Tucked into Karangahape Road’s Ladies Mile, is a gallery making waves that belie its physical size. Mokopōpaki is, as its Associate Director and ‘Keeper of the House,’ Jacob Raniera tells me, “a commercial, dealer gallery” (as opposed to an artist-run space), something he deems necessary to be able to be successful and survive. And yet, walking into the space it feels devoid of the often stark commerciality that can come with the territory of being included in that breed.

Mokopōpaki is inherently warm. It consists of only two rooms, set in a long, narrow space, and it’s not a place where you’ll find clean white walls or echo-y voids. “For us, changing the background that the art was to be seen on, changed how we looked at the art in the first place,” Jacob tells me, “the brown walls in the Brown Room… suggest both an actual and metaphoric shift in perspective.” Even the floors we’re standing on, he explains, are subject to artistic consideration, with artist Billy Apple removing the original vinyl flooring two years ago as part of his work Brown Room Subtraction. There is even an enclosed shower in one corner of the Brown Room, that Jacob says couldn’t be removed when they took over the space and as such, has been embraced as an active part of the exhibition experience.

The gallery is, as Jacob articulates, “an inclusive space with Māori ideas and values at its centre,” going on to explain, “we are a critical group or whānau who want to make ‘art for people’ accessible… we apply Māori approaches to exhibition-making and the production of artwork.” The artwork is cross-generational, experimental and is displayed in a way that makes it feel tangible to me, drawing me in with its presentation that is both raw and thoughtful.

“One of our main aims is to create an environment where everyone feels welcome and invited in,” Jacob says, which is exactly the effect the gallery has on me as I admire the various pieces that make up HĀTEPE, an exhibition organised by Roman Mitch. Jacob, walking me through the exhibition, points out various pieces that were made by artists’ family members — Te Kōkako and Te Kererū Māui, a pair of dolls that had been sent over from the UK by Jacob’s cousin Te Maari; woven tāniko by Dianne Rereina Potaka-Wade that was a gift to her daughter; an intriguing installation called Decision-Making Bucket by Roman’s six-year-old son, Marcel Tautahi.

For Jacob, the idea of family lies at the heart of Mokopōpaki. “It is named after my Māori grandfather,” Jacob explains of the gallery’s unique moniker. “Pōpaki means ‘clear, fine night’… which may mean that my grandfather was named in celebration of a child or mokopuna born on a clear, fine night.” He goes on to explain how the Mokopōpaki logo also draws on abstract symbols borrowed from a Māori lunar calendar, underlining how “the light of the moon informs all that we do at Mokopōpaki… it’s our way of referencing, not only another logic or Māori-centric way of the world, but also demonstrates our commitment to women and women artists.”

In line with the way Mokopōpaki aims to ask questions and tell stories, Jacob explains how the gallery doesn’t accept random proposals, adopting a more collaborative approach to programming. “We want to show work that not only responds to the space,” he says, “but that also, in some way considers the core values that are at our centre.” Citing artists willing to embrace the unknown and explore experimental concepts as the kind that work well at Mokopōpaki, Jacob underlines why this gallery has established a reputation for what he calls, “promoting the wild card.”

Earlier this year, Mokopōpaki collaborated with Te Tuhi, a contemporary art gallery in Pakuranga to present a series of works by local, anonymous artist PĀNiA!. It included her Pakuranga Customs House/Attitude Arrival Lounge, at which visitors were offered the opportunity to have their own, replica New Zealand ‘PĀNiA! Passport’ that was filled with their photo (quickly taken on a phone and printed on a portable printer) and stamped with the names of iconic international galleries — MoMA, Guggenheim, Tate Modern et al.

Just before I left Mokopōpaki, Jacob offered to issue me with my own ‘PĀNiA! Passport’, snapping a photo of me in front of Tiffany Thornley’s quilted piece, From the scraps of the patriarchy I made myself anew and asking me to sign it before stamping it with the aforementioned insignia. Now, it sits on my desk, a daily reminder of the way that, as Jacob articulates, Mokopōpaki is seeking to take its unique, creative vision to the world.

Margie Cooney, Mokopōpaki (Denizen, Spring, 2019), p. 78 

By now, I ought to know better than to expect the expected at Mokopōpaki. Yet, reading that the title of the group show HĀTEPE could be translated as ‘algorithm’, my mind went straight to gloomy stereotypes of the internet, to the detection and exacerbation of insidious patterns of human behaviour. Such notions are not absent from the exhibition, but it is altogether brighter in tone, more immediately relating to a second translation: ‘to proceed in an orderly manner’. Orderly processes are everywhere, HĀTEPE seems to say – just as present in tāniko and the use of the starry sky to orient us in space and time as in the tangible-unknowable computer systems that support a world of Instagram and Twitter.

Nourishing networks thread the show. Spiral collective associates Marian Evans and Tiffany Thornley reconnect (as they did last year in This Joyous, Chaotic Place). A scroll of calligraphic visages by Julian Hooper, an elegant assemblage by Krystina Kaza, and witty paper-works by Cale Kaza and Finley Lazurek all stem from one nuclear family. My favourite pieces, a pair of felt and mohair dolls named Te Kōkako and Te Kererū Māui (both 2018), also embody whānau ties. The artist, Te Maari, is the Birmingham-based cousin of Jacob Tere, Keeper of the House at Mokopōpaki. Hovering before the wall, with embroidered moko and leaves (or perhaps feathers) sprouting on their faces, the figures are comforting and strange, within caressing distance and far removed from the problems of the exhaust-riddled street outside. They are, I fancy, like ‘worry dolls’, ready to hear our pains and to help us go on.

Francis McWhannell, The Unmissables: Three Exhibitions to See in July (The Pantograph Punch, 17 July, 2019)