MAX DUPAIN – AN EMOTIONAL LIFE

 

Realism alone, he argued, was never enough. He applauded those photographer's 'deep emotional involvement' with their subject, regardless of what it was.  (p.425)

Max Dupain.

The name, Max Dupain, brings to mind images that have been published over the years with this reference as the attribution. In architecture, these are memorable photographs of projects that hold a strength and identity beyond the guile of the image that only further enriches the presence of the work by presenting it in a certain manner as a particular photographic expression. Max Dupain was Harry Seidler's photographer of choice, and specialised in architectural work for the latter part of his career that included commercial and art, or 'exhibition' photography.

His black and white images linger as visions of a stark, somewhat haunting clarity, with a monumental identity shaped by mysterious, rich, dark blacks with elegant, softly graded greys, and firm, luminous, glowing whites that define space and form. Alas, the Ennis book has published only four architectural images. The skill of the photographer becomes clear when one sees a set of more than ordinary snapshots that capture just what is there in the hectic shambles of the everyday appearance. Street View is the most accessible reference here to highlight the difference between the nonchalant snapshot, the world as seen by the passersby, and the considered, selected photographic image.

Street View.*

The great photographer . . . must be able to see 'in a very special way in accord with your whole self, your birthright, your education, your nervous system, your physical being, your reflexes and all that go to make up the intensity of a man or a woman.' (p.418)

The words come up repeatedly in architectural talks where the presenter showing images of projects, photographs that have been taken by the office, notes without irony that "the project has not been photographed yet." What is being said is that the artistry of the professional photographer has not yet transformed the everyday into deliberately orchestrated compositions that delight the eye and brighten the spirit with an enlightened identity. Max Dupain was a master at this. He would plan his shoots after walking around the project, feeling it, sensing the potential qualities he might chose to reveal in his photographs, while figuring out how best to capture his envisaged spirit/essence.#

. . .

great photographs . . . must not be 'mere illustrations of the world scene, but distillations of observations of unique subjects and their impact on . . . [a photographer's] inner-most feelings . . . the interpretation of these elements in his own terms of heart and mind . .   Just that.'  (p.418)

Ennis's biographical portrait elaborates on the artistry that Dupain brought to all of his work, highlighting his commitment to his profession that has made him an Aussie icon. The book, called simply Max Dupain: A Portrait (Fourth Estate, Harper Collins, Australia, 2024), is as clear and certain, and as beguiling as a constructed Dupain image, with its highlights, careful research, and deep emotional 'darks' that define Dupain as a 'complex man.' He said that he kept the three aspects of his life separate: his domestic life; his work; and the world of his own creation - 'his thoughts, his philosophy, and his abstract self.'

Meaning comes from feeling and must not be side-tracked by the intellect. (p.426)

The book is an easy, informative, and interesting read, well written and thoroughly researched. It nearly adopts the structured pattern of Hugh Brody's Maps and Dreams, (Faber, London, 2005), where factual chapters presenting a narrated story of a journey are intertwined with pieces on the mystery of dreaming: see - https://voussoirs.blogspot.com/2021/08/design-as-dreaming-hunt-not-hunting.html. Ennis punctuates some of the chapters/sections with short texts talking about a particular image that is presented as a full page print. It is a shame that this rigour was not maintained throughout the book to include more detail descriptions of and discussions on some of the images spoken about. Perhaps the book could have illustrated some of Dupain's sources, his inspirations, in these in-between slots. The book is full of Dupain images, yet sometimes one goes looking for photographs that have been spoken of or described in the text as being critical to the story, sometimes referring to work not by Dupain, but they are not there. Alas, one supposes that not everything can be achieved in a book covering the breadth of such an intense emotional life.

The published images do give an indication of the general discussion points being made, but digitisation and printing on a soft, textured paper seems to have fuzzed the significant details that the text might be referring to, like freckles, focus, and features. One can see the difference in the images when looked up online, and can only imagine the crisp detail in the original Dupain print. We are told that Dupain was fastidious with his prints. One supposes he might have been somewhat disappointed with the book, but possibly only in regards to the quality of the images.

