The whare whakairo or traditional Māori meeting house plays an important part in Māori society and identity. These whare tell the tale of their origin, and in so doing, the origins of their people. The analysis of the meeting house, the histories expressed in its decorative carvings and structural elements are inextricably linked with and dependent upon the structure of the world created by myth and the Māori worldview. However, due to the deleterious effects of colonisation, the art of wood carving and associated architectural practices - central to Māori identity, suffered decline in many parts of the country, leading to the decline of Māori culture and identity. Sir Apirana Ngata instigated the National Institute of Māori Arts and Crafts to resurrect the dying art of Māori carving and carved houses would be a catalyst for the restoration of Māori culture throughout the country. Ngata saw these whare whakairo as being the heart of Māori communities by establishing a renewed sense of belonging and identification with space for Māori, through the telling of tribal histories and emphasising key geographical features. New threats in the form of global hegemony and urbanisation have further impacted on Māori notions of identity, creating a generation of displaced urban Māori youth. This research proposes to establish an architectural response to capture displaced Māori youth through the resurrection of the Māori carving school and return to them the lost stories of their cultural history and identity. This program will be developed within the complex challenges that exist within post-earthquake Ōtautahi/Christchurch, where many have lost homes and livelihoods, especially Māori youth in the Eastern Suburbs. The building elements of the proposed Māori carving school give reference to the historio-cultural features of the original Ōtautahi/Christchurch landscape that are situated in tribal song and myth. It is envisioned that the development of a Māori carving school will help restore Māori identity and a renewed sense of belonging, and allow for the telling of this generations stories through traditional narratives.
For some people, religion, spirituality and faith (RSF) serves an important function, helping them deal with difficult everyday life challenges. This qualitative ethnographic study examines how and in what ways a group of Cantabrians engaged with RSF in dealing with diverse forms of significant trauma – from moments of crisis through to more extended processes of recovery. The research is located within the context of post-earthquake Christchurch, and is based on fieldwork undertaken in 2012–2013. It explores the experiences of respondents representing traditional Christian and non-orthodox, non-Christian faith paths. The thesis draws on data from participant stories to emphasise the subjective experience of RSF and trauma. It argues that in times of crisis, some people draw on RSF to help them address difficult life challenges. The study demonstrates the breadth, diversity and significance of such resourcing, as well as the sometimes surprising, unanticipated forms that this engagement with RSF may take. Contrary to theories that emphasise the marginalisation of religion during times of intense distress, the thesis shows that in varying moments of crisis, people for whom RSF is important, may draw on diverse forms of RSF as a matter of priority to help them.
Architecture and music have a long intertwining history.These respective creative forces many times have collaborated into monumental place, harboured rich occasion, been catalyst for cultural movement and defined generations. Together they transcend their respective identities. From dinky local church to monstrous national stadia, together they are an intense concentration, a powerfully addictive dosage where architecture is the place, music is the faith, and people are the reason. Music is a programme that architecture often celebrates in poetic and grand fashion; a superficial excuse to symbolise their creative parallels. But their relationship is much richer and holds more value than just the opportunity to attempt architectural metaphor.While music will always overshadow the architecture in the sense of a singular event, architecture is like the soundman behind the mixing desk. It’s not the star front and centre grabbing your attention, but is responsible for framing the star. It is the foundational backdrop, a critical pillar. Great architecture can help make great music. In this sense music is a communication of architecture, it is the ultimate creative function. Christchurch, New Zealand, is a city whose story changed in an instant. The seismic events of 2010 and 2011 have become the overriding subject of its historical narrative, as it will be for years to come. Disaster redefines place (the town of Napier, struck by an earthquake in 1931, exemplifies this). There is no quantifiable justification for an exploration of architecture and music within the context of Christchurch. The Town Hall, one of New Zealand’s most architecturally significant buildings, is under repair. The Christ Church Cathedral will more than likely be rebuilt to some degree of its former self. But these are echoes of the city that Christchurch was.They are saved because they are artefact. Evidence of history.This thesis makes the argument for the new, the better than before, and for the making of opportunity from disaster, by proposing a ‘new’ town hall, conceived from the sound of old.
