An insight into the life of Australian artist, Bill Pidgeon (Wep) 1909 – 1981
Dear Graham,
This is the river Danube which runs through Budapest. The city on the side of the river nearest you is Pest. The city on the other side is Buda. Hence Buda-Pest. I haven’t had time to look at the place, and I am now out at the airport spending Hungarian forints (that’s the name of their money) as fast as I can because they are of no further use to me. Lots of love to you & Trellie. I am off to Bucharest.
Love dad.
Dear Graham,
Don’t you believe what you see on the front of this card. It is early in the morning – it is very hot – and nobody has been swimming.
We about very soon off to Singapore. It is now 7;30am.
Love Dad
Dear Mugs,
Had a magnificently smooth trip up and landed about 5:30am in the blinking dark. They seem to have the clocks too fast up here because it was about 6:30am local time before we had the dawn. It is very hot and the birds make different noises outside in the scrub. They caw and gurgle, and the ensemble has a liquid, gurgling note. Not sharp & gay, as in the antiquary No. 85.
I’m dying for a long cold beer but suppose I’ll have to wait till I get back on the plane. We are at a dump in the never-never called Berrimah. Qantas have a comfortable sort of motel looking establishment here. Bedrooms sprawled in lines round a swimming pool, dining room, etc. Unfortunately we don’t go anywhere near Darwin town. I’d like to have seen it – It was Sep 1945 when I last came through.
In 1956, acclaimed Australian artist, William Edwin Pidgeon (WEP) was issued with a visa for travel behind the “Iron Curtain” to Romania as part of a cultural exchange program. This series of posts includes extracts from letters he sent back home to his wife, Dorothy and son, Graham, describing his adventures and depicting the places, people and life as he witnessed them. Included with posts will be some of the photos he took and art work inspired from his trip. Earlier that year Wep had been diagnosed with glaucoma in both eyes, a secret closely guarded for years to come for the potential impact it could have upon his ability to obtain painting commissions. Within his Romanian papers is a handwritten note; “My eyes are troubling me very much.”
Wep’s travel arrangements came to the attention of the Australian Security Intelligence Organisation (ASIO) with a consequence that he was monitored by ASIO for the next three years. Two other Australians were also invited; actor, Peter O’Shaugnessey and author, Frank Hardy.
Wep left Sydney on September 22, 1956 with stopovers in Darwin, Singapore, Rome, Venice, Munich, and Vienna. He arrived in Budapest, Hungary on October 2nd, travelling to Bucharest in Romania the next day. He spent two weeks in Romania, returning to Vienna on October 18. Five days later a cloud fell over Hungary when widespread revolt erupted against the Soviet backed government leading to its fall from power. On November 4, the Soviets invaded, crushing the revolt, and by November 10, all resistance had ceased.
From Vienna, Wep traveled to Paris where he planned to stay with his old friend and journalist, Roley Pullen. It was here that he met Roley’s assistant, another fellow Australian, Margaret Murray, with whom he formed a lifetime friendship. He remained in Paris for for just over two weeks, then a similar amount of time in London, finally arriving back home in Sydney on December 2, 1956.
Wep Goes Over the Top
Wep is married. To the un-initiated let it be said that Wep is one of Sy d n e y’ s brilliant young artists of the most modern school, and on Thursday he took unto himself a Mrs. William Edwin Pidgeon, for that is Wep’s real name. The bride, was Miss Jessie Graham, only child of Mr. and Mrs. Ceorge O. [sic – A.] Graham, of Brighton, while Wep is the youngest son of Mrs. Thirza Pidgeon and the late Frederick Pidgeon. The ceremony was performed quietly at St. Stephen’s Church, by the Rev. R. McCowan, the bride wearing a dainty frock of pink angel’s skin, and she added a white hat. Her father gave her away. A reception lunch was held at Farmer’s, after which Mr. and Mrs. W. E. Pidgeon left by car for Kosciusko for a fortnight’s honeymoon.
