Latamai Katoa
SummaryLatamai Katoa is a National Geographic Young Explorer using photography to foster a culture of tolerance, acceptance, and empathy, particularly towards the LGBTQ+ community. They first recognised the power of storytelling as a vehicle for change while participating in three National Geographic Photo Camps, initially as a student and later as a peer mentor.
Katoa’s work has been featured at Manioro 2024, a programme aiming to disrupt unhealthy narratives about the LGBTQ+ community, and in a 2023 group exhibition titled “KING BITCH” at the University of Auckland. They have also been honoured with the Alex Mao Youth Photography Award for their work.
Katoa is currently pursuing a Bachelor of Fine Arts at the University of Auckland’s Te Waka Tūhura Elam School of Fine Arts and Design. They are deeply inspired by their ancestors and the next generation of Pasifika youth. Ultimately, Katoa envisions a world where people see the beauty in others, and those in the LGBTQ+ community have representation and a sense of belonging.
Creative Process
When I’m developing my work, I always start by talking it through with friends. I ask myself: what really matters to me in this moment, and how can I bring others’ perspectives into that?
Conversations with friends help me get out of my own head, challenging how I think about my ideas and how they should shape my process. I draw a lot of inspiration from my own childhood, and from makers I admire today, so my work often brings together a mix of personal memory and cultural touchpoints. Sometimes, I don't have the time to learn a new technique, so instead, I dive deep into what’s around me. I’ll spend time at Pacifica shops, for instance, just looking at what Tongan people in the diaspora are buying as traditional garments. It’s like piecing together fragments of my heritage to make something that feels rooted and genuine.
When I get to making the work, I start by mapping it out on the wall. Putting up images, notes, and sketches creates this space where I can sit with my ideas and get a feel for the connections. It’s like building a mind-map that I can walk through, letting me see how different elements interact visually. I also like to pull from books I've read, even older ones, to trace how the things I've learned over the years still shape me. It’s grounding, and it reminds me of why I felt connected to these ideas in the first place. This process of re-immersion builds a kind of relationship with my past work, making each piece feel like a part of a bigger conversation.
I’m always revising as I go, which I think makes the work stronger every time I revisit it. Each piece feels like a chance to solidify my sense of self, to reaffirm my community, and to reflect on what’s meaningful to me. I feel like I’m always setting new “rules” for the world I’m creating, figuring out the language of my practice as I go. To me, every piece is connected, and each one builds on the last. It’s like adding layers to a story that helps me understand who I am and what I stand for, in a way that feels more real every time.
Creative Workspace
My creative workspace is constantly shifting, but the two essentials are my laptop and my mind. I move between home and university, creating a balance between a space to think and a space to make. My studio at uni is where I ground my ideas, while home becomes the place where those ideas come to life. This flexibility is essential—it keeps me engaged and lets my ideas evolve naturally as I move between these two environments.
In my studio space at uni, I have access to resources, materials, and conversations that help me refine my thoughts. Here, I stabilize my concepts, pulling inspiration from discussions, lectures, and even just notes I jot down throughout the day. Being in this setting encourages me to absorb information, try out different approaches, and challenge my initial ideas. It’s a place where ideas can form without the pressure of immediately needing to make them tangible. And when I leave, I often find myself revisiting those thoughts as I travel or on the way home, continuously processing and revising what I want to bring into my work.
Home is my space to make, and it’s where the work becomes deeply personal. In the evenings, I sit down with my mother in her room, and we work side by side—she with her crafts, and I with my own projects. These shared evenings add a layer of sentimentality to my work. There’s something grounding in our conversations as we make; it fills my art with love and connects it to family memories. Talking through the practical steps of my projects with her helps me stay organised, and planning the next few days together keeps me focused. This space is full of warmth and support, making it a comforting environment to create in.
For me, it’s less about a fixed location and more about the dynamics of each space. The studio at uni brings in the external, structured aspect of my creative process, while home brings in a personal, collaborative energy. Moving between these spaces keeps my process balanced, allowing me to think deeply in one and create meaningfully in the other.
Fale-ship Questionnaire
What’s one word that describes your work?
Uninhibited.
How does it feel to be showcasing your work from your creative space?
Showing my work in my own space opens it up from being purely personal to something shared. It’s really important to me that others can connect with a part of who I am.
What were some highlights and challenges you came across during your residency?
A major highlight has been the time to create work I'm passionate about, stepping away from studies to focus on what truly inspires me. But it’s also challenging to balance the flood of ideas and filter out the best ones.
What are some coping mechanisms or creative processes you use that help maintain your creative well-being?
Spending time with my close friends helps me see where I’m falling short and resets my brain. It gives me space to step back from intense thinking.
What is inspiring you right now?
The vibrancy of the queer Pasifika community is a huge inspiration. The work being created grows stronger every year, showcasing resilience, talent, and cultural depth that feels more powerful with each new piece.
How important is it to showcase the lived experiences of Pasifika artists?
It’s essential, especially now, as government support for the arts and Pasifika communities is under threat. Showing the strength and diversity of Pasifika artists is one way to respond.
When your Fale-ship Residency is eventually launched online, what would you like people to take away?
My mother. She grounds me and has been essential in my work during this residency, from sourcing materials to thinking through ideas. I owe my success to her.
What advice would you give to other Pasifika practitioners who want to apply for future Fale-ship opportunities?
Don’t wait until the last minute and think deeply about how much of yourself you’re putting into your work. Come wholeheartedly, and don’t hesitate to make waves.
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