A Long Journey to Understand

TIn 2014 I spent time in the Amazon, Maynas province, Peru. I met a Bora tribesman by the name of Bermudas. When he found I am an artist he offered me the most profound gift of Llanchama. Llanchama is the inner bark of the Ojé tree and is pounded into a robust cloth for clothing and headwear, the Bora then paint, embroider and adorn it with feathers. I had this large two metres by almost two metre rectangular sheet, a rolled up cylinder of barkcloth deep in the jungle. When it was time to leave some weeks later I put the cylinder on my shoulder, my pack on my back and began hiking. I had a two hour walk on a muddy track through the forest to reach a small beach where i set about waiting for a passing canoe. This tiny spot is a regular spot so it was only four hours 'til a dugout arrived to drop a couple of people off. The prized cylinder on my shoulder we paddled to the next 'station' where I boarded a small and narrow motor-powered canoe. The driveshafts are on gimbals and tilt in and out of the water to propel the canoe along quickly with a small propellor. Safely disembarking with the barkcloth aloft I hailed a motorbike and rode into Iquitos. I was heading home to Aotearoa NZ so spent the night in Iquitos to wash and get up the next day, board a car to catch a small plane to Lima, the capital. A week in Lima and the cloth is still rolled up, clean and bright about to be put in the overhead locker to Chile, transferred in Santiago to another overhead locker on a penultimate jet through to customs in Auckland NZ. One more flight onto Wellington where my friend Rachael collected me standing proudly with my Llanchama roll still sitting there on my shoulder. A car trip to my house and the epic transportation of Amazonian Bark cloth to Wellington NZ came to an end. I waited for five years to understand what I was doing with it in my studio, why it had such presence and how I could treat it with the dignity and relevance it deserved. I began to paint my plant-centric pattern in recognition of its provenance. Following the tradition in embroidering the cloth I have embarked on a mission to complete each leaf and to define the coloured seed spots. The leaves form a musical score that rises and sinks in intensity. Representing staves annotated with plant life the music surges in waves rhythmically attuned to the resonating forest. Insect noises like laser zaps punctuate with buzzing, whirring, beeping and honking. All kinds of rustling and crashing one can imagine form an intense fabric of seemingly deafening sounds. There is a consistency, a union of disharmony with harmony. Strangely, sleep in the jungle is supported, encouraged by the cacophony and the days enlivened and enhanced by myriad dissonance. I understand Bermudas and his family and tribe are cared for by the jungle, provided for. In return they diligently care for the forest, their carer. Their original life force.
​    The progress is slow, slow and steady. Much like the journey across the planet from Amazonas to Aotearoa. The next stage will be stretching it over a frame.