True colours of islands

By LINDA HERRICK arts editor

Sylvia Marsters has been painting the fish, the frangipani, the markets and the deep blue lagoons of the Cook Islands for years. But she has never seen them. The mental pictures she has of the Cooks - the land of her ancestors - come from photos and imagination.

That's about to change. Marsters has just been awarded the Cook Islands Artist's Residency by the Pacific Arts Committee of Creative New Zealand. That will give the 40-year-old Aucklander the luxury of three fully funded months to meet some family, explore the land of her heritage and paint, seeing the true colours of the islands for the first time.

With this, the third and possibly final CI residency, it's fitting that Marsters follows in the footsteps of last year's resident, Fatu Feu'u, her mentor and friend. It was Feu'u who taught Marsters at an Elam summer school in 1998 - "and that's what got me started," she says. "He was really keen that I follow my Polynesian heritage. When I was thinking about the residence, he grabbed me and whispered, 'You've got to do this, you've got to see your culture, know your culture'."

That's quite a contrast with the "Kiwi-ised" culture of her parents, who left the Cooks in 1952, and abruptly turned their backs on the past. "A lot of that generation didn't want to know about their culture when they got here," she says. "Church became the most important thing and they never talked about their culture. Now the next generation is searching for it, reviving it."

Marsters grew up in Otara, attending the Seventh Day Adventist school in Mangere. Obsessed with drawing from a young age, she describes the school art classes as "inadequate", let alone the futile prospect of a career in the arts.

"When I left school I worked in a clothing factory as a machinist," she recalls. "It was so boring."

Evening art classes kept her going, and the machine skills were to prove invaluable when Marsters and her husband Early (so named because he always woke early as a child, she laughs) had their daughter. With Early in hospital, and the family on a benefit, Marsters - and Early when he'd recovered - set up a home-based sewing business which survives to this day. Their garments - mainly casual wear and kids' clothing - incorporate fabric with Maori and Pasifika motifs.

Their label was once called "Wikkid" although they are now searching for another option, very likely a pun on the word Marster.

"I didn't like being on the benefit so we started up the business and that's what this has blossomed into," she says, gesturing at the room full of fabric, sewing gear and finished clothes, which they sell each weekend at the Avondale and Otara markets.

Meanwhile, Marsters continued with her art classes, including painting sessions with veteran Lois McIvor, who told her she "had to do this" - had to follow her art, "and that was a real boost to my confidence".

She also became involved back at her old school, where her teacher sister had to take the art classes "but didn't have a clue ... she asked me to come in and help".

"I've been back to that school and told them art is what I do for a living. They get so excited you can actually do that. I was passionate about helping these kids; there are a lot of talented kids and it's a shame if they end up working in a biscuit factory or something like that."

Marsters has been exhibiting for around six years now, with her prolific body of work in collections in Britain, the US and around the Pacific Rim. She modestly points to a photo of a painting and murmurs that Dame Kiri Te Kanawa owns it.

She works hard and fast because, she says, "I've waited a long time to work at my art and now it's all coming out in a rush."

She says she doesn't expect the Cook Islands to be "paradise".

"It's not a touristy sort of journey. I am interested in looking at the environment and the impact of fishing and so on. I love the big fish," she says, pointing to photos of her poignant paintings of dreaming whales and marlin floating amidst the briny words longing longing belonging.

"The words came when I was longing for my Cook Island heritage and not belonging," she explains. "I did a lot of those paintings - they meant a lot to me."

During her tenure in Rarotonga some time will be occupied by workshops with students and artists, a set-up she enjoys "because you get a real interaction going and I've found that fires me up".

And she will be able to visit the spot where her grandparents lie at the back of the family home, shaded by a huge frangipani which scatters its petals over their grave. She will see its true colours, and smell its heavy perfume, for the very first time.