Exhibitions

Auckland Paul Martinson Moa

Sanderson Contemporary 10–29 September

RICHARD WOLFE

The moa of New Zealand have endured a double indignity; extinction at the hands of this country’s earliest human settlers and then misrepresentation by its artists.

The first published image of the bird appeared in 1867 in a book by German-Austrian geologist Ferdinand von Hochstetter, who had spent nine months in this country in 1859. That landmark image, of a towering giraffe-like bird, established a pattern which was perpetuated by lofty skeletal arrangements and reconstructions in museums around the world. Since then science has reconfigured the shape of the moa, granting it a much lower and more ground-hugging posture. It has also drastically reduced the number of known species; it was once believed there were as many as 38, but the currently accepted figure is a much more manageable nine.

Paul Martinson’s exhibition represents the fruits of many years of cooperation with scientists in order to determine a better sense of exactly how the birds appeared in their natural environment. The resulting nine paintings―one for each of the species―reflect the current understanding of the birds’ structure and colouration, the latter having been determined by DNA analysis of surviving feathers.

The focus of these reconstructions is the diagnostic features of the birds’ anatomy―size, plumage, body proportions and the head and the bill. Representatives from several species, such as the North Island giant moa and stout-legged moa, fix a beady eye on the viewer, while the eastern moa is viewed from behind, peering over its shoulder. Several other birds are shown in profile and, almost without exception, all have been caught poised, with one foot off the ground, in suspended animation.

While Martinson’s moa dominate his canvas, other elements are included to give a sense of the birds’ size and habitat. The little bush moa and Mantell’s moa are accompanied by a North Island kokako and weka respectively, while a young tuatara accompanies and is completely overshadowed by an upland moa, the so-called ‘mountain goat’ of the species. Otherwise there are no distractions from the birds themselves, all being presented here against plain backgrounds, either white (mostly) or a delicately textured lilac.

The birds themselves have been masterfully reimagined in watercolour and watercolour pencil (there are two exceptions, in acrylic on canvas), with the artist’s exquisite rendering of the subtle shades and speckling of plumages being particularly convincing. These animated reconstructions of long-dead subjects represent a unique fusion of art and science, and go well beyond the realm of natural history illustration. What the moa may have lost in stature, it has gained here in both character and authenticity.

But despite the authoritative scientific evidence which has informed these paintings, there remains