By Rhonda Bartle

The Button Bank

In the art gallery in the old Manaia ANZ bank stands a bath filled with buttons. Words on the wall invite visitors to run their hands through them, touch them, play with them, pick them up, drop them back, enjoy their colours. Just don't sit in the bath, the sign says.

Welcome to the Button Bank, a Taranaki-based art gallery. Step over the button-adorned doorstep into the world of Paul Bieleski and Stacey Waterson. where even the art is all about buttons.

As one of the most collected items around the world, buttons have always been popular. But here, the challenge is for people to think outside that little circle with the two tiny holes…

Look closer at the art on the walls, or the goblets displayed in the concrete cubby holes within the old bank vault. Paul uses buttons in every piece.

Button belts dangle and jars full of buttons line the shelves.The cabinets are full of Stacey's button men and button jewellery.

Paul blames it all on Stacey - his friend and creative partner: "She came to me one day and said, 'How do you feel about buttons?'

"And I said I didn't feel very much about buttons at all. But then I was talking to my university lecturer who said to look at the history of buttons, how they were once all hand made, no mass production at all.

"So I jumped on the Net, scratched around and discovered they were once made of gold and precious jewels. That kings and queens used to travel round their kingdoms collecting them as small art pieces and I started getting interested.

"I thought, what if we could make our own, individually hand–made, or took ones that already had a life, had been on people's clothes and travelled, been around for 100 years maybe, and put them into artwork, instantly injecting history, texture and colour into art, rather than just squeezing fresh paint out of a tube."

Subtle and not so subtle art

Paul's journey into Button World began. "I took inspiration from others, like Dale Copeland, who does complex assemblage without the added complication of having to deal with paint and a flat bed at the same time."

He believes his kind of art doesn't have to be overt or in–your–face. "People sometimes say, 'There's no button in that painting,' and I say 'look again.'

"It doesn't have to be obvious or kitsch. The whole idea of a button being absorbed in the work is a lot like people wearing buttons. No one notices them."

Paul says he's looking forward to the day when someone will make a garment around the buttons, instead of visa versa.

Perhaps that's part of his reasoning behind the beautifully unique, handcrafted buttons he makes.

Some are silver with paua shell inlay, some are pewter, some are wood with poker work designs.

But Paul's paintings often combine other components along with buttons. He likes to slip in a little humour or a succinct political statement – as in a painting title that sounds like Parliament, but is actually Pā Lament.

If his work provokes a reaction, he's pleased. "If it's pushing some buttons, if you'll pardon the pun, then I've achieved what I set out to do.

"I don't care if people hate it. If someone walks past your work, that's the worst thing. If you get a reaction, then it works."

Buttons on the shelf and on canvas: Image Puke Ariki Collection TS2006_1092.

Busy buying buttons

So, where do the buttons come from? All over the country, Paul says. "We started travelling, going to op shops, but we realised it would never be enough. So we went on the internet and bought buttons by the rubbish bag full."

Yet, very rarely, does he or Stacey buy new buttons. They only want buttons that have had a prior life.

"People save them up, collect them, sell them," Paul says. "Often they come from people with clothing repair shops. We buy them by the kilo. We'll get them anywhere."

Occasionally, the odd bag of buttons turns up on the button-covered doorstep. And there's an old button riveting machine on display inside.

"That came from Don Suthon in New Plymouth. Don is an expert in the tailoring trade and this machine was used in a prison teaching facility where prisoners were taught to sew as part of their rehabilitation.

"Don wanted the rivet machine to go to a good home and thought The Button Bank would be ideal."

The only rule of thumb when gathering buttons, according to Paul, is that they come with holes, although, provided something has some association with buttons, he can usually live with it.

Suffering for your art

Paul lives by a quote from Marcel Doucoigne: As soon as someone perceives it to be art, it becomes art. And then there's one of his own: If I didn't create it, no one would get to see it.

Today, his art gallery is a must–see in south Taranaki, and will continue to grow and develop a life of its own. He and Stacey plan to paint and decorate as they can afford it, and the bank is listed as a heritage building which will help ensure it keeps its old world charm. But any serenity inside, has been extremely hard won.

Paul smiles as he explains the long, winding road that lead to Manaia. "You'll find out more when a book about my former life comes out next year, but I'll give you a little bit," he says.

"Born in Tauranga in 1963, I became addicted to gambling when I was 15 – horseracing, there was nothing else. And why I became addicted takes up three chapters, but it led to depression, illegal behaviour and stuff that really screwed my life around."

He pauses for a moment. "A lot of the stuff I draw on is not pleasant, but it changed demons into muses. The jump from being a slave to being something else, well, it's surreal.

 "Yeah, yeah," he suddenly laughs, acknowledging an almost perfect background for an artist. "Tortured artist and all that crap. That's me."

Button beauties: Goblets that have been given the button treatment look spectacularly medieval. Image Puke Ariki Collection TS2006_1093.

An Odyssey that began in Auckland

After realising the depth of his problems, Paul spent two years in rehab at Auckland's Odyssey House in. Later, as a recovering addict, he worked as a counsellor there, which helped pay for an arts degree.

"I had been drawing and painting since I was five, but I didn't have the conventions of art. There were a few things missing and I had to go and sort those out.

"When you look art my art it's all over the place, it's not really a settled style, but that's pretty intentional. In my mind there are so many things jostling for position…"

Paul and Stacey Waterson became work mates at Odyssey House, and the kinship runs deep. And while people tend to think they're a couple, Paul points out there's a different synergy to their relationship.

"Stacey has a degree in Medical Laboratory Science and a graduate diploma in Psychology. I've studied both, as well as premed, so we have a lot we can talk about."

They're simply good friends. Stacey is planning further study in art therapy, and as author of the book of Paul's life, probably knows him better than anyone else on the planet. 

She also creates quirky and colourful button men and other goods to sell. Paul grins. "And she's a fan of my art too, which doesn't hurt."

Where the work's done: Paul stands outside the Button Bank studio workshop. Image Puke Ariki Collection TS2006_1095.

Buying the Bank

Paul says a trip to Taranaki confirmed his belief he could live in the province and be eternally inspired.

"Stacey's parents live in Stratford. We came down and I got a good feel for the area. Mountain on one side, sea on the other. We made the decision to find a place here."

When Stacey was shown the Manaia property, Paul warned her not to show too much enthusiasm in front of the real estate agent.

But they both knew it was perfect, with the large wooden-floored foyer area for a gallery and a three car garage out the back for a studio.

Built in 1926 for the princely sum of £3761, the building remains a sturdy, two-storey concrete structure encompassing living quarters behind and above the old bank offices.

Opening the Button Doors

Stacey bought the building and they moved into their art space in November, 2005.

The Button Bank - an online and private gallery - was launched in February 2007, and has been open by appointment ever since.

To begin with, Stacey worked with website developers but now manages the website herself, updating it regularly with fresh images and sending out newsletters.

Though being online was initially a very important part of the set-up, as it enabled the pair to be physically located anywhere and made online buying easy, the need for being mobile appears to have completely disappeared.

Both are extremely happy with the venture, and where they are.  And with an expected 40 good artistic years in front of him, Paul Bieleski believes his future is finally buttoned down.

"Stacey once asked me, what would you do if you could do anything? And I said I'd like to do art all day and play bowls."

Too busy in Auckland, to do either properly, as resident Manaia artist and Taranaki Representative bowler, he's found time enough for both.

"The beauty with art is that no one has the power to belittle what you do. It's the age–old question: what is art?

"No one can really nail it. Every day I paint…for the rest of my life…I'll be exploring." And that goes for his bowls, too.