Foy Brothers, Pare Wātene, c. 1871–1909. Photograph, albumen print. Victoria and Albert Museum, London.
The native people of New Zealand, called the Māori, are known around the world for their tattooing. Although their tattoos do not cover as much of the body as many South Pacific people such as the Samoans, the Māori developed their own unusual style of tattooing, covering the face and the buttocks. First described by Captain James Cook in 1769, Māori tattooing remains one of the most unique and beautiful of all tattoo traditions.
The moko is the curvilinear facia tattoo worn by Māori men and women as a sign of status as well as affiliation, and only high-status Māori and warriors at one time were tattooed. Women's tattoos were originally limited to the lips and sometimes other parts of the body or forehead; in the 19th century, the spiral chin tattoo was developed. Men could wear the moko, or, if they had their bodies tattooed, the tattoo extended over the area between the waist and the knees, primarily covering the buttocks.
The tattoo design was first drawn onto the skin, and then carved into the skin with a tool known as uhi whaka tataramoa, which operated much like wood carving to which it can be related both in design and technique. The tattooist, who was always a man, literally carved the design into the skin. After cutting the skin, pigment was rubbed into the wound.
The procedure was said to be incredibly painful, and caused so much facial swelling that, after tattooing, the person could not eat normally, and had to be fed liquids through a funnel. During the lengthy tattoo, as well, the tattooed person could receive liquid food through the tunnel, thus keeping the contaminating food from the wounds. A woman's moko, which covered the chin and lips, could take one or two days to complete. A man's moko, which covered the whole face, was done in several stages over several years and was an important rite of passage for a Māori man; without the moko, the man was said to not be a complete person.
Gottfried Lindauer, Pare Wātene, 1878. Oil on canvas, 102.8 x 85.5 x 7.0 cm. Auckland Art Gallery, Auckland.
Unlike tattoos in Polynesia and elsewhere, which have designs that are worn by everyone of the same tribe, clan, or tank, Māori tattoos were totally individual. While they did indicate a man's social and kinship position, marital status, and other information, each moko was like a fingerprint, and no two were alike. Māori chiefs even used drawings of their moko as their signature in the 19th century. Because the moko, in part, signified rank, different designs on both men and women could be read as relating to their family status, and each of the Māori social ranks carried different designs. In addition, some women who, due to their genealogical connections, were extremely high status, could wear part of the male moko.
As in Marquesan tattooing, Māori facial designs were divided into four zones (left forehead, right forehead, left lower face, and right lower face) and these further divided, giving an overall symmetry to the design. The right side of the face conveyed information about the father's rank, tribal affiliations, and position. The left side of a face, on the other hand, gave information about the mother's rank, tribal affiliations, and position. Each side of the face is also subdivided into eight sections, which contain information about rank, position in life, tribal identification, lineage, and more personal information, including occupation or skill.
Tattooing styles varied from tribe to tribe and region to region, as well as love time. Cook, for example, noted that the men on one side of an inlet were tattooed all over their faces, whereas the men on the other side of the inlet were only tattooed on the lips. He also noted that some moko did not include the forehead but only extended from the chin to the eyes. Also, Cook's men noted that there was at least one man at that time who had straight vertical lines tattooed on his face, combined with spirals, as well as two elderly men with horizontal lines across their face. Tattoos of this sort were never again seen on subsequent visits. And by the 19th century, different styles of moko were seen, including both the classic curvilinear styles as well as vertical and horizontal parallel lines.
The Māori had a tradition of preserving the tattooed heads of deceased persons of nobility in order, it was presumed, to keep alive the memory of the dead. The heads were also held to be sacred, in that they continued to possess the deceased's mana, or magical quality. But in 1770, just a year after initial contact, Europeans became interested in these tattooed heads, and initiated a heads-for-weapons trade that lasted until 1831, when it was banned by the colonial authorities.
The first dried head to be possessed by a European was acquired on January 20, 1770. It was brought by Joseph Banks, who was with Cook's expedition as a naturalist, and was one of four brought to board the Endeavour for inspection. It was the head of a tattooed youth of 14 or 15, who had been killed by a blow to the head.
The trade became especially scandalous because during the tribal wars of the 1820s, when European demand for the heads was at an all time high, war captives and slaves were probably tattooed, killed, and their decapitated heads sold to European traders. As the traffic in heads escalated, the Māori stopped preserving the heads of their friends, so that they wouldn't fall into the hands of the Europeans. Evidently, it also became dangerous to even wear a moko, as one could be killed at any time and have one's head sold to traders. By the end of the head trade in the 1830s, the moko was dying out, due to missionary activity.
