What Is Provocation Station?
A platform. A protest. A bit of a mess. And exactly what it needs to be.

Provocation Station is not just a website — it’s a practice. A holding space. A long-term kaupapa. It exists for those of us whose work doesn’t fit the frame, who live at the intersections, and who believe that art isn’t just something you make — it’s something you live.

This is a platform for conceptual artists, kaupapa-led thinkers, and creative misfits. For people whose art is protest without placards, whose ideas don’t tidy up nicely, and whose lives are one part chaos, one part clarity.

We don’t believe in being boring, or in performing seriousness for its own sake. There are plenty of others out there willing to do that on your behalf. That said, we’re not afraid of big questions. The world is a bit cooked. Power is slippery. Identity is layered. There’s a responsibility in all this. But responsibility doesn’t have to come wrapped in beige.

At Provocation Station, we hold space for thought as resistance. For laughter as survival. For beauty as strategy. We uplift Indigenous, queer, decolonial, and conceptual practices that make space where there was none. That whisper when shouting would be too easy. That build what should’ve already existed.

Big Dreams, Small Pockets

We’re building the thing we wish already existed. Slowly, deliberately, with care, kaupapa, and occasional chaos. We’re in the process of establishing Provocation Station as a charitable trust, with a hybrid model that allows us to apply for public funding while also generating income through a carefully built store — featuring limited-edition prints, small repeatable artworks, artist and platform merch, and publications designed to sustain artists without exploitation.

We are not here to flatten or rebrand. We are here to build a model that is artist-led, community-held, and structurally sound. And we’re rolling it out in phases:

Phase One: The Launch Pad
Right now. You’re in it. Online essays, provocations, early collaborations. Pilot events like Migratory Patterns, potlucks, waiata sessions, and workshops. And behind the scenes, a store is coming — small things that help fund big dreams.

Phase Two: The Print Era
A beautiful annual book series — essays, art, provocations. Each edition a curated constellation of Indigenous, decolonial, and conceptual voices. Portable resistance. Intimate thought.

Phase Three: The Activation Zone
Community programming that’s low on pomp, high on presence. Roundtables, waiata sessions, workshops, artist-led activations — held in backyards, borrowed halls, wherever the wairua is right.

Phase Four: The Dream Biennial
A conceptual art biennial led by Indigenous artists. Decentralised, decolonial, and done differently. Not spectacle — sustenance.

This isn’t about international flash or corporate takeover. It’s about building a biennial from the ground up — grounded in whenua, whakapapa, and the wild creativity that lives outside the frame.

We’re imagining a rhythm: a biennial that lives in Aotearoa every second cycle, and in the years between, travels to different international whānau — Indigenous-led spaces, collectives, and communities who hold similar kaupapa. It moves with care, reciprocity, and deep respect for place.

This biennial centres Indigenous conceptual practice. The kind that whispers, reconfigures, provokes without spectacle. The kind that refuses to be translated. That isn’t always pretty, or punctual, or permanent — but is deeply felt, intellectually sharp, and emotionally necessary.

A biennial for those of us who don’t always see ourselves reflected in major art events — or who’ve had to contort ourselves to be included. Here, you don’t have to explain your whakapapa, your politics, or your process.

You just have to bring your full, brilliant, complicated self.

Phase Five: A Dedicated Whare
A permanent home. Part gallery, part studio, part living room. A space for provocation and protection, manaaki and mess. Built for community, held by whānau.

Support & Sustenance

This mahi takes time, resource, and emotional labour. We’re applying for public arts grants, kaupapa Māori initiatives, and building sustainable income streams through our store and publications. We’re also open to aligned sponsorships — ones that don’t ask us to compromise. This is an anti-extractive kaupapa. If you believe in what we’re doing and want to help make it possible, let’s talk.

Hi, I’m Hayley
Artist. Absurdist. Conceptual ringleader. General menace.

I whakapapa to Ngāpuhi, Ngāti Porou, and Ngāti Pākehā. I grew up in Northland, lived for a decade in Ōtepoti, and am now based in Ōtautahi. I’m one of those weirdos who loves to make things but refuses to niche down. My practice spans fine art photography, painting, illustration, commercial work, curation, community engagement, and the occasional emotionally-charged rant.

I make diaristic, conceptual work that swings between sharp and silly, personal and political. Sometimes it’s serious. Sometimes it’s joyful. Sometimes it’s a chest freezer with a caption that makes you laugh in a way that’s not entirely comfortable.

I believe art should be accessible — not just in price, but in energy. You don’t have to be pretentious to love it. You just have to feel something. That’s enough.

And Provocation Station? That’s where I get to make space for others like me — conceptual thinkers, makers, oddballs, and ghosts of future art scenes. It’s part platform, part project, part provocation.