In early Hawaiʻi, the sound of women beating kapa could be heard long before the village came into view — a rhythmic, hollow thud that signaled the transformation of tree bark into cloth.
That sound nearly vanished. By the late nineteenth century, after the arrival of cotton and U.S. annexation, the practice of making kapa — traditional Hawaiian barkcloth — had all but disappeared. Today, a quiet revival is underway, driven by artists and cultural practitioners who are not just relearning the technique but rethinking what kapa can be. This article traces the full arc of that story: what kapa is, how it was made, why it declined, and how contemporary makers are carrying it forward.
Kapa is the Indigenous Hawaiian practice of clothmaking using the inner bark of the wauke (paper mulberry) tree. It served both everyday and ceremonial functions — clothing, bedding, burial wrappings — and was understood to carry mana (life force) from the plants and makers. The practice nearly died out after imported cloth arrived in the late 1700s, but a cultural revival beginning in the late 1970s has brought it back. Today, kapa exists in multiple forms: as a revived traditional craft, as a contemporary art medium, and as a living practice taught in community workshops. None of these versions is more “authentic” than the others — they reflect different relationships to the same ancestral knowledge.
Cultural researchers
Textile and fiber artists
Travelers interested in Hawaiian material culture
Quick Reference: Key Figures in Kapa Today
| Practitioner | Background | Approach | Recognition |
|---|---|---|---|
| Roening Halley Kahalewai McDonald Hufford | Learned from her mother, Marie Leilehua McDonald; studied art at Pratt Institute and UH Mānoa | Farms wauke, teaches free weekly kapa hui on Hawaiʻi Island | 2023 National Heritage Fellow |
| Kumu Micah Kamohoali‘i | Native Hawaiian hula teacher, textile artist, fashion designer | Demonstrates kapa pounding at festivals, shares origin stories | Smithsonian Folklife Festival participant |
| Lehuauakea | Kanaka Maoli artist, self-taught in carving ʻohe kāpala | Creates large-scale installations and hand-stitched garments; builds on tradition before experimenting | Walker Youngbird Foundation grant; solo exhibitions at CCA Santa Fe and Nunu Fine Art |
These three practitioners represent different generations and approaches, but all share a commitment to the foundational knowledge of kapa — starting with the plant itself.
Where the Cloth Begins: Cultivating Wauke
Kapa begins not at the beating stone but in the soil. The wauke tree (Broussonetia papyrifera), or paper mulberry, is the primary source of bark for traditional kapa. It takes up to two years of cultivation before the branches are ready for harvest. Roening Hufford, who farms wauke on her property on Hawaiʻi Island, emphasizes that makers must know how to cultivate the plant because that is where the process starts. During the COVID-19 pandemic, she had to delay a large commission when the wauke was not ready for harvest — a reminder that kapa making follows seasonal growing cycles, not production deadlines.
The process itself is arduous. After harvesting, the outer bark is stripped away, and the inner stem is soaked in seawater. The fibers are then beaten repeatedly with nā iʻe kuku (wooden kapa beaters) on wooden anvils until they transform into a thin, pliable sheet. One side of the iʻe kuku is flat for initial pounding; the other is carved with intricate patterns used for finishing. A single piece of kapa can take months to complete.
If you visit Hawaiʻi and want to see kapa being made, look for demonstrations at cultural festivals or national parks. In April 2023, a group of women including Didi Krause and Poha Kanakaʻole demonstrated kapa beating at Haleakalā National Park — the hollow sound of the iʻe kuku on the anvil is unmistakable.
Spiritual and Practical Roles of Kapa
Kapa was not merely fabric. It held spiritual importance, containing mana (life force) from the plants and the makers. It was used for everyday apparel and bedding, but also for burial wrappings and ceremonial dress. The same cloth that swaddled a newborn might later accompany them into the afterlife.
Kapa making was traditionally women’s work, and the sound of beating was so constant in pre-contact Hawaiian villages that it functioned as an auditory landmark — you heard the village before you saw it. That sound was a sign of a thriving community, of women engaged in a practice that was both practical and sacred.
How Colonization Reshaped the Practice
The decline of kapa followed the arrival of Captain Cook in 1778 and the subsequent influx of imported manufactured cloth. By the late nineteenth century, cotton had largely replaced kapa for everyday use. After U.S. annexation in 1898, the practice continued to fade. The knowledge was not lost entirely — it was carried by families like that of Marie Leilehua McDonald (1926–2019), who taught her daughter Roening Hufford — but it became a private, endangered tradition rather than a communal one.
It was not until the late 1970s, during a broader Hawaiian cultural revival, that artists and practitioners began actively reclaiming kapa-making skills. This revival was part of a larger movement to restore Hawaiian language, hula, and other cultural practices that had been suppressed or marginalized.
A common outsider misconception is that kapa is a “lost art” that has been perfectly reconstructed. In reality, the revival is ongoing and incomplete. Some techniques — particularly certain dye recipes and finishing methods — may have been lost entirely. Contemporary makers are not simply replicating the past; they are innovating within a framework of ancestral knowledge.
Contemporary Kapa: Tradition and Innovation
Today, kapa exists on a spectrum. At one end are practitioners like Roening Hufford, who teaches the entire process for free at her weekly kapa hui (kapa group) on Hawaiʻi Island, open to students of all ages and backgrounds. She views her work as an exchange with nature — overcoming challenges, learning new skills, and listening to the environment.
