Context, or modernising Maori architecture in Waikaremoana

Mar 19, 2014
  • Article by Online Editor

Text: Jack Davies
Above image: View of the entrance walkway through the ‘eye of the ancestors’ circular window. Photographed by A. Dangerfield. Image courtesy of NZ Historic Places Trust

New Zealand’s Maori architectural legacy is rarely discussed in Australia, especially in the central Melbourne part of the world that I occupy. In order to more clearly understand the issues surrounding Australia’s Indigenous architectural heritage, it’s useful to draw comparisons to New Zealand’s own treatment of its heritage. Its search for a voice ebbs and flows depending on to whom you talk and heritage structures are sparse; our country’s age could have something to do with this.

Once a month for the rest of the year, I hope to introduce some critical thought on the architecture and interesting events taking place in my home country – New Zealand.

The discussion about lost heritage has recently surfaced in Te Urewera, a region of Lake Waikaremoana in the central North Island. Early March marked the opening of the new Tuhoe headquarters by Jasmax in the town of Taneatua, close to Whakatane. It is the first building in New Zealand to attempt to abide by the LBC (Living Building Code) – to be a structure that is net-energy gain. Colloquially, it is generally understood to be a living building. The event marks a shift in the perception of the area as more inclusive – it has long been associated with its fiercely private and strong-willed tribe, against a backdrop of heavily forested, often walked areas. The new building is a symbolic gesture towards the repairing of the historically fractured relationship between the Tuhoe tribe and the crown.

Concept sketch for the building by John Scott, 1974. Scott Archive. Image courtesy of Hana Scott
Concept sketch for the building by John Scott, 1974. Scott Archive. Image courtesy of Hana Scott

Tamati Kruger, chief negotiator and new chairperson of Te Urewera for Tuhoe, believes that Tuhoe needed both a symbol that states the tribe has moved on, while holding important things close. The project is the first in a proposed series of two, designed by the Auckland architectural firm Jasmax. The second is conceptualised as a replacement for the Aniwaniwa Visitor Centre, which was designed by John Scott. This landmark building (and, more recently, a controversial one) has both delighted and infuriated its occupants over the course of its 40-year life – and its schedule for demolition in 2011 galvanised a group of architects to petition for its listing as a Heritage site. In an attempt to summarise both Tuhoe’s new headquarters and Scott’s visitor centre, a cross-section of the tensions around Aniwaniwa will be explored, with the intent of extracting elements of it that are still valid, even in its current ruinous state, and arguing that they should be incorporated into the new design – before it is reclaimed by the bush.

The new headquarters is an indication of how far architecture in this area has travelled in the past 40 years. It is boldly environmental. Initiatives include sourcing products and materials that contain zero toxic chemicals and weighing up the impact of using local materials that are not 100 percent ‘green’ compared with transporting something ‘greener’ from miles away. Other challenges included designing novel systems to deal with wastewater, heating and cooling the building efficiently, generating solar energy and finding a way to track native logs through certified mills. The project also includes a world-first for its seismic resistant timber structure.

Jasmax’s headquarters is a proud structure, built with NZ$15 million of tribe money. It accommodates new activities for all members of the tribe – archives of treaty documents, performances and other community-based activities. It employs 20 staff members and also incorporates a café. Visually, it combines elements from a traditional marae and a woolshed – a safe but distinct gesture among extensive landscaping.

I wonder whether its scale skews the public perception of its value. A tighter building would have had the focus directed at its clear environmental positives, rather than prompt gripes about how expensive it looks. In simple terms, it was expensive – and at this cost, and with the Aniwaniwa Visitor Centre existing as almost a dedicated palimpsest, the qualities of the interior could have been more choreographed and less incidental.

Inside the Aniwaniwa Visitor Centre
Inside the Aniwaniwa Visitor Centre

A question has to been raised about Tuhoe marginalising its people with a building such as this – a statistically poverty-stricken tribe pouring NZ$15 million into a building that cannot possibly be utilised by all of its members. The prominence of the ‘localness’ of its construction – labour and material – is being viewed as a step forward for their relations with the rest of New Zealand, but it may be just further confirmation that Tuhoe would prefer to be an independent state. Kruger argues that the money is well spent and will inspire the community to help themselves. When they do so, Tuhoe will then subsidise their endeavours – helping its tribe develop deep self-reliance and move away from a beneficiary culture.