![St. Stephen's Church, Phillip Street, Sydney. The church was demolished just after Wep's wedding to make way for the Martin Place extension and a new church built in Macquarie St. [Photo - Sydney Architecture Images- "Gone but not forgotten", St Stephen's Church, http://sydneyarchitecture.com/GON/GON126.htm, viewed 20 Aug 2016]](http://wepidgeon.com/pidgeonpost/wp-content/uploads/2016/08/St-Stephens-GON-126-02.jpg)
Dear Jesso,
It looks as if I have been talking in a delirium. It is understandable that I thought I was home – God knows I ought to have been. Any bloody way I’m still waiting for a sanguinary plane and none is in sight. Oh Lord, why hast thou forsaken me?
All my little fums are to be so much air and fantasy, my little desires to be monuments of futility, and any welcomes to be jeering nothings.
I’ve given up predicting my arrival – it rests in the lap of the Lodestars.
What’s the point of my writing about nothing but sitting down near the strip waiting for a kite?
I hope I’ll be seeing my family one of these days. Teach little Graham to speak nicely and to think well of his old pa overseas. Be faithful dear, we shall soon start life anew.
Your old old husband, Remember?
Lotsa X’s
Bill
That was Bill’s last letter. It is estimated he made it home by Sunday, 4 February 1945
AMERICAN RED CROSS letterhead
[Note at top]
It’s worth it for a guilder
Dear Mrs Pidgeon,
Am languishing for want of transport and you. (and Bub of course!) My! But doesn’t he look well – the cleber lill debil. Doesn’t look as if you have been fattening yourself up for me – anyway you’re still just as nice as you are. How nice will that be today – my little poppet?
This is a stinking hot island situated about 50 miles from the equator & although the breeze flowing in from the sea licks the body with a cool tongue it cannot altogether dispel the sweat. It rolls with steady calculation down the chest. I’ve got any amount of the stuff for the Weekly so I’m very conscious of the time wasted in getting home.
Anyhow now that I’m right here in the house how’s about it and a cuppa tea? Are you pleased to see me home? Lots of love darling give me bub for a while.
Willie
AMERICAN RED CROSS letterhead
Darling,
I should be home by the end of the week. I hope that pleases both you and young Graham. Unfortunately I will not receive any letters from you now as I’m leaving this island in the morning and shall be staying a few days on another closer to home. I would like to have known if the dear little chap has noticed my absence although it seems silly to think that he should – at his age at least. I dare say that even 3 weeks will have caused a marked change in his size & behaviour – to my keen fresh eye.
I don’t know where the boys have gone so I’ll use Eddie’s machine for a while. Went over one of the navy ships today and didn’t get back until after tea was over. It was an eye-opener of a trip but I can’t say much about it in this letter.
Yesterday went up the coast in a “duck” (one of those amphibious motor vehicles you may have seen in the streets at times). It is all so damn silly to be driving straight from a road in to the sea. The authorities gave us permission to visit Daoe [Daeo, Daejo or Doewo] village which is just outside the perimeter which is held by the yanks. There are about 2300 natives in the little area. Some are refugees from the Celebes and Borneo.
I’ve never seen so many blooming children in one spot before – must have been about 4 to every adult. The natives here are much more civilised than those of New Guinea. Under Dutch control they are well looked after. Schooling is compulsory and they are taught to speak and write Malay. The village also sports a hospital, which is under the guidance of a Javanese doctor who graduated in a medical school in Java. A pretty good job considering the wildness of the country. The people are rather good looking some of the little girls particularly so. The babies are cute but dirty and all of them are covered in yaws whatever they may be…they look pretty horrid anyway.
The boys seem to think me a bit nuts posting you a letter which will in all probability arrive home after me. However you like letters and I’m a very obliging gentleman.
I hope you are just as obliging my pet. Looks like me getting home on Saturday. So beware! Beware! Lotsa luv, luv.
Hope mum’s alright.
Bill.
Please make an appointment for me for Donkin in one month
Darling –
Have just returned from a picture show down the road – it is a wonderful night full of moonlight (and) mild breezes, long slender trees screen the moon as searchlights: fingering the sky while invisible birds pipe a flute like obligato to movies on the screen.
