Hear from Kaiata Kaitao, Cook Islands Artist and Youth Parliament Member

What does it mean to be a Pacific Artist?

How does one define what it means to be a Pacific artist?

It’s a complicated task. The Cambridge Advanced Learner’s Dictionary defines an artist as, “someone who creates things with great skill and imagination.” Organisations like Creative New Zealand define them as Arts Pasifika Awards winners, rewarding them for their dedication to craft. This July, the Commonwealth Foundation defined it as Selina Tusitala Marsh, naming her their inaugural Commonwealth Poet Laureate.

The answers always come to us in strange ways, at strange times. This week, it came to me in the form of a museum label.

In the far corner of Te Papa Tongarewa’s fifth floor, next to a John Pule piece entitled, “Shark, angel, bird, ladder,” there’s an unusually beautiful museum label. Next to the artwork, it pales in comparison, but power is found in its humble nature.

It reads, “Poet and artist John Pule’s paintings are rich with meaning - much like Pacific stories.”

To be an artist is to shoulder the duty of telling stories. To be a Pacific person is to do the same. There is a natural relationship between arts and culture, and we’ve been seeing it in action for the past 1,000 years and beyond.

As a young Pacific artist, the benefits of engaging with the arts for myself and my peers are exemplary. In Creative New Zealand’s most recent triennial survey, Ko Aotearoa me ōna Toi, nearly 80% of young New Zealanders said that making and doing creative things makes them feel good. Schools rich in arts education have had proven positive impacts on numeracy, literacy, and mental health. Studying the arts encourages divergent thinking in rangatahi, preparing them for career pathways that do not yet exist.

Furthermore, nearly every island culture translates its stories through a medium of art. At this point in history, where our Pacific languages are more in danger of extinction than ever, the performing arts are an essential bridge to their conservation. If festivals such as Te Matatini and the now 50-year old Polyfest have taught us anything, it’s that it isn’t just the performers who are emboldened by their presence.

In building up our artists, our storytellers, we build up our cultures. We carry tradition forth, while developing new methods of weaving beauty. We uphold our values, and encourage others to share in them. The future is here, and it is our duty as a part of the cycle to support and uplift them– for the betterment of all.