Dunedin Writers and Readers Festival: A Serious Joy
A reflection from Helen Lehndorf
Helen Lehndorf (left), Alby Hailes and Liv Sisson in the Green Room during Dunedin Writers & Readers Festival.
My Dunedin Writers and Readers Festival begins with bumping into my panel-mate, Liv Sisson, in the Octagon. I’m sweaty. I’m dressed in merino for the glacial Manawatū spring day I left behind and have arrived to find Dunedin has already welcomed summer. Despite this, Liv and I hug, excited to meet in person for the first time. Because we are highly professional (a.k.a, anxious nerds) we’ve already met, along with our other panel-mate, Alby Hailes, in a Zoom meeting a couple weeks before…so I feel like I already know Liv a little bit. We’re full of excited chatter. It’s a lovely serendipitous moment to start on and the warm vibes just increase from there.
The Festival’s Gala Opening, a celebrations of 50 years of the writing of Witi Ihimaera, is at the regal Regent Theatre, complete with a roped off red carpet. The theatre is formal, all red velvet and gilt plaster…Stacey Morrison hosts the event and, somehow immediately bridges the cavern between the stage and the audience, inviting us to lean forward and be part of a night that unfolds into a magical mixture of eccentric house party, family talent show and profound whaikōrero. Guest of honour, Witi looks hip in a long, black velvet jacket and beret. Stacey gets us all clapping, nodding and whooping…undoing the formality of the venue.
Witi is warm, commanding…by turns hilarious, ‘if you know me at all, you’ll know I love singing and I love dancing. You’ll also know, I can’t sing and I can’t dance. But too bad! You’re all here for ME tonight…so I’m going to sing! And I’m going to dance!’
And he does! Several numbers! And it’s the sweetest thing to be a part of. And then he’s profound. He speaks of how, for Maori artists, with a combination of self-belief and the support of tipuna, the achievements of indigenous art can be exponential, impossible to quantify, spiralling out in all directions.
DWRF is a ‘values-led’ festival and, as a participant, I feel it. The crew are warm, welcoming, helpful, funny. The other writers are friendly, encouraging, curious. The audiences are generous and intelligent. There is a culture of intergenerational braiding: elders holding space for the younger ones, the younger ones linking arms with elders.
Out there, it’s an election weekend…with all the tensions that brings…but ’in here’…the festival bubble…it’s warm, it’s intellectually-rich, there’s a hard-earned ease. I allow myself to be coddled…grateful.
Perhaps reflecting the charged atmosphere outside, my own session with Liv Sisson and Alby Hailes ends up being quite politically-charged. The three of us have OPINIONS. But then, anyone involved in food resilience or mental health…it’s no secret that the topics of food and food-access are highly political. My second session with Liv the next day, effortlessly chaired by Nicky Pellegrino, is more plant-oriented. We defend the eating of weird, stringy, bitter wild foods and we laugh a lot.
Before the festival, I secretly hoped that Alby Hailes (a man who runs a baking business on top of being a full-time doctor!) might bring one of his Beau cakes for Liv and I…I am not disappointed. Alby caters the Festival’s Katherine Mansfield afternoon tea and brings us the most delicate and pretty cupcakes…iced in dusky pink roses and yellow karaka berries. We can’t pretend any restraint and each scoff one immediately, in a subterranean cocktail bar Alby takes us to, post-event.
I cram in as many events as I can around my own obligations. It’s wonderful to hear Fiona Farrell -a writer I’ve long admired- in conversation with Lynn Freeman talking about her artistic process. I so appreciated that the festival organisers decided to give Fiona centre stage for this event - she has so much to say on the writing process…I’m scrawling notes the whole time she’s talking.
Sascha Stronach and Pip Adam are a great pairing; two brilliant minds in a conversation that roams and riffs around topics to do with speculative fiction…but which refuse easy conclusions or categorisations. I leave stimulated…and in awe. Even better, they are both hilarious.
A fan-girl of Ariana Tikao, it’s a joy to hear her read and speak across events. Then there’s more Witi, there’s the brilliant Ruby Solly, …and there’s the curse of the participant-writer, too many incredible writers and not enough time.
When I land back home, I’m full of the intellectual stimulation that festivals bring…but there’s something more. It’s two-fold: the memory of the Covid lockdowns are fresh enough that the ability to gather, to be together like this still feels precious. I also feel like I was part of something co-created by everyone who was there, something very special, something with a carefully-tended wairua.
And even though I’m home…I feel homesick.