That was the set up an hour ago – but since we returned at 9.30 and had a cuppa in the mess it has started raining. Weather is odd & unpredictable and Eddie Dunstan has started playing his mechanical letter writing machine. That cuppa I spoke of was the first we have had on the island. It is as scarce as a hot cocky’s -. All food supplies seem to be released by the US forces, consequently the choice has been between coffee, cocoa and water. Seems that a liberty ship brought some stores in today. Hence a great chuffing of choofers* as the gentlemen of the camp settle down to the reviving brew.
*Choofer – a device, cribbed from the Americans, consisting of a tank containing high grade petrol which is held into a pipe line which terminates in a coil. Like a vrooming primus – see!
I’d like to see you and bub, darling. Seems ages since that Tuesday less than a fortnight ago. I shall certainly be back before the month is out. I ask you – will that be good or bad? How is the little sprog? (generic name for children in these parts.) Have been looking forward to a letter from you these last couple of days although as you do, can work it out I should not get one until tomorrow even had you answered mine straightaway. I hope one turns up for it would be nice to make some contact with you. You’d like it up here for a couple of weeks. Climate would be right in your barrow although a bit sweaty for the little man.
The lights are due to go out in a second – so goodnight my love.
Sunday 8.30am [28 Jan 1945]. Have just had breakfast – was cooked by 2 terrific explosions – Eddie & I went down to the strip & saw the remains of a big bomber which went up whilst taking off. A pretty awesome site. Will write you again tonight – mail is being collected now – Love from Bill.
Darling,
Am sitting down somewhere on this bloody island supposedly watching a game of Australian Rules football which is being played between some lads from the squadron I’m with & some naval ratings off a ship which came in a couple of days ago. I’m sitting on the back seat of a jeep and it’s raining. I am bored to the point of not being able to breathe. I can’t go back to the camp as I don’t know where it is. I must wait till the dreary finish for I’m damned if I know what the blooming game is all about – just seems to be an aimless scramble to me.
Have had lots of rain since we arrived on the island – it comes & finishes as a snap of the fingers. We all sat through the movies & the deluge last night – huddled in ground sheets and gas capes while planes & search lights sliced the sky. I was conscious of the fact that the war is indeed not far away. The pilots we are stationed with are off on a bash to a Jap area in the morning – quite a do so far as I can gather.
Am almost off to sleep – so will snooze the game out. Will manage a little more letter tonight if I have the strength.
-After tea
Am alone for a while.
Friday 7:30 am [26 Jan 1945]
I wasn’t for long. Interrupted so went off to tea. After the meal was invited down to have a pot of beer with a bunch of pilots on the other side of the Alley. It was beer issue day – the boys here get 2 doz. bottles of American beer a month. The bottles hold only 2 glasses and the beer is very light – about 3% alcohol I should say. Very pleasant never the less. Stayed wagging till about 12pm. Eddie [Dunstan] went on the do at 6am the next morning and was back at 10am. Apparently the raid was very successful and with no damage to the Beaufighters. Eddie got a story out of it, but Jack [Hickson] and I saw no sense in sticking our neck out for the sake of mere curiosity as it is almost impossible to get any sort of vision from the Beaufighter. You can only crane your neck over the pilot’s head if you want to see anything at all. Spent another day down on the strip – and have just about had this island now. There is very little stuff which one could call exclusive to this place. I intend to leave the boys & come home early – within a fortnight I should say. Conditions for doing a completed job are very nigh impossible.
Have been thinking quite a lot of you and the beautiful Bub. Hope he is well & has a full set of tats by the time I get home. How are you keeping yourself? Eat hearty & don’t leave our little man out on the street corner too often. Lot of love dear. I do hope Mum [Mary Jane Graham nee Wray] is alright.
Love from your ratty husband.
[Jess’s father, George Alexander Graham passed away on 14 January 1945. He was buried 16 January, the day Wep left Sydney.]
![[Study for Fortuna III and Thelma]](http://wepidgeon.com/pidgeonpost/wp-content/uploads/2014/01/WEP-45-A-1890-P.jpg)
