Brian Turner ONZM (1944–2025)

The poetry of Brian Turner is a paean to the local; poetry grounded in a particular setting, but redolent of universal meaning. As an epigram for his poem Just this, Turner quotes the American poet and environmental activist Gary Snyder:

Find your place on the planet, dig in,
and take responsibility from there.

The ‘place’ for much of Turner’s poetry is the landscape of Central Otago, which is where he lived from 1999. The tiny settlement of Oturehua, in the Ida valley of the Maniototo river, was where Brian Turner dug in.

Brian Turner reading at the Circle of Laureates event, National Library, 2016.
Photographer: Mark Beatty

An English translation of Oturehua is ‘the place where the summer star stands still’ a perfect setting for a poet whose lifelong quest involved trying to ‘find and hold on to anything that’s struck me as heartfelt and constant, something that seems durable and likely enduring.’

In poems of plain-speaking eloquence, which ‘crackled with the intensity of their sheer power of observation’ Brian Turner reminded us to pay careful attention to nature, to protect it from the depredations of the heedless and to be enchanted by the rhythms of rivers and hills.

The National Library acknowledges with sadness the passing of Brian Turner, a much-loved figure in New Zealand Literature and in the promotion of environmental awareness.

Brian, who died on 5 February, was Te Mata Estate Winery Poet Laureate between 2003 and 2005. In November last year he was made New Zealand Poet Laureate of Nature for his lifetime’s work in poetry and activism, fighting for and celebrating the natural world. 

Place

Once in a while
you may come across a place
where everything
seems as close to perfection
as you will ever need.
And striving to be faultless
the air on its knees
holds the trees apart,
yet nothing is categorically
thus, or that, and before the dusk
mellows and fails
the light is like honey
on the stems of tussock grass,
and the shadows are mauve birthmarks
on the hills.

— Brian Turner
From, All That Blue Can Be, John McIndoe, 1989

Brian Turner — New Zealand Poet Laureate of Nature

On November this year, the Central Otago Environmental Society awarded poet Brian Turner the honour of New Zealand Poet Laureate of Nature in recognition of his lifetime’s work in poetry and activism, on behalf of the natural world.

Brian in the grounds of Dunstan hospital in Central Otago.
 Photographer: Jillian Sullivan

The National Library was delighted to support this initiative:

‘Brian’s whakapapa of speaking to and of the environment in New Zealand is founded on a lifetime’s presence in our landscape, both the physical and literary forms of it. He is much loved, respected and recognised in these spheres and to acknowledge that with this honour is apt and fitting.’

On sharing the news with Paula Green, Paula created a celebratory post about Brian for Poetry Shelf.

Brian Turner was the fourth Te Mata Estate Winery Poet Laureate between 2003 and 2005.

Read the Poetry Shelf post

Wonder: Poets Laureate at the National Library, an event held in association with the exhibition Mīharo Wonder: 100 Years of the Alexander Turnbull Library on August 6th 2021

A flock? A laurel wreath? A vine? A stanza? A chapter? A library? What collective noun might best define an assembly of Poets Laureate? Such national figureheads of the art of poesy-making are generally considered rugged individualists to be prized for their distinctive poetic voices, for their various 'ways of saying', rather than their harmonious concord.

New Zealand has had twelve poet laureates since the Laureateship was established by prime mover John Buck of Te Mata Estate Vineyard in Hawke's Bay in 1996. The badge of office for each of Aotearoa's Poets Laureate is their own tokotoko. The matua tokotoko or 'parent' orator's talking stick is held at the National Library Te Puna Mātauranga o Aotearoa, which became kaitiaki or guardian of the Laureateship in 2007, with Peter Ireland acting as facilitator.

The attending Poets Laureate and friends in front of Cliff Whiting's 'Te Wehenga' mural. Back row L to R: Brian Turner, (Wendy Buck), Bill Manhire, Selina Tusitala Marsh, (Peter Ireland of the National Library), Jenny Bornholdt, (Jacob Scott), David Eggleton,  Front row L to R: (John Buck), Cilla McQueen, Ian Wedde, Elizabeth Smither, Vincent O’Sullivan. Photo Mark by Beatty.

