces we do create a temporary commodity, easily rendered obsolete. For if we don’t wonder about the history of a place and work with it, how would we understand how our spaces have been used. This can be mirrored in the process of the natural landscape, the process of generational succession is the same for people as it is for fauna and flora. A young seedling grows in the light created from the absence of its predecessor. The ancestor uses knowledge which is inherited to the next generation. As they pass their works nourish and inform us, show us the path that was laid before us. Man made landscapes that are a continuation or reflection of a natural landscape show our ability to recognise value. To recognise that we can and must work with natural process, there are things to learn. Like the natural sedimentation prevention that takes place in a meandering stream, or the role plants play in clean water filtration. Through our own action we can preserve the self sustainable environments. Environments that evolve independent from our involvement and impact. What has been de-constructed has returned full circle. The indigenous and the natural have once again become important and intrinsic to what New Zealand is and who we are. Our point of difference is what makes our spaces unique. What identifies our spaces is us and how we inform design through natural process or pre-existing narrative.


WEST COAST STRIATIONS Bela Hinemoa Grimsdale TE ĀTIAWA, NGĀTI TOA, KAITANGATA 2ND YEAR BLA Refer to page 120 for Footnotes

The arrival of European pioneers and settlers into the West Auckland area in the 19th Century made a large physical impact on the Waitakere Ranges. Land was cleared for farming, and trees felled for wood and gum. The once largest Auckland river, The Waitakere River, was dammed for drinking water creating Auckland’s largest wetland now known as the ‘Te Henga wetland’.1 Through my own observations and research often the history of Oratia and wider context of the Waitakere and West Coast area is discussed in direct reference to European settlement. Many significant features such as street names, landmarks, and orchards bare the names of families and cultures that are associated with these settlers. However, the history of the area extends further beyond European settlement to a deep and rich history of the Māori occupation of the land. Māori recognised that the environmental and geological conditions of Oratia were suitable for cultivation and named the place, Oratia - ‘the place where the sun shines brightly.2 Europeans carried on this tradition and developed orchards and vineyards in the area. The concept of history is less of a singular interpretation but rather the overlaying or layering of histories. To greater or lesser extents these histories can be observed as certain layers are peeled away and others are revealed. These layers are made visible through a process of erosion that reveals the marks and remnants of past activities. Asking questions rather than re-creating. Geologically this process may be described as ‘striations’ in the land. Culturally these are striations of the histories and their marks across the landscape, human impacts cutting into the land leaving permanent marks in the landscape.

Te Kawerau ā Maki, the tangata whenua of the Waitakere area since the early 1600s. Although Te Kawerau ā Maki no longer permanently occupy the land they still hold strong traditional ownership and mana of their ancestral area.3 The Waitakere area is of great importance to the local iwi. In pre-European times the area was intensively settled because of the coastal location and abundant food resources. The cultivation of kumara, taro and gourds, and the close proximity to the sea provided for numerous village sites.4 Fortified Māori settlements known as pā can be recognised by their position within the land and their earthworks which are still often clearly visible. Almost all of the 53 pā sites known in the Waitakere Ranges and West Auckland are located on top of land features that provide excellent natural defences. Many of the islands along the west coast were once used as pā sites and their earthwork remains are still present on Kauwahaia and Ihumoana Islands (Te Henga), Lion rock and Taitomo Island (Piha) and Paratutae (Whatipu).5 Te Kawerau ā Maki have a long and intimate association with the Bethells/ Te Henga/ Waitakere Valley area, which is their most significant area of cultural association in the Waitakere Ranges. Te Kawerau a Maki are the recognised ‘people of this land’. 6 The significance of the Māori place names provides insight to the strong relationships that Te Kawerau ā Maki have upheld with their ancestral land over many centuries. The naming of places describes the topography, the rich resources of the area, important ancestors, events and traditions. The names are landmarks that remind us of the past histories.

Remnants of old pā sites, kainga and cultivations exist within the striations of history asking the user to engage with questions of what has occurred on the land before European settlement. The land itself acknowledges the past, drawing on history, creating an overlay between cultures. Remnants and marks left in the ground from settlement and occupation. Scratching the surface of a deep culture embedded in the land.

According to Māori creation and mythology it was Tāne that pushed his parents apart to create light so plants and animals could grow. After Tāne created food he created man. Tāne felt that man needed knowledge so he climbed the highest staircase to find the 3 baskets (kete) of knowledge.

The design intention is to recreate the enduring relationships between the tangata whenua which has become less visible over time. Education related to the different overlays of history form a key component of the design decisions. The concept of the Marae is a ceremonial space. The pathways start at the waharoa as you are greeted onto the site. The paths represent a loose weave of cultures, connection, people and land. The representation and remnants of a whare defines an important sacred place within the site. The user visually completes the form and structure from the bones of cultural memory.

Contains wisdom, building, arts and agriculture

1. Te Kete Uruuru tau aronui

2. Te Kete Uruuru Matua Tuauri Contains ancient rites and ceremonies

3. Te Kete Uruuru Rangi Tuatea Contains knowledge of incantations, war, magic, and the tradition which includes the history of the Māori people

Through design this is depicted as the stepped pattern, Poutama frequently used in Māori design. This can be observed in tukutuku panels, tāniko (bottom of kakahu), piupiu, waist bands, headbands, weaving, whāriki, and kete. Poutama symbolises genealogies and the various levels of learning and intellectual achievement. Some say they represent the steps which Tāne-o-te-Wānanga ascended to the topmost realm in his quest for superior knowledge and religion. 8

SACRED LANDSCAPES Natalie Couch NGĀTI TŪWHARETOA 3RD YEAR BLA Refer to page 120 for Footnotes



his essay explores Māori perspectives of land and how this relationship informs our design and planning processes. The ideas explored aim to illustrate the importance of expressing our traditional nurturing society through the shaping of our spaces. As Kawharu conveys, ‘ancestral landscapes provide a platform for fully considering cultural, political and social dimensions of place’


1.NGĀTI WHĀTUA O ŌRĀKEI, ‘KO TE PŪKĀKĪ’ WHENUA RANGATIRA, (BASTION POINT.) The design and implementation process of ‘Ko Te Pūkākī’ at Whenua Rangatira encapsulates the intrinsic values of Ngāti Whātua o Ōrākei in relation to health and longevity of land, and people simultaneously. 2.TE NOHO KOTAHITANGA, TE WHARE WĀNANGA O WAIRAKA, UNITEC. Te Noho Kotahitanga, Unitec marae, is an example of a tertiary led initiative that acknowledges the Treaty of Waitangi and its principles. Through this the integrity and safety of all students and staff are supported.


Whakapapa, whanaungatanga, and kaitiakitanga are concepts that are central to a Māori world view. These provide insights into the role and relationship between people and the land. (Jahnke 1997) The relationship with the earth links back through genealogical lines personified in this expression; “I ahu mai tātou i a Papatūānuku, whai muri i a ia ko Hineahuone i pokea e Tāne i te one ki Kurawaka”. We descend from the earth, our ancestress, Hineahuone was moulded by Tane from the sacred red earth at Kurawaka. This whakapapa (genealogy), signifies the intrinsic connection to the earth and ones place in that relationship. ‘Land was regarded by Māori as life itself.’ (Jahnke 1997) Māori cosmology and genealogy sees Māori not only ‘as the land’ but ‘of the land’ “ko au te whenua, ko te whenua ko au (I am the land and the land is me). In this, we are teina, the youngest in the conception of the world, with all other beings and elements are our tuakana, older siblings. All of our familial relationships therefore, extend back to the earth, personified as mother, as illustrated in the whakatauki. ‘Ko te whenua te wai-u mō ngā uri whakatipu.’ Land is allegorized as a woman who sustains her offspring with milk from her breast. This metaphor highlights the view that woman and land were perceived as fundamental to life. (Jahnke 1997). These values and practices that are deeply embedded in this connection and reverence for the land. Papatūānuku is sacred. ‘She has her own spiritual identity, her own life force, her own powerful authenticity.’ (Tuhiwai 2012) Whakapapa including Papa/kainga, Papa/whenua, and Papa/ tuanuku provides a process through which we can engage in a relationship with where we come from- home in a deep sense, and through that process bring it forward in our own processes and broaden it to the world. Our tipuna had a way of listening and observing the trees, the insects, birds and all the children of Rangi and Papa because they have been here much longer than us, and entering their spaces (their marae) required/s this kind of acknowledgement. This process was an informant for how they would be in that space. When the earth and sky were created, Papatūānuku was clothed in a beautiful cloak of forest that would protect her and her offspring. This is the ultimate design of Papatūānuku, the cosmological patterning that is kaitiakitanga in its essence. Whenua is the word for land, this further illustrates the personification of Papatūānuku as the source of nourishment and sustenance. ‘Whenua is also the word for placenta, the source of nourishment when the baby is growing in the womb’. (Barlow 1991) When the child is born, the placenta is ceremoniously buried in a special place, as a sign that they will continue to be nourished by Papatūānuku in life. ‘This act affirms the childs’ genealogical union with the land-whenua as tāngata whenua’. (Pere 1982, 1990)

Tino rangatiratanga is founded in the realities of whanaungatanga (relationships), whakapapa (connections to Rangi and Papa through ancestral lines), and kaitiakitanga that stem from a deep relationship with sacred and ancestral landscapes. Of paramount significance, is the responsibility to care for the environment as kaitiaki (custodians) for past, present, and future generations. We do not own the land but are of the land; the land and the wairua of Papatūānuku is as much an element within (the human person) as it is the external environment (Kereopa 2003). We share the same heartbeat. Kaitiakitanga, therefore, is part of reciprocal relationship developed from birth, it forms an integral part of human subsistence. Care and respect for the earth is essentially care and respect for oneself. ‘Rewriting and re-righting our position in history fills a very powerful need to restore a spirit, to bring back into existence a world fragmented and dying’. (Tuhiwai 2012). It is important that this cosmological narrative or patterning is acknowledged as a legitimate part of our design processes. In this is the acknowledgement of the fourth article of Te Tiriti, and the assertion of Rangatiratanga in the Declaration of Independence as a significant part of our collective story. As written in article 4 of Te Tiriti o Waitangi- spiritual freedom was to be protected. The sacred rights of Papatūānuku, Ranginui and their spiritual integrity was paramount. Respect for tangata whenua and the importance of giving space and time for dialogue with mana whenua when making decisions about any part of our landscapes is an important part of this process. Implementation of tikanga runs parallel to the restoration of mauri and regeneration of natural systems within landscapes and all living beings connected to them. The following examples show how whakapapa and whanaungatanga (familial relationships) informs design methodologies for ancestral and cultural landscapes.



Under the Ōrakei Act 1991, 48.16 hectares (Whenua Rangatira) was returned to Ngāti Whātua o Ōrākei. The Act established that kaitiakitanga must be recognised, and the land be maintained to an ecological standard. The whanau wanted the return of native forest for cultural harvest, food, and medicine. Ngāti Whātua o Ōrākei are currently facilitating the restoration of their ancestral lands at Takaparawhau (Bastion Point). Over the last 15 years 10,000-15,000 plants a year have been planted through the Ko Te Pūkākī programme. This is a community restoration project that enhances family connections, wider community relationships with one another and the landscape simultaneously. This process of regeneration sits alongside the papakāinga development that is being lead by hapū. Mātauranga Māori principles guide this process and were identified in wānanga, hui and workshops with hapū members. Decisions for the papakāinga were made by hapū members with broad guidelines given by facilitators on issues relating to Ōrākei. Conceptual

designs were drawn up with the assistance of the architect. Many of these concepts were pertaining to landscape features and the enhancement that these give to quality of life.

KAUPAPA -PRINCIPLES: KOTAHITANGA To encourage a sense of unity in the community. This includes an amphitheatre that enables the hapu to gather and celebrate their unique tribal identity. Kotahitanga or a ‘coming together’ is also achieved through the processes of environmental restoration. WAIRUATANGA Emotional connection to the environment. The orientation of the papakāinga captures the views of significant cultural landmarks, community access to marae, kohanga reo, kaumatua flats, and urupa is maintained; traditional place names are restored. MANAAKITANGA Hospitality given to visitors, community security is ensured. Traditional medicine (rongoaa) and kai gardens are restored, and the traditional palisade style is used to enhance community security WHANAUNGATANGA Community participation and membership is fostered. Communal facilities, open reserves, communal gardens, common spaces all reflect local identity. KAITIAKITANGA Protection of significant landscape features. On-site water management systems are used, recognition and protection of spiritual guardians, restoration of waterways and natural areas, communal reserves and natural environments are utilized by community living in higher density.

RANGATIRA Community takes the lead and responsibility in determining their own future. Live and work from home, mix use high-density living environments, heritage markers (pou).

The master plan developed by the Trust board adopts sustainable urban design principles that support hapu aspirations for economic, environmental and spiritual well -being of its members. It is to be revised every 5 years to ensure that it is still meeting with hapū aspirations. Features include: whenua rangatira- the open space where the native forest and streams are restored; appropriate buildings which could include ecological, eco-tourism, sports and leisure, or cultural centres; hapu housing is designed in a way that enables for around 6,000 whānau to eventually live on the papakāinga. THREE ADDITIONAL PRINCIPLES WERE IDENTIFIED BY AWATERE ET AL. (2008) MAURITANGA THE ESSENCE OR LIFE FORCE OF A NATURAL ENVIRONMENT (BARLOW, 1991; MEAD, 2003). At Ōrakei this is carried out by identifying and upholding the maintenance or renewal of mauri. This is being done in various ways including swales, rain-tanks, passive solar design systems, and grey-water recyclers. ORANGATANGA SUSTAINMENT OF COMMUNITY HEALTH AND WELLBEING. The aim is to promote the protection of the environment, and safety of the community. This includes restoration projects, ensuring the protection of and community access to traditional natural resources (e.g harakeke, tuna, waterways); encouraged use of walking, cycling paths by improved links between spaces, use of indigenous flora (public and private), and reliable public transport systems. MĀTAURANGA TRIBAL HISTORY, CHARACTER AND IDENTITY IS UNDERSTOOD. Knowledge is shared in an experiential manner which broadens understanding of tribal histories. This includes initiatives such as educational and environmental programmes, heritage markers (pou), and heritage trails.

‘Ko Te Pūkākī’ Ecological Restoration Programme, Ngāti Whātua Õrakei community planting days, Bastion Point, Ōrakei.


The processes involved in this project connect people to place. The design is the act of kaitiakitanga in its true sense- in this case, the return of the korowai (the rich and diverse ecosystems) that breathe life into that space and improve health and well-being of its people. The uplifting of mauri and nurturing of relationships are integral design drivers. “The tūpuna have walked the path before us, their footprints tell a story, and we can sustain the environment and the well-being of our people by tracing these footprints once more and uplifting them into a contemporary context...... This methodology is embedded in the concept of belonging and being of a place.” (Badham 2011)

TE NOHO KOTAHITANGA, TE WHARE WĀNANGA O WAIRAKA, UNITEC. The second example ‘Te Noho Kotahitanga’ is an urban based marae situated within Unitec Institute of Technology, Mount Albert. ‘This marae was the result of a partnership document called ‘Te Noho Kotahitanga’ established in 2001 to voice Unitec’s commitment to the Treaty of Waitangi. It supports Unitec’s desire of honouring the treaty and implementing bi-cultural education within its research and teaching. The lines between Landscape Architecture and Architecture become blurred when the buildings are very much synonymous with the land. Te Noho Kotahitanga marae is the first in almost a century that has been built in the more traditional manner. When master carver, Lionel Grant, began the design process for the whare, he went up above to get a birds eye view of the landscape. In his observation he saw the form of a manaia (a bird-like figure/ spiritual guardian) in the land signifying the design layout of the buildings. At this time, Puukenga was already there- built using affordable materials in 1993 by students as a student initiated project with the architect, Rewi Thompson. It initially housed the Māori School of Education which was disestablished in 2006 and became the student support center that it is today. Te reo Māori and weaving classes were then dispersed into other areas within Unitec. Alongside Puukenga, Ngākau Mahaki (the meeting house), and Manaaki (the dining hall) form the manaia (spiritual guardian) connecting the elements. The marae atea being the tongue, Ngākau Mahaki the head, Manaaki the stomach and Puukenga the hips down.

