‘Spirit of the Dead Watching’ by Paul Gauguin: The subject of the painting is Gauguin's 13-year-old native "wife" Teha'amana (called Tehura in his letters), who one night, according to Gauguin, was lying in fear when he arrived home late: "immobile, naked, lying face downward flat on the bed with the eyes inordinately large with fear [...] Might she not with my frightened face take me for one of the demons and specters, one of the Tupapaus, with which the legends of her race people sleepless nights?."

 
 

The original motivation for making this short film was naive and straightforward; to make a short film.

My friend and I ran with the first ideas that came to mind. She had an interest in French Polynesia and I was, and still am, passionate about dance. As I set out to write the story, several themes emerged: The body politics of female dancers, Gauguin’s exotification of Tahiti, and my own male gaze. The film began to teach and challenge me in ways I did not expect.

To me, that’s a story worth pursuing.


 

I decided to visit Tahiti in 2016 because I could not write the story otherwise. There was an initial nervousness because I didn’t know anyone there, and I expected Tahitians to tell me “Why should we help you tell a story about our culture?”

Instead, I received the warmest embrace by a culture where art is connected to the community, and inspiration is driven by generosity. I visited dance schools and I was fortunate enough to be invited to attend classes with my sketchbook. 

 

A group of dancers practicing at the local school.

As the dancers practised their steps, I studied through dance figure drawings. I talked to dancers and interviewed dance chiefs, and listened as they told me what Ori Tahiti (Tahitian dance) means to them. Some expressed the constraint of traditions, while others spoke tragically about the decline of those traditions.

Sketches of the dancers practicing.

In 2019, I returned with my storyboards and collaborated with Nahema, the dance choreographer, and Moana, our musician - as well as various voice talents to record the soundscape of Tehura.

On both trips, I enjoyed the hospitality of Matahi, an art teacher at the Conservatoire Artistique de la Polynesie Francaise. We’d spend days discussing the grips of Colonialism and what it means to be contemporary Tahitian.

 

Matahi and Hinatea in their beautiful home.

Nahema choreographing our dance.

When Matahi realised my intentions for Tehura, he told me, “You must make this film. We don’t have a story like this about Tahiti yet.” These words, and the immense support of the Tahitian dance community is what made this film possible.

 

Tehura is for them.