The birds in Paul Martinson’s paintings are not of this world: they are packaged in crates, fly on metal wings, they are confined in bell jars and glass vitrines, and dangle from light bulb cords. The surrealism of the settings combines with the accuracy of his portraiture to create works that are unnerving and thought-provoking.

Martinson has always been interested in surrealist ideas of the freedom of the subconscious and its place in the artistic process. The otherworldliness of Electric Dream Forest brings together accurate and beautifully executed depictions of birds, including the saddleback and kakariki, with the completely irrational: a field of lightbulbs complete with swimming tropical fish. There seems neither rhyme nor reason for bringing together such disparate subjects, but the precision of Martinson’s composition and drawing presents the uncommon as something matter-of-fact, and the viewer has no choice but to examine the relationships between what is ‘real’ and what is not.

Using this juxtaposition of the expected and the unexpected, Martinson also continues to address concerns about the environmental impact of human settlement on New Zealand’s birdlife in this new body of works. The extinction of the huia resonates with New Zealanders and in Glass Case Adventurers Martinson pointedly depicts a huia pair, along with the South Island kokako, in the only way we could now ever see them in real life – under glass and frozen in time. Screamer Dreamer Misdemeanour shows the bird as a commodity, packaged up for an Empire that valued its tail feathers for hat trimmings and its beaks as brooches.

The artist couches his uncomfortable messages in lush pictures, using the finest of brushstrokes to create a soft, dreamy atmosphere. The mechanical wings of the kea and the angular landscape of Mechanica are not hard and unyielding, but take on a smooth, velvety texture due to Martinson’s delicate hatching and layering of tone on tone. The rich brown of the background sky is figured with the irregular pleats and folds of creased tissue or fabric, enhancing the incongruity of the painting’s subject. The bright green of the kea’s plumage, the only ‘real’ element in the work, seems anything but natural in such a setting.

As always, the questions and concerns Paul Martinson raises in his paintings are couched in a framework of delicate line, shading and colour, initially drawing the eye, then engaging the mind.