Blue Space

Quasi‑cyclical with air, pulled in lulls by the moon, water holds the impossible capacity of chaos and order—of infinity. Though its patterns are recognisable on the surface, its rhythms are never replicable. Contingent on the bodies that hold it, the power of water lies in the all-encompassing truth that it can never wholly be contained. 

It is in this space—of contained and non-contained–I call blue space. 

Te Piha translates to Lion Rock in Māori, which describes the divided ripple at the prow of a canoe, also speaking to the force of the waves meeting the volcanic coastline. With the guidance of a local conservationist, I learnt Te Piha is the residing place of many Māori spiritual guardians. 

Sitting with the waters of Te Piha lead to a flow of introspection. My own understanding of nước and the oceanic spirits I associate with it met—in great humility—the ancestral presence of Te Piha’s coastline. 

In Vietnamese, nước embodies multiple meanings: both water and nation. Our ancient mythology describes the water gods and ocean spirits as the driving source of our collective sovereignty. Our consciousness of peoplehood is governed by our monsoon seasons, floods and extensive river networks, and their inhabiting deities. 

Living amongst Te Piha’s waters is one particular taniwha—a spirit messenger—the Māui dolphin. The Māui dolphin, gracious and reverent, is a taonga tuku iho—an ancestral treasure. Named after the demigod Māui, appearing as a shared deity across Polynesian cultures, known particularly for his mischievous and adventurous demeanour. Depending on the region, the Māui dolphin has various Māori names. Their ecological protection and sanctity is intrinsic to the essence of its peoples. 

That morning, the guide and I celebrated the Māui dolphins' physical endurance; and in the process, mourned its foreboding threats. Water functioned as a site of mediation. Together, we stood both within and outside its blue space.  

Using film, I documented my time in Te Piha as it unfolded somatically: meeting the black sand and watching it reflect the sun, exchanging knowledge and curiosities; and then in solitude, following the ocean as it trickled in paths both new and old. The series records my singular encounter with Te Piha’s immense power, as a witnessing of water’s irreproducible choreography; and of the cultural, geological and mythic forces that shape the region and its peoples.