Emma Minnie Boyd

As author Brenda Niall tells the story in her 2002 book “The Boyds”, Australia’s most famous artistic dynasty began with four men; Victoria’s first Chief Justice, a convict turned successful brewer, a military officer and a doctor/squatter. Initially, reading this book brought back memories of Tolstoy’s War and Peace in that the reader is confronted with an enormous family tree that runs to three pages.

The scale of that tree can be attributed to the simple fact that most of them bred like rabbits.  What is remarkable is the proliferation of artistic offspring produced by these various alliances; painters, potters, sculptors, writers and architects.

For this blog, I am focusing on the career of Emma Minnie Boyd (1858-1936) arguably the first significant artist of the dynasty.

Minnie Boyd; Interior With Figures - The Grange, 1875, watercolour

With the a’Beckett fortune behind her (William a’Beckett was Victoria’s first Chief Justice), Emma Minnie lived a privileged existence both in Victoria and the UK.  She spent six years at the Gallery School in Melbourne, as well as private lessons with none other than Louis Buvelot – the finest landscape painter of his generation.  Her early interior scenes are my favourites, they depict scenes at the Boyd’s Tudor style mansion “Glenfern” in East St Kilda (which still exists) and “The Grange” at Harkaway (which doesn’t).  They are small in scale but very intricate.

Minnie Boyd; Corner Of A Drawing Room, 1887, oil on canvas

Minnie and Arthur Merric Boyd, were contemporaries of the Heidelberg school artists; Tom Roberts, Arthur Streeton, Charles Conder etc. but being married, they remained on the fringes of that movement.  Life in the male dominated artists’ camps of the late 1880’s was not a proposition for a lady and besides, the others were all single.  She was fortunate to have a painter-husband who encouraged her in her career.

The Boyds moved to the UK in 1890 and their work was shown at the Royal Academy.  They lived in relative comfort, but the poverty of rural England began to disturb Minnie.  The industrial revolution had effectively destroyed cottage industries and Minnie was encouraged by a local vicar to take part in village life and charitable work.  Her painting “To The Workhouse” is a reflection of these times.  But they also toured Europe, largely on the proceeds of Emma a’Beckett – Minnie’s mother.  They moved back to Victoria in 1894.

Minnie Boyd; To The Workhouse, 1891, oil on canvas

Niall writes that their experiences in Europe didn’t change the Boyd’s greatly as artists, although being exposed to rural poverty awoke a social conscience in Minnie and she became deeply religious.  Back in Melbourne, Minnie and Arthur Merric attempted to live a more independent existence but were still heavily reliant on Emma’s “bounty”.

In 1902, the Boyd’s held a joint exhibition in the ballroom of Como House which was regarded as an enviable coup.  The exhibition, which was organised by wealthy patron Caroline Armytage was considered a commercial success.

Arthur Merric Boyd; Pastoral, 1899, watercolour

Yet it appears that their status as artists was hard to define.  Their perceived privileged background was an uneasy fit with the (romanticised) bohemian image of the serious artist.  And these artists may have envied their connections.  Yet among the wealthy upper class of Melbourne they were both insiders and outsiders.  There appeared to be a slight vein of eccentricity that ran through the Boyd Dynasty and certainly Minnie and Arthur Merric felt awkward about using friendships for money.  Yet the more they needed to sell their work the harder it became.  Eventually, Minnie began teaching.

Minnie Boyd; Harkaway, 1879, watercolour

Looking at Minnie’s early work, I’m left wondering why she didn’t become a more prominent artist, as she had been exhibiting her work from the age of fifteen.  Being a woman in a male dominated profession only provides part of the answer.  Once again, the family tree provides the other – she had five children and was a devoted mother.  Still, she was one of those rare artists who was able to combine an artistic career with raising a large family.  She was equally adept at watercolours and oils and was quite versatile in her output.

Just like her mother before her, Minnie became the centre of Boyd family life.  She gave religious sermons to her children, although it was not of the ‘fire and brimstone’ kind.  One of her sons (Martin) believes that the literal earnestness with which Minnie accepted her religion was the result of her need for some unalterable centre of stability.

