Some landscapes become part of who we are. They shape our childhood, our values, and the memories we carry long after we have left them behind. Preseason and Field of Dreams are connected not only by the familiar sight of weathered rugby goalposts standing quietly in the New Zealand countryside, but by the enduring culture they represent. Together they celebrate a time when rugby belonged as much to small farming communities as it did to packed stadiums, reminding us that many of New Zealand’s greatest players began on fields just like these.
Although the paintings depict different seasons, they tell the same story. Rugby has always been more than a game in rural New Zealand. It has been a meeting place for families, neighbours, schools, and entire communities. Before professionalism transformed the sport, young players often learned their skills on uneven paddocks where the grass grew long in summer, frost covered the ground in winter, and the only spectators were sheep grazing beyond the touchline.
Preseason radiates the warmth of late summer. Golden grass sways beneath a rich blue-green sky while wildflowers fill the foreground with colour and detail. The goalposts stand empty, patiently waiting for another season to begin. There is no crowd, no referee, and no players warming up. Instead, there is anticipation. The long grasses suggest that no boots have crossed this field for several months. Soon the mower will arrive, the lines will be marked, and another generation of hopeful young players will chase the same oval ball beneath these familiar posts.
The composition draws the viewer through layers of native grasses, clover, daisies, rolling hills, shelter belts, and distant mountains. Every element speaks of late summer abundance. Nature is at its fullest, quietly reminding us that the rugby season follows the rhythm of the land itself. Farming and rugby have always shared the same calendar.
Field of Dreams presents the same goalposts under entirely different conditions. Frost blankets the paddock, transforming the familiar landscape into a place of crisp silence and pale morning light. The colours are cooler, softer, and more restrained. A lone rugby ball rests beneath the posts, waiting for someone to arrive. Unlike Preseason, where everything suggests what is about to happen, Field of Dreams feels suspended in a moment of reflection.
The inspiration for this painting reaches back to childhood in Ōtaki during the late 1970s. Winter mornings often began with frozen grass crunching beneath gumboots as children walked to school or kicked a rugby ball before classes began. The empty field becomes a stage for memory, allowing every viewer who grew up in small-town New Zealand to place themselves beneath those posts.
The contrast between the two paintings reflects the changing seasons, yet the goalposts remain constant. They are quiet monuments to countless unseen games, victories, disappointments, friendships, and dreams. Many All Blacks began their journeys on fields no grander than these, where talent was nurtured through enthusiasm rather than expectation. Before television contracts and professional careers, rugby was woven into the fabric of everyday rural life.
The absence of figures in both paintings is significant. Without players, the landscapes become timeless. They invite us to remember our own experiences rather than someone else’s. We imagine the laughter after training, the smell of freshly cut grass, the sting of cold hands catching a wet ball, and the excitement of the first whistle on Saturday afternoon.
Together, Preseason and Field of Dreams are less about rugby itself than about belonging. They celebrate the places where ambition first takes root, where childhood imagination meets open space, and where simple wooden goalposts become gateways to possibility. They remind us that every great sporting story begins somewhere, often in the quietest corners of rural New Zealand, where dreams are born long before anyone is watching.
48-Preseason.1_49
