Beautiful dragonflies seemed so common
when I was a small child.
Ethereal beings of beauty and magic.
In Japan the dragonfly is a symbol of courage and victory, hope and happiness.
A dragonfly landed on my bedroom curtain at sunrise a few mornings ago.
I precariously stood on my bed to capture the image and
and while I teetered there betwixt and between,
I heard it on the six o'clock news..
had died .
I felt a sense of loss.
Such a life.
who has gifted our small country with deeply spiritual art.
Tonight I doodled in my small journal as I watched a film on Maori TV.
Rainbow waterfalls, perfect thin red circles on shining black.
The Phoenix Rises.
I will never forget standing before those tall fire scarred posts,
partly taken back to unharmed wood that shone like gold,
with the bow of boat in the centre .. proud and rising.
Always the work of Hotere is poetry, metaphor, song and dance in paint
and wood, tin and light.
Another time, long ago, in the Auckland Art Gallery,
I stood with friends before his waterfall.
I was bewitched by it.
The colours in those magic lines fell from top to bottom.
I could hear the waterfall sing.
We stood in silence.
" He calls that a waterfall?"
Your art will live on with us forever, Ralph Hotere.
You make me want to take black paint.. some red... some gold,
and tell the story
of who we are.