Mason Ball
With the passing of Norman Maclean we have lost one of our elders. This is a man who shaped lives, and shaped his own in a remarkable way.
I was fortunate to have grown up with Norman as a family friend. He was an individual who was an irrepressibly positive influence — jocular, upbeat . . . all the qualities an insecure teenage boy like me might wonder at and aspire to.
He found his roots in humour, in friendships, in the glory of his natural surroundings. He produced art with a distinctive swirling style as decorous, organic and substantial as a Corinthian column. Indeed, he was one of the leaders of a renaissance in the local art scene in the 1970s and 1980s. In his enthusiasm, he took me along to printing class with him once. He showed me how to carve pieces out of the plate, print and carve and print again, in a process which would leave overlaid colour.
I remember I made an image of a tree in shades of yellow, orange and brown. Norman had helped me grow it, and in the process nurtured my confidence to create.
Through Norman we learned a deeper appreciation of beauty. Be it a host of monarch butterflies, the flower garden in full splendour; be it the beauty of a Manet painting; or the definition and physique of the human form — Norman would express his admiration.
He could easily have hoarded these discoveries but because he was a teacher, a communicator, he shared his perspective with us. Most of us struggle to attain this level of refinement; we fail to notice, we down-play, we take for granted the world around us. Norman urged us not to blind ourselves through prejudice or paradigm to what was beautiful and evident.
I was also fortunate to have had Norman as my Classical Studies teacher at Lytton High School. He could draw a gladiator in chalk. Through his stories he could take you off to the ancient Athenian agora, to the steps where a patient Socrates drew truth and discovery from his acolytes. Norman was a benevolent, gracious, respectful teacher. He was all the qualities he wanted us to become.
He trumpeted the classical age, the Ancient Greeks and the Roman Empire. He was unapologetic in his admiration of European culture — not the piracy or the crusading, not the self-righteousness or the slavery but the distinguished achievements: the architecture, the literature, the philosophy, the art and the theatre. Being true to this tradition made him no less a Kiwi.
The festive season is the perfect time to remember Norman as he always embraced the magic of Christmas. Yes, we should be kind to each other; generous, helpful and reverent, but we should not forget joy. Norman loved Christmas decorations — a tree loaded with tinsel and baubles, the fancy wrapping of presents, the gold and the silver, the celebration of the event.
I last saw Norman a week or so ago, we hugged. He was dear to me and I was dear to him.
Even then, weakened by sickness, he remained unflappably himself. Father to a generation in Tūranganui-a-Kiwa, matua Maclean . . . you produced a life of the very highest order. One which will never be forgotten.