Hawaiʻi: a kingdom crossing oceans @ the British Museum

I didn’t read the press and publicity stuff closely enough so I vaguely thought this would be a general exhibition about historical Hawaiian art and culture – but I was wrong. It’s far more structured, nuanced and focused than that.

Featherwork and ornaments that evoke a gathering of ali‘i (chiefs) on display in ‘Hawaiʻi: a kingdom crossing oceans’ at the British Museum © The Trustees of the British Museum (photo by MKH)

A meeting of kings

The centrepiece of the show is that 200 years ago, in 1824, King Kamehameha II and Queen Kamāmalu became the first Hawaiian monarchs to visit the UK. It took them and ten of their courtiers 5 months (November 1823 to May 1824) to sail here on a Royal Navy ship and when they arrived they were treated with the courtesy and respect according any visiting monarch.

They met with the recently crowned British monarch, King George IV (crowned July 1821), and exchanged gifts: they gave our king beautiful hand-made cloaks, and received in return a silver teapot and a watch, among other luxury objects. They were dressed in the latest fashions, had their portraits painted by the court painter John Hayter, went to the theatre, were even the subject of the usual scathing regency satirical cartoons.

Portraits, cartoons and sumptuous gifts are all included here, along with a map of their route (they stopped at Buenos Aires along the way, and handed out gifts there, too).

Portrait of King Kamehameha II (left) and Queen Kamāmalu (right). Hand-coloured lithographs by John Hayter © The Trustees of the British Museum

Tragically – disastrously – after a few weeks, the handsome young king and queen both caught measles and died from it. Their courtiers returned to Hawaiʻi with the gifts but without a king, who was promptly replaced by his younger brother Kauikeaouli, who became King Kamehameha III and went on to reign for 30 years (June 1825 to December 1854).

It is this extraordinary event which provides the centrepiece of this exhibition. The show can be divided into the following parts:

1. Background facts

It opens with a brief recap of the history of Hawaii, complete with maps. Here’s a summary:

Hawaiʻi consists of 137 volcanic islands spanning 1,500 miles that make up almost the entire Hawaiian archipelago (the exception is Midway Atoll).

The eight main islands, from northwest to southeast, are Niʻihau, Kauaʻi, Oʻahu, Molokaʻi, Lānaʻi, Kahoʻolawe, Maui, and Hawaiʻi, after which the state is named. The last is often called the Big Island or Hawaiʻi Island to avoid confusion with the state or archipelago.

The archipelago was settled between 1000 and 1200 by Polynesian seafarers navigating by the stars and following the flight of migratory birds. Over the centuries, the islands became the seats of numerous independent chiefdoms.

In 1778, British explorer James Cook was the first known non-Polynesian to arrive at the archipelago (he was to go on to be killed here, after a tragic cultural misunderstanding). The early British influence is reflected in the Hawaiian state flag, which contains a Union Jack.

King Kamehameha I, also known as Kamehameha the Great, unified the Hawaiian Islands by force and diplomacy, establishing the Kingdom of Hawaiʻi in 1795 and completing unification by 1810, creating a single, powerful monarchy from separate chiefdoms.

It was his son, Kamehameha II, who succeed Kamehameha in 1819, who undertook the journey to Britain. the backstory is that in April 1822, English missionary William Ellis arrived with a schooner, the Prince Regent, to add to the King’s growing collection of ships (!). It was a gift from George IV the King of Great Britain and Kamehameha II wrote to thank him, requesting closer diplomatic ties. It was from this gesture and this correspondence that the idea was born for the royal court to journey to the other side of the planet to meet the British king.

Display of Akua hulu manu (feathered gods) in ‘Hawaiʻi: a kingdom crossing oceans’ at the British Museum © The Trustees of the British Museum (photo by MKH)

Language and pronunciation

The Hawaiian language is referred to as Ölelo Hawali and terms and phrases from it are used throughout the exhibition.

Apparently, the correct pronunciation of Hawaiʻi is to insert a glottal stop before the final ‘e’ sound. What is a glottal stop? Imagine saying in a broad Cockney accent, the following phrase: ‘Wotta lotta little bottles’ so that it sounds like ‘Wo’a lo’a ‘li’el bo’els’, where you don’t voice the t sound. Same with Hawa [glottal stop] ee.

