Hawaii at Peace — Fruit of Our Labor

A new, state of the art Police Headquarters was under construction in Honolulu. The City Arts
Commission had the job of choosing art for it. They printed a detailed prospectus and offered the
chosen art sites for competition nationally. The funding came through the formula that 1% of
building costs were to go towards art. Lots of choice jobs were on the list — art glass panels, ce-
ramic walkways and more. The cafeteria mural was the art site I made a proposal for. The deadline
for informing the artist if they were selected came and went. Then, months later, I was told I had
not been chosen. Then months after that I was awarded the job.

The mural subject I chose for my proposal was "Hawaii at Peace — Fruit of Our Labor." It
occurred to me that as the officers ate their meals in the cafeteria a reminder of the nobility of the
mission of their profession as peace keepers was in order and also a reminder that they were part of
the community and not set apart from it would be helpful and positive input into the profession. I
picked up interior police pamphlets from the existing police headquarters and copied their "police
speak" in the written portion of the proposal. I hoped by doing this that they would more easily
hear and understand what I wanted to say.

The financial part of the proposal was broken down to a square foot cost. In this way the City
Arts Commission could purchase, like wall paper, as much or as little as they wanted. I constructed
a styrofoam model of the cafeteria — to show the committee the various possibilities. Little color
mural sketches could be inserted in and out to show how the room would look with more or less wall
space covered. The cafeteria is L-shaped so I lobbied hard to get the opposite walls included be-
cause I liked the idea of the movement that would occur as the viewer walked through the room and
the two images would react to each other - one side being revealed out of the edge of the other. In
the end a 7' x 26' oil on canvas mural was decided on. I wanted to paint the mural on one stretched
linen canvas but for conservation reasons the City Arts Commission insisted on three 7'x 8'8"
canvases, their thinking being that if something happened to the mural it would be simpler to remove
and fix in smaller sections.

Wanting an officer as part of the mural sceen — to visualize the message that the police force is
from and of the community I requested that the officers themselves pick from their ranks who they
wanted to represent them in the mural. They quickly decided on officer Cliff Kalaniakala. I drove
out to his home to meet him and get images for his portrait. Mr. Kalaniakala is a large gentle
middle-aged Hawaiian man who greeted me warmly. He wore dark glasses and a black T-shirt and
black shorts. I suggested that since the mural would be there for many years he might want to
change into something more colorful -- he declined. We sat on his front steps and I set about
photoing and drawing him. His granddaughter climbed all over him as I worked and I included her
in the finished mural tweaking her grandfather's nose. The image of this huge, powerful man being
tamed by a toddler was very attractive to me — and understandable to all who have children or
grandchildren. As I worked we chatted and I became aware that Mr. Kalaniakala was the officer
that all of Hawaii's heart had gone out to in sympathy just weeks before when it was reported that he
was first officer on the scene to find his own son dead in a motorcycle accident. Like everybody
else, I had been very moved by this report. When we had finished I asked if he would like me to
include his son in the mural. Officer Kalaniakala liked that idea and supplied me with snapshots.

The strong young man in the yellow T-shirt is his son. The T-shirt was yellow in the photo which as
I related to it personally represented the blessing of the Holy Spirit — appropriate in this context.

In my original expanded proposal I had "peaceful" Hawaii set in many different locations — the
beach, the mountains and more. Having to choose one location, as I now only had one wall, I chose
my home Waiahole Valley -- a beautiful pastoral vista of jungle and farmland. I had lived in
Waiahole for twenty years. A place I was intimate with and I wanted that intimacy to show in a
mural about the love of the land and the love of the community.

Lydia Hale was the mother of one of my dearest friends in life, Tom Kealiinohomoku. Tom had
taken me under his wing when we both acted in my father's play Na'auao. I was a teenager and
Tom was in his thirties. Tom starred in an independent feature I made "Apocalypse 3:16." We had
many adventures together and remained close friends until his untimely death. His mama is a
respected Hawaiiana teacher and a very dear human being. We were having lunch together at the
Poi Factory in Waiahole when one of her young students came over to hug her. I had my camera
with me and got the image. In the mural I painted it so that the little boy's head was as big as a
grown man's head and Lydia was larger than life. My hoped for ploy was that officers walking by
would flash back for a moment into the feelings of the vulnerability of childhood and the sweet love
of a grandparent. A microsecond of reliving such a moment would soften any heart and build
empathy for children's needs.

The neighborhood children were playing in the stream. A perfect image for my valley portrait.
Over the years my neighbors have learned to trust I will use the photos I take in positive ways. The
kids gladly let me snap away. One child was so photogenic that when it came time to put my
composition together the temptation was to use her over and over again. The audience I was paint-
ing for would not have appreciated the surreal and yet this visual of the children playing in the water,
flicking their hair to create arcs of liquid, had an other worldly feel to it. The mysterious undertone
of life has always been there in my work and I decided this passage of the mural would represent
that — without being overtly surreal.

The day of installation arrived. Doug Worrall had designed and fashioned a koa wood frame that
bolted to the wall and held the mural, well engineered and handsome. There had been communica-
tion from the city employees that they wanted approval of whatever installation system was to be
used. In public work this kind of oversight on engineering details is not unusual and as usual I am
perfectly willing to cooperate. For six months I made effort through calls and letters to get authori-
zation for our installation solution — there was no reply.

As we worked -- measuring, drilling, bolting — an entourage of five men -- none of whom I had
ever dealt with or seen before marched shoulders high into the room. Blustering loudly that the
installation work must be stopped immediately. They proclaimed that no approval had been given
for the type of bolts we were using. They verbalized details of our installation process revealing
that they were familiar with my six months of communication. This was some kind of ridiculous
power play. The energy that it took to think this cue up, to gather the participants and to arrive on the
scene en mass — amazing what people do to feel important. A simple phone call or letter six months
before would have adjusted any perceived engineering faux pau. Doug and I didn't miss a beat as we
continued our labors and told them in precise terms to get lost. They wilted before our
eyes and shuffled out of the room shoulders down - never to be heard from again.

The opening of the new Honolulu Police Headquarters was a very large gala affair. My mother
accompanied me. We had ourselves photoed in front of her portrait in the mural. By chance, Mrs.
Kalaniakala and her daughter-in-law were there at that moment and we took photos in front of their
husbands' portraits too. The reception for the image was very positive. "Hawaii at Peace" was to
be my last mural in Hawaii.

One police officer, whom I had never met approached me, "You know those children in the
water? To me they represent the unknown mystery of life, that part of our life that is beyond the
physical." I had not expected anybody to see what I had hoped to do. The fact that this officer used
the words that I had only spoken to myself was a confirmation of the real of the surreal I was sure
this audience could not hear.