TIN DRUMANTHONY DAVIES24 silkscreen prints

TIN DRUM Copyright © 2010, Anthony Davies

All rights reserved. Apart from fair dealing for the purposes

of private study, research, criticism or reviews as permitted

under the Copyright Act, no part of this publication may be

reproduced in any form without permission in writing from

the publisher.

Catalogue foreword: James N. Bade

Catalogue essays: Gabriele Esser-Hall, Edward Hanfling

Catalogue design: Jill Webster

Printer: Geon Print, Napier

Typefaces: Essay text, Univers 45 Light Designed by Adrian Frutiger

Headings, Header 17_68

Designed by Hasank

ISBN 978-0-473-17719-5

This is number of a limited edition of 100 Published by Hotspur Studio Aramoho Wanganui New Zealand October 2010

Dedication: William Crozier Artist, mentor and friend

TIN DRUMANTHONY DAVIES /

24 silkscreen prints

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Of the ten German authors who have been awarded the Nobel Prize in literature, Günter

Grass and Thomas Mann are the best known internationally. Both were catapulted to

world fame by stint of their first novels, The Tin Drum and Buddenbrooks, - both very

much novels of their youth. The official citation of the 1999 Nobel Prize awarded to Günter

Grass refers to six of his novels, but half of the text is devoted to The Tin Drum.

Although both Mann and Grass brought out some outstanding works of literature as they

matured in years, they will both undoubtedly be remembered for their first novels. When

as a student in Zurich in the 1970s I attended a reading by Günter Grass, I was astounded

by what he referred to as the huge inhibiting factor brought about by the colossal success

of The Tin Drum. He said he felt that no matter what he wrote after it, people would be

disappointed.

In the case of The Tin Drum, Grass’s popularity was undoubtedly helped by Volker

Schlöndorff’s 1978 film adaptation. Grass himself assisted in the making of the film.

Schlöndorff’s screen vocabulary is just as keen and inventive as Grass’s literary vocabulary,

and the transition from novel to film is a very successful one.

Anthony Davies’ series of prints on The Tin Drum are a homage to both the novel and

the film. They are based on some of the key scenes in the film. My favourite is Davies’

capturing the moment when Oskar, the drummer of the title, is told by a circus dwarf,

Bebra, that people like him must never be in the audience - they must be on the stage or

under the stage, but never in front of the stage.

This is one of Grass’s main messages - not to be taken in by the façade of what you see.

Look behind the façade. Too many Germans were taken in by the impressive grandeur

and spectacle of the mass Nazi rallies. In one of the most amusing scenes in the novel and

the film, Oskar hijacks a Nazi rally by hiding under the stage and, by means of his insistent

drumming, forcing the Nazi youth band to change their march rhythm into a waltz rhythm.

The result is delightful chaos.

By bold use of colour and design, Davies convincingly conveys the iconoclastic nature

of Grass’s novel. Like the film, Davies’ images originate from the first half of the novel.

Hopefully he has a sequel in mind to accommodate the rest of the novel, as I am sure he

would have just the right interpretation of the mischief Oskar wreaks as both Jesus and

Satan.

James N. Bade

Associate Professor of German

University of Auckland

JAMES N. BADE

ANTHONY DAVIES: PRINTS ON GÜNTER GRASS’S THE TIN DRUM /

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Tin Drum Series: Left– No.1 Below– No.5

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/REDISCOVERING OSKAR MATZERATH (The Tin Drum: A novel by Günther Grass) GABRIELE ESSER-HALLI am honoured to be invited to comment on the cycle of silk prints by Anthony Davies.

To begin with I will reflect on my own personal relationship with the novel and its

protagonist, Oskar. This will be followed by information about the author and responses

to the novel by critics. Finally I will attempt to show how Davies’ illustrations imbue the

figure with new meaning relevant to a contemporary audience.