2. Hawaiʻi culture, beliefs and crafts

Having painted in this background, the exhibition then devotes the first big space to giving an overview of the gods, traditional beliefs, arts and crafts of the Hawaiian people at around the time of the royal visit. (Here we discover, amid much else, that the British Museum holds one of the largest collections of Hawaiian objects in the world outside of Hawaiʻi.)

Wooden ki‘i (images) that embody kua (gods) in ‘Hawaiʻi: a kingdom crossing ocean’ at the British Museum © The Trustees of the British Museum (photo by MKH)

Highlights include:

  • a nine-foot kiʻi (image) of the god Kū, the god of warfare and governance, dressed with a contemporary loincloth and standing atop a pole
  • a magnificent ʻahu ʻula (feathered cloak) sent in 1810 by the first king of unified Hawaiʻi, Kamehameha I, to King George III, the largest known example of its kind

There are striking statues of wooden gods (see above), wooden bowls, plumed hats, gorgeous cloaks made from bird feathers, and a wall of coloured barkcloths.

kapa (barkcloth) pieces on display in Hawaiʻi: a kingdom crossing oceans at the British Museum © The Trustees of the British Museum (photo by MKH)

Barkcloth: Kapa (barkcloth) is made from the inner bark (bast) of the paper mulberry and other plant fibres. As a medium, kapa is a connector between the land, the people and the gods. Different forms of kapa had many uses, from everyday life to ritual practice, including as chiefly garments, spacial dividers, blankets and wrappings for bones.

HelmetsMahiole (helmets) were worn in battle and in ceremonial contexts, often together with ʻahu ʻula (feathered cloaks and capes). The head has particular significance in Hawaiʻi as one of three centres in the body where the aumākua (deified ancestors) hover. Each helmet is unique and identifies the bearer as a chief. The structure is woven from the aerial roots of a climbing plant called ʻieʻie and is often adorned with feathers.

Gods: Origin stories tell that the islands were birthed by the gods. High chiefs were manifestations of the gods on earth. Through rituals, chefs could protect the people and ensure the land’s abundance. In turn, the people revered their chiefs and cultivated the land, gathering materials and nurturing resources. Craftspeople created precious items that honoured their chief.

Kū and Lono: Kū is a Hawaiian god whose realm includes warfare and governance and that in the Hawaiian ritual calendar, the season of Kū begins in January-February and ends in October-November. At that point Ku is replaced by Lono, a deity associated with harvest, peace and recreation. (So we are currently in the season of Kū.)

Here’s one of the exhibition’s carved wooden artefacts, which experts thinks depicts a chief, as indicated by the loincloth round his waist and the feathered headdress.

ʻUmeke kiʻi (bowl with figure) © The Trustees of the British Museum

In addition, there are feathered cloaks worn by chiefs, powerful shark-toothed weapons, spears and clubs, and much more.

3. The meeting of kings

As described above, this is the centrepiece of the show and includes displays of ceremonial cloaks, lithographs of the king and queen, portraits and pictures of them at the theatre, the silver teapot, the silver watch and a couple of satirical cartoons depicting a lecherous King George groping a buxom native queen, in the comically gross style of Regency cartoons.

Installation view of ‘Hawaiʻi a kingdom crossing oceans’ at the British Museum showing the gallery devoted to the royal visit © The Trustees of the British Museum (photo by MKH)

Red

The exhibition displays a large Hawaa’ian feathered cloak near to George IV’s coronation surcoat and this triggers fascinating thoughts about a) the persistence of monarchy and king worship across the most diverse societies, b) the need these have for grand costumes and regalia, and c) the importance of the colour red. In fact red, as you can see from the images, is the really dominant colour of the exhibition: you can see for yourself that the cloaks in particular include yellow and black patterning, but it’s almost always against a core background colour of red.

