Ludwig Hirschfeld-Mack, born in Frankfurt in 1893, was attracted by the promise of the Bauhaus as a model for art and life. He was already an artist, and military service in World War I had made him a pacifist. At the Bauhaus he could honour both commitments and join Gropius’s project to show society a path to harmony through art. As Resi Schwarzbauer shows powerfully in this rich book, Hirschfeld-Mack’s belief in Bauhaus principles henceforth remained steadfast. In 1919, he and his wife Elenor, along with Marga, their firstborn, moved to Weimar. He started as a student, learning under Klee. Later he graduated to a teaching position, guiding others in the use and theory of colour. His work with colour is among his most enduring legacies as an artist.

Untitled, 1941, by Ludwig Hirschfeld-Mack (reproduced courtesy of Chris Bell)

This is a biography of a Bauhäusler who in 1940 happened to be deported to Australia on the Dunera, rather than of a ‘Dunera boy’ who happened to be a Bauhaus artist. It’s a key distinction, and a welcome one. The sculptor Erwin Fabian (1915–2020) disliked being described as a Dunera artist, believing that the label prescribed the ways in which his life and art might be understood. The description would be similarly inappropriate for Hirschfeld-Mack, and Schwarzbauer avoids the trap. Hirschfeld-Mack’s wartime arrest in Britain – made on the basis of his German nationality – and his subsequent internment in Australia changed his life, but I doubt that his Dunera experience was the defining event it was for some of his fellow internees. He knew the world already, having endured the trenches of World War I and much other intolerable sadness, including the death of his brother at Verdun in 1916 and the suicide of his daughter in 1938. He had felt the pain of separation, having lived apart from Elenor since 1936 when he left Germany for Britain, a move forced by his Jewish heritage. Elenor, afflicted by multiple sclerosis, had stayed behind. Internment confirmed what Hirschfeld-Mack understood of despair and man’s capacity for barbarism. His best-known work, a woodcut print produced during his confinement in Australia, depicts a solitary figure looking through barbed wire to the stars of the Southern Cross and a vast night sky: this image, in its various versions, is sometimes known as Desolation.

If time in internment allowed Hirschfeld-Mack to reflect on the follies of man in pursuing war over peace, it also affirmed his belief in the universal role of art in fostering unity and purpose. After nearly two years in internment, he was freed and given an unexpected chance to bring the Bauhaus to Australia. In 1942, James Darling, headmaster of Geelong Grammar School, arranged for Hirschfeld-Mack’s release on the basis that he was needed for work of national importance: he would replace the school’s art teacher, who was on war service. Geelong Grammar gave Hirschfeld-Mack a happy and rewarding home for the next fifteen years.

Pedagogy was a vital element of his artistic practice: to foster creativity, especially in the young, was almost a moral obligation. Schwarzbauer devotes a significant portion of this book to his time at Geelong Grammar. Blessed with a decent salary and comfortable living quarters – things he knew not to take for granted – Hirschfeld-Mack found time to experiment with methods of learning and the application of Bauhaus principles. His philosophies, Schwarzbauer writes, ‘concentrated on liberating creativity, assisting students in their journey of self-knowledge, aiming for economy of material and form and, ultimately, the reform of society through art’. If Hirschfeld-Mack didn’t succeed in reforming society, his other aims were realised gloriously, and his students loved him for it. Soon Hirschfeld-Mack was taking the Bauhaus to students across Victoria, thanks in part to the patronage of the art historian Joseph Burke, professor at Melbourne University, who recognised Ludwig’s talents and what could be made of them.

While Hirschfeld-Mack’s professional life flourished, there remained the pain of his continued separation from family in Europe. Schwarzbauer writes tenderly of the love and devotion with which Ello cared for her bedridden mother in her father’s absence. But why did Hirschfeld-Mack leave this duty to Ello? By 1953, when Elenor died, postwar West Germany was sufficiently stable that he could have returned permanently. While the book shows that he had good reasons not to, one possible reason for staying in Australia, and potentially the strongest, isn’t discussed overtly. Shortly after Elenor’s death, Hirschfeld-Mack married Olive Russell, whom he had known since his internment at Tatura. She was one of many Quakers who worked tirelessly on behalf of the Dunera internees, providing for their welfare and advocating for their release. The book is coy on whether an intimate relationship with Olive blossomed before Elenor’s death, but there are implicit clues to suggest it did. While such personal matters are not always for the biographer, in this case there is reason to include them. The book dwells on Hirschfeld-Mack’s Christian faith and his commitment to leading a moral, honourable life: that lens need not have precluded discussion of his foibles, if that’s what they were. Confirmation that he wasn’t a saint would add to what we know of his burdens and triumphs.

The centenary of the Bauhaus in 2019 prompted fresh interest in those men and women whom Gropius inspired to remake artistic practice. This important and profusely illustrated biography, the first major work on Hirschfeld-Mack written in English, is a tribute to the enduring power and significance of Bauhaus ideals and to a remarkable soul. Not one to seek acclaim, Hirschfeld-Mack privileged the importance of art and creativity over the conceits of the individual. Nearly sixty years after his death, Schwarzbauer’s fine book gives him his due.