Amazed and Amused - Australian Art Collector

Amazed and Amused - Australian Art Collector




Amazed and Amused



In Garry Shead’s art there is a bewildering variety of styles and technical

strategies, prompting some critics to tag him an ‘artistic

chameleon’. He received notoriety in the 1960s with his own peculiar

blend of pop art, laced with a quirky sexuality and at times

exploring gruesome and sensational themes. In the 1970s and 1980s,

his work was markedly out of fashion with the prevailing trends of the

Sydney art scene. When abstraction, cool sensibilities and minimalism

were receiving curatorial attention, he was exploring the imagery of

high romanticism in his personal re-evocations of the Arthurian myth,

together with excursions into candy eroticism and pop imagery, some

of which was inspired by the cult heroes from popular comics.

Although predominantly a Sydney artist – he was born there in 1942

and trained at the National Art School – Shead achieved his artistic

maturity in the 1970s and 1980s when he travelled extensively in

Europe and studied the techniques of the old masters. It was at this

time that he achieved his remarkable technical facility and could feel

equally at home with a glaze invented by Vermeer, the expressive gestural

mark of Rembrandt or with the optical trickery of Dali.

Looking back at the first three decades of his work, Shead has

gained proficiency in a wide range of artistic media and forms. He has

created a serious body of work in experimental film, photography, collage,

assemblage, printmaking, painting and drawing. If we approach

his oeuvre from a formalist and stylistic point of view, then the diversity

is overwhelming and it appears like a path studded with wrong

turns and pointless experimentation. However, should one reassess

his oeuvre from a more conceptual perspective, and look at what the

work is about, rather than only at the technical means employed for its

resolution, then quite a surprising unity emerges. One could argue

that Shead’s work from the early 1960s to the present, in all mediums,

represents many different paths travelled in pursuit of the same Muse.

Philosopher Jean-Luc Nancy persuasively argues the case for nine

separate Muses, as nine quite distinct forms of inspiration, leading to

different kinds of artistic creation. He writes: “The arts are older than

religion… The Muses are daughters of Mnemosyne – not in a single

conception, but after nine nights spent with Zeus – and they carry the

memory of what comes before the divine order.” 1 It can be argued that

Erato, the erotic Muse, has been Shead’s guiding source of inspiration

throughout his life’s work.

From the late 1980s onwards in Shead’s work there appear series of

paintings, drawings and prints which explore different personal

mythologies. In each instance, the imagery has a focus on an epic

theme, but this has been interpreted on different levels which accommodate

personal, national and universal humanist readings. DH

Lawrence, when writing on painting, noted that “A picture lives with

the life you put into it. If you put no life into it – no thrill, no concentration

of delight or passion of visual discovery – then the picture is

dead, like so many canvases, no matter how much thorough and scientific

work is put in it.” 2 With Shead it is precisely the question of the

inner life of a painting that is central to his art making and this inner

life is dependant on inspiration and on Erato.

The Outback series Shead commenced in 1986. The catalyst was a

visit to cartoonist Bruce Petty’s place in Maianbar, near

Bundeena in the Royal National Park, where he came across a

book on Sidney Nolan’s landscapes. “Then something in me clicked,”

Shead said in a 1998 interview. “It was a liberating experience and

immediately on returning to my Sydney studio I commenced the first

First published in Australian Art Collector,

Issue 14 October-December 2000

ABOVE: Garry Shead, Crown land, (Royal suite), 1997. Oil on board, 60x51 cm. COLLECTION: PRIVATE

OPPOSITE PAGE: Garry Shead, Dancers, 1999.Oil on canvas, 121 x 92 cm. COLLECTION: PRIVATE.


Shead has a serious body of work in experimental

film, photography, as well as collage, assemblage,

printmaking, painting and drawing

of the horse paintings.” Shead’s father had brought him up on tales of

outback adventures as a jackeroo in the 1920s and this became a

source of imagery in the series.

Shead saw in this theme a universal allegory, a myth which had both

a specific and personal meaning, as well as a much broader national

symbolic significance. The series has a strong sense of allegorical narrative,

in the same way as we may apply the term to Arthur Boyd’s Bride

series, where in a non-literal manner, the central theme gradually

unfolds. It has been argued that the central theme of Boyd’s series is

frustration, 3 with Shead it is the sense of loss and sacrifice.

In 1987 Shead moved with his wife, the sculptor Judith Englert, to

Bundeena, where a year later their daughter Lilla was born. At the beginning

of the 90s a number of factors converged. The presence of Shead’s

wife within the coastal environment of Bundeena with the rocky hillsides,

angophoras, currawongs and cockatoos, created an environment

which seemed to prepare him for engaging with Lawrence who lived

with his European wife in nearby Thirroul. In 1991 Shead came under the

spiritual guidance of Siddha Yoga, when Gurumayi Chidvilasananda

visited Australia, and felt a great spiritual clarity, focus and calm.


Garry Shead, The supper, (Lawrence series),

1992. Oil on board, 91.5 x 122.5 cm.



Garry Shead, Stockman’s dream (Outback series), 1988. Oil on canvas, 120x152 cm.


