Mac Betts Kookynie
1993
https://www.aasd.com.au/artist/498-mac-betts/works-in-past-sales/?page=3
Since
migrating to Western Australia in the 1970s, Mac Betts was never content to
merely observe the edges of the continent—he journeyed deep into the remote
landscapes of the Goldfields desert and isolated terrains. Trained in the traditions of European
modernism at Kingston-on-Thames and Goldsmiths College, University of London,
Betts carried with him a formal foundation that would later collide with the
raw, untamed spirit of the Australian outback. His travels through Africa and
Morocco further expanded his painterly store house of memory, but it was the remote landscape
of Western Australia that truly shifted his painting systems toward an original
vision.
After settling in Perth, Betts taught painting at WAIT and
later at Curtin University. Yet his true canvas lay far beyond the university
studios. He ventured deep into the Goldfields and remote wilderness—terrains
that are unforgiving if you make a mistake, and which few Western artists had
had take on as a serious motif for a sustained legnth of time. Where others saw desolation, Betts saw a large untamed studio: a land stripped of distraction, where silence reigned and the elemental
presence of nature resonated louder than civilization ever could.
Bett's landscapes were not mere representations; they were
meditations. The outback, with its vast horizons and haunting stillness, became
his painterly Nirvana. Like a permanent guest in the Hotel California, Betts
found himself unable—and unwilling—to leave. The land seeped into his
brushstrokes, transforming his vision into something so compelling that, when I
saw it at the State Gallery of Western Australia, I felt compelled to visit
that alien terrain myself.
In Betts’ work, the viewer is not just looking at a
place—they are entering it. His paintings invite immersion, a surrender to the
silence and solitude that defined his artistic life. Through his eyes, the
remote becomes intimate, the barren becomes beautiful, and the land itself
becomes a silent collaborator in the act of creation.
His paintings of the Goldfields are not fleeting impressions
or picturesque renderings. They are the result of prolonged engagement, deep
observation, and a kind of optical meditation. Unlike Fred Williams, whose
Pilbara works can feel like elegant postcards from a brief encounter, Betts’
canvases are saturated with the textures of time and toil. His studio praxis
was one of total immersion: absorbing the hues of magenta-red earth, the
contrast of rusted relics from mining pasts, and the scars of machine scraping
etched into the landscape like ancient glyphs.
In the painting titled Kookynie, set nearly halfway between
Laverton and Kalgoorlie, there is a glimpse of the remnants from a once-thriving
gold mining town. A handful of buildings remain intact, with industrial relics
slowly dissolve into the surrounding landscape. In Betts’ depiction of the
Goldfields, massive mining machinery—scarred, weather-beaten, and rusted into
deep magentas—stands as a testament to the harshness of the terrain. These
relics, disfigured by years of scraping and scarring, seem to linger in quiet
delay, awaiting their inevitable demise. Yet, under the desert sun and the shifting
moods of remote7s weather, they're transformed—beautified, even—into a symphony
of hues and contrasts. It’s a hauntingly beautiful portrait of past and present
life in the outback, where decay and resilience coexist in harmony.
Betts’ approach to landscape painting evokes the spirit of
Caspar David Friedrich—not in style, but in attitude. Like Friedrich’s solitary
figures contemplating the vastness of Northern Germany, Betts was at home in
isolation. His works resonate with a quiet intensity, even when hung on gallery
walls far removed from the terrain that birthed them. They are not just
representations—they are transmissions from a place where silence speaks louder
than words.
In Betts’ world, painting the remote landscape was never about mere depiction—it was about translating sensation into impact, channeling memory and emotion directly onto the canvas. He did not seek to conquer the land; he observed it, listened to it, and allowed it to speak through his brush. In doing so, Betts gave Australian landscape painting a distinct voice from the forgotten corners of the continent—places where the land itself becomes the subject, the story, and the soul.
Peter
Davidson