Günter Grass’ picaresque novel The Tin Drum has accompanied me throughout my adult

life. I was introduced to it during my school days in the early seventies in Germany. By that

time this book, originally published in 1959, had become a classic German novel and had

managed to enhance the image of German post-war literature on the world stage. In my

early teens I was not able to understand much of the underlying metaphors and did not

quite get the subtexts and the subtle humour but I was transfixed by the way the author

evoked the atmosphere of petty bourgeois life in Germany and by the absurd leaps of

imagination evident on almost every page.

The black humour in the novel and above all the weird and wonderful nature of The

Tin Drum’s main protagonist struck a chord with me. My first acquaintance with Oskar

Matzerath was based on the description in the book.1 I created an image of the ‘boy-

man’ in my own mind. However, I am not able to recall this mental picture any more as it

has been superseded with the powerful rendition of Oskar Matzerath by David Bennent

in Volker Schlöndorff’s 1979 film with the same title. Bennent was ideally cast for this

character, as he created a type which future visual interpreters of the novel would have

to take seriously.2 My most recent encounter with Oskar Matzerath came in form of an

invitation to comment on the series of 24 silkscreen prints by Anthony Davies entitled

The Tin Drum. I am again in the presence of Oskar, the fictional figure of a great novel.

First Oskar in front of my inner eye; then Oskar represented as a moving image and now

Oskar in a series of still images chosen by Anthony Davies - my engagement with Oskar

continues.

Grass, who was born in 1927 in Gdansk had actively experienced the war and possessed

first hand knowledge of the place where the first two parts of the novel take place.3 It was

created in Paris where Grass and his wife Anna, who the novel is dedicated to, resided in

the early fifties. At the time the author wrote a poem-cycle entitled The Pillar Saint which

remained a fragment and was never published. The pillar saint is a metaphor for the silent

observer of events and a parallel with Oskar can be drawn.4 Like the saint Oskar is part of

the society in which he operates but from which he is distanced at the same time.

In the late summer of 1952, Grass actually encountered his tin drummer. He noticed a

three year old boy playing his tin drum while surrounded by people drinking coffee and

having cake. Grass noticed that the three year old was focussed on his tin-drum. He was

lost in his own thoughts and oblivious to the company around him. His drum was his

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Tin Drum Series: Right– No.4 Below– No.9

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world. This particular moment in time must have taken hold in Grass’ memory to only

re-emerge three years later in 1956 when he began the work on his new novel. This is an

appropriate example of how a literary figure is born. The moment in real time experienced

by a sharp mind translated into a fictional personae, which carries high metaphorical

significance.5

The ambiguous character of Oskar Matzerath defies clear-cut interpretation. The reader

meets him still in the womb contemplating whether he should enter this world. The only

incentive to live is his mother’s promise of a tin drum on this third birthday. On that day,

in possession of his treasured tin drum, his unease with the misery and shame of adult

existence becomes manifest. He is disgusted to see that his third birthday celebrations are

a mere excuse for the adults to get drunk, play cards and in the case of his mother and

his alleged father, Jan Bronski to flirt openly without any consideration for the wedded

spouse. He stops growing. Davies shows this scene in Image No.11 (page 20) when

Oskar has plummet down on the cellar floor.

“I remained the three-year-old, the gnome, the Tom Thumb, the pigmy, the

Lilliputian, the midget, whom no one could persuade to grow. I did so in order

to be exempted from the big and little catechism and in order not, once

grown to five-foot-eight adulthood, to be driven by this man [Matzerath] who

face to face with his shaving mirror called himself my father, into a business,

the grocery business, which as Matzerath saw it, would, when Oskar turned

twenty-one, become his grownup world. To avoid playing the cash register

I clung to my drum and from my third birthday on refused to grow by so much

as a finger’s breadth. I remained the precocious three-year-old, towered over

by grownups but superior to all grownups, who refused to measure his

shadow with theirs, who was complete both inside and outside, while they,

to the very brink of the grave, were condemned to worry their heads about

“development,” who had only to confirm what they were compelled to gain by

hard and often painful experience, and who had no need to change his shoe

and trouser size year after year just to prove that something was growing.”6

Is he a benign sage who has insights into the secrets of life or merely a stunted man

with a ‘small-men-complex’ determined to achieve dominance and power? Is he jealous

of Hitler – a fellow ‘midget’ who managed to rule the world, albeit for 12 years only?