The second building is scheduled for completion in the next couple of years. Its design runs parallel with the dwindling life of John Scott’s Aniwaniwa Visitor Centre. Scott was New Zealand’s first practising Maori architect – a name not familiar in Australia, but one canonically engrained in New Zealand’s modern cultural heritage. His buildings have been internationally recognised as combining Maori and modern elements. Futuna Chapel (1964) is one of his most celebrated works.

Designed and supervised on-site by Scott in 1974, Aniwaniwa can be described as a site-specific tree house – a visitor centre located in the canopy of Te Urewera National Park. Jake Scott, his son, says, “[It is a building that] exists in a context that it connects with on many levels. It’s part of a story of the place, the land, the people, the past and the future and the story is articulated within the building’s design in its placement, form, function, detailing, in and outlooks, history and future.” Instead of clearing a site in a more accessible location, Scott deliberately designed a series of pavilions with concrete ramps and breezeways connecting each together. Its level-changing concrete basement structure was lightened with a timber superstructure, simply clad in fibre-cement sheeting.

The user is rarely exposed to the exterior of the building – its qualities coming from peering out of the varied windows, their size and shape seemingly chosen at random, but always framing a different view out. The five levels engage the user in a way not dissimilar to a tree house, and it simultaneously compresses and exposes the user to the forest through the transition spaces. Along the pathways, the building is often out of view, and the bush takes over – allowing the user to acknowledge Tane Mahuta, the god of birds, trees, light and knowledge.

View from inside the Aniwaniwa Visitor Centre
View from inside the Aniwaniwa Visitor Centre

Marae combines elements of the church, the human heart, a fireplace and a place of reflection. Scott’s Aniwaniwa Visitor Centre is a church to the forest it lightly inhabits, in the face of the forest methodically reclaiming it. A combination of unfortunately site-inappropriate materials and the relentless weather has claimed it, and today it is falling closer to demolition. Its soffit detailing – internal gutters to avoid foliage blocking the drains – solved issues in theory, but poor workmanship of the wall/roof join allowed water to penetrate. Hana Scott, John’s granddaughter, believes that its ruinous state is because the building was undervalued and disrespected, though she does say, “The beautiful thing about it now in its current state is that it has aged harmoniously with its surroundings, and this essentially makes the building more alive.”

A move by the Department of Conservation to demolish the building has merit – it is on public land and is dangerous, due to its susceptibility to earthquakes and its rotting interior, which is unsafe to occupy. However, a petition has secured the building as Grade A Heritage listed.

The tension between demolishing and, in a way, monumentalising the building is this: is it being misread as a building of high quality because of the pedigree of the architect, or is it a genuinely important building that has aggressively deteriorated due to its rainforest site? I suspect it is more the latter – a building possessing extraordinary light quality and circulation. With a less single-minded approach during construction, it could have been reinforced at an early stage with a more resilient material approach.

Therefore, its existence beyond today is to be carefully monitored and documented, as it is a sensitive, modern, distinctly Maori architecture. Its continued existence will see it studied by generations of New Zealand architecture students, who will learn from its successes and shortcomings. Eventually, if it is not sped up by demolition, it will return to Te Urewera forest, leaving only a concrete skeleton – which would be fitting for a building shouldering this meaning.

The spirit of Aniwaniwa is strongest in its dissolving nature – the approach taken by modernist architects to provide a singular vision was eschewed in favour of an approach that floats above the canopy and unravels the further you enter in. In light of its shortcomings as a permanent structure, it defines traditional Maori architecture in the way that is consolidated in the landscape, but temporary – unsuited to today’s strictly regulated occupation. Jake Scott says, “[It is] sitting there, as buildings do – waiting for a new use and relationship with Tuhoe. It is integrated into the bush, establishing itself like an ageing tree, beautiful and worthy of a respectful life.” If Jasmax can marry the qualities of Aniwaniwa’s spatial conditions and John Scott’s design philosophy, while learning from its difficulties, then the new visitor centre has an opportunity to mean as much to the wider New Zealand community as it does to its locals.

Conversation • 6 comments

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19 Mar 14 at 2:47 PM • Elizabeth Farrelly

Quote: “In light of its shortcomings as a permanent structure, it defines traditional Maori architecture in the way that is consolidated in the landscape, but temporary – unsuited to today’s strictly regulated occupation.”

