Agnes Dean was a cabinetmaker. That’s a somewhat startling piece of information when you consider the detail. A woman and with the name Agnes, would put her back somewhere in the early part of the twentieth century. Furniture making, of course, was the preserve of men, along with all the other ‘manly’ professions. To be born female and in 1920 or thereabouts would be a recipe for the predetermination of one’s role, clearly defined and limited to the narrow confines of domestic help, nursing or occupations of similar ilk. But Agnes broke the mould in conservative England where social parameters were rigidly set and strictly followed. What helped Agnes Dean was the fact that her foray into an exclusively male domain happened during the war years where all the traditional gender roles, of necessity, were, at least temporarily, abrogated. Men in large numbers conscripted for war meant shortages on the home front which were filled by women, who kept “the home fires burning”. Thousands worked in munitions factories for which Rosie the Riveter was the …

In the upstairs pink-washed interiors of Auckland Art Gallery Toi o Tāmaki, the god-king Rama is depicted with celestial blue skin, using pigment made from crushed lapis lazuli. All colours, obtained through natural processes by pounding vegetables or powdering rocks, are applied with a single-haired squirrel brush, and Rama’s jewels, almost imperceptible, are made of fireflies with clipped wings. Courtesy of the National Museum, New Delhi, The Story of Rama is an exhibition of 101 miniatures from 16–19th century India, which together retell the Sanskrit epic-poem Ramayana. It is a story that is fundamental to the cultural consciousness of India, and is at the heart of the Hindu moral compass. It is very difficult not to be awe-struck, almost moved by the loveliness of these works. The technical mastery is exquisite and the presentation in the gallery is equally lush. But these are cultural objects of historical significance to India, and the deeper significance any viewer here might find seems contingent on the viewer’s capacity to re-orient themselves in two different ways, to two different …

The old story of the Emperor’s New Clothes can be read in any number of ways; how politicians are easily duped, how mass conformity operates and so on. It can also be viewed as an exemplar of alternative perception, the outsider view. This is how curator James R Ford has chosen to understand the fable, using it as the title and focus for the exhibition currently showing at the Wallace Gallery in Morrinsville. Given that the role of art, as some see it, is to “strip the veil of familiarity from things”, as poet Shelley once claimed, or to provide an unorthodox perspective, then Ford is in good company and the works in the show certainly provide an oblique angle on a range of subjects. One of the most arresting of those is a gem of a piece, by Sanjay Theodore, unprepossessing in its form, (it is simply a found bit of paper which has been then photocopied) yet provided with an ironic and satirical setting by having it placed inside an elaborate gold frame. The …

Assorted small things In a room full of perspex cases and salon-hung paintings at the Auckland Art Gallery Toi o Tāmaki, there are two modest works sitting quietly side-by-side. Wunderūmma: New Zealand Jewellery showcases so many works that it appears overwhelming. In this particular case a fascinating piece from Te Papa Tongawera, titled Randell Cottage Jewellery, 1850-1910, makers unknown, rests alongside Kate Newby’s Most Naturally from 2013. Both works involve a collection of small items carefully arranged, and seeming to promise a good story. You can find them for yourself in case ‘L’. It took me several inspections of Wunderūmma to get to know this pair and the fascinating story behind the Randell Cottage Jewellery. Long forgotten, the objects were found in a hidden cache of the Randell Cottage in Thorndon, Wellington. A bloom of turquoise oxide now covers the small collection of keys, brooches and other miscellaneous items. No one knows the collector, where the objects came from or why they were chosen. Kate Newby’s work on the other hand consists of a number …

Theo Macdonald is an artist that publishes a regular comic series called Theocracy – an excruciatingly simple pun on the artist’s name. The autobiographical and mock-scholar tone of Theocracy suits, as with each new release, Macdonald outlines another adventure of embodied cultural critique. The latest issue titled Go Out – Stay In – Get Things Done, outlines the artist’s fourteen-week conversion to David Bowie circa 1983 (one of the musicians most maligned periods). As Macdonald explains on page one: “The project is thinking about how certain parts of an artist’s career are canonised and the transitional phases glossed over.” The comic format is a surprisingly intuitive guide to the conceptual performance piece. The necessary context of the work is made illustrative, and each intricacy repurposed as a twist in the story. A map of Macdonald’s experience during the performance; the comic is a personal record of what might otherwise seem a deceitful exercise. While Go Out – Stay In – Get Things Done feels like the definitive guide to the performance, Macdonald’s shape shifting found …