His (Dupain's) approach was not theoretical or studied, but attitudinal and visual. (p.119)

The book is a delightfully informative read without the laboured stringency of an academic structure/stricture. Remarkably one did not come across any errors - see: https://voussoirs.blogspot.com/2024/05/john-dalton-shades-of-style.html and  https://voussoirs.blogspot.com/2025/02/robin-gibson-postscript.html. It is a portrait of a man who disliked academia. The publication elaborates on the complexities and enigmas in Dupain's life and his inspirations and aspirations, leaping about with issues being raised where they need to be rather than being defined precisely by any particular time scale or preconceived sequence. One can sense the dismissive 'Dupain' care, rigour, and clarity in the expressive writing.

The disappointment is that, when architectural photography has taken so much of his professional life, it has been given very little detailed attention in this publication, being treated more as an arty aside while his real 'arty' or ‘exhibition’ work has become the centrepiece of the text. Is it because the general subject matter - beach scenes, bathers, landscapes, flowers, and portraits - could appeal more to the masses who might not be interested in the pictorial exhibits of elitist, stylish architecture? Perhaps this architectural work is another book: Dupain And The Architects? One was written on painter Lloyd Rees: see https://voussoirs.blogspot.com/2025/12/lloyd-rees-and-architects.html. Such a publication would be an intriguing read.

Helen Ennis finishes her 'portrait' with the words:  'No amount of photography on his part, or affirmation of its worth on ours, could ease his restlessness and assuage his self-doubt.' I am a little uneasy with this conclusion. I am only going on what Ennis has written, and never met Dupain, (although on many occasions I had wished he had been able to photograph my work), but these concluding words seem to reveal Dupain as a damaged, struggling, disturbed, somewhat flawed individual: aren't we all? Yet one senses that he was very much in control of things, and as complete and competent as anyone; maybe more rigorous and committed than most.

. . . someone who makes pictures 'for himself, not for an admiring group of acolytes. He makes them, in simple terms, because he has to.' (p.357)

Perhaps his doubting is not about himself, but represents that constant struggle with wonder, respecting it, not wishing to handle it with the arrogance or brash, blind certainty that we see in the egocentric approach by others today, boldly described as bespoke self-expression: MY work. Rather, is this questioning effort a matter of humility, of knowing how fragile meaning is, how easily it is trampled by those who know nothing of it and care only for their own glory and promoted identity?

Ennis has noted that others give meaning; perhaps she meant that others attribute a variety of associations to a work, in the same way that nicknames are given to people, places, and perceptions, saying more about the individual or society than any inherent quality of the subject. Can one suggest that Dupain managed meaning with such care that he never assumed that he had got close to it, let alone captured it, for fear of any unnecessary disturbance and destruction of its elusive, sensitive qualities? It seems that he was not boastful enough to claim supremacy, remaining hesitant; uncertain; with a gently probing search, the quest that tradition identifies as a continuing hunt into nothingness: If you find the Buddha on the way, kill him. Cavafy seems to have summed the situation up in Ithaka:

Ithaka gave you the marvelous journey.

Without her you wouldn't have set out.

She has nothing left to give you now.

'Nothing' is a word enigmatically used by Dupain.

Dupain's doubt seemed to be such that, even when the Sunbaker obtained its iconic position, (our affirmation of its worth), he never accepted this as being anything more than populism rather than a recognition of true meaning and embodied power. It appears as though he saw the acceptance of this image simply as its being seen as an interestingly different, decorative thing grabbed and used by the masses for their own individual, selfish purposes, as a convenient, celebratory, perhaps decorative distraction with numerous associations, without ever knowing about or caring for any integral beauty, that wonder embodied in Beethoven's et.al. works that were quietly loved by Dupain. Did he see this approach as something like using Beethoven for Muzac or elevator music? Which true artist has no self-doubt other than the self-promoted charlaton who, like a politician, knows no shame? Dupain, it seems, held a searching and questioning coherence/integrity that always respected the mystery of meaning, never assuming he had mastered it, or had come close to touching this amorphous, ethereal 'inner' quality. Was his art not about self-expression, but rather a searching for a revelation, wanting to grasp meaning in much the same manner as the traditional artist, hoping to reveal, at best and at least, just one minute aspect of 'holiness' - of wonder?

