Fiona Pardington – Ruru Perfect Prince Essay by CONNIE DWYER
In Māori creation stories, in the beginning there was Te Kore; a gulf of unlimited potential. Then there was Te Pō; the darkness and ceaseless night from which came Te Ao Mārama; the lit world that we inhabit today. In Fiona Pardington’s Ruru Perfect Prince (2016, Lot 29), from the velvety depths of midnight soar outstretched wings, feathers aglow, emerging from Te Pō to the light, only to be frozen, locked in night. The photography practice of Fiona Pardington (Ngāi Tahu, Kāti Māmoe, Ngāti Kahungunu, Clan Cameron) has gained her recognition as one of New Zealand’s most renowned artists. She holds a Doctorate in Fine Arts from the Elam School of Fine Arts, and was appointed a member of the New Zealand Order of Merit for her services to photography. Her practice features clean and contemporary takes on classical art tropes, such as the still life and Vanitas, contoured with Māori ancestral reference. The Vanitas archetype often presents symbolic objects such as candles, clocks and flower cuttings as a visual reminder of the fleeting nature of life and the inevitable deterioration of beauty. Pardington manipulates the Vanitas parameters here, utilising them to impart a narrative of conservation and preservation of New Zealand traditions and native species. Ruru Perfect Prince is an impressive two-panel work showing the wingspan of a Ruru, presenting a rich and reverential depiction of the native owl. The work is electric. The repetitious layers of feathers are vivid, their brilliance lending the composition a chiaroscuro effect. There is a visual discourse between Pardington’s work and that of C F Goldie, through their shared earthy and deep sea green palettes, and both being benevolent agents of the cataloguing process of the history of Aotearoa. The rub in Pardington’s work here comes from whether the artist’s hand is loving or eerie. The body of the bird is omitted from the work, leaving only a taxidermic breadth of feathers to be scrutinised. Pardington’s isolation of the wings is somewhat grim, lending itself to an extinction narrative. Her approach leans toward an almost clinical curiosity, like someone pinning a butterfly’s wings to a board. It is a capture of the beauty of the living bird, displayed as if in a taxidermy room, before time ravages the thing into a shadow of its former glory. Yet, this morbid fascination is alleviated somewhat by the diptych format. The diptych format bears reference to altarpieces, an elevating tactic, encouraging veneration from the viewer to the cult of the bird or an undefined deity. Pardington’s work often functions as a memoriam, particularly in her depictions of extinct species. This work is significant in Pardington’s photographic works of birds as the act of documenting is one of conservation in itself. Though Ruru Perfect Prince depicts a species of stable population, it could in this case serve as a reminder of the treasures Aotearoa still has and should protect. It captures and records an inhabited space and time, preserving lived experience. Webb's
October
78
