New film reimagines controversial artist Theo Schoon
Theo Schoon was described as racist at a 2019 exhibition but Luit Beiringa is urging people to reconsider the artist’s relationship with Māori.
The artist Theo Schoon was once quoted as saying: ‘‘To hell with making art. What you do is experiment. What that experiment leads to is quite inconsequential. The only thing it leads to is knowledge.’’
According to a biography by Damian Skinner, the Indonesian-born Dutch national arrived in Christchurch – a conservative, mid-century community – in his early 20s in 1939, appreciating the indigenous culture more than the trappings of his Dutch colonial upbringing.
At the time, modernism was emerging in Aotearoa and Schoon had been trained in art in Europe, so he had first-hand experience of the Bauhaus movement.
He pursued indigenous art forms including Mā ori rock drawings, koru and kowhaiwhai, preserving historical cave paintings, gourd growing and carving, Mā ori moko, abstract patterns of geothermal activity in Rotorua, and pounamu carving.
While he did not sit still creatively – constantly moving from one project to another – his work has attracted controversy since his death in 1985.
Various critics have described him and his work as problematic, racist and controversial.
Schoon’s appropriation of Mā ori art and relationship with Mā ori is being re-examined in a new film, premiering as part of the New Zealand International Film Festival, by art historian and filmmaker Luit Beiringa, who was a longtime acquaintance of Schoon.
The film features digitised archival footage from television, radio and National Film Unit sources, and letters Schoon wrote throughout his life. Beiringa said Schoon was a ‘‘prolific’’ letterwriter and in honour of that, the film was called Signed, Theo Schoon.
In New Zealand, Schoon crossed paths with the lives of Colin McCahon, Rita Angus, Len Castle and Gordon Walters, but possibly his most powerful encounters were with Mā ori culture, Beiringa said.
Schoon saw it as unique and neglected. Some historians argued Schoon wanted to ‘‘invigorate and revitalise’’ indigenous art – a perspective that is now seen as outdated.
‘‘It is a valid criticism,’’ Beiringa said. ‘‘But there is also a lack of recognition of what he did contribute.’’ Schoon was ‘‘enamoured’’ with the heritage of indigenous art, including Indonesian art, and was equally interested in the decline of colonialism, indigenous tourism and the state of Mā ori affairs.
Schoon was frustrated that indigenous art was seen as naive by the contemporary art world and he wanted to strengthen its reputation.
The film showed Schoon at various stages of his life and features various commentators, including Mā ori artists and historians, discussing his life, work, artistic approach and relationship with Mā ori.
Beiringa said Schoon rejected the contemporary art scene, which led to his immersion in Mā ori art and design.
In his musings Schoon, who was gay, gave hints of his relationships with other men. He was a ‘‘totally reckless’’ heavy smoker and smoked three packs of Camel cigarettes per day at one point.
By the time of his death he was frustrated and deeply bitter at the lack of acknowledgement of him as an artist.
‘‘He was a prickly individual but also generous,’’ Beiringa said.
Schoon’s letters also reveal his thoughts on New Zealand society, his paranoia and annoyance about nobody purchasing his artworks, his queerness, his being a migrant, and his likes and dislikes.
If nothing else Schoon was a complex character, Beiringa said.
While the film was narrated, it was not the truth. ‘‘The film lets Theo speak for himself.’’