After being frail for some years, Minnie died in 1936 at the age of 78.  She had been exhibiting landscapes at the Victorian Artist’s Society until seven years earlier.

References;

The Boyds, Brenda Niall, Melbourne University Press, 2002

Wikipedia

Francoise Gilot, SURVIVING pICASSO

I’m currently working my way through the book ‘Life With Picasso’ written by one of his many muses Francoise Gilot who was also an artist.  She had to work hard to develop her career beyond the baggage of her 10 year entanglement with HIM.  She is unique in that it was she who ended the relationship, much to Picasso’s annoyance so it seems.  He instructed her dealer, the famous Daniel-Henry Kahnwieler to dump her (which he did) and broke off contact with their 2 children.  She is still alive, now aged 99 and lives in New York.

The book was originally published in 1964 and republished in 2019 which tells you something – it’s a significant work.  In her introduction to the 2019 edition, Lisa Alther states that Picasso launched three unsuccessful lawsuits trying to prevent its publication, and 40 French artists and intellectuals, some of whom were former ‘friends’ of Gilot signed a manifesto demanding the book be banned.  It’s likely the objections revolved around gender issues, a woman succeeding in a man’s world although Gilot believes they were simply ingratiating themselves to Picasso.  Some of those signatories later admitted that they hadn’t read the book.

Gilot 'Fire Spirit', oil on canvas, 2011

Gilot was only in her early 20’s when she met Picasso in 1943 – he was about 40 years her senior.  Against the wishes of her parents (in particular her violent father) Gilot gave up her law studies to pursue a career in art.  She was banished from the family home and lived with her grandmother, who supported her whilst the relationship with Picasso evolved in secret. 

It is suggested by many observers of the time that Gilot’s influence on Picasso was greater than the other way around.  In an interview with The Guardian in 2016, it was put to Gilot that being involved with an artist of such magnitude threatened to overwhelm her own style and development.  She responded “No, in art subjectivity is everything; I accepted what [he] did but that did not mean I wanted to do the same.”

In August 2019 an exhibition of her monotypes was held at the MacGryder Gallery in New Orleans.  Over the years she has experimented with many mediums, styles and techniques displaying a confident use of colour and texture. 

Gilot, 'Polarities' monotype, 2009

Commenting on Gilot’s exhibition at the MacGryder, Jess Civello said “Using lithographic inks, solvents and equipment, but painting directly onto plexiglass rather than stone or metal plates, Gilot was free to improvise, adding layers of translucent texture with pass after pass of inking and wiping clean the plate. Collaging different exotic textured papers onto the base sheet further enhanced her finished vision, resulting in unique paintings on paper with various symbolic themes that have an organic sense of movement to them.”

The book provides us with a vivid portrayal of both Gilot and Picasso.  She describes how Picasso would manipulate the market for his work – playing one dealer off against another.  He would invite 2 competing dealers to his studio, make them wait an hour before inviting one of them into his ‘inner sanctum’ whilst the other sweated it out.  Oh, to have that much power as an artist!!

Gilot, 'My Grandmother Anne Renoult', oil on canvas, 1943

Gilot also gives a vivid account of how Picasso would manipulate people, including how he enticed her to leave her grandmother and live with him.  He argued that every positive action can have a negative consequence “the genius of Einstein lead to Hiroshima”, he said.  Emotional blackmail was also part of his armoury.

So how did Gilot survive Picasso?  By being strong-willed, talented and financially independent thanks to the support of her grandmother.

References;

The New York Times

The Guardian

“Life With Picasso”, Francoise Gilot & Carlton Lake, New York Review Books, 1964 (republished 2019)

The Price Of Success; Jason Benjamin

Perhaps I should start this blog with a confession.  I have never seen Jason Benjamin’s work in the flesh, so to speak.  And now he is gone.  His body was found in the Murrumbidgee River by police on the 16th February after he had been reported missing.  He was 50.  According to his Sydney dealer Ralph Hobbs, Benjamin had his ups and downs but he seemed excited about an upcoming exhibition and decided to travel to outback New South Wales to produce some paintings and poems for it.