At the other end are artists like Lehuauakea, who creates large-scale installations, hand-stitched garments, and mixed-media suspended works that expand on ancestral forms. Lehuauakea learned kapa making as an adult, teaching themselves carving techniques for ʻohe kāpala (traditional carved bamboo printing tools) and studying under artisan Wesley Sen. Their work includes pieces like “Still Finding My Way Back Home” (2025) and “Mele o Nā Kaukani Wai (Song of a Thousand Waters)” (2018). They emphasize building a solid foundation in traditional knowledge before experimenting with contemporary expressions — a principle that many revival practitioners share.
How the Tradition Differs Across Practitioners
While the core process — stripping, soaking, beating — is consistent, the way kapa is practiced today varies significantly. The table below compares the approaches of the three key practitioners featured in this article.
| Practitioner | Primary Focus | Teaching Style | Artistic Output | Relationship to Tradition |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| Roening Hufford | Revival of full process, from cultivation to finished cloth | Free weekly hui, open to all | Functional kapa, ceremonial pieces | Direct lineage from mother; emphasizes plant knowledge |
| Kumu Micah Kamohoali‘i | Demonstration and oral tradition | Festival performances, origin stories | Textile art, fashion design | Integrates hula and storytelling into kapa practice |
| Lehuauakea | Contemporary art and installation | Self-taught, studied under Wesley Sen | Large-scale installations, hand-stitched garments | Builds on tradition before experimenting; pushes formal boundaries |
These differences are not a sign of fragmentation. They reflect the reality that kapa, like any living tradition, is being carried forward by individuals with different skills, resources, and visions. What unites them is the insistence that the knowledge of the plant — the wauke itself — is non-negotiable.
- Kapa is not a single “lost art” but a living practice with multiple contemporary expressions.
- The revival is ongoing and incomplete — some knowledge may be irrecoverable, and that’s part of the story.
- Contemporary makers are not replicating the past; they are innovating within a framework of ancestral knowledge.
Questions Readers Ask
Is kapa the same as tapa from other Pacific islands?
Kapa is the Hawaiian term for barkcloth, while “tapa” is used across much of Polynesia. The processes are similar — both use beaten bark fibers — but the specific plants, tools, and cultural contexts differ. In Hawaiʻi, wauke (paper mulberry) is the primary source, and the iʻe kuku beaters have distinctive carved patterns.
Can I buy authentic kapa today?
Yes, but it is rare and expensive. A single piece can take months to make. Look for work by recognized practitioners like Roening Hufford or Lehuauakea. Be wary of mass-produced imitations sold as “barkcloth” — they are usually printed cotton or synthetic fiber.
Do I need special permission to watch kapa being made?
No, but it helps to attend a public demonstration or workshop. Hufford’s kapa hui is free and open to all. If you visit a national park demonstration, ask questions respectfully and avoid touching the tools or materials unless invited.
Is kapa making only for Native Hawaiians?
Practitioners like Hufford teach students of all backgrounds. However, the knowledge is rooted in Kanaka Maoli (Native Hawaiian) ancestral practice, and the cultural context — including the spiritual significance of mana — should be respected. It is not a craft to be appropriated but a tradition to be learned with humility.
Why did kapa decline so quickly?
Imported cotton cloth was cheaper, faster to produce, and more readily available. After U.S. annexation, cultural practices were further suppressed. The decline was not a natural evolution but a result of colonization and economic pressure.
The Sound Returns
What makes the revival of kapa so compelling is not just the cloth itself but what it represents: a people reconnecting with a practice that was nearly silenced. The hollow thud of the iʻe kuku on the anvil is no longer a sound you hear before entering a village — but it is a sound you can hear again, if you know where to listen. For a deeper look at how Hawaiian cultural practices have been preserved and transformed, read our article on Tracing the Polynesian Voyagers: Hawaiʻi’s Ancestral Roots.
Sources and further reading
Smithsonian Center for Folklife and Cultural Heritage. “The Art of Kapa: Roening Hufford on Reviving Hawaiian Barkcloth.” 2026. 🔗
Smithsonian Folklife Festival. “Kapa Pounding with Micah Kamohoali‘i: Preserving the Art of Hawaiian Bark Cloth.” 2023. 🔗
National Park Service. “Home: Kapa Beating at Haleakalā.” 2023. 🔗
Polar Gallery. “Reviving an Ancestral Hawaiian Tradition: Lehuauakea Reimagines Kapa in Bold Textile Works.” 2025. 🔗
Related reading on IslandHopperGuides
The History of Surfing: From Ancient Royalty to Modern Wave Riding — explores another Hawaiian practice that evolved from sacred tradition to global phenomenon.
Understanding the Role of Aliʻi: Chiefs in Hawaiian Traditions — provides context on the social hierarchy that shaped pre-contact Hawaiian life.
Beyond the Beach: Discovering the True Meaning of ʻOhana in Hawaiʻi — examines the kinship structures that underpin cultural transmission.
Slack Key Guitar: A Musical Journey Through Hawaiian History — another story of a Hawaiian tradition that survived and evolved.
Lei Day Celebration: A Vibrant Expression of Aloha and Hawaiian Culture — explores a related practice of adornment and cultural expression.
Hawaiian Petroglyphs: Capturing the Spirit of Ancient Traditions — another material record of Hawaiian ancestral knowledge.
Healing with Lomi Lomi: The Art of Hawaiian Massage Therapy — a practice that, like kapa, carries spiritual significance beyond its physical function.
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