King George IV’s coronation surcoat (left) and a cloak belonging to King Kamehameha II (right) displayed so you can make a direct comparison of size, shape, colour and impact, in Hawaiʻi: a kingdom crossing oceans @ the British Museum (photos by the author)

4. Alliance with Britain

Having established the close connection between Great Britain and Hawaiʻi which existed from its discovery by the West, the exhibition then explains that for 70 or so years after the 1824 visit, the two countries maintained close relations. When a zealous Royal Navy officer, Captain Lord George Paulet of HMS Carysfort, in 1843 illegally occupied Hawaiʻi and tried to formally annex the kingdom for Britain, King Kamehameha III wrote to the British government who recalled Paulet and assured the King of ongoing Hawaiian independence.

Negotiations were already underway which led in November of the same year (1843) to Great Britain and France signing the Anglo-Franco Proclamation, a joint declaration that formally recognized the independence and sovereignty of the Kingdom of Hawaiʻi. This agreement committed both nations to never take possession of Hawaiian territory, either directly or as a protectorate.

There’s a copy of the Proclamation in the exhibition, on loan from The National Archives and the curators tell us that the precise date, 28 November 1843, is still celebrated in Hawai’i today as Lā Kū’oko’a (Independence Day).

5. Annexation by the US

However, as we progress through the exhibition, the next key moment in the nation’s history came when America annexed Hawaiʻi. Like all historical events, this was more complex and fraught than it is now presented, with a background of political problems within Hawaiʻi exacerbated by the commercial interests of European and American businesses which owned extensive sugar and pineapple plantations. In 1893 a group of Western businessmen persuaded the local American agent to allow US marines to take part in the (peaceful) overthrow of the native government and to establish the Republic of Hawaii; and then lobbied Congress and the Senate to formally annex the islands, which the United States did 5 years later, in 1898. (Just worth reminding ourselves that the nearest part of the Hawaiian archipelago is 2,000 miles from the American mainland.)

The Hawaiian monarch, Queen Liliʻuokalani, protested against the coup but, when weapons were found in the palace which might have been used by loyalist forces, was placed under house arrest. She appealed to the British government, invoking the Anglo-Franco Proclamation but, to our shame, and as so often, we did nothing to defend the monarchy we had so enthusiastically hosted in 1824. Instead, in 1895 Queen Liliʻuokalani was forced to abdicate, thus ending the Hawaiian monarchy.

Even at the time, there was a great deal of debate in America, among politicians and the press, about the rights and wrongs of the coup and President Grover Cleveland opposed annexation. However, he was replaced by President William McKinley who pushed for annexation, which formally took place in July 1898. There then followed the inevitable sequence of assimilation whereby, first of all, in February 1900, the Hawaiian Islands became a US ‘incorporated territory’; and then in August 1959, the territory was officially declared America’s 50th state.

(For comparison, the contemporaneous Spanish-American war of 1898 ended with the Treaty of Paris (1898) whereby Spain ceded 1) Puerto Rico, 2) Guam and 3) the Philippines to the United States. The Philippines were a US colony from 1898 until given independence in 1946 whereas Guam and Puerto Rico remain to this day parts of the US as self-governing, ‘unincorporated territories’, meaning people born there are US citizens, they use US currency and passports, but residents can’t vote in presidential elections and have limited representation in Congress.)

And then, just as inevitably, came the modern attack of imperial guilt and in 1993 the US Congress passed the Apology Resolution, apologising for America’s role in the illegal annexation of the Hawaiian nation, which was signed by President Bill Clinton.

Throughout the annexation process the majority of Hawaiians wished to remain independent and this is signalled here in the exhibition by a picture of ʻAuʻa Haunani-Kay Trask (1949 to 2021). Trask was ‘a prominent Native Hawaiian activist, scholar, author and poet who was a leading figure in the Hawaiian sovereignty movement. She was known for her fierce advocacy against US imperialism, the illegal occupation of the Hawaiian Kingdom, and the commodification of Hawaiian culture by the tourism industry.’

Trask is quoted, on the centenary of the annexation in 1993, making the simple statement: ‘We are not American’ and this is the text you see running in lines across this striking portrait, part of a series of 108 photographic portraits of Kānaka Oiwi (Native Hawaiians) made by Hawaiian artist Kapulani Landgraf.

