On a lanai on Hawai‘i Island, the rhythmic thud of a wooden mallet striking bark cloth carries across the yard before the workshop comes into view. That sound — the i‘e kuku meeting the kua lā‘au — was once so constant in Hawaiian villages that travelers heard it long before they saw the homes. Today, far fewer people hear it, but a generation of makers is working to change that.
“The sound of women beating kapa was audible long before villages came into view.” — Roen Hufford, NEA National Heritage Fellow (2023), describing the historic soundscape of early Hawai‘i.
Yes — Hawaiian fiber crafts like kapa making and lauhala weaving are being actively preserved, but not through museumification. The revival relies on hands-on teaching, plant cultivation, and a philosophy that the materials themselves are still living. The traditions are evolving, not static.
| Craft | Material | Traditional uses | Status today | Key revival figure |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| Kapa (bark cloth) | Inner bark of wauke (paper mulberry) | Clothing, bedding, ceremonial offerings, swaddling | Revival growing since 1970s; few dozen active makers | Roen Hufford (NEA National Heritage Fellow 2023) |
| Ulana lauhala (pandanus weaving) | Leaves of hala tree (Pandanus tectorius) | Mats, baskets, hats, canoe sails, household items | Active workshops statewide; threatened by hala scale insect | Eugene Onio Punzal, Maile Andrade |
The question of how a craft survives is rarely about the technique alone. For both kapa and lauhala, the path runs through farms, community workshops, and a willingness to let the materials set the timeline.
Kapa: From Bark to Cloth
Kapa is made from the inner bark of the wauke tree (Broussonetia papyrifera), a variety of paper mulberry that was brought to Hawai‘i by Polynesian voyagers over 1,000 years ago. The process begins in the field: the wauke stalks are harvested, the outer bark is stripped away, and the inner bark is soaked and beaten on a wooden anvil with a four-sided mallet. The fibers spread and fuse into a soft, felted cloth that can be decorated with natural dyes and pigments.
Roen Hufford is one of the best-known living practitioners of kapa. She learned from her mother, Marie Leilehua McDonald (1926–2019), a master lei maker who expanded into kapa later in life alongside artists Malia Solomon, Pua Van Dorpe, and Moana Eisle. In 2023, Hufford was named an NEA National Heritage Fellow, the highest national recognition in folk and traditional arts. She teaches kapa for free in weekly sessions at her home on Hawai‘i Island, from farming wauke to finishing decorated pieces.
A critical detail often missed by outsiders is that kapa making does not operate on a fixed schedule. Hufford has described extending a commission timeline when the wauke was not ready to harvest. The craft teaches patience and environmental listening. As she told the Smithsonian Center for Folklife and Cultural Heritage in 2026, the process involves “overcoming challenges, learning new skills, and listening to the environment.”
A common misconception is that kapa is a “lost” art being revived from books. In reality, the knowledge never fully disappeared — it was maintained by a small number of families and practitioners who kept the practice alive through the 20th century. The 1970s revival amplified existing knowledge rather than inventing it from scratch.
Kapa production declined rapidly after the arrival of European explorers and American missionaries and businessmen in the late eighteenth century. Manufactured cloth was cheaper and faster, and within a generation the sound of beating mallets grew faint. By the early 1900s, very few people still made kapa. The revival that began in the 1970s has slowly rebuilt the knowledge base, with Hufford and her peers training a new generation.
Ulana Lauhala: Weaving the Hala Leaf
While kapa comes from a cultivated tree, lauhala weaving uses leaves from the hala tree (Pandanus tectorius), which grows wild along Hawai‘i’s coastlines. About 600 species of pandanus exist from Hawai‘i to West Africa. In Hawai‘i, the tree is vulnerable to the invasive hala scale insect, introduced in 1999, which has damaged many coastal groves.
The weaving technique — ulana lauhala — was carried by Polynesian voyagers who crossed roughly 2,500 miles from the Marquesas Islands to Hawai‘i over 1,000 years ago. They used lauhala sails on their double-hulled canoes. On land, the leaves were woven into mats, baskets, hats, and household containers.
