Fred GrahamWell, I don't really know, except that I was just told by my son that we were going to participate. I've gotten to the age where I do what I'm told [laughs]. No, when he mentioned it, I was very pleased, because to be able to exhibit again with him was something special as far as I was concerned. 

FGYes, we have, in New Zealand mainly. 

FGYes.

FGNo, I left it all to Brett. I'm 95. I've gotten to the stage of life, where I'm past getting excited about much these days. You know, people have said to me, when you say you're an artist, “What do you do for a living?” And in my case, I taught. I'm very grateful to be able to help young, budding artists, like Brett, my son, and others. Because in New Zealand, it's a pretty tough road to go on; to be successful really in any of the arts, whether you're a singer or an opera singer or a dancer, you usually have to go overseas to make a bit of a name for yourself and then come home.

FGI can remember when, as a small child, a fellow who could just walk, he (Brett) walked into the studio one day and picked up one of my small sculptures and that became his teddy bear. The other two siblings are Kathryn and Gary. We call them the KGB [laughs]. The other two had teddy bears, and he slept with this small sculpture. After he'd left the studio with this thing under his arm, I walked over to the studio, and I said to his mother, “I've got some bad news for you.” And she said, “What's that?” I said, “Your youngest son, I think he wants to be an artist.” And of course, being a mother, she said, “He can be whatever he wants to be.” And I said, “What's he going to do for a living?” And she said, “We'll sort that out later.” 

So, I've always been aware of trying to help young artists. I can remember one particular artist (Nigel Brown), who's now a prominent artist in New Zealand. I said to his parents that I thought he could make it. And they said, “What’s he going to do for a living?” And I said, “Good point.” He went to art school. He was the top student at art school. Guess what his first job was? Postman. When he told me, I said, “Well, I hope I won't meet your mother and father for a while, until you're established.” But, that's one of the joys I've had as an artist; to help young people achieve something in their art. 

FGYes, it is special, and especially for New Zealanders as one of the big things that we're well aware of in New Zealand, the Biennale in Venice. 

FGIt's been great. With Brett, now that he's getting established, I'm quite happy to move into the background. I've always been well aware of this quotation, “Today's headlines are tomorrow's fish and chip wrappers.” I said, “I'm quite content to be a fish wrapper now that it's your turn to take the stage.” Although, I’m still working. As long as you're able to, you might as well keep going.

FGYes. It's something for the younger ones to aspire to. I've always encouraged them to look at work and say, “I can do better than that.” And I always say, “Well, just stop talking about it and do it!” Brett doesn't think I'm a very good artist, because when he or the other two would ask me to draw something, if it was a donkey, I'd do six legs and four tails, things like that. They'd always say, “I can do better than that. That's terrible.” And they'd go off and do their own thing. 

FGIt's like anything else. You get more thrills out of helping people than helping yourself.

FGWe all ended up teaching art through going to teachers' college. Each one of us had our own reason for going to teachers' college, because I don't think any one of us wanted to have a career in art, because of being poorly paid and so on; things being so uncertain. A lot of us became teachers or decided we wanted to become teachers. At that time, the people involved in the [Education] Department were interested in various things. One of the things they were interested in was art, backing the arts and also looking at Indigenous art, and so they created this training scheme to teach art teachers. That's how a lot of us became art teachers and then eventually artists, and, as a result of that, we also got to know each other. That's how I got to know prominent artists in New Zealand, like Ralph Hotere and Cliff Whiting and Sandy Adsett, who's with me (in the Biennale). And of course, being Māori, it just added another dimension. The three of us were all what were called Art Specialists in the schools. 

FGMāori sculpture, or carving, was very restrictive in the sense [that] it never told stories, but it had what we call pou (post, pole or support) or statues of the people involved, rather than explaining why those people were famous. Māori were very good at oratory because they had no written language, and the only other form of expressing things was through art. But, then again, it was very restrictive, and, as a result of being restrictive, it became very decorative: all the pou or figures around the meeting houses, all carved figures of these various heroes in Māori mythology and Māori stories. So, as a result of going to art school and going to teachers college, and being involved with reading and looking at people's work like Barbara Hepworth and Henry Moore and so on, we started looking at art from a different angle. We started to evolve our own form of art as a result of mixing both together. Because to me, as far as I'm concerned, we should be expressing life as the time we're living it, because in turn it becomes history. That’s how it actually happened. We had mixed the two cultures together.

FGNo. I just assumed, because my father worked in power stations, that I'd finish up and work at power stations. I really became a teacher by accident, because at the end of the duty of teaching, I said to the art lecturer that I thought I'd probably go to art school or something, because I couldn't teach all of these subjects. They’d created this new art specialism. But, then I found that I really enjoyed it. The other thing was that, because I'd played rugby nationally and internationally, I had no problem teaching. Art's not usually associated with rugby.

FGIn my day, when I played first-class rugby, only two other artists played first-class rugby at the same time. The three of us were friends. So, I was just a normal person to a lot of people, because I played rugby, not someone with a paintbrush in his hand!

FGNot really. One of the things I've always been grateful for is my friends, who encouraged me by liking my work and asking me to do something for them. A lot of the work that I did, if they hadn't asked me, would probably never have been made. Normally, you have a reason for doing things, and so I've always been grateful for them. But, one of problems was that when I acquired a name, they wouldn't ask me anymore because it cost too much, and I’d always say, “How much do you want to pay? I'll do it for nothing if you like, as long as you shut up,” or something, you know. You’d make a smart remark. And they'd say, “Oh, $50 or $25.” But, of course, ultimately, what I do is take over. The money wasn't important, actually, because I was always reminding myself that I'd have to live with it. That's why I always tell students, “Don't sign your early works, you’ll come back to regret it.”

