Writing the Prize

Today, with the benefit of the internet and breakthroughs in science and technology, we have much greater access to tools and information with which to discover and analyse the past, helping us to constantly question our interpretation of events and re-examine our viewpoints.  The telling and retelling of history is a vital part of this process. So that is how I came to write my first novel The Prize. It is the retelling of an event that had a lasting impact on Australian art and culture, and on the lives of the characters who are portrayed in this novel. The more research I undertook, the more anomalies I found, making it difficult to piece together the facts, accepted truths, and their contextual meaning. The Prize is my interpretation of an event and my interpretation of the ways and the reasons the characters responded to that event. It is a work of historical fiction. Others will, and do, see it differently.

Over the past few months since The Prize was published, I have met many of my readers and shared their enthusiasm for Australian stories. I have valued the feedback, and the opportunity to meet such a diverse and receptive audience. Readers have also reached out from as far afield as the US and the UK with questions.  Two questions demand ongoing discussion and commentary, so I hope you will feel free to provide your views and feedback.

Why I chose to write this book as a piece of historical fiction.

The first question is why did I choose to write this book as historical fiction rather than history? First and foremost I am not a historian, though I have had the pleasure of working with many of Australia’s most respected historians, never more so than when I was managing Editor of Australians: A Historical Library, a ten-volume history of Australia, published to commemorate the Bicentenary of European settlement.  

While my research was extensive, it was not conclusive. The question I was wanting to answer for myself was why this event had such an impact, both emotionally and physically, on both William Dobell and Joshua Smith? Why did this portrait of Joshua haunt him for the rest of his life, and why did the two never speak again after the court case was decided.  

While Bill may have won the case, the loss for both was enduring and went with them to their graves. It was not just about the debate surrounding what was and wasn’t a portrait. It was about betrayal, and fear. What was at stake and what had they lost? The more I discovered the more I was convinced that Bill and Joshua were lovers, though I discovered no irrefutable evidence of this. Rather than their relationship being fleeting, this was a deep and loving friendship. They occasionally shared digs, painted together, spent endless hours working and relaxing together, and yet in Court Bill said he only knew him only occasionally. Later he described their relationship in an interview with the ABC in 1944 as ‘a beautiful friendship’. Their relationship was built on mutual respect and a shared love of art. But in 1944 homosexuality was illegal and any hint that their relationship was something deeper something other than platonic would have been a witch hunt, an expose far more damaging, that would not only have guaranteed front page news but have landed both of them in jail.

Historians of course, could propose this, speculate that it was possibly true, but they could not write it undeniably. Writing this novel as historical fiction enabled me the freedom to make that leap. It enabled me to write with empathy and intuition, allowing readers to experience how it may have felt to be homosexual in the 1940s, to be unable to express openly your love for someone for fear of being thrown in jail! A historian cannot write with    this freedom. Scholarly and disciplined historians avoid creating or filling in the gaps, without bringing to your attention that they are doing so. Without the likes of diaries and letters they are not privy to the feelings and inner thoughts of their subject’s life; in other words they cannot write from the POV of the subject without these tools, this concrete evidence.

Perhaps this is why Dobell insisted on his personal papers being destroyed, which were burned, upon his death. Sadly, such a request comes with much loss of evidence, but also loss about others. Dobell’s sister Alice lived with him throughout her adult life and pre-deceased him.  It is likely her Estate and personal effects were left to Bill, and as a result, photos, and the existence of letters and diaries and the like remained with Bill and may well have been destroyed with his own papers upon his death.  This may explain my lack of success in finding out much about Alice. Her creation is entirely my own.

 While historians and writers of fiction share many of the same tools for their research, archives, memoirs, and cultural artefacts, through historical fiction we are able to adopt a Point of View (POV), put ourselves in our subject’s shoes, enter their heads and imagine how they felt, create their thoughts. There are of course pitfalls to this ­­­­– contextual meaning and accuracy. In the words of historian Greg Dening, ‘The most unhistorical thing we can do is to imagine that the past is us in funny clothes.’*  

The mechanics of the judging of the Archibald in 1944.   

The second question I have been asked is to explain the process or the mechanics of the judging of the Archibald in 1944. Many of you have asked how was the winner decided? Was there debate and conjecture between the judges? Did they think it was a caricature?

 The judges are not allowed to discuss or speak about the judging process and the Minutes of the Meeting at which the judging takes place is embargoed for twelve months. Originally, I had included details of the judging in the book, but it did not make it into the final manuscript.

So for those who are curious to know how the judging took place, below is an excerpt from the Minutes of the Meeting** held by the Trustee in January 1944, which provides the process of elimination and deliberations over the final outcome. It is a brutal and unforgiving process, given there were 148 entries. It is a process of elimination with Each Trustee able to nominate one painting to be included in the final judging, which is then decided by a process of elimination.

Special meeting of the Trustees Held Friday 21st January 1944 at 2pm.

Present: The President Mr Sydney Ure Smith O.B.E, Mr Howard Hinton O.B.E, Mr J.R. McGregor, Mr Sydney Long, Mr Charles Lloyd Jones, Mr J.W. Maund, Sir.  Lionel Lindsay, Professor E.G. Waterhouse, Mrs H.V. Evatt.

Apologies: Sir Marcus Clarke

The President read the salient Clauses of the Bequest and then asked the Trustees to nominate the works they desired to be considered for the prize.

The following works were nominated.

No 86. Billy Boy, William Dobell

No 97. Mr Joshua Smith, William Dobell

No 25. The Late President of the Senate, the Hon. Sen. J. Cunningham, A.D. Culquhoun

No 35. Dame Mary Gilmore, Joshua Smith

No 82. Mr Brian Penton, William Dobell

No 112 Corp Gilbert Hobbs, Fred Leist

No 106. Elizabeth Banks, Mary Edwards

No 70. Cap C.P. Harty, William Dargie

No 116. J. McDonald, G.L. Trindall

The nine portraits were placed together the voting was by Ballot with the elimination of the following works.

No 86

No 25

No 82

No 112

No 106

No 70

No 116

The following remainder for final decision

No 96

No 35

Before the final vote was taken the President asked if any Trustee would like to express an opinion on either work.

Sir Lionel Lindsay said he was greatly impressed with William Dobell’s portrait of Mr Joshua Smith, and it is an outstanding work. Mr J.W. Maund who also spoke said he did not agree with Sir Lionel and considered the work in questions was not a portrait, but a caricature and therefore not eligible for the prize.

Mrs H.V. Evatt said there were certain passages in the portrait of Dame Mary Gilmore she did not care for.

The President addressing the Trustees again… stressed the importance of the prize which was the most valuable of its kind he knew of and concluded with these words.

‘In my opinion the painting by Mr Dobell does not comply with the essential requirements of the Bequest, that is a portrait in the true understanding of the term. Mr Dobell’s work is distinctive to the point of caricature, an element which should not be an integral part of sound portraiture. If the award is to be given to this work, then in any opinion, the specific and implied requirements of the bequest are contravened.’

The Trustees were then asked to record their votes in favour of what they considered the best portrait in the final count.

No 96 Mr Joshua Smith by William Dobell received seven votes. No 35 Dame Mary Gilmore by Joshua Smith received three votes.

The final vote was in favour of No 96 Mr Joshua Smith by William Dobell to which by resolution of the Trustees present the Archibald Prize in 1943 was awarded.

*Tom Griffiths, The Art of Time Travel: Historians and their Craft (2016) p259.

** Courtesy of the AGNSW Archives.