Ngā Aho o te Taiao – Thread of the Natural World

Kia ora and welcome to the Matariki Collection.

As the seven stars of Matariki rise in the winter sky, we enter a time of reflection, remembrance, gratitude, and new beginnings. This collection emerged during that period of reflection, prompting me to think about loved ones who have passed, the ending of a year filled with upheaval, change, love, and whānau.

One of the things I am most grateful for is reconnecting with my sister and the relationship we continue to nurture together. I have also spent time appreciating the whenua around me. Looking across the space my partner has poured so much energy, care, and attention into creating, I am reminded every day of the abundance and peace it brings. What was once simply land has become a sanctuary for us, and for that I am deeply grateful.

This collection was initially developed for a curtain design competition in the United States. Although the designs were not selected, the kaupapa behind them continued to resonate with me long after the competition had ended. The concept I envisioned, Ngā Aho o te Taiao (Threads of the Natural World), became a way of exploring memories, relationships, and the natural world that has shaped my creative practice.

The designs draw inspiration from memories of helping my mother create tukutuku panels. Much of my childhood was spent around weaving, harvesting materials, preparing fibres, and watching stories emerge through pattern and process. Native plants such as toitoi, harakeke, and muka were never simply materials; they carried knowledge, practice, and connection.

Choosing only three designs for the competition proved difficult. Ideas are rarely in short supply. Yet I kept returning to these three elements because each represents a different relationship with the natural world—structure, transformation, and movement.

Harakeke

Harakeke has always been an important part of my life. I remember helping my mother establish and maintain her pā harakeke, learning that different varieties had different purposes. As a child, I would charge headfirst into the flax bushes, spiders and all, searching for the best leaves to harvest.

I learned early that harvesting was an act of care. The rito, the central shoot, remained untouched and protected by its parent leaves. We would bundle the harvested leaves and move them to the preparation area where stripping, sorting, and processing would begin.

It was hard work, but I loved being alongside Mum. Every stage carried a sense of purpose because we knew something beautiful would emerge from the effort.

For this design, I focused on the korari, the flowering stalk of harakeke. Its form speaks to continuity, growth, and connection. Translating those qualities into a surface pattern became a way of honouring both the plant itself and the generations of knowledge that surround it.

Muka

Muka is one of the most beautiful materials I know.

Revealing muka requires patience. The outer layers of the harakeke leaf are carefully removed until only the fibre remains. What emerges is something remarkably strong despite its softness and delicacy.

I have always been fascinated by that process of transformation. Strength is not added; it is revealed.

The design inspired by muka explores that idea. Fine lines and layered structures reference the fibres themselves while acknowledging the skill, labour, and knowledge passed from one generation to the next. For me, muka represents the threads that connect story to material, memory to making, and the past to the present.

ToiToi

Some of my fondest memories involve making tukutuku panels with my mother.

We would sit on opposite sides of the work. Mum would determine the pattern while I assisted in bringing it to life. Together, we created panels that would later sit between carved pou in meeting houses or be used to teach tauira about design and cultural narratives.

Those experiences taught me that design is more than decoration. Pattern can hold meaning, carry stories, and communicate identity.

Toitoi played an important role in that work. Traditionally used in tukutuku construction and the lining of meeting houses, it was a versatile material that our tūpuna transformed through ingenuity and creativity.

The design in this collection draws inspiration from the kākaho, the flowering stem of the plant. I was interested in its lightness and movement—the way it responds to wind and weather, constantly shifting yet remaining rooted. It offered a contrast to the more structured forms of harakeke and muka.

I chose the name ToiToi as a play on both the plant and the Māori concept of toi—creativity, artistry, and the making of meaningful work. It honours the ingenuity of our tūpuna, whose understanding of the natural world enabled them to transform everyday materials into expressions of culture, identity, and story.

A Shared Visual Language 

While each design draws inspiration from a different element of the natural world, they are connected through a layered visual language of texture, pattern, and memory. Across the collection, subtle woven motifs reference the practice of raranga, creating a narrative thread that connects harakeke, muka, and toitoi. Rendered in soft light-grey tones, these woven elements are intended to sit quietly within the designs—more like an essence or presence than a dominant feature—reflecting the unseen connections between people, place, and knowledge.

A second layer of texture draws inspiration from the fibrous structure revealed when harakeke is cut and prepared for weaving. These finer linear details speak to the transformation of natural materials through skilled hands and carry echoes of the muka preparation process. Depicted in tones of turquoise and grey, they add depth, movement, and visual rhythm to each design.

The colour palette for the Matariki Collection is inspired by the landscape and atmosphere of Aotearoa during the Māori New Year. Rich Midnight Blue reflects the winter night sky and the rising stars of Matariki, while Hot Mud Grey references the hot pools of the Waiariki. Sage Green, Rangi Blue, Clay, and Terracotta draw from native plants, soil, sky, and the enduring relationship between whenua and people. Together, these colours create a palette that feels both grounded and expansive, honouring the natural world that inspired the collection.

Looking Back, Looking Forward

While this collection began as a competition entry, it ultimately became something much more personal. It gave me an opportunity to revisit memories of working alongside my mother, reflect on the knowledge embedded within our native plants, and explore how those stories might find new expression through contemporary design.

At its heart, Ngā Aho o te Taiao is about connection—to whenua, to whānau, to memory, and to the enduring relationships that continue to guide us.

As we celebrate Matariki, I am reminded that creativity often begins with reflection. By looking back, we gain a clearer understanding of where we come from and the stories that continue to shape us.

I hope this collection encourages others to pause for a moment, appreciate the natural world around them, and consider the threads that connect them to their own stories, people, and places.

Mānawatia a Matariki. ✨

Ngā mihi mahana – many warm thanks
Henriata