Photo of ʻAuʻa Haunani-Kay Trask in ‘Hawaiʻi: a kingdom crossing oceans’ at the British Museum © Kapulani Landgraf 2025

All of which makes for a thought-provoking read in light of President Trump’s ongoing threats to annex Greenland against the wishes of its (57,000) population…

6. Contemporary Hawaii

After this striking photo of Trask, we enter the final part of the exhibition, which focuses on contemporary Hawaiʻi.

Contemporary arts

I haven’t yet found space to mention that throughout the show, right from the start, the older objects have been interspersed with contemporary works made in the traditional style but made by contemporary Kānaka ʻŌiwi (Native Hawaiian) artists. These include:

Statue: A statue of historical figure Kekuaokalani, Liholiho’s cousin, who rebelled against the King’s decision to overturn the ‘ai kapu religious system. He was defeated and killed by Liholiho’s forces at the battle of Kuamo’o. The statue was made by contemporary carver Rocky Ka’iouliokahihikolo’Ehu Jensen after the traditional manner of articulated figures depicted in early drawings of Ahu’ena, defender of Hawaiian gods and faith.

Drum: Right at the start of the exhibition there’s a pahu or drum. Drums were thought to have been brought to Hawaiʻi by one of the first ancestors, named Laamaikahiki. The ancestors travelled from a place they called Kahiki, possibly in the Society or Marquesas Islands. But the point is that the drum in question isn’t an antique but was hand-carved by contemporary Native Hawaiian artist Dennis Kanale Keawe.

Akeanaliʻi by Dennis Kanaʻe Keawe (b. 1944). Made of kamani wood, shark skin, ʻaha (coconut cordage), carbon black soot coating, 2020

Contemporary videos

In the same spirit, sprinkled throughout the show are four or five short videos which show contemporary living practitioners of traditional arts and crafts explaining their practice. Take the drum, above – there’s a 90-second clip of La’akna Perry performing a mele or chant using the drum. Elsewhere:

  • Barkcloth: Hina Kneubuhl, a contemporary maker of kapa (Hawaiian barkcloth), explains how barkcloth is created and decorated, and how contemporary artists draw inspiration from ancestral works.
  • Hula: La’akea Perry, a Hawaiian kumu hula (dance master teacher), explains the importance of hula as a living practice and how it is taught today. He is filmed dancing with a newly made version of a ‘ulī’ulī (dance rattle), next to an historic example.

There’s also a general soundscape which floats across the displays, featuring the sound of waves breaking over lava beds and the sound of wind blowing through a coconut grove. All very soothing given that outside the Museum, the rain was pouring down in the gritty streets of central London.

Contemporary problems

No doubt there are all kinds of issues and ideas and things which could be written about contemporary Hawaii. The exhibition has selected a handful of areas where the state faces severe challenges and highlights how locals are trying to address them. these are mostly deep environmental issues which made for depressing reading.

1. Birds: Many of the mea kupuna or ancestral treasures on display in the exhibition – the many cloaks and other objects like coronets – were made from feathers taken from native birds. They were gathered sustainably – meaning the feathers were plucked in moderation from live birds which were then released – from species like the ‘ō’o, which was prized for its bright yellow plumage.

Today, many of Hawai’i’s unique bird species are extinct, including the ‘o’o. Those that survive are critically endangered. Avian diseases introduced from overseas have had a devastating effect, while natural habitats have been impacted by intensifying human activity. The art of featherwork continues but makers mostly use feathers from other bird species, often dyed.

2. The sea: There are almost one hundred Hawaiian fish hooks in the British Museum’s collection, reflecting the longstanding importance of fishing in Hawai’i, and also indicating the close interaction between early British crews and local fishing communities. There’s a display showing hooks with different shapes and materials designed to snare particular species of fish; the largest hook on show here was used to catch sharks.

Again, the contemporary situation is dire. Commercial overfishing in Hawaiian waters has led to a significant decline in fish populations and contributed to food insecurity for local people.

Fishing hooks in ‘Hawaiʻi: a kingdom crossing oceans’ at the British Museum (photo by the author)

3. Agriculture: Kalo (taro) is such an important crop in Hawai’i that it is described as an ancestor in origin stories. Its tuber is pounded to make a dish called poi. But over the century of American occupation much of Hawai’i’s agricultural land was turned into monoculture plantations of sugar cane and pineapples. Some communities are now reclaiming land, aiming to restore the environment by planting crops like kalo, but they’ve a mountain to climb.

