Part Three of my conversation with Richard Guest about Michael Andrews.
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David: There were a number of large underwater paintings of fish swimming in the upstairs galleries. I was wondering how they fit into this…fish are potentially a banal subject. Obviously there is the parallel of floating, and a kind of luminosity to the surface and again the ambiguous relationship to photography. What do you make of them?
Richard: The fish paintings really do look like nothing so much as pretty paintings of fish. I’ve been staring at the painting above for a while and I’m getting nothing else from it. It’s very relaxing – like a fish tank. I feel distanced from the subject matter and it holds little to no meaning for me in art historical terms – it doesn’t fall into any of the usual categories/ genres. There’s just the emptiness you talked about (and I can see why you mentioned Alan Watts. And the artist’s hand is missing – no expressive marks to muddy the waters.). Were the fish paintings the latest? Perhaps Andrews was always working toward this empty space. A moment for a tired patron to clear away their mental cobwebs. Matisse’s philosophy taken to its logical conclusion? What do you think was Andrews’ attitude to the selling of his work?
David: He once wrote: ‘I don’t paint for money, but I do sell for money’. Seeing as James Kirkman and Anthony d’Offay were his dealers, I would say his attitude was pretty clear. He certainly wasn’t about to flood the market – he certainly never felt the need to make multiples or anything like that – all we have is the paintings. I am not sure that he envisioned where the paintings would end up too much, but to the extent he did, I think would have wanted them to be a place to lose yourself (or your Self) momentarily.
What is the difference though between his work and that of a talented amateur – who might well paint fish, or a landscape from a photograph? They are not like Gerhard Richter’s blank photo paintings. Richter’s use of photography undermines its documentary properties and generally reflects on the truth of the perceived image, whereas Andrews seems more about using photographs for what he can take from them – more like Bacon. They are reference but he is happy to forget them too. There are passages in the fish paintings in the backgrounds which are breathtakingly beautiful pieces of abstract composition, but he always frames them within a figurative context. That contrast is not the work of an amateur.
I think he is always flirting with analogy though – the fish are called ‘School’ and he was apparently hinting at human behaviour, conformity, predation etc. But it can really only be described as a very loose analogy that is submerged in formal play of light and texture.His thought process was often unclear. He was aware of this and did not want it to intrude into the paintings, where his visual intuition ruled. But there is a conflict and tension between the two that feeds this sort of intertwining between the figurative and the abstract, the traditional and the modern, in his work. If we ignore the connotations of the subject and concentrate on sensation – a lot of which is about lightness, floating, flying etc we will approach the work more closely.
You say the artist’s hand is missing, but I would say it is invisible. He certainly hasn’t removed it – he made all the paintings by hand – even when he was stencilling or using a spraycan. Everything is delicately felt. Can we finish by talking a little bit about ‘Thames Painting – the Estuary, 1994-5’ – his last painting? In Estuary he had the painting on the floor and washed piles of mud and fine stones over the canvas with turpentine – like a real estuary in miniature. There are sharp depictions of old fashioned lightermen and fishermen combined with a streak of varnish that seems to have escaped from a Sigmar Polke painting…does it seem like the summit of his work?
Richard: It’s my favourite of his paintings. It teeters on the edge of total abstraction – like an English take on Tachism, its structure hidden in the blasted, dark, land and seascape. The figures are little more than silhouettes seen from a distant cliff edge. The paint marks that describe the estuary are spectacular in scale by comparison. The figures could so easily be wiped out with a brushstroke, or a spill of varnish. The land and sea look like shots of the Earth taken from space. And yet the landscape’s very subtly described – there are no hard outlines. It’s a vertiginous experience as if the viewer is being tipped head first into the picture. The dark patch at the centre of the painting is enthralling, and appears to be drawing the rest of the painting into it (but I love negativity, so I would see that). I wonder if he knew this was his last painting.
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