Shead came under the spiritual guidance of Siddha Yoga, when Gurumayi

Chidvilasananda visited Australia, and felt a great spiritual clarity, focus and calm.


Late in 1991 he commenced work on the Lawrence/Kangaroo series.

DH Lawrence once described the novel Kangaroo as a “thought adventure,”

as a novel “where nothing happens and such a lot of things should

happen.” 4 Shead’s Kangaroo series is a personal, intuitive response to

the novel, rather than an attempt to illustrate the narrative. The

imagery has as much to do with the Lawrences at Thirroul, as with the

characters in the novel. Richard Somers and his wife Harriet, of the

novel, in the paintings appear, as strange and ambiguous figures, at

times taking on the features of Lawrence and Frieda, at others, having

more than a passing resemblance to Shead and his wife Judith. There

is created a constantly changing fabric of ambiguity, with the blurring

of identities and a complex pattern of inter-relationships. Not only are

the central figures ambiguous in their identity, but so too is their main

adversary, the Kangaroo. The Kangaroo, which appears in most of the

paintings, is more of a presence than an identifiable character.

The artistic statement which Shead makes in the Kangaroo paintings

is one of provocative simplicity, wit and dramatic power. As with the

Lawrence novel, you are left with the feeling that you have encountered

something significant and powerful. In both there is a strong

narrative, where in a way, nothing much happens, but a lot of things

should happen, and you spend years in your mind seeing them through

to fruition. The Lawrence series received major critical acclaim in

Australia and overseas and Shead’s national standing was further

enhanced when he was awarded the Archibald prize in 1993 for his

portrait of Tom Thompson. Shead has been hung in over a dozen

Archibald exhibitions.

Hard on the heels of the Lawrence series, Shead in 1995 commenced

work on the Royal suite paintings associated with the visit of

1954 Royal Tour of Australia, which the artist had witnessed as an

11-year-old child. Although Shead could be described as a republican

and these paintings promptly entered the republican debate of

the late 1990s, this was not the primary intention of the series. It

had been a long time in the making, about 40 years in fact, and

employed the metaphor of the Royal Visit of 1954 to explore a wide

range of themes. Implicit in the series is a discussion of childhood

sexuality, and the oedipal complex with its attendant patricidal

wish and desire to reclaim the queen. Also implicit are the Jungian

notions of heroes and journeys, a spiritual quest for the new Holy

Grail, connected with perhaps a not totally pure or blemishless

royal presence. In a sense they are also historical paintings, looking

back to the Australia of the 1950s when the omnipresent figure of

Menzies dominated so much of the political scene. The Royal Suite

paintings reflect something of the naive innocence of youth, of

events seen through the eyes of an 11-year-old boy.

He achieved his remarkable technical facility and

could feel equally at home with a glaze invented by

Vermeer, the expressive gestural mark of Rembrandt

or with the optical trickery of Dali.

Unlike the Lawrence paintings, the Royal Suite images do not

engage a pre-existing narrative. Nor do they illustrate the royal

progress through Australia, documenting events and encounters.

The Royal Suite is like a series of tableau paintings, each possessing

a dramatic and unexpected character, but each also graced with a

lyrical charm and a gentle sensuousness. Events unfold under

clear skies or spectacular Southern Hemisphere sunsets, where the

absurd royal couple, possibly Elizabeth and Philip, or Garry and

his mum, move among their subjects: koalas, cockatoos, emus,

kangaroos, cows, dogs and sheep. Where human figures join in,

they appear as unconvincing echoes of the royals, and are occasionally

accompanied by the token Aborigine dressed in full

corroboree gear.

Shead’s Royal Suite invites readings on different levels. The series

can be interpreted as a historical recreation of a specific royal visit

in 1954 as seen through the distorting mirrors of memory and the

eyes of an 11-year-old boy. The whole series can also be interpreted

as an allegory, an expression of a naive belief in a white goddess,

one who was seen as supernatural, who could not be touched or

experienced, but could only be worshipped. She came from a

remote place and appeared to her subjects in the form of a celestial

apparition. Simultaneously, subverting this interpretation, was a

growing awareness of a sordid reality which surrounded her, with a

faithless consort and the growing impotence of imperial power.

Perhaps on the simplest level, the series is about a quest for beauty

and a lost innocence, a quest for a new Holy Grail. It is a tale about

the gradual process of disillusionment where Shead peels away the

taboos to reveal the sensuous vulnerable flesh, strategically

planted erotic fetishes expose this sovereign as a desirable, yet

slightly tragic being. They are wonderfully evocative, lyrical and sensuous

paintings, which may mock the monarchy, but which

celebrate the erotic Muse.

First published in Australian Art Collector,

Issue 14 October-December 2000


Garry Shead, The dream (Lawrence series), 1992. Oil on board, 122x152.5 cm. COLLECTION: PRIVATE.


Shead @Market

Garry Shead made the perfect debut for his new dealer

Stuart Purves earlier this year when he sold out his entire

show of new works before opening night of his Sydney

exhibition at Australian Galleries.

