McCahon's Faith show a must-see

By HEATHER BURGESS*

A Question of Faith at the Auckland Art Gallery is proving to be much more than I expected. It's right up there, experience-wise, with the reading of Keri Hulme's Bone People, seeing Van Gogh's Sunflowers, diving into the world that is Salman Rushdie's Midnight's Children and shaking Artur Rubinstein's hand.

Who am I? Nobody. But Colin McCahon has held an unseen but strong thread which is leading me out of a labyrinth of a life of unrealised dreams.

I attended a summer art course under his tutelage and he was a great teacher. He was encouraging, positive towards my work and coped with my mother when she wrenched me from class because McCahon was a wicked man who taught us about the Arch Satan Picasso.

That is the personal connection. Banal, but that's the bottom line for most of us.

To the exhibition. First, find it. You follow other lost souls and end up on the back stairs emerging to a video playing softly in a room with no chairs. So I turn it up, kick off my shoes and plonk my arthritic self on the carpet. I received 20 minutes of an instructive and gently passionate guide through the paintings from a pleasant woman, and lots of funny looks. This time proved useful later, but back pain forced me to leave the rewinding presentation and attempt an inelegant hoist to the vertical. Note to organisers - could we old farts have some chairs please if we promise not to bring our knitting?

I had taken the precaution of buying the substantial catalogue that accompanies the show. It is well worth $55 but the publishers could have used a bit more glue, and the colours in the reproductions are surprisingly inaccurate. The real works seem much brighter and more talkative. However, the book is so easy to read, and helpful in finding one's way about, that those small faults have been forgiven.

As an ignoramus, I am learning so much and understanding much more about McCahon's work, that the book is acting like a light switch. My religious background is finally proving of use. My scribblings make much use of the Scriptures, to reflect and explore my lack of faith, so it's a bit like, "Colin, you understand me" as much as the other way around.

McCahon's journey of the soul, where every footprint is etched in every brush stroke on the canvas, can be an exciting and clarifying experience. I intend to return as soon as I have finished reading the catalogue, to listen to the first half of the commentary and to take in more of the paintings. There was too much for me to take in on one visit, but it's free: you can go back and back. Next time I will take my little camp chair for the sake of my creaky bits.

Don't let your future hold the regret that you missed what will one day be hailed as the Great McCahon Exhibition of '03.

* Heather Burgess is a Titirangi relief teacher who attended Colin McCahon's summer school in the early 1960s.