Although predominately a landscape painter, Benjamin was a regular finalist in the Archibald and in 2005 he won the Packing Room prize with his portrait of actor Bill Hunter, titled ‘Staring Down The Past’.  His other subjects included musicians Paul Kelly and Tim Rogers.

Staring Down The Past, oil on linen, 180 cm x 240 cm (Art Gallery NSW)

Born in Melbourne, Benjamin spent periods of his childhood in the US and Mexico and studied at the Pratt Institute in New York City from the age of 19, but found it stifling.  Afterwards, he juggled work and art studies before returning to Australia in the early 1990’s.  He has won a number of awards including the Mosman Prize (3 times) and the Kings School Art Prize for landscape painting in 1997.

I Can't Let Go, 2004, multi-plate coloured etching (Etching House)

Despite spending up to 70 hours a week painting in his studio, he was able to balance this with his marriage and the demands of 2 children.  He once said that “if you have a richer life – full of experience, communication, challenges – then you’ve got more to paint”.  He describes his landscapes as “romanticized versions of reality” and apparently has been called a photo-realist painter, which just goes to show how little some people know about art.  Although he did use photography as part of his source material.  He appears to have been a fine draftsman, but there is also a rich tonality and mood inducing colour in his work. 

There Is No Easy Ride (Western plains NSW), oil on linen, 120 x 180 cm (Tiffany Jones Fine Art)

For those of you who know the paintings of Thomas Cole and Frederick Church, you may not be surprised to learn that they were influences on Benjamin.

Hobbs believes Benjamin’s romantic landscapes were always telling stories that were close to him. "He felt life very intensely so it wasn't just about painting trees and skies, it was a layered story of love loss, romance all through these works," he said.

"When he was in a landscape he wasn't just creating images of it, he was really feeling what it was to be in this place."

Success came early to Benjamin and it appears he may have had trouble dealing with it.  He was only 18 when he exhibited in his first group show in Manhattan. Tim Olsen, director of Olsen Galleries thought there was a melancholy in his work that paralleled his own life. “He got distracted by the promise of big money and lost his way a bit, but that's what happens with young talent.  Jason didn't know how to deal with success. It's an enormous tragedy."

Hobbs said Benjamin had his demons, “felt pressure greatly” and “found solace in addiction to help him through.But he was incredibly passionate about life and love … everything he did was an outpouring of emotion.”

We Just Knew He'd Be There (2014), oil on linen, 120 x 180 cm (Artsy.net)

Benjamin’s work has been exhibited in the National Gallery of Australia, the National Gallery of Victoria, the Parliament House Collection and in over 40 solo shows globally.  Actor Kevin Spacey is one of a number of Hollywood identities to have acquired his work.

References;

Tiffany Jones Fine Art

Australian Broadcasting Commission

The Guardian

The Forgotten Alexander Colquhoun

One Australian artist who appears to have slipped under the radar of many historians is Alexander Colquhoun (1862 – 1941), who was born in Glasgow and arrived with his family in Melbourne in 1876.  Some time back, I posted about the landmark exhibition “Golden Summers” held at the National Gallery of Victoria in the mid 80’s which featured the Heidelberg School artists.  Colquhoun wasn’t in it, even though he studied under Thomas Clark just like Fred McCubbin who was one of the ‘stars’ of the exhibition.  And again just like McCubbin, Colquhoun was a member of the Buonarotti Club which was an artistic-musical-literary society in the 1880’s.

Portrait of Colquhoun by John Longstaff

I wasn’t even aware of Colquhoun until I saw an exhibition of his work at the Castlemaine Art Gallery in 2004.  According to the gallery, this was the first significant exhibition of his work since his death. “As a writer and critic he did much to record the art history of his time and place. His writing, in books and in articles for periodicals and newspapers (including the Melbourne Herald and The Age), shows him to be a cultured man possessing a wide acquaintance with classical and general literature.”

Colquhoun - The Old St James Church 36 x 25 cm n.d.

Colquhoun took private students as well as teaching drawing at the Working Men’s College (later RMIT) from 1910.  Later he taught art at Toorak College until 1930, as well as exhibiting regularly at venues including the Victorian Artists Society.

Colquhoun - A Spring Morning, 71 x 96 cm n.d.

