Walters’ art still delights, courage still recognised with protest
THOSE of a certain age who visited Auckland in the 1960s to ’80s may remember the New Vision gallery, established by immigrant artist and weaver Kees and Tina Hos in Takapuna in 1957, and moved in 1959 to the old His Majesty’s Arcade (now demolished), on Queen St, in central Auckland. Initially showing highquality craft work, the New Vision expanded upstairs in 1965 to provide space for contemporary art.
Civis and family lived in Hamilton in the early 1970s, and, having by chance discovered the New Vision, made a point of visiting it when in the city, and, in the course of nearly three years, with some financial effort, bought several small bronze sculptures by a Northland artist, still treasured four decades later.
The late Gordon Walters, a New Zealand pioneer of abstract art, influenced by Maori motifs and known for his korubased striped works, exhibited there, so, when invited to the opening of the Gordon Walters New Vision exhibition at the Dunedin Public Art Gallery, jointly resourced and curated by DPAG and the Auckland Art
Gallery, Civis went along in reminiscent mood. As well as the art, the event was an opportunity to meet friends over drinks and nibbles, and learn (when not distracted by the youngish man near the bar, who continued haranging his bemused companions during the speeches) about Gordon Walters. Appropriately, one of the speeches was followed by a waiata.
Many of the works shown were untitled, which led Civis to wonder whether titles matter. Should viewers come to their own understanding of the piece, undirected by the artist, or is some guidance helpful?
For instance, the painting titled
Waiata, with (like many others) koru and horizontal stripes, a pair of koru meeting on each stripe. Most of the koru met on or near the middle of the piece, with an occasional pair well away from the midline on either side. Given the title, it symbolised for Civis what happens when people join to sing a waiata at the end of a whaikorero — some of the singers are exactly in tune, most roughly in tune, and some noticeably out of tune, but all are part of the whole, and the group (and the support it gives) would be less than whole if it lacked any of the singers. An allegory for society: only whole when not just the socalled normal, but also those who are different, are equally valued.
Civis has no idea as to whether that understanding was Gordon Walters’ intention. But the title certainly triggered meaning in the viewer’s mind. So, the message to abstract artists is: for at least some viewers, titles can be helpful.
The day after Armistice Day a civic service for Remembrance Sunday took place at St Paul’s Cathedral. As well as New
Zealand’s national anthems, and two traditional hymns (sadly,
Gregor Macaulay’s adaptation of
vow to thee, my country wasn’t used — perhaps next time?), a hymn by Shirley Murray, Honour the Dead,
honoured conscientious objectors to war as well as those who fought. About time too, whatever the RSA (which objected to the Archibald Baxter memorial being sited in Anzac Avenue) might say. Many COs showed great courage in following their consciences, equal to that of the bravest soldier.
As the ODT reported (13.11.17), the Dean described the support given by chaplain Hoani Parata to a shellshocked soldier being executed by firing squad, and spoke of the need for ‘‘moral imagination’’.
He asked: ‘‘Does what we have and do honour the memory of those who died in this war?’’ Would those who died in war have approved the deep divisions in our ‘‘nation of haves and havenots?’’
That’s what Remembrance Day and Anzac Day should do: ‘‘engage the past with our present’’. And any who protest that politics shouldn’t intrude into Remembrance should think again.
Politics relates to everything, and any such protest is political too.
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