Practice Statement

Unsettled (a working document)

My practice is centered around the Hauraki Plains, my childhood home. I recently uncovered the story of the destruction of the giant Kahikatea forest and the swamplands—a revelation that shocked me from many angles. Most surprising was my lack of knowledge about this history, which prompted me to delve deeper into the area's past. Through my artistic practice, I aim to tell stories, provoke thought, and spark meaningful conversations.

I have been thinking about the lens of care within my work. Bruno Latour and his philosophy of Care Ethics invite us to consider care for a non-human-centric world and to recognise our interconnectedness with nature.^[1] Despite our awareness of the intricate connections between plants, animals, people and land, monetary concerns still heavily influence decision-making.

These words by Anna Tsing add to my dwindling belief in our ability to improve the world and learn from our mistakes: “Neither tales of progress nor of ruin tell us how to think about collaborative survival.”^[2] But we must care; we must start conversations; we must offer hope. Despite this negativity, underpinning my practice is a belief in nature, that the cycle of life will continue, and heal. That spring comes after winter.

Researching the past and the details surrounding the transfer of land into settlers' hands makes for uncomfortable reading. In many cases, the land may be considered 'sold,' but legal manoeuvres and other pressures often played a significant role in shifting ownership. A namesake, if not a relative, F.G. Dalgety, founder of Dalgety NZ Ltd, was at one point, the largest landowner in the country.^[3] Although I need and want to acknowledge our complex post-colonial history, as a Pākehā, I feel I cannot tell this story adequately. Looking back with a similar perspective, Richard Shaw concludes his book The Forgotten Coast with the poignant words, “Best I end the forgetting.”[4] I can share my family's story and through that, convey the history of the Hauraki Plains.

In 1910, my two great-grandfathers obtained land through the first Hauraki Plains ballot. They were allocated neighbouring blocks, unaware that their families would later unite through the marriage of my paternal grandmother and grandfather. Both blocks were located near the bottom of the Hauraki Gulf.

Using my family history to depict the land and the transformation of the wetlands may be the answer—celebrating my ancestors, the difficult decisions they made for their families, and their hard work in choosing to come to this country as new settlers. By telling their pictorial story, I can also share a narrative of how the landscape was changed and the impact of those actions.

The earliest paintings of landscapes in New Zealand were based on the European tradition. Frances Hodgkins’ father, William, stated in his paper ‘A history of landscape art and its study in New Zealand’ published in the Otago Daily Times in November 1880 that “those masterpieces of colour and composition which fill the galleries of Europe, and tend so much to inspire all that is lofty, pure, and noble in art, we have in the country in which we live, a land absolutely teeming with artistic subjects of the most varied kind.”^[5]

Many of these early glorified paintings were sent back to Great Britain and used to entice settlers to New Zealand.

Depicting the Hauraki Plains as they are now in my watercolour landscapes can be frustrating, as the green fields, trees on the horizon, and rivers can seem celebratory and romantic, offering no hint of what once existed or the damage that was done. On the other hand, imagining and painting vibrant, lush kahikatea trees as they once were results in beautiful, yet idealised images that don't convey the message I intend. This is not the outcome I wish to achieve.

Using watercolour, a traditional landscape medium, in combination with the concept of swamplands, peat, and wetlands, feels fitting in a way that oil or acrylic does not. The watercolour pigment and its resulting graininess align with the swampy wetlands.

I use water from the rivers of the Hauraki Plains—the Waihou, the Piako, and the Waitakaruru Stream—to dilute my watercolour pigments. This creates a direct connection between the land, the waters, and my paintings, reminding me of the wetlands that existed behind these pictures.

I'm currently exploring ways to tell the story using historical and family photographs of the Hauraki Plains, images that are personally connected to my family. I'm currently testing painting these images on butter paper, which feels appropriate given that the original Kahikatea trees were cut down and milled to make butter boxes for export. The fragility of the butter paper also seems relevant. I aim to maintain a level of abstraction in the images, which in some cases is easily achieved due to the high contrast of the original photographs.

Currently, I am looking at artists Anselm Kiefer, Adam Lee, Yvan Salomone and John Wolesley.

German painter and sculptor Kiefer reflects upon Germany’s post-war identity and history, grappling with the national mythology of the Third Reich. This quote of his helps me to focus on the future: “I feel ruins are moments when things show themselves. A ruin is not a catastrophe. It is the moment when things can start again.”^[6]

Australian artist Adam Lee, although diverse in subject matter and source material, works in large format paper using watercolour, and it is his process with watercolour that interests me. He allows the medium to flow and fill spaces even when painting pictorially.

French artist Yvan Salomone also paints in large format watercolours, depicting the landscape as it is now, but they are not pretty or romantic. His subjects are port cities and the cranes, tanks and ships that make up that landscape.

Australian artist John Wolseley employs watercolour, collage, frottage, nature printing, and other methods involving direct physical contact as a way of 'collaborating with the actual plants, birds, trees, rocks, and earth' of a particular place.^[7] Inspired by Wolseley, I’ve found a spot on the Waihou River where I can immerse paper in the water and mud, and rub it on the grass beside the river, before painting on it.