Rex Turnbull conjures up a compelling sense of familiarity in these new paintings. As the exhibition title suggests, these works are about men on what is clearly recognisable as the New Zealand landscape and what we witness is the communion between man and the land.

Turnbull’s characteristic cropped compositions and clearly outlined solitary figures in a strongly defined light have an almost cinematic viewpoint. In This Land – Ngai Tahu a man with squared shoulders and protectively poised staff looks confrontationally at the viewer. His magnetic stare is both unsettling yet reassuring. He stands strong, unmoving, ensnared in the prevailing eerie stillness amplifying the tension between opposing feelings of melancholic isolation and connectedness to the land. The landscape is bathed in a glowing regional light; his silhouette is illuminated. Equally convincing is the composed stance of the figure in Splash – Ngati Mamoe. He stands purposefully, side on to the viewer, hands in his pockets and head slightly tilted. The tranquillity of the still blue water and the resonating warmth of golden hills behind him belie the anxiety, tension and uncertainty projected by his posture and resilient gaze. At first glance the main figure in Counting Minutes – Ngati Mamoe appears downcast yet as we look closer, we find a knowing gaze and furtive glint of audacity. The tree-lined shingle banks and flowing river is the landscape he identifies with, this place is his solace, this is where he belongs.

The familiar detritus of mans archaeology present in many of these works acts not only as a means for analogy but also to emphasise mans lasting presence on the landscape and the passing of time. A dilapidated rail bridge in Mens Work – Ngati Kahungunu stands rusted and unemployed – hopelessly barricaded and now a monument to past industry. Bright crystalline light slices shadows on to the aged weathered boards and rusted corrugated roof of the old building in Time and Place – Ngati Rangi. Missing a plank or two and having witnessed the ravages of time it still stands defiantly mirroring the proud figure in the foreground - theirs is a relationship of dependence, hardship, survival and endurance. A series of sharply-pitched rooflines in So You Think You Can Dance – Ngati Tuwharetoa jut out against a stark chilled blue sky as if empathising with the young man’s sense of isolation.