“I guess we were just ready for each other,” comments a

wry Purves, director of Australian Galleries, Sydney and

Melbourne. “You don’t get a genuine sellout like that very

often – we’re very pleased to have hooked up with Garry at a

time when he is finally coming into his own.”

Purves has set prices for new works ranging from $16,000

to $75,000 – bechmarks that are no astonishment to those

who have witnessed the market for Shead steadily grow, and,

in the last 18 months or so, take the great leap forward.

Before 1998, Shead’s major paintings rarely eclipsed

$10,000 at auction. Since then he has achieved ten sales

beyond the $25,000 mark, nine of those since last spring, and

three of them beyond $50,000.

His saleroom record remains Envoy, and oil on board from

the DH Lawrence series which achieved $63,000 at Christie’s

Melbourne sale in November, against an estimate of


Judging by this year’s winter round of auctions collectors

now seem to be holding on to works. Only one major work

was offered by Christie’s in August – an 89.5x120 cm oil

painting from 1988 entitled Metamorphosis – and it was

passed in. Sotheby’s did better with the 91x121 cm oil The

Edge, another from the Lawrence series which sold for

$55,200, right in the zone against an estimate of $45,000-


Smaller works are, of course, more affordable. Paintings in

the vicinity of 30x30 cm have been attracting prices in the

$5,000-7,000 range and are regularly appearing at auction.

(All prices quoted include buyer’s premium.)


First published in Australian Art Collector,

Issue 14 October-December 2000

There is a profound tenderness in the gaze, where

for the artist the Muse is a revelation, something

magical and a being who does not exist in a specific

time or place.

Over the past few years two series of paintings have preoccupied

Shead, the Dancers and the Artist and the Muse. They are

adventurous but also self-conscious works, where Shead in

an analytical manner investigates the appearance and role of Erato.

Again, Dancers can be interpreted on a number of levels. The constant

re-occurring motif is that of the fully clad male dancer, usually shown

in an evening suit and occasionally appearing slightly awkward and

uncertain of himself, accompanied by a nude, or an almost nude,

female dancer. On a basic level, there is the aspect of voyeuristic

erotic wish fulfilment, building on the surrealist strategy of undressing

the woman with the male gaze 5 that had been so effectively

employed by René Magritte, Paul Delvaux and later by Balthus. There

is also a hint at a more metaphysical dimension of this dance, relating

it to the dance of life as interpreted by artists like Edvard Munch.

The dance is performed on an allegorical stage – the arena of life. In

most of the paintings in the Dancer sequence, there is an indication of

an open door in the background, at times cast in darkness, at times

shown as the source of light, but in all instances the doorway offers a

path for escape.

The Artist and the Muse series of paintings appears to almost seamlessly

grow out of the Dancer sequence of paintings. In Shead’s work

tongue-in-cheek humour cannot be equated with complete frivolity, so

that by painting Rembrandt, Goya or Velázquez with their Muse, this

is not an exercise in satire, but an exploration into a rather complex

labyrinth of ideas. Shead is an artist who in most instances has to

enter the work by putting himself into the composition – whether he

be Lawrence, Prince Philip, a dancer, or in this case, an artist. However

entering a composition does not imply that he ‘owns’ it, as painting

grows through its own internal logic and momentum, but he enters it

to give it life and then participates in the delight and agony of its

growth and development. It is interesting that Shead has not called

the series, ‘the artist and his model’, but precisely, the artist and the

Muse. In each instance we recognise Erato, as she may have appeared

to Rembrandt, Goya or Velázquez.

There is an expression of passion as Shead pays homage to the old

masters. Despite the secular iconography, his figures inhabit spiritually

charged spaces. There is a tenderness in the gaze, where for the artist

the Muse is also a revelation, something magical and a being who does

not exist in a specific time or place. They are also paintings of considerable

colouristic complexity and sophistication in the handling of the

paint with wonderful loose breathing surfaces, where beneath the flicker

of a white highlight there is an internal glow that seeps through veils of

translucent colour. Shead’s work of the late 90s – the dancers, the artist

and his Muse and a number of large religious paintings – are all part of

the same theme, and belong to the same source of inspiration.

They all pay homage to the same Muse.


1. Jean-Luc Nancy, The Muses, translated by Peggy Kamuf, Stanford University Press,

Stanford, California 1996, p.36

2. D.H. Lawrence, “Making pictures”, in Mervyn Levy (ed.), Paintings of DH Lawrence,

Cory, Adams and Mackay, London 1964, p.iii

3. Ursula Hoff, “The paintings of Arthur Boyd”, Meanjin. Vol 17/2 (1958) pp.143-47

4. Letter to Catherine Carswell, June 22, 1922, DH Lawrence, Complete works, Letters II,

Heinemann/Heron, Geneva [1962], p.711.

5. See Mary Ann Caws, “Ladies shot and painted: Female embodiment in surrealist

art”, in Susan Rubin Suleiman (ed.), The female body in Western culture: Contemporary

perspectives, Harvard University Press, Cambridge MA 1986, pp.262-287

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