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Not quite straight: A memoir
Australian artist Jeffrey Smart's wicked and utterly engaging memoir.
Born in respectable ( dull) Adelaide in 1921, Jeffrey Smart made his first Grand Tour of Europe at age 4. By 5 he had discovered Sex (with a female classmate) and Crime. By 18 he'd decided he was the only person in Australia who was 'not quite straight'.
The subsequent decades brought further enlightenment, more travel, study with Fernand Leger, artistic development, adventures high and low, international acclaim, friends famous and infamous and - fittingly for someone who refers to himself as 'a European who carries an Australian passport' - a permanent return to the ancient, sun-soaked landscape of Tuscany.
This is Jeffrey Smart's account of that very full life. He writes with a wicked wit of his family, friends and lovers, and of his jobs, including being the much-loved Phidias in ABC Radio's 'The Argonauts' and the more lowly position of sink-scrubber on a slow boat to London, before finding fame as an artist. Throughout he is candid, funny and engaging.
Like Smart's paintings, Not Quite Straight offers a singular perspective shaped by a unique life.
Born in respectable ( dull) Adelaide in 1921, Jeffrey Smart made his first Grand Tour of Europe at age 4. By 5 he had discovered Sex (with a female classmate) and Crime. By 18 he'd decided he was the only person in Australia who was 'not quite straight'.
The subsequent decades brought further enlightenment, more travel, study with Fernand Leger, artistic development, adventures high and low, international acclaim, friends famous and infamous and - fittingly for someone who refers to himself as 'a European who carries an Australian passport' - a permanent return to the ancient, sun-soaked landscape of Tuscany.
This is Jeffrey Smart's account of that very full life. He writes with a wicked wit of his family, friends and lovers, and of his jobs, including being the much-loved Phidias in ABC Radio's 'The Argonauts' and the more lowly position of sink-scrubber on a slow boat to London, before finding fame as an artist. Throughout he is candid, funny and engaging.
Like Smart's paintings, Not Quite Straight offers a singular perspective shaped by a unique life.
464 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1996
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Displaying 1 - 7 of 7 reviews
November 28, 2023
my love for jeffrey smart really doing the heavy lifting during this reading experience
May 5, 2012
Nobody said a good painter has to be a good writer. Case in point, "Not quite straight" , a memoir of sorts from acclaimed artist Jeffrey Smart. Long-winded and lacking in scope, this book is a hard sell and its covers are too far apart.
Jeffrey Smart was a talented Australian artist whose art is reminiscent of Magritte and Hopper with some Piero de la Francesca thrown in for good measure. He traveled extensively and lived in Adelaide and Italy for the most part. This memoirs are literally a recollection of every trip and every individual Jeffrey ever met. While the story of his trip from Australia to London in a cargo ship had its moments, the rest of it sounds like a lot of name dropping, trip planning and concert going.
The description of his own art seems limited to choice of subject matter, no particular idea or technique is mentioned except for some story about varnish and a few mentions of models and abstract attempts. It's as if his main life's activity was just an excuse for the rest. I did enjoy his rant about abstract expressionism, Julian Schnabel and Warhol however. Smart seems pretty blind to the very fact that his images are also contrived despite being figurative in nature.
The book itself has only one painting reproduction, a portrait of Jeffrey's first lover Laurie. His mostly ill-fated love affairs are hinted to be numerous but the description of his lovers is reduced to their mere physical beauty (and some of them would today probably have landed him and his friend Donald Friend in prison). He seems to have preyed on younger men and lose interest quickly when he ended inevitably feeling used. Ian, an eighteen year old promising artist he met ( Jeffrey was already 43 ) was probably the most tragic case as poor Ian ended a drug addict and derelict.
His worries about money are abundant but it seems his generation could survive on almost nothing. I found that intriguing. There is only one mention of "trying to live by the brush instead of using wily financial schemes" (aprox. quot.) when he was trying to become financially independent through stock purchasing and house renting.
Smart's eventual success and the evident delight he reveals in his fame and famous acquaintances comes across gossipy and vain. Instead of making me enjoy this man's art more, I started to find it formulaic and stiff, like his prose. May be his writing cannot reflect what he expressed better in painting, may be it's just part for the course that painters in the 60's had to make a show both of detachment and connections. The world of galleries and "inside trading" was a big deal only a few decades ago. But I'd just skip this book and go to the museum instead.
