Verna Apio-Takashima designs items to be worn again and again

Verna Apio-Takashima is happy to see kapa-making recognized as an achievement, but modestly says she’s not quite sure she should be recognized as a MaMo Awardee for her kapa, or decorated Hawaiian bark cloth.

For one thing, she doesn’t consider kapa to be an art form; rather, for Takashima it is now a way of life. For another, she doesn’t think of herself as a master.

Regardless, the Pa‘I Foundation has recognized her kapa and Charlie Dickson’s paintings as examples of exceptional Hawaiian artistry in the gallery exhibition “Dot / Line / Color,” on view at The Arts at Marks Garage.

Fabric is one of the things we take most for granted in the modern age. Yet for Native Hawaiians, creating cloth, or kapa, from bark and other available materials was a multistep, physically demanding, creative process that can take a lifetime to perfect.

Despite making kapa for over 13 years, and being a kumu (teacher) for her own students, Takashima is still unsatisfied.

“When I make kapa how my grandmother made it, then I’ll be a master,” Takashima said. “Her work is fine, thin, even, with no flaws. Whenever I look at it, I think, ‘How did they even do this?’ Even the work that’s been sitting in the museum all this time is so well-made it’s still strong and usable.”

Takashima is a fifth-generation descendant of South Kona kapa makers. Their work was the initial inspiration for her study of kapa, beginning at the age of 58.

Her brother, Solomon Apio, discovered their ancestral kapa in a collection at the Bishop Museum. A woodworker, he promised Takashima that he would make the necessary tools, if she learned to make the fabric.

“I knew zero,” admitted the soft-spoken Takashima. “I had to learn from fabric that was behind glass, that I couldn’t even touch.” With the guidance of her kumu, Kaiulani De Silva, she set out at first just to “see if I could make it at all.”

KAPA-MAKING is an all-encompassing process. It begins with making the tools and planting wauke (paper mulberry) trees.

Takashima harvests young paper mulberry trees, beats the fibers upon a pohaku stone, ferments the pulp and beats the substance into layers, in a process that takes hundreds of hours. She then harvests clays, minerals and plants to make her own dyes, which she stamps or paints onto the fabric in bold geometric patterns.

“I’m so happy I have the ability to learn this,” she said, her face brightening, pointing to a black fabric that took over a decade to perfect. “There’s so much to learn. You get into the dyes, and suddenly you become a chemist!”

With the level of detail involved, making kapa really is an art, rather than a science.

“There’s no recipe,” says Takashima. “You have to get the right mix of everything, but you never really know because you’re working with plants, and there’s variation.”

Kapa is inseparable from the rhythms and cycles of the land, and as such demands minute attention to the details of the environment. As such, kapa made today is irretrievably different from that of her ancestors.

“A lot has changed. When they did this, the air, the water, the soils were pure and clean. No more,” Takashima said. “It makes a big difference in the quality.”

TAKASHIMA IS not content to merely create beautiful kapa to hang on a gallery wall.

“Like my ancestors, I have a utilitarian view of kapa,” Takashima said. “Design is important, but you need to be able to wear it. You have to be able to wash it.”

One of her favorite projects has been a collaboration with other kapa makers to cloak an entire halau in kapa for the 2011 Merrie Monarch festival. “It was our first experiment making wearables. We knew it was going to be hard going into it. There was tearing, dyes running. … Three years later, we tried it again for a 30-person halau on Maui. None of them tore. They’ve continued to perform since then in that kapa,” she said, with evident satisfaction.

Much of the skill and knowledge needed to make kapa of this quality has been lost; Takashima and her peers are constantly researching and experimenting to discover new methods of working.

“I want to continue to teach the next generation, so it never goes to sleep again,” she said, with conviction. “So they can take it to a whole different level.”

Throughout the process, Takashima said her ancestors have been her guides — and especially her grandmother, Mama Kahuna‘aina. Despite never having met her grandmother, Takashima said she feels her presence, by way of a long string of serendipitous connections that brought Takashima to where she is today.

“I give all the credit to her. I was chosen by her to do this, and I feel so lucky for that,” Takashima said.

The 12th Annual MAMo Awards take place as part of Maoli Arts Month, celebrating contemporary Native Hawaiian art and design. MaMo is supported by the Pa‘I Foundation, which is dedicated to furthering Native Hawaiian culture.

Alongside Takashima, Charlie Dickson was honored for his 25-year history of creating intuitive and whimsical paintings with native themes. A self-taught artist, Dickson showed brightly colored, expressive abstract paintings in his “Pacific outsider” painting style.