The demise of BritArt has been a rumbling topic of conversation for some time now, but when Momart – a warehouse stocking millions of pounds worth of art – went spectacularly up in flames at the end of May it ignited a particularly British media frenzy. Arts Hub UK writer Marian McCarthy looks at the new way ahead for British art and talks to one of its new faces – Faye Briony whose first solo exhibition ‘The Trial of Tartuffe’ is part of what is starting to be known as ‘Slow Art’.
Open season has been declared on Saatchi and most Young British Artists. As Jacques Peretti from The Guardian quipped: ‘If anyone was in any doubt that BritArt was over, they couldn’t have had a less subtle sign from God.’ And so the pendulum has swung. Whatever you think about the movement largely responsible for putting contemporary British art on the map, it is clear that the zeitgeist has moved on.
During his speech at the Royal Academy Annual Dinner in June, critic Robert Hughes put his finger on an emerging trend when he said, ‘What we need more of is slow art: art that holds time as a vase holds water: art that grows out of modes of perception and making whose skill and doggedness make you think and feel; art that isn’t merely sensational, that doesn’t get its message across in ten seconds, that isn’t falsely iconic, that hooks onto something deep-running in our natures.’
The name may be new but the concept of ‘slow art’ is not. Neither is this the first call for people to once again recognise and value more traditional skills, craftsmanship, in art. Many remarkable, and successful, artists have been saying much the same for years, whilst continuing their work regardless of fashion. What is new and quite fun, is that many artists, galleries and even critics have begun to think that the rebranded old art – slow art – is the next big thing.
So what does this mean for an up-coming artist working in the UK today? Artshub caught up with artist Faye Briony, who describes herself as ‘part of a new breed of post-Hirst, “Slow Art” painters’, in the run up to her first solo exhibition to find out.
How do you feel leading up to your first solo exhibition?
An artist friend of mine once described having a solo exhibition as getting married on your own. Being on show, but with no-one else to hide behind. It’s a daunting prospect, but also a great chance to be specific about matters that concern you and your work.
Have you been exhibited at all before? If so where, and in what way have the experiences, so far, differed?
No, this is my first exhibition.
Could you tell us about the process of developing this exhibition? Did you initiate it? Or was it a gallery approach?
It was a gallery approach. Someone I knew mentioned to Chambers that I was looking to exhibit. They looked at my website and got in touch.
What type of work does the Chambers Gallery generally exhibit? Are they very proactive?
The Chambers Gallery currently has no permanent collection and instead features a varied programme of temporary exhibitions by students at the Royal College of Art. It is also used by other young artists for a diverse range of shows lasting between one and three weeks. It’s more of an exhibition space than a gallery in that the onus is upon the artist(s) to set up and organise their show. It’s a fantastic learning curve for any young artist, as they have to deal with the whole exhibition process rather than just producing the artwork.
What do you think about the amount of support available to up-and-coming artists in the UK?
Like most things, I think the support is there if you look for it, although knowing where to look is often difficult. We’re not all going to be Saatchi’s next protégé so finding support and funding has to be part and parcel of most young artist’s agenda. There are many grant and bursary schemes which exist, many of which now come from the EU. I regularly look at www.artquest.org.uk, a site funded by the British Council and University of the Arts London which gives free advice to artists, including information about where to find support. It is London-focused but they are helpful links for artists living in other areas in Britain.
Do you feel that there are enough smaller art galleries and spaces in London willing to take a risk on unknown artists?
Having a limited knowledge compared with those artists who live and work in London, it is difficult to comment. From my own research however, I have come across a number of London galleries advertising for new talent. Since the BritArt phenomena, I think many smaller galleries see unknown artists as a sort of lucky dip, hoping that they might discover the next big thing. So I do think it is perhaps easier now for unknown artists than it has been in the past.
How about outside of London?
I think the attitude is very much universal. I know a gallery owner in Didsbury (Manchester) who exhibited the work of Liam Spencer some years ago, selling pieces for a couple of hundred pounds each. He’s now one of the most sought after painters in the UK, selling work for thousands. There are success stories for artists and gallery owners, but it is a risk and not every ending is a happy one.
