Grayson Perry: Provincial Punk

This week I went to see Grayson Perry’s Provincial Punk at the Turner Contemporary.

I was never one for art in school. Try as I might I never had an aptitude for it. This always disappointed me. I was academic in other areas of school. Always felt fluent with a pen; able to mix words into landscapes of horror, mystery and wonder. With a paintbrush I felt different. Dyslexic. The brush never sat right; never fell easy in my hand; I couldn't draw what I saw.

Sunday nights were the worst. I had put my Art homework off and now had to do it. My attempts to summon my muse had yet again proved unsuccessful (I have since learnt that muses only come on walks, in dreams, through strong opiates – not via the game Championship Manager 1997/98), so I was forced to acknowledge that with inspiration taking a day off I would have to sort the work out myself. Reluctantly, I would go to my bag, get the sketch book from the bottom, roll up my sleeves, grit my teeth, put my shoulder to the wheel, my nose to the grindstone  - and ask my dad to do the homework for me. Raj Theivamanoharan, my father, has got me out of many jams in his time but doing my art homework ranks alongside the best of them.

"I coulda had class. I coulda been somebody. I coulda been a contender, instead of a bum, which is what I am let's face it," if it weren't for this game.

Art is just something I’ve never been interested in. I mean I’ve been to galleries out of a sense of duty, made the right noises, affected the right stance, but I’ve never felt anything towards it. I appreciate the time and skill that has gone into it, but if ‘art’ is a conversation between strangers then too often I think it’s one-way one, a bus stop madman yelling 'apocalypse now' at you.

My feelings towards art have changed though, mainly because of Grayson Perry. Perry is an atypical artist in sound, appearance and work. He was born in a working class family in Chelmsford, Essex. With his mum and dad’s acrimonious split, his childhood was traumatic. Nor was he a typical boy: Perry preferred femininity to fighting; art to football. In a daring raid on conformity, the teenager came out as a transvestite. This brazen display of otherness was met by hostility, causing the young artist to leave for London, where he eventually sought sanctuary in the squats of punk culture. 

Claire (Grayson Perry's alter-ego) and Grayson Perry

Provinical Punk is the contradictory title for a contradictory man. It tracks Perry’s evolution from solipsistic experimentalist to inclusive social-commentator. The latter work on display is redolent of the great anthropologist, Charles Dickens. Dickens as stroller would walk twenty miles a day, breathing in the city before returning home to expel it on the page. Perry is the same, only his medium is different. On More 4 a few years ago, Perry did a programme on taste, each episode featured a different class: working, middle and upper. Over the course of the episode he would meet different characters (tattooist, boy racers, football fans) and then turn the class into a tapestry. At the end the subjects were invited to the gallery where their pride and astonishment was captured on camera. Seeing ordinary human behaviour captured in the glass jar of art was infinitely more interesting to me than any dull portrait in the Louvre.

The working class tapestry: 'The adoration of the cage fighter.'

Perry’s earlier work, however, is less Dickensian, more Salinger, with Catcher In the Rye identity and angst prevalent. One amusing work is a pot shaped in the style of the European Cup, decorated with a football shirt motif, on each a thing he hates about the beautiful game: ‘camaraderie,’ ‘lads,’ ‘Brylcream.’ As you move through the exhibit you note how the satire remains, but the scope has widened. A moving piece is a map with dominant feelings capitalised to symbolise the city (GREED) and dormant emotions lower-cased for the towns (irritation), on the fringes the seas wash in threatening to engulf the land (PARANOIA, JEALOUSY, DOUBT). These existentialist pieces demonstrate that beyond Perry’s colourful exterior a serious thinker rests at play.

"Map of an Englishman"

Most impressively for me is the final room. On the wall hangs a tapestry chronicling Perry’s view of Britain. Attributes, catchphrases, figureheads, brands, personalities and ideals typifying the nation are emblazoned across it. Being half-British but feeling completely British, I’ve always been fascinated by what it means to be English/ British. Looking at the piece, I feel Perry comes close to capturing the character of a nation. Indeed, the Conservative Party would be well advised to look at the piece to appreciate how multi-faceted the British character is and how pushing a prescribed set of ‘British values’ in the classroom may be a little reductive when compared to it.

"Comfort Blanket" - my favourite piece.

For me then, Perry is the intersection where art and literature meet. Every one of his pieces has an idea, a theme; it isn’t just art for art’s sake. As a book reader, I crave character and demand narrative; with Perry’s work you get both. He has made me, an avowed art atheist, go to a gallery through choice. If you too have ever doubted art’s worth in society, I assure you Perry will make you believe again.

Grayson Perry's Provincial Punk will be at the Turner Contemporary in Margate until the 13th September.