Rangimarie (the pa harakeke) is named after the first weaver to koha (gift) a plant, Rangimarie Hetet. Following this, different varieties were gifted from iwi around the motu. This pa harakeke is a living taonga with diverse harakeke varieties gifted by some of Aotearoa’s finest tohunga raranga (master weavers). Te Inu Roa o Wairaka (The long drink of Wairaka) is a fresh water spring named after Wairaka (the ancestress of the Mataatua waka). On her travels, Wairaka became thirsty and stamped her foot into the ground in order to quench her thirst. As a result, water burst forth creating this spring today which has become highly valued for ceremony, healing and blessing. Traditionally it was a constant source of food, irrigation, and a place for bathing. This place is a storehouse of local and historical knowledge, a meeting place for ceremonial and celebratory gatherings, and the heart of teaching and learning about te ao Māori.

THE FOUNDING PRINCIPLES OF TE NOHO KOTAHITANGA ARE: RANGATIRATANGA-AUTHORITY AND RESPONSIBILITY Unitec accepts that Maori have responsibility for and authority over all teaching and learning of Matauranga Maori. WAKARITENGA- LEGITIMACY Each partner has the legitimate right to be here, to express themselves freely in either language, and to make accessible the use of its resources for the benefit of all. KAITIAKITANGA-GUARDIANSHIP Unitec acknowledges its responsibility as an essential guardian of knowledge. MAHI KOTAHITANGA-CO-OPERATION Unitec asserts that generosity and co-operation will be the founding intentions behind its actions. Each partners’ heritage and customs, current needs and future aspirations are valued by Unitec. Māori and Pākehā work together within Unitec.

The aim of this project was to look at how our connection to land influences a way of being and how this contributes to the shaping of our processes in Landscape Architecture. Two projects were examined which illustrate how Māori values and tikanga have been an intrinsic part of their planning and design processes and how these values benefit the whole community. A focus was to explore relationships between our narratives, natural processes and patterns and their interconnection with kaitiakitanga and design. ‘I nga wa o mua’ expresses that in order to go forward, I must understand my past. To enable a sustainable future we must bring back the traditional nurturing society that sustained us. As Tāne sought the place to fashion his hoa rangatira (partner), Hine ahu one, from the body of his mother, he was guided by Papatūānuku to the sacred red earth at Kurawaka. This paradigm demonstrates a collaborative process between Papatūānuku and her offspring. The relationship with land brought about the shaping of the human body and place simultaneously. Whanaungatanga and kaitiakitanga principles acknowledge that the places and spaces within land,air,water-scapes, of both Rangi and Papa are all sacred, and are as much a part of us, as we are of them. Our original, and the ultimate rain-gardens, recycling systems, food cupboards, medicine cabinets, learning and play spaces, and transport routes are all housed in the forests, rivers, and oceans- the vital organs of Papatūānuku. We don’t need to redesign these systems, they are already the ultimate design. They have their own inherent spiritual validity that is deeply connected to our collective identity and well-being.



vision was shared by Ngāti Korokī Kahukura with the Unitec students who would complete the plans in creating a sustainable environment with the means to protect, restore and enhance their own landscape narrative. This vision provided an opportunity to work alongside a culture that has formed an intimate relationship with the landscape over generations. The aim was to produce a concept that harnessed the ecological and cultural restoration of the sacred puna - spring and stream which connects to the Tūpuna Awa - Waikato River to the marae. This approach not only had aspirations to reflect the intimate relationship tangata whenua have with the land but also recognised the importance of forming an intergenerational landscape that promotes the values of kaitiakitanga. Limited funding in acquiring the surrounding landscape once held under Ngāti Korokī Kahukura placed significance in attaining particular parts of the landscape over others. Project 1 comprised of an analysis at a regional scale to realise opportunities present when acquiring land for economic gains and at the same time attempted to draw out the values of kaitiakitanga. Identifying the historical relationship maintained between Mt Maungatautari, Tūpuna Awa and Ngāti Korokī Kahukura promoted the importance of re-purposing parts of the landscape to endorse values recognized through kaitiakitanga. This would influence placement when establishing ecological restoration sites when the property was acquired. Through Project 1 a cultural theme had emerged, providing a direction for projects 2 & 3; Hauora. This concept is based on a whare, all four walls of a whare represent all four dimensions of Hauora, since they influence and support the other and do not function in isolation. The four dimensions identified are Taha Tinana - Physical Well-Being, Taha Hinengaro - Mental and Emotional Well-Being, Taha Whanau - Social Well-Being and Taha Wairua - Spiritual well-being. This formed the a base of the conceptual idea and the strategy plan has been adapted to be more specific to Papatuanuku, the land, the mother of all things, who nourishes all life. She is the foundation, She is the physical and spiritual basis of life, Her well-being is important.


THE FOUR FEATURES IDENTIFIED WITHIN HAUORA HAD BEEN ADAPTED TO REFLECT THOSE VALUES INFLUENCING THE OUTCOME OF THE FINAL PROJECT. TAHA TINANA - PHYSICAL: ECONOMIC WELL-BEING The long term goal of having a diversified type of economy for Pohara Marae forms a sustainable future that isn’t solely relying on dairy and small pockets of short-rotational crops currently occupying the surrounding landscape. This is achieved through planting 400 fruit trees, harvesting existing pine nuts and establishing a flax plantation that is farmed for weaving. TAHA


The restoration of the existing waterway through riparian planting, restoring a once thriving eco-system. This will restore an environment favourable for the treasured eel TAHA WHANAU - SOCIAL: ECOLOGICAL WELL-BEING Re-vegetation of surrounding hillsides, providing bank stabilization and reducing sedimentation into the stream and Waikato River. This action will influence an increase in biodiversity within the local environment. TAHA WAIRUA - SPIRITUAL: CULTURAL WELL-BEING Looking at the essence of the landscape and using the value of views to influence placement of a viewing platform atop the surrounding cliffs and a line of sight that runs parallel with the meeting house and point of welcoming.

With a project of such a large scale, and some aspects of the project quite labour intensive for the residing tangata whenua to manage themselves, a concept was put forward on how the existing Papakainga housing could be extended. Two types of housing had been identified to suit the different situations; 8x10m units were suggested for permanent tangata whenua that live on the marae while 3x3m units were suggested for outside tangata whenua who wished to stay longer than a few days but no longer than a month, leaving the wharenui free for manuhiri - visitors. This approach was established to assist the residing tangata whenua in completing not only short-term labour intensive tasks but long term seasonal work that provides an opportunity for non-residing tangata whenua to play their part in forming a sustainable environment for both human and natural ecologies. This approach also provides an opportunity for knowledge to be passed down between the generations while allowing everyone to remain connected to their whakapapa.




A JOURNEY THROUGH A LANDSCAPES WELL-BEING One key requirement was to protect the sensitivity of the local Puna, which lies to the North West of the Marae. The proposed design saw a native designed board-walk reflecting the surrounding Phormium, mimicking the stream beneath, leading towards the Puna. The decking boards were placed in a hatched manner, weaving its way along the elevated bridge. Meandering tracks lay adjacent to this board-walk however, where used as a guideline and promoted self-discovery, capturing one’s own image of the landscape.

The overall brief of the Studio project was to protect, restore and recreate a landscape that reflects the narrative of the Ngati Koroki Kahukura people. Split into 3 projects, starting at a broad scale down to particular design features, the goal was to incorporate the brief in all design moves. Hauora was the concept that was applied to the work, encompassing the spiritual, social, physical and the emotional .

The second requirement was to promote re-vegetation of the surrounding landscape and provide a corridor to the local Maunga. This was proposed through an education forest which started with a comprehensive understanding of hydrology, plant growth, avian relationships and flora species that held value to the iwi. Overall, this created protection from surrounding land production and a process of filtration and direction that protect the new narrative of Pohara.


estled amongst the foothills of Maungatauturi, Pohara Marae links the wider connections of the Waikato, Kaipiro, Awapuni, Cambridge and further afield, Raglan. The landscape is a spectacular snapshot of the influence of volcanic activity from Lake Taupo (Mt Taupo at the time), Mangakino and erosional scaring of the Waikato River. Land production in the early 1800’s depleted the native vegetation of the landscape and culture and heritage was becoming lost in European, economic power.






Luke Veldhuizen 4TH YEAR BLA

ould a future Wynyard Point prove to be an effective and compelling staging ground to host varied temporary, semipermanent, and permanent installations, both exotic and indigenous, of local, national, and international origin? Extending into the Waitemata, the future development of Wynyard Point has some approximately 40,000 square metres currently provisioned for park space, which naturally leads to asking how or what might go there? Over the last year I have been looking at the whole future Wynyard Point in terms of solar regimes, generating geometries and distributions based on their resulting microclimatic results and including massing morphologies, growing canopy structures, and ground-plane pattern variations. To the north the expanse of indicated green presents us with options. Looking into the geometries of motion we see wide arcing patterns in the hourly, daily, seasonal, and annual voyage of our sun, what someone once summed as “Motion with shadows and shafts of light oscillating over time�. Further investigation led to using these moving shafts of light and shade in micro-climatically considering the public realm. Through careful distribution of installations and structures, and a thorough examination of where shadows, hotspots, and micro-climatic conditions lie, other elements can be arranged, for example seating in both shaded and sunny spaces, and the optimised location of plant species. The intention of this distribution being the resulting multiple paths connecting pockets of spaces as flat lawn, sophisticated mounds, rain-garden vegetation, shading trees, and installations; a non-linear landscape is created through the diffused vectors of horizontal movement through a continuous and patched surface. And from this surface? Views to some of the our most iconic, beloved, and revered cultural landmarks. The Auckland harbour bridge to the North-West arcing into the city, and to the North-East Rangitoto itself looming large in perspective above Devonport. Views with stories of history past, views of infrastructure and


progress, a city skyline, an isthmus of cones. A city where clay and steel intersect, where stone, timber, and water meet with concrete, glass, and movement. Who might we expect could benefit from such a series of installations or events? Everyone. From international visitors to local inhabitants, those from wider Auckland to those from wider New Zealand. In creating a destination, itself one where some of its parts change over time, we have a dynamic focal point for voices and stories to be told. Both at once an economic driver as a destination and as a showcase to the world of mÄ ori and indigenous design, their stories and artistic representation. A jewel in the crown of the Auckland waterfront. In thinking about these ideas together with Divergence: defining difference through design, it could be argued Wynyard Point is the perfect Auckland location as a landscape for the interconnected stories of the people are told through art, woven throughout the park, each connected to one another, all offering viewpoints through various lenses of representation. Art is a reflection of who we are as a people, all of us western and indigenous, with those stylistic differences at once defining and articulating what is design all the more sharply.




treams that weave between developed areas are often neglected and polluted. It is overlooked that these sensitive environments are habitats for a variety of wildlife and urbanisation is putting increasing pressure on these ecologies. Swanson Stream bisects the suburbs of Henderson and Massey in West Auckland and is part of the large-scale stream restoration incentive; Project Twin Streams, which focuses on restoring the local health of the stream through community effort by increasing riparian cover. However with over 12 years of riparian enhancement there has been no significant improvement in stream health. Local streams continue to be seen as waste conduits. Dense riparian vegetation can also isolate the streams from the public open spaces through which they flow, further disconnecting the streams from the local community. So perhaps the traditional approach to stream restoration of increasing vegetation density in riparian margins alone cannot stand up to the pressures of urbanisation. This project aims to explore how current stream restoration techniques can be strengthened by an exploration into biomimicry and keying into social networks. Biomimesis aims to find time-tested solutions to human challenges, by analysing how nature has dealt with them, providing the potential to re-think stream restoration techniques. A biomimetic approach seeks to devise solutions based on naturally occurring systems and processes; challenging human interventions to be integrated into the ecosystem. It promises a more sustainable future; efficient use of resources and the potential to change the approach to design. However the concept contrasts humanity with nature, often excluding “human nature” from the solution, resulting in interventions that do not reflect human culture. Landscape Architecture, a field that deals directly with landscape and people has the potential to bridge the gap between biomimicry and humanity by integrating “human nature”, thus facilitating the human aspect within biomimetic design. Biomimicry as an approach to design, combined with an exploration of social networks, community needs and perceptions, provides the capacity to explore design responses that achieve both ecological and social functions; taking inspiration from the natural world and keying into human nature; the needs, the history and

the cultures of the local people. Through localised interventions that reflect the community and the history of the landscape while enhancing the existing ecology, a biomimetic solution has the means to reconnect people with nature through restoration efforts. Woodside Reserve and Helena Park, bordering Swanson Stream, were the sites chosen to explore these opportunities. Tucked away from the road, the spaces host a community garden and waterhole, both underutilized, both with potential for greater community engagement. The space is proposed to be a community attraction, an escape and a productive landscape. How can biomimesis help strengthen current stream restoration methods and serve as a tool to bring people into the space, engage with it and care for it? Polluted stormwater runoff discharged directly into the stream and rubbish dumping are the key issues that affect the health of these waterways and surrounding environment. The design approach aims to increase public awareness and suggest interventions that directly target pollutants entering these waterways. Waterborne pollutants in the stream are addressed through floating vegetation islands with plants that absorb contaminants. Stormwater drains are daylighted and water is redirected through the site via phytoremediation gardens, filtering water through plant uptake by manuka, sunflowers and carex, before it is further and finally filtered at the riparian margins. The project aims to reconnect people with the stream by providing a community destination around the existing waterhole and community gardens, improving and enhancing access to these areas. It is designed to provide a community attraction with aims of changing the community’s perception of the stream environment; discouraging rubbish dumping and encouraging interaction. Access to the waterhole has been created with space to swim, sit or observe. Biomimesis, an example of divergent thinking, opens up a multitude of innovative response ideas inspired by the natural world, but with an addition of “human nature” has the potential to fulfil both ecological and social functions, striving to be the design approach of the future.



Gabrielle Howdle 4TH YEAR BLA

mergent culture, design, mana, history; and the foundations that they help create to allow for divergent thinking. Traditionally landscape design has accommodated to the conventional, the conservative and the conformed, often ignoring the deeper meanings and importance written into landscapes over time - as people come, go, settle and explore. Subsequently somewhere along the line we agreed that this was what New Zealand culture summated to, a collection of ‘traditional-shaped’ parks and open spaces, which at the surface hold little contextual meaning, relevance or value. However glimmers of divergent design, indigenous interpretation and unique projects appear within New Zealand; places like Orongo Station in Poverty Bay, or the recently constructed Kopupaka Park in the developing North West shopping precinct, both initiating themselves into indigenous and divergent design. The challenge arises when a landscape is affluent in its history and diverse in its cultural palette. How can one landscape reflect the relationship with its indigenous culture and its adopted culture, both rich in significance and importance? Undeniably this is bound to occur in a country with a rich diversity in cultures, especially in places that are valued for their unique landscape qualities. Therefore how can places such as these evolve to become more viable, valuable and culturally dexterous? With the planning of intensification of suburban areas, the dynamics of suburban life are changing and evolving, and therefore so is the way people occupy, use and appreciate public open space within their suburbs. The idea that an urban space can reflect its historical value and cultural sensitivities but suburban spaces must conform to suburban needs has meant that suburban parks are perhaps not evolving, changing and pushing the boundaries of design as well as could be; and are thus being overlooked.


