Art Seen: December 01

In this week's Art Seen, art critic James Dignan looks at works by Stephen Bloomfield, Andrew Hill, and an exhibition celebrating the anniversary of the France Hodgkins Fellowship.

Cardinal, by Gretchen Albrecht.
Cardinal, by Gretchen Albrecht.
‘‘Undreamed of ... 50 years of the Frances Hodgkins Fellowship’’ (Dunedin Public Art Gallery)

The Frances Hodgkins Fellowship was the first substantial residency on offer to New Zealand artists. Now, as it celebrates its 50th anniversary, it remains one of the country's most prestigious awards.

To commemorate the award's anniversary, the Dunedin Public Art Gallery and the Hocken Collections have curated a large joint exhibition of work by all the Frances Hodgkins fellows.

The DPAG hosts the larger selection, with many standout pieces. In most cases, the artists are represented by two works, one from their residency and one more recent piece.

This enables us to follow the development of artists' styles. We see Neil Frazer grow from his early ''Pollock impasto'' works to bold, dynamic landscapes; Seraphine Pick develops from unnerving flat group scenes to the swirls of blue light in her 2015 work Superstar.

Marilyn Webb's work also shows major changes, from primitive monotype landscapes to the soft evocative chalk and pastel works for which she is widely known.

As always with the DPAG, the exhibition is comprehensively annotated and demands at least one long visit - preferably more.

Anyone interested in modern New Zealand art should make a point of going to see it. (The Hocken part of the exhibition will be reviewed separately later.)

Love in a Cold Climate, by Stephen Bloomfield.
Love in a Cold Climate, by Stephen Bloomfield.
‘‘Travelling Light’’, Stephen Bloomfield (Robert Piggott Gallery)

The first word which comes to mind when viewing Stephen Bloomfield's muted geometric abstractions is Zen.

This is highly appropriate: The artist has designed these works almost as a visual mantra: steady unchanging points on which to concentrate so as to free the mind from its ceaseless thoughts and allow it to focus on nothing.

The paintings are fields of leached colour showing only the thinnest ripples of rectilinear and concentric patterns, and at first sight there seems nothing to them. The subtle shifting tints become apparent only after viewing them calmly for some time.

Each work contains one or two focal dots of brighter colour, and it is through concentrating on these points that the circular patterns become more evident. There is a feeling of staring beyond the surface of a clear watery pool to see the play of light on the pool's bed.

Several of the works are named for 17th-century Japanese poet Basho, and the works reflect the simple yet profound philosophical style for which his haiku are famous.

As with haiku, there is a sense here of presenting a quiet exterior experience so that the viewer has more opportunity to contemplate their own inner feelings. Each work thus become a meditative focus through which viewers see their own souls.

Untitled, by Andrew Hill.
Untitled, by Andrew Hill.
‘‘Some Moments of Pleasure, Some Moments of Pain’’,  Andrew Hill (Gallery on Blueskin)

Wanaka-based ceramicist Andrew Hill has produced a fine exhibition of small works at Gallery on Blueskin. As the exhibition's title suggests, these items reflect on the joys and difficulties of life.

The works encompass three distinct groups: a series of joyful human figures, an array of wheel-turned shapes (most notably a wall of hemispheric bird houses), and a group of enigmatic dark works reflecting on the artist's battles with his health.

The latter works are in many ways the most intriguing of the pieces. A medical condition in which Hill suffers with painful pressure on his eye has been evoked in solid artistic form.

The physical condition is echoed in a series of shimmering ceramic plate structures, tipped with wavering tendrils. Similarly, the optic pain is effectively pictured in bristling brick-like blocks, sitting menacingly like cubist sea mines.

A display of cup-shaped birdhouses serves as an allegory of our often self-defeating attempts to resuscitate bird populations. As an array, and also as individual pieces, the works are attractive and poignant.

A welcome relief from the pain and wistfulness of these pieces comes from the joyful caricatured figures, sitting individually or in small group portraits. These pieces produce enough smiles to partially dispel the darker mood of the rest of the exhibition.

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