An earlier assignment (#4) already asked you to consider the kind of light hitting your subject. This is so very important that the assignment is being repeated, with some additional requirements. Not only is the quality of light important, but its angle as well — where it comes from. When you want to make the very best image possible, look for diffused light coming from a low angle, from the side. This is the same light we create in a studio when we photograph people or objects.
How to do this assignment
Repeat roll #4 by looking for soft, diffused light. This happens under certain conditions, such as when a cloud covers the sun. It needs to be just the right kind of cloud: not too thick, not too thin. The cloud cannot be so dense that it robs the sun’s light of all shadows and leaves everything looking flat. Look for clouds that leave vague shadows. Another condition that produces diffused light happens when light reflects off some large surface, like a light wall. If the wall is in bright sunlight and is reflecting sunlight somewhere, such as onto a person’s face, that can result in a wonderful quality of soft side lighting. Yet another condition happens when sunlight comes through a thin window curtain. As you begin to look, you will notice more and more sources of diffused sunlight.
BUT WAIT! The light also needs to be striking your subject from the side. That means you will need to shoot this assignment in the early morning or late afternoon.
What to shoot
Take a roll of portraits and / or other nearby objects. They must be lit by soft, diffused light striking from the side (as opposed to overhead light, like sunlight at noon). Side light happens early in the morning and late in the day, when the sun is low on the horizon and when light is hitting your subject from a low angle. For some images, this creates ideal lighting condition.
If you decide to shoot portraits, do not forget what you have learned in all of the previous assignments. Shoot vertical. Get in close. Include a foreground “frame,” and perhaps something in the background. Use focus to help emphasize your subject, with some parts of the image deliberately blurred. Remember the rule of thirds.
What to turn in
Turn in at least one contact sheet with at least 20 printable frames. Include two 8X10 prints and an analysis of the best one of those prints. Always put the analysis first — so that I know what I am looking at.
What your assignment should look like
Aim for a contact sheet that contains
At least 20 visible images
At least 7 different subjects. Include portraits if you wish.
Aim for two 8X10 prints that
Are blurred in the areas you wish to be out of focus
Are completely sharp in the areas you wish to emphasize
Place your center of interest off-center — towards one of the four corners (but not in the corner)
Contain some small areas that are completely, totally BLACK
Contain highlights that are CLOSE to white but not actually, totally white.
Like literature and music, visual images communicate through repetition. If a song repeats a certain musical phrase or a beat, a visual image repeats key shapes. Repetition is a major component of the visual language used by artists to communicate with their audience. Composing an image to create this repetition is a skill that needs practice.
How to do this assignment
This is the opposite of roll #7. Look for a series of shots that have absolutely no center of interest. This is hard, because when there is no center of interest, the shot can become — that’s right — boring. In order to avoid this embarrassing situation, you need to look for images that show repetition — but not too much repetition. Look for images that walk the fine line between repetition and variety. A good image has both. Avoid turning in work that is the equivalent to a childrensʻ song like “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star.”
What to shoot
The subject matter for this assignment is wide open. Think of
the patterns formed by railings and their shadows late in the day on the stairway down to ʻAkahi
the patterns formed by a crowd of feet and ankles walking down Konia hallway
repeated shapes of leaves on the ground, or of the shadows of leaves (or people) created by the sun late in the day.
What to turn in
an analysis (fill out both sides!)
two 5X7 prints from the two best negatives
a contact sheet with the two images circled.
What your assignment should look like
Pay attention to the quality of your two prints. Aim for prints
that are sharp
that contain a wide range of tones, from solid black to small areas pure white
but that do not contain large areas (sky, white shirts, etc.) that are pure white
When people make photos, they have a natural urge place the most important object right in the center. If it is a portrait, the most important point is the eye or eyes. If it is a more distant shot of, say, a surfer, then of course the person is the most important point. We call this point the “center of interest.” However, it is usually a bad idea to put the center of interest in the center of the photo. Instead, we place it near (but not in) one of the four corners.
When we make a landscape shot, the tendency is also to split the frame with the horizon running right through the center of the image. It is usually a better idea to place the horizon at the 2/3 line above the center, or at the 1/3 line below the center.
How to do this assignment
Try out the rule of thirds. (Actually itʻs not a rule, but just a guideline, a suggestion that photographers ignore under some circumstances.) Decide what is the most important point in your image (the center of interest), and place that point near the upper or lower right corner, or near the upper or lower left corner. In other words, DO NOT place it in the center OR on the horizontal or vertical lines that cross the center of the frame.
What to shoot
Go to one or two places and make images that capture their “feeling.” We talk about this kind of image as capturing a “sense of place,” something of what people experience when they are there. This sense of place could be a positive emotion, like our feelings about a certain stretch of beach, but it could also be a negative emotion. Think of going into an abandoned house covered with graffiti, or a place where people throw out household goods on the sidewalk before they get picked up by bulk pickup trucks.
