My first show was in 1970 at the Wynyard Tavern, and as so often happens with first-time shows I put in everything, something like 70 photographs. A big and quite messy show. When I first met John Turner a little later, and we got to be friends, he said to me cheerfully, and quite rightly, that I was all over the place. He was doing systematic, careful documentary stuff, setting up shots on a large-format 4 x 5 camera. Me, one evening I'd be out photographing the moon, the next day walking along the street, or in the bush, and the next in the middle of a pub.
The title of the exhibition, Visible Evidence, was what held it together in my mind. I had this idea there was a sacred thing out there called reality. It was our job to record it: we were tributaries to it, rather than being able to modify it. This came from Cartier-Bresson, from Walker Evans, the whole puritanical tradition. For my generation this was tied up with the personal. We are at once out there documenting but we are not in any way disinterested. We are actually engaged. Engagement means it does involve things like relationships and love and art and various other of the big words. But I didn't like it when Cornell Capa and company came up with the International Fund for Concerned Photography. Of course we're bloody concerned, why else do it? I could see the need for it. I could see the need for someone like Don McCullin to photograph the horrors of war. But I can't look at McCullin without becoming very uneasy. Which is what I'm meant to be experiencing, but I feel manipulated after a while, as well.
I've always had a more distanced relationship to reality. I remember visiting some people who were in a commune or whatever the hell they called them in those days. All these earnest hairy people wandering about. Going into the kitchen, there were two drawers in the kitchen. One was marked 'wooden beings' and the other was marked 'metal beings'. I suddenly said to myself, 'Oh shit, I can't do this'. I just couldn't any more. The whole New Age thing. New Zealand gets incredibly earnest about things, which is an endearing quality. Occasionally I think we end up losing it in the fluff and I couldn't do that.
- Max Oettli, in Athol McCredie's The New Photography: New Zealand's first-generation contemporary photographers, Wellington, 2019, p.97