Art of the Week

Week #10

Welcome to the 10th Art of the Week!

What an enriching experience this process has been for us. We hope you have been enjoying reading the back stories of our works so far. 

This week we are offering a very special work to you, the remains of Aoraki Biv. Reminisce with us as you read our commemorative poem below. 

We don't really own Aoraki Biv as it's value is tied in the hearts of so many. So this week we are trying something new; we are taking offers! 

Next Wednesday 26th September we will choose the offer that befits such a work, and you can be assured more than numbers will sway us. Tell us a bit about your connection to Aoraki Biv when you send us your offer. 

We look forward to hearing your stories and hope the perfect home can be found for these lovely remains. 

Much love, 

Art of the Week #10

Aoraki Biv Remains
In Memory of a Biv

Oh Aoraki Biv, what joy you inspired. What enthusiasm you did bring.
As we rounded the bend, after going off track, to spy your blue doors nestled among the Manuka and flax. 
How satisfying the feeling of opening your doors to discover what treasures you’d acquired since dawn.
Turning to rest and take in the view. We breathed in your scent, so reminiscent of a true mountain hut.
Which to us, you were. Sitting there on Mount Cook, towering above the city and harbour, worthy of the steep trek to your door.

Standing your ground as the clouds zoomed by, the Kākā shrieked and the city hummed and beeped below.
Welcoming all, no matter the weather or what intentions they might bring.

Sheltering hunched backs and piles of excited small bodies, you offered your book to any who entered.
Sharing scribbled notes of delight, insight and impressions of the view to any who cared to read.

The pages filled up, the doors expanded and stuck. The roof baked and rusted. The slope eroded and the gorse encroached, but still we visited you.
We painted the roof and chiselled the doors, we carved out steps from the muddy bank and built a real stoop, we cut back the gorse and planted new trees.

We were a community of urban trampers who called you our own, strangers we may have been but we all shared a home.
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