Exhibitions
Robert Organ (Browse & Darby till 26 April) The Rural Idyll
(Sally Hunter & Patrick Seale till 25 April)
Country fare
Giles Auty
For many painters the attractions of city life can be summed up in just one sordid, 11-letter word: opportunity. They know that burying themselves in the depths of the countryside can all too easily mean exactly that. For rural retreat read profes- sional entombment. Whatever happened to Hugh Whatsisname; didn't he move to Shropshire? Even so, scores of artists still battle out breadline existences at the ends of muddy tracks, hoping the Big City will discover and smile on them. But on the whole it won't, not least because it lacks the neces- sary will and administrative machinery to do so. When last I inquired, the part-time visual arts officer for South West Arts was ScluPPosedly supervising a tract stretching ,Iresin Dristol to Land's End. Not surprising- ly, there can be little flow of useful information back to London. Most rural artists get visited seldom, if at all, by regional arts officers. Geoff Ogden, one of Britain's most honest and forceful land- scape painters, waited years for a first and Only visit. Admittedly his cottage, near St Buryan in Cornwall, lies at the end of an especially long track. From years ago, I recall a stinging little essay by Martin Amis, deploring the pre- tensions of out-of-town writers. Yet, for the landscape painter, his or her whereab- outs are clearly of more crucial concern. Some artists take years to find the visual stimulus which, once trapped, can provide an inexhaustible vein of imagery. Although the rural wit may slow, country eyes and ears unquestionably sharpen. In my experi- ence, confirmed city dwellers see only a small proportion of what is happening around them when in the countryside. Happily, as more and more artists are once again looking outwards — instead of end- lessly in upon themselves — this country's formerly great landscape tradition is being rediscovered and rejuvenated. One middle-generation artist who may make a considerable contribution to such revitalisation is currently exhibiting at Browse & Darby (19 Cork Street, W1). Much of Robert Organ's imagery is taken from one of the loveliest and least spoilt quarters of southern England: an area, near Axminster, touching the borders of Devon, Dorset and Somerset. Novels as widely divided in time as Jane Austen's Persuasion and John Fowles's The French Lieutenant's Woman were set in this haun- tingly beautiful pocket of land. Painters, too, have been similarly attracted: Robert Bevan, Harold Gilman, Charles Ginner and Lucien Pissarro all reacted to the unique topography of the landscape which hereabouts divides the sea from the Black- down Hills.
Robert Organ trained as a painter at the Slade only to emerge into a climate largely under the sway of abstract art and artists. In reaction to aesthetic values which oppressed and irritated him, he therefore set out on a second and distinguished career in architecture. Happily he has returned to painting full-time and his work now clearly shows the commitment of an artist intent on sinking or swimming by his work. The paintings are professionally made and professionally presented. For once, framing which many consider unim- portant — fully complements the baroque richness of the imagery. The artist's dogs feature regularly both in landscapes and interiors. Yet Organ's 'Our Dogs' is not so much about dogs, but of dogs, drawn into a dense and painterly design.
The attractions of the country might be said to be those of life rather than of lifestyle; in this exhibition the large land- scapes find their unaffected source in the artist's everyday surroundings. Yet the treatment is not merely topographical. In `First Light at Lyme Regis', strange height- ed colours convey the renascent freshness of an hour which few city-based artists ever bother to observe — unless on their way home, of course. Organ's work has the candour of an artist who is willing to look and experience. His dusk paintings capture that strange time of day when darkness advances not so much by stealth as by a series of sudden pounces. (To observe this phenomenon, try watching wildlife at twi- light through binoculars.) While Organ's work illustrates one man's reaction to the country, the exhibi- tion at Sally Hunter & Patrick Seale Fine Art (2 Motcomb Street, SW1) introduces us to the rural experiences of several distinguished names. For me, the most moving works on view were those by Rupert Shephard of `Heytesbury' and two works by Alan Walton which I remem- bered especially from an earlier show: 'The Gateway' and 'The River Orwell, near Shotley'. Gerik Schjelderup's 'Firth of Forth' would be equally suitable for the enthusiast beginning a modest collection.
Artists who worked in west Cornwall during the Fifties, Sixties and Seventies will be saddened by the death, last month, of Jimmy Goodman, tormer proprietor of the Gurnard's Head Hotel. For years, the hotel, which lies on the coast road from St Ives to Land's End, was a favourite meet- ing place for artists and writers. On a blowy winter's night, when few ventured out, the unsuspecting visitor might find himself 'written into' a one-act play de- vised on the spot by the poet W. S. Graham -- or drawn into demonstrations of parachutists' landing techniques involv- ing jumps off the bar. Many of the best stories I have ever heard had the shabby, lugubrious bars of this hotel for their setting. Most depended for their humour on the landlord's intolerance. Jimmy had an ex-officer's disdain for anything he regarded as pretence or pushiness. Typical- ly, when the film Straw Dogs was being made nearby he showed not the least interest.
One evening the actress Susan George came into the hotel looking for her col- leagues. I'm Susan George and I'm look- ing for my co-star Dustin Hoffman,' she explained politely. Jimmy was unimpress- ed. I've been here for many years m'dear,' he replied, 'and I can assure you there is no coastguard of that name working in this area.' His many friends will miss him.
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