Wikitoria Lewer. Photo: Shepherdess / Vivian Gehrmann
For Wikitoria Lewer (Ngāti Maniapoto), candle making is a personal journey of whānau, loss and reclamation. Through her candles, she honours her whakapapa. She speaks to writer Anna Brankin (Kāi Tahu, Kāti Māmoe) and photographer Vivian Gehrmann of Shepherdess magazine.
Born and raised in the King Country town of Te Kūiti, Wikitoria Lewer, 53, grew up in a small, close-knit whānau.
"It was just my brother, Sean, and me, and our parents, Jonna and Michael," she says. "I didn't realise it at the time but, looking back, I can see how blessed we were. It was a very loving and nurturing household."
Losing both parents to cancer - her mother in 2006, her father in 2018 - left an immense void in her life.
"I was thirty-four when Mum died, which is a really hard time to be without your mum," Lewer says. "And it was even harder when I had my first baby a few years later. I really missed having her influence then."
Raising three sons - Rereahu, 15, Eraia, 13, and Marino, 10 - has brought Lewer immense joy, as well as the challenge that will resonate with many women of losing her identity amid the chaos of whānau life.
"I think any mum will understand that reality. You're so busy with the kids that you sort of lose yourself, don't you?"
Wikitoria and her sons. Photo: Shepherdess / Vivian Gehrmann
After the birth of her youngest son, Lewer was determined to reclaim her identity but wasn't sure where to start. A chance visit to a women's expo led her to a stall selling handmade candles, sparking an unexpected new path.
"I stood there forever, thinking, 'Oh man, that's so cool,'" Lewer recalls. "I bought myself a tiny one, thinking that I should be spending the money on nappies instead. But for once, I decided to treat myself."
That small act of self-care ignited her curiosity about the candle-making process. Lewer bought a small kit and started experimenting.
Wikitoria Lewer. Photo: Shepherdess / Vivian Gehrmann
"I had always loved candles, the atmosphere they bring and the ritual of lighting them," she says. "A tiny gesture can transform an ordinary moment into something special."
Making candles herself was something else altogether. Lewer quickly realised this was more than just a hobby. It became a way to process grief, to carve out space for herself, and to reconnect with who she was beyond motherhood.
"I loved the creative outlet and it gave me a sense of peace," Lewer says. "A lot of my healing started with candle making. I could shut out the noise of the world and just be with my thoughts."
As she poured wax and mixed scents, Lewer often found herself reflecting.
"I'd think, 'How does this make me feel? What is this bringing up?' By the time I'd finish a candle, I'd have processed something I didn't even realise I was holding onto."
Drawn to keep making candles, Lewer says she ended up with so many that her whole house was lit up like a Christmas tree. She began gifting them to friends and selling them at local markets, tamariki in tow.
Life continued to evolve. She met her partner, Rangi, who encouraged her to pursue her passion.
"He told me, 'The happiest I see you is when you're creating, but you're just dabbling. You should do this properly.' So I did. And I haven't looked back."
Rangi helps with the narrative and cultural aspect behind the candles, and his influence has also helped Lewer reconnect with her whakapapa.
"I did feel a bit disconnected after losing Mum at such a young age, as well as my grandfather, who had been a big cultural influence. Sometimes it felt easier to stay away," she says. "In the past five years, I've fallen back in love with Te Kūiti. I go home all the time, to see my whānau, hear stories about my mum and grandparents. It's all about connection."
Connection became a big part of her thinking when she started planning for Wiks Candles.
"I wanted our candles to tell a story and to be different from anything else on the market," Lewer says. "There are so many narratives within Māori culture around fire, and that's the path I ended up following."
Wiks Candles. Photo: Shepherdess / Vivian Gehrmann
One candle, which she named Mōmotu Ahi, was inspired by the tradition of carrying embers from the home fire when moving to a new place.
"Our ancestors would blow on the embers, reigniting the flame and lighting a new fire that was connected to where they had come from," Lewer explains. "The idea is that it connects you back to your own home fire - whatever that means to you."
Recently, a woman asked for the lid of a Mōmotu Ahi candle to be engraved with the name of a lost loved one.
"When I handed it over, she stood there surrounded by her whānau, and I could see they were all overcome with emotion," Lewer says.
"She said, 'I didn't have a way to celebrate or remember him, and this is perfect.' It was so powerful to realise the impact my candles can have for people. That's what I love most."
This experience was particularly moving for Lewer, as she reflects on her own journey with grief.
"When you lose someone really significant in your life, the sadness is always there," she says. "It never goes away completely, but now I can look back and focus more on the beautiful memories that we had together."
Lewer knows her parents would be proud of her for "taking a gamble" and pursuing her passion.
"I can still hear my mum's voice saying, 'All we want is for you to be happy'. And Dad always used to say, 'If you're gonna do something, bloody do it properly'. Hopefully I'm living up to both of those things," she says. "There's definitely a part of me that so wishes they could be here to see what I've managed to achieve, but in my own way I know that they are. I find a lot of solace in that."
Lewer brings that depth and intentionality to everything she does, describing the process of creating her candles as just as important as the final product. "Sometimes I daydream about who will end up with the candle as I'm pouring it. I hope it brings them joy, comfort or connection. Every candle I make has a little bit of me in it."
Through wax and flame, Lewer isn't just making candles - she's preserving memories, building connections, and keeping the home fires burning for whānau near and far.
This story appears in the Takurua Winter Edition 2025 of Shepherdess magazine.
