Collecting Art

"The best advice I can give a collector is: develop your eye, and then buy with your heart - always, always with the heart."
Andre Emmerich (1924-2007), 2003

Simon Shepheard and the demolition of NZ landscape

We asked Simon Shepheard about the ideas behind Pimp My Planet on at the gallery until 4 October.

MNG: Visitors to the exhibition often ask where you get your materials?

SS: My immediate environment- Grey Lynn, Ponsonby. It lies on the verge outside half renovated villas, and as I go around on other business, I can't resist stacking the roof racks or loading the back of the wagon. I collect, sort, & store the materials to renovate my studio/house as well as build art.

MNG: Why make work from these kinds of materials?

SS: This country used to be a rainforest. Huge trees, often over 1000 years old pretty well covered the land coast to coast. Then it was mass-mangled into villas by our immediate ancestors, painted with generations of toxic colour, lashed by storms and blistered by the sun. And then thrown out onto the road. So the narrative's implicit, I'm just the editor.

MNG: You seem to like paua....

SS: Paua has a parallel tale. Its cultural relevance is cross-myriad. The radium powered gleam redeems the low caste context it is set into. I like to use it as a brush stroke of neon pigment.

MNG: Your work seems to think about our landscape tradition. Anything you want to say about that? Has your work always been about landscape?

SS: Yes. It's powerful subject matter and seems to emerge almost uninvited out of the blistered, peeling planks. NZ is not the centre of the post-modern world - its a big empty landscape on the edge of it. What is happening to the Amazon now, happened here a hundred years ago. In many ways Kiwis are the biggest polluters ever on earth, and yet we deceive the world into believing that we're exactly the opposite. Landscape glorification is our most dubious art. I think I'm having a poke at all that, but I also see the scapes struggle to survive as poignant, beautifully sad, and worth revealing.

MNG: What is it with the signs? What are they about?

SS: Of course they are a cheap metaphor! They mock real-estate or street signs - hacked and pilfered souvenirs from a sick future. They are a seductive warning pointing down the road to a beautiful death.

Green Ghost

I'm looking at Green Ghost (above) by Simon Shepheard. It's inlaid paua hole and tree stump glitter under the gallery lights. Nevermind the paua, the dead tree stump is such a familiar image, but not only that, it has a history in New Zealand art. Simon talks about referencing Dick Frizzell but Frizzell was certainly sending up a whole tree stump tradition. The Dead Tree Theme in New Zealand art lives on.

Life Signs

Sign posts are something of a theme throughout Simon Shepheard's work, and Pimp My Planet includes one of his landscape signs, Man Grooves (top). Sign 2006 (bottom) was featured in a previous exhibition Another Pretty Ugly Collection. These 'signs' contain their own subtle scapes, and contain histories of the landscape in their materials. They point at places longingly.

Monet at the Dump

Pimp My Planet new work by Simon Shepheard opened last night at the Gallery. Above is "Landscrape" 2007-08 from the exhibition. With it's Water-Lily Pond colours, Shepheard seems to be making art from the scrap heap of Modernism. He's using the leftovers of the twentieth century, its floor boards and weatherboards stained with age and degraded paint, to make hazy references to New Zealand's pristine landscape tradition.

General Assembly by Fiona Jack

Welcome to the Mary Newton Gallery blog.

It's the second to last day of Fiona Jack's exhibition General Assembly, and the wall where visitors are encouraged to write up an article from the UN Declaration of Indigenous Rights is covered in a chorus of handwritten articles. I asked Fiona some questions about the installation.

MNG: Why the UN Declaration of Indigenous Rights?
FJ: Because it’s a very significant document that disappeared beneath the radar in Aotearoa. Very few people I have told about it had heard about it previously – it was clearly not discussed widely in the media at all. I was not in NZ at the time, but I am assuming that was the case, and also I can find little press about it retrospectively. Also, the final paragraph of our official statement on the declaration says “...we must therefore disassociate entirely from this text” which I believe is a mistake. Perhaps some people believe that it is legally too complicated to sign this declaration (although UN declarations are never legally binding – they are “aspirational” documents), however regardless of our position this document is for the rights of over 350 million indigenous peoples worldwide. No-one in the world can or should “disassociate” with this document. Maybe we can find complications, or debate it, or question parts, but disassociating is very problematic, and this is what we have done.

MNG: How did you interest people initially in copying out the aspirational paragraphs?
FJ: I just asked – everyone I approached was more than willing when I told them what it was.

MNG: What were you hoping for in encouraging visitors to the exhibition to copy out the articles?
FJ: By writing something out we engage more directly in a text. Also people go through the process of choosing a paragraph, which also forms a connection with the text. Then.. the outcome which is a wall filled with many many handwriting styles reflects the many voices who support this document. I guess in a way that wall will say “our government doesn’t support this document but we do”. In a way we are all signing our names to it in the absence of our government’s signature.

MNG: Anything you want to say about relational aesthetics?
FJ: Well, in so far as participation is always a part of political debate. Relational aesthetics is all about participation - creating situations for people to engage with a scenario that proposes social outcomes that in many cases lead to a political comment and/or involvement. I am perhaps less interested in framing it specifically under that discourse rather than as aligned to a number of conversations – art and politics, the situationists, graffiti, post-colonial theory, and in New Zealand specifically I am interested in Tino Rangitiratanga and how self-determination and art can manifest in our communities.

MNG: You've described your work as 'intervention into foreign policy'? Have I got that right? Want to elucidate?
FJ: I don’t know that I said that, did I? I mentioned a conference at Otago University titled “Power to the People, Public Participation in Foreign Policy”. I didn’t go to it, but it looked really interesting. But as we know, public intervention can change policy at all levels. We have learnt that over and over again, but we just need enough awareness and action on an issue in order to provoke change.

MNG: You have used a similar colour palette on a number of occasions. Anything to tell there?
FJ: Umm, not...not really. It’s just what I’m always drawn to. No conceptual choice here in relation to the content. Sometimes my colour palette is determined by the content of the show, other times not so much.

MNG: How was your work about the Melbourne's taxi community received (at RMIT's gallery)?
FJ: Not sure.... seemed ok. You’d have to ask some Melbournians. The taxi community welcomed my presence and were very willing to talk, and to be heard. Only one taxi driver came to the exhibition, but even that was great to me!