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Obituary: Arthur Boyd (1920-1999)
"Concepts involve the future, possessions don't"
By Richard Phillips
3 June 1999
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The death of Arthur Boyd, aged 78, on April 24, marks the passing
of one of Australia's most respected expressionist painters. A
member of the generation of artists and intellectuals who came
to maturity during the Depression and World War II, Boyd was one
of the few internationally-known Australian artists from that
era still alive and working in the 1990s.
Boyd's paintings, drawings, lithographs and ceramics transformed
the harsh reality of urban and bush Australia into a mythical
place, a country inhabited by an eclectic collection of characters
and events drawn from ancient Greece, the Old Testament, and Australian
history. While Boyd relied on the Australian landscape for visual
inspiration, his work rose above its geographical origins to examine
universal social and psychological themeslove and affection;
jealousy, deceit and vanity; racism, poverty and war.
Born in 1920 in then rural Murrembeena, now a suburb of Melbourne,
Arthur Boyd began painting as a boy. Provided with ample supplies
of paints, brushes, canvas and constant family encouragement,
he received his first art prize at the age of 11.
Boyd had little formal training, his artistic education nurtured
by his close-knit devoutly Christian and slightly Bohemian family.
Bible readings and passionate discussions on literature, art,
and drama were regular nightly events at the Boyd's, a family
whose artistic roots went back to the previous century. Arthur's
father, Merric Boyd was an accomplished potter and sculptor, his
mother Emma, a painter. His grandparentsArthur and Emmawere
landscape painters, as was his uncle Penleigh. David, Guy, Lucy
and Mary, Arthur's brothers and sisters, were also artists.
In 1935 Arthur Boyd began working part-time at his uncle's
paint factory in inner city Melbourne. Here he came into contact
with the mass unemployment and poverty of the Depression, scenes
that made a permanent impact on him. A year later he was sent
to live with his grandfather who taught the teenager the finer
points of landscape, portraiture and a basic grounding in impressionist
painting techniques. Some of Boyd's early influences were the
visionary poet and printer William Blake, Vincent van Gogh and
Oskar Kokoschka.
Boyd's first paintings were mainly rural and coastal landscapes:
audacious but fairly innocent works of natural beauty. As the
talented young man began to mature and move outside his immediate
family circle and into an increasingly troubled world, his work
began to assume a more intense character.
In 1938, a year after his first solo exhibition, Boyd became
good friends with Josl Bergner, a young artist and recently arrived
Jewish refugee from Poland. Bergner explained to the 18-year-old
Boyd the implications of Nazi rule in Germany and the intensifying
racialist attacks on Jews. In 1941, Boyd held a joint exhibition
with Bergner and Noel Counihan, a member of the Communist Party
of Australia. The same year he was conscripted into the army and
joined the Cartographic Company where he came into contact with
other artists, John Perceval, Albert Tucker and Sydney Nolan.
Confronted with the brutal reality of war, Boyd painted a number
of unsettling urban landscapes The gargoyles, The
baths, Lovers on a bench, Butterfly man, and The
season. These are some of his most outstanding paintings.
Painted with wild, almost frenetic brush strokes, the images
are of stick-like people, cripples and dogs driven mad by an unseen
and unnatural force. Human activity is permeated with intense
frustration and despair. Love-making, a fairly common subject
for Boyd, has an hysterical quality and is invariably interrupted
by intruders of one or another kind.
Intellectual ferment
Boyd and most of these young, Melbourne-based artists were
at odds with the stultifying Australian art sceneits preference
for naturalistic, self-satisfied and banal bush landscapes or
bland, soul-less portraits. One critic described the art officialdom
as amorphous and slithery-seekers after the poetry'
of the Bush, or contrivers of that romantic gloom
that invariably surrounds the head of a wealthy merchant when
he sits for his presentation portrait.
An indication of the art establishment's pathological distrust
of modernism was the infamous NSW Supreme Court case against the
1943 Archibald portrait prize. Seven artists, competitors in the
contest, headed by two academic paintersMary Edwards and
Joseph Wolinskiissued a writ against the Archibald judges
claiming the prize, which was awarded to William Dobell, had been
wrongfully given to a caricature. The prize-winning painting,
the Supreme Court was told, contained distortions. A genuine
portraitist and the great masters never distorted.
The court ruled in favour of the Archibald judges.
Those opposed to the established art scene began to coalesce
into two main factionsthe Social Realists and the Angry
Penguins. The Social Realist group was led by CPA member Noel
Counihan and heavily influenced by the mind-deadening and sycophantic
Soviet Stalinist school of Socialist Realism. The Angry Penguins,
a loose alliance of radical liberals and anarchists, included
Nolan, Tucker, Perceval and the Adelaide poet, Max Harris. Each
tendency attempted to establish control over Melbourne's Contemporary
Art Society, the main exhibition space for modern art in Australia.
