Folktale: The Origins of Moko, the Maori Face Tattoo from New Zealand

by Christopher Agostino

My wife brought me a book of Maori folktales from the library: Land of the Long White Cloud: Maori Myths, Tales and Legends by Kiri Te Kanawa; © 1989; Arcade Publishing, Inc., New York. She came across it while looking for stories for a show she will be creating at an elementary school. The author introduces each tale briefly, writing about how she might have heard such stories as a child and what she imagined about them. The bio notes also explain that Kiri Te Kanawa is a famous opera singer and made her debut at the Royal opera House, Covent Garden, in 1971.

The tale “Mataora and Niwareka in the Underworld” especially caught my attention, as it offers a folkloric explanation for the origins of moko, the traditional facial tattooing of the Maori. In brief: a warrior chief named Mataora meets some beautiful women who come up from the Underworld. They tell him that the designs he has painted on his face are not true moko because they can be wiped off. He falls in love with Niwareka, winds up following her back down to the Underworld and meets her father, who is busy tattooing a young man’s face with a fine bone chisel. Mataroa sees that the process is excruciatingly painful but the man doesn’t cry out. Ue-tonga, the father, then tattoos Matarao’s face with “the intricate patterns, twirls and swirls” that make a warrior “look both frightening and beautiful.” Mataroa understands he must bear the pain bravely to receive the true moko, and afterwards he brings the tattoo tradition (and Niwareka) back up to the Overworld.

I’m fascinated by the idea in this tale that the Maori first painted their faces with the moko patterns before they used tattoo, Continue reading

Revolutionary Slave Masquerader from Haiti, photograph by Phyllis Galembo — from Maske

by Christopher Agostino

I want to post just one more of the exceptional photographs by Phyllis Galembo from her book Maske, found in the article in National Geographic Magazine, April 2012. See the online article and her website for more.

 

 

“The tools of modern revolutions, a gun and a phone, are held by a masked youth. Other parts of his hellish carnival attire connect to Haiti’s past. To symbolize the suffering of slaves, he’s wrapped in a rope, his skin is glazed in charcoal and molasses—an inexpensive, easy-to-make masquerade worn since colonial times.” – from the text in the article by Cathy Newman. Charcoal and molasses!

These photographs are compelling not only for the quality of the mask and costumes, but also for the way Galembo photographs the masqueraders. There is a sense of presence to the mask and costumes in these photographs different than what you get looking at a photograph of a masquerader in motion, such as dancing or participating in the ceremony the mask is meant for—and certainly the images are much more powerful than the standard textbook shot of the mask just hanging on a wall. Her photographs focus so completely on the new being created by the mask and costume, and that is what I am responding to as I admire them.

She travels to these places and “puts her ear to the ground in search of masquerade ceremonies.” To photograph the outfits she has the masquerader pose themself however they choose, in front of a wall or such as a backdrop, and shoots just 12 photos. “‘Either I have it, or I don’t,’ she says.

see the previous post about her work:

Three Boys from Haiti Become Pa Wowo — the Body Painting Photo of the Year

See my fine art bodypainting at  https://thestorybehindthefaces.com/body-painting/

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Three Boys from Haiti Become Pa Wowo — the Body Painting Photo of the Year

by Christopher Agostino

I know it’s only March, but I think I’m ready to declare this the best body painting photo I am going to see this year. Photographed by Phyllis Galembo, for her book Maske. I saw it in an article in the April 2012 National Geographic Magazine, along with ten others from the more than one hundred photos in her book of masqueraders from Africa and the African Diaspora.

 

 

Not all masquerades require masks, or occur in Africa. In the Haitian port city of Jacmel three boys become Pa Wowo—painted, coconut-leaf-skirted peasants who personify poverty—for the spring carnival.” —from the accompanying text by Cathy Newman.

This is the true art of transformation—body art and masks used to make a social statement within a cultural context—this is true art, in the original social function for why there is art, before art became a means of decoration and personal expression in a Western context. Nothing I’ve ever painted for a competition, demonstration or in the studio holds a candle to the real thing like this.

See my fine art bodypainting at  https://thestorybehindthefaces.com/body-painting/