In the latest in our series about Kiwis in the second half of life, we talk to Liz Maw, one of New Zealand’s best-known artists, whose work features in private collections, Auckland Art Gallery and Te Papa. A self-described “sunshine goth” who grew up in Hawke’s Bay, the 60 year old has rented the same home in Mount Eden for 25 years.
I have one exhibition a year, get paid in a lump sum, and live off the proceeds for the rest of the year. I manage, but I'm pretty hopeless at spending. I spend more the less I have. I've put some away in my KiwiSaver and I'm proud that I’ve been able to do that.
I have a really small output because I take so long. A show usually has three to five works: one big one, which sells for about $130,000; and the rest smaller (about $30,000). My dealer decides my prices, and it’s a good year if I sell everything. But I only get 60% of that money, the rest goes to my dealer. And then I have to pay around 30% in tax, because I'm a sole trader. But I’m grateful because many artists are a lot worse off than me.
I'm not the kind of painter that can go to my studio for three months before a show and whip some work out. A big one can take me seven, eight months. People say, why don’t you just do another couple of small paintings? But I don't want to because everything I do, I want it to be done to my idea of perfection and that takes time.
I get up at 5:30am. I do admin, check my emails, do exercises and yoga poses. I start work about 9am then I finish at 5.30pm. I eat lunch basically on the run. So it’s eight hours a day, five days a week.
I have side projects too, like I’m making a sound box for my band, but I really should rest my hands. I’ve got two different hand supports for RSI and arthritis in my thumb, and I'm on and off anti-inflammatories all the time. There might come a day where I’m in some kind of orthopaedic chair but I'm going do it till I drop. There's no retiring as an artist.
I’m so preoccupied with my painting, there doesn’t seem to be any space/time in my brain to think about managing my money. I just get lost in it. Sometimes I realise I'm hungry and walk in a distracted state down to the deli and end up spending $20 on a sandwich. That's the constant state I'm in: a deer caught in the headlights.
I hated school. I was ADHD and had learning disabilities. I couldn't read a clock until I was 15. Every year I would go, OK, I'm going to do my schoolwork and do well, and then three weeks in I’d be put at the back of the class or sent out, just given that delinquent label, I guess. And I think if you have trauma or emotional problems, like I did, it’s really hard to focus.
The last thing I wanted to do was be an artist. I thought they were freaks. But one day we were in the hall and they called me up to the front, and I thought oh no, I'm about to get scolded in front of the whole school. But I actually won the fourth form art prize. And then I realised, oh God, I'm one of them.
When I did my first course at Hawke’s Bay Polytech, Introduction to Art and Craft, I found my community. I didn't even realise there were people that lived as artists. I worked at Dulux paint factory while I was a student and did a bit of dishwashing at cafés.
I applied twice to do a Master’s degree at Elam and wasn't successful, but then somebody helped me get in. At polytech I'd had so much freedom to just go my own way, whereas Elam was more of a critical environment. I’m more of a carrot than a stick person. But I wouldn’t have been seen by a good dealer if I wasn't at Elam so I'm grateful for that.
I've never been fashionable. My painting has existed outside that realm of ‘in’ and ‘out’. I've always thought that’s a good thing because it makes you do more art. My only ambition or dream is perpetuity. I got a little brass plate made for the back of my new painting because I don't want anyone to mistake who did it in the future. That’s if it doesn’t end up in a skip!
My landlord is lovely. I've been his tenant for about 25 years. Without him I would never have been able to get as far as I have. I've got a beautiful garden because he's let me do whatever I want to it. But he’s getting older and I don't know how long much longer I'm going to be allowed to stay here. I don't know what I'll do. I think, more than anything, I'll just be sad.
Some people have shit jobs, some have great jobs, but that doesn’t mean they enjoy them. There’s a lovely young guy who works at a restaurant next door, and he’s in the kitchen from 5am to 5.30, 6.30 at night, at least six days a week. I was out on my deck having a coffee one morning and asked him, do you like your job? And he said yeah, I actually really love it. So you can't patronise people. I can't feel sorry for him because he doesn't want me to.
The subjects of my paintings [e.g. musicians Beck Coogan, Clementine and Valentine, Beth Dawson] – they're all women that I admire, that are part of my community. I'm these people's fans. They're not portraits. It's like I'm casting them for a role in a movie. Some are portraits though, for example I did one of Jacinda Ardern before she was elected MP. I went to a dinner at [fashion designer] Jimmy D’s place on K Road, and I met her there. I was like, I've got to paint her. It was prophetic!
My work gives my life meaning. Relationships didn't work out and I never wanted children. I feel lucky that I've been able to do this. Every year, it's like putting all my money in the casino – with my paintings as my money – and hoping that I win. And I always wonder when my luck's going to run out. But I look back on my work, and I'm always moving and getting better at painting. So I hope that I don’t pop my clogs too soon because I’m only just starting to get better.
As told to Julie Hill.
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