Like Hawaiian and Tahitian tattooing, Māori tattooing was also influenced by European contact. On Cook's first visit to New Zealand, the ship artist, Sydney Parkinson, drew pictures of the moko, exposing Europeans for the first time to Māori and their art, and, inciting the interest in tattooed heads that would follow. Tattoo techniques changed as well as a result of contact. Originally, the Māori applied their wood carving techniques to tattooing, literally carving the skin and rubbing ink into the open wounds. After European contact, sailors brought metal to the Māori, enabling them to adopt the puncture method found in the parts of Polynesia.
After European contact, the moko became associated with Māori culture as a way for the native people of New Zealand to distinguish themselves from the Europeans who had settled there, but by 1840, due to missionary activity, the male moko was falling out of fashion. It was revived briefly during the wars against Europe from 1864 to 1868, but by the turn of the century, there were only a handful of tattooed Māori alive. Ironically, it was during the period in which the male moko was declining that the female chin moko was gaining in popularity as a symbol of identity.
Since the late 20th century, some Māori have begun wearing tā moko again as an assertion of their cultural identity. A few Māori tattoo artists are reviving traditional methods of applying tā moko, but most use electric machines.
Given what you just read about the tā moko, who can and should wear moko? In the video below, Re: News's asked this question to people at the Toi Kiri: World Indigenous Tattoo Culture Festival.
At the turn of the twentieth century, hundreds of people visited a small upstairs gallery on Queen Street in Auckland to view portraits of Māori by the artist Gottfried Lindauer. Lindauer, a migrant from Bohemia (now part of the Czech Republic) who arrived in New Zealand in 1874, began exhibiting portraits of Māori subjects in 1876. The inscriptions left by Māori visitors in the Queen Street gallery's visitors' books attest to their strong interest in the images of their leaders, whānau (family) and tipuna (ancestor). Apart from being the subjects of Lindauer's portraits, Māori commissioned painted portraits of their tipuna, and these portraits were exhibited by hapū (sub-tribe, tribal group), whānau (family) and iwi in marae (open space in front of a tribal meetinghouse) and at tangihanga (funeral ceremony) as part of whānau taonga (family treasured possession), alongside photographs which had become the conventional mode of representation. The portraits are today living ancestors to uri whakaheke (descendants) of the sitters and often the only surviving images of ancestors.
Lindauer was an artist who helped form public relationships with Māori, and Māori engaged with Lindauer as an artist. Gottfried Lindauer, born a citizen of the Austrian empire in 1839, came to be called Rinitana by the Ngāti Hikairo ki Tongariro people of Ngāti Tūwharetoa and his paintings are meaningful to succeeding generations of New Zealanders.
Lindauer came from a modernising Europe. His hometown Pilsen—encircled by Germany to the west and north, Poland to the northeast, Moravia to the east and Austria to the south—was at the centre of the wealth-producing heartland of the Austrian empire. Born into a middle-class Christian background, Lindauer undertook private tuition, becoming an academic painter with a focus on religious commissions and portraits. After being conscripted for a second time to serve in the Austrian Army, Lindauer departed Bohemia via Hamburg on board the Reichstag, with a plan for a short-term stay in New Sealand. He arrived in Wellington on 6 August 1874 and made Aotearoa New Zealand his permanent home.
Download and read an excerpt about New Zealand through the eyes of a Czech artist PDF. The PDF discusses how the artist Gottfried Lindauer perceived his new home country and how he described it to his Czech compatriots.
Gottfried Lindauer, Tāmati Wāka Nene, 1890. Oil on canvas, 101.9 x 84.2 cm. Auckland Art Gallery, Auckland.
We all know portraits can be of ancestors, but can a portrait be an ancestor?
In Te Ao Māori, the Māori world, they can. Paintings like this one—and even photographs—do two important things. They record likenesses and bring ancestral presence into the world of the living. In other words, this portrait is not merely a representation of Tāmati Wāka Nene, it can be an embodiment of him. Portraits and other taonga tuku iho (treasures passed down from the ancestors) are treated with great care and reverence. After a person has died their portrait may be hung on the walls of family homes and in the wharenui (the central building of a community center), to be spoken to, wept over, and cherished by people with genealogical connections to them. Even when portraits like this one, kept in the collection of the Auckland Art Gallery, are absent from their families, the stories woven around them keep them alive and present. Auckland Art Gallery acknowledges these living links through its relationships with descendants of those whose portraits it cares for. The Gallery seeks their advice when asked for permission to reproduce such portraits. This portrait has been published in the Google Arts & Culture project, which is why we can look at it here.
