Perhaps the most striking aspect of Far Flung is the extraordinary heterogeneity of the works. The green expanse of Summit might be a mountain or a state of being (certainly, a visage ghosts the peak). Made up (of) is a theatre packed with squared spiral spectators, and it is nothing of the sort. That forms, no matter how legible, often feel emergent and improvised. That the paintings in Far Flung seem curiously out of time, neither of the moment nor retrospective. No doubt, I would do well to dwell on other impressions. Even Nothing Toulouse negates as well as avows an association with Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec. Hopkinson notes that Jannides’ practice is largely self-contained and seldom actively referential. But such associations are likely imposed rather than inherent.
Medium W, for instance, with its mother and child formed from concrete ribbons and hovering over a field of diaphanous colour, calls to my mind Henri Matisse and Séraphine Pick. I keep wanting to draw connections with other artists. It tends to feel deeply introspective, deeply intimate.įar Flung is marked by a pervasive quality of familiarity. Jannides’ work often seems to synthesise disparate shreds of experience – not only of tangible places, like the kitchen, garden and street, but also of the inside of her head. Hopkinson makes mention of The Archaeology of the Self, an online course involving collage and journaling in which Jannides participated during a lockdown, and her ongoing interest in writers like Anaïs Nin, famous for her sensually written diaries. But it’s the sense of agglomerated fragments that can be understood to key the show. I think of a wall in Portugal, a country where Jannides lived for several years. Like the six other paintings in the exhibition, it is on a human scale, a canvas you could almost embrace. In Far Flung, she suggests, the work might be Poem Pieces. Gallerist Sarah Hopkinson comments to me that in a show by Milli Jannides, there is often one work that unlocks the whole. This is clear in A New Net, a hearty kupenga that continues the work already started – but with a few new and exciting tricks of its own. A new generation of artists will also be particular in its methods, as well as the conversations it captures.
Different nets had different purposes and methods for particular tides, fresh and sea waters, as well as various species of seafood.
Nets were works of art with a revered function – they kept you fed. A net was your marketplace, your stock exchange, sustenance, your livelihood. Te Heuheu’s paintings might also capture you in an existential looking-glass, reflecting on ideas of self, universe and time as you linger in the red void of Untitled.Ī net was a prized possession. Ireland obscures the view in her paintings on recycled glass, now a mirror or a window into the artist’s questions about identity and psyche.
Te Waa’s structure extends the stage for Ireland’s painted faces, where again bodies are jumbled and called into question – in works like I only take my socks off to shower. Similarly, the tactile nature of Te Waa’s installation has you wanting to rub the head/foot/limb/belly/finger of Mummy or to throw an arm around Untitled (Old Comrade). Whatever the descriptor used, Kara’s work carries that coercion of whakairo that makes you want to trace the wooden grooves with your fingertips. Kara’s birch wall works are read as tukutuku panels or as whakairo, but in the glittery geometry they are also doing their own thing. The pared-back works of Kara and Te Heuheu complement the animated assemblages of Te Waa and Ireland. There are formal pairings in the exhibition. The text describes the significance of ‘the new net’ as symbolising a coming of age – the arrival of a new generation that isn’t a replacement, but a contingent of fresh support. The exhibition text explains that the inspiration for the title came from the short-story collection by Witi Ihimaera called The New Net Goes Fishing. The current show at Tim Melville Gallery presents four up-and-coming Māori artists, Hannah Ireland (Ngāti Hine, Ngāpuhi), Maioha Kara (Waikato, Ngāti Kahungunu, Te Arawa, Ngāti Porou), Jamie Te Heuheu (Ngāti Tūwharetoa) and Tyrone Te Waa (Ngāti Tūwharetoa, Ngāti Hine).
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