Lupin 1953

Editor: So, this is Rita Angus's "Lupin," painted in watercolor in 1953. It’s a deceptively simple landscape, but the way the colours are applied, it almost vibrates. It feels incredibly modern. How do you interpret this work, considering Angus's place in New Zealand art history? Curator: Absolutely. I see it as more than just a pretty landscape; it’s a powerful statement about identity and belonging. Angus was deeply committed to representing Aotearoa, New Zealand, on her own terms, resisting European artistic traditions. Think about the lupins themselves - introduced to the landscape, arguably a symbol of colonial impact, but here, celebrated in her unique modernist style. What does this tension evoke for you? Editor: It's like she's acknowledging the complicated history of the landscape while still finding beauty and a sense of ownership. The lupins, almost geometric in their representation, don't feel invasive, but integral. Curator: Precisely! And that's where her activism shines through. She reclaims the narrative. Notice also how she flattens the perspective, pushing against conventional landscape painting to forge a distinct New Zealand modernism. This deliberate simplification encourages viewers to really *see* the landscape, not just look at it. Does it shift your understanding of landscape art and its potential for social commentary? Editor: It definitely does. I was initially drawn to the aesthetic qualities, but now I see how it challenges established notions of landscape and national identity. Curator: Exactly, by interrogating visual conventions, Angus invites us to consider the narratives that shape our understanding of place and belonging. Editor: It’s incredible to consider the layers of meaning embedded in such a seemingly simple image. Curator: Agreed. Angus used her art as a voice, a form of resistance and a celebration of a unique cultural landscape. It resonates even now.