.
When he met criticism or downright rejection of his work, he was cut adrift, disoriented, filled with despair ... filled with rage. Frannie records his sense of profound hurt when critics attacked him. She had seen him literally cry over harsh criticism. Instead of enjoying accolades after thirty-five years of hard work, in his final years he was bewildered as to why he should be dealt with so cruelly.
His wife Wendy once said that while he was nice to live with, he could be vicious and switch from gentle to hard in a second.
He painted about rage. Rage against the dying of the light. The rage of the baboon with its paws nailed to addiction. Protective fury over his paintings if they were damaged or threatened. Fury at being told what to do by others.
| Harry Kent, Whiteley sees red I charcoal, ink and acrylic on Arches paper, 42x61cm |
Brett once described his childhood as being filled with Napoleonic rage. (He liked everything in heroic proportions).
His sister Frannie, in her biography of Brett, writes of his childhood sense of abandonment when he was sent to boarding school and when the marriage of his parents failed and mum left home. And his grief over the loss of some close friends in death such as Joel Elenberg. And in his final years his sense of isolation, loneliness, and depression.
In his younger years he had been an obsessive hoarder (birds eggs, stamps, money, soft drink) and later, hoarding firewood made him feel secure. No one has said he was a kleptomaniac but he did used to pinch stuff. Frannie records the small skull artifact he stole from a Balinese grave despite the taboo attached. Blundell, in his unauthorised Whiteley, tells of the time Brett bestowed a massive collection of art books on a friend in London - all previously stolen from a library and hoarded.
I think all the above is symptomatic of Brett carrying a void within that longed to be filled. He hungered for love and belonging, and sought an artist's fame and public approbation as the next best thing.
| Harry Kent, Whiteley sees red II charcoal, ink and acrylic on Arches paper, 42x61cm |
When he met criticism or downright rejection of his work, he was cut adrift, disoriented, filled with despair ... filled with rage. Frannie records his sense of profound hurt when critics attacked him. She had seen him literally cry over harsh criticism. Instead of enjoying accolades after thirty-five years of hard work, in his final years he was bewildered as to why he should be dealt with so cruelly.
| Harry Kent, Whiteley sees red III charcoal, ink and acrylic on Arches paper, 42x61cm |
His wife Wendy once said that while he was nice to live with, he could be vicious and switch from gentle to hard in a second.
He painted about rage. Rage against the dying of the light. The rage of the baboon with its paws nailed to addiction. Protective fury over his paintings if they were damaged or threatened. Fury at being told what to do by others.
| Harry Kent, Whiteley sees red IV charcoal, ink and acrylic on Arches paper, 42x61cm |
And in his discourse there was fire.
Seems to me he spoke with passion and conviction, holding forth interminably as if to allow no silence in which doubt could creep in.
Frannie speaks of his his endless flow of wisdom, one-liners, put-downs and penetrating witticisms and idealistic tirades on everything from Communism, Australia's need to Asianize, war, pacifism, the Australian psyche, Bob Dylan, and always ...
... art.
.
