Maori Chief Rejects Portrait
“No! It’s no good, and I’m not paying for it!”
In old New Zealand, before the Treaty, there were many people from Britain and Europe who washed up on these shores for one reason or another.
One of them was a rather pedestrian oil-painter from Poland who went around the country painting commissioned portraits and landscapes to make ends meet.
While up in the far north he persuaded a very dignified and elderly Maori chief to have his portrait painted. As the artist was obviously in straightened circumstances, the chief was able to bargain the fee down to five guineas.
The chief sat still for several days in the local pub while the artist worked busily with brushes and paint. At last the work was finished and the chief was invited to look upon his likeness. He picked up the canvas and examined it for some time with a critical eye before pronouncing “No! It’s no good, and I’m not paying for it!”
The painter was mortified. “Why?” he demanded, “What on earth is wrong? It’s an excellent likeness!”. He appealed to the loungers at the bar for their opinion. With great solemnity the sots and soakers examined first in great detail the chief then the artwork - and pronounced the painter to be correct: it was indeed a good likeness of the Maori.
However, further appeals to the chief for payment were refused. The painter pleaded with him, asking “Why, what is the matter?’
“Well” said the chief, “from the side it looks like a bread pudding and upside down it looks like two lions fighting - so I’m NOT paying for it.”
With great jocularity the portrait was again examined by the patrons from every possible angle. Some agreed with the chief, while others declared that the combatants were not lions at all - but tigers!
In exasperation, and under the eye of his creditor, the publican, the artist conceded, that perhaps in a certain light and viewed from a certain angle (when upside down) the painting may possibly slightly resemble something other than the venerable warrior. Cornered, he agreed to paint another portrait of the chief, this time for a slightly reduced fee, and in due course the second work was completed, accepted and paid for.
The next day the artist departed for points further south - vowing never again to be outmanouvered by “wily old heathens”.
In old New Zealand, before the Treaty, there were many people from Britain and Europe who washed up on these shores for one reason or another.
One of them was a rather pedestrian oil-painter from Poland who went around the country painting commissioned portraits and landscapes to make ends meet.
While up in the far north he persuaded a very dignified and elderly Maori chief to have his portrait painted. As the artist was obviously in straightened circumstances, the chief was able to bargain the fee down to five guineas.
The chief sat still for several days in the local pub while the artist worked busily with brushes and paint. At last the work was finished and the chief was invited to look upon his likeness. He picked up the canvas and examined it for some time with a critical eye before pronouncing “No! It’s no good, and I’m not paying for it!”
The painter was mortified. “Why?” he demanded, “What on earth is wrong? It’s an excellent likeness!”. He appealed to the loungers at the bar for their opinion. With great solemnity the sots and soakers examined first in great detail the chief then the artwork - and pronounced the painter to be correct: it was indeed a good likeness of the Maori.
However, further appeals to the chief for payment were refused. The painter pleaded with him, asking “Why, what is the matter?’
“Well” said the chief, “from the side it looks like a bread pudding and upside down it looks like two lions fighting - so I’m NOT paying for it.”
With great jocularity the portrait was again examined by the patrons from every possible angle. Some agreed with the chief, while others declared that the combatants were not lions at all - but tigers!
In exasperation, and under the eye of his creditor, the publican, the artist conceded, that perhaps in a certain light and viewed from a certain angle (when upside down) the painting may possibly slightly resemble something other than the venerable warrior. Cornered, he agreed to paint another portrait of the chief, this time for a slightly reduced fee, and in due course the second work was completed, accepted and paid for.
The next day the artist departed for points further south - vowing never again to be outmanouvered by “wily old heathens”.
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