(Gallery Thirty Three, Wānaka)
Wānaka’s Gallery Thirty Three has been transformed back into a childhood dream this month, with a cascade of glass and ceramic lollies spilling across every surface. Popular sculptor Simon Lewis Wards returns with his latest collection, delving deep into nostalgia, playing with perspective, and continuing to impress with the level of technical skill, execution and attention to detail. From the iridescent gleam in a cast-glass licorice twist to the tiniest wrinkle in a ceramic "paper" bag of sweets, Lewis Wards fully commits to his subject, ensuring the ultimate sense of immersion and delight for the viewer.
Playfully, most of the sculptures are much larger than their edible counterparts, so that adults can look through the eyes of a child again, when everything seems proportionally much bigger, an explosion of colour and excitement. The twisting ropes of licorice are so uncannily credible as stretchy sugar, rather than cool and breakable glass, that it creates an optical illusion. The newest Candyman — a serene gentleman in "lake blue" — takes his hue from the glittering waters outside, the pastel tones and matte surfaces of the ceramic works contrasting beautifully with the bright jewel tones and glossy glass of the Jet Planes. An ultra-oversized concrete Candyman duo stand on sentry duty in the window, keeping watch over both the passing foot traffic and the inhabitants of the sugary wonderland within.
(Hullabaloo Art Space, Cromwell)
The wonder and whimsy continue in Cromwell, where Lizzie Carruthers’s latest menagerie of animals take shape in paint, canvas and sheer attitude. Carruthers’s furred and feathered subjects are always bursting with personality — whether it’s a highly sceptical sheep who clearly knows more than you do, or the Rude Cow, whose unimpressed, level stare could flatten even the sturdiest ego, or the world’s most disgruntled rooster, who sees all and doesn’t like any of it.
Often, anthropomorphic details in the works — human clothing, accessories, or gestures — hold up a mirror to the viewer, letting us see the reflection of our own foibles and weaknesses. This time, visitors to the gallery could have the disconcerting, amusing sense that they are the exhibit on display, as Carruthers’s vibrant characters all look directly out of the picture frame, entirely focused on whatever is happening in the gallery — and none of them appear to be overly impressed.
The use of solid primary colours in the backgrounds is extremely effective, acting as a spotlight on the piquant faces, as if they’re posing for photographic portraits. Carruthers’s thick, textural brush strokes bring an additional layer of dynamism, enhancing the underlying liveliness and sense of imminent movement and action. At any moment, you expect a head to shake or a mouth to speak, the canvases to come alive before your eyes.
(Hullabaloo Art Space, Cromwell)
Snow falls like glittering stars, the ghosts of music and laughter seem to drift from a circus tent, and a long road of possibility stretches into the horizon. It’s a journey through many different sights and emotions with Hullabaloo’s "From the Archives". In Gail de Jong’s Snowfall, an old metal drum lid is transformed into a portal on to a wintry landscape — or perhaps dreamscape, as the snow- and star-dusted mountains seem to glint with a hint of gold, the sense of pages turning, stories and legends unfolding within. Lorraine Higgins’s Winter Solace is achingly beautiful, shrouded in silvery mist, almost watermarked as if by rain, but with flashes of pastel iridescence like the sheen of crystal.
The visual storytelling spills from one work to the next, with sculptor Debbie Neill wringing the most delicate details and nuances from metal wire; Neill’s human figures take shape on the wall like 3-D pencil sketches, every line and limb invested with an extraordinary echo of personality and feeling. The posture of Evanescence XLIII is self-conscious and tense, the shoulders drawn up and hands taut, but a soft, budding confidence hums through the wires like electricity.
Ceramicist Sue Rutherford’s Circus Tent Jar and Carousel capture the liveliness and magic of a carnival, a playful fusing of fantasy and function, while photographer Eric Schusser’s Boundary Road, Ida Valley brings both gravitas and hope, as we stand looking towards the mountains. We’re at a crossroads, but the path ahead is clear and pointed, silently urging us onwards, one step at a time.
By Laura Elliott
