Giants and a genius among men

Ron Mueck's 'Self Portrait'. Photo / Rod Emmerson

Above: Wild Man. Below: In a Marital Bed. Main: Self Portrait.

Our eyes locked immediately and the surprised look on his face no doubt mirrored my own.

Here we were, two strangers in a large, empty, white-walled room, he seated in its centre.

His heavily bearded face slightly recoiling, no doubt challenging my intrusion. The flash of modesty that greeted us both came from him being totally naked. His body was huge. At least 3m tall seated, a Jonathan Swift parody in the making. The difference between him and me was that he was a Ron Mueck creation.

Wild Man is a fibreglassed frame covered in silicone and painstakingly brought to life by his ingenious creator, and part of Mueck's exhibition on display at the Christchurch Art Gallery.

Mueck has long mastered the technique of replicating human flesh to microscopic detail. Every blemish, wrinkle, mole, freckle, goosebump is there. Capturing the sheen, tone and lustre of human flesh and hair has challenged artists for centuries.

The other challenge has been that of feet and hands. Many an artist has hit the prehensile crossroads. Can I or can't I create hands and feet? Thank God for shoes and gloves, I say. Walt Disney gets away with three fingers and a thumb to this day.

Yet to master this as a passionate three-dimensional sculptor, whether your chosen medium is marble or clay, is truly awe-inspiring.

Mueck has succeeded to a point where you expect his creations to blink or just stand, stretch, then quietly walk off.

His works are confronting in size, subject matter and realism. They are either gigantesque or small in stature, and all tell a story.

His earliest work, Dead Dad is sensational. It's one-third in scale, lays flat on a large, white, low-set block and with the most subtle of lighting in a dark room, gives the feeling of peering into the first moments of eternity. The soul has escaped yet the body carriage lays limp and at peace.

It is his father, complete with real hair from the artist. The detail is so extraordinary, you become overwhelmed with the temptation to pinch him to see if he's real.

It is often described as a grotesque, vulgar and intimidating work, but the suspicion is that its artist would wear such comments as a badge of honour.

The attraction for both artist and public is with the human body.

None of his subjects would ever be described as naturally beautiful, yet he captures us as we really are when the lights are fully on. Opaque from lack of sun, tired, aged or new born.

From somber moods, our first breath, the sick and frail, the gossiping elderly, the wealthy and well-heeled - his palette has no limit.

Australian by birth and another Melbournian, like the master of marble sculpture of the same calibre, Peter Schipperheyen.

If you remember the early 80s in Australia, Mueck began his journey as art director for children's television show Shirley's Neighbourhood. 'Shirley' Strachan was better known as the frontman for legendary 70s rock band Skyhooks.

Mueck's obsession with model-making, puppetry and voice-overs led to a variety of television work and eventually film, where he made his mark in the 1986 Jim Henson movie Labyrinth and beyond to Henson's television series The Storyteller.

Moving to London, he began his own company generating animatronics and highly detailed props, mostly for advertising.

That field required particular camera angles to capture the realism he so desperately craved.

Two people in his life brought about a sea change - Portuguese artist and mother-in-law Paula Rego and arts patron Charles Saatchi.

Rego brought Mueck on board in 1996 to help produce work for an exhibition at the Haywood Gallery. Rego then introduced him to Charles Saatchi, who commissioned him for several pieces of work.

With Saatchi's admiration and support, he then created Dead Dad.

His popularity exploded around the world.

This is a rare moment for New Zealanders to view major works of one of the world's leading contemporary artists. I can't recommend it enough.