He is not an easy artist to track down and some of his works are undated. He usually painted from nature using a sombre palette with some impressionistic accents, and most of his works are in oils either on wood panels or on canvas.  Frederick Follingsby’s influence is apparent in Colquhoun’s early work.  In later years he became friends with, was influenced by, Max Meldrum.  His painting A Spring Morning has fetched the highest  price of any of his works - $10,862USD in 2015.

Colquhoun - Figure In Interior, c1920

So why is Colquhoun so obscure?  Possibly because he didn’t produce any blockbuster works such as Robert’s Shearing The Rams or McCubbin’s The Pioneers or Streeton’s Golden Summers.  I think we can associate his darker tonal works to a later period when he fell under the spell of Meldrum.  Some of his interior scenes remind me of nineteenth century social realist paintings by Jozef Israels and Honore Daumier but without the pathos.  There is a calm domesticity, even intimacy in Colquhoun’s interiors.

Colquhoun - title and date unknown

In 1936 Colquhoun was appointed a trustee of the National Gallery of Victoria. He died in East Malvern in 1941, survived by his wife and three of their four children.

Members of the Buonarotti Club in 1885. From left, back row; John Longstaff, Llewelyn Jones, Colquhoun, E. Phillips-Fox, Fred McCubbin. Middle row; Tudor St George Tucker, Julian Gibbs, David Davies, Fred Williams. Seated at the front is Aby Alston.

Jane Sutherland was one of the first women to be invited into the Buonarotti Club.

References;

The Australian Dictionary of Biography

Castlemaine Art Gallery

The Heidelberg School – William Splatt and Dugald McLennan

Russell Drysdale And The Blank Canvas

I have a once-upon-a-time story for you.

Many years ago during an Australia Day long weekend, the ABC screened a series of excellent Aussie art shows.  Hard to believe these days given the tripe that passes for art programs, but it did happen.  It’s a sad story in some respects as this happened just before I got a VCR – I was still finding my feet after a divorce.

One of those programs featured the formidable Russell Drysdale and dated from the mid 1960’s.  An old pal of his, the journalist George Johnston, came up from Sydney to have his portrait painted.  Drysdale was living at Hardy’s Bay near the entrance to the Hawksbury at the time.

Drysdale has being described as the artist who ran away from the canvas, and this program made it abundantly clear that he had a hell of a job getting started.  Having the same problem myself at the time, this caught my attention.  Drysdale would get Johnston into position, then faff about in front of the canvas for a while before suggesting they both visit an old friend at a nearby pub.  So off they went and the camera would focus on the canvas – blank.

The next day the same routine would be repeated only this time Drysdale suggested they go fishing (I think – I’m digging up nearly 30 years of memory here).  But I remember the camera focusing on the canvas again – blank again.

He eventually made some progress and I distinctly remember Johnston saying that it seemed as if Drysdale was going into a trance in front of the canvas.  But after 2 weeks Johnston had to return to Sydney, resigning himself to the idea that the painting will never happen.  A few weeks later he gets the call, “I’ve finished”. 

Drysdale's portrait of George Johnston 1966

Drysdale’s gift as a portrait painter was that he could capture the character of the person.  Both he and Johnston were in fairly poor health by that time.  Drysdale was also an incredible portrayer of loneliness and my two favourite paintings of his are…

'Soldier' (1942) oil on composition board, 59.5 x 40 cm

And…

'War Memorial' (1950) oil on composition board, 66 x101.6 cm

“The subject is of no particular township but rather is representative of a small bush community with its cheap, cast figure (there must be hundreds of them) looking completely unreal and out of key.”  Letter from Drysdale to the Tate Gallery in 1956.

This painting became the first acquisition of an Australian painting by London’s Tate Gallery.

As for the availability of the program, simply titled “Russell Drysdale”, I suggest you contact ACMI, the Australian Centre for the Moving Image.

These days a blank canvas presents no issues for me, it’s just a matter of getting something happening ASAP.  The problems usually start later on. 

Calm In A Crisis

At times like these when we are reeling from the impact of the Covid 19 pandemic, not to mention last summer’s bushfires, we can become so pumped up with anxiety and dread that we can forget to keep an appointment with someone very important - our inner selves.