What to place in your folder
an analysis of one of your images, the best one.
two 8X10 prints of your two best images.
a contact sheet with the two prints circled
What your assignment should look like
Aim for a contact sheet that contains
At least 20 visible images
At least 7 different subjects – no portraits
images evenly exposed (with the same levels of dark and light tones)
Apply what you have learned so far. This means
Shots that are sometimes vertical
Shots that contain only deliberate silhouettes
Shots taken in ideal “cloudy bright” conditions
Aim for prints that
contain no large white areas. We need to see faint details in the upper tones
contain some areas that are absolute, completely black – to anchor your tones to the lowest part of the tone range.
make use of the entire rectangle, with a clear center of interest in one of the four possible areas.
People who were well off used to pay artists to paint their portraits. However, within a few decades after the 1826 invention of the photographic process, many less affluent people could suddenly afford to have portraits made. Photographers even began to put painters out of work. We all still take portraits, but like oil painting, creating a powerful portrait is an art, a skill that must be mastered.
How to do this assignment
Standing fairly close to your subjects, take a roll of upper-body portraits that include the face and hands. You might need to give instructions to your subjects, to ask them to face in a certain direction, or to hold their hands in a certain way. As always, apply what you have learned in previous assignments.
Use the vertical format for portraits
Wait for the ideal cloudy-bright lighting situation. Remember that you still need soft highlights and soft shadows.
Take about three shots of each person, and aim for about seven different people or at least seven different poses. In other words, do not just take the same shot 25 times.
In some shots have your subjects looking at you, and in some others, looking elsewhere. Think of shooting in profile rather than head-on.
Vary your shooting angle. In some shots, squat down and shoot up, and in others, shoot from a higher position.
Make sure that light is striking the front of the face, not the back of the head.
What to shoot
You have already had many opportunities to photograph your friends. For this assignment, photograph somebody over 60. Ideally, photograph several people over 60.
Photograph single individuals, unless there is an obvious reason to put two people together in the same shot. (mother/daughter, husband/wife, etc.)
What should be in your folder
As always, put the most recent roll on the top. In your folder:
An analysis sheet of your one best image. The analysis sheet should always be the first page of the folder, so that I know what assignment I am looking at.
A contact sheet with at least 20 visible images related to the assignment, and with the two best images circled. Use a non-black sharpie.
Two 5X7 prints* of your two best images. Mount the prints with tape loops on plain white paper so that the tape does not show. Punch holes in the paper, not the prints.
*NOTE: Beginning with the second quarter of each semester, turn in two prints that are a full sheet, 8X10 inches. Depending on where the semester breaks, you might be asked to turn in full-sized prints on this assignment. Iʻll announce it but if you are unsure, be sure to ask.
What your assignment should look like
Aim for a contact sheet that contains
At least 20 visible images, with the best two images circled
At least 7 different subjects, all portraits of older folks
Try to create images that
Look as sharp as possible, with no camera shake. Be sure to shoot at 1/125th sec. and above.
Do not always show someone grinning with a generic “camera face” smile.
Have simple backgrounds that do not compete with the main subject
With subjects sharp and the backgrounds out of focus. (hint: Take this roll with as wide-open an aperture as you can. We’ll go over in class why this is a good idea.)
Show a sense of timing, show that you have thought about your subject. There needs to be that special twinkle in the eye that draws the viewer into your image. You need to take the image at just the right split second to capture that twinkle.
A photograph reproduces a three-dimensional world on a two-dimensional piece of paper. It does this by creating the illusion of depth, that some objects are closer than others. Photographers work to create a sense of depth in each image, to help draw the viewer in to the imaginary world inside that image, and to direct the viewer towards the most important parts of that image.
How to do this assignment
Do roll #2 over again, but this time, make two exposures for each image. Remember that roll #2 asked you to help create a sense of depth in your photo by including something close and something far away in each shot? This time do the same thing, but for each subject, take one shot focused on the close object and then take a second one focused on the far object. If you are shooting the city through a railing, first focus on the railing and then on the far-off buildings.
What to shoot
Your last assignment, roll #4, asked you to photograph industrial subjects. For contrast, photograph natural ones this time: leaves, branches, mountains and clouds.
What your folder should contain
Always put the most recent assignment on top of the previous assignments.
An analysis sheet of your one best image. The analysis sheet should always be the first page of the folder, so that I know what assignment I am looking at.
A contact sheet with at least 20 visible images related to the assignment, and with the two best images circled. Use a non-black sharpie.
Two 5X7 prints of your two best images. Mount the prints with tape loops on plain white paper so that the tape does not show. Punch holes in the paper, not the prints.
What your assignment should look like
Aim for a contact sheet that contains
At least 20 visible images
At least 7 different subjects
For this assignment I will be looking for PAIRS of images, with the only difference between each pair the point of sharp focus.
This assignment will help you notice lighting conditions that will result in attractive images. Photographers usually avoid shots under mid-day direct sunlight because this results in deep black shadows with no shadow details, totally white highlights with no details, and fewer middle gray tones. Those images usually come out looking harsh and unattractive.
