Sunday Auction Collector's Art Market

Bert and Shirley Whittle were influential pioneers of the Western Australian art market, well connected through Bert’s time at the Art Gallery of Western Australia, yet they consistently flew under the radar when it came to seeking endorsements or the approval of their peers. Confident in their own opinions about art, they left it to others to push agendas, preferring instead to quietly champion the work they enjoyed and believed in—whether local or international.

I first met them in 1980, not long after Bert had left the employ of the Art Gallery of Western Australia to establish himself as a private gallery director and restorer of paintings and works on paper. I brought him a tired and torn colonial painting—Australian Travellers on a Victorian Country Road by William Ford—seeking his opinion. Bert examined the work intently and, in his typically laconic manner, simply declared that it was indeed a fine example of colonial painting, that it had to be saved, and that he could have it ready in two weeks.

The return visit to collect the restored painting proved even more memorable. The gallery was open, and I was able to wander through the different rooms and experience some of the remarkable things Bert and Shirley had acquired over the years—some to keep, others to sell. Shirley, always full of energy and enthusiasm, had a knack for discovering exciting pieces, often through her weekly Wanting to Buy Art classified advertisements in the Sunday Times. Her eye for quality and her instinct for the overlooked made those ads a surprisingly fruitful source.

In addition to their role as collectors and restorers, the Whittles were steadfast supporters of local artists. While many city galleries were focused on importing works from interstate, Bert and Shirley’s interest in showing local talent never waned. Their quiet but passionate contribution helped shape the local art landscape in profound and lasting ways.

To get to Kingsley from Roleystone was an arduous journey back then, but the trip became a regular event, as there were always new things to see at Hawks Hill, and I always had works in need of Bert’s special attention. Their company was unparalleled—Bert with his stories and guidance, and Shirley with her garden and orphaned kangaroos. Peacocks wandered the property, aloof in their disposition, and Honey, their part-retriever, always greeted arrivals by barking loudly and furiously wagging her tail. Their home, attached to the gallery, was warm and inviting, with a spirit uniquely its own, and the objects on display were fascinating—too many to absorb in a single sitting.

Then there were the enjoyable ploughman’s lunches: crusty bread, heaps of butter, pickled onions, and cheese, enjoyed with a glass of white wine—Shirley’s always diluted with water. Never boozy affairs, just enjoyable meals filled with lively conversation. Exhibition openings on Sunday afternoons at the gallery were always dynamic, with clients, friends, and artists descending on the place in numbers too numerous to count.

Looking through this collection brings back so many memories—not just of the artworks themselves, but of the people behind them. Bert and Shirley weren’t just collectors or restorers; they were friends, mentors, and generous spirits who created a space that was always welcoming, always full of life. Their passion was quiet but unwavering, and their impact far greater than they ever sought credit for. As I look at these pieces, I can still hear Bert’s dry wit and see Shirley’s spark as she talked about a new find. This offering is just a glimpse into the world they built, but for those of us who knew them, it speaks volumes.