Hyped to the skies as usual, this year’s Archibald Prize was as lacklustre as any year I can remember. When I hear people droning about the Archibald as a great Aussie tradition, I think yes, like ring barking or yabby racing. There are too many gimmick pictures and too many poorly painted ones. Despite a good percentage of realist works, produced with near-photographic accuracy, it’s unlikely any of them were contenders. It would have sent a discouraging message that the trustees were prepared to give the prize to the best picture. Hands up, Angus McDonald and Tsering Hannaford.

The pleasing part about Laura Jones’ victory is that it signifies a return to the quaint, old-fashioned notion that a portrait should be a good likeness that captures something of the sitter’s personality. Last year’s winner, Julia Gutman’s portrait of singer Montaigne, was a gimmick work that appeared to have more to do with the trustees’ desire to give the prize to a young artist.

This year, the same obsession was in evidence, as outgoing chairman David Gonski announced a record number of first-timers in the Archibald, Wynne and Sulman, and waited for a round of applause – which never came. For most people, it probably doesn’t matter if the shows are full of first-timers or veterans; young ’uns or oldies; boys, girls or others; black artists, white ones or Martians. All they want is to see the best works available. The statistics are a mere distraction and might even exert a negative influence on selections, as experienced artists are rejected in favour of new blood.

Laura Jones, who turns 42 this year, is by nature, a sloppy, expressive painter whose work can be hit-or-miss. Her Tim Winton is a palpable hit, perhaps because the subject is a shapeless, slapdash figure himself. One rarely sees Winton in anything but a T-shirt, and he’s not known to frequent the celebrity hairdressers. Jones says the novelist acts as though he carries the weight of the world on his shoulders, and she has caught this in the portrait. Winton looks maudlin, in the way he often comes across in photos. The background, which has been dashed in any-old-how, concentrates our attention squarely on the subject. He may look like a beach bum, but there’s an undeniable intensity to this bloke.

I wish I could find as many redeeming features in the other portraits, but the Goldilocks Effect is very much in force, with some artists trying too hard, and others not trying at all.

As for the other prizes, the Sulman, chosen this year by Tom Polo is predictable, with Naomi Kantjuriny having painted small white figures on a black background in Minyma mamu tjuta.

According to Gonski, the Wynne Prize for landscape includes two-thirds first-time participants and a majority of Indigenous Australian artists. This perhaps underlines the reason so many of Australia’s best landscapists no longer enter the competition nowadays. They feel they haven’t got a chance. That may be true but this year, at least, Djakanu Yunupingu’s Nyalala gurmilili was an obvious, stand-out winner. Her homeland, Yirrkala, in Arnhem Land, is a culture factory that keeps turning out amazing artists.

I hope I haven’t been too discouraging about this year’s shows. The Archibald is always a financial bonanza and in times of debt, straitened budgets, and an unsympathetic government paymaster, the gallery needs your money more than ever.