It's incredibly satisfying to make something with your own hands.
Having a tangible object, imbued with personal significance, flaws and all, of which you can say “I made that.” It’s increasingly rare in our digitally-focused world.
In Whanganui my creative endeavours begin with bone.
Carver Martin Winchcombe in his workshop. Photo by Jo Percival.
Carver Martin Winchcombe runs classes and workshops from a small studio at the back of his garden. “Bone has had a bit of a stink run,” Martin says. A medium that is not as highly valued as pounamu for carvers, it’s his mission to make people fall in love with it. Admiring some of his finished pieces, it would be easy to become enamoured. In his display cabinet beautifully strung toki glisten like polished marble next to textured pieces forged out of deer antler. Martin also shows me slender necklaces carved out of a sperm whale rib, gifted to him by local iwi, and a delicate skink, perched on its tiny fingertips. “That was some nervous carving!” Martin laughs. “It started off as an experiment, until I realised I had something that I needed to be careful with.”
For absolute beginners like me it’s best to stick to basics. The process begins by sketching a rough shape and selecting an appropriately sized section of bleached beef femur to work with. Martin introduces the tools by explaining what damage they could do to my hands. “It’s very hard to cut your finger off slowly,” he says.
Sketching a shape is the first step of creating a bone carving. Photo by Jo Percival.
Dressed in goggles, ear muffs and a mask to protect against the pungent dust, I grind back the section of bone to my pencilled outline, scuffing with increasingly fine grades of sandpaper and then buffing the curved sliver to a pale sheen. The warm shape feels pleasingly smooth and primal.
My second DIY session is not as tactile, for obvious safety reasons. Glass is molten at 1,200°C when, in the New Zealand Glassworks hot shop, it’s scooped out of the kiln and melded into all kinds of beautiful, fragile, colourful creations. Though my first attempt is less delicate and more of a solid blob.
Patient instructor and artist Bindi Nimmo coaches me through a ‘make your own paperweight’ workshop. It’s a taster of the hot, mesmerising and potentially addictive world of glass sculpting. Wearing protective Kevlar sleeves and leather gloves, I take a metal rod, or punti, with a glowing orb of glass from Bindi, rolling and twisting it so it doesn’t spill onto the hot shop floor. I dip the tacky ball into plates of frit – ground fragments of coloured glass – and re-fire in the white-hot glory hole, breathing singed air, feeling the heat reflected in my cheeks. Using oversized iron tweezers I pluck at the glass, twisting it into points and shapes as it rapidly changes texture from soft fudge to sticky toffee. Bindi makes a second gather and together we use a water-dipped wooden cup to roll the glass into a smooth ball. The whole process takes just 30 minutes – molten glass is not a medium to linger over.
The New Zealand Glassworks hot shop. Photo by Jo Percival.
And, of course, there’s no immediate gratification of having a finished product to take home. My paperweight needs to spend the night in the annealer to slowly cool to room temperature.
In the meantime, I immerse myself in the world of actual artists at the Sarjeant Gallery. After a protracted, decade-long restoration and expansion project, the Sarjeant has reopened in Pukenamu Queens Park in the heart of Whanganui.
Sitting regally like a pale beacon at the top of the Queens Park stairs, the dome-topped gallery has been an enticing icon on my previous visits to the riverside city, so I’m excited to finally see inside.
The te reo Māori name for the Sarjeant is Te Whare o Rehua, which translates as ‘the house of inspiration.’ It is an apt moniker for a building that, after a $70 million repair and expansion project, creates a literal bridge between Whanganui’s rich cultural history and exciting future.
Inside the recently re-opened Sarjeant Gallery. Photo by Jo Percival.
The exquisitely restored heritage wing, flooded with natural light, is linked by an atrium walkway shaped like a carved waka to dark-ceilinged contemporary space filled with AV installations, sculpture, multimedia and a full-sized car fitted with a chandelier. Pieces from Sarjeant collection date back to the 1800s, with gilt-framed oil paintings and a marble statue entitled ‘The Wrestlers’ that I gaze at with newfound appreciation after my introductory carving session.
Explore more creativity at Whanganui's Riverside Markets. Photo by Jo Percival.
There’s more creativity on display at Whanganui’s weekly River Markets. True to name stallholders set up right on banks of the awa. I peruse plants and pottery, woodwork, crochet and carving through a haze of woodsmoke and reggae. There’s glow-in-the-dark artwork, trinkets and tinctures. All-natural dog treats, kombucha and woolly socks. I’m tempted by scented candles, macarons and big cups of new season strawberries drizzled in caramel or chocolate sauce.
On the southern bank of the river Durie Hill looms high above the city. The best way to get there is by elevator. The hilltop garden suburb was the birthplace of the cul de sac in New Zealand; an innovative community-focused hub that initially struggled to attract residents because of the 300 steep steps to climb from the city. But Durie Hill became a desirable location with the opening of the elevator in 1919.
The new lighting display in the Durie Hill Tunnel is a must-see. Photo by Jo Percival.
Today, New Zealand’s only public transport elevator caters to both commuters and tourists, shuttling the 66m between the city and the hilltop up to 400 times a day. Still operated by its original machinery, it rattles and shakes through the 55-second journey in what feels like a tiny, wood-panelled hotel lobby.
The second part of the Durie Hill experience has also had a recent makeover. The 213m Durie Hill Tunnel links the elevator to the river’s edge and, as part of the 105th birthday celebrations this year, it now boasts a captivating light show. Multicoloured LED lights project off the white walls in rainbow patterns, rippling through hues controlled by ipads. I watch as swirling purples merge to hypnotic greens and blues.
There are similar swirls in my paperweight. Returning to New Zealand Glassworks I collect my hefty orb, now cooled from red hot to reveal its true colours – stretching twists of dark and pale green encased with air bubbles in a solid ball. It’s still warm, sitting heavily in my palm. “I made this,” I think, smiling to myself.
Hand-crafted creations from Whanganui. Photo by Jo Percival.
Story by Jo Percival for the Summer 2024 issue of AA Directions Magazine. Jo Percival is the Digital Editor of AA Directions magazine.
Explore more from AA Directions magazine while you're here:
- Learning the artform of calligraphy lets you create beautiful keepsakes.
- The AA Research Foundation has identified a low-cost fix for dangerous rural crossroads.
- Talented surface design creative Maggie Lam makes bespoke wallpaper and textiles.