All the tokotoko thus far have been carved and fashioned by master carver and artist Jacob Scott (Ngāti Raukawa, Te Arawa, Ngāti Kahungunu), in consultation with the poet. Each Laureate receives their tokotoko at Matahiwi marae near Havelock North in Hawke's Bay. In a way, then, these customised wooden talismans might serve to suggest a single 'poet-tree' growing out of the land.

The large audience being welcomed to the Poets Laureate event by Rachel Esson, the National Librarian Te Pouhuaki.
Photo by Mark Beatty.

And so a tree of singing birds, a lorikeet-like flurry of laureates convened at the National Library in Wellington on Friday August 6th to mark 25 years by raising their tokotoko in the air and shaking them together in unison, while reciting Hone Tuwhare's poem 'Reign rain' — or almost. Michele Leggott and C.K. Stead couldn't be there, but Selina Tusitala Marsh, Vincent O'Sullivan, Ian Wedde, Cilla McQueen, Brian Turner, Elizabeth Smither, Jenny Bornholdt and Bill Manhire, along with myself, took part in the evening's celebrations, which included poetry readings expertly conducted by Master of Ceremonies Gregory O'Brien in the acoustically-resonant auditorium.

The occasion was also distinguished by the launch of a poetry chapbook in a limited edition of 100, hand-crafted by master printer Brendan O'Brien of Fernbank Studio in Wellington. Throw net: Upena ho'olei — a suite of poems from Hawai'i consists of nine poems drafted by me in various notebooks when I held the Fulbright-Creative New Zealand Pacific Writer's Residency at the University of Hawai'i in Honolulu towards the end of 2018. These recently completed texts are accompanied by woodblock prints produced by my brother Tonu Shane, an artist who formerly lived in Hawai'i and taught at Windward Community College in Honolulu, and who now lives near Mendocino on the coast of Northern California.

Cover of Throw net: Upena ho'olei — a suite of poems from Hawai'i

I am extremely gratefully to Brendan and his helpers for all his hard work and the time involved in putting this exquisite publication together, from the actual letter-press printing, to the hand-sewn binding, to the choices of ink colours and textures, to the careful sourcing of high-quality papers from various places. And I would like to thank the National Library for enabling this project to happen. Images are below.

All in all a lambent occasion, highlighting contemporary New Zealand poetry, and ending with libations of fine wine and a raise-your-glasses toast to the history and the future of the Laureateship, proposed and delivered with a Falstaffian flourish by wine-maker and legend John Buck.

Throw net: Upena ho'olei — a suite of poems from Hawai'i

Below are images of the poem Throw Net and the woodblock that accompanies it in the book Throw net: Upena ho'olei — a suite of poems from Hawai'i  hand-crafted by master printer Brendan O'Brien of Fernbank Studio in Wellington.

Image of the poem Throw Net printed by Brendan O'Brien.

Woodblock print that accompanies the poem Throw Net, produced by my brother Tonu Shane.

The view from here VI

Between Shingle Creek and Fruitlands

Cast your mind back to the first time you came this way,

      the road windy, corrugated, dusty,

the surface mostly the colour of yellow clay, cuttings

      stained with the leer of water seeping.



On the left the ever-ascending slopes,

      the Old Man Range, white flecks

in blue gullys near the summit,

      and your young old man wondering when



we’d ever get to Alexandra, your mum complaining

      about ‘the blessed dust’, both of them

cursing the ‘wash-board surface’ and you thinking

      about the number of times she told your father



that ‘it didn’t matter’ when it clearly did. And that

      was the way it always was with them,

it is with you, it is, period. Until, you might say,

      something happens that’s never happened before.



Like love came back and sent hate packing

      never to return, and peace of mind arrived

like a dove from afar, decided to stay, and you

      no longer dreamed of what might have been.



