For years I've been interested in aspects of 'class' and have always thought, as does Perry, that it isn't properly defined/delineated by education, beliefs, character etc, it's really the iconography and lexicon that count.
Having watched the series, Minnie and I then visited the accompanying tapestry exhibition at the Victoria Miro gallery (a pleasure in itself with its unexpected tranquil garden pond):
The tapestries were amazing: a riot of colour and rich in texture with stunning composition. We stood in front of each one for ages, pointing out various things, reading the writing, talking about what they said. That to me is what really good art is all about - inspiring debate and conversation. (Especially when it also comfortably bridges a generation).
I've also just read Perry's biography: Portrait of An Artist as A Young Girl. I was surprised to find out that he'd followed quite a traditional art route: Grammar School, A' Levels, Art Foundation, Portsmouth University. I think I thought he'd 'discovered' art at a later age in life.
Although he comes across as a wonderfully humane and gentle man, the anger in his work (directed mainly at his childhood) is made entirely understandable in just one paragraph:
"For my second year at college, Jen and I rented a tiny two-bedroomed flat in the centre of Portsmouth. The day we moved in I sat down on the bed and was overwhelmed with the relief at the security of having, what seemed like for the first time in my life, my own front door.'
A violent, unpredictable stepfather, a negligent mother and a fey deserting father had clearly left their mark.
No comments:
Post a Comment