Home truths in images of suffering

By LINDA HERRICK

Some people could look at the nine large oils in Jacqueline Fahey's new show, Bringing It Home, and deduce that either she lives in a pretty grim area or she takes a seriously dark view of the world she lives in.

There's a person dying bloodily on the road after a car crash. A girl being brutally attacked on the street by two men who drag her away to rape her. Drug dealers cruising the street in a car which is an unsubtle badge of the trade.

Fahey is painting scenes from her neighbourhood, but it's a world swirling with life as well as death. There's nothing gloomy about it - the work pulses with movement, colour and vibrancy.

What's happening in the frames is based on events she has seen or heard of, but it is contextualised and linked to the mood of the times we live in. In one painting, for instance, a father cradles his little boy on the street, mirroring the dreadful images of the Palestinian father and son gunned down by the Israelis.

Another image of what she calls "the unselfconscious postures of distress" was inspired by a magazine photo of a shooting in Cyprus, while the politics of war in places like Afghanistan, Africa and Iraq have always intrigued and angered her.

As for the rape, Fahey read about it in the paper, while she saw the crash, and the boy dying on the ground, a few years ago. This art is based on actual events, but it isn't a literal transcript, more an interpretation.

"When I walk down to the dairy this is the sort of scenario that is here," she says. "But what is the basic theme underneath these disasters? The idea is that the most dreadful things last year were happening in other countries but we don't escape it either. If I walk down the street, I still can't help but think about that. It's in my eyes too, isn't it?"

Fahey admires the Renaissance artists' way of capturing images of, say, Jesus in Jerusalem, but placing him in the context of their own environment - "bringing it all home".

Like many of the Renaissance painters, she often places herself or, in this case, her daughter Emily in the image as well, acting as the observer or "indicator". The action swirls on the street; they watch and think about what's going on.

As with all of Fahey's body of work, which she's been producing since the 1950s, composition is carefully executed.

"It's the training I had at Canterbury Art School. We did composition and it pays off in the end, having everything balanced so you know the painting has a rhythm to it of pulling together."

Fahey always uses oils.

"You get far more depth than with acrylic, which flattens out in time, it loses its kick. I don't think it's as eloquent. You can't use paint language properly with acrylic. It's a lazy medium, to my mind. All acrylic painters take note," she laughs.

Many of her images in this show are the young people she knows - through observation, of course - as her neighbours. "Those are the kids having the good times. The happiness of youth. I don't really talk to them, no, but sometimes I can hear what they're doing because they have late-night parties. I've got a general idea of the gist of their conversation."

Without wanting to seem pretentious, Fahey identifies with the way Goya used to show people in dangerous yet everyday situations, such as aristocrats travelling in bandit-ridden countryside. She's rediscovering Goya all over again by reading Robert Hughes' new book.

"I didn't realise from what I knew about Goya at art school that he painted things like that and this comes up very much in the Hughes book."

Fahey had a Creative New Zealand residency in New York in 1980, when Hughes' star as a critic was in the ascendant. "He was the famous guy, he came in there saying to hell with academic bullshit. Look at this stuff, think about it, respond to it, and don't be fooled. He wrote so well and of course academics hate it. In fact, he is a brilliant writer."

Fahey's approach to her art is very much akin to the Hughes philosophy. Clarity and energy are paramount. She is also intent on stirring things up, avoiding tidiness at all costs.

"I like to keep that distance away from being too acceptable, too successful, because I think that's not good for my nature. I like teetering on the brink. I would be uneasy and suspicious if I was too acceptable."

She turns to the painting of the girl being led away by the rapists. "You know, we've got it all here. We don't have to look for disasters elsewhere. But it isn't so much about the events. Yes, they are very interesting and I shouldn't worry that it looks black. I really like those paintings of Goya's because they're telling you what's going on at the time."

Exhibition

* What: Bringing It Home, by Jacqueline Fahey

* Where and when: Anna Miles Gallery, Canterbury Arcade, Queen St, from Friday to March 27