Schlöndorff in his 2004 interview relates a conversation with Grass about the meaning

of the scene where Oskar plays the waltz tune under the rostrum during the parade

which puts the SS brass band out of their stroke. At first sight this action looks like a

revolutionary measure against Fascism but should not be interpreted as such. It is the

desire of Oskar to ‘call the tune’ himself and show his dominance.7

Is the protagonist of The Tin Drum a Mephistophelean character, the spirit that denies’

who always wants good and always creates the evil?8 Sometimes he is a mere observer

of the morals of his immediate environment. At others he grows into a wise commentator

of the wider political events that shaped pre- and post-war Germany. His insights are

revealing, astute and pertinent. His clarity of understanding is lost to the adult world

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Tin Drum Series: Top– No.15 Below– No.7

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because they do not take him seriously. But for all is precocious wisdom Oskar is not a

sage. He makes mistakes and is vulnerable. He does get involved, especially in the matters

of the heart but mostly he is a mere distant observer without connecting. He behaves like a

child with very childish tantrums that can be quite destructive at times. He has the world in

the palm of his hand on one level because people have to give him what he wants for fear

of immediate reprisal and destruction of their environment. When Oskar gets angry there is

no discussion or stopping his shrill voice that makes glass explode.

The German author Hans Magnus Enzensberger credits Grass with creating the ‘Aura

des Miefs’, which loosely translates as ‘the aura of stuffy provincial atmosphere’ where

security and apathy, fear of the unknown, racism and xenophobia are rife. Atrocities such

as the ones committed in the Third Reich become possible in this climate and its prevailing

world view. Thus not only the direct perpetrators of the atrocities are guilty of what

happened but everybody who lived through that time. Grass does apportion collective guilt

whereby nobody is excluded from the shame. Oskar, with the help of his little tin drum,

is the commentator of this all pervasive and ultimately destructive ‘Aura des Miefs’. It is

the mindset – not the social class – of the petit bourgeoisie who makes history by ‘letting

things’ happen.

The focal figure in Anthony Davies’ series of 24 prints is Oskar. The key question in this

context is: Does the character of Oskar, the crippled drummer possess enough depth to be

relevant in circumstances beyond those of the historical framework of Germany? If this is

the case, and I will argue that it is, we need to ask: In what way does the artist make those

images relevant and contemporaneous with the audience? For Anthony Davies himself,

despite his interest in German expressionist art is geographically as well as generationally

removed from the events that form the essence of the novel?

The presentation of Oskar in the print cycle is based on the actor David Bennent. Because

these are free standing prints – no direct illustrations to the text -, they do not have to

adhere to a narrative sequence. The 24 illustrations thus follow the rhythm of the novel

which is not linear either.10

As one cannot assume that the audience is familiar with the book or the film, the

fascination with and interest in the figure needs to be provoked in a way that appeals to

the audience. The contemporary familiar medium of silkscreen printing which has strong

connotations to Pop Art is a good point of departure to engage interest. The colours evoke

emotional responses and the figure is strong enough to make people curious and take

notice.

The tiled interiors kept throughout the cycle form a visual ‘backstory’ within the illustrations

and provide them with a strong underlying meaning, reminiscent of institutional

environments. They reek of that kind of cleanliness promoted by the Nazis that emphasised

the supremacy of the white race associated with cleanliness over the Jewish race which

in Nazi propaganda was seen equal to dirty rats. They also fit into the ‘concept of the ‘Aura

des Miefs’ examined above and are thus still relevant today.

