Life as we live
it is an unpredictable, messy business. Only when it is over can a perceptive
biographer bring shape and meaning to our existence. Scott Bevan has succeeded
admirably as he charts the fortunes of Sir William Dobell, known to his friends
simply as ‘Bill’.
This is an
excellent biography; the kind you read like a thriller, unable to put the book
aside. At 457 pages of text plus a daunting 36 pages of references, this speaks
not only for the interest of the subject but also the research and writing
skill of the author, Scott Bevan. With carefully-chosen language and strong
verbs he brings alive the visual landscapes where Dobell lived and worked. A
Cultural Centre glares across the park; Catalinas heave themselves into the
sky.
Setting is
imperative in this account. After a debilitating court case, it seems that
Dobell restored his health and sanity by retreating to the sleepy, lake-side
village of Wangi Wangi, on Lake Macquarie’s shore. Living with his older sister
Alice at Allowah, their simple cottage by the lake, he resumed painting and
found a healing routine walking his dogs, visiting the local library or
drinking with mates at the pub. Not the life of an important artist, one might
think. But Dobell is presented as a simple man, pulled into the limelight of
notoriety by the famous court case challenging his right to paint as he saw.
He cannot avoid
the art world and its pretensions, painting and meeting politicians, artists,
and the names of the day. Fame attracts him, yet he is more comfortable with
the characters who have no claim to fame, except that he chose to portray them
in his own visual way. He dislikes publicity yet is constantly in the news. He
seems doomed to inspire controversy, though he proclaims he prefers to be left
alone to paint. Endearing anecdotes reveal his foibles and fears. He hates
driving. His last car has 14 kilometres on the speedo when he dies. He has no
egg cups, so uses a cut-up toilet roll to serve a boiled egg to his visitor.
His dogs won’t budge from the shop door until he buys them each an ice cream.
Somehow these
little points humanise a man who has earned both lavish praise and vitriolic
criticism. People describe him as ‘gentle’, ‘nervous’, ‘sensitive’, yet there
is often a touch of malice to his portrayals. As he ages, he avoids Sydney,
preferring the undemanding charm of Newcastle’s fringes. As a Newcastle
resident myself, I enjoyed the part this city played in the life of a complex
and gifted man. This is a wonderful read and I heartily recommend it to anyone
curious about the dichotomy of this artist’s public and private lives.
