CECIL BOSTOCK – By Max Dupain
PERSONALITY:
Humourless, except for a dry cynical twist which brought a snigger to Bostock and sometimes much laughter from his listeners. He was born British though he lived most of his life in Australia and joined the Australian overseas forces in World War 1. His Britishness carried with it a certain authority and sense of judgement which always favoured C.W.B.
Reading his totally unemotional report of war experiences one is confronted with factual documentation devoid of any personal reactions. Yet it is hard to assess whether he experienced them or bit the lower British lip and supressed them, or both.
He could distance himself from personalities and inanimate things. Yet I have heard him say "The subject has to go through you before it gets to the camera and on the wall." I would suggest that a lot of his subjects went through him alright but came out the other end exactly the same. His nudes, for instance, came out as icebergs and not human, warm-blooded earthy creatures.
Yet he was straight to the point in his own peculiar way. There was no romantic nonsense in his landscapes or portraits and he was a red hot still-life photographer by virtue of his innate sense of composition and arrangement and also his knowledge of lighting.
He often said "I preach the doctrine of technique and what follows is not my business...." This reinforced his love of craftsmanship, his thoroughness at everything he attempted and his seeking after perfection above all.
Never reaching it but nevertheless forever embracing it as a symbol of quality. To my mind his greatest limitations lay in his avoidance of the humanities. He did not share my love of music and literature. Nor did he, to my knowledge, react to the sensuous elements of civilised living like tasty food and good wine.
RECREATION, LIFE AND WORK:
During the three years I worked with him I did not witness any indulgence in sport or recreation. Except he spent two of those years building a boat and this was an exercise in craftsmanship as much as anything. It was not a sail boat which would bring him into contact with organic forces but a "warm water boat" propelled by a petrol engine. I spent some little time assisting him build it and for my efforts was asked to accompany him on a short weekend river trip to be joined by Harold Cazneaux and H.N. Jones, both members of the Sydney Camera Circle fraternity. I took picture but regrettably they and the negatives have long since reached limbo.
RECOLLECTIONS:
Col de Groot, the ex-soldier and prominent member of the Facist oriented New Guard who rode horseback in full military regalia, behind the parade at the opening of The Sydney Harbour Bridge was a client of Bostock's.
When all the pompous speeches had been delivered and the time was ripe for Jack Lang to cut the ribbon, de Groot broke ranks, galloped to the cutting point and slashed at the ribbon with drawn sword before Lang could get at it. He had to whack it several times because of the slack. Swords were made for slicing heads off, nothing so feminine as a pink ribbon. They had to tie it together again for Lang to do his duty on while de Groot was marched away. What happened to his horse is not related.
Anyhow, de Groot sold second hand antique furniture of first class quality and Bostock was employed to photograph it. They swapped First World War stories, de Groot was in the British forces and Bostock was in the A.I.F..
Bostock was always ready to serve short shrift on anyone or anything but rarely ready to enfulf the object in question with adoration.
He once said to me of Norman Lindsay, who was a singular inspiration to me at the time; "He's just found a formula that paid off and has kept repeatint it time and time again." I said nothing to this affront. (The status quo was definitely master and pupil). If it happened today I would retort "what bullshit you talk!"
Rembrandt was another target – Rembrandt no less! "All he did was to use a side light when everyone else painted with a flat light!"
oOo
Gael dear
Hope these notes will help. Lots more happened
of course, but as I said, memory and old age
don't mix.
Love Max