|
The Man. Ivor took me on as his assistant in 1972 and I worked for him until 1976 when I went to the College. It's a measure of how desperate he was that he gave me a job even though my right wrist was in plaster. I was playing darts with my left hand by this time so was fairly ambidextrous but even so. He had a huge show coming up the next year going to Rotterdam then Cologne. The guy he already had wasn't working out and the major pieces needed a lot of work. £1 an hour and I agreed to work all the hours possible in the evenings and at weekends while I finished at Wimbledon, after which I would work full time. I learnt so much from him, about use of materials ways of making work and how to maximise ideas, make them spread. Drawings became sculptures, prints, more drawings from the print proofs, more sculptures. We were a two man factory assisted by Alan Cox's workshop producing lithos and Chris Betambeau's shop producing screen prints. I was also trying to make my own work and build my studio. Oh, the energy of youth. |
|
How's that for a proper artist's studio. In the middle foreground is the beast I spent months on. (more later) We spent more time together than most married people so there were frictions. When I fucked something up he would tell me to stop acting Irish and the number of times I wanted to poison his hash cakes are too numerable to mention, but overall we got on pretty well. He trusted me and I never abused that by pissing about or padding my hours or passing on stuff that was private. I felt like a medieval apprentice in the workshop of a master, actually that's going over the top, but something like that. We had something in common both having gone to the same Foundation School in Southport though many years apart. He took his role very seriously both as an artist and, in some ways, my mentor. He introduced me around to his mates and to artists, Gallerists, dealers, had me and Elizabeth over for dinner and generally included me in what he was up to. Most of which I will take to my grave. |