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Painting in New Zealand

Hamish Keith

If it were possible to ignore the present political and emotional background to the visual arts in this country, their growth and development over the past four years could provoke a considerable amount of optimism. Current international trends, which must be presumed to have some correspondence with current needs, arc beginning to favour those things which might truly be regarded as being indigenous to New Zealand painting. Insistence on the unequivocal image impatience with romantic aesthetic refinements a dogmatic assertion that painting is a direct kind of communication are the hopeful principles of the international style of the past four years. These are after all, elements present in the best of this country's painting since Colin McCahon's religious works of 1947.

There is a kind of Parkinson's Law of art which seems to operate in the growth period of any society; the more painters there are the more painters there are. Thus in the bleak years of the forties in the avant garde here can really only boast of two major painters. McCahon and Toss Woollaston. In the following 10 years the two have become five from 1960 to 1962 the five 10. and in 1964 we have at least 20 painters and sculptors worth taking very seriously Indeed. Almost in spite of themselves the two Art Schools are turning out two or three promising painters a year in contrast to their previous output of one every two or three years.

Along with this enormous Increase in artists, there has been, at least in Auckland, a steady improvement in their economic situation. That ambiguous blessing the dealer, has appeared on the scene. In Auckland the activity of at least two serious professional dealers has put more money in the artist's pocket in four years than the combined New Zealand purchases of the public galleries has in 20. While it is still practically impossible for the serious contemporary artist to live by his painting or sculpture alone, he can at least look forward to increasing returns for his labours. Public patronage for painting is still as grim as ever, but the sculptors have been receiving an increasing number of substantial commissions.

The effects of the general situation the lessening of individual isolation, and at least some measure of financial reward, has been marked in a quite material way; sizes and prices have increased. It is not necessary to be an art historian to date works of the past six years; since 1958. with a few exceptions, paintings have steadily Increased in size, and sculpture has moved from wood and plaster to concrete and bronze. Relations between artists have also improved; there is a greater tolerance for parallel directions, and the petty squabbles and factions that used to mar New Zealand's artistic climate have begun to disappear In Auckland a short time ago, the serious exhibiting painters met together, not as in the past to found a society or set up a committee, but merely to discuss ways of improving their public image as professionals.

One would expect, on this evidence, a great deal of optimism among the artists. It is true that some of the younger painters are excited about the developing situation but among others there is a general air of gloom and despair. No matter how much their painting is committed to this country—in fact, in some cases. Pat Hanly's "Figures in Light" and Don Binney's "Birds" for instance, it would be practically impossible for them to paint as they do in any other environment—they still regard this place as an artistic desert and a trap.

The great exodus of painters, begun at the turn of the century, has never let up: when they can the painters leave. By this December New Zealand will have lost, in 12 months alone, no less than eight exhibiting artists. Some of these were developing talents, but many of them, like Nelson Kenny, Graham Percy, Bryan Dew, Tim Garrity, and Greer Twiss, are almost indispensable. Some of these will, of course, return—perhaps like Hanly, better for the experience, but almost without exception, bitter about the circumstances that compel them to be New Zealanders.

In many ways this is not hard to understand, the general apathy and philistinism that confronts the artist on all sides is a difficult pill to swallow, and who can blame an artist for being bitter about a society that virtually forces him to live any real life in secret.

The fact that any New Zealander connected with the arts is automatically assumed to have inferior status to the latest pundit from abroad, is also galling. This is no place for a catalogue of public insults offered New Zealand talent; it would make a long and unpleasant list; it is sufficient to point out that if by some chance a New Zealander is to be found in some responsible administrative position connected with the arts, he will be some generations removed from us. In short, those responsible for the public administration of the visual arts in New Zealand are either old men or overseas experts. Of course, one does not wish to Imply that these persons are inevitably incompetent—many of them are; to some of them, however, we are greatly indebted. It is nonetheless a fact that almost without exception they are out of touch—the old men because they are old men, and the overseas experts because they are overseas experts.

The remoteness of one part of a process from another is of course, the classic New Zealand situation. Although a great deal has been said and written about the effects of this country's geographical isolation on its social patterns, the unpleasant fact of Its internal segmentation has generally passed without notice. In the visual arts this, more than anything else, has produced many of the desperate misunderstandings that leave the best artists in the desert waiting for the next boat out, while the noisy second-rate is elevated to public glory. One example of this will suffice: while New Zealand's first major international exhibition of contemporary painters left for Tokyo completely unheralded, a dreary collection of Kelliher prizewinners, arranged by the Tourist Department to show Asia what we really look like, made front-page news in at least three major papers.

Another factor is quite simply, the centralisation of patronage in Wellington and painting and sculpture in Auckland. Apart from the political set-up New Zealand painting needs to be taken a great deal more seriously than it is. It is common-place to assume that painting here, because of our population because of our youth and because it is done by New Zealanders, is necessarily pedestrian and provincial. Fortunately this is not the case; as mentioned earlier, the international style is now moving in what has always been our direction, and Indigenous painting and sculpture has a great deal more authority than one would imagine. This is confirmed by the interest being taken in New Zealand painting and sculpture by Australian dealers.

There is every reason to believe that the visual arts in New Zealand are flourishing and might soon come to full flower, if the painters and patrons would treat themselves to a short session on the couch. The painters must realise that retreat merely encourages their worst enemies to fill the gap. After all, the culture-crats cannot survive with the support of serious artists and the artists need only reflect to make themselves felt.

As for the rest of us, it is sobering but true that the painting and sculpture produced here, is the only painting and sculpture directly answering our needs, and the best of that is the best we have. It has no opportunity to get better without our use and belief.