GARDEN
Out Standing in the Field Megaliths, matai, bellbirds and bluestone: the sculpture garden at Tai Tapu is a rare creature within which three-dimensional fine art can be released into outdoor spaces and enclosed by native plant species found on Banks Peninsula. WORDS & IMAGES Martin Wilkie
PLACING SCULPTURE INTO A GARDEN SETTING IS
an ancient activity: found at least 3,000 years ago in Egypt, through classical Greek and Roman times, and inspired by rediscovery of those cultures between the 15th and 19th centuries. Indian and many East Asian cultures also have a long tradition of incorporating sculpture in temple and pleasure gardens, public and private. In those times the progression of sculpture through the garden often told a story, and had a precise meaning – and layers of meaning. Greek gods and myths, cosmology and creation, a Roman statue acknowledging the numen divine force at a freshwater spring; these were quite specific messages, with clues to understanding for visitors of the time. The Tai Tapu sculpture garden is perhaps closer in spirit to classical Japanese gardens in the Buddhist tradition, such as Ryōan-ji in Kyoto; Buddhism itself has a particularly strong connection to gardens. Objects in the space, be they individual artworks or simplified further to rocks, sand, plants and other natural elements, are a more abstract composition where meaning and interpretation is fluid, arising from the viewer’s experiences, and contemplation. There is great depth and complexity in this kind of garden too; our response is simply less ‘directed’, as is the case with much contemporary art. Many Japanese gardens incorporate the Chinese Buddhist elements of yin and yang (in and yō in Japanese) where, for example, ‘hard’ rock and ‘soft’ water complement each other. The artworks at Tai Tapu have their own spaces enclosed and sheltered by dense plantings of New Zealand natives
– another example of how contrary forces can actually be complementary and interconnected. This specific combination may also be seen as a rotation around centres of gravity: heavy works of smooth black marble and green serpentine, bronze, and rough-textured Timaru bluestone at the heart of open spaces, surrounded by curving walls of lighter foliage swirling around the periphery as counterweight. Recently I had a closer look at a gathering of Timaru bluestone carvings by artist Doug Neil, created in 2020 using diamond-tipped tools; The Rocks tall carved standing stones from 2010 are also his work. Resting on stone plinths all at the same height, they seemed like a fleet of vessels at sea, or in space. In fact they’re named for large asteroids in our solar system including Ceres, Juno, Herculina and Aurora. The intricately carved pieces have forms and textures which bring to mind the pleated throats of baleen whales, Greek triremes, seed pods and dragon scales. Bluestone is a dense blue-grey volcanic basalt, a valuable resource for contemporary artists and for heritage buildings such as the original Christchurch University in the 1870s, now the restored Arts Centre; and in many Dunedin landmarks. Around two million years ago, a volcano just west of Timaru (now extinct!) poured liquid lava over about 130 square kilometres to form this hard volcanic rock. None So Blind (2015) by Graham Bennett is a landmark in the garden. Fixed to the apex of a galvanised steel telecommunications pole recycled from Antarctica, two horizontal life-sized human figures cut from stainless steel
OPPOSITE Japanese-style plank bridge with sedges Carex and megaliths The Rocks carved by Doug Neil (2010) from Timaru bluestone.
130 latitudemagazine.co.nz