Brian Turner

More poems in ‘The view from here’ series

The view from here — Ian Wedde

Takahe — Bill Manhire 

Cilla, writing — Elizabeth Smither

h e l l o   a n d   g o o d b y e — Michele Leggott 

Breach — Cilla McQueen

In these troubled times — Vincent O'Sullivan

historic!

posted by Michele

It hasn’t happened before but it should happen again: the gathering of laureates in Wellington last week for Writers on Mondays was a landmark occasion. The National Library put out 270 seats and there were people standing shoulder to shoulder at the back as Chris Szekely and Kate Camp got the evening underway.

John Buck detailed the 2008 Te Mata wines we’d been putting away in the foyer beforehand (poetry for the palate). He then launched the two CDs (Bornholdt and Manhire) that inaugurate a series of spoken word recordings from Braeburn Studio/Jayrem Records. Jacob Scott brought the National Library’s tokotoko onstage and explained its design before handing it around for everyone to see and hold. He also introduced Hone Tuwhare’s tokotoko, the famous dipstick made from a piece of an old Te Mata wine press and now in the permanent collection of the Southland Museum in Gore.

Then the laureates were called one by one to give an account of their personal tokotoko before reading. My transformed pool cue (Te Kikorangi) was followed by Brian Turner’s hockey stick (yes, says Brian, it’s a functional walking stick that got him around after a hamstring injury). Jenny Bornholdt’s tokotoko features female symbols of nurture and growth that did not deter her children from using its carved grip as a makeshift gun (these sticks live in the world and take their chances). Elizabeth Smither’s elegant cane, surmounted by part of a Holden gearshift and a carved whale tooth, was next. The poet admitted she liked driving fast but left us to work out the tooth for ourselves. Finally Bill Manhire spoke about the gravitas of the sticks and their function of focusing concentration and eloquence. His tokotoko, the first of the Te Mata sticks, was made from a piece of that same wine press to commemorate Te Mata’s centenary and the inauguration of the laureateship in 1996. There’s a sizeable stone from the Tukituki river on top of it and Bill has become expert at wrangling the stick through airport security post 2001.

The poetry? A great pleasure to hear everyone read, and an audience to die for. Some of the poems that were read appear below, courtesy of the poets and their publishers.

• Jenny Bornholdt, Life
• Michele Leggott, (from) poppies and plane trees
• Bill Manhire, Visiting Europe
• Elizabeth Smither, Cole dresses his mother
• Brian Turner, The Way Is Is

Pictured from left: Brian Turner, Jenny Bornholdt, Bill Manhire, Michele Leggott, Elizabeth Smither. Photographer: Caroline Garratt. National Library of New Zealand

posted by Michele
The Way Is Is

That you love nature is easy to say
until you learn that unless you act accordingly
it will call you to account in the end.
                                                   That’s why
we’re required to make the connection
between the sound the wind makes
when it starts the leaves quivering
and the way the white canes of sunlight
line the spaces between the trees
on a summer’s morning.
                                   It’s a case
of working out what’s here
for the long haul
and if we want to be part of it.
It’s marvellous, abominable, confusing,
exultant: the way things are,
the way is is.

Brian Turner
From Footfall (Random/Godwit, 2005)

Brian Turner, 20 January 2008

posted by Michele

I always found Hone engaging, amusing and good company. He was regularly generous and sincerely didn't have much time for pomp and ceremony – he had a wicked sense of humour and enjoyed taking the piss out of others. He could also see aspects of absurdity in himself and was brilliant at playing to a crowd. Then he'd say something quietly, give you a wink; he knew he could do a great con job if he wanted to. Occasionally he did. The more irreverent he was the more reverent his audience became. Hone knew he was onto a good thing there. He was a very very good reader of his own work, one of the best.

I'll miss the old bugger. He helped make people believe that all poets weren't rarefied, could be warm and human – in the best sense of the word – and I'm grateful to him for that.