We might have intimations of it whilst driving on a quiet freeway or when contemplating a sunset or dawn.  I can remember when I was a kid the beautiful aroma of eucalypt forests that would waft across the suburbs of Melbourne first thing on a hot summer’s day, before the traffic pollution and rising heat obliterated it. 

Author Alain de Botton argues that we should bring a little perspective back to our needlessly tense and preciously brief lives.  I think the operative words here are “preciously brief”, and this brings me to a regular theme of his at the School of Life – the concept of a higher consciousness.  For much of our lives we have no choice but to live in a state of lower consciousness – we must in order to attend to practical everyday matters.  But taken to an extreme, this can lead to us over reacting to insults, blaming others and developing an exalted sense of who we are, our beliefs, and our place in the world.

Alone In The Marches, oil on canvas, 71 cm x 100 cm

Achieving a higher state of consciousness involves loosening our hold over our own egos and rising to a less biased perspective of the world.  Our mind moves beyond self-interest and cravings and we are able to relate more to our natural environment, wind, cloud, trees or even the aroma of a distant forest.  We may even start to have a little more compassion for our fellow human beings.  Periods of higher consciousness can be desperately short lived, but the idea is to harvest their insights for the panicky periods when we need them most.  This is not easy to achieve and I am still working on it.

Art has a role to play here as you will see from the following;

Jacob Van Ruisdael, ‘Wheat Fields’, ca 1670, oil on canvas

A man with a traveller’s pack approaches a woman and child in a cultivated landscape.  There is a glimpse of boats at sea on the far left.  But it’s clear the viewers’ eye is directed to the dominant sky which takes us to another level of consciousness, and thus the encounter below is rendered insignificant.

Caspar David Friedrich, ‘Monk By The Sea’, 1809, oil on canvas

This painting was daring in its originality when exhibited at the Berlin Academy in 1810.  It’s not strictly a landscape or a seascape, so what is it?  Friedrich once said a painter should paint not only what he sees before him, but also what he sees within himself.  This could involve making a conversion from the material world into the spiritual world.  At a time when most artists were producing images of an idealized or corporeal world, Friedrich presented viewers with a void.  Or is it?  The presence of a figure who appears to confront the unknowable void before him adds a poignancy to the work and gives it an emotional power.  Critic Robert Rosenblum argues this painting prefigures the work of Turner and Rothko who sought to escape from the material world by distilling the mysteries of nature and spirit in veils of atmospheric colour.

Antoine Chintreuil, ‘Expanse’, 1869, oil on canvas

As the realities of the industrial revolution began to hit home, with grueling and often dangerous factory work replacing traditional farm labour, there grew a demand for images of a disappearing rural Arcadia.  People were flocking to the cities to find work and just survive.

Many artists of the mid-19th century began to focus on nature’s awesome immensity as, perhaps, a form of meditation including Antoine Chintreuil with this painting that made quite an impact at the Paris Salon of 1869.  There is a rural setting in the foreground but this is reduced to insignificance by the vast horizon and the sky above.  The scene is peaceful and the sunrise “suggests a benevolent deity presiding over the verdant land below.” ROSENBLUM

‘Arctic Summer’, oil on canvas, 77 cm x 92 cm

Places like these really do exist and we need to acknowledge them.  They can bring a context to our own existence in the overall scheme of things.  Our relationship with the natural world is a contract.  If we respect the laws of nature, we will reap the benefits.  If not, we will be punished - as is becoming increasingly apparent.

‘Hopetoun Lawn’, oil on canvas on board, 61 cm x 72 cm

When I paint a scene I try to imagine being there, how I am feeling in that scene – perhaps serene or a little melancholy but not anxious.  It helps me create a mood so that these scenes are intended to be more than just a record of what’s there.  I guess you could argue that I’m trying to access a state of higher consciousness.

References;

Alain De Botton - The School Of Life

Robert Rosenblum - Paintings In The Musee D’orsay

Robert Rosenblum & H. W. Janson - Art Of The Nineteenth Century, Painting and Sculpture

Henry Darger - Outsider Artist

The term outsider artist seems to be applied to those who are self-taught or naïve art makers. Typically, they tend to have little or no contact with the mainstream art world and in many cases, their work is discovered only after their deaths.  The term is also applied to artists with intellectual disabilities or mental illnesses as well as those on the margins of art and society: the homeless, ethnic minorities, migrants and folk artists.