Anthony Davies managed to capture the kaleidoscopic nature of Oskar’s life and character.

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Tin Drum Series: Left– No.2 Below– No.12

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This is visually expressed in the various colour backgrounds as well as in the flamboyant

lines employed in the prints. There is a translucency to some figures. They blend with

the background – a specific stylistic feature of the printmaker.11 Oskar is a dreamer, a

power hungry man, a passionate lover, a cynic, an observer, at times even an activist

but beyond all of this he is depicted here as a vulnerable human being. This makes him

contemporaneous with the reader who can empathise with him – even if this figure is not

likable on many levels.

For a contemporary audience who has not read the book or indeed seen the film these

prints are still relevant, and they can still speak to them on that general level of human

compassion as participants of the human condition here manifest in the figure of the

drummer. Davies makes this visible by allowing the figure to take up a considerable

amount of space in each print. The background colours reflect his mood combined with

the mood of the situation depicted.

The printmaker takes the viewer into the diversity of Oskar’s character by establishing a

thematic rhythm from the contemplative through to the childish- aggressive and active.

The position of the tin drum follows a specific wavy pattern throughout the illustrations.

Consequently the object becomes as eloquent as the figure. It is always shown in a

dominant place and functions almost like a brand to identify the drummer and what he

stands for. In the first illustration (page 3) Oskar is shown marching with his instrument,

his body is turned away from the viewer and his position is such that he seems to lead

the viewer on into the story. One leg looks disabled which gives us a framework for his

physical condition.

The penultimate scene (No. 23, page 15) shows the card players in the Gdansk Post

Office. The moment borders on the surreal as the fatally wounded and dying man is still

forced to play. He is able to postpone his death by getting interested in the game but he

needs to be harnessed so he does not fall over. We see Oskar in the middle, distanced

from the other two players in childish concentration oblivious of the drama taking place

around him. His tin drum functions as a candle holder. The lack of his involvement

on a human level is evident in this illustration. The dark green space around him feels

threatening and enhances the unsettling nature of this event.

No.19 (page 11) shows a jealous Oskar who wants to destroy the foetus that Maria

carries in her womb. He attacks her with a pair of scissors but Maria discovers what he is

attempting to do and prevents him by holding his arm tight. Here Oskar is surrounded by

clutter and pattern of interior furniture and clothing. He is trapped. His drum reflects his

powerlessness and lies discarded in the corner. The colour reflects the aggressive mood of

this scene which at the same time has a sombre quality to it.

In No.10 (page 11) the drum is in action. This illustration shows the group of children,

following Oskar and singing a popular nursery rhyme about a black cook/witch. It is a

traditional round dance which is played by a group of children, the last one in the round is

the black cook/witch who is reviled by the others. Oskar with his drum is taking the lead

in this game and marches ahead. He is again separated from his peers. He is the outsider

who is afraid of the black cook/witch. The turquoise background fits with the mood of

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Tin Drum Series: Top– No.19 Below– No.10

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childish playing.

No.18 and No.20 (page 13) show Oskar in action. Now he is a mere child with a childish

tantrum. He defends his drum when the doctor and the school teacher want to take it away.

His body language in both illustrations is aggressive. The purple of and blue backgrounds

function here to offset the yellow/red stripes of the tin drum.

No.24 (page 22) shows him in the process of parting with the tin drum and consequently

leaving a part of his personality behind. This is an unusually patterned and busy print. There

is an aura of the outward adult about the person of Oskar, a resignation that comes with

age.