How to do this assignment
Take a roll of film under cloudy conditions. But wait — it is possible for natural light to be too gray and flat. That’s not good either. Don’t just look for any old cloudy conditions, but look for what is called “bright cloudy” conditions. That means that when you hold out your arm, it throws a faint, diffused shadow on the ground. If it is sunny, wait for a cloud to come to cover the sun, and then try to determine the best moment for a photo.
What to shoot
Get industrial with this assignment and search for an object or group of objects that (as always) form interesting visual patterns. Think of trash bins, propane tanks, piles of lumber, pipes on a wall. Whatever, you pick, it needs to be outside, not in the shade of a building.
What your folder should contain
From now on, turn in the same things you turned in for Roll #3. As always, put the most recent assignment on top. Include
An analysis sheet of your one best image. The analysis sheet should always be the first page of the folder, so that I know what assignment I am looking at.
A contact sheet with at least 20 visible images related to the assignment, and with the two best images circled. Use a non-black sharpie.
Two 5X7 prints of your two best images. Mount the prints with tape loops on plain white paper so that the tape does not show. Punch holes in the paper, not the prints.
What your assignment should look like
Shoot about seven different subjects and vary the shooting angle (vertical, horizontal, high, low, etc.). The requirement for this assignment is that the objects need to be ones that show the “cloudy bright” lighting conditions with soft shadow areas and beautiful highlights.
This is the point in the semester when you should start to become aware of how your cameraʻs light meter measures light, and what it is telling you when it suggests a certain combination of shutter speed and aperture. In this case, you are looking for a specific lighting situation that will cause your light meter to suggest a setting that will result in a silhouette. The point of this assignment is to learn to recognize such lighting situations, so that you know ahead of time what kind of negatives and prints will result from it. Sometimes you want to create a silhouette and sometimes not; this assignment should give you the ability to control the look of your final prints.
How to do this assignment
Point your camera at the sky, or at something just as bright, such as the side of a white building. Position yourself so that between you and the sky are some objects that form an interesting pattern.
What to shoot
Branches, the railings along a stairway, a wire fence – any object that allows your camera to see through to the sky and that creates an interesting pattern.
For this assignment, avoid photographing people. Shoot through interesting objects, either man-made or natural.
CAUTION: never allow sunlight to directly hit the front of your lens when you take a photo. It’s bad for your light meter and it ruins your shots. Shoot with the sun behind you or off to one side.
What to turn in
Turn in your folder with the most recent project on top. For this week, turn in the following, in this order:
An analysis sheet of your one best image. The analysis sheet should always be the first page of the folder, so that I know what assignment I am looking at.
A contact sheet with at least 20 visible images related to the assignment, and with the two best images circled. Use a non-black sharpie.
Two 5X7 prints of your two best images. Mount the prints with tape loops on plain white paper so that the tape does not show. Punch holes in the paper, not the prints.
What your assignment should look like
If there is a lot of bright sky in your image, the light meter will measure that and will give you a reading that will produce a beautiful image of the sky, showing all the details of the clouds. If some (relatively) darker objects are in front of the sky — like a railing or some branches — they will come out completely black, like they have been cut out of black paper. They will be silhouettes! This assignment is asking you to create an interesting (black) pattern against something very light (probably the sky).
CHALLENGE: See if you can create such an interesting pattern that people at first cannot tell what you have photographed. A good work of art often contains ambiguity, or sometimes a puzzle for the viewer to solve.
By the way, we call dark areas in a print the shadows and we call the bright areas the highlights.
The modern landscape is full of boundaries. Individual parcels of land are defined by ownership, signified by lines on maps and physically built up by walls, fences, and signage on the ground. Archaeological sites have inherited this boundary system in recent centuries, with borders inevitably drawn around or through important places of the past, effectively declaring where they begin and where they end. A cultural landscape, however, rarely begins and ends so abruptly. Instead, it flows outward from centers of knowledge and practice across the land, affecting individuals and communities almost as invisibly (yet persistently) as the wind.
The body of photographic work exhibited here has been shaped by these ideas of land, culture and boundaries. Sparked by archaeological fieldwork that has identified, documented and studied earthen and stone features related to ancient agricultural production, these photographic recordings of structures across North Kohala have inevitably led to the exhibition of something more ephemeral – and ultimately perhaps less knowable – than straightforward identification and documentation. With both archaeological research and photography encompassing sites built for agricultural, habitation and ceremonial purposes (as well those with mixed and changing functions), these photographs collectively present an invitation not only to view individual architectural features but also glimpse the cumulative cultural significance of their presence on the landscape, even centuries after their initial construction and use.
