Great southern artist
New Zealand painter, Grahame Sydney, was recently surprised to discover that
Aucklander's love his paintings. Given that Sydney lives in Otago, in the South
Island, and proudly describes himself as a regionalist, he can scarcely believe
it.
In New Zealand, parochialism is shown through which colour rugby jersey you wear
(rugby is the national sport). Auckland has looked down, from its position at
the top of the North Island, on the Otago rugby side's blue and gold and its proclamation
that to be a "real man" you must come from the south. Snide things have also been
said by Otago men about the blue-jerseyed Auckland team - querying its masculinity
and propensity to answer cellphone calls during rugby training.
It's good-natured parochialism mostly, but there has always been a bit of "them"
and "us" about Auckland (New Zealand's largest city) and anywhere south of the
Bombay Hills, an area that marks the geographical edge of the City of Sails. But
Sydney is delighted that Aucklanders - many of whom hadn't stepped foot in their
own art gallery before his exhibition came along - turned out in droves to his
2001 exhibition. More than 34,000 walked through the doors of the Auckland Art
Gallery to view Sydney's On The Road, which featured depictions of Central Otago
landscape not necessarily familiar to those living in the North Island. Something
about images of the SouthIsland's Central Otago region seems to create a sense
of yearning in all New Zealanders. It invokes a desire to get away from it all
and be part of the spectacular landscape featured in Sydney's paintings.
Says art critic Keith Stewart of Sydney's work: 'You don't just see the land
here, you feel it... These hills, these skies, give us a voice that is unique,
a voice that is evoked by the art of Grahame Sydney. It is the voice of us all.'
People living outside New Zealand also experience the sentiments stirred by Sydney's
artworks.
'I can't answer what makes them universal,' says Sydney. 'The observation I've
made on that is that I seem to only want to work out of my own island and own
province. That makes me a regionalist, which is a very unhappy term in art circles,
but I'm a very happy regionalist.'
As well as his representations of the Otago landscape, Sydney's precise brush
strokes have created portraits of people close to him - his wife and son for example
- and some well-known faces, such as New Zealand playwright Roger Hall. His egg
tempera, and oil, portraits are reminiscent of Renaissance art, with Sydney skilfully
depicting character and mood through his observations on colour, light and beauty.
Technically, he is superb and a perfectionist. He has painted for more than 27
years, with his popularity increasing markedly over the past six.
'In the art world you tend to gather interest slowly if you are from the conventional
side as I am, rather than from the avant garde side where students can jump out
of art school and be highly fashionable within a year,' he says. 'Those tend to
be brief flames flickering, but I'm just an ember that has glowed on for a long
time and it's the time that matters. The longer you last the more you force people
to recognise there might be something there.'
Raising questions
Although Sydney's precisely crafted works seem almost photographic in their accuracy,
there is an inherent danger in accepting them as truth. Sydney's interpretation,
passion, subjectivity and politics all contribute to an emotional tension within
each painting that is far more complex than a photographic image.
'The paintings aren't done to say much about what they're looking at; they're
done to say things about me,' he explains. 'What I find hard getting through to
people is that although the paintings' subject matter is landscape, they are fabrications
in a great many ways. They are like this because of the sort of the person I am.
Paintings, like first novels, are always primarily autobiographical. They're not
so much a sense of the place but a sense of about me.'
A road sign with the message partially hidden by a draped cloth is typical of
the type of device Sydney uses to raise questions rather than provide easy answers
in his work.
'One of the reasons the signs are usually unrevealed is to maintain the power
of that mystery,' says Sydney. 'I love the fact that in a painting you can build
a permanent wondering.'
While Sydney's work has drawn international recognition (Nelson Mandela, Elton
John and Sam Neill all own paintings), Sydney says his focus in painting is purely
on the work itself.
'I don't do the paintings to be accessible. When you are painting and making
each image one by one you're never thinking of any audience. It's an utterly selfish,
self-centred thing - and you don't consider anybody at all.'
In spite of this, he acknowledged his fans in 2001 through numerous public speaking
engagements. Such events largely go against the grain of the laconic Sydney, whose
dry and self-deprecating sense of humour is typically 'southern'. But a 'southern
man' - as in a beer-drinking, rugby fanatic he is not (at least not the beer part
of the equation. This interview had to be postponed to fit in with his viewing
of an All Black test match).