The exploration of public open space established that there was a lack of quality and viable public open spaces within the suburbs, where 30% of spaces are Recreational Facilities, another 30% are dedicated to pocket parks, and that open spaces makes up about 12%; predominately these are all open spaces. Knowing that these spaces are integral places within suburban communities, the notion that they are undervalued and underutilised is perplexing. Therefore, how can landscape architects help to create more meaningful spaces in our suburbs? It starts with respecting the history and form of the landscape, understanding the affect it has had upon its people, and the effect the people have had on the place. Harold Moody Recreation Ground within Glen Eden boasts cultural diversity, with a history of indigenous and Dalmatian cultures; both recognising the value of the land for its agricultural values. Both parties contributed to the history of the site and its contextual surroundings, with families and communities settling within Glen Eden as the Indigenous grew crops, subsequent with the Dalmatian’s establishing orchards. This is where the project finds its footing, balancing the sites rich cultural and historical foundations, with the current needs of the ever-growing community. The project itself strives to be a suburban park with purpose, connections, history, and aesthetics that have the potential to create a dynamic, viable and valuable public open space network within Glen Eden. The design aims to create a central open space- to which auxiliary public open spaces build upon, which are dynamic, loose-fit and allow for informal and formal uses. This is achieved through bold moves and large spaces. The space retains its current sports orientated foundation, and builds upon this with heritage species

orchards, stormwater control through intensive planting, stream restoration, and community event space for markets, gala’s, and other organised activities. The design is an example of how a site can begin to blend two cultures whilst being divergent in its design. The design expresses large forms, expressive angles and strict landscape changes, which are diverse, dynamic and diverge from the traditional design characteristics found in suburban parks. The space in turn tries to find the balance between divergence and convergence; stitching the sites rich and evolving history into a design, which clearly illuminates the different and similar effects the people had upon this place. The site layers the needs of the people, the place, the history, and the surrounding public open spaces, which allows for a network to be formed; the needs and the values of all the sites within the open space network benefit and enhance the value to the community; weaved together with the fronds of seeds planted by both indigenous and exotic peoples.




n particular with interest in the suburb of Glen Innes. The goal of this negotiated study is to provide a space that will educate and enhance the health and wellbeing of Glen Innes and the wider community through landscape architecture. Through theoretical analysis I found there are people that will always spend time outdoors and exercise and there are some people that never will, however there is a large proportion of people in between and our healthy designed landscapes should be focused towards them. This portion of the community that have habits that can be swayed quite easily; changes just need to be provided in order to encourage an adjustment to their daily habits. Throughout this design process I have looked into Te Aranga Māori Design Principles to explore indigenous issues and the relationship held between culture and landscape, I have thoroughly considered these principles when looking at plant species, creating view shafts, and contacting Ngāti Whātua o Ōrākei regarding my work. I have begun to investigate 16A Rowena Crescent in Glen Innes, a site within the Tamaki precinct. The site is owned by Ngāti Whātua and was formally Tamaki Girls College. 16a Rowena Crescent has an immediate impact on most maps, with it being next to Omaru Stream, which is not only a significant ecological corridor but is also a substantial water system, the stream also has huge significance to the mana whenua in the area. This design consists of three areas that promote heath and wellbeing, the creative play area (pink), the active recreation area (blue) and the edible and medicinal vegetated hill. I have ensured my site is well connected to the wider landscape with key entry points following on from existing flow paths. The main path through the site has been established to connect with the existing walkway from Wimbledon reserve to Taniwha Street, and through to Maybury Reserve. Another key entry point is from the existing pedestrian crossing on the east side of the site. The roundabout in the North Eastern corner provides a great view and visual connection point to the site and will help to draw people in. This project highlights the importance of how landscapes can be beneficial to a community and have a positive impact to their health and wellbeing, while also connecting to, and enhancing the wider landscape through cultural connections.






A DELICATE BALANCING ACT Dr. Hamish Foote & Pete Griffiths Dr. Hamish Foote, DocFA, Lecturer, Unitec Institute of Technology Pete Griffiths, MLA, BLA, Program Leader at Unitec Refer to page 120 for Footnotes

This paper examines a bicultural approach to the development of planting strategies for landscapes and asks the question: In what ways can vegetation help to create a bicultural landscape? The case studies discussed include planting and design directives that are divergent in nature, however perhaps they can also help to demonstrate togetherness.

Christchurch Botanical Gardens Visitor Centre landscape scheme - early drawing exploring the concepts of collection, ordering and display of exotic species in the context of a native riparian setting




lteration and change are words that seem to be prevalent in the development of urban, rural and residential areas; re-prints of current and past habitation are now, more than ever, important drivers for design. ‘The contemporary city is no longer the product of a single thought or plan…but rather the diffuse result of successive layers of decisions’.1 In Auckland one of the factors driving change is an on going discussion relating to ‘togetherness’, or to be more precise, the increasing awareness around a bicultural society. This is happening in conjunction with exponential growth and its associated inevitable pressures, for example, the need for adequate housing options, increased transport infrastructure and the demand on existing public open space. However, perhaps more importantly, within this urbanisation model, there is significant need for strengthening regional sustainability and biodiversity. Critical writing around the term sustainability routinely includes environmental, social and cultural concerns. In his book Building Ecology 2 Peter Graham, Lecturer in Architecture at the University of New South Wales, describes the interconnectedness of people, custom, and place as necessary components of understanding sustainability, ‘The key to understanding ecology is the knowledge that all elements of the system, whether living or non-living are interdependent. Understanding interdependency shifts the emphasis for learning from the components of the system to the relationships between components…’3 Graham alludes to the notion of our ‘greater self ’4 as being mindful about the communities of humans that the actions of the design disciplines affect. This idea links to a deeper understanding of why vegetative strategies for particular places, have more than a purely scientific outcome associated with biodiversity. It could be argued that a divergent planting strategy, made up of exotics and natives (species that are deeply entwined within place) have the ability to be physical manifestations of a conversation that delves into cultural heritage, racism, and in New Zealand, issues of Treaty, settlement, ownership and people.

In the development of a bicultural landscape, then, planting strategies can perhaps deliver more than just the dichotomy of exotics vs. natives and become catalysts for a commentary associated with togetherness. LEGISLATIVE FRAMEWORK In this highly charged environment, landscape related policies and legislation become facilitator, both a shield and sword, and in some sense enable togetherness. In 1992 the Department of Conservation adopted the Convention on Biological Diversity, which recognises that, “…for the first time in international law… the conservation of biological diversity is “a common concern of humankind”. The agreement covers all ecosystems, species, and genetic resources’.7 The Resource Management Act (1991) is the first piece of legislation in New Zealand to make sustainable management a clear duty of government. One of the intentions of the RMA is to achieve an integrated management of natural and physical resources. The act defines natural and physical resources, “as land, water, air, soil, mineral, and energy, all forms of plants and animals (whether native to New Zealand or introduced)”.8 The combination of native and exotics involves a delicate balancing act. Legislation aims to protect New Zealand’s indigenous flora and fauna whilst seeking to preserve local character species. The latter are often described as ‘iconic landscape features’ many of which are exotic in nature. Immigrants to New Zealand planted vegetation from their homeland in an attempt to alleviate the loneliness of relocation in an alien environment. The resultant landscapes are often referred to as neo-European.9 The Queenstown Lakes District Council District Tree Policy addresses this typology, The Lakes District has many introduced trees, which were planted by early settlers and now form an integral part of Central Otago iconic landscapes. Examples are the Lombardy poplars… the Sycamores and Rowans…[and the] willows. These introduced trees need to be managed on a long-term basis the length of which is governed by the expected life of the species involved. This could be up 150 years.10

Corroborating this somewhat loose idea, Trigger and Mulcock of The University of Western Australia, explain in their paper Native vs. Exotic: cultural discourses about flora, fauna and belonging in Australia,5

In concert with these considerations the balancing of cultural factors are becoming increasingly prominent. To acknowledge and address these the development of the Te Aranga Design Principles and their subsequent inclusion in the Auckland Design Manual are an attempt to further strengthen a political agenda around a bicultural Auckland.

Environmental debates about which plant and animal species ‘belong’ in particular locations have a growing significance around the world…ideas about which species constitute weeds or pests and how those species should be managed can be strongly grounded in cultural values and beliefs.6

The key objective of the principles is to enhance the protection, reinstatement, development, and articulation of mana whenua cultural landscapes enabling all of us (mana whenua, mataawaka, tauiwi and manuhiri) to connect to and deepen our ‘sense of place’.11



CASE STUDIES NATIVE REVEGETATION WITH EXOTIC COUNTERPOINTS – HUNT ROAD, CATLINS The Hunt Road project is located in a small rural community in the South Eastern most corner of the South Island of New Zealand. The site provides the program for the design intervention. The expansive, at times harsh, large-scale characteristics of the region and the muted tones and rugged materiality of the native landscape, provide the backdrop for a ‘matrix’ style planting strategy. In this case normative riparian planting and native bush regeneration species provide a matrix into which other plants are inserted. The matrix includes native riparian planting, comprised of Carex secta (sedge), Carex virgata, Carex maorica, Carex tenuiculmis, Opodasmia similis (oioi), Chionochloa ovata (tufted snow grass), Chionochloa oreophylla, Olearia bullata, and Cordyline australis (cabbage tree) and forest species such as Dacrycarpus cupressinum (rimu), Dacrycarpus dacrydioides (kahikatea), Prumnopitys ferruginea (miro), Prumnopitys taxifolia (mātai), and Podocarpus totara, Metrosideros umbellata (Southern rātā), Weinmannia racemosa (kāmahi), and Sophora microphylla (kōwhai).

As a counterpoint to these endemic New Zealand species there are grid planted blocks of flowering exotic vegetation, which include Cornus ‘Eddie’s white wonder’ or Cornus ‘Greenvale’ (dogwoods), Cornus ‘Satomi’ (pink), Rhododendron bibiani (red), Rhododendron ‘Maketa’s Prize’ (scarlet red), and Rhododendron ‘White Pearl’ (white and pink). This planting technique creates a hybrid landscape that references both indigenous history and aspects of European influence. The planting scheme pays homage to the client’s long colonial ancestry in the region, whilst assuaging a deep-seated need to acknowledge the indigenous beauty of the site. The scheme is designed to provoke discourse around the idea of ‘belonging’ what species belongs where and to whom does the contextual landscape belong? In this case the planting also serves to raise issues of culturally formed notions of identity and place, issues to do with hybridisation and the emergence of new mixed forms of cooperation. The planting scheme goes beyond plants for plants sake, and attempts to challenge the structure of conditions in which things occur. It confronts the way in which an ethno botanic situation can be identified, marginalised or assimilated.

Hunt Road, Catlins. Large scale residential landscape scheme - a journey through a series of native and exotic accents in the context of a native revegetation program 90
















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Hunt Road, Catlins. Large scale residential landscape scheme - a formal grouping of black beech (Nothofagus solandri var. solandri) marks thecommencement of the journey, which concludes at the house adjacent to an orchard of exotic fruit trees TRANSITION FROM EXOTIC TO NATIVE – ARNOLD STREET, GREY LYNN Located in Grey Lynn Park (named after British Colonial Governor Sir George Grey (1812-1898)) are a number of exotic plants that form a starting point for the landscape scheme: a transition from exotic to native. The proposition takes advantage of the close adjacency to the park by drawing out species Betula pendula (silver birch) from the park and suggesting ‘guerrilla’ planting of these on the roadside bunds. From the folds of the front garden through to the rear of the property there is an evolution from exotic species to natives, which create links with neighbouring properties where there are stands of significant native specimen trees. In collaboration with the client, a mix of exotic species were selected: Leucanthemum x superbum (Shasta daisy), Digitalus purpurea ‘Alba’ (white foxgloves), Papaver somniferum (opium poppy), Foeniculum vulgare ‘Purpurescens’ (bronze fennel), Nigella damascena (love in a mist), Rosa ‘Ripples’ – floribunda, Reseda oderata (mignonette). Closer to the house there is an architectonic approach in the form of a clipped Podocarpus totara

(tōtara) hedge. Natives included in the scheme were: Coprosma kirkii, Muehlenbeckia astonii, Corokia x virgata ‘frosted chocolate’ and Coprosma viricens. The divergent range of flora and fauna in this design approach reflects universal issues. The disappearance of indigenous species and the impact of on-going globalisation is a matter of worldwide interest and concern. Alfred Crosby addresses the issues in Ecological Imperialism: The Biological Expansion of Europe, 900 – 190013. In New Zealand, issues relating to exotic and indigenous species and the environmental impact of their arrival and departure have also been given considerable attention. Crosby’s principles are demonstrated, in, for example, Ngā Uruora (The Groves of Life), Ecology and History in New Zealand14 by Geoff Park; in the late Keith Sinclair’s book A Destiny Apart: New Zealand’s search for Identity15, and in, Aotearoa and New Zealand: A historical geography by Alan Grey16. The inclination to create Neo-European landscapes by colonial migrants, as demonstrated in Central Otago, is a recurring theme in the aforementioned texts.17



The Arnold Street planting scheme inverts this phenomenon. Native vegetation is reinstated amongst an historical contextual backdrop of exotic specimen trees. This demonstrates a new hybridity arising from New Zealand’s modern eclectic culture. The strategy in which, the plants transition from exotic to native, in waves and folds, is derived from the idea that landscapes, in addition to being a product of culture, have the power to be a cultural construct.

Landscapes are as much a reflection of the way people consider their place in the world as they are an aesthetic encounter, The commonplace aspects of contemporary landscapes, the streets and houses…can tells us a great deal about history and society; about how we see ourselves and how we relate to the world. Such vernacular landscapes, or ‘landscapes of the everyday’ are fluid identified with local custom, pragmatic adaption to circumstances, and unpredictable mobility.18

Arnold Street, Grey Lynn. Above - concept drawing illustrating the relationship between the exotics of Grey Lynn Park to the left and a transition to an accumulation of natives to the right. Below - planting plan

A CULTURAL LANDSCAPE – UNITEC CAMPUS19 The proposed scheme, which incorporates a blend of exotic and native vegetation, is a response to the unique qualities of both Unitec the institution and the culturally shared landscape context. The two defining elements of culture and nature have been identified and harnessed in order to meet educational, business and residential demands and provide amenity, interest and permeability. Te Ao Māori provides an overarching and enriching dimension at Unitec. Te Noho Kotahitanga20, the partnership document, acknowledges manu whenua and expresses Unitec’s commitment to the Treaty of Waitangi; the Poutama21 embeds mātauranga Māori in the living curriculum; Te Aranga Design Principles guide Unitec’s design strategy and help to ensure the development of high quality and durable relationships with iwi and hapū; the sacred spring on campus, Te Wai Unuroa o Wairaka, is a galvanising and magnetic entity. Pukenga, Te Wharekai Manaaki and Te Noho Kotahitanga Marae are physical manifestations of this commitment and the importance of New Zealand’s unique cultural dimension to Unitec.