These images suggest the subtle, complex interaction between culture and land. However, a cultural landscape is made up of far more than carefully placed stone structures. Moʻolelo (stories, histories), language, place names, cultural practices, indigenous plants — all define a cultural landscape. This deeper layer of significance should be for residents of Kohala to communicate. The land under these structures has shifted in ways both subtle and dramatic, as has the culture that gave rise to them. The archaeological sites of North Kohala, nonetheless, endure to remind us of what yet stands upon and colors the region. Of course, such remnants persist not simply as reminders of the past but also as foundations for contemporary culture. While a continuing cultural presence varies across the places pictured in this work, from the extensive rites of Hoʻokuʻikahi held at Puʻukoholā heiau each year to the lonely presence of a simple mauka shelter, they all hold a cumulative power both now and for the future. They carry cultural significance for Hawaiians, and also possess an aesthetic beauty that is capable of transcending cultural boundaries.
The greatest challenge facing Kohala’s remarkable landscape may be the inherent nature of modern boundaries to divide places, often along lines unknown in the past. While the land development that already encroaches upon many of these sites is near certain to continue, not only the individual structures are at risk. There are more than stones to be protected. The integrity of each place is in constant flux and thus depends nearly as heavily on what happens nearby as on the material preservation of the structure itself.
Long known for the sheer variety and uniqueness of its winds, North Kohala and its deep history is a cultural treasure to all residents of Hawaiʻi, Hawaiians and non-Hawaiians alike. In light of this broader perspective we hope that the numerous cultural landscapes of North Kohala – indivisible from the archaeological sites presented here – can endure. Ultimately all of us who call Hawaiʻi home are obligated to ensure that they do.
Jan Becket and Jesse Stephen fall, 2013
Mahalo Dr. Michael Graves, for help with the text and for encouragement throughout this project The UH North Kohala Summer Field School, for help with access Jeff Alexander, for 4-wheel drive help in getting to some sites
Ritual Sites in Windward Kohala
If ritual sites are relatively well preserved in the mauka areas of Kohala and relatively well known from the leeward coasts, the windward sites are neither well known or preserved. Yet, when surveyed in the early 20th century, there were 9 named named heiau along the windward coast, although even then several had been apparently destroyed, usually by road building or sugar cane cultivation.
When surveyed in the early 20th century, all of the named heiau in windward Kohala were located along or relatively close to the coast, generally on cliff lines or edges, but often along side or at the coastal front of streams. Based on earlier accounts coastal heiau were regularly spaced, often located at or near community boundaries, with view planes of the coastline and ocean, or of surrounding agricultural areas.
Among the best and still preserved heiau are three found on cliff lines between Hālawa and Niuli‘i Gulches. Just east of Hālawa, on the cliff overlooking the ocean and gulch is the site known as Hale o Kā‘ili, associated with Kamehameha I and said to have been where he kept the image of Kūkailimoku, the war god with which he had been entrusted upon the death of his uncle. Kapālama near Kapania Bay is one of the largest heiau, based on area, nearly 110,000 square feet although over much of its area it consists of a paving of water worn rock on the surface. Finally, Kupalaha‘a heiau is located on the cliff above Kēōkea Bay near the boundary of Makapala and Niulii. This site sits on the cliff edge and now has a large opening to the ocean below in its center courtyard. It was built of multiple terraces, with walls around the perimeters and considerable paving with water worn cobbles. It has walls and alignments that extend down slope to a large lo‘i complex that fronts Kēōkea Bay.
Windward Kohala heiau are noted for the great variety of forms they encompass, including walled enclosures, forms with multiple, steep retaining walls, platforms or rock pavings on surfaces, and at least two that were excavated below grade or out of surrounding basalt bedrock. Many of these heiau, like Kupalaha‘a, were associated with l‘oi complexes or streams highlighting again the close relationship between farming, in this of the irrigated variety, and ritual in Kohala.
Monumental structures and coastal complexes The leeward makai (coastal) sites
The leeward makai sites extend from the southwestern corner of North Kohala up to the tip of the peninsula, encompassing the northernmost extent of Hawai‘i Island. Many of these sites look across the Alenuihaha Channel to the shoreline of Maui beyond. This passageway has long been a crossroads connecting the Big Island to the rest of the archipelago and the broader region of Oceania. Although these photographs principally juxtapose architectural remnants with species of trees and grasses that have been recently introduced, the sheltered bays and rocky shores upon which they lie nevertheless retain a timeless quality.
Two important places bookend this particular stretch of coastline. Known to be luakini heiau, Pu‘ukoholā and Mo‘okini are each examples of a class of ceremonial structure that were built by Hawaiians from the 14th century until the end of the 18th century. Pu‘ukoholā was completed in 1791 by Kamehameha I after the arrival of the first Europeans but before the abolishment of the kapu system in 1819. Ethnohistoric sources recount its construction as part of Kamehameha’s quest to subjugate his rivals. Capping the top of a small hill (as referenced by its name, which translates literally as “hill of the whale”), its high backing wall and elevated terrace dominate the bay of Kawaihae. Less is known about Mo‘okini, which may have been built many centuries before Pu‘ukoholā. Like Pu‘ukoholā, this heiau would have been central to the ruling powers of Kohala of its time. Constructed on relatively level ground, Mo‘okini features high walls around its perimeter, with limited access into its interior space. Alongside oral and written histories as well as contemporary practices of Hawaiian culture relating these sites to the ancient high chiefs, the large format prints of this exhibition study how architecture and landscape can be combined to form a powerful presence.
