Kapa Diaspora
Hawaiian works of art overseas
Once a cornerstone in our ancestors’ system of relationships and exchange, kapa now occupies a very different place in our modern economy. As the fabric of life that touched all aspects of how our kūpuna lived, it was made by nearly every woman and some men too before the introduction of western cloth. Today, only a small handful of folks practice the art and kapa is not easy to come by. Yet it still retains great value, serving as a medium of relationship and cultural connection firmly rooted in the ʻāina. And just like the modern textile industry that took its place, it remains a space where practitioners can continue to explore Hawaiian aesthetics.
Surface design and cloth quality are two areas that evidence deep skill by the folks who came before, who set a very high bar. They were the wāhine of the aliʻi class and they took kapa to its highest levels of artistry. Women of those circles had the time to dedicate to the practice and the pick of the resources (wauke, tools, dyes, etc.). In a society where makaʻāinana provided for the daily needs of themselves and their chiefs, these wāhine were free to innovate and grow kapa making to the levels we see in museum collections. If canvas to lace was the spectrum, they were the ones producing the lace.
According to historian Samuel Kamakau, Kaʻahumanu was one of the foremost aliʻi wahine who dealt in kapa. He describes her as a woman who was jealous of beauty in other females and would take into her retinue those she found attractive (apparently making some of them her lovers prior to her union with Kamehameha). It follows from this that she'd want to have under her purview the best wauke, the most talented makers and the finest cloth being produced in her time:
ʻO nā ʻāina kuku kapa maikaʻi mai Hawaiʻi a Oʻahu, a ʻo nā aliʻi a pau i aʻo i ka loea, i ka hoʻoluʻu, i ke kāpala, i ke kuku, i ke ʻano loea i kēlā mea nani i kēia mea nani, e pili ana i nā mea ʻaʻahu, a me nā pāʻū. ʻO nā aliʻi a me nā makaʻāinana, ʻo Kaʻahumanu ka makamua o ia mau mea nani a pau; aia a ʻike mua ʻo Kaʻahumanu.
A note regarding the lands skilled in kapa making from Hawaiʻi to Oʻahu and every person of the chiefly class who had become experts in dyeing, printing, beating, and the high level production of all beautiful things in the realm of clothing and skirts. Among both chiefs and commoners, Kaʻahumanu was the first to have access to all this finery. Kaʻahumanu had to see it before anyone else did.
Ka Nupepa Kuokoa, 26 September 1868; 25 December 1880
Kaʻahumanu depicted in western clothing with attendants in traditional dress.
Kaʻahumanu depicted in western clothing with attendants in traditional dress.
Kaʻahumanu was one of many aliʻi wāhine who beat kapa themselves and/or directed the work of other makers. A famous 1819 line engraving (below) by J. Alphonse Pellion depicts Kalanimoku's compound and a woman beating kapa, which some believe to be his wife, high chiefess Likelike. Nāhiʻenaʻena beat in a circular motion, an anecdote from a chant that kapa makers today still struggle to understand. Ancient chiefly genealogies refer to iʻe kuku used to beat out the net of the universe. Many such references fill our history, showing us how connected the aliʻi were to this art form.
Cloth made in the aliʻi circles is what many believe was collected by the earliest colonial agents like Cook, Vancouver, and Beechy. This makes sense, as some of the most stunning examples of Hawaiian kapa that wound up in European museums are associated with these early voyages. The plain or sparsely decorated cloth that makaʻāinana made for everyday wear and use wasn't the first choice of "explorers" who were looking for items that would fetch a high price among the wealthy of London, for example, who wanted to buy "curiosities" made in the south seas.
Much more than items of passing fascination for Hawaiians and students of the culture, these high level works of art represent some of the finest examples of Hawaiian design and aesthetic that still exist—a legacy left to us by our chiefly ancestors. To be with them is to be in the presence of greatness. Kapa makers seeking to deepen their understanding of what our ancestors were doing will be moved by what they find in these places, by sitting with these kūpuna. They need the love of those who have taken on the kuleana of kapa making. Sharing time and space provides a mutual increase of mauli ola that is truly priceless.
When visiting museum collections, using both light and magnification reveals the beauty of watermarks in retted cloth, an additional layer of design that aliʻi wāhine and others embedded in kapa. It also reveals the mesh network of fibers in unretted kapa. These tools help us see the internal structure of each unique piece—the stunning beauty deep in the cloth that can feel like a whole world unto itself. They bring to life the mastery of past makers and the close kilo provides rich insights into process.
Focusing on the beauty at the micro level can sometimes help to ease the blow of the violence done on the macro level in the dismemberment of some cloths. There was a period where folks traded kapa swatches like Pokemon cards and many large pieces were cut up. In fact, it's almost rare to encounter pieces that you know are whole and in their full, undisturbed integrity. It's hard not to think abut the original makers and how they would feel about what's been done to their creations.
It's even worse when a piece had parts of its body carved out before being crammed carelessly into a box. Today's museum curators and conservators are often left to sort out the messes of past collectors and have invented ingenious ways of relaxing kinked up kapa so that it flattens out and can be rolled for optimal storage and care. They handle these kupuna cloths with so much more aloha than those further back in the chain of conveyance.
At the end of the day, the benefits of visiting museum collections far outweigh the difficult aspects. It also helps tremendously that most of the folks stewarding these collections are kind, helpful individuals keen to host those looking to connect with ancestral treasures. They take time and care in hosting practitioners and allow for genuine connection with the kapa. Saying goodbye to these kūpuna at the end of a visit is definitely the hardest part.
A huge mahalo goes out to all those who hosted us at British Museum (London), The Hunterian Museum (Glasgow), the National Museum of Scotland (Edinburgh), Pit Rivers Museum (Oxford), and Kew Gardens (London).
For Kealopiko, maintaining a connection to the ancestral cloth will always be important. It reminds us to honor the wāhine who came before us and opened the way—the original designers and clothers of the lāhui from makaʻāinana to aliʻi. It helps us to remember that just like now, the support of everyday people is what kept this art alive and growing. Without that, kapa would have never reached its height and our company wouldn't have made it past the first decade.
Global clothing sales generate over a trillion dollars annually, accounting for 1.6% of the world's GDP. Such numbers obscure the environmental and social costs of the garment industry, but they give insight into the purchasing power of the people. Making kapa to clothe the ʻohana isn't practical for people today, but each of us has the power to choose the businesses we support. This is why ʻike Hawaiʻi and mālama ʻāina are central pillars for us, grounding us in something larger than "commerce" and economics. Like the designs on the kapa in overseas museums, these are the things that truly endure.
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