Kia whakatōmuri te haere whakamua.
’I walk backwards into the future with my eyes fixed on my past.’
Between December 2023 and April 2024 the Golden Bay Museum | Waka Huia o Mohua curated the exhibition ‘kātoitoi | response’ an invitation to local artists to respond to iconic artworks or artists representing or referencing Golden Bay | Mohua.
At the time I had the opportunity to chat with Robin Slow, one of the contributing artists about his take on the underlying theme of the exhibition.
Robin was born in Wairua, Blenhiem in 1948, in the article ‘The Artist Painting The Stories of the Land’, Nina Hindmarch writes:
“It all began at primary school in Wairau... Slow says.
“We would have these special days when an art teacher would come in. They had all their paints and everything out. We were so used to sitting in rows of chairs, but we moved all this and got right into it.”
One of the visiting teachers told them a Māori story about the beginning of carving.
“Off we went and painted this whole story and I remember being so excited, taking it home and plastering it on the wall for ages. I had this very strong, powerful, inward response to that lesson.”
It wasn’t until a year later that Slow realised the teacher was the renowned carver Cliff Whiting.”
Robin later moved to Christchurch where “while working as a commercial artist to support himself, he completed his Diploma of Teaching with an art major at Christchurch Teachers' College.” (Robin Slow, Wikipedia) A number of the iconic artists referenced in the museums exhibition were part of The Group a Christchurch based artist collective. Quentin McFarlain and John Coley both of whom were active in The Group were lecturers of Robin, “in many ways they were who I pushed against not in a derisive way but rather not wanting to follow their pathway - both saying narrative was irrelevant.” In correspondence Robin mentions Cath Brown an artist he held in high regard and worked with on occasion “who demonstrated the opposite.”
In the early 1980’s Robin began a two year contract at Golden Bay High School, but ends up teaching there for 31 years before retiring in 2013.
10 years on I find myself standing in a studio surrounded by the creations of a prolific and significant Ngā Toi artist, quickly realising Robin is more than an artist he is also a map maker weaving threads of significance beyond the two dimensions of the canvas he works upon.
Our conversation has moved beyond an initial tension as a direct enquiry of intention is navigated from the heart and the seat of our interaction moves from story to the energetics of the collective space.
Robin shares his history with the local high school, from the initial resistance to incorporating cultural elements such as kōwhaiwhai into his art classes to securing a collection of nationally significant artworks for the school. The conversation then broadens to his relationship with and contribution in service to the whenua, tangata whenua and Onetahua Marae.
As Robin humbly describes holding a wānanga for rangatahi on a local marae site and the space he and his partner Rose held in the building of Onetahua Marae, I begin to realise I am being gifted the story of a renaissance in Mohua and an understanding of why this kaumātua is referred to as a taonga in his own right.
As we sit down to a cuppa tea and a biscuit Robin begins listing artists who have had a relationship with the region. With little personal knowledge of the visual arts I dutifully write down their names recognising a few - Colin McCahon, Doris Lusk - whose work I have seen in regional galleries.
Robin begins relating his relationship with these artists back to his time as a teacher where he was looking for artwork to share with his students. Artwork that anchored the discourse in this place “what was and what is, a sense of the whenua” says Robin, while instilling the importance of referencing those who inspire and influence us on our artist journey.
“Some you reference, some you react to, some you react against.” (Robin Slow)
For Robin these artists re-presented the surface (the physical) and reflected on the region through their own cultural lens and emotional experiences. For example:
Colin McCahon wrote of ‘Tākaka: Night and Day’ (1948) “...it states my interest in landscape as a symbol of place and also of the human condition. It is not so much a portrait of a place as such but is a memory of a time and an experience of a particular place.” (Source)
Leo Bensemann who was born in the Bay wrote of ‘Arrival at Wharariki’ (1989) “...[as an old pupil, the school wrote to me asking] if I’d be good enough to sell them one of my Tākaka landscapes with which to start a NZ collection. I was quite touched and... presented them with this painting — a painting, I may say, that gave me immense pleasure and satisfaction to work on. You will probably know the brooding, sphinx-like rock that squats in the sea at Wharariki — the ghostly ship is of course Tasman’s ‘Heemskerck’ bringing enlightenment to a dark, savage land — ha! Both the painting and the symbolism have been a great success in the school and town.” (Source)
Felicity Milburn writes of Doris Lush’s many paintings of Onekaka Wharf, “One subject... held a special resonance. After encountering the derelict wharf at Onekaka Beach in Golden Bay in 1965, Lusk returned there frequently throughout her life, painting it from all angles and in a range of light and tidal conditions. When she died, left unfinished on her easel was a portrait of herself as an older woman in the place she once described as her spiritual home.”
