In print: George Watson on Robyn Kahukiwa
Date 24 February 2021 WORDS George Watson Imagery Supplied
Robyn Kahukiwa, The Choice, 1974, oil on board, 970 x 1260 mm. Collection of Pātaka Art + Museum. Image courtesy of the artist.
This article appears in The Art Paper Issue 00.
Please buy or subscribe to read.
Born in Turanganui (Ngāti Porou, Moriori and Ngāti Mutunga) George Watson graduated with a Masters in Fine Arts from Elam School of Fine Arts in 2016. George has recently returned to Tāmaki Makaurau after completing the Maumaus Independent Study Programme in Lisbon, Portugal. Recent work includes Eternal Girlhood of the Settler State, presented by May Fair Art Fair in collaboration with Tyson Campbell (2020), and Mānawa i te kāniwha, a mural in collaboration with Abigail Aroha Jensen at Artspace Aotearoa.
Also appears in Issue 00
In Zina Swanson’s latest series All My Sticks Have Auras, “Meaning quivers between viewer and work, plant and human, and between each decomposing twig and the vibratory aura the artist depicts,” writes Robyn Maree Pickens in Issue 00.
“We have entered the realm of the otherworldly—the linear, the logical and the structured, folding inward and expanding outward upon the drawing plane. Her way of working has a strong sense of urgency and intuition, her mark-making has a zest that is distinguishably hers,” writes Priscilla Rose Howe on Susan Te Kahurangi King in Issue 00.
“Robyn Kahukiwa’s mahi toi is direct and bold, her paintings simultaneously embrace the warmth and richness of Te Ao Māori, of our values, spirituality, and practices whilst also depicting the fraught social realities for many Māori living in colonised Aotearoa,” writes George Watson in Issue 00.
“Robert Janhke’s sculpture Whenua kore (2019) discloses significant possibilities for mātauranga Māori thought, raising the question of how Te Kore, or nothingness, impinges on our everyday activities,” writes Carl Mika in Issue 00.
“With words as her foundation, Conor Clarke walked around her neighbourhood, allowing intuitive associations to guide her choice of site and subject. She used a pinhole camera with no viewfinder, restricting her control over aesthetic choices and allowing for guesswork. The visual is no longer the only means of interpretation. Here, land is something to be smelt, touched, heard, felt and imagined,” writes Maya Love in Issue 00.
Ayesha Green’s I thought I heard you crying in the Forest is “a painting about power, and the ways that power is gained, maintained, coveted, stolen, and mourned through systems of representation,” writes Lachlan Taylor in Issue 00.
“With Fijian heritage on her paternal side, Jowitt literally embeds her family roots––sea and land––into her works by incorporating shells and coral pieces found on the shoreline as well as traditional Fijian materials vau (Hibiscus fibre) and masi (Fijian white tapa),” writes Erin Griffey in Issue 00.