Collectively these entities form the campuses cultural heart. The Mt Albert site is renowned for its landscape. Vegetation and water are defining qualities. The arboretum includes 200 different exotic and native species of plants and trees; the Mahi Whenua ‘Hortecology’ Sanctuary houses the community garden and food forest; a large wetland dominates the central campus; riparian planting accompanies Wairaka Stream on its travels from spring to the sea. This verdant and watery character is amplified by spectacular views of the Waitakere Ranges, the upper harbour and the close proximity to Oakley Creek Te Auaunga (whirlpool or swirling waters) on the western edge. In light of this potent and unique intersection of culture and nature, exotic and native, an opportunity exists to provide a planting strategy that strengthens this intersection. At the heart of the campus is the Wairaka Stream, with its existing riparian vegetation and culturally sacred significance. Acting as a backdrop to this is the Victorian tenet of an arboretum. Embedded within these two overarching existing conditions are a number of culturally derived more subtle typologies, for example, the sacred Pā Harakeke (flax, Phormium tenax, plantation), and the repeated use of the Metrosideros excelsa (pōhutukawa).

Unitec Campus - proposed Wairaka Stream promenade


Unitec Campus - proposed ceremonial entrance across the Wairaka Stream to Te Noho Kotahitanga Marae The proposed scheme draws on the single species massed planting idea, found in the Pā Harakeke, and develops this through the use of significant stands of Dacrycarpus dacrydioides (kahikatea) around the riparian areas and repeated, large stands of native Agathis australis (kauri) lending the Eastern edge grandeur, interest and a sense of arrival. The mass planting of this iconic tree has a sound environmental rationale - as kauri dieback19 ravages the species in its natural habitat, it is a form of survival insurance. In the manner of Piet Oudolf, distinguished planting designer, who states, “every [plant] name I see is a face”22 when he talks of the plants he choses for his designs, the species in this case (the iconic kauri and the towering kahikatea) conjure up cultural memories and associations. The kauri with its primeval timeless magnificence, yet fragile and threatened existence due to its colonial devastation, and the more recent threat of disease, is used in order to remind us of the unique beauty of a past time. And the Kahikatea, seen in brooding clumps across the Waikato planes, reminding us of the ecological importance of vegetation and also a pre-European history. Artist George Foster (17451794), who sailed with Captain James Cook, observed there were, ‘…antediluvian forests [and] numerous rills of water…transformed into a sward of sun- parched English pasture….'23


The clumps of Kahikatea are a reminder of what is lost and what once was. The campus itself is a place for people, a place steeped in cultural history. The idea that there are ‘cultural keystone species’, that is, “plants...that form the contextual underpinnings of a culture”24is at the forefront of the scheme. Ann Garibaldi principle at Integral Ecology Group and Nancy Turner, Trudeau Fellow at the University of Victoria, in their paper Cultural Keystone Species explain, ‘Just as certain species of plants or animals appear to exhibit a particularly large influence on the ecosystem they inhabit, the same is true in social systems. We have termed these organisms “cultural keystone species” and define them as the culturally salient species that shape in a major way the cultural identity of a people, as reflected in the fundamental roles these species have in diet, materials, medicine, and/or spiritual practices'25 And, ‘Unlike ecological keystones, whose identity hinges on the expected ecological influence of a species relative to its biomass, the main criterion for a cultural keystone species is its key role in defining cultural identity...'26

UNBALANCED The aforementioned schemes demonstrate a relatively straightforward, although for some still contentious , negotiation between naturalised exotics and native vegetation. An example, which is unbalanced, establishes the more extreme end of the spectrum where the exotic/native intersection has negative ramifications. What happens when divergence involves the accidental introduction of an invasive species? In 2015 a small population of the Queensland fruit fly (Bactrocera tryoni) was found in the Auckland suburb of Grey Lynn. Queensland fruit fly [a native of Australia] is one of the most damaging fruit fly pests as it infests more than 100 species of fruit and vegetables. Hosts include commercial crops such as avocado, citrus, feijoa, grape, peppers, persimmon, pipfruit, and summerfruit. If this fly were to establish here, it would have serious consequences for New Zealand’s horticultural industry.28 There could also be serious consequences for New Zealand’s endemic flora and fauna.

For example, the following interdependent community of species could be under threat: the endemic taraire tree (Beilschmiedia tarairi); the endangered and endemic kererū (Hemiphaga novaeseelandiae) that feed on and disperse taraire fruit; and the lichen Strigula novae-zealandiae, which is found only on taraire. Literature on the impact of larvae on avian food sources is divided: ‘Avian seed dispersers have been shown to reject fruits infested by insect frugivores, disadvantaging plant fitness by reducing seed dispersal (Manzur and Courtney 1984, Krischik et al. 1989, Traveset 1993, Garcia 1998, Garcia et al. 1999)'.29 ‘… fruit infested by insect frugivores may attract vertebrate frugivores because infested fruits are more nutritious (Piper 1986, Drew 1988). Brown pigeons (Macropygia amboinensis) a major consumer of, and seed disperser for wild tobacco (Solanum mauritianum), were suggested to selectively forage for fruits infested with Bactrocera cacuminata larvae (Drew 1987).'30 Certainly, it is known that larvae infested fruit are prone to accelerated ripening and fall to the ground. Whist kererū occasionally feed on the ground arboreal foraging is more common.

Unitec Campus - Proposed Carrington Road bus and cycle ways with stands of kauri


What if the kererū avoided larvae infested fruit or was disinclined to feed on the ground? The bird, which under normal circumstances feeds on the ripe drupes and then relocate and deposit seed, lose a food source; germination of taraire would be compromised; and finally, the lichen suffers a primary cause of species extinction, habitat loss. CONCLUSION The nature of these projects reflects a desire to deliver a fusion, and perhaps be less distinctive about a perceived ‘native’ and ‘exotic’ dichotomy. The thinking around the case studies is less about the problematic ideology of native verses exotic and more to do with added value and a cultural contribution to the character of the regions. It is perhaps true then, that the Queensland fruit fly example establishes the more extreme end of the spectrum where the exotic/native relationship is viewed as an adversarial one. This view is often broadcast through the fourth estate, which is entrusted with the vitally important responsibility to educate. This in itself, can have an impact on the development and social understanding of the culture surrounding exotics and natives, as well as on occasion be an imperative to protect biodiversity. The ensuing sensation has the potential to obfuscate the more subtle and enriching dimension of a native and exotic fusion. The schemes by and large demonstrate divergence through the dynamic juxtaposition of diverse taxonomy. This approach with its inherent contrast amplifies unique qualities. The protagonists, exotic and native, are offset with their differences magnified. It is a fact that in New Zealand there is a strong colonial inheritance, landscape examples are, the iconic features of Otago, Kawau Island, Albert Park, Western Park, and indeed Grey Lynn Park. It is an inheritance that along with the considered introduction of additional exotics can provide an enriching dimension against the backdrop of native biota. With the approach illustrated in the case studies, planting strategies can perhaps become catalysts for a commentary associated with togetherness and add to the discourse around the idea of ‘belonging’. A hybrid approach to the design of planting schemes could continue to develop, within New Zealand, a sense of ‘togetherness’. The planting schemes described in the body of this text are as much a reflection of the way society contemplates a place in the world, as the planting designs are in themselves an aesthetic encounter. Balance then, rather than polemics and extremes should be sought. OPPOSITE PAGE Dr Hamish Foote Fly in the Ointment - Fruit Fly and the Taraire, water colour painting 28 96


PHD Lincoln, MBA Canty, MBUS:Dispute Resolution Massey, DIP LA Lincoln, DIP Hort (Dist)Lincoln, Life Member NZILA, Hon Member IFLA, ALACIS(Russia), International Member ASLA(USA), ONZM, Dep Chair Ngā Aho, Landcult LTD

Alayna Renata, NGĀI TAHU, NGĀTI TŪWHARETOA KI KAWERAU BLA hons, Dip Māori, Cert. Iwi Env. Manager Queensland University of Technology

Desna Whaanga-Schollum, NGĀTI RONGOMAIWAHINE, NGĀTI KAHUNGUNU, NGĀTI PAHAUWERA. DWS Creative, Chair Ngā Aho Refer to page 121 for Footnotes



andscape is a cultural construct and the principles and practice of the profession have been inextricably entwined with an Anglo-American or Western construct of landscape since the profession’s inception over 100 years ago. Western practitioners have been slow to recognise the culturally constructed aspect of the term landscape (Makhzoumi 2002, Menzies 2015). In addition: there is very limited comprehension among the wider public or even allied professions, that the understandings and perceptions which people hold about nature and landscape (Harrison and Burgess 1994) are developed through social interactions, and that landscape is about people and their perceptions: landscape is not solely an object (European Landscape Convention signed 2000, Menzies, 2015). The Anglo-American culture also resonates with the positivistic, scientific approach to knowledge, which ‘is thought to be rational and goal oriented, understanding the world as a single ordered whole with universal principles,’ and where ‘humans are superior to the animal world, living with nature’ (Jang 2004). By contrast Indigenous knowledge may adopt a more experiential, belief approach to knowledge, with an emphasis on the unique rather than transcendental principles, and with the human being at one with and in nature. There is generally no hierarchical separation between animals and humans: animals are acknowledged as sentient beings with an essential role within an eco-philosophical paradigm. There is respect and an expectation of reciprocity for interactions between the metaphysical aspects of nature and all creatures and physical entities within the world. The words spirit and passion might be expected in indigenous dialogue, but are infrequent in a scientific discourse.


This paper examines two apparently contrasting approaches, their commonalities, and how they might be effectively aligned to inform a richer and more vibrant profession. One approach is the scientific, largely Anglo-American or Western approach with its emphasis on the physical, verifiable, and quantifiable objects, and described systems such as eco-systems. While scientific theories change as do ‘proofs’ and what are ‘facts,’ theories are amenable to different understandings. The second approach is the valuescentred, experiential cultural approach which may occur in the West, is more frequently a feature of Eastern cultures and for the purposes of this paper, is an indigenous cultural approach. Metaphysical entities and personification of landscapes may seem incompatible with ecological systems. However, through addressing alignments in these systems, belief systems and ecosystems hold prospect of being integrated. Each system has evolved through observation of natural phenomena over extended time frames. Eco-systems and belief systems have a series of overlapping fundamentals, with both giving consideration to how the living engage with their non-living environment as well as the inherent role of creation and energy, be it abiotic or spiritual. Both systems also acknowledge the cyclical basis of human existence. Ecosystems and belief systems present values frameworks which can be addressed in cross-cultural environmental understanding and management. Examples where this opportunity has been provided for in New Zealand’s resource management law, and tribal contributions to dialogue, are discussed in the context of contemporary indigenous values and ecosystems management. This paper puts a focus on the indigenous as it is this broad cultural value set which is given less recognition and is frequently considered as a less acceptable knowledge base (often denigrated and marginalized), in the dominant hegemonic approach to knowledge (Akhtar 2015). The paper first explores characteristics of indigenous knowledge, beliefs and values and how they have been recognised in New Zealand. However, though there are legal frameworks referring to tribal belief systems in New Zealand and other places, practical translation of these in environmental

maintenance, management and use, still often falls short of regenerating fractured connections with land and cultural spirit. There is then an exploration of how theoretically the two approaches, positivistic ecosystems and traditional metaphysics might be brought together. A range of case studies where indigenous knowledge and ways of thinking are being adopted is then described. These are located within Anglo-American cultural constructs and design planning and practitioner frameworks. The case studies demonstrate how design thinking and practice within the urban context can assist cultural regeneration, through creating nurturing cities, vital custodianship and local wellbeing. Regeneration rather than concepts such as sustainability is emphasised. This is because indigenous cultures have long struggled for a voice and both require and deserve this, more than preservation or maintenance to survive, flourish and contribute to a vibrant future. The role of education within the scientific communities and indigenous cultures could provide opportunities for social cohesion through shared and aligned values. Education both within and beyond the profession of landscape architecture could enable celebration of similarities between contemporary knowledge (science) and traditional understanding (belief systems) in an innovative manner. The conclusion is that through respectful cultural regeneration, rather than preservation, and design with aligned values, vibrant places and connected people, as well as a more secure future can be pursued. Change is addressed because the challenge lies with the landscape architecture profession: how can the profession achieve effective change-focused practice that encompasses passion, spirit and sound science? Can practitioners deconstruct practice through analysis and reframe or restructure meaning (Akhtar 2015) in order to explore assumptions and beliefs and identify strategies for change? 2: MEANING OF TERMS LANDSCAPE, ECOSYSTEMS, AND INDIGENOUS BELIEF SYSTEMS The following sets out meanings of the terms landscape, ecosystems (as a specialized example of the physical sciences) and indigenous belief systems, as well as identifying where attention lies, and where not. Landscape has different meanings depending on culture and context. As Spirn (1998 p. 15) writes: ‘The language of landscape is our native language.…. The language of landscape is a habit of mind.’ It is not the writers’ intention to modify culturally derived meanings of landscape, be they Western, Eastern or indigenous, taking a respectful view that such meanings are an important and valued aspect of a culture. The various meanings are significant to each specific culture, bound by arts, literature, philosophies and customs, have developed in some cases over millennia, and are still changing.

Where a culture has considered landscape and people interactions for hundreds of years, there may be a rich array of terms for landscape, depending on the context, and no one term may directly translate to the Western understanding of landscape. Deriving or constructing a term which might cross cultures may have the same role as the ‘invented’ language Esparanto- it might perhaps enable communication but would not relate to a cultural construct. In other words, a constructed term may be adopted by enthusiasts, but be meaningless to cultures. The approach adopted is not to dominate any culture with a substitute or imposed term but to work to understand the different meanings of landscape, and build a richer professional understanding through this. Even in the Anglo-American cultures there are multiple meanings for landscape which need to be taken into account. The term ecosystems as defined by Tansley in 1935 is: ‘an integrated system composed of interactive biotic and abiotic components.’ Ecosystems are about communities of organisms working in conjunction with non-living components of the environment. The components of ecosystems work together to produce emerging properties. As a system there is the implication that there are boundaries and there is a distinction between an ecosystem and its environment, that is the environment beyond the boundaries of the system, and all biotic and abiotic components within the system are directly or indirectly connected and interacting (Lovett, G. et al 2007). In addition, as Lovett explains, the scale of the ecosystem generally depends on its function and those studying or working with ecosystems are usually interested in functions and properties, such as a wetland. The properties of an ecosystem are identified as complex, open, hierarchically ordered, selforganising, and cycle energy and matter. As a whole system, be it tiny or large, a holistic understanding is needed (Lovett et al 2007). Detailed aspects of ecosystems are not examined, the science being adopted as an example of hegemonic understanding or knowledge which happens to be important to landscape architecture. Neither are functions or properties considered in any detail, rather than the holistic understanding necessary for these complex systems. Culture is defined as ‘patterns of understanding that provide a basis for making one’s own behaviour sensible and meaningful’ (Morgan 1996 In Collins 1998, p. 117). In addition culture is understood as ‘the deeper levels of basic assumptions and beliefs that are shared… taken for granted.. learned responses to a group’s problem of survival,’ (Collins 1998, p. 108), including shared values and behaviour (Trompenaars 1993). At first consideration the positivism philosophy or doctrinal approach to science rejects the metaphysical and holds that facts are to be scientifically verified or capable of logical proof. Beliefs by contrast are not amenable to proof. However, belief systems, being a set of mutually supportive beliefs, could in essence be beliefs about ecosystem processes (theory is still developing in this as well as other sciences). This is not intended to diminish ecosystems as a science rather than to draw commonalities.



