Aotearoa is home to hundreds of galleries and creative spaces, but very few operate from private residences. The Kim Meredith Gallery is part of a quiet but growing global trend – where homes become art spaces, the front door a threshold between everyday life and creative expression. At 247 Symonds Street in central Auckland, a shop built in 1925 shifts between an art gallery and a family living room.

Kim Meredith presents her full Bingo card on the chaos, charm and curveballs that have shaped the space.

New beginnings
My father died on the day the building materials arrived to renovate our gallery. It was the last day of summer, 28 February 2023. I sat at the end of his bed, his body still warm, utterly bereft – but also complaining about his timing, and did he realise there was a truckload of timber sitting out the front of our place on Upper Symonds Street?

Open home
When visitors realise they have not only walked into our gallery but also our home, you witness the mental gymnastics; the expressions conveying awe, excitement and sheer concern – attempting to comprehend making the private very public.  We draw on our creative community to programme our shows, one degree of separation. We like to keep things tight. Even so, the buzz of an opening attracts those passing by and it’s not unusual for strangers to be drawn in. Like the man in his late 30s, head held low, walking in, arm raised high holding a small ham and requesting a knife. I recall slicing that up, grabbing slices of bread, watching him chew slowly, before escorting him to the sidewalk. I waved as he disappeared into the night. In the decade we’d spent planning the gallery, we envisaged building a community. I quickly realised that a stranger hungry for connection would want that too.

Signing on
Remind Me Tomorrow by renowned artist Janet Lilo was our debut show in May 2023. It paid homage to the era of analogue juxtaposed with digital technology. Lilo also generously designed our branding, it was exciting watching the vinyl go up outside our front stoop and ordering a sandwich board. I recall emailing the artwork and specs, only to turn up at the factory and discover a sign almost the size of a child’s playhouse. On the upside, it doesn’t budge a millimetre with Auckland’s now frequent storms.

We did it our way
I felt we Kingsley needed to own each part and process of creating the gallery space. We Kingsley sanded and varnished Kauri floorboards, painted the walls and ceilings, before we he built false walls over the brick walls, for obvious reasons. We he even designed and installed the lighting (don’t worry Karl Guttenbeil did the electrical work). 

We quickly got used to life in the gallery, especially with the blinds open to Symonds Street and the world passing by. Still, it’s always a surprise to see our neighbour out front suddenly appear with prospective tenants, pointing at our space, the work we’ve done and what’s possible for them. I go from feeling flattered and then quickly annoyed that other people are taking my Kingsley’s ideas and benefitting from all our his hard work.

I’ll take it
We are programming six shows each year, we open four days a week, Wednesday to Saturday. In the six to eight weeks that the works hang in what becomes our lounge every night, the privilege of being up close to the art builds an appreciation, and a connection to the work soon develops. The morning and afternoon light changes how you view the pieces, often what you initially noticed recedes – the work slowly reveals itself to you. Your respect and awe for the artist grows. You think about buying the work yourself, and then remember your bank balance.

Children and animals
They say never work with children or animals – they’re unpredictable. On a tough week, I’d gently add artists to that list. They are utterly brilliant and inspiring, but the lead-up to a show is not for the faint-hearted. It’s a heart-stopping ride at Rainbow’s End – you’ll climb every mountain, cross every ford and lake, as you journey through the ever-shifting landscape of ideas about what they’re going to make… or won’t.

And yet, when it all comes together – when the vision lands, when the artist walks through the front door with their work, like they’re holding a newborn, Kingsley ready to install, the space transforms. You witness something extraordinary and realise that in creating a space for artists to enter and take up space, the purpose of the gallery truly comes to life. Or as Janet Lilo said at our very first show, “I wouldn’t have made those pieces if you hadn’t created this space.”

We’ve built a community around our gallery and home – one that connects through exhibitions, artist talks and performances. We offer each other whanaungatanga, inspiration and at times solace. We share the journey of a profound calling: to look at the world, make sense of it, and create work to share. To remind ourselves – and each other – just how fleeting and precious life is.

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