When Queen Lili‘uokalani returned to Honolulu after a visit to Santa Barbara in the spring of 1910, she was greeted at the wharf by a mix of haole, hapa-haole and Native Hawaiian onlookers. As Lili‘uokalani stepped off the ship with her business manager Curtis Iaukea, she heard cries of “Alo-o-oha!” This gave the queen pause.

“I greet you,” Lili‘uokalani told the crowd, “with aloha. Aloha — that is the Hawaiian greeting.”

“Never say alo-o-oha. It is a haole word,” Lili‘uokalani’s hānai daughter Lydia Aholo recalled the queen saying on more than one occasion. “Aloha is ours, as is its meaning.”

Despite its ubiquitous and often commodified use, aloha is more than a casual greeting. It is a complex sentiment with profound meaning that represents love, peace, compassion, affection, and more. Aloha signifies connection. And with that, a commitment to Hawai‘i, the environment, and each other.

“[Aloha] is special because it upholds, reaffirms, and binds relationships,” writes scholar and historian Malcolm Nāea Chun in Aloha: Traditions of Love and Affection. “Aloha should not be taken lightly. It should not be used casually or frivolously.”

Which makes the decision to select Aloha — specifically ALOHA NŌ (with “nō” being an intensifier in Hawaiian similar to “very”) — as the theme and title of this year’s Hawai‘i Triennial particularly significant.

“ALOHA NŌ is a call to action, it is radical love and fierce refusal,” Hawai‘i Triennial 2025 co-curator Wassan Al-Khudhairi said in a February 2024 statement, after a nearly year-long research process. “We hope to share an exhibition that invites viewers to think with us — not only about how to better understand each other and the world we live in, but also to empower us to act and bring about positive change.”

Produced by Hawai‘i Contemporary, the Hawai‘i Triennial is the largest thematic exhibition of contemporary art in the state. What began as the Honolulu Biennial in 2017, which welcomed around 200,000 visitors from throughout the Pacific and abroad, has since grown into a dedicated contemporary arts platform that includes a curated international exhibition (the Hawai‘i Triennial) and complementary Art Summit every three years plus free, year-round public art programs.

From Feb. 15 to May 4, works by 49 artists and art collectives are on display at 13 sites across O‘ahu, Maui and Hawai‘i Island as part of Hawai‘i Triennial 2025 (HT25). This year’s theme, ALOHA NŌ, is a call to better “know” Hawai‘i through works that embrace humanity in all its complexities, and through a lens of compassion and care. The theme is also an attempt to unpack the many cultural layers of aloha and reclaim the term from its stereotypical use as a slogan for Hawai‘i.

“There was a real risk for us to have ‘aloha’ be our theme and in our title because there’s an incredible amount of responsibility,” says Rosina Potter, executive director of Hawai‘i Contemporary. “We looked it up and there are more than 4,600 businesses in Hawai‘i that start with ‘aloha’ in their name. When I used to work in hospitality, we were trained to say ‘aloha’ to every guest. ... Part of our intent is to have people experience this exhibition and reconsider their understanding of what ‘aloha’ means or can mean. Not only here in Hawai‘i but to the rest of the world.”

In order to inspire wider dialogues through a Pacific-centered viewpoint, HT2025 curators Wassan Al-Khudhairi, Binna Choi, and Noelle M.K.Y. Kahanu selected works by artists whose philosophies and practices have been shaped by a shared commitment to learning from their ancestors and the places they come from, in Hawai‘i or beyond.

Works such as Ia rā, ia rā (rere runga, rere raro) (“Every day [I fly high, I fly low]”) by Māori artist Shannon Te Ao, a multi video installation that depicts two men in motion (a response to brewing and erupting unrest in the world) and the tīwakawaka, a small fantail endemic to Aotearoa. With the ability to transport messages between the realms of birth and death, the tīwakawaka is linked to many Māori stories and the gods, particularly Māui.

An original song by composer Kurt Komene scores the video; Komene’s lyrics, like the flowing movements of the performers on screen, follow the tīwakawaka’s flight path and create an evocative sequence of transition and transformation. In a Māori worldview, Ka mua, ka muri — “we walk backwards into the future” — is a guiding proverb as time and the spiritual occupy a continuum where past, present and future coexist.

For Japanese artist Lieko Shiga, time is never settled: “Taking a photograph is making a space that is no-time — not the past, not the present, not the future.” Shiga moved to Kitakama, a coastal town in Japan in 2008. She was given the role of village photographer, where she documented village life along with her own art practice. After the 2011 earthquake, Kitakama was destroyed, and more than 50 villagers died in the resulting tsunami. Shiga focused on gathering, returning and preserving upwards of 30,000 photographs to the community as photos gradually washed up on shore.

Shiga’s series Rasen Kaigan (Spiral Shore) presents a mix of photographs taken in Kitakama before and after the disaster. Some images, caked in mud and salt, were recovered from the devastation and restored. Other images Shiga created in response to the tsunami, using surreal imagery and colored light filters to capture a community affected by tragedy. “The name Spiral Shore also refers to the spiral of our DNA. If we trace the spiral, we can encounter the lives of the people before and after our time.”

Coming to terms with trauma, identity, and exploring the space between language and lived experience is at the heart of Nanci Amaka’s work. Born and raised in a rural village in southeast Nigeria, Amaka now lives and works in Honolulu. Her 2017 performance Cleanse features the artist scrubbing down an abandoned structure set for demolition.

Created in response to the traumatic circumstances surrounding her mother’s death, Amaka’s fluid movements bring a sense of elegance and reverence to the physicality of emotional pain. “[Cleanse] is a silent moment of reflecting on all those that we have loved and lost. ... It is also a moment of recognizing our power to act lovingly even in the face of despair.”

“Too often, I think words like ‘contemporary art,’ or ‘triennial’ have the tendency to create environments that don’t feel inclusive. We want to provide opportunities for viewers to see themselves in the work, or their values reflected back to them through art,” Potter says. “My hope is that ALOHA NŌ inspires curiosity and encourages people to participate. It’s an invitation to visit and learn more.”

HT25 runs from February 15 through May 4.
Learn more at hawaiicontemporary.org.