When you bought your coffee from your local cafe this morning, what were you thinking about? You were probably thinking about the fact that the barista said your name wrong (again), or perhaps you were deciding which urgent call you would fake in order to escape some impending meeting. You definitely weren’t thinking about the cup that was holding your early caffeine kick, a robust, sturdy, familiar vessel, and these days, most likely made from plants. Yes, plants.

Food packaging has had a severe overhaul of late and it’s all down to one name: Ecoware. Eradicating oil-based plastic packaging with its range of sustainable corn or bamboo based alternatives, Ecoware has become the brand on the lips of every food business, whether that’s supermarkets, food trucks or airlines. And while the brand itself might be on the verge of household recognition, there are two people, Alex Magaraggia and James Calver, the childhood friends behind the operation, that should be receiving similar acknowledgement.

It was during university when Calver describes stumbling across his first major eureka moment. He was in the midst of a business degree, and as part of his event management placement, was expected to look after the waste disposal situation at one of Sanitarium’s Weet-Bix Kids TRYathlons. At some point during the event, he came to realise that both the recycling and landfill bins on site connected at the back, into one, singular bin. And although it was a moment that sparked within him a rage against the plastic industry, he still didn’t understand the gravity of the situation until shortly after, when he was surfing in the Mentawai Islands in North Sumatra. Ravaging what he describes as, “a remote paradise,” was tonnes and tonnes of plastic, swarming the once peaceful and ethereal atolls. “This made me realise that the problem with plastic was really, really big,” he explains, and he’s right. 

Around 252,000 tonnes of plastic heads to our landfills every year, 252,000 tonnes of material that will take over 400 years to degrade — and even then it will never fully disappear, but merely disintegrate into smaller and smaller pieces. The situation is dire indeed, and after Calver relayed the story to Magaraggia, they felt compelled to act. It was here that the ball began rolling on an idea that would change the course of both of their careers, and lives, for good. 

The concept was simple. As opposed to the linear system of plastic — where products are made and, even if they are recycled, still end up in landfill — they would instead create packaging with a more circular ethos. Namely, compostable products crafted from plants that would biodegrade and, essentially, return to the earth from which they came. The idea wasn’t rocket science, Calver explains, but it was so alien to businesses at the time that “it sounded too good to be true.” And so for the next two to three years the young duo — then in their early 20s — created a number of teaching programmes to educate and inform businesses, not only on their products but on the growing issue of landfill. Striving to be taken seriously, Magaraggia describes these early years as comprising nothing but “hard work and persistence.”

It was coffee companies that were the first to start taking the pair’s message seriously. Described by Magaraggia as “young, vibrant and casual,” the coffee industry was very much like them, and as such allowed meaningful long-term relationships to be forged. From there, success ballooned. All they had to do was get one industry on side, and the rest would succumb to their proposal like a row of toppling dominoes. In 2018 alone, Ecoware replaced approximately 750,000 kilograms of packaging made from oil and now, its wares — whether produce containers, bowls, cutlery or coffee cups — can be found in a wide range of commercial businesses as far reaching as stadiums, hotels, food trucks and juice bars. 

I ask if they can spill the beans on any juggernaut businesses they are working with, and, for a brief moment, I am met with silence. Throughout our interview, it became apparent to me how the pair — friends since the age of five — are cut from the same cloth in terms of ideals, yet still, they boast differences that ensure a balance of personalities. When answering my questions, Calver would speak honestly and openly, letting the sentences roll off his tongue without pause for thought. Magaraggia was more carefully constructed: as though many more decisions were required before he could convert his thoughts into words. Their manners were contrasting, but it meant that at no point during the interview I was met with no answer at all, until now. “That’s a tough one,” Magaraggia replied after a few moments. “It’s not that we can’t name names, because we do work with a few big market leaders in different areas, but to just name a few would be an injustice to the others.” “We try to avoid that question,” Calver chimed in, agreeing that, while they have the big names on board, “we wouldn’t want to do a disservice to the smaller, lesser known brands that got us to where we are today.”

That said, it would be remiss to not mention one or two of the bigger entities Ecoware now supplies. Partnerships with the likes of Auckland entertainment powerhouse SKYCITY, supermarket giant New World and Air New Zealand have seen a serious overhaul of large-scale, waste management systems and have given the brand exposure that has been far-reaching and meaningful.

