Inner Thighs, Backs of My Legs

We are putting a lot of ink on my body in a pretty short time.

Two days ago, day three of work, Mark and I, and Phil, and Rangi all converged at the moko pod at 9 AM.

The day’s work: sketch, and then draw out, the inner thighs and the back of the legs, connecting to what we did the day before on the front of my thighs. To finish wrapping my upper legs in moko.

This is a critical part of the puhoro design, since it connects everything else. A very complicated 3-d surface that must be planned in conjunction, and to coordinate, with the spirals that will go on my butt cheeks, with the design that will swoop over my hips, up my back, and over my belly above my junk.

I’m in awe of how the intricate 2-d design of the puhoro can be worked out on such a convoluted 3-d surface.

I stood on the edge of the tattoo table again, and Rangi got right to work sketching. I felt his markers trace swooping lines through my inner thighs, felt shorter, rapid sketching strokes. When I looked down, I mostly saw the shiny top of his shaved head, caught glimpses of his face when he stood back to look at what he’d done. He worked from the front, and from the back, hiking my underwear up into a thong, so he could sketch spirals on my butt cheeks.

Then he had me stand sideways, one leg far forward and bent at the knee, the other leg back and straight: virabhadrasana II, the ‘warrior two’ pose from yoga. Glad I’d done this pose a lot in classes, I centered my hips to face forward, back straight and facing front, hands on my hips, arms akimbo. Feet planted, legs strong.

And Rangi sketched and drew. Then he had me switch legs, and he sketched and drew some more. I stood proud and steady, thought to myself, “a warrior pose for a warrior tattoo . . . for a warrior.”

Rangi talked Phil through what he was doing, and when he was done and satisfied, he handed Phil the markers and had him draw the left leg to be a mirror image of the work he’d done on the right Rangi is a teacher, and I am a teacher, happy to have Phil learning from Rangi on my body. Although Phil is already a fine moko artist in his own right.

Then, Rangi looked, pointed out slight adjustments to Phil, who used iso-propyl alcohol on a paper towel to erase, before he re-drew, having to match what Rangi had done.

Then they talked about the spacing of the vertical heke (rib) lines, how to draw them in on this surface—creating a dynamic pattern of curves set against a stabilizing, rectilinear grid of horizontal short patika lines that will be filled in later between the vertical heke lines to shade the areas between and around the swoops of the puhoro pattern.

When Rangi and Phil were satisfied with Phil’s curves, Phil set to drawing the final design, complete with its heke lines all over the backs of my legs and up my inner thighs between my legs, my position changing from standing straight to standing in virabhadrsasana (warrior) II, one side then the other.

And Rangi talked while Phil worked, and I tried to remember every single thing that he said, wished Mark were recording it. Rangi is deeply knowledgeable, extremely articulate, passionate about Maori culture, about how this puhoro relates to my journey.

The Meaning of My Tattoo:

Rangi held forth, Mark and I listened, and Phil drew.

“Mark, you should go down by the river and shoot some of the whirlpools in its flow. These are like the swirling patterns in the puhoro, a reflection of the turbulence of life, some of the difficulties Bruce has faced. And, Mark, you could shoot footage of the three volcanic maunga (mountains)—Taranaki, Pouākai, Kaitake—of the serrated ridge they form. They indicate the ups and downs of life, and I’ve included that line in Burce’s puhoro to indicate his challenges and his triumphs.”

“In the puhoro, the energy of the swirling lines, the turbulence of life, plays off against the vertical heke lines, which are the ribs, and the small horizontal patika lines that will be drawn in between them for shading. This is like a standard pattern in our weaving, which maybe you can shoot in the museum Puke Ariki, Mark. They represent our connections to our ancestors, to the atua (gods), to the stability through time of our culture.”

“This can be seen in our whare nui (community house). The ridge pole represents the spine of Ranginui, Sky Father, the outstretched carved boards at the front, his embracing arms. Inside the whare nui, the carved descending rafters are Ranginui’s ribs (heke), descending from his spine, each decorated with the designs of different one of his children, the other gods (atua).

“Where they meet the short sidewalls, that is the junction between the spiritual realm and the earthy one. The vertical carved boards (poupou) that meet the descending rafters are decorated with images of important ancestors for the hapu. The floor represents Papatuanuku, Mother Earth. Those rafter and wall boards are the heke on Bruce’s puhoro, the turbulence of life playing out against the steady architecture of creation, of the gods and our ancestors.”

Whare nui (community hall) facade

Interior of whare nui with ridgepole (spine), rafters (ribs-heke) and sidewalls with poupou
Whare nui interior, showing ridgepole (spine) and rafters (ribs or heke) and sidewalls with poupou

And indeed, the Universe has always held me as I faced the challenges of my life. The Universe that brought me to the puhoro in a book on Polynesian tattoo, that brought me to Rangi Kipa, that brought me to Phil Hoskin, that brought me to Taranaki.

“In our creation story,” Rangi continued, “Ranginui and Papatuanuku were locked in a tight copulatory embrace. Their children, the other gods, where held between their curved bodies, unable to be fully born and join creation. Tāne, the god of trees and forests, also birds and insects—also the name of the tallest and strongest tree in the Aotearoa forest—struggled to stand, pried his parents apart. As they separated in a widening double spiral—the takarangi—light flooded into creation. The light of wisdom, the light of knowledge, the light of transcendence and new beginnings. Those are the double spirals, the takarangi, that will go on Bruce’s butt cheeks—that’s what they mean, the light of transcendence and a new beginning.”

“And for me, it is,” I thought, as I tracked everything Rangi said. I already knew some of it, but not how Rangi connected it all to my story and journey.

When Phil was done drawing, Rangi left for the day, and Mark got ready to record the first inking on the backs of my legs—which Phil had said would be more painful that the fronts of my thighs—as I lay face-down. Then Mark had to leave for another commitment.

And Phil and I continued by ourselves. Face-down on the tattoo table, there was not much to look at other than the floor. The pain was great, but manageable in the morning.

When Phil had gone as far as he could around the back of my leg, he had me turn to lie on my back, with my right leg bent and rotated out, so he could finish on my inner thigh. Then a slight roll away from him so he could connect the patterns from the front and back of my leg on my outer thigh.

One side done, and a quick snack. I knew Phil had a music gig that night (he plays base in several R and B bands), and the day had moved along a bit slowly.

Side two unfolded in the same way, but with my head at the other end of the table, so Phil could work on my left leg.

The pain after lunch was way worse, all of the afternoon an ordeal for me. It’s like my body gave up managing pain, and I just had to will myself through it.

But we got there.  

After cleaning and compressing my left leg, after wrapping it in clear film, Phil drove me home. As he dropped me off, he said, “You know, there’s deadening cream you can use on your skin that dulls the pain of tattooing.”

As I got out of his van, I replied, “I don’t think anyone could think about getting this moko without realizing that it would be painful. But it’s pain with a purpose.”

But I’ve thought about the deadening cream. Maybe it would help Mark make a more-perfect tattoo, his lines even steadier without my body’s reactions to pain—some involuntary twitching and jerks. Worth a thought.

Phil’s off to his mother’s ‘batch’ on the coast two hours south of here for two days with his family.

He will play, and I am thankful for the break, for the time to write and heal.

On Tuesday, we do my rape (ra-pay) or butt spirals.

Should be tons of fun!