Back to an age of innocence

By ANDREW CLIFFORD

Sculptor Harry Watson collects and crafts fantasies from wood. Like a magpie magician he gathers images, combining them to conjure up strange, fictional artefacts.

Surveying the assortment of figures and furniture that have been assembled for his exhibition at G2 Gallery, you would be mistaken for thinking you had stumbled into some weird antique toyshop.

What is most distinctive about Watson's work is that he paints his carvings, although that's a practice that wasn't so unusual in earlier times.

"The painted wooden saints, angels and reliquaries that adorn medieval churches held the original fascination for me that inspired the use of polychromed wood," he explains.

"I was also quite interested to read that all the Greek statues that have been uncovered, all the marble had been painted. But by the time the Romans got to them, all the paint had come off so [the Romans] imitated that style and didn't paint them.

"And the bronzes had been painted and the terracotta figures of the Chinese had all been painted - everything's painted."

Watson indiscriminately combines images from different periods, often creating intriguing associations from disparate sources.

His large work Worship takes ancient carvings from a recovered Viking ship, the Osberg, engraving them across a handcrafted headboard alongside more distinctly New Zealand imagery.

"When I go into my workshop it's as though I go into the past using old methods to dwell on old times," says Watson, who considers the lycra and fluorescent world that we live in "quite ugly".

"History can be re-created as a fiction. It's an escape-space from the reality of modern life, a place where things are simple and don't have to be real."

As the popularity of The Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter clearly indicates, Watson is not alone in his nostalgic outlook. The escapism of olde-world fantasy and magic seems to have struck a universal chord.

For Watson, however, the magic is less about the hocus-pocus of magicians and their spells and more about the simple, vivid charm his pieces are imbued with.

One of the most whimsical works in the exhibition, Forest and Bird Reunion Dance, has a cartoonish huia clutching a flag and conferring with a dancing kiwi.

Watson's objects and characters seem to inhabit their own worlds, as if they have been plucked straight from the pages of a story. It is the visual chemistry, rather than any potential narrative, that is his first priority.

"The initial instinct is what looks good together," he says, "or what contrasts, or what thing sets another off, and, as much as possible, something that's never been seen before. The initial thing is to get some sort of intoxication going on, so I have to start believing in it and then, of course, the story comes.

"Like, I could hear leaves rustling as I was finishing [Forest and Bird] and I could hear the kiwi going 'eeh-eeh' and hopping up and down and then the huia coming down through the trees and donning a cloak and then telling the kiwi, 'I have serious fears for your future'."

Watson's celebration of a more innocent era also connects with the innocence of childhood. He enjoys assuming a child-like perspective in his work and agrees that carving artworks in his workshop is akin to being paid to make his own toys.

It is fitting, then, that his work will grace the cover of Gregory O'Brien's forthcoming book on children and art.

That Watson grew up in a creative environment is no surprise.

"My mother [Jean Watson], as a writer, was a great creative influence and always supportive," he recalls. "I think that because she was a creative person that was always the energy of the house. She'd go off and I'd do writing and I'd perhaps scribble or make mud-pies. It was always about making."

At secondary school he enjoyed the company of quirky Scottish painter Robert McLeod, and he spent a few months living with Michael Illingsworth, whose influence is apparent in the personality of much of Watson's work.

However, Watson's motivation to start making objects began with the simple inspiration of seeing wonderful works in books and wanting to possess and own them.

You might expect that with such an irrepressible I-want-one-of-those impulse, Watson must be quite a hoarder.

Curiously, however, once the desired image has been made manifest, he has no qualms about selling it.

"The funny thing is, once I do [make something], I can easily let go of it," he says. "I don't need to own the stuff. In a way it will always be mine."

Exhibition

* Who: Harry Watson

* Where and when: G2/FhE Galleries, 2 Kitchener St, to April 29