The serpentine glass façade of Te Puna Wai o Waiwhetū symbolises the rippling waters of te awa Ōtākaro, yet frozen, still and towering. It also evokes an icy promontory, providing a sympathetic backdrop for Ka Tiri o te Moana, a new work from Atamira Dance Company, choreographed by Louise Pōtiki-Bryant.

Presented as part of the 8th International Adaptation Futures Conference (AF2025), the work bookends four days of conversations on climate adaptation by participants from around the globe. Before the performance, ceremony and tikanga set the tone. Speakers frame the kaupapa, and kapa haka from mana whenua Ngāi Tūāhuriri settle the audience.

The title, a Kāi Tahu dialectal variation of the Māori name for Antarctica, hints at the scale of the theme. Originally conceived as an outdoor performance in Tāmaki Makaurau, it is now staged within the generous gallery foyer. As the long Canterbury sunset fades, we are drawn further into the world of Tamarereti, the voyager whose kōrero tuku iho (story handed down) anchors the piece.

In the audience, I overhear a kōrero about the importance of wai, how the concept flows through the language e.g., Ko wai koe? (Who are you?) and wairua. These layers of meaning reflect how kōrero tuku iho are embellished and adapted to meet the evolving needs of the people as they flow down through generations, becoming reference tools to solve new problems. The same might be said of this work: old stories are harnessed to illuminate contemporary challenges.

Pōtiki-Bryant herself introduces the story that inspired the work. Tamarereti, captain of the waka Te Rua o Maahu, was perhaps the first to lead an expedition far into the southern ocean, seeking the source of Ngā Kahukura o Hine Nui Te Pō (the Southern Lights). With a crew of seventy, he voyaged deep into unknown waters until he encountered towering cliffs of ice.

The events of Ka Tiri o te Moana unfold quickly, with little time for traditional character development. Like many contemporary works, Ka Tiri o te Moana is grounded in a linear story but told through abstraction; the dancers become more elemental presence than character. The audience’s understanding depends on a willingness to embrace suggestion over exposition. One earlier speaker noted, “The horizon defines how we see things. Rather than marking the end of the world as was once believed, in fact, beyond it lies unknown possibilities.” That notion, curiosity beyond the visible, permeates the work and is also a good guiding principle for viewing contemporary dance.

The set by Rowan Pierce is striking: a tower, a cube, an atamira suspended before us like a floating island or perhaps a great waka. The central cube is at once set, screen and container. Performers move within and around it; projections flood it with light and space, transforming it into a portal. Like the TARDIS, it feels larger on the inside, a gateway perhaps into Te ao wairua (the spiritual realm).

Projected imagery by Pōtiki-Bryant plays a significant role in orienting us. Images from the natural world are both captured in high-resolution film and represented in mesmerising digital design. This imagery combines seamlessly with Paddy Free’s muscular, atmospheric score, where birdsong, wind and waves swell and subside in primordial rhythms. Whistling winds wrap around jagged ice, seabirds swarm in unruly chorus.

The great Toroa represents both the journey’s remoteness and the tantalising proximity of land. Unexpectedly, even the space beneath the stage becomes part of the work. These production elements do a marvellous job of situating and pacing the action and only brief bursts of text – “climate change”, “ice melt” – break the spell, their explanatory tone contrasting with the rest of the piece’s subtlety.

The choreography unfolds episodically. Performers shift between identities such as tangata Māori, spirits, elements, perhaps even atua Māori orchestrating and embodying supernatural (or super-natural) forces. Pōtiki-Bryant avoids traditional Māori movement vocabularies such as wiri or pūkana, instead blending abstraction, characterisation and contemporary language to communicate ideas.

Each kaikanikani brings distinct āhuatanga: Kasina Campbell moves with butoh-like precision, as if divining unseen forces. A duet between MacDonald and Abbie Rogers sweeps through space in expansive arcs, while Rogers’ solo blends gestural motifs with quiet intensity. Dana Moore-Mudgway performs before ghostly images of pātiki, seabirds and sharp geometric designs, merging body and landscape.

It’s never stated that Sean MacDonald portrays Tamarereti, but as the sole tāne (man), he draws focus. His restless, almost manic energy reflects a voyager propelled by curiosity to the edges of the known world and ultimately humbled by a small force. In the story, Tamarereti chokes on a krill plucked from the guts of a fish. A whakataukī associated with this story, He paku te ika i rāoa ai a Tama Rereti: “Small was the fish that choked Tamarereti”, is a reminder that even the smallest things can have profound and devastating effects – a detail that underscores the theme of vulnerability. In that sense he becomes an Icarus-like figure, or Achilles: a lionheart whose story inspires but also cautions.

The final images linger: bodies dissolve into celestial forms, the cube’s full height populated by the company, crowned by a radiant light. It’s a vision of transcendence and transformation, and an evocation of possibility.

Tamarereti did not accept “not knowing”. His quest, driven by curiosity and courage, mirrors today’s imperative for climate action. If the metaphor is not immediately clear, the message is: uncertainty is no excuse for inaction. His story embodies the bravery and intrepidity of Māori ancestors who sailed into the unknown.

Pōtiki-Bryant calls Tamarereti a “climate action hero.” Whether or not that reading feels literal, the parallels resonate. As communities grapple with rising seas and the inevitable relocation of coastal marae, Tamarereti’s legacy offers a model: face the unknown head-on, even when the outcomes are uncertain.

Questions remain, and Ka Tiri o te Moana resists easy interpretation. At times I feel as though I need to read more to fully grasp its depths. But perhaps comprehension isn’t the point. Whether or not we ‘get it’, the work embodies the continual adaptation of Māori storytelling and thought.

In their twenty-fifth year, Atamira are more than a dance company: they are a whānau whānui carrying a rich whakapapa of innovation, collaboration, and cultural expression. Under current Kaihautū Bianca Hyslop, they continue to shape vital conversations about identity and creativity, and resilience.

Tamarereti crossed boundaries in the pursuit of knowledge. His story, reimagined here, invites us to do the same, to take the risk of hope over the risk of inaction. Ka Tiri o te Moana is a meditation on courage, curiosity and the power of movement to carry us into new worlds, just as our tīpuna once did.

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