An article in The Guardian in 2014 described outsider art as “hot”, art fairs are now dedicated to it and they draw big crowds and big money.  It’s interesting how the term outsider artist tends to be applied by gallerists, academics, psychologists and art school trained artists – that is, by those on the inside.

But what of the artists themselves?  One of the best known outsider artists is Henry Darger (1892-1973) who lived almost his entire life in Chicago.  In her book “The Lonely City”, author Olivia Laing describes how easy it is for people to vanish in cities, retreating into their apartments due to illness (mental and/or physical), bereavement or simply being unable to impress themselves into society.  Darger was just such a person.

He was born in the slums of Chicago and when he was 4, his mother died of a fever shortly after giving birth to his sister who was immediately adopted.  His father became a cripple and when Henry was 8, he was sent initially to a Catholic boys home and then to the Illinois Asylum for the Feeble Minded.  He was considered a bright student at school but strange behavioural traits resulted in his incarceration.  He was aware of the injustice of all this, “I, a feeble minded kid.  I knew more than the whole shebang in that place”, he wrote in his journal.

Whilst there, Darger received the devastating news that his father had died.  He was subject to dreadful treatment at the asylum, images of which later appeared in his art.  He made several escape attempts, the first resulted in being caught by a cowboy who lassoed him and forced him to run behind a horse back to the asylum.  Instances of child abuse at the asylum are well documented.

Eventually, Darger made it back to Chicago for good and found work as a janitor in a Catholic hospital where he would spend the next 54 years, working long and arduous hours. The only break was when he spent a year serving in World War One. He lived alone in a tiny apartment and filled it with illustrations, paintings and writings.

Darger’s apartment

At around 1911, he began work on a novel called “The Realm Of The Unreal”, that would eventually run to over 15,000 pages.  After the war Darger began to illustrate the novel with watercolours.  No one knew of the existence of this novel until after his death and it is claimed that when he was on his deathbed, he asked his landlord to destroy it.  But the landlord, Nathan Lerner, saw the value in Darger’s work and saved it.  Some of it is now on permanent display at INTUIT: The Centre for Intuitive and Outsider Art in Chicago.

His novel, which is perhaps in the vein of Tolkien or the Game of Thrones, is about the Vivian girls; that is seven girls who are his heroines who lead an army to free a group of child slaves who are being held captive by an evil army.  So it is a classic good versus evil story.  It is likely the genesis of this novel was his experiences at the asylum and his war service plus his appalling loneliness.  But Darger has left no information about why he produced this vast quantity of work.  It is believed he saw no value in it.

Thus it could be argued that it’s the intrigue surrounding Darger’s work that has contributed to the aura around it.  If he had been actively pushing these works during his lifetime it is possible they would not have the popularity they enjoy today, where prices in the $100,000s are not uncommon.  There is a bitter irony to this story of course, as it would appear he produced this art just for himself, perhaps in order to make his life more bearable.

With so little to go on, Darger’s life and art have been the subject of extensive analysis which have included suggestions of paedophilia.  Yet from his journals, we know child protection was a major concern of his.  We also know that he was a devout Catholic who regularly attended mass, that he had one good friend called William Schloeder who he possibly met during the war and called on regularly until Schloeder’s mother died in 1956.  Schloeder then moved to San Antonio to live with his sister and died 3 years later.  This left Darger entirely friendless.

We also know he taught himself to draw by collecting and tracing thousands of images and he also used collage and free hand drawing. 

Laing suggests it would be foolish to suggest Darger was not undamaged by his past, not the subject of some kind of breach with the external world. But she quotes a declaration of child independence he made in the “Realms” which include, “the right to play, to be happy and to dream, the right to normal sleep during the night’s season, the right to an education, that we may have an equality of opportunity for developing all that are in us of mind and heart”.

References;

The Guardian

Olivia Laing - The Lonely City

The Good Stuff - The Secret Life & Art of Henry Darger