At an Auckland gathering to speak about his works, Sydney revealed his vulnerability
as an artist, admitting that some of his paintings can sit for long periods unfinished,
because he believes himself incapable of finishing them. Ultimately he does, but
sometimes it is not before a long battle with his mind has been won.
Sydney despises what modern art elitism means for the average art lover, and
has a website he hopes will go some way towards making his art more accessible
to the person in the street.
'Big money has rendered art inaccessible by hiding it away and making it impossible
for anyone else to obtain. It has become elitist because of that money, and has
turned into a sort of high fashion or some sort of trumpeting of status. The trouble
with that is that very few people see what is being done.
'The more expensive paintings become, the less society can enjoy them and I don't
like that. I've never liked that. The reproductions on the website, which are
common now of my stuff, were done with my approval - not necessarily any excitement
- but I do think it's important. I've always pinned up works by my favourite people
and that should be able to be done very cheaply. People should be able to enjoy
what they want.'
Grahamesydney.com allows people to see and purchase works, including prints,
posters and postcards. For the traditional media enthusiast, Sydney has also released
two books. Timeless Land was published in 1995 and features writings by respected
New Zealand poet and friend Brian Turner (also from Central Otago) and New Zealand
short story specialist (and friend) Owen Marshall alongside works by Sydney. The
book contains an introduction by another of Sydney's good friends, Hollywood actor
Sam Neill, who owns a vineyard property in Otago. Sydney's most recent book, released
in 2000, is The Art of Grahame Sydney. It won the Montana New Zealand Book Award
medal, top non-fiction prize, as well as top illustrative book and the readers'
choice award. The images inside, while stunning, fail to do his technique justice
in that they are photographic images of his work and subsequently lose their texture
and depth to an extent. But, like the website, the books make him more accessible
which can only be a good thing.
Great southern land
Now 53, Sydney has no intention of moving from Otago to paint further afield.
He fell into that trap once when he moved to London in 1973, where he discovered
he was unable to paint with conviction.
'I work from experience,' he says. 'I'm not the type of person who can work from
any sense of imagination or fantasy - I'm a real world person. I lost heart completely
almost immediately when I was in Britain. I knew I could paint but it didn't seem
to matter to me because I didn't think the things I could have been doing were
of any consequence.
'I hate the superficiality of tourist art and I realised I didn't want to be
one of those. Britain had absolutely no meaning for me. No sense of belonging.
What I try and do is explore why it is I feel like I belong in Central Otago.'
He returned to Dunedin in 1974 to commence a full-time art career. From 1976
to 1983 he lived at Mt Pisa Station near Cromwell and married Roslyn in 1978.
The couple had a daughter, Melissa, in 1979 and a son, Nicholas, in 1981. In 1983
they returned to Dunedin but in 2000 Sydney cemented his painting future by building
the studio of his dreams in Central Otago.
'It's just the realisation of common sense for me having a studio in central
and in Dunedin as well,' explains Sydney.
'I'm sometimes an isolationist and sometimes I'm sociable. For eight years we
lived in Central at Mt Pisa Station and a lot of the work that was in the exhibition
came from that period. But equally I enjoy being in the city [Dunedin] and being
amongst people.
'When we left Central and came back to town in 1983, it was always in the hope
that I would be able to establish a studio again when the kids were big enough.
Now they're in their 20s and it's become financially possible for me to risk a
building roughly in my sort of territory. If I feel like being away and in there,
that's where I want to be able to do it.
'In my job I might as well - it's important for me to be in my subject territory.
It's where you do your thinking and it's where the ideas come.'
Sydney isn't worried about running out of ideas as long as he is in Central Otago.
And as long as he breathes, he has his subject matter in himself, his emotions
and outlook. He says he could never convey those through the landscape of any
other part of New Zealand, or the world, no matter how beautiful. He would like
to go overseas to visit the works of his favourite American artists including
Winslow Homer, Thomas Aikens, George Wesley Bellows and Edward Hopper - but not
to paint there.
'I don't have the heart for painting anywhere else. I go to other places and
think they're beautiful but I don't want to turn them into art - it just doesn't
interest me. I seem to have lost all urge to be elsewhere. I have so much that
I want to do here.'
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