While certain sites are highly visible today due to their size, location, or known historical significance, the leeward coastline is populated by an abundance of less obvious archaeological ruins. It was in this area that a focus on settlement patterns was pioneered in Hawai‘i as an archaeological approach. Archaeologists realized that examining entire regions, rather than individual sites, can be more effective for addressing certain types of questions. This strategy was successful at better understanding the distribution and development of the archaeological record within the ancient Hawaiian territorial divisions that partition the coast. The structures featured in this portion of the exhibition are thus often components within architectural complexes. They are frequently situated near a variety of other buildings that each served a distinct purpose and were firmly set within an ahupua‘a.
Although architecture linked to ceremonial activities is the primary subject pictured here, each site invariably manifests unique aspects that do not necessarily fit with the entire group. For example, unlike every other structure featured, the site of Kukuipahu contains a great number of hewn (quarried and dressed) basalt slabs which are thoroughly incorporated into its foundation and walls. Perhaps what we are seeing is a preference for something particular, perhaps not. Regardless, it is the case that for as long as these structures stand along Kohala’s leeward coast – as many of them have for centuries – the opportunity for learning and living with them remains.
Farming and Ritual in Mauka Kohala The mauka (upland) sites
The sites pictured here vary in many respects but they share a common theme: the ancient organization of dry land farming in Kohala. From broad views over a long abandoned agricultural field system to renderings of modest small stone structures, these images offer a sense of what can still be seen of a long and productive past in the upper reaches of leeward Kohala. .As a peninsula with a number of bays and relatively undeveloped coastline, it is possible to overlook the lands that comprise the district’s interior. Indeed, an early 20th century account of ancient Hawaiian ritual sites (or heiau) describes only those on or near both the windward and leeward coasts. It mentions nothing of the uplands. However, the upper slopes of Kohala were developed over several centuries on this, the Big Island’s oldest mountain, to become finest example of an integral component of ancient Hawaiian society: dryland farming.
All of the architectural remnants featured in this portion of the exhibition once played a role in dryland farming, or the cultivation of crops in the absence of irrigation. Completely reliant on rainfall, this was nevertheless an intensive form of agriculture, and one that provided Hawaiian chiefdoms with quantities of uʻala (sweet potato; Ipomoea batatas) and dryland kalo (taro; Colocasia esculenta) as well as other cultigens (e.g., sugarcane, ti, gourds, yams). Estimates of the area developed for this purpose exceed twenty-three square miles, or more than 11,000 football fields! Two hallmarks of the Kohala Dryland Field System are linear agricultural alignments (generally appearing as long field borders on the land) oriented perpendicular to the slope and the prevailing trade winds, and a series of trails and alignments that segment the field borders into various sized plots of land. Situated alongside and sometimes integrated into these features, are other types of structures – ranging from simple C-shaped terraces used for housing, drylaid masonry exclosures to keep out livestock, and to monumental platforms, terraces. These myriad features of upland Kohala had many different functional purposes—for farming, for herding, for living and for rituals and ceremonies, and it is not surprising that these stone foundations also take on a wide variety of forms.
It is the architectural features consistent with ceremonial or ritual use that are perhaps the most intriguing, and which are primarily pictured here. They are abundant in the area, with more than 30 identified as shrines or heiau. With the celebration of the Makahiki season and the gathering of offerings, including various cultivated foods, on an annual basis, such sites would have been integral parts of the social as well as the physical landscape. In the context of the Kohala Field System, such structures appear to have been built in styles and scales beyond those of other architecture, displaying unique construction attributes such as courtyards, notched (or inverted) corners and the incorporation of upright stones into walls. They were often placed in prominent places on or near community boundaries with vistas that included cinder cones (pu’u), the ocean (kai), land and seascapes, fields as well as other ritual sites Many of these characteristics may be observed in these photographs, as if to remind us that what may appear today as quiet and solitary places have not necessarily always have been so in the past.
Note:
The exhibit consists of 50 black-and-white images by Jan Becket and 11 color images by Jesse Stephen. Most images are 16X20, but several are diptych 32X40 inches, and several others are linear panoramas. The exhibit includes eight maps of individual sites.
The black-and-white images are printed with Eboni 6 carbon pigment ink on Epson Cold Press Natural paper with profiles made by Jan Becket.
THE STATEMENT BELOW ACCOMPANIED THE EXHIBIT OF MĀKUA PHOTOGRAPHS IN SEPTEMBER AND OCTOBER OF 2007 AT KAPOLEI HALE AND HONOLULU HALE
Mākua is actually three valleys. The largest and deepest is Mākua, but to its east lies Ko‘iahi, and to its west, Kahanahāiki. Together they open up to form the broad plain at the shore. Driving past on the way to Keawa‘ula, past the chain link fence and military observation tower, past acres of grassland enclosed by steep cliffs and ridges, we admire its beauty. Like everywhere else in Hawai‘i, though, the surface both reveals and conceals multiple realities.
