Consisting of three life-sized fibreglass mannequins, Michael Parekowhai’s installation Poorman, Beggarman, Thief was originally set up within an art gallery space. Posing as well-to-do members of a discerning and sophisticated art-buying clique, the mannequins were attired in immaculate tuxedos complete with bow ties, glossy wigs and brightly polished shoes. The physical appearance of the figures visually jars with the disparaging titles of the works and successfully draws attention to commonplace cultural stereotypes.
Poorman, Beggarman, Thief initially comprised Parekowhai’s contribution to Paradise Now? Contemporary Art from the Pacific, exhibited in New York in 2004. The show was intended to question whether the Pacific was indeed a Paradise and, if it was, then whose Paradise was it? Therefore, Parekowhai’s work, which is largely concerned with the racial stereotyping of minorities in New Zealand and with issues of identity, was well suited to the show. Produced in 1996 and modelled on his father, Parekowhai’s mannequin Poorman stands casually at ease with legs slightly apart, his weight resting on his back foot and arms crossed over his body.
The title of the work, Poorman, Beggarman, Thief boldly states that Maori are too often thought of, and labelled as, a generalised body of people rather than as individuals. The piece coolly offers three broad and somewhat pejorative labels to refer to Maori en masse as being either poverty stricken or criminals. Parekowhai reinforced this by fixing his mannequins with name tags which introduced them with the ironic line “Hello, my name is HORI”. The term ‘Hori’ is a generic and derogatory term used historically by Pakeha to refer to Maori people. It is simultaneously the name of Michael Parekowhai’s father and the Maori translation of the English name ‘George’. Thus, Parekowhai’s work operates on a number of levels by being witty and personally relevant while concurrently inviting the viewer to reconsider culturally damning typecasts. Parekowhai calls negative New Zealand assumptions about the ‘collective’ Maori into question with a rare finesse which is equally apparent in his later work from 2003, Kapa Haka, (Puhina) one of the figures from which can be seen on pages 36-37 of the current catalogue.
Standing in the time-honoured contrapposto pose, Poorman returns the viewer’s gaze and, in doing so, challenges the spectator to engage with the work and to consider its physical presence as well as the issues and concerns that Parekowhai has skilfully addressed in its creation. By completing the work on a life-sized scale, Parekowhai has ensured that the mannequins are abruptly confronting and yet curiously alluring. JEMMA FIELD