Award-winning Israel Randell talks art, new challenges and the bigger picture
“If people ask me [to explain my work], I want to have a conversation. That’s really all art is, a conversation. Sometimes it’s real honest, like, ‘What the hell is that?’ or ‘Why do I hate this work so much?’” That’s the kind of things that artwork brings.”
Through multi-media, moving image and sound, award-winning Tauranga artist Israel Randell articulates the spiritual and unseen. Now, in her new role as curator at Whakatāne Museum & Arts, she wants to help amplify the voices of local talent.
WORDS Maria Hoyle PHOTOS Quinn O’Connell
The question ‘what is art?’ is a tricky one to answer. One person’s masterpiece may be another’s monstrosity, making it hard to reach a consensus. Yet for multi-disciplinary artist Israel Randell, it’s not complicated at all. Art, she says, is a conversation, and as a newly appointed exhibitions curator at Whakatāne Museum & Arts, it’s one she is very much looking forward to having with the local community.
Originally from Hamilton (Tainui, Ngāti Kahungunu) and of Cook Islands descent, the mum-of-one has her work cut out for her when she arrives at her post (the week after talking to UNO). She and the team will be busy preparing for the February exhibition of the winners of the Molly Morpeth Canaday Award: Painting & Drawing, presented by Arts Whakatāne and held at Te Kōputu a te Whanga a Toi – Whakatāne Library & Exhibition Centre. Although that will be Israel’s immediate focus, she talks excitedly about the bigger picture.
“I’m really interested in being embedded in the community, getting to know the artists, and finding out how I can help them to realise their ambitions and be that person who bridges the community and the gallery,” says the Toi Ohomai Bachelor of Creative Industries graduate. “I’m also excited to be learning from my colleagues. Going into any new role, it’s good to be listening.”
Listening will be crucial for her dialogue with local artists too. Some may not see the gallery space as relevant to them – for example, those who may be more focused on selling their work, or those from other disciplines such as dance, theatre or acting.
Is it fair to say that galleries are often seen as no-go zones for certain sections of the community? “Yes,” she says decisively. “A gallery space is definitely always viewed as a white space by people outside looking in.”
So breaking down the boundaries between practices is one way not only to showcase a wider variety of work, but also to change the perception of what and who a gallery is for, of reaching those who aren’t, for whatever reason, engaging with it. “It’s constructive to help different types of creatives,” says Israel. “I think it does start with having a structure that caters to every kind of practice, not just the 2D practice or sculptural practice.”
Israel’s no stranger to having a dialogue across disciplines and amplifying the voices of indigenous artists. She arrives in her new role fresh from a Mana Moana research residency with arts agency Circuit, where she looked at the experimental practices of Māori and Pasifika visual artists, writers, choreographers and musicians to produce a collection of interviews and online content.
Israel’s own work experiments with moving image, multi-media and sound – quite a departure from the large-scale paintings she did as an art student in Auckland. “I took a break, moved to Tauranga and started off again at Toi Ohomai. But I didn’t want my work to be flat on the wall anymore – I wanted to occupy the space between the walls. I wanted to paint with light in space, so I was looking for materials that would let me do that. Lots of painters say all painting is about light and dark. I was interested in using light in a sculptural way to activate space.”
She originally considered working in neon, but it was costly. A classmate suggested wire would be cheaper, so she sourced some on Trade Me and started experimenting with it in the school studio.
Playing with wire and light sounds like a lot of fun, but it was no walk in the park. Israel’s daughter Lola, now two and a half, was just eight months old when Israel started the course. “I was still breastfeeding so I was worried. But I needed something else, a direction or passion, that was separate from my identity as a mother. I needed that for my own mental health and that in turn made me a better mother.”
It also, she believes, made her a better artist. “You go in there with no bullshit, no excuses – you get things done. You don’t have time to fluff around, then go home and work till 2am, because at home it’s all about your child. So I was way more focused. I think that drive elevated my art practice to something it maybe couldn’t have been when I was a single person.”
“I didn’t want my work to be flat on the wall anymore – I wanted to occupy the space between the walls.”
That ‘elevated something’ is a compelling body of work that speaks clearly to ‘maatauranga’ – what she describes as “the whole way of being Māori, the many layers that there are.
“I look a lot to cosmological narratives to explore things that aren’t material,” she says. “I’m interested in actualising the intangible. It’s hard… I don’t know if I’m successful half the time. This year’s body of work has focused on water and the elemental phases it goes through, and the spiritual things they hold for Māori and Pasifika people. I’m interested in exploring things that I can’t see that have been told by generations of elders, and trying to connect with it and make sense of it in my own way.”
Israel might not know if she’s successful half the time, but her work certainly impressed the judges of the 2020 Miles Art Award, presented In March by the Tauranga Art Gallery Toi Tauranga. To her surprise, she landed the Supreme Award for Wahi Ngaro, a compelling installation in which triangles of electroluminescent wire reference whakapapa and an in-between space with infinite potential. It’s a beautiful piece, one you can appreciate without knowing what it represents. Does it bother her when she’s asked to explain her work?