In ancient times, Mākua used to be a large fishing and farming community; we are just beginning to realize how large. Beneath the grass even now are remnants of a vast dry land field system, interrupted by small family or craft ahu (shrines), heiau (temples) and other structures. At the beach was a fishing heiau. Cattle ranching earlier this century trampled the agricultural terraces and grazed away much of the remaining native forest on the valley floor, opening the valley to colonization by the same foreign grasses that in the rainy season now look so green from the road. Goats probably destroyed much of the famed maile lauli‘i (small-leafed maile vine) of Ko‘iahi. The Kanaka Maoli (Hawaiian) community remained, though, working on the McCandless Ranch, fishing, farming, gathering on Sundays at the church near the ocean, bringing ho‘okupu (offerings) to the heiau at the beach and to at least one inland heiau and also bringing piko (afterbirth, umbilical cord) to a small ahu in the middle of the valley.
The Army took over the valley in 1942, evicting those who lived there and using their church for target practice. Live fire training is more controlled now, but in those early years, pilots dropped hundreds, perhaps thousands of 500 lb. bombs at will, keeping no records of locations or unexploded duds. Artillery rounds and mortars fired throughout the entire valley now work their way to the surface after heavy rains. Cluster bombs were exploded above ground, scattering hundreds of shiny little bomblets that can explode decades later if slightly moved. To make the valley safe for training, the Army conducts “controlled burns” of the vegetation on the floor, so that it is possible to see unexploded ordnance before stepping on it. The burns, however, regularly escape control, killing off precious remnants of indigenous vegetation on the valley walls, just as one did in 2003. Marion Kelly tells of hiking to an area decades ago after such a burn and seeing hundreds of endangered Hawaiian tree snail shells on the ground below a blackened native forest. Once gone, the native forest, its snails and its birds never return.
Fortunately, kūpuna (elders) whose genealogy connects them with the valley have passed on cultural knowledge to their descendants, even after the diaspora. Because of them, we know that Mākua is the parent, a place where Papahānaumoku and Wakea, the sky father and the earth mother, mate to give birth to the Hawaiian people. Kamapua‘a still meets people there at night, according to local hunters, in the form of a huge pig that leaves no hoof prints. Hi‘iaka passed by there on her way back to Hawai‘i island, bringing back to life a young girl who had just died and destroying the evil creature that had killed her. Nearby, she opened a new water source for the local people. The rich tapestry of land and sky and ocean is reflected in the mo‘olelo (stories) of those whose ‘ohana (family) lived there for so many generations and who now assert their kinship with Mākua. As for the rest of us, those same mo’olelo serve as markers on the journey towards our own kinship with this place, towards a less exploitative relationship with Mākua, with Hawai’i and with the rest of the Earth. Given the impending environmental crisis, it is a journey we must all sooner or later make.
Now, we pass by on the highway, seeing what is and what was: a double vision of past and present. It is the same wherever we look below the surface in Hawai‘i, but at Mākua, the contrast is sharper, the present reality more full of pain and of hope.
This essay, along with an image of Mākua Valley, appeared in the 2003 book Wao Akua, published by the Division of Forestry and Wildlife, Department of Land and Natural Resources, State of Hawaiʻi.
Loina, or traditional practice, helps you connect with the land in a very intimate way, as the ancient natives did. The winds, the trees, everything becomes living, personified.
— Sam Gon, Director of Science, The Nature Conservancy, Hawaii, in “Nature Conservancy,” Spring 2003, p. 26
Environmentalist and author Barry Lopez agrees with Sam Gon in his celebrated environmental manifesto, The Rediscovery of North America (Vintage Books: New York, 1990), which proposes a new ethic for human tenure on the land: “ It is by looking upon the land not as its possessor but as a companion. To achieve this, one must I think cultivate intimacy, as one would with a human being.”(32)
I teach a high school senior elective called Land and Literature. We begin the semester reading Lopez, who describes the 1492 European “incursion” into North America as a series of greedy raids that set the tone for what followed, a “profound abuse of place,” that continues today. Ultimately, though, his is a message of hope; the ethic that he advances redefines our relationship with the land as communion with a place that we accept, finally, as home, with all of the obligations that implies.