Leaves are selected from thornless hala trees, stripped, and kept moist. Traditionally, seashells and stones were used to separate the fibrous strands; modern weavers may use a pasta maker with blades to speed the process.
The weaver works with two directional strands: “moe” (lying down) and “kū” (standing up). The leaves are kept pliable with water throughout the process.
The woven piece is shaped into its final form — a bracelet, mat, or basket. No glue or stitching is used; the weave holds its structure through tension and pattern.
Eugene Onio Punzal, born in Hawai‘i and of Filipino descent, teaches ulana lauhala workshops at the Kaua‘i Museum in Līhu‘e. He opens each session with a Pū conch shell horn ceremony and chants honoring the sun and land. Punzal studied for three years under multimedia artist and retired professor Maile Andrade, who teaches at the Kamakakūokalani Center for Hawaiian Studies at the University of Hawai‘i at Mānoa.
Andrade has noted that lauhala weaving declined after cotton and other materials arrived in the late 18th century. But the craft became economically important again between the 1920s and 1940s, when families on Kaua‘i and other islands wove lauhala items to trade with coffee plantations in Kona — exchanging baskets and mats for sugar, flour, and groceries. It was a survival skill.
If you attend a lauhala workshop at the Kaua‘i Museum, arrive on time — the opening ceremony with the Pū conch shell and chant is not a preamble but an essential part of the practice. Bring a small spray bottle for water; keeping the hala leaves moist is part of the technique, and the weaver will expect you to participate in maintaining the material.
Today, Andrade joins about 40 weavers virtually or in person every few months to weave together. She is also learning to make sails from master weaver Pōhaku Kaho‘ohanohano, with the goal of attaching them to a traditional canoe for a voyage from Kaua‘i. As she told the Smithsonian, the practice is not about the individual — it’s about the village.
Teaching as Preservation
The thread connecting kapa and lauhala is the emphasis on teaching. Hufford teaches for free and has said she wants to “uplift students as teachers.” Her 2025 exhibition was titled “E Ola Ke Kahua O Ka Hana Kapa: The Foundation of Kapa Making Thrives.” At the 2026 Living Traditions Festival in Salt Lake City, Hufford and her students demonstrated kapa making using Utah native plant materials — showing that the technique adapts to what is available.
For lauhala, the ulana ‘ohana (weaving family) includes Leslie Scales, Noe Mahi, and Kanani Kaye, who assist workshops at the Kaua‘i Museum. Mahi has described teaching as a shared responsibility, noting that when the kumu (teacher) leaves, the craft goes with them unless others have learned to pass it on.
The threat of losing these crafts is real. The hala scale insect continues to damage coastal trees. Wauke farming requires land, water, and years of patience — you cannot rush a tree. And the economic pressures that drew families away from weaving and kapa making in the 19th and 20th centuries have not disappeared.
Still, the numbers of practitioners are growing, not shrinking. Hufford’s weekly hui has produced students who now teach others. Andrade’s virtual weaving group connects practitioners across islands and generations. The crafts are not frozen in time — they are adapting, with modern tools like pasta makers for leaf splitting and online meetings for collective weaving sessions.
If you visit the Kaua‘i Museum, check the events calendar for lauhala workshops. They are often led by Punzal or his assistants and welcome beginners. No prior weaving experience is needed — the class starts with a single bracelet pattern, and the materials are provided. Space is limited; call ahead.