But how? In what sense is it traditionally Maori – or Maori at all, actually? Scott may have been part Maori but the work, from what we can see (which is not a lot) is indistinguishable from that of other Pakeha architects at the time, notably Ian Athfield & Roger Walker. So is it or isn’t it ‘Maori’? In what ways? And is this a good thing or a thoroughly patronising gesture? Also what does it look like? How does it relate to the Jazmax building? And where did the ‘tribe’ money come from?

If a conversation is to begin,surely taking a discernible stance would help?

best wishes

elizabeth farrelly

20 Mar 14 at 12:36 PM • Elizabeth Farrelly

Sorry – also should have said (first) interesting piece!



20 Mar 14 at 2:32 PM • Billy Bob

A typically blustering response from E.M. Farrelly. And a nice (snide) follow up too!

21 Mar 14 at 9:05 AM • Maitiu Ward

I disagree, Billy Bob (?) – I don’t think Jack adequately addresses that issue of identity either, especially given the largely Australian readership of this site, most of whom, as Jack recognises, won’t be familiar with Scott’s work (or Athfield’s or Walker’s, for that matter). Regardless, I really enjoyed this piece and thank you Jack – looking forward to reading more! MW

22 Mar 14 at 6:55 PM • Jack

Hi all, thanks for your thoughts.

I am sure John Scott would balk at the suggestion that his work is “Maori” architecture, rather that he is a Maori who practiced architecture. His influences were people like the Group and Vernon Brown. In this vein, he can be criticised the same as Ath or Walker without the patronising glaze of “its good because its Maori”. In saying this, his work often was distinctly modernist, while imbuing some very traditional aspects of whare and pa architecture – deeply personal, straightforward materials, a “heart”.

A 9min video of the new Jasmax Tuhoe HQ can be found here:

The idea for this article was to create some awareness of the Aniwaniwa visitor centre, and try and discern what qualities could be extracted for the as-yet undesigned Jasmax replacement, the second of two commissions for the area. It also criticises the fact that if it was built with a bit more resilience, more people could enjoy it, although its current state has a certain atmosphere. The money comes from the Tuhoe tribe, they have significant land holdings that they forest and farm.

I look forward to any more questions.

11 May 14 at 9:49 PM • tyson

Hi Jack, sorry to come to this late. Great to see John Scott’s Aniwaniwa visitors centre being opened to a wider audience.

I’d like to add in to the mix the very different view Maori often have toward restoration and ‘saving’ a building. There are numerous examples (continued today) where a special building is left to decay, mostly due to its mana being so great or it being very tapu (or both). Restoration will not occur, rather it will be left to the mercy of the environment.

This is an important point given the current status of Scott’s building but also the context it sits in. There is a lot of depth to this context – from the status of the national park where it resides (and the accompanying story of land alienation by the Crown), as well as the struggle of the Tuhoe people to obtain some sort of control over their destiny (which you note in terms of Tuhoe HQ in Taneatua). It is also hard to appreciate Scott’s Aniwaniwa visitor centre without understanding Colin McCahon’s Urewera Triptych which it was built to house. The story of McCahon’s painting and Scott’s building go hand in hand, and together tell of cross-cultural conflict and struggle (see and

So what? Well, you note that Jasmax’s new Tuhoe HQ is a ‘Living Building’. It is a statement of self-determination (off-the-grid, powers itself etc), and as such in architectural dialogues it’s status as ‘Living’ is spoken in only environmental terms (i.e. latest modern architectural fad/focus). ‘Living’ to Maori also means existing in multiple dimensions (whakapapa, Te Ao Marama etc). I’d therefore argue that ‘Living’ immediately encompasses dying/death/the dead for Maori, which in the European architectural tradition buildings are supposed to deny vehemently (mostly).

In this sense you could say that Scott’s building is more living than the new Tuhoe HQ. Its decay perfectly undermines the Department of Conversation’s hold on land taken from Tuhoe. Its timing couldn’t be any better – just when Tuhoe gains both the political and financial ability to assert its sovereignty over its land, room for the new building is being made via the demise of the old one. It was built to be subservient to the whenua it was part of, and it is now experiencing the ultimate point of this subservience. You’d almost think Scott had planned it this way.

I don’t think this makes it a ‘Maori’ building or ‘Maori architecture’. It does make it worthy of further study and discussion, as you note. Building a new visitor centre without looking at the old one from a variety of perspectives is unlikely to lead to good architecture.


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