Perpetuating the Hawaiian Art of Lau Hala Weaving

While attending the famed Ka Ulu Lauhala O Kona Weaving Conference nearly a decade ago, weaver Kā‘eo Izon realized his kuleana (responsibility).

The weaving club president asked his then 12-year-old protege, Kaha‘i Chan, to stand and be recognized. The crowd acknowledged her presence as a poignant first: Chan was among the youngest participants to ever attend the conference. And for Izon and the rest of the attendees, that was significant.

“We really need to get the younger generation interested to learn, because what will happen to ulana (weaving) if we don’t start teaching the younger generation or finding ways to get them interested in these practices,” Izon recalls.

Looking around the room, he realized the weaving community was largely composed of kūpuna whose passion and diligence had kept the art form alive; it also brought to light the need for new and younger weavers. For Izon, then in his first decade of weaving himself, the message was clear and the moment proved to be a pivotal turning point in his weaving journey.

Photo: Sean Marrs

Interest in traditions such as ulana have gained momentum over the past four decades with the resurgence of the Hawaiian language. To keep that momentum going, and to reclaim Hawaiian cultural identity and restore Native practices, education is paramount. That includes redefining public perception of Hawai‘i by bringing time-honored traditions such as ulana into public spaces. This focus on cultural authenticity has inspired new generations of locals and visitors with a vested interest in Hawai‘i to perpetuate Indigenous knowledge. Modern Hawai‘i now offers greater resources and opportunities for cultural learning to flourish. Hotels, boutiques, museums, shopping centers and more now offer lei making, ‘ukulele, hula, and lau hala weaving classes as entry points to Hawaiian culture.

Tradition notes the use of lau hala (pandanus leaves) as the base of many treasured things—from functional home thatching, floor mats and baskets to fashionable fans, bags and hats.

In Old Hawai‘i, woven objects were practical and plentiful. Accounts by early explorers and missionaries note the beauty of the plaited goods throughout Hawai‘i. As modern conveniences advanced, however, these prized possessions were at risk of becoming cultural novelties. Items once commonly used in everyday life became precious treasures reserved for special occasions, and the skilled hands of weavers lacked new interest to transfer that essential knowledge.

That experience was familiar to Izon’s, whose own introduction to the craft was unlikely. While studying under kumu ‘ōlelo Hawai‘i (Hawaiian language teacher) Ipolani Vaughan, Izon asked the kumu if she could weave a piece for him. She turned down his request, urging him instead to learn to weave himself. “I originally didn’t want to, but everything I was forced to do, I learned to love afterwards,” he says with a laugh.

The process was slow and steady, with Izon spending years weaving only the likes of bottle covers before branching out with the help of teachers and master weavers Evva Lim, Suzi Swartman and Margaret Lovett. These kumu nurtured his interest and honed his skills with each new technique they passed on. “They shaped the way that I view weaving and how I teach today because I took things I learned from each of them,” he says.

Years later Izon established himself as an independent weaver when he accepted his first formal student, longtime friend and kumu hula Pueo Pata. The pair’s shared interest in Hawaiian language and arts flourished through weaving, with Pata becoming not only his first pupil but also the foundation upon which Izon’s teachings would grow. And stepping into the role of kumu helped Izon realize his own potential for teaching.

Cultural practitioners Pueo Pata and Kā‘eo Izon.
Photo: Aaron K. Yoshino

Before long, Native Hawaiian men’s group ‘Aha Kāne approached Izon with a request to teach 11- to 16 year-old boys to weave. Although apprehensive, he took on the challenge and witnessed a profound shift happening among the students.

“I remember sitting around the table one day and I saw the boys singing … and weaving their baskets,” he says. “I saw how the boys worked together to support one another, owning their cultural identity through this practice. It made me realize how few male weavers there were, so I thought I should start a men’s group.”

Pata supported the effort to invite more boys and men into weaving.

“[Kā‘eo] said it would be cool to start a nurturing environment for kāne to learn, and things started to align. Kāne came, a partnership with ‘Aha Kāne materialized,” Pata says, “and boom—Hui ‘Ala Hīnano was formed.”

In 2017 the men of Hui ‘Ala Hīnano gathered weekly to work on their projects, immersed in Hawaiian music, ‘ōlelo Hawai‘i and hana no‘eau (Hawaiian crafts). Some were already enrolled in Izon’s weekly Hawaiian language classes; here, they could put their lessons into practice in a cultural environment surrounded by like-minded brothers. Kawohikūkahi Adversalo joined the group in 2021 and was immediately struck by the camaraderie there.

“When I first started weaving after graduating high school, it was with Auntie Lorna [Pacheco] and a lot of older aunties and Nā Mea Hawai‘i, so it was very different when I first started with Hui ‘Ala Hīnano. It was really neat to have an established group with men close in age to me,” Adversalo says.

Classes shifted online during the pandemic in 2020, and technology also became an outlet for Izon, who gained popularity on Instagram and TikTok when he began sharing his woven works and Native perspectives through witty humor and playful sarcasm. His social media following quickly grew and inquiries soon flooded his inbox, but this time with wāhine (women) eager to learn how to weave.