Is it still true that the East End has spaces that are edgy, cheaper and available to artists, both as studios and galleries, or has this changed with the increased gentrification of the area?
Again, it is difficult to comment on London since not only do I not live there, but haven’t lived in England for a few years. However, the reputation of the East End as the birthplace of Brit Art and artistic hub still seems to hold true. Friends who live there however, suggest that money issues are driving them out. With redevelopment and gentrification, the edginess seems to have been replaced by a ‘trendiness’ which invariably brings with it higher prices. Already I see friends migrating outwards, seeking new and cheaper places to live, work and exhibit.
Is there another area that is being colonised by the artistic community? A prospective heir to the East End?
I think we are already witnessing a shift in the way artists live and work. I think the popularity of online galleries and art fairs and the high cost of living in London is changing the traditional shape of artistic communities in the UK. There doesn’t seem to be the same need anymore to be in one specific place. I believe even Damien Hirst has moved to Devon and works in Gloucestershire now. I don’t think everyone should be caught up on thinking that to become an artist, you necessarily have to go to the English capital, especially when there are so many other artistic havens such as Cornwall, Glasgow, Dublin and cities, towns even villages across Europe whose artistic heritage is just as rich. As a generation, we are more mobile than ever and I don’t see why we should stick to such well worn paths, especially when computer access allow us a freer reign to live in areas outside of traditional established communities
You identify yourself as a ‘post-Hirst’ ‘slow art’ artist. What do you mean by this?
They are generalised terms really and not necessarily reflective of all the work I do. However, in principal they are what I aspire to achieve. Post-Hirst was a way to differentiate between that art which aims to shock first, think later and art which demands a little thought before you react. His work was right for the time, but our current modernity is more concerned with the negative implications of the those social elements which enabled his international success – media-hype, investor’s monopoly, shock tactics. In the same way, ‘slow art’ is about art which is not always instantaneous but that which may ask the onlooker for a little more of their time before getting a reaction.
How does this define your art?
I would like to think that I am bridging a gap between modern and traditional art. I am not ashamed to like pencils and paint. Even at university I had a hard time trying to convince the lecturers that I wanted to learn more about how to draw. I think there are many conceptual art lovers who are as supercilious about what constitutes good art as those who criticise conceptual art for having no value. Diversity in art is important and I think to some extent my generation has been duped into thinking that only conceptual and installation work is worth a look and that traditional skills are archaic and outdated.
Robert Hughes talks about the value and importance of slow art as opposed to fast art. What do you think?
I first read Robert Hughes Culture of Complaint when I was at University writing a dissertation about the Americanisation of French culture. He’s not a man to mince his words and I think has an uncanny ability to assess and pre-empt trends, fashions and ways of thinking. I would agree that the value of art that takes on a more traditional format has been sidelined and undervalued in recent years. I think today’s debate in art reflects a wider social yearning to find a deeper value in life, a humanity that seems to have been lost somewhere along the line of progress.
Do you ever feel that you are working in an old-fashioned medium?
Not at all. I think paint is more fashionable now than it has been in the last 25 years.
There has been much written about the demise of BritArt, particularly since the recent fire at the Momart warehouse. What do you think?
I think much of the criticism the BritArtists received was unfair. People forget what an incredible role they played in putting Britain at the cutting edge of international art. I think what most people objected to was the iconisation of the artist and the monopoly of a few investors to ensure their success. But even though the BritArtists wanted to introduce important themes back into art, I think their methods are now outdated. Brash statements are no longer appropriate or appealing. I think people are tired of being shocked, of brutality and want to start thinking about art without the emotional value being handed to them on a plate. Wider social issues in a subtler guise seem to be order of the day.
Do you see a distinct move away from conceptual art?
I think conceptual art will always have a special place in British Art heritage, but Art is always finding new paths and I think ultimately, conceptual art will have to give way to something new, different or revised.