Seven years ago an important conference was held in New Zealand on traditional knowledge. It was attended by speakers from Nepal to the Americas and also included participant groups from Australia and the Pacific. The three hundred pages of Proceedings, published in 2010 (Ngā Pae of te Māraramatanga New Zealand’s Centre of Māori of Research Excellence) contains papers covering issues as broadly based as science, education, spirituality, peace, mediation, ethics and values, health and indigenous commonalities. Science, spirituality and beliefs (and their links) are now explored afresh for the landscape architecture profession. Indigenous knowledge has been well proven to provide a source of wisdom and ingenuity (Smith, In Ngā Pae o te Māraramatanga 2010) and indigenous belief systems have the capacity to assist with designing interventions or creating new strategies, thus of importance for science and ecosystems, but more particularly for the landscape architecture profession which has as its basis design practice.

Indigenous people possibly follow a similar cycle of understanding. Rather than focussing on biotic and abiotic factors as the starting point however, the emphasis for indigenous people is on creation. This creation is a form of energy from ‘Io’ or ‘Uha’ (for Māori, the indigenous people of New Zealand), and the darkness, energy, spirituality and the pure essence of existence. Hence rather than a scientific underpinning of biotic/abiotic factors determining human existence, for many indigenous people, and including Māori, the driver is spirit. Ecosystems as noted above are also concerned with and cycle energy. Beyond this, the following three steps of understanding ecosystems knowledge are much the same as for belief systems. From energy/spirit/abiotic factors comes the production of landscape, consumption by people and decomposition which returns energy/spirit/biotic and abiotic factors back into the cycle. 3: INDIGENOUS BELIEF SYSTEMS While much has been written on ecology and ecosystems relevant to landscape architecture (as examples, Makhzoumi and Pungetti 1999; McDonnell, Hahs and Breuste 2009; Ignatieva 2011) the literature on indigenous knowledge and belief systems, as well as its relevance, is seldom broached in landscape architecture dialogue, and rarely together with ecosystems knowledge. There is strong encouragement though to do so. Delegates at the 2013 International Federation of Landscape Architects IFLA50 World Congress ratified the Tāmaki Makāurau Declaration 2013 (and as one of the four resolutions) stated: ‘We recognise traditional and indigenous knowledge and wisdom held by people of the world, which contributes to understanding landscape and can guide decision making at this time and for our shared future.’


Many of the speakers at the 2008 conference spoke of the tyranny and violence, as well as loss of land and identity from colonial oppression and of the fortitude needed to maintain their values and beliefs while challenging the dominant positivistic ‘reality’ of the West (Jackson; Pitman; Ojibway; Everett In Ngā Pae o te Māraramatanga 2010). The oppression felt because of a dominant culture’s values, is also an interpretation that landscape architects can take from our professions dependence on Western values. This paper seeks to bring two beliefs systems to a closer understanding, but in mutually supporting roles rather than either one in dominance. This is both timely and appropriate because ‘the search for knowledge should be a process for critical interrogation’ (Akhtar 2015). ‘The articulation of knowledge is simply a process of story-telling’ whether it is ‘how to split the atom, it is a story’ and ‘if we have confidence and trust in our own knowledge systems, then we can traverse … anything ,.. religion, .. science, … intellect and passion, … reason and doubt’ (Jackson, Ngā Pae o te Māraramatanga 2010). ‘All that is real is story,’ (Ojibway Ngā Pae o te Māraramatanga 2010). Important to landscape architects are ‘the stories that are most relevant to a people and a community (and are), the stories that come from that land’ (Jackson, Ngā Pae o te Māraramatanga 2010). This indigenous knowledge, is understood as people belonging to the land, or tied with the land as one (Durie 2004; Sharples In Ngā Pae o te Māraramatanga 2010). ‘Māori understand land as Taonga Tuku Iho, a treasure passed down on the basis of whakapapa (genealogy), leadership and continual occupation, or Ahikāroa. Inherent in the concept of Ahikāroa, is not just authority over the land, but also the responsibility and obligations of guardianship of the land and to the past, present and future generations of people who have relationships with that land (Whaanga-Schollum, 2015).

While belief systems differ between indigenous clans, tribes and cultures, they start with creativity, be they dream-time songs, or stories; and the intimate relationship of people and the land. Spiritual belief comes first in any consideration of indigenous knowledge systems (Waikerepuru Ngā Pae o te Māraramatanga). Spirit (wairua in Māori ) is in all things, the animate and inanimate. It is in a drop of water, in rain and in trees (Williams 2015). Waikerepuru supported his contention by a proverb which admonishes people to understand all the universe, and genealogical relationships, and only then can people know enough to be able to deal with any issue: Kia oti a runga, kia oti a raro, ka puta ai koe ki waho. Thus spirituality and belief systems are at the heart of indigenous knowledge, which has been built over millennia through observation and stories to explain creation and relationships. Other professions and practices have already grappled with aspects of cultural constructs. One example is from the health sector: the Ministry of Health in New Zealand scoped the future of traditional healing following advocacy by health leaders (Durie 2004); to consider the place of traditional healing practices alongside scientific criteria based medicine and concluded: ‘traditional healing provides for a range of diagnostic and treatment modalities,’ as well as the support for culture (Ahuriri-Driscoll et al, In Ngā Pae o te Māraramatanga 2010). The education sector has also considered traditional responses to contemporary education questions and concluded that: ‘paying attention to solutions informed by indigenous knowledge can enable relevant and effective responses to emerge’ (Berryman and Bateman, In Ngā Pae o te Māraramatanga 2010). A third example is traditional knowledge alongside nanotechnologies. The conclusion was that they are compatible (Ramstad and Falkner, In Ngā Pae o te Māraramatanga 2010), confirming that: ‘This interface where differing world views come together, can be particularly fruitful for developing creative research, innovative approaches and new knowledge’ (Durie 2004). 4: RECOGNITION OF INDIGENOUS MĀORI BELIEFS AND VALUES There is legal recognition in New Zealand of Māori values. The basis for this is the founding Treaty of Waitangi, signed in 1840 between the Crown and chiefs of Māori tribes of New Zealand, which gave the Crown rights to govern and Māori full protection of their interest and status (Waitangi Tribunal). This has been interpreted in subsequent legislation as principles which must be taken into account. The land and people focused Resource Management Act 1999 (Ministry for the Environment) and its amendments identifies matters of national importance which must be recognised and provided for by decision makers, and while the list is extending every few years, Section 6 (e) includes: ‘the relationship of Māori and their culture and traditions with their ancestral lands, water, sites, waahi tapu, and other taonga’ (meaning sacred sites and other things precious).

The Resource Management Act covers all of New Zealand and is largely implemented through regional policies and plans for resource management, such as water, air and land, which is administered by Regional Councils. The use of land, which is managed through objectives, policies, plans and methods for implementation, is in turn administered by District Councils. These policies and plans are developed through a public participatory process which focuses on the effects of change, to produce documents which are complex, often cumbersome and are rife with inherent conflicting values. So while it might seem a straight forward matter to provide for Māori ancestral land and water values, the consideration of these alongside other issues is necessary to achieve the purpose of the legislation, which is sustainable management. Māori have found participation in the process of contributing to developing and administering Regional and District plans difficult because their time and expertise is often in short supply, and when a project is mooted which conflicts with their values it may be an extremely costly business to defend values. For instance, even when neighbouring tribes and New Zealand’s Historic Places Trust were in agreement about the negative effects on Māori culture of a particular change proposal, a proposed expressway which cut through a graveyard north of Wellington (NZ Historic Places Trust 2012), the value of effective road alignment seemed to be thought more important for sustainable management by the New Zealand Courts. This example though provided hope and ideas for the future once parties achieved understanding through respectful dialogue, as our case study discussion indicates. There have been a number of culturally important resource management cases where local Māori have contested a change proposal. Ngāi Tai, a Māori tribe living to the east of Auckland city, and other community groups, as well as the developer and the Regional Council, contested a development approval granted by the Manukau City Council to a Canal Housing Development in the Wairoa (Clevedon) River. The Environment Court found in the Māori and community appellants’ favour, with legal planning issues being determinative, and the development was halted (EnvC 211 2010). Perhaps the only case where Māori beliefs and values have been determinative of a decision to turn down a development proposal where belief systems were at issue, was one where a large wind farm was proposed to be sited over a hill which is believed in Māori mythology to be an important canoe. Significant within Māori belief systems is the personification of the landscapes which often stems from a mythological understanding about how landforms were shaped. The actions of ancestors and their interaction with the natural environment are explained in a similar way to that for ecosystems; animals and other biotic and abiotic processes shape ecosystems. This contested issue, which was considered twice by the Environment Court, placed Māori traditional values against the values of renewable energy. Progress towards greater recognition of Māori beliefs and values has been slow and costly for all participants and while some land is now being acquired by tribal groups through a Government settlement process to redress the land confiscations which 101


previously occurred, cultural identity, and even language continue to be fragile and diminishing. In 2015 the Māori Language Commission, at the start of Māori Language Week, reported that surveys revealed the per cent of people who could converse in Māori had been steadily dropping. 5: INITIATIVES A number of Māori tribes have put resources into developing iwi (tribal) management plans which set out their beliefs and stories, as well as particular issues and opportunities. While these plans have no statutory weight, although they may be referred to in district plans, they can provide a focus for strengthening tribal identity and a means of preserving knowledge, as well as information for those wishing to understand local relationships and values. They are not undertaken by all tribes, who may lack resources to develop such plans, chose not to, or have different priorities; and their acceptance has been limited. However, greater attention to such plans by decision makers, developers, landscape architects and other practitioners could be a catalyst to much improved dialogue. They are certainly a first port of call in setting out to understand another culture’s values, in instances when they have been prepared. Another means to increase understanding, before developing ways of bringing the two belief systems together, is to build cultural capacity within a profession. Practitioners may be planning and designing for an indigenous client, or designing for a community which includes a range of cultures (and if it does not now, anticipation of changing cultural populations could build in resilience for design), or there may be a need to recognise the landscapes valued by indigenous communities. These are three reasons, among others, that encourage capacity building by a profession. At a minimum, that in turn requires some familiarity with a culture and their local groups’ customs; in meeting and building relationships, and understanding their values and beliefs, places of significance, principles, and techniques of engagement. Consideration of case studies which demonstrate the development of partnership: what has been successful and what has not, also provides initial information. Landscape Architects in New Zealand, through the New Zealand Institute of Landscape Architects (NZILA) held three capacity building seminars, following examples of capacity building developed by planners and other professions. Monitoring the success of such events and extending their reach and level of knowledge would be ways of sustaining commitment to change. Professional strategies can also enable better understanding of indigenous belief systems. From the experience of trying to bring about change in the face of cultural resistance, small steps which provide for incentives, and can be achieved and built on are a better means to embed change than ambitious plans with limited follow through. The New Zealand Institute of Landscape Architects have recently developed a Bicultural Strategy. They stated:


‘It is intended that by developing a Bicultural Strategy, the NZILA will take a leadership role for promoting and meaningfully expressing kaupapa Māori (Māori philosophy) in the landscape architecture profession providing for a more inclusive bicultural landscape architecture practice appropriate to Aotearoa/New Zealand which better recognises Te Ao Māori (the Māori worldview). They also noted: ‘The adoption of this Bicultural Strategy will for some require a shift from the traditional western based design and planning approach to include Te Ao Māori values and protocols. In this paradigm, landscape architects will have a willingness and confidence to incorporate kaupapa Māori ( Māori policy) into everyday knowledge and practice. Through the adoption of the Bicultural Strategy and ongoing reviews, the NZILA has demonstrated a willingness and commitment to strengthening the knowledge and understanding of kaupapa Māori through leadership, promotion and education’ (McBain 2015). As part of this strategy the New Zealand Institute conducted a detailed review of educational knowledge relevant to the profession and now include a number of aspects of mātauranga Māori (Māori knowledge), for inclusion in the curriculum and for assessment during university accreditation reviews. As previously indicated, change is encouraged by incentives (more effectively than penalties) and providing for awards, media recognition, points towards Continuing Professional Development, and other regular means for the profession to assign value to change is important. Building closer links between ecosystems and indigenous belief systems would be hollow if communication with indigenous groups was not entered into in a humble and respectful manner. Building relationships surely must be a priority in any strategy for change. One way is to join in celebration of events or traditions when that is appropriate. As nations celebrate the festivals important for their country, so too should professions and institutes encourage dialogue by celebrating indigenous New Year (Matariki in New Zealand) or other events. Simply getting to know each other through regular joint activities is an even better way to build relationships. Another approach for enhancing understanding of another culture is through examination of the gap between aspiration and action. All too often positive aims and sentiments might be expressed, such as through District Plans, but very little action follows. The Auckland Council set up an Independent Māori Statutory Board as part of its change action and the Board contracted the services of a respected accounting and management firm to identify what planning goals relevant to indigenous values were being achieved, and what resources were required to achieve goals where success was short. This was quantified in both planning and monetary terms and the funding then sought to achieve the goals.

All these initiatives could assist the better understanding of indigenous cultures so that, without in any way diminishing each culture, there is a better cultural dialogue and hence a better link between science systems and belief systems. 6: CASE STUDIES Six case studies are described with the objective of demonstrating how in different contexts and with various objectives, western and indigenous (Māori) constructs and thinking can be brought together to achieve a much better outcome. With this understanding practitioners and designers can take the lessons learnt and consider how they can be applied in local contexts. The first case study is considered in some detail, remembering that every context is different, particularly the history, people, politics, law, beliefs and landscape. However each of the case studies has aspects of similarity. For instance the technique of hikoi, walking the site with the relevant people, was adopted in the first case study and is described as a technique in the second. 6.1: TAKING THE INITIATIVE: TAKAMORE TRUSTEES AND NZ TRANSPORT AGENCY Some 75 years ago the government identified a road corridor in order to bypass a coastal town. The objective was to construct a new motorway which was unimpeded by ‘side friction’, identified as traffic from access roads originating from local suburbs, travelling to the township along the state highway. The corridor, which passed through open rolling pasture which had been developed over dune lands and swamps behind the coastal fore-dune, was to provide for a better and more efficient connection between the capital city, and cities to the north. There was no consultation with affected parties when this alignment was planned. No further action was taken until the road agency applied for planning approval for an expressway, generally following the corridor, in the 1990’s. The decision maker, the Kāpiti Coast District Council (KCDC), approved the proposal but a number of different groups opposed their decision and took the matter to the New Zealand Environment Court. This Court considers such appeals afresh based on evidence produced, and the law. Prior to their decision to approve the expressway KCDC had agreed to recognise an historic Māori burial ground as identified by the (then) NZ Historic Places Trust. The burial ground was located within the expressway alignment, but KCDC had not addressed the conflict this caused. In addition KCDC had successively granted applications for suburban development on land previously used as farmland and open space, either side of the road alignment, thus limiting flexibility to modify the proposed corridor either to the west or east. One of the participants in this appeal was the Takamore Trustees who, along with the Runanga o Te Atiawa ki Whakarongotai Inc (a tribal group) were representatives of Māori who had called the broad coastal area home for hundreds of years prior to European settlement. Takamore Trustees accepted a duty of stewardship of the land in general through their customary values (as did other tribal groups), and in particular for a small identified and fenced area of the burial ground which they held in Trust. Relationships with KCDC had not been harmonious and the Trustees were generally

mistrustful of the Council. There was a rift in understanding of cultural values and the Trustees in turn had been unable to understand the role of KCDC. Four expensive and time consuming Court hearings later, the expressway was approved by the Courts and all parties were bruised by the experience. However, there had been some changes during the ten or so years that the Court appeals were conducted. A new mayor had been elected to KCDC who was more empathetic to the cultural values of the Trustees, and parties had grown in understanding. In addition the High Court had directed that the parties collaborate to address their differences. Takamore Trustees resolved to take the initiative and entered into discussions with the Council to obtain the best outcome in the circumstances. While the alignment proposed was devastating to the values held by the Trustees and in their view no amount of mitigation could address this, they and the Council made a genuine attempt to understand each other’s values. In addition, a new government had identified ‘Roads of National Importance’ and the Trustees also set out to negotiate with the government road authority, the NZ Transport Agency (NZTA). The Trustees set out to communicate their connections with the land to NZTA in terms that the transport agency could understand. The Trustees led walks over the land with the NZTA representatives, explaining their love of the land in human terms, and demonstrated a willingness to work and remove obstacles together. The Trustees were solutions rather than issues focused. A small ‘window’ of land enabling the road alignment to be pushed somewhat away from the Takamore land was recognised. Although that movement of the corridor was not to the amount of change the Trustees sought, they recognised that NZTA were empathetic, and close communication built between the parties, which has helped to resolve new issues as they arise. The Trustees now have an ongoing and they anticipate, enduring relationship with NZTA. A mitigation package has enabled an expanded area of Trustee land. Land alongside the burial ground was purchased by KCDC, and returned to the Trustees by NZTA as part of the mitigation package. The Trustees seek to maintain this as a natural landscape and are working with the Department of Conservation in order to have the land jointly managed as an Historic Reserve. In addition another burial ground, currently owned by developers but unable to be developed, is under discussion for protection for the Trustees, as a ‘cultural facility.’ Summary: Mutual respect and communication, including each other’s vision, focusing on solutions, and walking the land together all enabled collaboration and innovative outcomes to bring the community together. Respectful dialogue is critical and while science (such as in this context wetland and dune ecology, engineering or archaeology) can provide information, communication is more important. Much more historic information has also been gained, which is of cultural value.