7. Ownership

Quite often at these sorts of exhibitions the curators have to apologise for the fact that lots of the artefacts were looted or stolen from their original owners – so it’s nice to visit an exhibition where both sides were surprisingly polite and respectful. All the artefacts in the royal visit section are well attested as gifts from the royal delegation and many of the other arts and crafts objects are on loan from museums in Hawaii. The relatively small number of objects which were possibly stolen by naval officers or missionaries are all carefully marked and indicated.

Indeed the Museum goes out of its way to explain that the entire show was assembled in collaboration with Native Hawaiian stewards. Apparently this extended to an opening ceremony on the day it opened which started with a native Hawaiian ceremony to greet the sunrise, and then progressed to blessing this space which contains so many objects crafted by the ancestors.

And, as my summary indicates, wherever possible the curators have used terms and phrases from the ʻōlelo Hawaiʻi (Hawaiian language) alongside the English captions. The entire thing radiates respect and sensitivity.

8. Hope

Is there any hope for the future? Well, obviously not, but in order to live we all have to pretend there is. And so the exhibition ends with the projection onto a wall of a video showing four young Hawaiian students reciting a poem of hope for the future written by Hawaiian poet Brandy Nälani McDougall. The pattern and rhythm echo a traditional chant we heard earlier in the exhibition, another example of the way the curators, and their Hawaiian advisers, have tried to tie ancient and modern together into a living fabric.

Wall-sized video of students from Kamehameha School reciting the poem by Brandy Nälani McDougall in ‘Hawaiʻi: a kingdom crossing oceans’ at the British Museum (photo by the author)


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Oceania @ The Royal Academy

How to say Oceania

First the pronunciation. All the curators and scholars on the audio-guide (£2.50 and well worth it) pronounce it: O-SHE-EH-KNEE-ER. They are mostly Oceanians themselves (Aussies and Kiwis). Whereas Tim Marlow, the Royal Academy’s artistic director, pronounces it: O-SHE-ARE-KNEE-ER. Maybe that’s the British pronunciation.

The map

Second, the map. Oceania is immense, covering – at its widest extent, about a third of the earth’s surface. Yet it is almost all water. Apart from the continent of Australia, the big islands of New Guinea and New Zealand, it mainly comprises hundreds of small to tiny islands or atolls, scattered over the immensity of the Pacific Ocean.

Map of Oceania

Map of Oceania

It was only later that European geographers divided the vast area into Polynesia (Greek for ‘many islands’), Melanesia (meaning ‘islands of black people’) and Micronesia (‘small islands’).

The people

It took a vast period of time for them to be settled. Indigenous Australians migrated from Africa to Asia around 70,000 years ago, and arrived in Australia around 50,000 years ago. Papua New Guinea was first colonised 30,000 years ago.

But most of the islands of Oceania were populated a lot later (or more recently), starting maybe around 3,000 to 3,500 BC on Fiji, 1400 BC in the Bismarck Archipelago, 1000 BC on Tonga, 300 to 400 AD for Easter Island and Hawaii, New Zealand between 800 and 1200 AD.

So the problem any exhibition of ‘Oceania’ faces is this extraordinary diversity of histories, cultures, languages and religions to be found over this vast extent.

The timeline

It can be simplified as:

  1. Tribal peoples travel across the islands, settling them over a huge time span from 50,000 BC to 400 AD.
  2. European discovery: various Pacific islands were ‘discovered’ from the 16th century onwards by European explorers from Portugal, Spain and Holland (e.g. the Dutchman Abel Tasman who gave his name to Tasmania in 1642). But Anglocentric narratives tend to focus on the four voyages of Captain James Cook, the first of which arrived at Tahiti in 1769 with Cook going on to map the islands of the Pacific more extensively than any man before or since.
  3. Colonisation: during the 19th century one by one the islands fell under the control of European powers, namely Britain and France and Holland, with Germany arriving late in the 19th century and then America seizing various islands at the turn of the 20th century. Everywhere Europeans tried to impose European law, brought missionaries who tried to stamp out tribal customs, sometimes used the people as forced labour, and everywhere brought diseases like smallpox which devastated native populations.
  4. Political awakening: during my lifetime i.e. the last 30 or 40 years, the voices of native peoples in all the islands have been increasingly heard, fighting for political independence, demanding reparations for colonial-era injustices, a great resurgence of cultural and artistic activity by native peoples determined to have their own stories heard, and a great wind of change through western institutions and audiences now made to feel guilty about their colonial legacy, and invited to ask questions about whether we should return all the objects in our museums to their original owners.
  5. Global warming: unfortunately, at the same time as this great artistic and political awakening has taken place, we have learned that humanity is heating up the world, sea-levels will rise and that a lot of Oceania’s sacred places, historic sites and even entire islands are almost certainly going to be submerged and lost.

The peg for the exhibition

250 years ago, in August 1768, the Royal Academy was founded by George III. Four months earlier, Captain James Cook had set off on his epoch-making expedition to the Pacific. This exhibition celebrates this thought-provoking junction of events.

The exhibition itself

I love tribal art, native art, primitive art, whatever the correct terminology is. Some of my favourite art anywhere is the Benin Bronzes now in the British Museum (and other European collections), so I should have loved this exhibition. There are well over a hundred carved canoes, masks, statues, spears and paddles, totems, roof beams, and other ‘native’ or ‘tribal’ objects which emanate tremendous artistic power and integrity.

Tene Waitere, Tā Moko panel (1896-99) Te Papa © Image courtesy of The Museum of New Zealand Te Papa Tongarewa

Tene Waitere, Tā Moko panel (1896 to 1899) Te Papa © Image courtesy of The Museum of New Zealand Te Papa Tongarewa

I think one of the problems is that I found it, in fact, too immense. Overwhelmed by wall after wall of extraordinary masks and carvings I found the narrative or explanations behind the objects difficult to follow. It is the challenge of ‘Oceania’ as a subject that it is so huge and so diverse. Every single island had its own peoples, with their own myths, legends, traditions and ways. It wasn’t like reading about the ancient Greeks or Egyptians which are reasonably uniform and stable entities – it was like reading about a thousand types of ancient Greek or Egyptians.

The exhibition attempts to create order from this profusion by allotting objects to themed rooms, thus:

1. Introduction

A huge map of Oceania takes up one wall of the central octagonal room, whose other dominating feature is a vast cascading blue curtain, a work of art invoking the enormous Pacific made by the Mata Aho Collective of four Māori women. And on another wall, a video of Kathy Jetnil-Kijiner from the Marshall Islands reciting one of her poems in a strong American accent.

2. Voyaging and navigation

This room contains some breath-takingly beautiful carved wooden canoes, paddles, prows, fierce wooden headposts, ornate carvings and painted figureheads. In the background, on the left, you can see a display case which contains several of the ‘stick charts’ which native peoples used as navigational aids.

Installation view of canoes at Oceania, the Royal Academy

Installation view of canoes at Oceania at the Royal Academy

Tupai, a native from Tahiti, who I learned about when I read the biography of Captain Cook, was a native who joined Cook’s crew and became extremely useful as an interpreter with tribes on the islands he visited. Tupai made a number of drawings of natives and Europeans and these and a number of other drawings are scattered throughout the show. interesting, but dwarfed by the visual and imaginative impact of the enormous canoes and masks and statues.

3. Expanding horizons

Spears, head dresses, statues, ceremonial clubs and dance shields.

The commentary makes the point that a lot of the artefacts now on display in Western museums were not stolen and looted. Most Oceanic cultures placed importance on gift-giving for cementing alliances, mediating power, exchanging brides and grooms, and so on. Hence a lot of the stuff on show here was given freely by native peoples keen to establish their idea of good relationships with the newcomers by exchanging. And of course, the European ships exchanged or ‘sold’ to the natives all sorts of European goods, from trashy gewgaws, to useful tools and equipment.

4. Place a community

A room about buildings showing how native peoples decorated their buildings with paintings or carvings depicting myths, legends, important ancestors, and how the architecture not only mediated space, but also, in some sense, controlled time. For example as you entered a chamber decorated with carvings of your ancestors, you were literally going back to their time.