Anyone in Calver and Magaraggia’s position could be forgiven for name dropping. It is, of course, how a lot of people in this industry — or any industry for that matter — get ahead. But that approach just isn’t part of the pair’s modus operandi. In fact, this is just one of many examples of their genuine nature and propensity to be modest that I’m presented with throughout our interview. Both down to earth and incredibly approachable, it is easy to see how their leadership would have been a defining factor when it came to Ecoware standing out against the rest, something Magaraggia describes simply as “a Kiwi attitude to business.”

The same goes for their commitment to educating others about their message. They are an intelligent, articulate duo — undoubtedly — but they never slip into condescending tones when asked to explain intricate concepts to novices like me. Even when they outline the current state of recycling — how it used to be an efficient municipal system until China, the place we were shipping all our recycling to, banned the import of most plastics — they speak in layman’s terms without being patronising. They educate without being righteous. “We’re not preachy,” explains Magaraggia, saying that, when it comes to recycling and the such, “nobody likes to be told that what they’re doing is wrong. It’s not part of our business — we could have potentially got more sales that way — but it’s just not us.” 

Ecoware, it seems, is far more than just a packaging company, and Calver and Magaraggia are far more than just business-minded co-founders. They serve as teachers, environmentalists, friends, aids, supporters and so much more. So perhaps next time, when you are waiting for your daily flat white, you should take a moment to think more about the process behind the packaging you are about to hold and — perhaps most importantly of all — the forward-thinking, innovative, and humble people behind it who are, in the name of the environment, striving to deliver palpable change for the sake of all of our futures.

To learn more about Magaraggia and Calver’s inspiring story, pick up a copy of the winter issue of Denizen magazine, out now, or click here to subscribe.

I first encountered Paul Baragwanath on the eve of Anzac Day, on a crisp, autumn evening outside the St David’s Memorial Church in Grafton. It was the night of his anticipated Art of Remembrance event and as I arrived — admittedly, a few minutes late — the bundled up crowd had already taken their seats, the excitable hubbub simmering into a hushed, eager silence. Baragwanath, making his way to the makeshift stage, dished out welcoming smiles and chirpy greetings to generations old and young, friends old and new, and complete strangers too, like me. He emanated a sincere warmth more expected from an old chum than a host, something I would soon understand to be one of his most prominent traits. While an art consultant by day, Baragwanath was here on this evening under the guise of project director to deliver the latest instalment of his Art of Remembrance project, now in its fifth year.

As I quietly observed the evening’s tributes to those lost during WWI, often tuning into snippets of conversations that circled me, I noticed how men and women across a spectrum of ages, races, backgrounds and religions were interacting and coming together to discuss one single commonality. It was that evening, two days before my interview with Baragwanath was to take place, that I realised the enormity of the Art of Remembrance project: not only does it invite us to remember those fallen during the great wars, but in doing so it continues to bring people together in ways that they might never have been brought together before.

It was back in 2015 that Baragwanath’s Art of Remembrance project first came to light, via a soul-stirring exhibition that captured imaginations throughout New Zealand and beyond. For three months from Anzac day that year, more than 7,000 pure brass, glistening artworks blanketed the Church of St David’s. Each an individually produced Max Gimblett quatrefoil the size of a soldier’s hand, designed to honour those who served in the First World War. After the three month display, the brass quatrefoils were sold and the profits were used to save St David’s Memorial Church during a time when it was at risk of demolition. With a grand total of one million dollars raised — the largest sum of money raised through an art fundraising project in the history of the country by a very, very long margin — the Art of Remembrance project cemented itself firmly in the history books and the hearts of many.

It was an incredible triumph, but one that may not have occurred at all if it wasn’t for an unexpected visit to the church over a year earlier. “I was driving past St David’s when something told me to turn around,” Baragwanath tells me, explaining how his job as an art consultant and his nature to be so easily “affected by space, arts and architecture” led to him being immeasurably moved by the place. So much so, in fact, that when he entered and realised, from talking to the minister, that the great building of national significance was soon to be demolished, he was heartbroken. “I was shocked,” he discloses, relaying the moment where, upon hearing the news, tears projected from his eyes with such velocity that they hit the polished lenses of his trademark thick-rimmed glasses.