I remember doing a sculpture for my sister’s wedding. It was a Māori hero, you know, he was responsible for fishing up New Zealand. If he didn’t have a muscle, I’d put one there. He had so many muscles, and he couldn’t move anyway, but he looked good at the time. But, every time I looked at him, I’d turn away. I said, “For goodness sake, don’t tell anyone I did that.” I said, “I’ll swap you for another one,” and she said, “No, you’ll leave it alone, because you’re going to burn it.” That’s what happens when you’re in the early stages, but after a while, you start developing, and you only put in things that are relevant. You don’t put in things because they look pretty or whatever.

FGThat's right. Those four [works], the earlier ones, they were all done for friends. Mind you, they were the only ones who asked me to do anything anyway. Until later on, you acquire a reputation of some kind and people who could afford them start giving you commissions. 

FGYes. The thing is though, with those four works, I didn't select them, they were selected by whoever was responsible. I've always been interested in birds and fish and so on, and The Children of Tangaroa (Ngā Tamariki a Tangaroa, 1971) was flounder, because I've always liked stingrays and rays, the triangular shapes of those particular fish. That was a development, when I started to play around with triangles and so on. Once I decided on a subject, then it took over and then I could consider everything on there that was there for a reason, not just because it looked pretty. 

FGNo, I started doing a lot of painting, painting old houses and things. But, after a while, when I was at teachers college, I helped a friend of mine who was my boss, the head of the department. I helped him with his sculptures. He was doing moulds and bronzes and became very interested in three-dimensional stuff, so that's when I turned from painting into carving and then ultimately into outdoor sculptures and so on. One of my original [jobs] was a cartoonist. I did cartoons for papers. There's another very famous New Zealand cartoonist called Murray Ball. He and I worked on the same paper in the Manawatū, Palmerston North. He did the everyday cartoons. I did the sports from the weekend. I don't do any more cartoons. I just mainly developed stainless steel work.

FGWe have words with each other sometimes. I comment on some of his sculptures and he comments on mine, and we just smile. I always have a go at him, because he does such big works. I always say, “You can always tell who his friends are. They've all got bad backs.” No, I get amazed that he does some very, very fine stuff as well. Some of his work is quite impressive really. 

FGThat's right. I would have liked to have gone over. I'd been to Venice before, but I'd like to have gone over this time. My wife, Brett’s mother—we’ve been married for 67 years—and she has dementia. So, I go up and see her every day in the afternoon, and it's very hard to come to terms with that. But, I've been very grateful to the women who commissioned my very first works. My wife, for instance. I came in and she said, “What's wrong?” And I was deep in thought, but I said, “I'm going to do a stained-glass window.” I said, “I'll design it, but I don't know who will make it.” I said, “The last one I designed was in Wellington.” And of course I had no control over the thing at first. And she said, “I'll make it.” Of course, my wife was a phys-ed school teacher, very keen on sports. I said, “What do you mean you'll make it?” She said, “I'll go to an evening class and learn how to make stained glass windows.” She did. So, she made it. When it was erected, I was so pleased and proud of it. I said, “You should do more with the stained glass window.” She looked at me and said, “I've got more to do with my nights than muck around and make stained glass windows.” So, she never did any more. Mind you, I haven't done any more stained glass windows either, because I wasn't that keen on them. 

But, you know, I've always been very grateful to the women that have played a part in helping my career, because they were wanting to see fountains and sculptures. In New Zealand, all [that] the men were interested in was rugby, racing and beer [laughs]. I'm still amazed at the number of people that are really crazy on rugby and sport in New Zealand. That's the way we are, I suppose. 

FGYes. I've been a judge here and there, in Zimbabwe and places. It's enabled me to meet all kinds of people and just to realise that ordinary people are very much the same in every country. They just want the same things. I just can't believe what's happening in Palestine and these places now. People killing each other. It's just terrible. 

But, to me, all these cultures merge together and form a new group, because it's the way we are. I was one of the three people who designed the 1990 symbol for the Treaty of Waitangi [sesquicentennial], the treaty signed in 1840 by New Zealand and the British government. I chose a kōtuku, which is the heron. It’s not a New Zealand bird, but it's a foreign bird that came and made its home in New Zealand. That's what we all are, the people. Just like the kōtuku. We come from India, China, Scotland and Sweden and these places to New Zealand. And then we just have something special. 

FGThe thing that makes it special for me is [that] I've been around a while, and to me the most important things in life are your family and your friends. A lot of the old friends, the few remaining ones, are coming to this exhibition. It'll be great. 

FGYes, it has. One of our big problems is [that] there are only five million New Zealanders. But, as long as we have our work displayed in places like Venice, then you make people aware of what's happening in New Zealand. If you don't have them in these places, that's what they're going to say: “Where's New Zealand?” 

FGYeah, that's great. One of the things that I've reminded artists or students of mine [is to] never criticise artworks, just keep [it] to yourself, and try and figure out what they're trying to do. You don't help the artist by criticising and ridiculing them, because we all think differently. Each one of us has a different idea of what [art] should be. We're all different. Well, I like to think we are. I just want to make sure that all the young people are not discouraged by all the knockbacks they'll probably get when they're doing their art. There are things like that, [that] to me personally, are far more important than art. It’s about people living.