The true wealth that America offered, wealth that could turn exploitation into residency, greed into harmony, was to come from one thing — the cultivation and achievement of local knowledge. (23)
The course Land and Literature asks students to further that acquisition of “local knowledge,” of the places they live in and care about. We begin first with direct observation and description of places not far from the classroom, during the 40-minute period. Despite distractions, most connect:
I walk up a steep hill on stairs made of rocks, and I am continuing to be bitten by the abundance of pesky bugs and scraped by the sharp thorns of those ridiculous thorn trees. Mosquitoes constantly swarm around and suck out my life, little by little as I try to complete this assignment. It is a very arduous task to carry out as I am constantly being distracted by these annoying things. But through the thickest of the bugs and trees I see a large rock in the middle of all these things; I stare at it in awe. (Tupu Laufou, 3/14)
Wherever they go to describe their surroundings, students are encouraged to focus on the details, the small stuff. Just going to a place and describing what is there proves surprisingly demanding because it requires one’s full attention:
I noticed a couple of dried-up cactus plants turning a brownish ugly color and I mistook it for a tree trunk; that’s how deformed it was. I also noticed on the ledge above the cave, in the rocks, two baby cacti and a couple of tall grasses or, really, weeds. (Ka‘onohi Segovia, 3/6/03)
The places we go sometimes have cultural significance. Those who know volunteer to make an entrance chant, Kunihi i ka mauna, and then the class respectfully enters, looks around carefully and then goes a little distance away to describe and sketch. Again, the small details bring the place to life again on the page:
I saw three different levels of platforms up on the hill. On the top left corner there is a formation of medium sized stones. Below it there is a stone standing upright known as the Kü stone and below that is a flatter big stone known as Hina, the male and female stones. To the right of those are the other two platforms. The higher one consists of smaller stones while the lower one is made up of larger stones for the foundation. This separation shows it was carefully planned and built. (Jason Laeha, 2/7/03)
We continue to visit nearby places throughout the semester, especially on hot days, with just the right amount of breeze to push away mosquitoes. Students by then have favorite places and ask to go to those for the period. In addition, though, they keep a land journal, a kind of record of their interaction with a place they have chosen. Lopez calls this a querencia, a place from which one draws strength. In local terms, though, it is their ahupua‘a, and their strength is mana. Some choose the uplands, the waonahele and kuahiwi:
A calm breeze blows through the trees making the branches rustle like the crashing of waves on the sand. The air is light on the tongue. … The ground is covered with pine needles dried from years of untouched growth. The silence is peaceful. Moss covers the ground, creating a carpet-like texture, roots travel in and out of the ground, intertwining with earth, creating a sense of untouched beauty. Much of the pathway consists of narrow walkways atop towering steep cliffs. The summit is a large open area encircled by trees. The opening gives a sense of jubilance; one will often dwell in the moment before wanting to leave the euphoric experience. (Adam Mendez-Ancheta, 2/24/03)
Some choose ke kai, the seashore:
The setting sun casts a flattering shadow against Pu‘u o Hulu Kai, magnifying itself over Ma‘ili Point. Pink, purple, and orange colors spray themselves across the evening sky: a sunset. It’s evident that Ulehawa is calming down. That gracious sun, which provides life for all, loses strength and settles into the ocean.
The ocean moves slower than before with fewer waves crashing against the shoreline. All life knows evening is upon us. The shy moon illuminates itself against the dark Nānākuli sky, causing the rocks to cast miniscule shadows against the sand along Ulehawa’s shoreline. Fewer people comb the beach; some look for an area to call their own, others gather fish to feed their families. The sand crabs race along the water, ducking into their holes at the approach of anyone. Luckily a slight wind gathers strength, bringing the sand up in a whirlwind, carrying itself out into the sea, with all the little crabs fleeing as well. (Jamie Kutara, 2/20/03)
We also do an exercise called “modeling” in which students put their own words and meanings into a form created by someone else, just another way to bring them into contact with others who have the same feelings for the landscape. Some of their models are sensitive reactions to a place, with awareness in time as well as space.
Ko‘olau
— by Haunani-Kay Trask
light in the crevice
never seen mosses
palai kåla‘au
bamboo
crescent moon
stones
fragrant clack clack
from the shadows
hunehune rain
aloft on the wind
steamy rocks
falls of crustaceans
blue caves far
away choked
with grasses wet
fully winged
high ‘iwa floating
many chambered
heavens still
and singing
Kapālama
— by Shelly Smith
night in the room
never been noises
pigs cats
whispers
full moon
shadows
trees sway lightly
from the breeze
cold rain
drips on the roof
ancient stones
days of old
small platforms far
away crowded
with grasses weeds
fully grown
small kōlea pecking
for worms
Alaska bound
and flying
Clearly, some students come to the course with “local knowledge” of their own ahupua‘a. For those, the course merely confirms something they already possess. Similarly, the literature we read together confirms something already embedded in the ka‘ao and mo‘olelo of this place, Hawai‘i. We read the portion of the journey of Hi‘iakaikapoliopele and Wahineoma‘o around the windward coast of O‘ahu, on the way to pick up Lohi‘au on Kaua‘i. The story of their journey is not merely a tale of passion, intrigue and conquest but a relating of the acquisition of mana through intimacy with places in the landscape. The lover adored by Hi‘iaka on her travels through Kailua, Kanahau, is not just a handsome ali‘i but an upright stone at the heiau bearing his name. A large stone still at that heiau appears to be the same one identified in the 1930s as Kanahau. Pōhaku o Kaua‘i is not just a stone at Ka‘ena Point, but the grandfather of Pele, a stone to be addressed with the respect due a kupuna.
