OUR MOʻOLELO

Our story is humble but real. No years of extensive training at prestigious schools familiarizing ourselves with the greats, being guided by the techniques of professors, or having the lingo of art impressed upon us. Our story begins in a hālau, Tūtū Puaʻs hālau. Amongst the wood shavings of a pahu (drum) being birthed, so to was my dadʻs interest in art.

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Guided by ancestral memory it didn't take long for dad to unmask his natural talent and others to notice. Art was a passion from grade school that got him out of the daily academic rhetoric. Instead, dad was put to work by school facilitators, creating and selling pieces to fund school projects and organizations. Trial and error, working with different mediums, experience became his greatest asset.

The years would find my dad married, with 3 children, disabled, and no means of supporting his family. Once again art would make its debut. This time served both as therapy and our livelihood. His frustration was matched by his ever-growing inventory. It was my mom who gave sustenance to his hobby and gifted him a membership to the local art guild. It was transformative, his craft became his art. 

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In this era where academic accolades authenticate an individual's talents, dad embraces the notion of being taught through the guidance of ancestral recollection and allows his pieces to speak profusely of he as a person, he as an artist, but most importantly he as a maoli.