Sculptor Profile
Sean Crawford
Follow my Path, Laser cut Corten steel Pīwakawaka, Corten steel panels and steel extrusion.
Kōwhai, Laser cut Stainless steel Kowhai panels, Stainless steel extrusion with a powder coat render.
Pōhutukawa, Laser cut Stainless steel Pohutakawa panels, Stainless steel extrusion with a powder coat render.
The ocean vessel ‘Wild Deer’ steers to starboard as huddled bodies shelter on deck. With lungs in search of fresh sea air, the figurehead of ‘Dianna the Huntress’ cuts through the brine of the churning Southern seas. As night slowly lowers her veil, a group of stars forming a cross, point the settlers to a new land. A mystical overseer in a brave new world - the ‘Wild Deer’ is leaving the familiar, the ‘known’, and entering a new land of myth and legend.
The ‘Wild Deer’ was one of the colonial clippers’ bound for Port Chalmers, New Zealand. She started her run in 1871, her primary cargo being settlers for a new land. She completed ten journeys before tragically running aground and sinking off the coast of Glasgow in 1882. By this stage, the use of charts and instruments were helpful, however the stars were often still used to provide reassurance in the form of ‘checks and balances’.
The Southern Cross has always been known as a directional marker - either mystical (by pre-Europeans) or heavenly (due to the imagery of the cross). However, both Polynesian sailors and their European counterparts saw it as a sign of spiritual guidance - pointing the way to early voyages into the Southern seas - as well as a navigational tool to find the ‘true south’ celestial pole. It is also is known by at least eight different names in Māori, many with contrasting stories. For example, Tainui Māori named it Te Punga - as they saw it as the anchor of ‘the great sky canoe’, whereas, to Wairarapa-based Māori it was Māhutonga – an aperture in Te Ikaroa (the Milky Way) through which storm winds escaped.
In this sculpture I have placed the Stag (an introduced species) as a representation of the settlers traversing the globe. The deer cutting a path through the native bush becomes an embodiment of the ship - as it cuts its way through the ocean - with passengers in search of a better life. His form is mapped by the flight of the indigenous Piwakawaka (Fantail) - a celestial messenger bridging both physical and spiritual domains. She becomes symbolic of the new world and all it’s wonder and possibilities, whilst the Stag represents the settlers - alien in our strange land.
The title of this piece makes reference to journeys, as well to a spiritual realm where cultural meanings are interwoven. The panel that the Stag emerges from symbolises the sky, or the celestial realm. The constellation of the Southern Cross is created by the silhouetted cut-outs of the Pīwakawaka. These silhouetted shapes on the panel also create a gateway of sorts, affording the Pīwakawaka movement - as per Maori oral history - between these realms. Able to traverse all paths - land, sky and the realms that exist beyond - she also becomes a guide to the mystical spell woven from the stars.
In Kōwhai and Pōhutukawa, part of the Nature of Surveillance series, these works continue to explore ideas of times past and present. Specifically, New Zealand’s colonised past by early settlers, and a critique of ‘colonial thinking’. A prominently held view at the time was that ‘the natural’ was at its best when ordered into patterns. For when nature is subdued in this manner, we can more easily claim dominion over it. In direct relation to the colonial surveying of land in New Zealand, the function of patterns - as they took form on a grid - was to enable the land to be managed by being mapped. The purpose of this was so the land could become a sellable commodity.
By their shape, ‘The Nature of Surveillance’ reveal themselves to be security cameras. Their form, however, is made by repeated patterns of indigenous flora and fauna. These pattern-forming organic motifs are similar in style to the patterned Victorian wallpaper of the times. They elude to the idea that, when in its range, we too, become a natural object moving through the camera's field of vision.
In present times, we know the stated purpose of a security camera is to record information, but what is the impact on humanity of this relentless surveillance? With our ‘tracked and traced’ movements recorded as patterns, this is juxtaposed with the interesting idea that it is within these patterns, that you also become identified. For example, in the context of facial recognition software, it is the face that becomes surveyed like land, as it is the uniqueness in the patterns of one's face that enables us to be mapped.
This work hopes to remind of the solace we once felt being inconspicuous in the landscape. Whatever side of the fence you sit on concerning the current methods of surveillance worldwide, it is undeniable that we, as a people, have an altered understanding of our freedoms. With recent global upheavals and the move to a digitally surveyed society, it is through these patterns of technology, that we have also become locatable, traceable and mappable. And as we all now know - our data becomes sellable. Our personal and private have blurred with the collective whole. Whilst more patterns of information are collected - our sense of anonymity is becoming lost.
Sean Crawford is an internationally acclaimed New Zealand sculptor known for having a multi-layered approach to his art.
Whether he is weaving stainless steel into contemporary forms, pursuing what he calls the new ‘Pacific Modern', or exploring ideas about landscape and history in meticulous multimedia, the works speak for themselves.
He graduated with a Bachelor of Design in 2003, and has been a full-time sculptor ever since.
Crawford uses a variety of materials ranging from laser-cut steel to taxidermy.
The sources of his inspiration are just as varied - the Wairarapa bush or the vibrant cultures of Central America, the woodworking techniques he learned from his boat builder father, the contradictions of New Zealand’s colonial past, the stories of Edgar Allen Poe and the paintings of Bill Hammond.
One of the highlights of Crawford’s career to date was the 2015 commissioned sculpture ‘Waiting for Hammond’, a two metre tall Huia bird set on a headland overlooking the Irish Sea. It’s a sign that his ideas, although largely home-grown, are just as relevant on the world stage.
Sean now lives in rural Carterton, north-east of Wellington, where his studio looks onto the foothills of the Tararua mountain range.
https://www.seancrawfordsculptor.com/