If Hi‘iakaikapoliopele is a like a “chick flick,” with the two women throughout their journey attracting and sometimes destroying men, who cannot help but fall under their erotic power, then Kamapua‘a is the opposite, a tale for guys. As a counterpoint to the former, we read, sometimes out loud, the story of the battle between Kamapua‘a and Pele, just a small portion of the epic. The fire goddess almost defeats him, burning his bristles, but the clever little pig narrowly escapes by assuming his fish form, the humuhumunukunukuapua‘a. Renewed, he returns, seduces a willing Pele and quickly triumphs by pinning her down in an embarrassing position for days on end, repeatedly impregnating her. Like all Hawaiian tales, the story contains multiple levels of meaning, one of which is the observation of the contest between vegetation and lava; first one wins and then the other. Neither will completely triumph. Thus, Hawaiian literature is not just “literature” in the Western sense, but a way of knowing this place, based on centuries of direct observation, based on the “local knowledge” mentioned by Lopez. As Kamapua‘a repeatedly asserts, “I am of this place.”
Ultimately both tales affirm kinship with the land, what Lopez refers to as “indigenous systems of natural philosophy.”(19) Wayne Westlake repeats the same idea in the poem Hawaiians Eat Fish. However, if this system of ancient knowledge is now submerged beneath freeways and condominiums here, as elsewhere, Lopez decries its fragmentation:
We lost in this manner whole communities of people, plants, and animals, because a handful of men wanted gold and silver, title to land, the privileges of aristocracy, slaves, stables of little boys. We lost languages, epistemologies, books, ceremonies, systems of logic and metaphysics — a long, hideous carnage. (15)
Lopez asks the reader to look to those whose lives model hope for an alternate future: Bartolomé de las Casas, Oscar Romero, Thomas Merton, the Amish and Mennonite communities. In a similar vein, speakers come to address the class who in their own ways model alternate ways of knowing Hawai‘i, who have helped to redefine mere real estate as land and place and kinship: Haunani-Kay Trask, who writes poems about culture and place; Chuck Burrows, who works to restore Kawainui Marsh; Lance LaPierre, who combines Hawaiian and Western ways of knowing in his work for the Nature Conservancy; Mahealani Cypher, whose life-long fight against the H-3 Freeway has made her intimate with the land all along its corridor; WilliamAila, who works for the return of Mākua Valley; and Kapua Sproat, Kyle Kajihiro, Henry Curtis and Kat Brady, whose work helps protect land from “the hideous carnage.” There are many more.
Thus, the course looks at what is and then at what was, perhaps with a suggestion of what might have been. In response to a looming global environmental crisis that has profound local implications, it looks at environmental issues through traditional Hawaiian values embedded in traditional orature. At the end, it returns to the present, with students encouraged to write a paper on a contemporary land issue. One such paper looks closely at the windward Waiahole water controversy:
Eventually, contact with Westerners and their ideas of economics and politics brought a new era to the Hawaiian islands, an era that led to the loss of the Hawaiian identity, culture and land. Many are still trying to recover these today. Westerners began taking over much of the land in the islands for profit. Sugar plantations became the next big investment for foreigners after the California Gold Rush. Twelve prosperous sugar plantations were actively running in the islands by 1860 (Kekiai: A Publication of the native Advisory Council, Vol. 7, No. 4, winter 1996). The price of sugar began to increase and plantations started looking for more water to grow their crops, especially since it takes 800 pounds of water to produce one pound of sugar. (Kekai)
…
The digging of the ditch was done by the newly-formed Waiahole Water Company, Ltd., now known as the Waiahole Irrigation Company. The company did not complete the drilling of these developmental tunnels until 1963 (“Chronology of Waiahole Ditch,” Environment Hawai‘I). The combined punps and ditches of this system pumped 27 million gallons of water per day (mgd) to Leeward O‘ahu.
This [the Waiahole Ditch] resulted in a big loss for much of the Kåne‘ohe Bay area. This bay used to be one of the state’s most fruitful estuaries, but it has lost up to 70 million gallons per day due to the ditch and other uses. Thus, much of the Bay’s aquatic life has declined (Commission on Water Resource Management, “Waiahole Ditch Information packet”) The ahupua‘a of Waiahole and Waikåne, the poi bowls of O‘ahu, were hit hard with the depletion of water supplies. Many kalo farmers were unable to continue growing their crops and were forced to change their ways of life, and to walk away from cultural traditions. (Haia, Moses, Hawaiian Water: Waiahole Ditch Controversy, Native Hawaiian Advisory Council, Vol. 7, No. 1, spring 1996)
— Sara Nagatani, fall 2002
As Sam Gon points out, the most intimate connection of all is between the land and the language. “That all these animals and plants could be described in Hawaiian overwhelmed me — there was obviously a long-term connection between the land and the language, which I began learning.” (26) Here, once again, the students teach me far more than I could possibly offer them.
