Where are Michael’s black swans?

Contemporary artist Michael Heyns doesn’t know who has his four paintings of the black swans, and he might never know. A crooked art dealer stole his art register many years ago, he tells Monique Strydom.

The black swans are not the creatures as we know them with long, slender necks. These swans have their heads tucked away under their wings. They are black swans hidden in shapes. As an art collector, I met Michael at Alice Art Gallery in Ruimsig, Johannesburg.    

Michael, who lives in Pretoria, looks sad as he talks about his black swans. Every painting he has painted or will paint is an extension of himself, of his life. He only paints things from his own experience.  The pomegranates from his childhood. The koi fish and the magnolias from his garden. The poppies he grew himself to entice the bees. The “nonnetjieuil” is a reminder of two sweethearts who saved for months to buy their first art – a sculpture of a little owl. The butterflies and the moonflower have their own stories. 

Years ago, his wife commissioned him to paint a lotus flower.  Staying true to himself, he planted and grew the lotus seed to full blossom and only then could he start with the commission.

Who is the man in his paintings? It is a reflection of him. It took a near-death experience for him to ignore the instruction from commercial galleries not to paint figures. The angel-like, square-faced man has an omnipresence, capturing peace in the moment of seeing death.

Michael is one of the very few contemporary South African artists who has managed to build a commercial following. He has been painting for a living for more than forty-four years. At the time he started, it was unheard of for a man to make a living out of art. He urges young artists to focus on consistency and workmanship: the recipe he followed to become one of South Africa’s most successful commercial contemporary artists.

However,  his art is not about making money. It is about giving purpose. It is about trusting his gut and going into a conversation with the canvas. He works on five to six pieces at the same time. Starting with charcoal lines, followed by a base of oil and then “having a ball with colour”. The olive greens, indigo, crimson and transparent gold oak are recognisable of his work.

He doesn’t want to own the Mona Lisa; he prefers The Scream and Andy Warhol’s Elvis.  Being displayed in a museum is not of importance to him. Compromising is not an option. Creating art that speaks to people through workmanship, consistency and unique colours is what makes him happy.

What else would make him happy? Seeing the black swans again; just one more time. That would make him very happy. IB