To conclude, these series of 24 prints by Anthony Davies add a new meaning to the

novel in that they portray an aspect of Oskar Matzerath’s character that is not explicitely

addressed in the novel. They show that it is possible to take a figure from a work of fiction

and imbue it with characteristics that go beyond the directly intended ones of the original

author. These illustrations can be categorized as exemplifying illustrations because they are

a commentary to the text which the written word cannot provide.12

The final words, however should be left with Oskar/Grass:

“What more shall I say: born under light bulbs, deliberately stopped growing

at age of three, given drum, sang glass to pieces, smelled vanilla, coughed

in churches, observed ants, decided to grow, buried drum, emigrated to the

West, lost the East, learned stonecutter’s trade, worked as model, started

drumming again, visited concrete, made money, kept finger, gave finger

away, fled laughing, rode up escalator, arrested, convicted, sent to mental

hospital, soon to be acquitted, celebrating this day my thirtieth birthday and

1 The author who is an accomplished print maker in his own right – evident in his illustrations to The Flounder (1977) – did not illustrate his early novels.

2 John Tenniel’s visual interpretations of characters in Alice in Wonderland are still followed by current illustrators who show Alice, Humpty Dumpty and The Mad Hatter similar to the 1st edition of 1865.

3 His revelation that he was a member of the Waffen SS shocked the country in 2006 because the myth of the squeaky clean writer had to be dispersed. Now even Grass was one of them. This is a good example of how recent German history penetrates into every aspect of life and nobody is spared. How could somebody who was considered the voice of morality in Germany be credible any more?

4 The loneliness of the pillar saint can be compared to Oskar’s fear of the world and his desire to return to the womb.

5 http://www.referate10.com/referate/Literatur/47/Die-Blechtrommel-referat-reon.php accessed 29.3.2010

6 The Tin Drum, Chapter 4, pg. 60-61

7 Volker Schlöndorff (2004) in: The Tin Drum, Criterion Collection DVD

8 Goethe Faust

9 Enzensberger, H.-M. (1962) Einzelheiten, Frankfurt/Main, p. 224

10 However, these illustrations could appear as a visual accompaniment to the printed version.

11 A more in-depth description of technique and visual composition lies without the remit of this essay.

12 Hermeren, G. (1969) Representation and Meaning in the Visual Arts. Lund, p. 63ff

13 Grass (1959) Tin Drum, p.587

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Tin Drum Series: Left– No.18 Below– No.20

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EDWARD HANFLING

ANTHONY DAVIES: TIN DRUM /Several ‘I’ words are frequently used to describe a work of art in relation to its (individual)

creator: imagination; invention; intensity. These qualities aptly describe a new series of 24

silkscreen prints by Anthony Davies – his response to Günter Grass’s 1959 novel, The Tin

Drum. Intensity emanates from the series as a whole. Each print packs a punch of its own,

but when they are seen together the colours leap about, the lines wriggle and weave.

There is no breathing space. There is an unsettling succession of highly charged visual

sensations. The atmosphere is heady and hallucinatory.

Though particular episodes from the novel are represented, Davies does not spell out,

or even summarise, Grass’s narrative. Rather, he creates an equivalent, illustrating its

vivid mood, its overall feeling, and drawing as much from the 1978 film adaptation

as from the novel itself. He treats this source material the same as he treats his more

customary New Zealand subjects; and previous forays into the medium of silkscreen have

featured similarly heightened colours. However, the new works have some striking new

characteristics, not least the considerable range of drawing techniques employed.

From the first print, simple lines form distinctive shapes and patterns with a life of their

own: short, vaguely canoe-shaped curves; a blocky pattern of fat, open, curling shapes;

a series of smaller, closed lines. Succeeding images introduce a host of other patterns

– a restless procession of formal shifts in keeping with the sense of agitation within the

images themselves. In No. 7, (page 7) we find tiny, roughly circular and roughly square

shapes, often in pairs and placed within what look like square parentheses. In the next

image, No. 8, (page 22) closely spaced vertical lines appear for the first time, as a form of

shading or shadow; these are used more systematically in No.14 (page 15) and especially

so in No.16 (page 17) and No.20 (page 13). No.15 (page 7) features a prone figure filled

in with ‘x’s – a device also used in No.17 (page 20) and No.18 (page13). What Davies is

doing is establishing an extensive pictorial vocabulary based on linear marks that can be

grasped immediately.

