An Interview with Artist Matthew Browne
To coincide with the show Three Generations, Four Painters – Selling Exhibition at Webb’s Wellington, we speak to Matthew Browne about an exhibition that combines three generations of his family.
Matthew Browne in his art studio
Three Generations, Four Painters—Selling Exhibition—presents the work of the late Michael Browne (1930—2023) alongside paintings by his parents, Alan C Browne and Ruth D Browne, and his son, Matthew Browne.
In the Browne family, artistic talent seems to be a cherished inheritance, as evidenced by the presence of four, gifted artists across three generations. This exhibition—with works spanning from the 1950’s to current day—stands as a testament to their creative legacy, showcasing the unique styles within various genres, and perspectives that each artist brings to the family's artistic DNA. It highlights how the bonds of creativity and expression are deeply rooted and proving that the saying 'the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree' holds true within this remarkable lineage.
An Interview with Artist Matthew Browne
Do you think there is an artistic DNA that runs through your family’s work?
Yes, I believe there is a shared sensibility. It’s like recognising a family member’s handwriting—there’s something familiar in the way we each approach art. My father’s work, though more organic and expressive in brushwork compared to mine, shares a tonal and colour sensibility with what I do now. I also feel a connection to my grandmother’s work. Even though she lived in a very different era, her more audacious, abstract paintings resonate with me. The way she flattened the picture plane and explored colour relationships feels linked to my own practice, even though our artistic intentions were different.
Your grandfather Alan’s work seems quite distinct from the rest of the family, given his focus on landscapes and figurative work.
Yes, the lineage is less apparent in his work. He never explored abstraction—he was a romantic, deeply connected to the landscape through his mountaineering and outdoor adventures. He also worked across a broad range of media, including photography. He created hand-coloured glass slides and delivered lectures about his climbing experiences. For him, painting was an extension of his love for the untouched New Zealand wilderness, a romanticised vision of the Alps and the mountains he cherished.
Your family also shares an academic lineage—your grandfather gave lectures, your father held academic roles in the UK, and now you run the Browne School of Art in Auckland. How did that come about?
When I visited New Zealand after school in London, my grandmother suggested I open an art school. I was only 24 and immediately dismissed the idea—it felt too overwhelming at the time. This was before the internet, so starting a business meant dealing with typesetters and printed materials. But she kept mentioning it, and I think she would have been thrilled to see how it eventually came to life.
Are your own children following in the family’s artistic footsteps?
It seems like the artistic lineage might end with me! Out of my three children, one is studying linguistics at Victoria University, another is passionate about sports, and the third is a nurse. Maybe I wasn’t as inspiring to them as my father was to me! [Laughing]
Your father was in advertising before transitioning to painting. Maybe your children will find their way to art later?
That’s possible. My father started in advertising in Wellington but decided to go to art school around 23 or 24. I don’t recall discussing it with him, but I believe his mother encouraged him to apply. He attended the Royal College of Art in London after winning the National Gallery Travelling Scholarship, a major award typically given to final-year students. He was only in his first year at art school but entered under the pseudonym "Shane"—and he won.
Works by Matthew Browne
And then came Paris and Amsterdam…
Yes, after marrying my mother in the UK, he received another scholarship to study in Paris for a year. Immediately after, he won a third scholarship to Amsterdam through the Peter Stuyvesant Foundation. This set the stage for an extraordinary early career, hopping from one opportunity to the next, all while being part of the thriving expatriate New Zealand art scene in London.
You were born in London during this period. What was it like growing up around these expatriate artists?
It was a vibrant, social scene. Artists like Pat Hanly, Edward Bullmore, and Bill Culbert were around, and I remember visiting their homes. I would stay at Bullmore’s house, where I vividly recall the smell of his studio—hessian, wood, and paint. We spent Christmases with the Culberts. It was an incredibly creative environment.
What do you remember about your father’s art during that time?
It was a fertile period for him—his work moved between robust organic abstractions and darker, more Francis Bacon-esque pieces. Then, around 1970-71, he shifted to more figurative painting, producing beautifully executed still life’s and portraits. His mother visited from New Zealand in 1970, and they would go out painting landscapes together.
Works by Michael Browne
Tell us more about your grandmother, Ruth.
She was remarkable. In an era when female ambition in art was rare, she thrived in a male-dominated field. She trained at Canterbury (Ilam, NZ) and the Slade School in London the 1920s-30s, moving from figurative work to landscapes before embracing abstraction in the late 1950s. When she returned to New Zealand in the 1930s, estranged from her husband and raising my father alone, she settled in Franz Josef. She supported them both by selling landscapes to passing travellers.
What were the landscapes she painted with your father?
They were traditional scenes of Dorset and other locations. After exploring abstraction, he returned to figurative painting, focusing on observation, form, and space.
Later in life, his work became more impressionistic, correct?
Yes, in the late 1980s, he lost vision in one eye, which affected his painting. As he spent more time in New Zealand, his love for the landscape deepened, leading to tumultuous, color-rich works. Though still influenced by his darker 1960s pieces, they became looser and more expressive. His later work reminds me a bit of Toss Woollaston, though Woollaston’s paintings are more tonally subdued.
Did your father’s artistic evolution influence your own work?
I think I absorbed a lot from observing his skill. In the ’90s and 2000s, his work felt like a memory of the landscape rather than direct representation, almost like the vestiges of an image on the retina. My approach, however, is very different—where his work was loose and expressive, mine is highly exacting.
Where does that precision come from?
I think it stems from my work with collage. Cutting shapes led to an interest in hard-edged forms, which carried over into my paintings. I use tape extensively, making my work more controlled and calm, in contrast to my father’s expressive brushwork. However, there are still echoes of his forms and colour sensibility in my paintings.
Works by Ruth D Browne
What do you hope people take from your work?
Immanuel Kant once said: "Vision without abstraction is blind. Abstraction without vision is empty." I interpret that as meaning that representational painters must understand form, shape, and colour, while abstraction must have meaning beyond mere pattern-making. My work is rooted in metaphor and language, exploring how words shape our understanding of emotions. I hope people see my paintings not just as exact and precise, but as works with depth and reasoning—whether they consciously grasp it or not.
What can people expect from the Webb’s Wellington show?
The works differ, but there are common threads connecting us. My grandfather and grandmother were both romantics, and so am I, as was my father—he believed deeply in painting’s transformative power. It’s like a game of whispers: each generation passes something down, but the message shifts slightly over time.
Works by Alan C Browne