Art New Zealand
Upon entering Envy, visitors are greeted by a surreal tableau reminiscent of a suburban backyard, where the features are rendered inert by their display. An empty birdbath covered in moss sits in the middle of the gallery, facing a digital photograph of a domestic sparrow, the gaze of which is fixed directly on the viewer. In the corner, an empty steel-wire hanging basket is suspended from the ceiling, evoking the presence of a security camera. A section of rusted corrugated fence, sourced directly from Dr P’s garden adorns the wall, serving as the backdrop to Yllwbro’s intricately detailed birdhouse, complete with its own wallpaper.
As one adjusts to the scenery, smaller details emerge, such as Yllwbro’s replica of the Wētā Hotel, a wooden box designed to trap and display wētā insects behind a small pane of glass, similar to those used in local wildlife sanctuaries. This installation recalls 19th-century scientific plates that catalogued unknown species from the New World, reflecting Enlightenment hierarchies of taxonomy and control. Nearby, two loaves of Vogel's bread rest on a chopping board, their surfaces marked by distinctive sparrow nibbles, forming a collaborative sculpture that embodies the ephemeral interactions within contemporary gardens.
The garden, as we know it in Aotearoa New Zealand, manifests early settlers’ anxieties regarding the progress of the colonial project. The division of industrial and domestic space (of which the garden was exemplary) was a relatively new development within European middle-class society, yet quickly became a defining characteristic of what was considered ‘civilised’ culture, a standard by which an emerging colony might be judged. Henry William Petre, the colonial treasurer of New Munster Province, assuaged the Crown’s anxieties regarding the success of the colony in a letter, directly referencing the proliferation of the manicured garden.
This show interrogates this country’s colonial artifacts through the lineage of artistic parody and appropriation, as practiced by figures such as Francis Picabia and Marcel Broodthaers. Just as Picabia’s parodies of glamour models nullified the presence of the artistic author, A.A.M. Bos’s Birds of the Air subverts objective categorisation of birdlife through genre mimicry. Hongerwinter’s delicately arranged exhibition of physical objects utilises the readymade in the context of New Zealand’s distinctly quaint and tumbledown gardens. Its intentionality places the colony under a microscope, prompting viewers to consider the assumed normalcy of a garden’s features as laden with meaning, rather than as harmless decor.
The references to Dutch influence initially seem convivial and tongue-in-cheek: Vogel’s bread paired with Dutch Gouda is shared, yet inherent in these gestures is an invitation to reflect on the historical circumstances of the colony. As Louis Althusser suggests, art reveals what we perceive and feel—distinct from knowing—as it emerges from and engages with its originating ideology. The alchemy of each readymade work inspires less an allegorical or metaphorical interpretation and more a mnemonic device to consider the naturalisation of alienation, without requiring viewer activation as a prerequisite.
Millie Dow, Exhibitions: Wellington: Hongerwinter (Auckland: Art New Zealand, No. 191, Spring 2024), p. 45