If so, what do you think is going to be the next ‘big thing’?
With more and more new ‘old’ academies and schools of excellence opening up, I think we are likely to see a gradual movement towards an appreciation of craftsmanship. I think we will come to value sophistication and technique as much as raw concept. I think traditional techniques will get more attention and paint, textiles, sculpture and carving will take more of a role. Even in installation pieces, the materials used will be as much a focus as the concept being expressed.
You have travelled extensively since you were a child. On your website you mention how these cultural influences are reflected in the flamboyance and vibrancy of your work. Could you be more specific?
I have a funny relationship with colour. I am drawn to it. As a child I spent a lot of time in India and used to be fascinated by the mad hustle and bustle, crazy Bollywood billboards, bright lights and noisy, loud colour. I don’t feel satisfied with a painting without it there. I heard once that musicians remember events in their life by referring back to a tune. I think of places I’ve been to and think of particular types of colour and movement and then try to replicate that in my pictures. Generally I use broad brush strokes, even in my figurative work, which gives a sense of flamboyance that many people have remarked on.
What prompted your return to the UK at the beginning of 2004? And how are you feeling to be back?
A strange combination of events brought me back to the UK. I was working in Holland at the time and had decided that I wanted to pursue art as a profession. I was applying to study at the Florence Academy of Art when my grandma died. I came back to England for the funeral, but not long afterwards my mum got ill, so the decision to stay in the UK was a natural one. I do love and miss living in Europe, especially Holland and would probably define myself as a northern European above anything else. That isn’t a political statement, it’s where I’ve spent the past five years and learned my most important lessons. Being back is great however on both a personal and professional level.
In your opinion is the UK very different in its approach to art, and the art world, from the other places you have lived? If so, how?
The UK is great because it embraces new fashion like no other place I have been. What results is an eclectic mix of everything, but the turnover from one fad to another, in music, in clothes in art is fairly rapid. In other countries, especially in Europe there seems to be a more reticent approach to accepting the new, which I think often makes it difficult for young artists. Britain seems to be one of the natural birthplaces for new art.
Politics are an important influence on your work. Do you see art as having responsibility to respond to the politics of the day?
By nature Art reflects the climate of the times, but I don’t think that there should be an assumed responsibility on art to respond in a certain way to events. Having said that, we’re in one of the most pivotal political periods in world history and art seems to be one of the few mediums able to communicate messages today. The media seems so unbalanced in it’s presentation of facts. We have politicians, terrorists and media giants directing what we see and feel. It is nice to think that musicians and actors and artists might be able to present issues in different ways. I admire bands like Faithless and actors such as Patrick Stewart, Vanessa and Corin Redgrave who are drawing attention to important political issues. I think it’s very brave.
How have recent politic events impacted on your art?
I have always been more interested in human values than political rhetoric. But I have just felt so disappointed by the lack of quality in recent political decisions that I felt compelled to use art as a tool to open debate. Living as a foreigner abroad makes you more aware of how Britain is perceived in other countries and teaches you to look more objectively at the role Britain plays globally. Historically, we don’t have the greatest reputation and we still seem to be making the same mistakes.
Should art have constraints? Political, moral..?
I think art naturally restrains itself. If boundaries are pushed too far or vice-versa, public response will naturally sway it in a different direction.
What do you hope to achieve with this exhibition?
The idea to do an exhibition on the theme of double standards in politics came to me last January while I was clearing out some of the old notes I had kept from my university studies. I realised that many of the themes being broached by playwrights in 17th century France were similar to those we are confronted with today. I wanted to draw attention to the fact that we have a lot to learn from history, that despite moving forward in time, we haven’t achieved the civilised state certain political leaders would lead us to believe we’re currently in.
Faye Briony’s exhibition ‘The Trial of Tartuffe’ is on at the Chambers Gallery, 21 Long Lane, London EC1A 9HL (August 16 – 31st). For further information visit www.fayebriony.com, www.guardian.co.uk and .