Hīkoi - Sites of Significance research Whakaki nui a rua, hapū claimant group visiting sacred ancestral mountains (Hikunui), 2011. Desna Whaanga-Schollum 6.2: COLLABORATION AND LEARNING BY HIKOI (PILGRIMAGE OR WALK):


Reconnecting people with the environment through visiting environmental sites of significance, sites for regeneration, or assessing landscapes for future change proposals enables collaboration and sharing values. This approach is a discovery or rediscovery of land through walking it with those who have a role in its future, have connections, and may have differing science and cultural based values. Dialogue during that walk enables better understanding of both the science and spiritual aspects of the site, and how change might affect the land and people. The technique regenerates a personal relationship with the landscape. Examples where this has been undertaken are: Sites of Significance research done with a hapū of Rongomaiwahine iwi (Desna WhaangaSchollum); research for tribal groups with Victoria University (Penny Allan and Dr Huhana Smith), investigation for future residential development with Unitec students, Auckland (Diane Menzies) and of local places with Ngā Aho Māori designers network).

Ngā Aho developed a set of principles which might be adopted for consideration of Māori values during landscape change. Mana whenua, that is local Māori tribes having authorities and responsibilities, supported the adoption of these principles which Auckland Council set out in planning documents and guidelines. These principles have also been adopted by consultants (for instance Jasmax firm), community and professional groups and is being disseminated throughout New Zealand.

6.3: VALUES, PEOPLE AND SCIENCE: MAHINGA KAI (FOOD GATHERING) PROJECTS: NGĀI TAHU, UNIVERSITIES, COMMUNITY Through research and the collaboration of science experts, local leaders and community groups, regeneration of damaged wetlands and lakes can lead to better species and landscape health, the regeneration of spirit of place, as well as a reinstated food source for local people. Travis Swamp, Christchurch was partly protected and had been enhanced as a wetland reserve by community groups and the Christchurch City Council prior to the destructive impact and later swarm of over 15000 earthquakes in Christchurch from 2011 onwards. Housing development that had been permitted in the wetland area was ‘red zoned’ (identified as land unsuitable for housing) and a collaborative project is now underway applying ecosystems regeneration knowledge offered by Canterbury University, and cultural and community values. Another land, lake and sea focused project, at Wairewa near a local village (Ngāti Irikēhu and Lincoln University) is the Mahinga Kai Cultural Park. Papakura art work, Desna Whaanga-Schollum

In addition, a particular aspect of design investigation by the Auckland Design office, termed Urban Mauri - ‘Design begins in Wānanga’ (forum and discussion) has developed techniques for putting tikanga (customs and protocol) into contemporary practice. This investigation is based on Māori world views, principles and frameworks. It has addressed the question of how to shift the current combative and often mono-cultural paradigm of council and developer ‘consultation’ models to an enhanced co-designed approach.

6.5: INTEGRATED PUBLIC ARTWORKS (LANDSCAPE / ARCHITECTURE): Work recognizing the previous eco-system within an urban context – which has been built over, as well as the cultural values of local people, can help to enhance understanding and bring people together. An example is the large public artwork in Papakura, Auckland which tells the story of the previous ecological landscape, from Pukekiwiriki Pā through bush wetlands, to the sea (Manukau Harbour). Another is the City Walk project in Christchurch, which is led by Matapopore, a Charitable Trust held by Te Ngāi Tūāhuiriri. A series of central city ‘anchor’ projects have been set up to represent cultural values as part of post-earthquake redevelopment. 6.6: STATE OF THE TAKIWĀ (TERRITORY). A number of investigations have been undertaken on aspects of land health and management, combining science and spiritual/ cultural values. One example is the study of Indigenous Agroecology examining stream health on Tai Porutu Farms (Ataria 2014). Another project is the online review of the State of the Takiwā by Ngai Tahu tribe. 7. HOW COULD SCIENCE AND SPIRIT BE BROUGHT TOGETHER? A first step to reconciling or bringing together these differing constructs is through the identification of commonalities in each way of thinking, drawing on mutual human development. There is frequently a surprising degree of fear of engagement in such conceptual issues, and every means to break down these barriers using mutually understood terms, language and stories can be helpful. The conceptual diagram (Figure 2) has demonstrated that there are similarities in systems thinking and this needs further elaboration in work between parties in a range of circumstances. Indigenous management plans, legal support, and case studies which identify strategies for success, can also be helpful. Education is an essential basis in this process, through dialogue, relationships and learning more about each other. ‘Dialogue means joining the struggle with as much goodness, strength and wisdom as we can demonstrate,’ (Reeves In Ngā Pae o te Māramatanga 2010 ). There is a frequent temptation to avoid collaboration with another culture through mistrust, misunderstanding and lack of perception of a professional priority. However, ‘we have to be prepared to engage with people we do not normally enjoy hearing,’ (Reeves p 116). In addition cultural conflicts and objectives need to be clear (although not at the expense of listening). For instance,

image by Darren Utting NZ Transport Agency

should the language of a culture be used in engagement when that is well understood only within the one culture (and how does this fit with the urgent need to maintain and regenerate language and customs within the other culture?). Should one culture be offended by the ignorance of values of the other culture? These and other issues need to be carefully explored with respect to barriers to dialogue. What are the consequences and benefits for landscape practice? Professional strategies for change include building cultural capacity through seminars, meetings and engagement with cultures, celebrating with them and supporting their endeavours to keep the culture alive. The very act of engagement in other belief systems has been resisted by the bulk of the landscape architecture profession and multiple incentives are now advocated to achieve change. Critical reflection is often a luxury in the hubbub and complexity of community dialogue and economic pressures. However, the alignment with ethics and values is a useful step in considering how spirit can be perceived in everything and love of land and landscape can be comprehended in different ways. 8. CONCLUSIONS Regeneration is an essential approach to addressing the alignment of beliefs and values. Where one form of belief has been dominant for an extended time, more than protection is needed in order to encourage different ways of thinking to flourish in mutual respect. The case studies elaborated demonstrate that work by other professions and participants are achieving beneficial and resilient outcomes, often in the face of diversity. It is now the opportunity of the landscape architecture profession to demonstrate that they have a vital role to play in the dialogue between science and culture, ecosystems and belief systems, and how this in turn can lead to more resilient outcomes. Goodwill is essential in such work. Perceived offences need to be put to one side and innovative solutions found so that the profession can be a leader in this essential link between people and land, culture and values. Such an undertaking must be approached with an open mind as scientific discovery is an acceptance and respect for different ways of knowing. Sir Paul Reeves, an respected leader stated: Differences and diversity are sources of strength and inspiration,’ (Reeves In Ngā Pae o te Māramatanga 2010).




ow society perceives the environment influences the weighting it is given relative to social, cultural, and economic values (Davoudi, 2012). Therefore, how the environment is perceived influences environmental outcomes and society’s ability to resolve environmental issues (Botkin, 1990). Davoudi discusses eight paradigms of the term ‘environment’ within the English planning context. This essay aims to discuss how the paradigms align with the New Zealand planning context and how the discussion by Davoudi can guide future environmental management. It is suggested that the paradigms identified by Davoudi exist within the New Zealand planning context (Table 1 gives examples). However, a key difference is the emphasis placed on the cultural significance of intrinsic values in New Zealand. It is also suggested that future environmental management can be improved by acknowledging both the positive and negative aspects of the paradigms.

The paradigms identified by Davoudi (2012) are not necessarily chronological, complimentary, nor discrete, but rather multilayered. In discussing natural environment paradigms the focus of Davoudi’s discussion is inherently centred on how humans perceive nature. Davoudi also suggests that the recent planning responses to climate change have resurrected older planning paradigms where the ‘environment’ is viewed as a risk to humans that needs to be controlled. Conacher and Conacher (2000) suggest there is often confusion between the terms ‘resource’ and ‘environment’ and that the environment must be defined in relation to something. It is assumed the ‘environment’ Davoudi (2012) discusses is in relation to the natural environment (rather than the cultural environment for example). Furthermore, it is assumed the natural environment encompasses the material world as a whole (including natural resources, biodiversity, aesthetic values, ecosystem services, and intrinsic natural values) as described by Marshall (1994).

DAVOUDI’S PARADIGMS IN THE NEW ZEALAND CONTEXT The environmental paradigms identified by Davoudi (2012) exist within the New Zealand planning context. Table 1 outlines the dominant human-nature relationship, the manifestations in a planning framework, and New Zealand examples for each paradigm. Table 1: Summary of Natural Environment Paradigms identified by Davoudi with New Zealand Examples (adapted from Davoudi (2012).




The New Zealand examples provided in Table 1 illustrate the paradigms identified by Davoudi (2012) can be found within the context of the New Zealand planning framework. McNeill (2016) asserts that the perception of the environment in New Zealand has changed over time. Older legislation often emphasised the passive value of nature; legislation of the 1980’s and 1990’s predominantly viewed the environment as a resource for human use; and, more recently, legislation seeks to recognise the intrinsic value of the environment (McNeill, 2016). These changes support the presence of many of Davoudi’s paradigms within the New Zealand planning context. A key difference between the English and New Zealand contexts is apparent in the interpretation of the environment as a ‘nature reserve’. The nature reserve paradigm views humans as part of the natural environment and the outcome sought is to protect it for its intrinsic values. However, the discussion by Davoudi (2012) does not explicitly consider the cultural significance of intrinsic environmental values in the view of indigenous people. How indigenous groups perceive the environment can be in conflict with ‘traditional western’ paradigms (Horsley, 1989; Tomas, 2011). Indigenous groups offer unique perspectives that are often based on a relationship with the environment, rather than consumption of resources, centred in a deep connection to nature (Beverly, 2015). Additionally, environmental impacts can result in a loss of cultural identity, and emotional and spiritual connection to the environment for indigenous groups (Mccarthy, Hepburn, Scott, Schweikert, Turner, & Moller, 2014). None of the paradigms identified by Davoudi (2012) reflect the spiritual and cultural perspectives of Indigenous groups. Although a true ecocentric paradigm should disregard any human value system; the perspectives of indigenous people do assist the interpretation of ecocentric paradigms through acknowledging the complexity and integrated nature of the environment. Arguably, despite the signing of the Treaty of Waitangi in 1840, wide recognition of its place in the New Zealand constitution did not occur until the 1980’s (Gow, 2014). Further advances in recognising indigenous perspectives have been made since this time. The Resource Management Act 1991 (RMA) seeks to integrate and acknowledge the cultural values of Maori and the way in which Maori view the natural environment. Section 7 108

of the RMA (other matters) acknowledges kaitiakitanga, while section 6 of the RMA (matters of national importance) seeks the protection of protected customary rights. More recently iwi co-governance frameworks have been established, such as the Waikato River Authority (McNeill, 2008, p. 100-101; McNeill, 2011, p. 125-128). In addition, decision support tools for viewing and assessing the indigenous paradigm, such as the Mauri Model, have been developed and used (Morgan, 2006; Faaui, & Morgan, 2015). GUIDANCE FOR FUTURE ENVIRONMENTAL MANAGEMENT VIEWING MULTIPLE PARADIGMS No single paradigm offered by Davoudi (2012) reflects the complexity of the natural environment. Davoudi acknowledges that the eight paradigms identified are not mutually exclusive. However, Davoudi also suggests that the relatively recent sustainability paradigm is becoming overshadowed by the climate change paradigm, thus suggesting there is a hierarchy of dominance within the paradigms. Similarly, McNeill (2016) states the dominant view of nature as a resource has not halted the degradation of much of New Zealand’s natural environment. Environmental management can be improved through society and planning practitioners attempting to see the natural environment through multiple paradigms, while not favouring any given paradigm, or set of paradigms. In this way we may better reflect the complexity of nature. This approach is touched on by Bromley (1987) who suggests that environmental policy should search for the balance between ‘leaving it to the market’ (tradable commodity paradigm) and collective decision making. Finally, it is important that society and planning practitioners continue to accept and acknowledge the different paradigms of indigenous people and other diverse social groups, because doing so ensures a more balanced view of the natural environment is considered.



Given that the natural environment provides the life-supporting capacity required for human survival, the way in which society views the natural environment impacts on the continued existence of the human race. A study by Meadows, Randers, & Behrens (1972) concluded that environmental management is not just desirable, but, a requirement for the survival of humans. However, Newton and Freyfogle (2005) frame this issue differently, stating that:

In conclusion, the paradigms discussed by Davoudi (2012) are apparent in the New Zealand planning framework, with a key difference being in the emphasis placed on the cultural significance of environmental values in New Zealand. In addition, improvements in environmental management can be achieved by considering the way in which the natural environment is viewed. Firstly, through recognition of the differing paradigms of the natural environment. Society and planning practitioners must acknowledge that these paradigms are multilayered, while also acknowledging that no one view is correct, thus attempting to view the natural environment through as many paradigms as possible. Secondly, planning practitioners should consider the human causes of environmental issues rather than solely addressing the symptoms. Finally, society and planning practitioners must be more cognisant that even ecocentric paradigms are projected

“our prime responsibility is not for nature, for the future, or even for our own survival. It is for our own behaviour. Because our behaviour is causing our problems, our goal should be to make it, and ourselves better” (Newton and Freyfogle, 2005). The stance taken by Newton and Freyfogle (2005) focuses our attention on the cause of environmental issues, rather than the issues themselves. This focus is not captured in Davoudi’s paradigms (other than possibly partly in the ‘problem’ and ‘sustainability’ paradigms). Therefore, developing a paradigm that focuses on the cause of environmental issues being human behaviour, may provide for the development of better environmental management solutions.

from the human viewpoint.

