Blackpaint 702 – Postwar Modern, a Saint and Imogen’s Back

Jock McFadyen at the RA

Sorry Jock! Managed to spell your name wrongly in last blog, as well as making some facetious and incorrect observations in my attempt to compare and contrast you with Whistler. I’ve managed to find my little booklet of your paintings from 1986, was it? I was pleased to see I’d got the Harry Diamond ref right and the tough blokes with the dog. Spelling now corrected.

Men with Dog

Girls Waiting for Cortina

Harry Diamond Jazz Dancing

Edwin Drood – A Correction

Before we go any further, I have another egregious error to confess; recently, wrote about a Kindle accident in which I strayed from The Mystery of Edwin Drood to another Dickens work, a novella set largely in the Alps which he co-authored with Wilkie Collins, without realising I’d switched books. I referred to the spontaneous combustion scene in Drood, saying I’d missed it. Small wonder, because the spontaneous combustion is in Bleak House, a book I’ve read twice, but still managed to entertain the error.

Postwar Modern: New Art in Britain 1945 – 1965

At the Barbican Centre until 26th June 2022

This is one of two excellent shows on in London simultaneously; there’s this at the Barbican and there’s “Artists in their Studios” at the Whitechapel Gallery, just a tube stop or two away, at Aldgate East. I did them both on the same day, in a couple of hours. I’m doing the Whitechapel next blog.

John Latham

Not sure who this is – I think its Prunella Clough

Magda Cordell – reminiscent of those carcasses of Soutine’s – and of Rembrandt, of course

Fabulous complex triptych by Alan Davie

Franciszka Themerson – Polish artist, totally new to me

One of three, I think, by Aubrey Williams

Portrait of John Bratby, by Jean Cooke

Rather superb, I think, making a great pair of that one of Bratby in his dressing gown (remember wearing those when I was a kid, about 60 years ago)…

John returns the compliment; she gets to avoid the dressing gown however, and sit comfortably naked in the no doubt nicely heated kitchen, with the contents of the scullery cupboards set out before her.

Sylvia Sleigh, another new one on me, Lawrence Alloway. No, Sleigh is the painter; the portrait is of her husband Lawrence Alloway, the art critic. He’s holding a rose.

Eduardo Paolozzi – but doesn’t it remind you of the famous Richard Hamilton picture, “Just What is it…”

Mary Martin – had to include this, Marion would never have let me omit it…

Victor Pasmore – but this is more my cup of tea.

Roger Mayne, I think – but could be wrong… too good a photo to leave out because my notes were inadequate.

Eva Frankfurther, West Indian Waitresses

The great Gillian Ayres

Patrick Heron – uncharacteristically sombre tones

The aforementioned dressing gown – and with the striped pyjamas too, by a coal fire, surely.. ah, nostalgia! Well, no, not really. Some of the photos are rather dark unfortunately, but then so is the Barbican.

It’s now midnight, so I want to finish as always with a couple of mine…

S

St. Nazaire – sold at last.

Imogen’s Back

Blackpaint

March 29th 2022