There are but a handful of truly great sculptors in the mould of Anton van Wouw still active in South Africa. One of them is Tienie Pritchard.
The very limited examples one sees of memorably good South African sculpture illustrate a fascinatingly anomalous situation in contemporary art; the few sculpted pieces on offer seem to have so little direct connection with what is being done by SA painters.
The number of sculptors who carry the mantle for men such as Van Wouw and Fanie Eloff are few indeed. And it is here that Tienie Pritchard has established a niche for himself distinguished by its rarity and his sheer excellence of ability and technique. His work embodies the best tradition of comparatively small-scale Renaissance sculpture for they display a love of virtuosity allied to the study of nature in the nascent technology of bronze casting. Some of Pritchard’s casts form an object lesson in what fine bronzes should be: an impeccable surface, rich brown patina and chasing and hammering almost too perfect to have been wrought by the human hand.
Pritchard is a sculptor who became renowned for his large public commissions, some of which are monumental. The George Harrison in Settlers’ Park, Eastgate, Johannesburg, stands nine metres high. The Water Nymphs in Warmbaths are six metres high. The wall panel depicting South Africa’s participation in World War Two in the Commemorative Museum at Delville Wood, France, measures an imposing three metres by ten metres.
These definitely formed the basis of his international acclaim and account for the acknowledgement it has had around the world, to say nothing of his far-flung client base.
He firmly dismisses a suggestion that he paved the way to becoming an established sculptor due to the somewhat outdated artistic taste of a Calvinistic Afrikaner regime.
“Just like everywhere else in the world,” he says, “South Africa was, ever since I became active as a sculptor, more inclined towards abstract modernism than to more conventional work.
“In fact, many of the public commissions that were awarded to me were competitions where I competed against abstract modern entries, well aware of the fact that my classic realistic entry was completely against the reigning norm. The commissions I was granted were gained completely on the aesthetic appeal my work had for the responsible committees. I had to win them over and convince them that good, conventional work still had – and still has – a place as respectable art.”
This somewhat orthodox approach was certainly thrown akilter when Pritchard embarked on his Life Cycle group which was intended for the Department of Home Affairs at Pretoria’s Civitas Building, but is now erected in front of the Adlou Gallery. The cluster of nudes proved to be too much for Calvinistic sensibilities: “In fact, it made me a household name in South Africa in the early 70s because of the controversy it evoked,” he laughs.
Its official rejection was, in part, an unofficial recognition that Pritchard’s skill at sculpting female nudes is singular and rare.
“I cannot depict the beauty of the human figure by distortion and abstraction. I achieve different values of light and shade by varying finishes, textures and patinas. I studied anatomy by assembling skeletons and by familiarizing myself with every muscle in the human body.”
He says the subject matter of each and every commission he has ever sculpted was the human figure.
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“With my very first public commission, I followed my heart and sculpted a group of nude figures, unheard of and unacceptable for public display in that day and age in South Africa. The Calvinistic nature of the ‘old’ South Africa actually opposed me and did not encourage my style of work. The moralists could not forgive me my deviation from my predecessors, the so-called volksbeeldhouers – Anton van Wouw, Coert Steynberg, Hennie Poetgieter among them. Actually, it was the end of a genre because abstract modernism became the new trend. Conventional art could not be tolerated, provided it served the Volk’s sentiment. I was cast in the same mould as Moses Kottler, deemed detrimental to public morals and inappropriate for public display.”
But as Pritchard progressed in his sculpting ability and creative thinking, he yearned to portray more than merely human anatomy and emotion. The usual nude sculpture lost its challenge for him and this ignited his interest in ancient cultures and civilizations and, inevitably, the various mythologies of these cultures.
“I wanted to portray the nude within a cultural milieu,” he says.
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His studies of ancient cultures and civilizations also brought him under the impression of the partnership and mutual dependency between man and beast.
“In ancient times, animals had spiritual significance,” he says. “I incorporate this spiritual kinship between man and animal in my work either by depicting a live animal or by using more symbolical animal images and objects of animal origin.”
Pritchard works in a vast barn-like studio on the slopes of the Schurweberg north-west of Johannesburg and close to the Hennops River Valley.
Had he always wanted to be a sculptor?
“No, I started a BA degree in theology but I soon found out that it was not for me. Since I was small I painted and sketched a lot and I always found myself happy with it.
“I am primarily known as a sculptor of the nude,” he says. “And although I prefer the female form, I also love sculpting the male nude. My preference for the female nude is based on the fact that the female form is better suited to my smooth, polished finishes and subtle modelling technique, as opposed to the over-emphasised anatomy that Michelangelo and many of his followers modelled. I am also intrigued by the ancient concept of goddesses and priestesses – a phenomenon that vanished in modern times.
Tienie Pritchard should be something of a national treasure to people who know and value his ability. His is indeed a fading art.
When will he retire?
“I suppose when I can’t do it any more. But I love my work and I don’t want to give it up.”
© 2004 - 2010. Adlou Art Gallery. All rights reserved.
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