Gottfried Lindauer, Detail of the paua eye in tewhatewha from Tāmati Wāka Nene, 1890. Oil on canvas, 101.9 x 84.2 cm. Auckland Art Gallery, Auckland.
Māori are the Indigenous people of New Zealand/Aotearoa. The subject of this portrait, Tāmati Wāka Nene, was a Rangatira or chief of the Ngāti Hao people in Hokianga, of the Ngāpuhi iwi or tribe, and an important war leader. He was probably born in the 1780s, and died in 1871. He lived through a time of rapid change in New Zealand, when the first British missionaries and settler-colonists were arriving and changing the Māori world forever. An astute leader and businessman, Nene exemplified the types of changes that were occurring when he converted to the faith and was baptised in 1839, choosing to be named Tāmati Wāka after Thomas Walker, who was an English merchant patron of the Church Missionary Society. He was revered throughout his life as a man with great mana or personal efficacy.
In his portrait, Nene wears a kahu kiwi, a fine cloak covered in kiwi feathers, and an earring of greenstone or pounamu. Both of these are prestigious taonga or treasures. He is holding a hand weapon known as a tewhatewha, which has feathers adorning its blade and a finely carved hand grip with an abalone or paua eye. All of these mark him as man of mana or personal efficacy and status. But perhaps the most striking feature for an international audience is his intricate facial tattoo, called moko.
Lindauer was a Czech artist who arrived in New Zealand in 1873 after a decade of painting professionally in Europe. He had studied at the Academy of Fine Art in Vienna from 1855 to 1861, and learned painting techniques rooted in Renaissance naturalism. When he left the Academy he began working as a portrait painter, and established his own portrait studio in 1864. Just ten years later he arrived in New Zealand and quickly became acquainted with a man called Henry Partridge, who became his patron. Partridge commissioned Lindauer to paint portraits of well-known Māori, and three years later, in 1877, Lindauer held an exhibition in Wellington. The exhibition was important because it demonstrated Lindauer’s abilities and he was soon being commissioned by Māori chiefs to paint their portraits. Lindauer took different approaches to his commissions depending on who was paying. He tended to paint well-known Māori in Māori clothing for European purchasers, but painted unknown Māori in everyday European clothing when commissioned by their families to do so. His paintings are realistic, convincingly three-dimensional, and play beautifully with the contrast between light and shadow, causing his subjects to glow against their dark backgrounds. As his patron, Partridge amassed a large collection of portraits as well as large scale depictions that re-enacted Māori ways of life that were thought to be disappearing. In 1915, Partridge gave his collection of 62 portraits to the Auckland Art Gallery—the largest collection of Lindauer paintings in the world.
The Illustrated London News, January 19, 1861, page 67 with engraving from John Crombie's photograph of Tāmati Wāka Nene. University of Waikato Library, Hamilton.
If you’ve been paying attention to dates you will have noticed that Nene died in 1871 but Lindauer didn’t arrive in New Zealand until 1873, and didn’t paint his portrait until 1890. It is likely that Lindauer based this portrait on a photograph taken by John Crombie, who had been commissioned to produce 12 photographic portraits of Māori chiefs for The Illustrated London News. There are several other photographs of Nene, and in 1934 Charles F. Goldie—another famous portrayer of Māori—painted yet another portrait of him from a photograph. So Nene didn’t sit for either of his famous painted portraits, but clearly sat for photographic portraits in the later years of his life. These were becoming more common by 1870, due to developments in photographic methods that made the whole process easier and cheaper. Many Māori had their portraits taken photographically and produced as a carte-de-visite, roughly the size of a playing card, and some had larger, postcard-sized images made, called cabinet portraits. Lindauer is thought to have used a device called an epidiascope to enlarge and project small photographs such as these so he could paint them.
Lindauer didn’t make many sketches. He worked straight onto stretched canvas, outlining his subjects in pencil over a white background before applying translucent paints and glazes. Through the thinly painted surface of some of his works you can still see traces of pencil lines that may be evidence of his practice of outlining projected images. But Lindauer wasn’t simply copying photographs. In the 1870s, color photography had yet to be invented—Lindauer was working from black and white images and reimagining them in color. Moreover, sometimes he dressed his sitters—and those he painted from photos—in borrowed garments and adorned them with taonga that were not necessarily theirs. Thus some of his works contain artistic interventions rather than being entirely documentary.
What is the value of studying Gottfried Lindauer's portraits of the Māori? Consider the following questions and reflect on how art historians can meaningfully engage with portraits of human figures.
Interested in this conversation? Check out Claire Voon's article "Māori Portraits Offer a Window into New Zealand’s Colonial History" on Hyperallergic (February 13, 2017).