It was this emotional moment that lit a flame of passion within Baragwanath that has been burning brightly ever since. After setting up the Friends of St David’s Trust shortly after and only managing to raise $200 in a year, with no heritage protection and millions needed for restoration, demolition seemed inevitable. But the new year brought a gift for Paul: a ceramic poppy from the Blood Swept Tears and Seas of Red exhibition at the Tower of London. With this gift in hand, and artist Max Gimblett’s offer to ‘help in any way I can’, Baragwanath saw it clearly: St David’s would be adorned in a cape of golden, Gimblett quatrefoils, each the size of a soldiers’ hand outstretched. In the centenary of WWI, it would be New Zealand’s artwork of remembrance and it would put St David’s back on the map. Facing demolition in the eye, Baragwanath had just a matter of weeks to develop the artworks, fix them onto a historic building, create a story and online platform to share the project and then sell the artworks to raise the funds. These weeks contained “some of the busiest days” of Baragwanath’s life, and perhaps the most challenging, too. In fact, if it wasn’t for the sizeable swarm of volunteers who felt compelled to help him on his journey, it was a vision that may never have come to fruition at all.

“That’s the biggest part of this story,” he says, explaining how, the entire way, “people had stepped up bravely and selflessly” to enable the project to continue. He goes on to tell of how, after bringing the quatrefoils down from the church, volunteers spent months tirelessly soaking and scrubbing them so that they would be ready to be sold. One woman, described by Baragwanath as simply “incredible” worked 12-15 hour days until her hands were sore and bleeding. He remarks how his mum, trying to help wherever possible, cooked around 2,000 lunches and dinners for the hungry and exhausted volunteers. He names the businesses and companies that offered their services free of charge, almost too many to count. While it’s clear to me that it was Baragwanath’s unwavering determination, unprecedented compassion and joyous personality that inspired so many people to offer a helping hand, as far as Baragwanath himself is concerned, it was down to nothing more than a love of art. 

“The project caught people’s imagination,” he says, telling me about his Art of Remembrance journey with a steady, storyteller’s knack. It’s when the topic of art comes up, however, that a fever of enthusiasm ensues. He tears away from the conversation and begins passionate prose on the topic, giving us a glimpse into his wildly creative mind while doing so. “Art can transform how we feel and how we see the world,” he explains. “It can lift our consciousness, generate empathy and understanding. It can bring us into the present moment, to remind us we are alive and life is beautiful.”

If it weren’t for these energetic tangents it would be easy to forget that Baragwanath, first and foremost, is an art consultant. Widely respected in his industry for over 20 years, The Art of Remembrance is merely a side project, one he had to take a year off — unpaid — to pursue. Since then he has devoted about a third of each of the subsequent years to its continuity. Last year, for example, Baragwanath created The Art of Remembrance: Southern Star Te Tonga Whetu o te Rangi. On the eve of Anzac day 2018, a three-part film was projected onto the beautiful brick facade of St David’s Church. For four days the film and soundscape ran, incorporating historical footage and digital animation, including 100,000 stars which represented the individuals who left New Zealand to take part in the war. This year, the night sky on Anzac Eve was filled with The Sound of Peace, a soundscape artwork that commemorated the lives taken by World War One in a different way, and one that also responded to the losses suffered during the devastating Christchurch massacre. The sublime piece of art, choreographed by artist Jeff Smith, featured voices of all ages, backgrounds, and nationalities, each delivering their own personal message of peace.

Recently, around five years after Baragwanath drove down Khyber Pass and learned of St David’s pending destruction, the Church was listed as a Category A Historic Heritage Place. Thanks to Paul’s hard work and perseverance, the memorial church is now wholly protected, recognised for its exceptional overall heritage significance to the Auckland region and beyond. An incredible feat, undoubtedly, and something that Paul himself describes as “nigh on a miracle.”

As I sat there on that crisp autumn evening, I remember thinking about how much the entire event had moved me. It was more than I would have expected. As someone who is quite removed from war in the grand scheme of things, I couldn’t help but wonder how Baragwanath’s work would have affected those more deeply connected to experiences of war. I didn’t have to wonder for long. As I was in the midst of wrapping up my interview with Baragwanath, two days after the Anzac Eve event, he received an email from a member of the New Zealand Defence Force — Major Nick Jones. The email congratulated Baragwanath on such a wonderful event, before going on to explain how much it meant to both him and his mother, who had attended. It was a poignant reminder that Baragwanath’s project — despite starting over three years ago — is something that still continues to uplift the souls of many today and will do so, no doubt, for evermore.

To learn more about Paul Baragwanath’s Art of Remembrance project and heart-warming story, pick up a copy of the winter issue of Denizen magazine, out now. Or click here, to subscribe.