Next month, from July 14 to 16, Woonona's Illawarra Woodwork School will present the More Than A Cup workshop, hosted by Griffith-based wood sculptor Hape Kiddle and Launceston woodcarver Carol Russell.

The three-day class at the Woodwork School – locally owned and operated by Stuart Montague – is for everyone from beginners to experienced woodworkers. Participants will design and craft a cup, learning about timber selection, tool selection and carving and finishing techniques.

Hape told me more about his career, from his earliest influences, including the Manaia symbol that often features in Maori carvings, to his most recent exploration of natural forms.

Can you tell me about your childhood in Aotearoa-New Zealand and any hobbies or passions you had at the time?

I was always a maker. I think I've been making since I was probably about six-and-a-half-years-old, just with whatever I could get my grubby little hands on. I was brought up in a little community called Utiku, which is in the North Island. I think there was probably about 200 people in the greater community, and [it’s a] really beautiful, natural place where two rivers meet – the Hautapu and the Rangitikei.

I spent a lot of time on the river and there was always pumice, so I used to shape the pumice stone on the riverside, and you'd grab two rocks and hit them together and there'd be a fossil in one out of every two – they'd all just crumb apart, and you'd have all these beautiful fossils. The area used to be underwater thousands upon millions of years ago, so it was quite an incredible little place that way.

I think that's where the magic started, because I could go anywhere and find these little snippets of magic hidden in the landscape… I was fairly influenced by traditional Maori carving, so whenever we'd go visiting anywhere in terms of family – whānau – we'd inevitably go near other Manaias and so on, so I'd like to visit other carvings and museums. I was fascinated by carving from the very get go, and for me, the hei tiki, or what people call the Tiki, was pretty much the bomb. That was the thing that attracted me the most.

What was your introduction to woodwork and wood carving, and how did you come to be involved in the trade?

I've always made, I've always been into making, and at some point I tried every material from metal, bone, stone, wood – and at some point I just settled on the wood side.

I think there's a resonance within trees, within the life of trees, and I feel a strong connection to that.

I don't consider myself a woodworker at all – I consider myself a sculptor that works in wood. And if you actually look at some of the well-known sculptors, like Henry Moore, for example, who's known for his bronze and his stonework, [his work] predominantly was actually wood carvings. So there's a resonance within the material that keeps me there, but I fundamentally see myself as a sculptor first.

In terms of formal training, I studied furniture design at the University of Tasmania, and at the same time I studied contemporary jewellery. And then I went off and did my goldsmithing side for four years at [TAFE NSW's] Enmore Design but, really, I was just searching for an opportunity to make, no matter what.

So how would you describe your craft and what inspires it?

I probably wouldn't, because I think if I attempt to describe it, I'm putting it in a box. In a way, I think as a maker and as an artist, the temptation to put yourself within a certain area can be limiting. I really don’t know where I'll be in terms of how I approach my work in two years’ time.

I'm getting a snippet of change going on in my approach at the moment, and I don’t know if that's going to lead somewhere else, but if I look two years ago, another 10 years ago, everything's constantly evolving… I don't know where I sit in the woodwork fraternity, for example. I mean I'm involved with it, I'm engaged with it, but I'm not attached to being in any particular position. I don't want to limit possibilities by saying, ‘This is what I am, this is what I do.’

I think I evolved naturally by process. The more you do something, the more the language sinks into you. I suspect that at some point, whatever deity is actually in charge – if there is such a thing – will tap me on the shoulder and probably sue me for plagiarism, because a lot of my work is really just looking closely at nature and the relationships, extending those natural forms into a human dialogue.

I'm literally holding a pod at the moment, a seed pod that I've made, which is more reminiscent of a water drop, but you pull it apart, it's hollow inside. It's just an exploration of the idea that perhaps the universe was born from a seed.

Having previously hosted workshops at the Woodwork School, what are you most looking forward to about teaching here again, and what do you hope participants of the More Than A Cup workshop will take from the experience?

I always look forward to hanging out with Stuart. There's a few people I've worked with there now, and I've done a few workshops with Stuart, and I'm sure that I'll catch up with a few of those people… I think it's just a really beautiful little area. You could do a lot worse, couldn't you?

I hope [people] take a little bit of themselves away into their practice. A lot of woodwork practice is based off traditions and other people's viewpoints, and when I work with furniture makers and designers and so on, the one thing I'm trying to do in that room is… to get them to the table. We've all got these amazing generation points and experiences in our lives, and the more we can encourage the designer, the maker, the hobbyist to speak from their own self, the more interesting it is, the more vibrant our making environment is.