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The New Yorker
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Joined May 2008
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Susan Te Kahurangi King has a riotous œuvre of terrifying, hilarious, lewd, and ornery drawings. In counterpoint stands the artist herself, who does not read, write, or speak. The promotion of her art depends entirely on other people. She cannot give an interview or tell you what her drawings mean. The only way to get to know her, besides looking at her work, is to be next to her in a room. “And so I found myself in Auckland,” Laura Preston writes. Preston travelled to New Zealand to profile King, who, at 75, may be the country’s greatest living artist. Read the full story:
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