New Zealand is a windy country, something one immediately recognises on returning home after living in another country for an extended period. Our artists have explored this phenomenon for many years; the wind rustles through the pages of Katherine Mansfield’s stories, it bends the tussocks in Bill Sutton’s Nor’wester in the Cemetery and activates Marilyn Webb’s cloudscapes; it breathes through the music of Douglas Lilburn. Twenty years or so ago Fleur de Thier explored the physical and psychological impact of Canterbury’s winds in a dance work that pitted her performers against huge fans that brought the wind into the performance space.  Moss Patterson’s 100 Winds now adds to this ongoing exploration of this pervasive phenomenon, that can both exhilarate and oppress us, refresh our spirits as cool breezes herald coming rain after oppressive heat, or strike terror as they cause havoc across the landscape. 

Patterson’s focus is on the wind as metaphor for the uncertainty of changing times and he draws on his connection to Maori traditions that reach back to the distant past and the wind’s source in the depths of Lake Taupo.   His decision to set his choreography to works by American minimalist composers, Philip Glass and Steve Reich seems, at first glance, at variance with his stated desire to explore notions of identity and belonging but, as he explains in a programme note, their ‘continuous, subtly oscillating and evolving sound world… has provided the perfect musical metaphor for the changing winds of Lake Taupō.’

100 Winds opens with a performance of Glass’s String Quartet No 2, the New Zealand String Quartet positioned at the back of a darkened stage.  The amplified string sound is a shock, the very opposite of what Chamber Music New Zealand audiences have come to expect in concerts of acoustic music, the sound often harsh and almost too big for the size of the Papa Hou’s black box theatre. This becomes less noticeable as the performance evolves, perhaps because the players have adjusted to the acoustic, or possibly because our ears have become accustomed to a fuller, more aggressive sound.

The dancers enter to the music of Glass’s String Quartet No 3, but almost immediately a new note is sounded, the eerie whirring roar of the pūrerehua, its effect combining the aural with the kinetic as it is swung through the air.  The pūrerehua returns as a repeated motif throughout the course of the work, handled by each of the four dancers in turn.  Patterson explores a wide range of the wind’s effects on the human body, tumbling them over the ground, bending them like reeds, entwining them one with the other.  There is even a passage when the wind seems to breathe life into a prone figure, for the wind is a bringer of life as well as a threat to life itself. But are we watching the effect of the wind on individual humans or, rather, observing human personifications of the wind?  Movements are repeated, just as the motifs of Glass’s music repeat with the same hypnotic insistence of a relentless wind.

The one musical sequence not by Glass is Steve Reich’s Clapping Music, a now celebrated percussive piece that encapsulates the very essence of Minimalism.  Breathing deeply, the four dancers, ‘Isope ‘Akau’ola, Eden Kew, Caterina Moreno and Anya Down, face the four members of the New Zealand String Quartet, Peter Clark and Monique Lapins, violins, Gillian Ansell, viola  and Matthias Balzat, cello until all eight performers are breathing as one.  The rhythmic clapping starts, apparently in a simple pattern but becoming increasingly complex as cross rhythms are woven into the existing pattern.  As the dancers leave the clapping group a new dance pattern emerges with the wide apart stance, bent elbows and closed fists that we immediately recognise as references to the haka, a recurring theme in  Patterson’s choreography.   It is one of the most effective sequences in the entire performance, and as string players rather than percussionists, the NZ String Quartet acquits itself with aplomb in a work well outside its normal metier. 100 Winds was received with great enthusiasm by a large audience made up of both Chamber Music New Zealand’s regular subscribers and followers of modern dance.  This was adventurous programming from Chamber Music New Zealand, building on the success of the previous collaboration between Ballet Collective Aotearoa and the NZ String Quartet with Transfigured Night in 2021. Such collaborations expose audiences to art forms they might not usually embrace, whether from the perspective of dance or of chamber music, but judging by the audience’s response to 100 Winds more such collaborations will be enthusiastically supported.

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100 Winds Taupō Hau Rau carries the weight of myth and society through the imaginary into creative choreography by Artistic Director Moss Te Ururangi Patterson (Ngāti Tūwharetoa). Premiering a new quartet of dancers from the New Zealand Dance Company in collaboration with Chamber Music New Zealand and the New Zealand String Quartet, Q Theatre is filled with an audience eager for an evening of live music, and contemporary dance.

It begins with the New Zealand String Quartet, positioned towards the back of the stage, their chairs bathed in thin beams of light. Barefoot and elegant sets the tone of the performance for this marvellous evening. The String Quartet No. 4 (Buczak), composed by Philip Glass, unfolds with graceful confidence. Violinists Peter Clark and guest artist Monique Lapins, along with extraordinary viola player Gillian Ansell and cellist Matthias Balzat, bring Glass’s masterpiece to life, subtly drawing us into the intimate world of chamber music. The movements of the musicians themselves become a dance.

The second musical work is equally breathtaking. Light designed by Ella Madsen Brough changes gently throughout the evening. The musicians perform Philip Glass’s String Quartet No. 2 (Company).

The winds of Lake Taupō, metaphorically represented by the title, serve as a symbol for the shifting currents within the community. The performance draws from the historical significance of this ancient volcano’s explosive eruption, symbolising the cultural, political, and social turbulence that distressingly shifts the stability of life. It highlights the instability experienced once again for Māori and also Pākehā in Aotearoa New Zealand.

Karakia follows, first in English, solemn and meaningful, creating a moment of connection to the evening’s purpose. This is followed by a second Karakia in Te reo Māori, invoking the ancient.

The dancers enter. Isope ‘Akau’ola begins by drawing on those ancient voices through the Pùrerehua, a traditional Māori wind-powered instrument. The wind, as an elemental force, sets the stage for the myriad forms the dancers will take, and even the simplicity of their occasioned hand gestures. The trio, Eden Kew, Caterina Moreno, and Anya Down, moves in precise formation. The dancers’ costumes are silvery grey like clouds of ash recently fallen. Every detail and each seamless collaboration highlights just how thoughtfully this evening has been crafted. In a stunning synchronisation with Steve Reich’s Clapping Music, the performers come together, merging sound and dance.

As the dance unfolds, the theme of change takes centre stage. The dancers’ haka, with immediacy and wildish movements, evokes not only the wind in its capricious gesture but the volatility of everything connected to the forces of nature. This choreography, deeply rooted in the landscape and winds of Lake Taupō, becomes a visceral expression of that caldera environment. The stunning movements one after another extends the concept of Hau, emblematic of the exchange between land, musicians, dancers, and the natural world.

The final musical piece of the evening, with its relentless and restless energy, is Philip Glass’s No. 3 (Mishima). The music serves as a backdrop to the dancers’ corollary of movement that becomes a crescendo of extended brilliance.

At its core, 100 Winds explores how individuals and societies remain supported amidst currents of change. The dancers, musicians, and artistic whānau embody the value of expression during times of unlikely useful transformation. It is not the change itself that holds significance, but the way this work upholds value with resilience in the face of daunting imposition. This dance is a must-see. It is a journey of connection and endurance through music and movement.

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