PROJECTED ECOCENTRIC VIEWS It is important to consider that an ecocentric paradigm is still ‘projected’ (or originates) from the human viewpoint (Rowe, 1994). This projected ecocentric view, coupled with the complexity of ecological systems, requires that a precautionary principle is adopted when assessing environmental impacts (Selman, 1996). The projected nature of an ecocentric view also means planning practitioners should question if environmental values are completely accounted for when weighing up the four wellbeings (cultural, environmental, economic and social). This idea is partly acknowledged by Davoudi (2012) in stating that while each of the paradigms identified has its own particular history and trajectory, an anthropocentric view of nature binds them together. This may also suggest that Davoudi views the paradigm of the environment as a ‘nature reserve’ as somewhat anthropocentric.



INDIGENOUS PLACES: CONTESTATION OF COLONIAL LANDSCAPES Dr Rebecca Kiddle NGĀTI POROU and NGĀ PUHI Dr Diane Menzies NGĀTI KAHUNGUNU and NGĀTI WHATUI APITI Dr Rebecca Kiddle: Cert. Professional Studies in Learning and Teaching in Higher Education University of Liverpool, UK (2015), PHD Urban Design Oxford Brookes University, Joint Centre for Urban Design, UK (2011), MA Urban Design Oxford Brookes University Joint Centre for Urban Design, UK (2006),BA Politics Victoria University of Wellington (1997). Dr Diane Menzies: PHD Lincoln, MBA Canty, MBUS: Dispute Resolution Massey, DIP LA Lincoln, DIP Hort (Dist) Lincoln, Life Member NZILA, Hon Member IFLA, ALACIS (Russia), International Member ASLA (USA), ONZM, Dep Chair Nga Aho. IMAGES Bela Hinemoa Grimsdale Refer to page 122 for Footnotes

Abstract Colonisation has had devastating outcomes for indigenous relationships with ancestral places and spaces. Māori in New Zealand, First Nations (Canada), Native American (USA) and Aboriginal (Australia) people share experiences of land theft and disassociation. The deeply destructive effect on indigenous cultures is all the more distressing because in contrast to Western conceptions of land ownership, indigenous metaphysical understandings of land shape personal and collective identities. Landscape, for instance, is part of Māori tribal genealogy: it is who we are. However in spite of both historical and more recent painful experiences of land loss, positive strategies for better place based recognition of our culture are being developed by Māori. Innovative projects are taking place in New Zealand for improved understandings of culture and community. Architects and landscape architects are each setting in place initiatives to upskill practitioners in Māori knowledge. This paper draws on the history of placemaking in Aotearoa New Zealand outlining the ways in which placemaking has been used as one of the most effective tools of colonisation. The case of Ngāi Tai ki Tāmaki exemplifies the colonial recreation of the old world in a new place through the subjugation of sites of significance for indigenous people. However, hopeful endeavours by indigenous designers have served to turn the tide, working to decolonise our cities by promoting indigenous identities in the everyday urban places we inhabit. Key Words: Indigenous design, Landscape values, Space, Place associations, Identity.



olynesian voyagers settled in Aotearoa in approximately 1300AD (King, 2003:48). They brought their Polynesian culture to these Southern lands while maintaining connections across the Pacific to those landscapes which remained part of their genealogy; their cultural DNA. They brought their mountains, rivers and significant places with them through names which are found throughout the Pacific. They brought their belief that climatic elements, fauna, flora and landscapes held spirit (mauri), and represented gods. ‘The lands and waters are alive with beating hearts’ (Menzies and Ruru 2011:142). They brought their cultural belief that land was something that one belonged to and the principle of manaakitanga (hospitality) requiring that guests be treated with generosity.

Māori identity springs from whakapapa (genealogy). Genealogies may include reference to fauna such as sooty petrels, eels or whales, founding stories, spiritual and metaphysical connections, and important historical events involving ancestors. This identity is continually reinforced through mihimihi (words of greeting and introduction said at formal occasions or meetings). These often include pepeha (personal connections with mountains, bodies of water and land) spoken as introduction. The mountain and water come first as symbols of permanence and life. Personal names are of least importance so are always offered up last. Our connections to our environment take primacy over all other markers of identification. The pepeha enables the making of tribal connections: people and events tie each person to a broader indigenous community, as well as place. The retelling of stories, songs and explanations of family histories reinforce these connections. We are the place and the place is us.


European explorers arrived approximately 300 years later but left no lasting impact until the arrival of James Cook in 1769 (King, 2003:103). Despite a number of meetings and confrontations between the indigenous people and these explorers, colonists effectively disregarded the ‘native savages’, dismissing their rights of first settlement. The arrival of whalers, sealers and settlers was initially welcomed by Māori eager to trade, however, without government, increasing numbers turned to lawlessness to the dismay of local chiefs. Having then, no authority, the British government sought to gain control, agreeing the Treaty of Waitangi in 1840 with Māori chiefs, which according to the Māori version, allowed the British to govern. To the chiefs, this was understood, in part, to be a solution the problem of misbehaving sailors. The Treaty also afforded Māori sovereignty over their lands, forests and fisheries but in time, it was clear that these rights were not respected. Thus colonisation advanced, expanding rapidly. Soon settlers outnumbered Māori. Māori land was taken either through legal or unscrupulous purchase agreements or confiscated as punishment for not acquiescing to sometimes spurious rules and laws. In addition, the Māori population was decimated by new diseases brought by the colonists, for which they had no resistance.1 Other indigenous peoples in colonised countries have similar values and experiences. For example, the Cree of Canada have a humble relationship with their landscapes and value principles of hospitality and guardianship (Chakasim 2016). Their attachment to landscapes has a metaphysical dimension. Tlicho First Nation, Peguis First Nation and Nisga’a (Canada), and Gunditjmara (Australia) suffered the violence of cultural obliteration and ‘assimilation by education’ of their children in colonial residential schools (Chakasim 2016). Despite this loss of land and the spiritual and economic value land offers, indigenous people have proved resilient. Through the strength of their stories, a poignant education process with respect to their landscapes is now occurring. Hopeful acts of resistance and renewal are taking place.

This paper draws attention to the ways in which place and placemaking were used, and are still being used to colonise Māori in urban settings. It explores a recent act of resilience led by Māori focused on decolonising Aotearoa New Zealand urban places through representations of the place in us. 3. PLACEMAKING AS COLONISATION Placemaking in the 19th Century in Aotearoa New Zealand was dominated by the colonial agenda. Indigenous notions of place and identity were either misunderstood or disregarded. The creation of ‘new’ places was stimulated by a design rationale predicated on the idea that these places should be re-created as better forms of the old world. Bell writes “colonists set out to transform the indigenous worlds they entered (‘new’ only to them) into their visions of a better version of the societies they had left” (Bell 2014, 14). Bell cites Gayatri Chekrovorty Spivak (1985) who adopts the term ‘worlding’ to describe these processes of demolition and construction performed by colonists to create these ‘new’ places. “Settler colonization is a project of creating a new world, rather than a project based on the finding of one” (Ibid). Securing large tracts of land across New Zealand for new settlement, as outlined above, was key to colonial success and placemaking. To this end, the very existence of towns and cities are understood by some Māori as being ongoing painful reminders of what has been lost. Further to this the process of renaming to legitimise claim to place or, as termed by Carter, ‘linguistic settlement’ (Carter 1987) reified colonial norms. Anna Yeatman cited in Berg and Kearns states “naming is a form of norming” (Berg & Kearns 1996). Names support hegemonic representations of place. “Names are part of both a symbolic and a material order that provides normality and legitimacy to those who dominate the politics of (place) representation” (Ibid, 99). Move forward to today to an expanded colonial toolbox in a world in which cities and urban settlements are conceptualised as nonindigenous spaces. Indigeneity is primarily understood as a rural construct serving to erase indigeneity in urban settings. This, despite the fact that most Māori live in cities: over 85% of Māori 111


live in urban areas. There is a need to consider Māori values in urban spaces. In addition, these current conceptions of urbanity deny the mana (authority) that particular tribal groups have over places that have since become urban. These conceptions have built up after years of land appropriation for the use of town and city formation and the ongoing disregard of key sites of indigenous identity. Finally, problematic local and central government land and region demarcations that dichotomise urban and rural landscapes in ways which do not correspond with iwi and hapū boundaries (Hoskins, 2008) have contributed to ongoing colonisation.

while having lost ownership or ability to inhabit much of the land itself. Hoskins laments the impact of this physical disconnection on a sense of place: ‘A Māori sense of place can be seen to be connected to both ‘rangatiratanga’ (the ability to exercise control over one’s environment) and ‘kaitiakitanga’ (the ability to exercise the stewardship of resources). When one’s control over the environment is progressively eroded, so in turn is one’s ability to act as kaitiaki for that environment. So one’s connection to the place becomes confined to an academic or at best spiritual level.’2 Te Puke o Tara, named after a famous early Polynesian explorer, was a volcano of comparable height to other volcanoes sacred to Māori in the region. Vast gardens flourished in the rich soils on the encircling flat plateau and sides. Te Puke o Tara was regarded as a bastion, guarding these trophy gardens. The gardens generously fed Ngāi Tai for many years, over the course of which they developed advanced gardening knowledge. The volcano was known to have echoed with dawn calls for blessings from Ngāi Tai spiritual leaders, and bird song. However, the constitutive value of this topographical monument was not recognised by European settlers. Instead the mountain was perceived as a convenient shingle supply and quarried for over 80 years for residential, road and other infrastructure development. Having dug the volcano away to a steep, deep hole, the quarry was then adapted to a landfill; a convenient place to dump city rubbish. Both quarrying and rubbish dumping activities were regarded as a huge offence by Ngāi Tai, an abuse of culture and an insult to the god of volcanos, Ruaumoko. In addition, many natural connections which enhanced the bio-diversity in the area were severed and bird life has slumped through loss of habitat, imported predators and pollution. Complete obliteration of this important landscape feature has resulted in loss of identity and separation from the landscape from which Ngāi Tai have been excluded for over 100 years. The use of the site as landfill has nearly reached capacity and the site is to become a park. Today Ngāi Tai are to co-manage the site in conjunction with Auckland Council and are contributing to design plans. Their focus will be on the development of a habitat for birds as well as a recreation area that takes on a natural appearance. While currently named Greenmont Park, the tribe hope this will be replaced by an appropriate Māori name.

4. NGĀI TAI KI TĀMAKI The work currently taking place in Auckland with respect to Te Puke o Tara demonstrates a place-based example of decolonisation. The history of Ngāi Tai ki Tāmaki, a mana whenua group whose land sits in what is now called Auckland, illustrates starkly the impact of colonisation on landscapes and people. Ngāi Tai ki Tāmaki have lived in Auckland for over 1000 years. Much of their tribal area has now been developed as suburbs, but they still retain strong spiritual connections and memories with this landscape


Whilst plans to co-manage the site with the local tribe are positive, this example indicates the lasting impact this disregard of Māori values, as they relate to our landscapes, have on indigenous communities. There is now little evidence that the site of several hectares was once a tall and sacred volcano. Despite the fact that colonisation and urban development has had, and continues to have, a negative impact on local tribes Māori communities are now building capacity to explore opportunities to redress the cultural pain and damage done, and reassert their place in the landscape (Brown, 2016).

So how might this building of capacity and redress happen? How do we proceed? Veracini (2011, 180) writes, “as long as the decolonization of the settler colonial situation remains unresolved, settler colonial present and settler colonial past inevitably resemble each other”. 5. DECOLONISATION AND PLACE More strategically, is Ngā Aho a Māori-centric contestation of colonisation or, what Avril Bell might term, an indigenous strategy of “resistance and assertion[s] of autonomy and survival” (Bell 2014, 3). Ngā Aho is a professional network of Māori architects, landscape architects, designers, engineers and artists. Ngā Aho grew out of a desire to articulate and celebrate, in the world of design, architecture, landscape architecture etc., worldviews that were indigenous. Health professions were perhaps the first to explore application of their discipline through a Māori lens, drawing on, and seeing with, Māori values and principles. Mason Durie, a prominent Māori academic developed a seminal Māori-centric model of health and wellbeing (Durie, 2004) which has had a broad influence on other disciplines enabling wider recognition of the disadvantages inherent in a broad-brush Eurocentric approach to Māori issues. Often this Eurocentric mainstream approach is understood to be scientific and therefore rational and without bias as opposed to indigenous approaches which tend to draw on worldviews which are holistic in nature and therefore entertain the metaphysical. This has often resulted in these ‘other’ worldviews being dismissed. However, there is growing recognition, across a number of disciplines, that there are advantages to both Māori and non-Māori of indigenous ways of understanding the world. In 2007/08, members of Ngā Aho developed and disseminated a set of principles to act as a basis for recognising Māori place based identity and values in towns and cities. Their catalyst was the production, by the Ministry for the Environment, of an Urban Design Protocol, which was a means to stimulate better urban design, but without mention of Māori values. The ‘Te Aranga Principles’ state: ‘As Māori we have a unique sense of our “landscape.” It includes past, present and future. It includes both physical and spiritual dimensions. It is how we express ourselves in our environment. It connects whanau [family] and whenua [land], flora and fauna, through whakapapa. It does not disconnect urban from rural. It transcends the boundaries of ‘land’scape into other ‘scapes’; rivers, lakes, ocean and sky.

It is enshrined in our whakapapa, pepeha [tribal saying], tauparapara [incantation to begin a speech], whaikōrero [a formal speech], karakia [ritual chants], waiata [song, chant], tikanga [correct procedure, custom, lore, method], ngā kōrero a kui ma, a koroua ma [the words of our elders] and our mahi toi [art and architecture].3 1 It is not just where we live – it is who we are!’4 The set of seven Te Aranga principles together with a description of how each might express Māori values and connections to place has been adopted by Māori with authority over Auckland landscapes (mana whenua) and is being implemented and explored as a device for identifying Māori-ness in this space by the Auckland Council (Auckland Design Office website, 2016).2 An example is the principle Mauri Tu which applies to environmental and community health. The Auckland Design Office website states for Mauri Tū: ‘Environmental health is protected, maintained and / or enhanced. …The application of this principle is suggested as: •

Daylighting, restoration and planting of waterways

Contaminated areas of soil are remediated……..’ 5

With the support of the mana whenua of Auckland and encouragement of Ngā Aho, the Auckland Design Office has appointed their first Māori design advocate to investigate these principles and other ways to integrate and inculcate the unique association with place for Māori in Auckland (Auckland Council website, 2016). Ngā Aho’s role extends beyond identifying key landscape management principles with members working in the fields of policy, planning, research, design, advocacy, professional support and education. As an article written for a publication associated with the 2016 Venice Biennale states: Māori are committed to working towards reinstating and developing a physical and metaphysical understanding of cultural landscape within contemporary Aotearoa [New Zealand]... the society creates a multi-disciplinary professional cultural platform, to progress complex cultural issues which span economic, social and cultural concerns. This approach seeks to support wider Māori identity aspirations in an Aotearoa where we can clearly see ‘our faces in place’ (Whaanga-Schollum, 2016). Recognising that working together is key to communication, Ngā Aho supports design professionals through the New Zealand Institute of Landscape Architects as well as architecture, planning and other national design institutes. Ngā Aho’s work is measured but passionate, forthright but takes the Māori principle of generosity to inclusiveness, focusing on things Māori but welcoming the wider community. In addition, the network is embracing of other indigenous peoples through a biannual international indigenous conference I Te Timatanga, (Hooper, 2016) held at a traditional tribal meeting house most recently in 113


February 2016; through a vigorous contribution to an economic sister city conference in Auckland in 2016, and through a wānanga (an in depth unstructured cultural meeting) with Cree professional representatives exploring community and urban mauri (spirit). Ngā Aho also recently facilitated the hosting of two meetings with Māori planning and design practitioners at the behest of the Productivity Commission (an independent Crown entity) to explore planning principles relevant to change for Māori. The network facilitates leadership training for young artists and works within the tertiary education sector to enable Māori design students to be supported. Research on space and place is also supported. Ngā Aho has a memorandum of understanding with the New Zealand Institute of Landscape Architects, and is also working towards a similar agreement with other design based professional bodies such as the New Zealand Institute of Architects to encourage the promotion of a bicultural values approach to design. These large and small steps serve to trouble colonisation in deliberate and meaningful ways. 6. BACK TO PLACE The fight-back for identity and place is one that requires patience and resilience but progress is being made. Māori and western culture are changing and adapting, finding ways of both accommodation and recognition. Practitioners in a range of disciples have previously failed to appreciate that there are other ways of thinking and knowing, and the work to change hearts and minds is slow and requires patience, tact and manaakitanga [generosity] to develop inclusive solutions to space and place matters. Despite the powerful colonising force that place-making has been in Aotearoa New Zealand, today there are exciting examples of how we might turn this on its head and turn placemaking into something generative and identity strengthening. This is our universe, our waka (canoe), and our future.