This mark-making means much. The marks in themselves look simple, but they are

part of a complex set-up and generate complex layers of association. Similarly, Oskar’s

drum is a simple but potent motif in Grass’s text. The beating of a drum is a primitive,

straightforward action, intuitive, innocent, direct, sudden. The same could be said of

the sound that occurs if anyone tries to separate Oskar from his drum: he emits an

ear-splitting, glass-shattering scream. However, what happens around Oskar’s drum is

far from simple or innocent: interweaving narratives, a multiplicity of ramifications and

possible interpretations. All this is no less true of Davies’ prints. The drum is a constant,

picked out in yellow and red – a sudden impact, a repeated blow, an insistent beat. It is a

consistently simple motif in an otherwise intensely complex series of images.

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Tin Drum Series: Top– No.23 Below– No.14

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In simple terms, the images are colour-fields, drawn upon – strung together – with yellow

and red, and with an inconspicuous amount of un-inked white getting in amongst the

colours. Within each print, the coloured drawing interacts with the dominant colour to

create additional colours. In No.15 (page 7), the blue ground becomes purple where it

interacts with the red ink, and this in turn causes the two figures to jump forward of the

blue and white ground. In No.5 (page 3) and No.6 (page 21), grey is affected by yellow

drawing, so that the uniforms of the figures assume a khaki, military quality. No.10 (page

11) and No.22 (page 18), bright yellow ink is made to look more like a pale lemon yellow

because of the intermingling of the white ground. No.19 (page 11 ) appears to be an

exquisite orchestration of lemon yellow, pale pink and brown, though in fact this is an

effect produced through the collusion of bright yellow, red, brown and the judicious

use of white. Overall, colour is lurid, heightened, not merely pleasing or beautiful in any

conventional sense. Colour speaks; it forms a narrative, at turns rowdy and sombre, rich

or shrill. And those dominant, saturated hues repeatedly pound the eye; each print is like

another hefty thump of Oskar’s drum.

A drum generates a noise, which in itself is nothing more nor less than noise, as distinct

from the part that it might play in a larger percussive or musical whole – for instance,

the jazz music for which Oskar eventually develops a proclivity. The raw sound is not

meaningful in itself, except as a primitive phenomenon. Insofar as something is physically

present, it has the potential to be disruptive and intrusive. The sound of Oskar’s drum,

and of his piercing scream (not easily avoided), make no sense in terms of the usual

events and systems of society. They are a challenge to those systems, beyond control

and explanation. This idea was central to modernism. Numerous twentieth century artists

tried to regain a child-like spontaneity, and a direct impact on the viewer, by casting off the

traditional and conventional sophistications of ‘high’ art.

However, in the wake of World War Two, there emerged suspicions about simple

solutions. Grass’s The Tin Drum is a good example, since it refuses to allow the viewer to

identify, or identify with, characters who are unequivocally ‘goodies’ or ‘baddies’. Oskar

himself is responsible for people’s deaths. He is caught up in Nazism, which is construed

as an appalling social phenomenon rather than as a set of evil individuals. What the novel

‘means’ (its ramifications for human morality) is left open.

The return to figurative styles on the part of German painters in the 1970s and 1980s, also

reflects the waning of modernist beliefs. Those European countries that witnessed the

rise of fascism, or the dangers of communism, also saw the limitations of idealism – the

futility of utopian plans, the frightening ease with which a perfectly organised society

could flip over into an imperfect, indeed repressive, political order. Within the art-world

it was perceived that, within ‘high’ modernist abstraction in the United States, striving

for an art of pure form had led to a similarly controlled and regulated situation. The so-

called ‘formalist’ critic, Clement Greenberg, was cast as a kind of Hitler of the art-world.

