Wet-plate photography and the resurgence of tā moko

Thursday, 20 September 2018

In an off-white garage in suburban Hamilton sits the shell of a hydroponic growing tent.

Michael Bradley uses an old wet plate photography technique which renders tā moko virtually invisible. He created an exhibition contrasting the modern digital technique against the old.

The tent is dotted with tiny windows covered in red perspex.

It's a hack of a job, but it's where the magic happens - a disappearing act, to be exact.

At the centre of the garage, perched on a stool, sits a man whose face is etched in shades of green.

Left: Te Kahautu Maxwell in a modern digital photo. Right: The same man photographed using 19th century wet-plate technique.

* Moko kauae are the 'sole right' of Māori women: Indigenous Women's Collective

* Hamilton man's face moko sparks gender debate**

The linear lines curve around his head and nose and patterns that resemble the unfurling of a silver fern are carved into his chin.

Te Kahautu Maxwell's tā moko is a work of art.

Maxwell's whakapapa is painstakingly detailed in every hue, line and pattern.

His tā moko is bold and animated when viewed by the naked eye.

But through a lens, his face is bare.

Photographer Michael Bradley spent three years working on the Puaki exhibition.

The hues of green and patterns that resembled the silver fern have disappeared.

Maxwell sat for his portrait, as his ancestors did before him.

And, like them, his tā moko, has disappeared.

A photograph of Te Kahautu Maxwell taken with a digital camera.

It's not so much a magic trick, it's the result of wet-plate collodion photography, a 19th-century technique.

And Hamilton photographer Michael Bradley is at the helm of its resurgence.

The process involves taking a piece of glass, such as picture framing glass, and then pouring collodion on top.

As it hardens, the glass plate is then put into a bath of silver nitrate and placed in a dark room for a few minutes, turning it light sensitive - hence the hydroponic set-up, Bradley says.

The glass is then loaded into a film-holder in an 80-year-old wooden camera Bradley imported from India.

Te Kahautu Maxwell's photo as a result of the wet-plate technique.

It's then taken to a dark room to be bathed in a mix of chemicals to be developed.

While it's a slow process - around 20 minutes per plate - Bradley has to move quickly to ensure the plate does not dry out, otherwise the process won't work.

Photos produced by this technique barely pick up shades of blues and greens, especially on people with darker skin.

Wet-plate photography was popular in the mid-1800s, and photographers were seen to carry chemistry labs and portable darkrooms around with them everywhere.

Bradley has used the technique to document the rebirth of tā moko.

The resulting project was an exhibition called Puaki, made up of photographs of 23 people who wear tā moko today.

Singer Rob Ruha, former Māori Party candidate Rangi McLean, academic Te Kahautu Maxwell, and the late Ngāpuhi elder Kingi Taurua are all part of Puaki.

One portrait has been taken on a digital camera and the other taken using the wet-plate technique.

The technique gives the photos an old-time look.

They sit side by side in stark contrast.

It depicts how culture can be erased by colonisers - and how against all odds, it can come back, Bradley says.

Michael Bradley during the wet-plate process.

In Māori culture, It is believed everyone has a tā moko under their skin just waiting to be revealed

The former press photographer stumbled across the idea when looking at images of people overseas who were photographed using the technique.

Some people commented that their tattoos disappeared and the initial spark started.

There's not much money to be made from it, so Bradley started thinking of project ideas he could fit around his day job as a photographer.

'I wondered if I were to photograph people with tā moko, whether that would make that tā moko disappear.

'Then I quickly realised that if I was going to tackle something as significant as the tā moko, then I needed to make sure I did it correctly and went about it the right way.'

There were hardly any references to the technique when used to take photos of people with tā moko in the 19th century.

But while researching, Bradley come across a book about tā moko, which says that the photographer back in the day found it hard to capture tā moko because all they would be seeing was the scarring of it.

'It was not necessarily a deliberate act of tā moko being suppressed, more a consequence of the technique,' Bradley says.

Naomi Tracey Robinson was photographed for the exhibition.

'It happened to play out in time because the art was nearly erased because of colonisation and the church and different things.

'And there were times where the photographers would actually buy makeup for people that would sit for their portraits in the 1850s and 1860s. If they were someone very important or if they knew the tā moko wouldn't show up, they would apply makeup.'

Once Bradley had a rough idea of what he wanted to do, he then had to find people willing to get their photos taken.

He went to school in the 1980s and '90s and says Māori history was not a big part of his curriculum.

'I was quite nervous tackling a project like this as a Pākehā boy from Hamilton and Auckland.

'But I thought if I was willing to do it right, hopefully I could do the work justice.

'I thought being Pākehā would be harder in some ways, but I went into it and said, I might ask quite naive questions, but that's because my knowledge is lacking. I've learnt a lot and I've still got heaps to learn.'

Bradley's first photo was of Rangi McLean. Once he gained his trust, McLean then put the word out to others with tā moko.

Like Mclean, Te Kahautu Maxwell wasn't too sure why this 'fulla from Auckland' wanted to take his picture.

But once Bradley explained what he was trying to do, Maxwell was all for it.

His journey to getting tā moko came in two stages.

In 2010, a niece asked if he'd be willing to take part in a moko wananga at Ōmarumutu Marae in Ōpōtiki.

The side-by-side portraits of Naomi Tracey Robinson.

Moko was a common feature when he was growing up.

'My mother, she's a very sharp shooter. But she believed moko belongs to old people. She said leave the old world to the old people.'

Moko will always live on, Maxwell says, and it's work like Puaki that helps to normalise it.

'There will always be prejudice, both Māori and other people's. But moko will gain more and more popularity as time goes on.

'Moko for me is where our ancestors have a say. Moko is sacred, it's my identity, it's a Māori icon to the world.'

Bradley's exhibition was displayed at Te Kōngahu - Museum of Waitangi, and the plan is to show it around the country.

It was a long process to see the exhibition finished. He thought he could do it in six months but it took just over three years.

'The goal is for the work to be seen and hopefully appreciated,' Bradley says.

'It's been a fascinating journey and something that hopefully won't end here.'