This room included one of the highlights, an enormous long, carved, wooden roofbeam from the Solomon Islands which featured some exquisitely carved figures of seagulls, pinned tail up to the side of the wall, as if diving down to catch the wooden fish depicted swimming along beneath them.

Also included were some fairly explicit images of the sexes, a number of men with penis sheathes and the goddess Dikulai carved with her legs wide apart and, apparently, pulling apart her labia.

Carved wooden pole for a ceremonial house, Magura village, Solomon Islands, 17th century

Carved wooden pole for a ceremonial house, Magura village, Solomon Islands, 17th century

5. Gods and ancestors

This is another room full of enormous carved wooden and stone statues, for example of the two-headed figure of Ti’i from Tahiti, or the immense stone Maori figure of Hava Rapi Nui. There’s a wooden depiction of Lono, the Hawaiian god who was to be Captain Cook’s nemesis.

Installation view of canoes at Oceania at the Royal Academy

Installation view of canoes at Oceania at the Royal Academy

6. The spirit of the gift

Examples of the gifts whose exchange was such an important part of the culture of many of the islands: necklaces made of teeth or shells, armshells, half a dozen enormous decorated barkcloths the size of Persian carpets, cloaks made of feathers or flax, and a couple of three-foot-tall, feathered godheads.

7. Performance and memory

Most of these artefacts were not ‘art’ in our sense, objects to be kept hanging on a wall or in sterile conditions in galleries. Most of them were made to be used – to be worn, moved or swung, in an atmosphere of incense and music and celebration, or commemoration or ritual.

Objects like a lifesize costume for a ‘chief mourner’, or the huge display of fans, figures, masks, a dance paddle, a head crest, carved wooden shields, a war club, a ceremonial adze, a crocodile mask. Things that were meant to come alive in the hands of experienced users.

8. Encounter and empire

Here come the horrible Europeans bringing their Christianity, their ‘rule of law’ and their ideas of ‘private property’ which could be bought and sold at a profit, instead of freely exchanged as gifts.

That said, the exhibition emphasises how native peoples used all the new objects and materials which Europeans exchanged with them to produce new hybrid forms of art, incorporating European materials and motifs, precursors, in some ways, to tourist souvenirs.

In the enormous display case which took up one entire wall and housed some 15 stunning carved objects, pride of place went to another long slender carving, this time of a feast trough carved in the shape of a crocodile, from Kalikongu, a village in the West Solomon Islands.

19th-century feast bowl from the Solomon Islands, nearly 7 metres long. Photograph: Trustees of the British Museum

19th-century feast bowl from the Solomon Islands, nearly 7 metres long. Photograph: Trustees of the British Museum

9. In pursuit of Venus (infected)

The exhibition completely changes tone as you round the corner and come across the longest continuous video projection I’ve ever seen. Onto the wall of the longest room in the Royal Academy is projected this 21st century live-action animated art work by Lisa Reihana, a 26-metre wide, 32-minute long installation. To quote from Reihana’s website:

In 1804, Joseph Dufour created Les Sauvages de la Mer Pacifique, a sophisticated 20-panel scenic wallpaper whose exotic subject matter referenced popular illustrations of the times and mirrored a widespread fascination with Captain Cook and de la Perouse Pacific voyages. Two hundred years later Lisa Reihana reanimates this popular wallpaper as a panoramic video spanning a width of 26 metres.

While Dufour’s work models Enlightenment beliefs of harmony amidst mankind, Reihana’s version includes encounters between Polynesians and Europeans which acknowledge the nuances and complexities of cultural identities and colonisation. Stereotypes about other cultures and representation that developed during those times and since are challenged, and the gaze of imperialism is returned with a speculative twist that disrupts notions of beauty, authenticity, history and myth.

If you’re puzzled by the title, it is explained by the fact that Captain Cook’s 1768 voyage to the Pacific was commissioned by the Royal Society to record the transit of Venus, a phenomenon it was hoped would help improve navigation, and which astronomers knew would be better observed from the South Pacific than from Britain.