“If people do ask me, I want to have a conversation,” she says. “That’s really all art is, a conversation. The artwork is there to trigger that. Sometimes it’s real honest conversations, like, ‘What the hell is that?’ or ‘Why do I hate this work so much?’” That’s the kind of things that artwork brings.”
And then sometimes the work exists, well, just because. “Sometimes we totally make it because we want to make it. It’s important to let people know that and uncomplicate the way we speak.”
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The real glamour in the real Vegas: Kharl WiRepa
Designer Kharl WiRepa has won award after award for his wildly glamorous couture. He met Trelise Cooper at 15. At the age of 23, Anna Wintour’s gang have come knocking.
Designer Kharl WiRepa has won award after award for his wildly glamorous couture. He met Trelise Cooper at 15. At the age of 23, Anna Wintour’s gang have come knocking.
WORDS JENNY RUDD PHOTOS MICHELLE CUTELLI
Kharl WiRepa has been named as one of the country’s top 20 influencers under the age of 25 by www.scout.co.nz, had two shows at New Zealand Fashion Week at which front row tickets were requested by US Vogue. At age 15 he was the only person at a fashion show to be able to curl Trelise Cooper’s locks properly. So he has talent by the truckload.
The 23 year old born and bred Rotorua boy is sooo fashion, darling, all high cheekbones, slender physique, svelte tailoring and dark glasses. He’s also as cheeky as an imp and his honesty probably gets him into trouble. Half the stuff he says isn’t printable and is naughty and funny enough to necessitate plenty of covering of mouths to stifle giggles and scoffs from both of us. Warm and confiding, he’d definitely make the perfect dinner guest: outrageous, beautiful, fun, well spoken and well read.
NOT FOR ME
An only child, Kharl went to a smart, private Catholic school. He said he found it hard there with both the other students and the teachers.
“They wanted to mould everyone. I didn’t feel I needed to be moulded as I am quite happy as I am. Why should I be something I’m not? I will do what I like because I am not subject to anyone’s conditions. As an only child, I was used to socialising with adults and I didn’t appreciate being spoken down to at school by the teachers. What makes them better and more important than the students?
“I was bullied severely for the way I behaved and carried on. Gang bashings were commonplace. I can throw a punch though, I stand up for myself. I don’t like losing so I was happy to get stuck in. I suspect it’s different going to school now for people like me. I hope it’s better.”
YOUNG STARTER
“At 18 years old, I was the first ever male and youngest ever senior manager at Supré, I looked after all the store managers nationwide. I had the skills to do it but was far too young for that kind of role and that kind of money. I got carried away with it all and ended up in casinos, spending money on things I shouldn’t have, taking drugs and hanging out with the wrong people.
“I thought my whole life would be at Supré, I loved the job. I was a stylist at Cleo magazine at the same time, buying clothes and styling models. When it all spiralled out of control I lost everything: my car, all my money, everything. Apart from my jewellery of course. I couldn’t lose my Chanel watch.”
Kharl’s design as seen in British Vogue.
A stint at rehab and a move back home to live with his family in Rotorua led to enrollment in fashion school. He didn’t even finish the course, just got on and started work. One to court interest, TV3 produced a documentary on him. He produces collections but everything on his catwalk shows can be made to measure. Haute Couture is where he wants to be.
GIVING BACK TO HIS PEOPLE
He’s also generous and clever. That’s an enormously useful combination. The manager of the Rotorua Salvation Army Store approached Kharl to help them find a way to increase sales.
“Each day, the Salvation Army give out 32 food parcels. There are so many people who need them – I know lots of those who do; some of my own friends and family, my indigenous people. To fund these parcels the Salvation Army need to increase their sales. Each year, we put together a fashion show ‘A Million Dollar Look for $2’. We use the stock in the store, local models and hold a catwalk show.”
He takes the Salvation Army show as seriously as his high profile shows. And that’s what makes him so endearing. He can play the game at being utterly fabulous, with plenty of emphasis on the first syllable accompanied with air-kissing but is also knowledgeable about how a large chunk of the demographic live in New Zealand and the politics behind it. He also spoke of the exploitation of young models and is working within the industry to expose those with poor working practices.
TRAFFIC STOPPER
On December 5th, the streets in central Rotorua are closing. Salon St Bruno and Kharl are putting on a summer fashion show with other local designers.
“The council are renovating the square in the middle of Tutanekai Street but they are waiting until after the fashion show.” He clearly gets a kick out of holding up the council in favour of a flurry of glitz.
Next year will be big: he plans to open a store in Tauranga straight after New Zealand Fashion Week. “I’m thinking all white and perspex.”
The range of experience and insight for a 23 year old is quite astonishing. The boy has gumption, ability in spades, a love of sparkle and is, quite firmly, in the ‘look out world’ category.