“It was then that I realized I needed two groups, so there was a balance of kū and hina, and they could exist as brother-sister groups,” Izon explains, referencing the Hawaiian ideology of masculine and feminine balance. In an effort to create that space for new haumāna (students), he opened his first female cohort with 14 women and formally established Hui Waianuhea o ka Pua Hala in 2021.

The learning curve was steep in this first iteration for the 18-week cohort. Weavers met once a week for two-hour sessions, with a goal of completing three projects to present at the group’s final hō‘ike (exhibit): a pale ‘ōmole wai (water bottle cover), a piko ‘ole (crownless hat), and a pāpale (hat).

Since the students only had a total of 36 hours with their kumu, collaboration was key.

“Kumu’s style of teaching is to build our own community,” says Ululani Oana, a student in the women’s group. “For a lot of us, we were there for the experience and values. We don’t take offense to constructive criticism because it helps us to be better and to become more maiau (skillful). Because of that, we are able to support one another and build a really strong pilina (relationship) with everyone.”

Hats masterfully woven from lau hala.
Photo: Aaron K. Yoshino

Seven years after becoming Izon’s first formal student, Pata has affirmed his role in the hui as its appointed kahu, or steward. His trusted insights and cultural guidance have been invaluable in building the community alongside Izon, nurturing what has blossomed into two flourishing weaving groups. Two years after its founding, over 100 female weavers of all ages had joined the Hui Waianuhea o ka Pua Hala community, which is now working on its 11th cohort.

“The way kumu Kā‘eo is teaching is based on a mission to not only elevate weaving, but also learning a way of living so that the lessons are transferable into your own life,” shares member Kaleilehua Maioho-Carrillo. “The identity building comes through shared experiences—that’s how communities are distinguished and built. We all cheer each other on and feel that when one person does well, it elevates all of us connected to the hui.”

The exponential growth nā hui have seen is indicative of the vested interest in ulana lau hala that has surged in recent years, prompting Izon to broaden his scope and advance greater professional opportunities for weavers as well.

“I admire the fact that in places like Aotearoa (New Zealand), they have a university solely dedicated to perpetuating their Māori weaving traditions,” Izon says. “For our hui, I am striving to make ulana not just a form of hana (work) for my students and myself, but for us to evolve to make it our ‘oihana (profession) to elevate this practice.”

For him and Pata, this includes establishing new weaving protocols and studies akin to the formal ‘ūniki ceremony in which hula students graduate into new roles in hālau.

“I want to make sure we stay on track in terms of being culturally appropriate, because there are no known ulana protocols—so now we are innovating. Everything we do has to have substance and purpose to it,” he says.

For Pata, establishing a formal ulana school steeped in Hawaiian culture requires the study of various pillars of thought, including language, discipline, the environment and resource management. “We are encouraged to maintain the values we inherit while doing what we can to elevate our lineage and skills,” he says. “This involves constantly striving to move past proficiency and aiming instead for mastery. I’m proud that we are able to maintain these things while expanding into possibilities that did not exist in the times of the kūpuna.”

What Hui ‘Ala Hīnano and Hui Waianuhea o ka Pua Hala have accomplished in the world of ulana is nothing short of remarkable. Their efforts have inspired a new wave of weavers and generations of interest to revitalize a time-honored tradition that was at risk of becoming a novelty. For haumāna like Maioho-Carrillo, the simple practice of this art form is evidence of the need for more investment in Hawaiian cultural endeavors.

The kāne weaving cohorts.
Photo: Ruben Carrillo

The wāhine weaving cohorts.
Photo: Ruben Carrillo

“My advice to anyone is to take up a cultural practice—it doesn’t matter what,” Maioho-Carrillo says. “In doing so, you will connect with others, have a stronger sense of identity, and confidence in knowing your place within your community.”

As the cohorts continue to grow and nā hui evolve, so too will the kumu who guide their studies. “To me, kumu is not a title, it’s a function,” Izon insists. He encourages haumāna to explore their studies both within and beyond the groups to expand their skills. And as a product of the teachings of his own four kumu, his appreciation for the role and responsibilities of kumu is unwavering.

“This is my idea of community—it’s not just the students who benefit, it’s me as the kumu, too,” he says. “That’s what a community should be, where everybody benefits from one another.”

Learn Here

Inside Kāʻeo Izon’s class.
Photo: Sean Marrs

Nā Mea Hawai‘i, O‘ahu

This beloved local boutique is a treasured resource for Native Hawaiian books, music, fashion and home goods, as well as cultural courses, including kīpuka workshops and ulana classes. nameahawaii.com

Royal Hawaiian Center, O‘ahu

Waikīkī’s premier shopping destination includes boutique and luxury shopping, as well as daily cultural programming. Guests can learn beginner weaving techniques from 11 a.m. to noon on Wednesdays. Classes are free and limited to the first 24 guests, ages 10 and older. royalhawaiiancenter.com

Private Lessons with Kā‘eo Izon, O‘ahu

Visitors can set up individual or private group introductory weaving lessons with Izon. Contact Izon via Instagram @native.narcissism.

The Kāhala Hotel & Resort, O‘ahu

Kona-based weaver Keoua Nelson teaches from 10 to 11:30 a.m. on Tuesdays at the hotel. He also shares the history and utility of ulana in Hawai‘i. kahalaresort.com