Pottery Preconceptions Punctured. June 2021 Grayson Perry: The Pre-Therapy Years
If I had thought about what the first exhibition I would see
after lockdown it would certainly not have been Grayson Perry: The
Pre-Therapy Years at York Art Gallery (on until 5th September).
As a resident of the East Midlands, I had been anticipating seeing the large
multi-million-pound re-openings of Derby’s Silk Mill, Northampton Museum and
Art Gallery and Nottingham Castle, but fate led me to York on a glorious
summer’s day early in June for research, interviews, and exploration. So, in
semi stir crazy desperation we booked to see whatever was on and thus Grayson
and I became much more closely acquainted.
I would readily admit I am a bit of a dilletante when it
comes to art and had never gone out of my way to explore his work, already having
a prejudice against porcelain, ceramics, pottery, and decorative arts in
general as either excessively opulent or irredeemably hippie. I was in for a big
surprise.
The brief introduction to the exhibition with its timeline
is worth studying, it will pay dividends later. Often events in an artist’s
life are useful reference points for change or development. In Perry’s case it
becomes apparent each event adds an extra layer of complexity and confusion to
the art rather than clarity and direction. The ‘World Events’ timeline,
although often fun, are usually tangential to the narrative, here they heap
even more layers on, and make complete sense for what you are about to see.
And what you see, or what I saw initially, were jumbled,
badly executed variants of classical designs in muted and drab colours with
what looked to be writing all over them (I’m not a fan of writing in art works
– in the same way I’m not a fan of voiceovers in cinema – but that is for
another time). Clearly these were not pieces to be put on a stand and admired
from a distance. At this point I should have walked away but like in any good
horror film I crept closer…and closer. Suddenly the art grabbed me by the
lapels dragged me to within inches of the objects that then proceeded to shout
in my face like an angry sergeant major, sometimes incoherent, sometimes
disturbing, often funny, always dark, arrogantly self-deprecating, and
endlessly fascinating. A complex interior world emerged that was engaging with
a difficult exterior world.
Every piece was a rich personal exploration and his relationship with the exterior world. There were occasional pieces where a more relaxed clearer focus was gained, such as his celebration (if that is an adequate word in this context) of Essex or his surreal ‘Eye Plate’ or ‘Ear Dish’ pieces, but mostly it was noise, movement, and tension.
There was so much of tension, he seemed to recognise the
absurdity of everything, ‘Meaningless Symbols’ yet also the importance of his
work, ‘… I can take pottery into the arena of comment and ideas, dare I say it,
fine art…’. I got the sense that his dry wit and sheer stubbornness kept him
going.
It is almost as if Grayson Perry needed to be constrained by
the limits of a plate or a vase as so many were crammed with ideas that filled
every part of the surface – pottery as therapy? I suspect many amateur potters
would agree. I spent a long time with a vase divided into two, half of which
was a handwritten description of his day out with a transvestite bikers club.
It was almost a relief to read the joy in the words, knowing that he could be
happy.
I left knowing much more about Grayson Perry, and I rather
think I would like him if I ever met him. The world is a better place because
he is in it, and he has helped me think very differently about the possibility
of ceramics and how his creativity has lifted the craft. It’s just the
nightmares I now have – thank you Grayson.
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