. . . as soon as they are made, they are potentially free of their autobiographical, social, cultural and historic moorings, and subject to all manner of uses and interpretations. This again is where complicity is relevant because 'we'  - the photograph's audiences - make the meaning and establish the significance. In the case of Sunbaker, Dupain was only one agent among many involved in its circulation and interpretation. (p.379-380)

Could one understand that he was not restless or self-doubting personally, but was always aware of the full glory and beauty of the unknown, its wholesome wholeness that is so easily destroyed, defaced, when touched? Was this his precious third world? Who wouldn't be restless with self-doubt in this condition of humble respect and knowing care? Who wouldn't despise the masses who treat meaning as bespoke entertainment - as 'interesting' fun and games? Dupain's (Lindsay's) vision of the artist as 'a special type of human being' seems to refer to those who sense something of this mystery and have respect for it, (c f. Dupain discovering the pilot listening to music), rather than to any smug, superior satisfaction in self and self-expression, where the artist is seen as an exceptional being: a bespoke, genius, superman. Dupain seems to have lived and loved for the meaning he could feel, finally acknowledging that there is nothing - nothing that can really embalm it or get close to this mystery without destroying it: killing the thing loved; the found Buddha; leaving one only with the journey. Is this the context of his repeated reference to 'nothing'?

His (Dupain's) approach was not theoretical or studied, but attitudinal and visual. (p.119)

Ennis's analysis of the photograph of the orchid attributes much to one of his last flower images that she interprets, almost nostalgically, as being intimately meaningful to Dupain. Is this pure speculation; making a pattern fit a story, or is it vice versa? One struggles to see the point that might only have been the result of a cunning printing technique or a simple matter of focus - perhaps both - or does the actual print reveal much more that this hazy digital reproduction that presents a fuzz of petals? Dupain was always wary of the intellect.

Dupain was always at pains to make sure his prints were printed correctly, with sensitivity. It was never a matter of a mere mechanical process, a recipe, a formula to follow. Is this why he left the majority of his 'exhibition' negatives to his assistant, someone who might be aware of his intentions? His photography rejected the scientific approach and was rooted in emotions and feelings. Perhaps this is the source of his 'doubting restlessness' - the uncertainty of subtle emotions being appropriately managed; the wariness of abusing/misusing/misrepresenting this integrity; always hesitantly avoiding the arrogance of believing one had captured it.

Dupain might appear arrogant, aloof, with his loner's dismissive 'watching' approach to society, but did this stance arise from his commitment to his vision? Frank Lloyd Wright named this 'honest arrogance' that outshone a 'dishonest humility'; a knowing that brings with it a serious responsibility that demands caution and respect - a constant, agitated questioning, lest meaning is trampled upon by the demanding quest of the self.

Willian Yang.

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THE PHOTOGRAPHIC LIFE

I am critical of this artistry that becomes the public face of a work, defining for the viewer how the building is to be perceived/experienced, while encouraging others to try to reproduce this photographed visual wonder as something special and brilliant as a built work with a bespoke expression shaping the thing itself, defining it, ready to be further transformed by the photographer into more extreme, exotic images.

The relationship between photography and architecture needs clarification and caution, with an acknowledgement of the sophisticated limitations of this special way of seeing 'an instant' that holds its own substance in its essence rather than being a part of the thing itself. There is a significant difference here: that between the sensing, feeling body experiencing space and place, and the eye of the photographer capturing an interpretation, a manipulated visual image using the thing as its subject matter. One can say that these images are photographs of the architecture, the building, and they are; but they are interpretations of it rather than representing the thing itself that stands in the everyday, stitched into place within a complex context; with particular functions as its purpose. To try to extrapolate the essence of the image as being something to do with the vital quality of the building, is a fantasy that stretches hope just too far.