Resulting from this (albeit skewed) perception was a greater heterogeneity of styles.

Moreover, what an artwork could ‘mean’ became a more open proposition.

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Tin Drum Series: Top– No.16 Left– No.21

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Tin Drum Series: Right– No.22 Below– No.13

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In his Tin Drum series, Davies deliberately sets up a relationship with German art – the

new figurative painting of the late 1970s and 1980s as well as more recent painting.

On one level, he is pointing out an affinity between such paintings and Grass’s writing,

insofar as they share a sense of anxiety about how to come to terms with the actions of

German people under the Nazi regime. But he is declaring an affinity too between his

own approach to making art and that of the German painters, moulding those common

sensibilities back onto the earlier literary style of Grass’s novel.

Of relevance here is the work of Jörg Immendorff, best known for his crowded and

tumultuous Cafe Deutschland paintings. Immendorff was in some ways old fashioned,

with his heightened but essentially ‘realist’ style, and his acting out of the age-old role of

the artist as rebel and outsider. This latter ‘expressionist’ dimension had a precedent in

the art of the American Abstract Expressionists, particularly Jackson Pollock. However,

in the work of a number of German artists, the impulsive, dramatic strain was leavened

with a knowingness that was central to Pop Art of the 1960s, and an attempt to court

multiple interpretations or ‘readings’ in line with the popular ‘post-modernist’ ideas of the

time. Above all, there was a conspicuous return to figuration, albeit tortured into various

stylisations and distortions. The latter is apparent in the work of A.R. Penck, with his

‘primitive’ simplifications of form. Colour, in the work of these German painters, tends

towards a deliberate and harsh garishness. As with Davies, the intention seems to be, at

least in part, to unsettle the viewer, or at least suggest an unsettled state of mind.

Amongst contemporary German artists, Daniel Richter’s recent ‘realist’ paintings have a

comparable overwhelming sense of flux. Like Davies’ prints, they are characterised by

linear complexity, arising from the layering and interweaving of pictorial motifs within a

single cohesive image. Nothing can be pinned down, or separated out, from the whole

soup of struggling, swimming life. Davies’ own style of mark-making fluctuates. In the

first four images, figures (usually Oskar) are rendered as silhouette-like but transparent,

ghostly figures. As the series goes on, the style is modified, with more emphasis on

specific details – clothing, facial features. It is not unusual for Davies’ style to evolve as

he works through a set of prints. Davies’ personal style, his identity or individuality as an

artist, his imagination, his invention and his intensity – these things are bound up in the

narrative that unfolds in his prints.

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Tin Drum Series: Left– No.17 Below– No.11

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Tin Drum Series: Right– No.3 Below– No.6

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Tin Drum Series: Right– No.8 Below– No.24

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BIOGRAPHY

Born in Hampshire, England, Anthony did his training at Winchester School of Art under

William Crozier, the Royal College of Art, London and the ‘Prix de Rome’ in Engraving.

After which he set up his own print workshop in Cardiff, South Wales and later in

Belfast, Northern Ireland. He has had over 85 one-person exhibitions and 20 two-person

exhibitions and represented Great Britain at numerous print biennials overseas.

He was elected a fellow of the Royal Society of Painters and Etchers in 1994. Anthony was

Artist in Residence at Elam School of Fine Art, Auckland in 1994 and visiting professor

at Florida State University in 1995. In 2002 he founded the Hotspur Studio in Wanganui

where he presently lives and produces his prints.