Jeffrey Smart was a talented Australian artist whose art is reminiscent of Magritte and Hopper with some Piero de la Francesca thrown in for good measure. He traveled extensively and lived in Adelaide and Italy for the most part. This memoirs are literally a recollection of every trip and every individual Jeffrey ever met. While the story of his trip from Australia to London in a cargo ship had its moments, the rest of it sounds like a lot of name dropping, trip planning and concert going.
The description of his own art seems limited to choice of subject matter, no particular idea or technique is mentioned except for some story about varnish and a few mentions of models and abstract attempts. It's as if his main life's activity was just an excuse for the rest. I did enjoy his rant about abstract expressionism, Julian Schnabel and Warhol however. Smart seems pretty blind to the very fact that his images are also contrived despite being figurative in nature.
The book itself has only one painting reproduction, a portrait of Jeffrey's first lover Laurie. His mostly ill-fated love affairs are hinted to be numerous but the description of his lovers is reduced to their mere physical beauty (and some of them would today probably have landed him and his friend Donald Friend in prison). He seems to have preyed on younger men and lose interest quickly when he ended inevitably feeling used. Ian, an eighteen year old promising artist he met ( Jeffrey was already 43 ) was probably the most tragic case as poor Ian ended a drug addict and derelict.
His worries about money are abundant but it seems his generation could survive on almost nothing. I found that intriguing. There is only one mention of "trying to live by the brush instead of using wily financial schemes" (aprox. quot.) when he was trying to become financially independent through stock purchasing and house renting.
Smart's eventual success and the evident delight he reveals in his fame and famous acquaintances comes across gossipy and vain. Instead of making me enjoy this man's art more, I started to find it formulaic and stiff, like his prose. May be his writing cannot reflect what he expressed better in painting, may be it's just part for the course that painters in the 60's had to make a show both of detachment and connections. The world of galleries and "inside trading" was a big deal only a few decades ago. But I'd just skip this book and go to the museum instead.
October 9, 2018
One of the most disappointing (artists’) autobiographies ever written! Boooring! So much useless detail, probably written from diary notes. So many uninteresting “stories” related by unknown people. Pedestrian is the only word for it. Skim-read half of it. Yet the guy led a fascinatingly nomadic life between Australia and Europe. His passage on board a ship from Wellington to Liverpool is well-written and eye-opening. And then there is his homosexuality (never referred to as being gay). Why did the telling of this side of his life disappointment? I have a feeling it was probably just Smart’s personality because we never really get to know him. He comes across as a shell. So much fuss is made about arrangements and meetings and who’s-who. No doubt a touch of snobbery comes through (my god, who keeps a Visitor’s Book for guests?). But unfortunately this is the milieu of this artist’s world. Don’t expect a romantic depiction of an artist’s life. More ink is used on exhibitions than examining the unique eye he had as an artist. This was why I wanted to read the book. I also knew one of his artist friends, Michael Shannon (whom I didn’t realise was inadvertently responsible for Smart’s happy final relationship). This book is best as a general background for those studying Jeffrey Smart’s art. I don’t think he wanted to write it. Maybe the publishers persuaded him to ($). No doubt financially he lived precariously for many many years (THAT part of the story is interesting) so I don’t begrudge him this swansong.
December 16, 2021
If you wanted to know more about Jeffrey Smart's art, this book isn't going to help you much. Nonetheless. this gossipy, anecdotal, bitchy and name-dropping memoir provides interesting insight into the experience of Australian artists growing up in the first half of the twentieth century and explains the emigration and the diaspora of so many.
August 24, 2022
Funny, poignant and Smart.
June 29, 2014
Wow! Just goes to show, perseverance and dedication is how you hone your craft and become a great. So glad Jeffrey chased the pleasure artistic relief over money. Do glad he wrote it down, it's inspiring.
Is it a good book, a bit slow in parts, sure, but I loved learning about how he came to be. His experience of Australia when he was growing up, his experience in how Rome has changed. I felt like I was right there.
Is it a good book, a bit slow in parts, sure, but I loved learning about how he came to be. His experience of Australia when he was growing up, his experience in how Rome has changed. I felt like I was right there.
October 30, 2012
Anyone who loves Smart's paintings - as I do - and grew up in the era of the ABC program The Argonauts, will find this absorbing. And he writes quite well, lived an interesting life largely in Italy these past decades. What it meant to grow up a gay artist in Australia a few generations ago...
Displaying 1 - 7 of 7 reviews