Yet we do this and come to know nearly everything today through its image as presented to us by the artifice of the photographer who has manipulated identity with tools and techniques that have their own ambitions, whims, styles, and intents - intensities that we hopefully adopt as the stark reality of wonder embodied integrally in the architecture, when it is otherwise, a difference revealed by Street View. So it is that architects say that the project has not yet been photographed - that it has not yet been subjected to the spin of the photographer that is much the same as political spin, and the spin of the advertisement and promotional material, e.g. that of tourism that encourages the everyday to be dismissed and replaced by the balmy glories and expectations stimulated by the photographer's ruse. The photograph is a representation of the building as interpreted by the photographer; it is not the building itself that involves a rich and different set of circumstances held in a living immediacy, not a vision that has been extrapolated and isolated to be held in time by the skill of the photographer to create something that has never be seen before.

Are we living 'the photographed life' where all visions hopes and ambitions are driven by photographs with everyone striving to live this vision? Do architects do likewise: try to create the mystery of the photographed vision in the thing itself, in order to accommodate the photographed presentation of a lifestyle? Influencers use photography to impress: lives seek out the visions presented by them by photographs and videos, and in movies too - things, life situations, experiences, etc., ‘the full catastrophe’ as Zorba said (in the film Zorba the Greek: irony intended).

T.S Eliot: the shadow . . . always falls between the idea and the reality. (p.335)

We are left with the question: how do we re-establish any understanding of meaning and its meaning? How can we know meaning in a ‘Street View’ world?

Meaning comes from feeling and must not be side-tracked by the intellect. (p.426)

POSTSCRIPT

Man Ray.

Man Ray urged his readers to recognise the limits of their own timidity and push past them, disregarding the inhibiting factors 'of shame or of propriety.'  (p.116)

Dupain.

A publication picked up by pure chance in Toowoomba after just finishing the Ennis book: Annie Baldassari, Picasso - Love and War 1935 - 1945 Life with Dora Maar, Flammarion, Paris, 2006 - reproduces some Man Ray images. Here we see portraits with the arm raised as an arc over the head in the same way as we see it repeated in the Dupain studies. There is also the portrait of Picasso with his hand to his face, bringing to mind some Dupain images where hands play an important role. It would have been good to have seen this parallel in the book. What else might one discover?

Picasso (Man Ray).

Norman Lindsay (Max Dupain).

The same book has published dozens of photos by Dora Maar who gets mentioned once in the Ennis book - (p.131); one can see the similarities here too. There are also photographic portraits taken by Pablo Picasso that remind one of a few of Dupain's whimsical images. Perhaps these associations are for yet another book? Interestingly, plates 143 and 145 are line drawings by Picasso that reveal some of the qualities captured in Dupain's work.

A collection of Dora Maar and Man Ray images using cast shadow pattern overlays on their subjects is a technique seen in Dupain's work too. The more one looks, the more one discovers the inspirations. Dare one suggest that Dupain's questioning, his restless struggling, involved the great Australian cringe? Was Picasso's painting of Dora Maar on the beach, Plate 101, the inspiration for the Sunbather?

"Australian art is every bit as good as what happens overseas," Harding says. [Pictured: Birth of Venus (1939) by Max Dupain] (Supplied: National Gallery of Australia)

https://www.abc.net.au/news/2025-09-23/man-ray-max-dupain-photography-exhibition-heide-melbourne/105790024

Why does this have to be said?

Although Dora Maar is only mentioned once by Ennis, her influence seems much greater than is suggested by this aside, perhaps being on par with that of Man Ray? Given Dupain's apparent problem with women in his profession, (one thinks of Olive Cotton here), might Dupain have had an issue with Maar's work being such an inspirational guide? She was close to Picasso and was involved with Man Ray. Dupain must have been aware of this work and the exciting experimental photographic approach taken by those at the heart of Modernism. Some of Dupain's experimental abstract works look remarkably similar to Maar's work.

Dupain.

The cover photograph on the Picasso book is a print of a negative taken by Maar. It is starkly impressive. Did Dupain ever experiment with the negative print in this way?

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NOTE

The Edmund Barton Building in Canberra, Australia was photographed by Max Dupain for Harry Seidler, and can be seen in its context on Google Earth.

Edmund Barton Building, Canberra, Australia.