Kapa and Lauhala in Comparison
| Attribute | Kapa | Ulana Lauhala |
|---|---|---|
| Plant source | Wauke (paper mulberry), cultivated in patches | Hala (Pandanus tectorius), grows wild along coasts |
| Primary tool | I‘e kuku (four-sided wooden mallet) + kua lā‘au (wooden anvil) | Fingers, seashells (traditional) or pasta maker (modern) for leaf splitting |
| Processing time | Months — from planting to harvesting to beating to decorating | Hours to days — leaves are harvested, stripped, and woven while moist |
| Major threat | Loss of wauke-growing knowledge, land access | Hala scale insect (introduced 1999), coastal development |
| Revival era | 1970s — led by Malia Solomon, Pua Van Dorpe, Marie McDonald, Moana Eisle | 1990s–2000s — led by Maile Andrade, Pōhaku Kaho‘ohanohano, and museum-based workshops |
| Key venue for learning | Hufford’s home studio, Hawai‘i Island (free weekly hui) | Kaua‘i Museum, Līhu‘e (scheduled workshops) |
Visitors sometimes assume that buying a mass-produced “lauhala” mat from a souvenir shop is supporting the craft. Most commercial lauhala-style products are machine-woven in the Philippines or Indonesia using pandanus species native to Southeast Asia. Authentic Hawaiian lauhala weaving is done by hand, and the leaves come from hala trees growing in Hawai‘i. If you want to support the craft, buy directly from weavers at museum shops or craft fairs.
- Both kapa and lauhala are being preserved through active teaching, not archival storage — the knowledge lives in hands, not just books.
- The materials themselves (wauke and hala) require ongoing cultivation and conservation; preserving the craft means preserving the plants and the land they grow on.
- These crafts are not frozen traditions — practitioners use modern tools (pasta makers, online meetings) while maintaining the core techniques and cultural values.
What Visitors Often Ask
Can I learn to make kapa as a tourist?
Yes, but not as a drop-in activity. Hufford teaches free weekly sessions on Hawai‘i Island, but they require commitment and advance contact. Short demonstrations are sometimes offered at cultural festivals like the Smithsonian Folklife Festival or the Living Traditions Festival. Plan ahead and reach out to local cultural centers.
Is lauhala weaving the same across all Pacific islands?
No. While pandanus weaving exists throughout the Pacific, each island group has distinct techniques, patterns, and terminology. Hawaiian lauhala uses specific weave patterns (like moe and kū) and local hala species. The craft should not be generalized to a pan-Pacific practice.
Why did these crafts nearly disappear?
Manufactured cloth and containers from Europe and America arrived in the late 18th century and were cheaper and faster. Missionaries and businessmen discouraged traditional practices. By the early 1900s, both kapa and lauhala were in steep decline. The 1970s revival was a deliberate effort by Native Hawaiian artists to reclaim the knowledge.
Do I need a special permit to harvest hala leaves?
Taking hala leaves from public beaches or state lands without permission is not allowed. The hala scale insect has made many trees vulnerable, and conservation officials monitor harvesting. The best way to access materials is through a workshop at the Kaua‘i Museum or another cultural institution, where leaves are ethically sourced.
Is the revival controversial among Native Hawaiians?
Some debates exist about who has the right to teach these crafts and whether non-Hawaiian students should be accepted. Hufford welcomes students of all backgrounds, while noting that the practice is grounded in Hawaiian cultural values and land relationships. The debate reflects a broader conversation about cultural appropriation versus cultural sharing.
Why Craft Preservation Matters Beyond the Object
Kapa and lauhala are not just things — they are relationships with plants, with land, with ancestors, and with the people who gather to learn. The sound of the i‘e kuku on a lanai, the feel of a damp hala leaf being folded into a bracelet — these experiences cannot be captured in a museum label. They require a practitioner, a plant, and a place. The preservation of Hawaiian fiber crafts matters because it keeps those relationships alive for the next generation to choose whether to continue them. For more on how contemporary Hawaiians maintain cultural practices, read about living Hawaiian values in daily life.
Sources and further reading
Christina Ayson-Plank and Tony Tekaroniake Evans. “Kapa Making and Weaving Ties to Ancestors.” Smithsonian Center for Folklife and Cultural Heritage, 2026. 🔗
Related reading on IslandHopperGuides
Lei Making: Crafting Connections to Nature and Hawaiian Culture — explores another living Hawaiian fiber tradition with deep cultural roots.
Preserving Hawaiian Language: The Fight to Revitalize an Endangered Tongue — parallels the craft revival with the broader movement to restore ʻŌlelo Hawaiʻi.
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