Acknowledgements Dr Avril Bell for suggestions made on this paper James Brown, Kaiwhakahaere, Ngāi Tai ki Tāmaki Desna Whaanga-Schollum, Chair, Ngā Aho.








his journal explores the simple complexity of defining difference through design some of the findings/articles/insights demonstrate that the inspiration for a creative difference can be found in narratives of the land. The layering of how it has been used, for purpose and by the individual. Articulation of the narrative fosters a deeper understanding of our connection and dependence upon our landscapes, as Dr Diane Menzies said “landscape is not solely an object.... Indigenous knowledge may adopt a more experiential, belief approach to knowledge, with an emphasis on the unique rather than transcendental principles....” (p.10) Through the production of this year’s journal, with the help of local, international and student submissions, our understanding of the divergent nature of narrative guided design has shown a multifaceted approach to design can instil greater context and longevity into our public spaces. Ensuring that we avoid the pitfalls of transitory placemaking for temporary reward. Creating an informed relationship with all that the land is and was means we can better work with the current and future needs of our communities through more informed and consultative design practices. Needs that both inform and foster the next generation to develop design from what has gone before. Narrative based design is also about mentorship of the up and coming professionals still in training. There are many contributors to this issue who have become, through intent and action, an aspirational guide to us. Figures with the moral imperative to raise up those coming behind. To grow and develop newer voices to raise the call once their time is done. This is the living narrative of the profession, one iteration learning from the one that went before. The articles show that through the recurrence of indigenous design we are able to increase the togetherness of diverse approaches and disciplines. To quote Phil Wihongi (p.6) “Like our tūpuna, we look forward to looking open-faced and open-minded across a clear space primed for the meeting of minds and worlds, a fertile space where mātauranga, mana and wairua sit easily with other epistemologies and beliefs that others may bring to our shared challenges and opportunities. Read this as an open-hearted karanga into our space, a call to recognise our mana and rangatiratanga, and the opportunity to come work alongside us, pokohiwi ki pokohiwi. By all means bring the tools and knowledge that you have to challenge and inspire us, but be prepared for challenge and to be inspired by those we bring.”








FOOTNOTES AND REFERENCES PHIL WIHONGI The manifesto of the architectural group. (n.d). On the necessity for architecture.Retrieved from http://www. architecture-archive.auckland.ac.nz/docs/aaGroup_ Manifesto_document_sml.pdf

CARIN WILSON 1 Kelly, L. (2016). The Memory Code: The Traditional Aboriginal Memory Technique That Unlocks the Secrets of Stonehenge, Easter Island and Ancient Monuments the World Over. Allen & Unwin; for Australia and New Zealand in July 2016, and February 2017 by Atlantic Books in the UK and Pegasus Books in the USA.

SARA ZWART 1 Auckland Council. (2014). Auckland Design Office. Retrieved from http://admblog.co.nz/welcome-to-theauckland-design-office-blog-2/

EMILY BOWERMAN 1 Relph, Edward. (1976). Place and Placelessness. London: Pion. 2 Ibid. 3 Seamon, David. (2000). A Way of Seeing People and Place: Phenomenology in Environment- Behavior Research. In S. Wapner, J. Demick, T. Yamamoto, and H. Minami, eds., Theoretical Perspectives in Environment-Behavior Research (pp. 157-78). New York: Plenum.

JACQUELINE PAUL Özçevik, O., Brebbia, C. A., & Sener, S. M. (n.d.). Sustainable development and planning VII. Page 33-36. Interviewees: Da Thi Ngoc Hoa, Nguyen Thi Bich Ngan, Nguyen Vinh Thanh, Tueu Thu Huong, Ms Luu Thi Giang, Ms Tran Thi Hong, Mr Ng Quang Son

TEKEREKERE ROYCROFT Taylor, Ken (2008). Landscape and Memory: Cultural landscapes, intangible values and some thoughts on Asia. In: 16th ICOMOS General Assembly and International Symposium: ‘Finding the spirit of place – between the tangible and the intangible’, 29 sept – 4 oct 2008, Quebec, Canada Roberts, M., Norman, W., Minhinnick, N., wihongi, d & Kirkwood, c. kaitiakitanga: maori perspectives on conservation. in pacific conservation biology, 2(1). 1995.

BELA GRIMSDALE 1Te Henga Bethells Community Hub.(n.d.). History of Te Henga/Bethells Beach. Retrievedf from http://www.tehengabethells.co.nz/history-of-te-hengabethells-beach. html

6 Tukutuku- Algebra of Aotearoa. (2016). Poutama (Stairway to Heaven) Pattern. Retrieved from https:// tukutuku-algebra-of-aotearoa.wikispaces.com/Poutama+(Stairway+to+Heaven)+Pattern 8 Maori Dictionary. (2016). Poutama. Retrieved form http://maoridictionary.co.nz/word/5969

NATALIE COUCH Jahnke, Huia .(1997). ‘Towards a Theory of Mana Wahine’, Te Pūtahi-ā-Toi, Māori Studies, Massey University. He Pukenga Kōrero, Raumati (Summer), Volume 3, Number 1. Ngati Whatua Orakei. (2013). ‘Whenua Rangatira’ Retrieved from http://www.ngatiwhatuaorakei.com/whaimaia-2/toki-taiao/whenua-rangatira/


Ibid, pp. 3-4


Ibid, pp. 3-4

5 Trigger, D. & Mulcock, J. Native vs Exotic: cultural discourses about flora, fauna and belonging in Austrailia. WIT Transactions on Ecology and the Environment, Vol 84, WIT Press, 2005, passim. 6

Ibid, pp. 1

7 Retrieved from http://www.doc.govt.nz/about-us/ international-agreements/convention-on-biological-diversity/

Smith, Linda Tuhiwai. (2012). ‘Decolonizing methodologies: Research and Indigenous Peoples,’ second edition. Zed Books Ltd, London,. NY. (First published 1999)

8 Retrieved from http://www.legislation.govt.nz/act/ public/1991/0069/latest/whole.html

Kawharu, Merata. (2009). ‘Ancestral Landscapes and World Heritage From a Maori Viewpoint’. The Polynesian Society, University of Auckland. Rolleston, Shadrach & Awatere, Shaun. (2009). ‘Ngā hua papakāinga: Habitation design principles.’ MAI Review, Article 2 Awatere, S., Pauling, C., Hoskin, R., & Rolleston, S. (2008). Tū Whare Ora: Building capacity for Māori driven design in sustainable settlement development. Research Report, Landcare Research. Hamilton, New Zealand. Barlow, C. (1991). Tikanga whakaaro: key concepts in Maori culture. Auckland: Oxford University Press. Mead, H.M. (2003). Tikanga Maori: living by Maori values. Wellington: Huia Publishers. Pere, Rangimarie Rose. (1982). Ako: concepts and learning in the Maori tradition. Department of Sociology, University of Waikato, Hamilton. Pere, Rangimarie Rose Pere. (1990). Tangata Whenua in Puna. Wairere: Essays by Maori, New Zealand Planning Council,Wellington. Barlow, Cleve. (1991). Tikanga Whakaaro. Oxford University Press, Auckland. Kereopa, Hohepa. (2003). ‘Tohunga’. David Ling Publishing Ltd Birkenhead, Auckland. Unitec. (2016). ‘Our Partnership’. Retrieved from http:// www.unitec.ac.nz/maori/who-we-are/our-partnership Pod Gardening, Takaparawhau Bastion Point, Tamaki Makaurau Auckland | (August 2015) http://www.podgardening.co.nz/ngati-whatua-orakei.html

3 Waitakere Council. (2011). Human Heritage. Retrieved from http://www.waitakere.govt.nz/abtcit/ne/ pdf/2011/backgroundrpt-part2-humanheritage.pdf

Badham, T. (2011). The Garden of Knowledge. Sustainable Contemporary Māori development-Creating new frontiers with a clear rear view mirror Retrieved from http://www.ngaaho.maori.nz/documents/resources/ 20111011123015TheGardenofKnowledgebyTerryBadham.pdf

5 ibid.

2 Graham, P. Building Ecology, First Principles for a Sustainable Built Environment. Blackwell Science Ltd, a Blackwell Publishing company, 2003, passim.

Gifford, Adam. (2005). NZHerald. Retrieved from http:// www.nzherald.co.nz/lifestyle/news/article.cfm?c_id=6&objectid=10339935NZ

2 The Māori history and legends of the Waitakere Ranges. John T Diamond (John Thomas), 1912-; Bruce W Hayward (Bruce William). 1979 (p.32)

4 The Māori history and legends of the Waitakere Ranges. John T Diamond (John Thomas), 1912-; Bruce W Hayward (Bruce William). 1979 (p.13)

1 Girot, C. Vision in motion: Representing Landscape in Time in The landscape Urbanism Reader, Princeton Architectural Press: NY, 2006, pp. 89.


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Voyages, Volume Two, The Voyage of the Resolution and Adventure 1772 – 1775, Melbourne, 1985, p. 21. 24 Garibaldi, A. & Turner, N., Cultural Keystone Species: Implications for Ecological Conservation and Restoration. Ecology and Society 9(3): 1. [online] URL: http://www.ecologyandsociety.org/vol9/iss3/art1/ 25 Ibid. 26 ibid. 27 For example the recent debate regarding naturalised non-invasive exotics, tulip trees (Liriodendron tulipifera) in Auckland’s CBD. 28 Retrieved from http://www.biosecurity.govt.nz/pests/ queensland-fruit-fly#about 29 Wilson, A. J. Insect frugivore interactions : the potential for beneficial and neutral effects on host plants, PhD by Publication, 2008, Queensland University of Technology.

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DR DIANE MENZIES & DR REBECCA KIDDLE 1 See the following for fuller versions of this history Walker, Ranginui. 1990. Ka whawhai tonu matou: Struggle without end, Penguin Books; Orange, Claudia. The Treaty of Waitangi, Allen and Unwin, 1987 2 Hoskins, Rau. 2008. Cultural Landscapes In Re-thinking urban environments and health, Public Health Advisory Committee, September 2008, 30 3 Missing from this text is mention of karanga, the call of the women, which is the first speech of ceremonial welcome. 4 Whaanga-Schollum, D. Ed. 2008. Te Aranga Cultural Landscapes. 5 Auckland City Council. 2008. Te Aranga Cultural Landscapes, Edition 2.

BIBLIOGRAPHY Bell, Avril. Relating Indigenous and Settler Identities: Beyond Domination. Houndsmill, Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. 2014. Berg, L. D., & Kearns, R. A. ‘Naming as norming: ‘race’, gender, and the identity politics of naming places in Aotearoa/New Zealand. In Environment and Planning D: Society and Space, 14(1), 99-122. 1996. Brown, James. personal communication Kaiwhakahaere of Ngāi Tai, 2016. Carter, Paul. The Road to Botany Bay: An Essay in Spatial History, London: Faber & Faber, 1987. Chakasim, K.J, Ngā Aho wānanga, Unitec, pers comm., June 8, 2016. Durie, Mason. ‘Understanding health and illness: research at the interface between science and indigenous knowledge’. In International Journal of Epidemiology, 33(5) 1138-1148, 2004. Hooper, Hayley. I Te Timatanga/The Beginning. In Architecture Now, http://architecturenow.co.nz/articles/i-te-timatanga-the-beginning/, 2016. Hoskins, Rau. (2008). ‘Cultural Landscapes’ In Re-thinking urban environments and health, Public Health Advisory Committee, September 2008. Menzies, Diane & Ruru, Jacinta. Indigenous Peoples’ Right to Landscape in Aotearoa New Zealand. In The Right to Landscape Contesting Landscape and Human Rights edited by Egoz, Makhzoumi and Pungetti, p142. England: Ashgate, 2011. Ngā Pae o te Māraramatanga. (2010). Traditional Knowledge Conference 2008 Te Tatou Pounamu: The Greenstone Door, University of Auckland, New Zealand. Orange, Claudia.1987. The Treaty of Waitangi, Allen and Unwin. Veracini, Lorenzo. Isopolitics, Deep Colonizing, Settler Colonialism. In Interventions: International Journal of Postcolonial Studies, Vol 13:2, pp 171-189, 2011.

Walker, Ranginui. Ka whawhai tonu matou: Struggle without end, Penguin Books, 1990. Whaanga-Schollum, Desna. Weaving Many Strands, In Koha, 12-13, New Zealand Institute of Architects, 2016. Rebecca Kiddle is Ngāti Porou and Ngā Puhi and is a Lecturer in Environmental Studies and Geography at Victoria University of Wellington in Aotearoa New Zealand. Her background is in Urban Design and, in particular Māori Place Identity. Diane Menzies has links to Ngāti Kahungunu iwi and is a director of Landcult Ltd, a research and education consultancy. She was a Commissioner of the New Zealand Environment Court, and has a background in landscape architecture, resource management and mediation.



Dr Diane Menzies


Nicholas Dalton




Rau Hoskins


Sara Zwart


Tom Mansell


Rachel Griffiths


Jerome Partington Craig Pauling



Ethan Reid


Andrew Preistley




Alex Luiten

ac_luiten@hotmail.com valentine.hr@gmail.com

Emily Bowerman


Jake Chakasim Hannah Valentine


STUDENT Kirrily Poliko


Bela Hinemoa Grimsdale


Glen Ridley


Te Kerekere Roycroft


Natalie Couch


Nick Slattery

Jacqueline Paul


Luke Veldhuizen

jaackiepaul@gmail.com lukeveldhuizen@gmail.com

Gabrielle Howdle


Sofia Fourman


Brooke Foley


PEER REVIEW Pete Griffiths


Dr Hamish Foote

Dr Diane Menzies

hfoote@unitec.ac.nz drdhmenzies@ark.co.nz

Desna Whaanga-Schollum Alayna Renata



Mark Lowe


Rebecca Kiddle


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