I did not get a sense that Robin is diminishing their artistry but rather using contrast to explain how this differs from a Māori world view. From his experience the art world tends to be more about colour and form, for Māori it is about the narrative behind the narrative.
For Robin these artists “used motif’s that are outside of the whenua”, world views that reflected where they were at.
To explain further, Robin shares the story of someone walking along the beach at a river mouth reaching down to pick up a stone that catches their eye, its colour, its form...
“...for a kuia, picking up the same stone will bring tears to her eyes because she knows the narrative behind its journey to the river mouth”.
Robin’s message to his students (and at this point of which I include myself) is the importance of art to reference back to a discourse.
“Artwork is a commodity not a taonga.” (Robin Slow)
On his journey to find visual references Robin was fortunate to have been shown, by the late Dr Maui John Mitchell, a photographic print of an upturned waka sketched by Robert Codrington in Tākaka, Nov 1860 (For more information click here).
The original bound sketchbook has now been donated to the Nelson Provincial Museum.
“[This] drawing is a 'drawing' but in itself gives importance to the Ngā Toi within the rohe at the time. It was the marker to the death of a rangatira who lived at Motupipi. It showed the development of kōwhaiwhai into using a figurative form and has been recorded as one of the first samples of the development. Work such as this flowed on to the development of the painted houses.... these are models and references that are still of considerable mana.”
(From correspondence with Robin Slow, Sept 2024)
The majority of Codrington’s sketches are of Māori whenua in Mohua.
It is while I sit here reading over my notes, doing the research needed for this article and reflecting on the time I spent with Robin that the multiple threads of our conversation begin to crystalise - a glimpse into another's world view.
For Māori there is an awareness of the ‘unseen’ aspects of the land, the energies that flow through it and over it including the connections between places and people as they in themselves are of the land. From a Māori world view we are diminished without the recognition of whenua as the ‘source’ on numerous levels from the material through the creative to the spiritual.
From Robin's perspective kōwhaiwhai are a language in their own right, communicating identity - within each example a unique story, style and use to Iwi. With the oldest records of kōwhaiwhai being on hoe (paddles) they have a connection with water only the way Robin refers to them the connection is deeper...
“Artists want to communicate.” (Robin Slow)
It feels as if having a glimpse backward through Codrington’s sketches Robin is provided with a portal through which to glimpse the identity and stories of those who lived and breathed a deep connection to this whenua, and on some level that connection deepens his connection which in turn informs and is communicated through his art. A number of times now Robin has said “present and past are always with us, we walk backwards into the future.”
Several hours have gone by and Rose has now entered from a day in the garden to begin preparation for the evening meal breaking the spell of the afternoons conversation. I thank Robin for his generosity of time and knowledge not knowing the depth of his words but feeling I’ve been gifted something sacred. As we make noises about what is next in our day Robin has one last message for me “Do you know what whakataukī are?” “No?” “They are often Iwi specific references... proverbs... but more than that... unknown in origin... old saying... signs of wisdom...”
Kia whakatōmuri te haere whakamua.
’I walk backwards into the future with my eyes fixed on my past.’
“When preparing for the exhibition I wanted to show that the recognised artists of Mohua went beyond the McCahons' and Lusks', and that there was a different perspective that had been there unrecognised. They need to be brought into the light. Māori art [Ngā Toi] has for too long been relegated to the 'museums' as artefacts not as living, relevant works of art.
The McCahon reference was used because of the composition and in particular the red down the centre of his work being blood. This I related to as the kōkōwai - the sacred red stone from Papa and Rangi. His work was interpreted through a Māori lens, or rather my Māori lens.”
(From correspondence with Robin Slow, Sept 2024)
コメント