Return of the Pīwakawaka

When I'm working on my sculptures, using a steel hammer and mallet, striking stone, the pīwakawaka come, drawn by the sound of me tapping away at the sculpture. They flutter around me as I work, curious and restless, like dolphins alongside a boat, wanting to be seen and noticed. They make themselves present because they want you to notice them as much as they're noticing you. Over time, they've become familiar visitors. They come and go as they please.

But during a three-day mindfulness retreat on Banks Peninsula, the way they hung around me shifted into something deeper. I was there to find quiet, to step away from the noise and the weight of family illness. The native forest track became part of that reset. Each day as I walked, the pīwakawaka would dart out again, the same joyful presence, the same bright energy.

Then, after the retreat, the image of them in flight circling a luminous centre lodged itself deep in my subconscious mind and wouldn't leave me.

By the time I left the retreat, the painting was already finished in my mind. I just had to pick up the brush and let it out. And in doing so, I finally released everything I'd been carrying. This painting was as much about healing as it was about beauty.

A Painting Made for a Friend

This particular work was commissioned by Michelle, a friend I made during that retreat who later became my massage therapist. She had seen the original Dance of the Pīwakawaka and loved both the painting and the story behind it. When she asked if I could create something for her home, I said yes without hesitation.

Her home is a classic New Zealand bungalow with beautiful wood panelling, and the painting was measured and made specifically for the wall space above it, approximately one metre wide. Looking at it installed in her home, it's hard to imagine it anywhere else. It belongs there.