The subtitle, ‘infected’, rather brutally reminds us of the immense devastation wrought on native populations by the disease-bringing Europeans (whose diseases had earlier ravaged the populations of the Caribbean, north and central America).

Here’s a clip from In pursuit of Venus (infected):

The film presents a panorama of all kinds of social interactions from the colonising period including, inevitably, scenes of brutality and killing.

For me this completely changed the tone of the exhibition. Up till then I had been admiring Oceanic culture from the past: from this point onwards, for the last two rooms, the exhibition transitions to being about contemporary art by contemporary artists from the Oceanic region, a different thing entirely.

A completely different thing because these artists, without exception, being 21st century artists, employ what is now the universal, global language of contemporary art. They may have been born in New Zealand or the Marshall Islands, but they have been educated into the international visual language of contemporary art from New York to Beijing.

Thus a lot of their visual and artistic distinctiveness was lost.

10. Memory

These last two rooms mix a handful of awesome traditional masks or wood carvings with bang up-to-date contemporary works of art.

For example, The Pressure of Sunlight Falling by Fiona Partington (b.1961 New Zealand) consists of five enormous digital photographs of casts made of the heads of Pacific people. The work is based on the fact that, on the Pacific voyage of French explorer Dumont d’Urville, from 1837 to 1840, the eminent phrenologist, Pierre-Marie Dumoutier, took life casts of natives that the expedition encountered. Centuries later, Pardington heard about this, and dug around in the archives to discover some of the original casts. In the words of the catalogue, she:

reinvests their mana by highlighting their neoclassical dignity and beauty through immaculate lighting and composition.

This is all well and good and interesting. And the photos are stunning.

Some photos from The Pressure of Sunlight Falling by Fiona Pardington

Some photos from The Pressure of Sunlight Falling by Fiona Pardington

But for me they come from the world of contemporary art, they could be hanging in the Serpentine or Whitechapel or ABP gallery – all of which are worlds away from the anthropological imagination required to imagine yourself into a Maori canoe or a Solomon Island hut filled with wood carvings of the ancestors.

11. Memory and commemoration

The final room contains a couple of ‘tribal’ works, but the balance has now shifted decisively towards very contemporary Oceanic art.

These include Blood Generation (2009), a collaboration between artist Taloi Havini and photographer Stuart Miller. Between 1988 and 1998 there was a brutal civil war between Papua New Guinea and the people of Bougainville, triggered by external interests in mining. The young people who grew up during this era are known locally as the ‘blood generation’. The art work consists of a series of brooding, mostly black and white, photos of young people from the blood generation and the mine-scarred landscape they grew up in.

Still from Blood Generation by Taloi Havini and Stuart Miller (2009)

Photo from Blood Generation by Taloi Havini and Stuart Miller (2009)

One whole wall of this last room is devoted to an enormous painting on canvas, Kehe tau hauaga foou (To all new arrivals) by John Pule (2007).

Installation view of Kehe tau hauaga foou (To all new arrivals) by John Pule (2009)

Installation view of Kehe tau hauaga foou (To all new arrivals) by John Pule (2009)

And a video, Siva in motion, in which video artist Yuki Kihara is dressed in a black Victorian dress, and then slowly performs dance movements traditionally ascribed to the Hindu god Siva. The work is in memory of the 159 victims of the 2009 tsunami, which is why it is in the room devoted to ‘Memory and commemoration’.

I hope you can see why, by the end of these eleven rooms packed with geography, history, new peoples and languages and gods and customs and traditions, I felt that these final, absolutely contemporary art works, though they may well bring an exhibition of Oceanic art right up to date, also threw me.

They had the regrettable effect of overwriting much of the visual impact of the native objects I’d seen earlier in the exhibition. Photography and video are so powerful that they tend to blot out everything else.

I wish I’d stopped at room eight, among the amazing carved head and feathered masks and strange threatening statues, and kept the strange, powerful, haunting lost world of Oceania with me for the rest of the day.

Video

The RA did a live broadcast from the opening of the exhibition, featuring Tim Marlow, the RA’s artistic director and scholars discussing artefacts, and also including a live performance.


Related links

  • Oceania continues at the Royal Academy until 10 December 2018

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