Since immigrating to New Zealand in 1995 he has produced various series of work:

Series of Prints 1996 – 2010

1996-98 Introduction to New Zealand. Colonial/Urban/Rural/Death

1999 God’s Country Landscapes

2000 Border Crossings/Journey through the Takapau Plains *

2000 Kaimanawa Horses *

2001 Border Crossings– Waihi in memory of

2001 Border Crossings– Epitaph for an unknown grave

2001 Border Crossings– Self portrait out of Eden

2001 Border Crossings– Winged angels

2002 An Odyssey– Karangahape Rd, NZ to Canal St NY *

2002-03 Blood, Sweat and Oil– Landscape of Fear; Operation Legitimate Target *

2003 Picturing People– 36 small paintings *

2003 Aramoho I and II

2003-04 Twin Towers– Wanganui *

2004 The Fall of Icarus – South Beach

2004-05 Camouflage with Attitude *

2005-06 Crossroads– A Family Portrait *

2006-07 The Ballad of Brusnwick Park, part I and II

2007-08 Olympians

2007-08 The Land of Oz

2008-10 Aotearoa

2009 Tin Drum *

2010 Closing the Gaps

*denotes publications

24

Tin Drum

Series of 24 silkscreen prints inspired by the groundbreaking novel of Günter Grass and

the subsequently inspired film directed by Volker Schlöndorff.

All prints are approximately A4 format. Paper size 35cm x 50cm.

Printed on: Incisioni 190gsm. Edition of 12

Numbers 1 – 12 Drawn and printed, UCOL, Wanganui

Numbers 12 – 24 Drawn and printed, EIT Hawke’s Bay, Napier (Artist in Residence

Programme)

Artist wishes to thank staff and senior printmaking students of both campus for their

interest and cooperation with the project.

List of Exhibtions: Tin Drum

Solander Gallery, Wellington

Paulette Robinson, Kyla Cresswell, Vincent Drane

Porcine Gallery, Whangarei

Evon Morgan

Vent Gallery, EIT Hawke’s Bay

Ian Stuart, Mazin Bahho, Jill Webster

Bill Milbank Gallery, Wanganui

Two person exhibition with Kirsty Lillico

Bill Milbank, Rowan Gardner, Greg Simpson

Ramp Gallery, Wintec, Hamilton

Two person exhibition with Gary Venn

Geoff Clarke, Edward Hanfing, Margi Moore, Stuart Shepherd

Aratoi, Wairarapa Museum of Art and History, Masterton

Nick Banks, Bronwyn Reid

Acknowledgements

Andrea du Chatenier, Jo Ann Stoneley, Edward Hanfling,

Jim Bade, Gabby Esser-Hall, Katy Corner,

Geothe Institute, Wellington

Lisa Berndt

This project is made possible by the

generous support of Clare and David Cryer

Gabriele Esser-Hall I received my doctorate from the University of Göttingen/Germany and have worked as a Lecturer in Contextual Studies at the School of Art, University of Northampton UK and School of Media Arts, Waikato Institute of Technology, Hamilton, New Zealand. I am a Freelance Writer and Art Historian.

My interests are: Visual Text Interpretations, Hermeneutics, Aesthetics and the Philosophy of Art and Pottery.

I have published in current art education journals and published two books:’Visual Text interpretation in Victorian Children’s books’ and a guide for German immigrants to New Zealand (both in

Edward Hanfling Edward Hanfling has a doctorate from the University of Auckland, teaches at Wintec’s School of Media

Arts in Hamilton, and writes regular reviews for Art

New Zealand. He is co-author (with Alan Wright) of

Mrkusich: The Art of Transformation (AUP, 2009), and has curated exhibitions for galleries that include the Gus Fisher Gallery, Auckland, City Gallery Wellington and Nelson’s Suter Gallery. His essays and reviews have featured in a range of publications including the

Burlington Magazine, the Journal of New Zealand Art

History and the Australian Artlink journal.

James Bade James Bade is Associate Professor of German and Head of the Department of German and Slavonic Studies in the School of European Languages and Literatures of the University of Auckland. His research specialisations are in modern German literature and the German connection with New Zealand and the Pacific. He is Director of the University of Auckland Research Centre for Germanic Connections with New Zealand and editor of the

academic series Germanica Pacifica, published by Peter Lang Verlag, Frankfurt.