Boyd stood on the periphery of the Angry Penguins group and
avoided the heated and often-confused discussions and debates
in the Contemporary Art Society. The most important of his paintings
from this period The mockers, The mourners,
The golden calf and Melbourne Burning drew
on Biblical themes, subjects clearly at odds with the Social Realist
school.
After the war, in the late 1940s and early 1950s, Boyd produced
a number of striking, almost primitivist, landscapes. The dark
days of the war are absent with man and beast, whether in tangled
rain forests or in semi-desert country, merged into a relatively
tranquil and timeless countryside.
In 1951 Boyd journeyed to central Australia where he witnessed
the extreme poverty and racism facing Aboriginal people. Sketches
and drawings from this visit germinated six years later in his
Love, Marriage, and Death of a Half-Caste series (1957-59),
a collection of mystical Chagall-like and vaguely erotic images
of a half-caste Aborigine and his white bride. Trapped in a dank
and claustrophobic netherworld, the protagonists, surrounded by
ignorance and bigotry, are disoriented and dazed, terrified by
the past, fearful of the future.
Some years later Boyd commented that the paintings could have
been stronger and more Goyaesque. Despite some mawkish
moments, the series represented the first attempt by a significant
Australian artist to reveal the real plight of the Aboriginal
people and was generally well received by Australian critics.
The first London showings of the Half-caste series were
widely acclaimed and opened a new chapter in Boyd's career. Having
moved to Britain in 1959, Boyd worked intensively over the next
eleven years holding a number of successful exhibitions, including
a retrospective at London's Whitechapel Gallery in 1962. A major
factor in Boyd's prolific output at this time was his frequent
visits to the great European art museums and galleries where he
viewed for the first time the original works of the classical
and modern masters.
Perhaps the most charged and challenging of Boyd's work is
the Nebuchadnezzar series produced between 1968 and 1971
about the ancient Babylonian king who captured and later destroyed
Jerusalem. This spectacular collection of 34 paintings is said
to have been inspired by Boyd's witnessing of a self-immolation
protest against the Vietnam war at Hampstead Heath, near his home.
The series, which is permeated with intense anger, soars way above
the immediate political issues posed by Vietnam to touch on many
of the psychological themes with which Boyd wrestled throughout
his career.
According to Christian mythology, King Nebuchadnezzar was punished
by God and forced to suffer in the wilderness for seven years.
Boyd's Nebuchadnezzar is a strange bewildered man, a fallen idol
who transmutates into a toadlike animal and is forced to wander
in a nightmarish and infinite wasteland harrassed by lions and
other creatures.
In Nebuchadnezzar on fire falling over a waterfall,
the most powerful image of the series, the fallen monarch shoots
like a flaming comet over the Australian bushland. Each of the
paintings exudes a deeply-felt, almost painful emotional rage,
not just against war but vanity, hatred, greed and all other human
follies. The depth of Boyd's passion is expressed in the thick,
almost sculptured layers of paint applied to the canvass.
Other significant works produced over the next two decades
include the Chained figure series (1973), the Narcissus
etchings and paintings (1976-1983), and his subversive Australian
Scapegoat Triptych (1988) and a constant stream of bush landscapes.
In 1971 he returned to Australia to take up an artist-in-residence
position at the Australian National University. Torn between his
love of the bush and his constant desire to be close to the European
artistic and cultural centres, Boyd travelled back to Britain,
only to return to Australia in 1974. Regular visits back and forth
between Australia and Britain became a constant pattern in the
last 20 years of his life.
In 1973 Boyd and his wife bought a large farm at Riverdale
near Shoalhaven, on the south coast of New South Wales. This was
followed a few years later by the purchase of nearby Bundanoon.
The Shoalhaven River, which passed through the property, became
one of Boyd's favourite landscape subjects.
A shy and retiring man, Boyd was not spoiled by critical acclaim
or financial success but continued, right up until his death,
to make his work freely available to the broadest audience. In
1975 he gave 3,800 works, including over 2,500 drawings and 200
paintings, to the National Gallery of Australia. And in 1993,
after battling years of government red tape, Boyd donated his
Shoalhaven property of over 1,000 hectares to the national government
for use as an artists' centre. This gift included hundreds more
Boyd paintings and drawings, and several thousand works from five
generations of the Boyd family.
As Boyd explained just a few years before his death, I
really don't want to hang on to possessions. What I want is to
hang on to concepts. Concepts involve the future, possessions
don't.
Conscious of his failing health, Arthur Boyd returned to Australia
early this year to see his extended family for the last time.
He leaves behind a substantial body of work and one that will
no doubt influence a new generation of artists. He is survived
by two daughters and a son, and Yvonne, his wife of 54 years.
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