New British Art

Press, Volume CVI, Issue 31221, 19 November 1966, Page 27

New British Art

The exhibition “Aspects of New British Art” is not for beginners or persons who dislike or can’t be bothered to make the effort to try to understand modern art, and its retinue of abstract painting, expressionism, action painting. abstract expressionism. op. pop . . . and so on.

Artists, art teachers and students, indeed anyone who has made a thorough study of what has been happening since 1906. will find the col-: lection, bravely hung at the McDougall Gallery, stimulating and blessedly refreshing. At least a dozen of the 66 works speak with that quiet authority possessed by genuine works no matter of what period or culture. Alli these paintings (note paintings rather than pictures) are challenging and require the viewer to think, construct, 1 contemplate for himself and participate in an aesthetic exploration not without danger to preconceived notions and ideals. Though some of the paintings investigate problems in experimental aesthetics already treated in depth bypsychologists w-orking in the fields of popular taste and mass-communications-media, it is significant that artists arrive at solutions w-hich pose fresh questions. The important point to grasp is that this exhibition deals writh the modern world. No matter how much we may hanker after comfortable and familiar themes, yearn for romantically nostalgic evocations of nineteenth century impressionism or realism, the world of genes, fission, traffic engineering and ad-mass is here. Even so, the artist in this exhibition attempts what artists of the Renaissance, and for that matter every other age, attempted: namely to humanise and make palpable the central truths of the period in which he lives. City-Centred Art The population drift to the city, from natural to concrete jungle, a fact and symbol of

the machine age, has produced city-centred art. Traffic vectors, neon signs, flashing beacons are now a stock-in-trade of the painter rather than hill, stream, trees and animals. The harsh discordant kaleidoscopic jumble of city sights and sounds presses in on us all; many young artists believe that to fulfil their proper function (tradition), they have to work in this context.

Consider, by way of general example, Peter Sedgley’s hexagonal painting entitled “Spray” (rather similar to, though better than, his painting "Around” reproduced in “The Press” on Thursday) which consists of spots on a mid toned ground of yellow. Each spot has a halo of misty yet more intense yellow. The facts of colour saturation, retinal exhaustion, subjective colour, are a commonplace found in every elementary art book written for children and 1 were well understood long ago by painters of Egyptian tombs, but they became powerfully expressive elements in the hands of some nineteenth century- artists attempting to inject sensations of movement into painting by- means of unmoving spots of complementary colour, producing effects suggestive of heat haze, dancing reflections, flickering light in perpetual motion, etcetera. By juxtaposing small areas of complementary colours at a scale likely to produce periodic exhaustion i and subjective colour I reinforcement in the eye of the beholder, Corot, Monet and other painters solved problems that had fascinated and defeated generations of ) artists.

Twinkling Painting In Sedgley’s painting the idea is taken further and developed in its own right: as one’s eye moves slowly over the painting, spots change their size, tone and colour, disappear entirely only to reappear larger and brighter, the painting twinkles like lights on a frosty night! There are no batteries, elect-

ric motors, switches and clockwork mechanisms but the work produces a sensation not unlike a cluster of neon signs. Yes, the reader might say, but what if anything has all this to do with art? The answer—for this painting and the exhibition and for Corot or Monet—is that the artist through his work fulfills his time-honoured function and enlarges our knowledge, sharpens our vision and enriches our experience of the real world—giving us the pot of gold promised by the rainbow. An Illustration I have taken one work (by no means the best or the most interesting or the most satisfying) to illustrate what kind of exhibition this is and the level or response required of the viewer. It may prove too difficult for many persons who enjoy most exhibitions; this reflects not so much on them as on the very inadequate provision made for secondary art education with the result that a large majority of young New Zealanders leave school artistically illiterate, without that knowledge of the grammar and syntax of form so necessary today for anyone who wishes to understand and follow developments in art and design. It would be folly to even attempt to print one of Peter Sedgley’s paintings in a newspaper, but the black, white and grey of Bridget Riley’s work is possible. Her “Metamorphosis,” reproduced above, has become remarkable as an example of how “useless” aesthetic experiments made by “useless” painters can often assume economic importance. Through gifted designers, her work has increased British exports in fashion, interior design materials, printed textiles, typography and advertising. In New Zealand op-art will probably be appreciated in its applied forms, but the exhibition should be seen, before it closes on November 27, by every person who is genuinely trying to understand what art is all about.—H.J.S.