Why I made: Sculptor Brett Graham on war memorials and making colossal art
With skilled hands, a curious mind and an eye towards indigenous histories and philosophies, Brett Graham transforms ordinary pieces of wood and stone into monumental sculptures.
Right now, his 8.5m Wakefield Dreaming commands attention at Waiheke Island’s Sculpture on the Gulf; late last year, New Plymouth’s Govett-Brewster Art Gallery raised $250,000 to buy Graham’s Cease Tide of Wrong-Doing, a behemoth that stands nearly 10m tall and 3m wide.
The 57-year-old is now preparing to travel to Italy as one of eight New Zealand artists whose work is in the Venice Biennale’s international exhibition Stranieri Ovunque, Foreigners Everywhere. He’s also making new art for this year’s Walters Prize – he was nominated for the 2020-21 show Tai Moana Tai Tangata shown in New Plymouth, Wellington and Christchurch – and for the Queensland Art Gallery.
Of Ngāti Korokī Kahukura and Tainui iwi, Graham’s father, the influential sculptor Fred Graham – still making at age 95 – the late Selwyn Muru, Paratene Matchitt and Ralph Hotere were early influences.
Why do you make such colossal sculpture?
I’m not obsessed with size but with occupying space in a commanding way. Every work has different challenges. Large forms in difficult, inaccessible spaces always create intrigue because the viewer marvels at the miracle of how the object came to be in the space. However, if an installation really works, it should appear effortless, and the viewer lost in the physical sensation of the work on the body’s senses.
Even when I was at art school [Elam], I made installations that were all essentially monuments. One was inspired by the words of Princess Te Puea and also a reflection on the NZ Wars Memorial on Symonds St, in Auckland City.
I would walk past it every day and think about the inscription which reads: “In memory of the brave men belonging to the imperial and colonial forces and the friendly Maoris who gave their lives for their country during the New Zealand Wars, 1845-1872.”
I wondered about the dismissal of the “unfriendly” Māori, who were people essentially fighting for their land and how they were demonised as rebels. They were our iwi of Waikato. So, I became interested in remembrance.
Growing up in Manurewa and Waiuku, sure, you could pick up books and look at wonderful Michelangelos or whatever, but the main examples – especially if you grew up in the suburbs or rural – were war memorials.