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Green Pebble Magazine
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Articles> Paul Harris
‘A
rope has never been made, that can bind
thought.’ Thus asserts a proverb that could
have been written for Paul Harris, a Norfolk
painter who has battled unforgiving odds to
become a professional artist.
Paul
is a man whose oil paintings are so evocative that they rarely fail to move
the people who have the opportunity to see one of his pieces. From the penetrating
expression on Paul’s father’s face in Bernard Harris
(featured image) to the manic imagery of Old Man with Two Kiwi Fruit,
Paul’s works explore complex and sometimes uncomfortable truths, the
pictures’ content challenging the viewer to question the nature of
relationships and in the process, to discover something about themselves.
Twenty-five years ago, Paul - like most young adults - allowed himself to
be influenced by those around him. Although he had always wanted to be an
artist, he quickly noticed ‘a kind of rot’ setting in quite
early in his art education, with teachers telling him that only a lucky
few could become artists.
Everyone else, he was told, should consider becoming illustrators or graphic
designers.
He took their advice, enrolled on a BTEC course in graphic design, and found
the lessons ‘mind-numbingly boring’. Worse, he was shy and hardly
spoke to the other people on the course. Realising he was on the wrong path,
he enrolled on a foundation course at the same college with the intention
of taking an art degree afterwards. He states that here his relationship
with his fellow students was much better, but he still found it difficult
to socialise.
His disillusionment continued to deepen. ‘I thought the other students
would be as enthusiastic about art as I was, but it was as though the majority
of them had just wandered in because they could not think of anything else
to do. Without the enthusiasm of others to inspire me, I found it difficult
to motivate myself.’
When, upon joining the Camberwell School of Art, the students there too
failed to live up to his expectations, Paul began to suffer from bouts of
depression. He was, he says now, unusually naïve and gullible. But
he soldiered on despite feeling hopelessly lost, and completed his degree
show.
‘Not one comment was made about my work,’ he remembers, summing
up as ‘appalling’ what should have been a highlight of every
art student’s life.
Thankfully, not every experience was a negative one. In the early years
before the frustration and alienation truly took hold, Paul met Peter Knox,
a successful illustrator ‘whose enthusiasm for expressing the minutiae
of life, both verbally and in his work, was totally thrilling at the time.’
Paul remembers Peter as ‘a kind of cool nerd type who managed to pull
off a moustache and glasses combo, and drove a VW Beetle that was kept in
mint condition. He was inspiring, encouraging and very funny. He influenced
me a great deal.’
Even at Camberwell, Paul felt he learned to understand conceptual art to
a level where he was able to talk intelligently about it with the tutors.
‘I felt I earned the respect of some of them,’ he says. ‘They
must have seen me as naïve, but they could see some potential.’
Most importantly, he had matured and begun to think for himself, developing
a sense of determination which would help him weather further illnesses
and setbacks.
For about seven years he went from one job to another, both in England and
abroad. ‘I still had very low self-esteem but I gradually managed
to deal with, and eventually beat, my depression. This period of time had
a massive effect on me and on my outlook on life, but it was not planned
that way. I was the proverbial drunken monkey staggering aimlessly through
life, but I gained immensely from it anyway.’
He re-trained as a stonemason and carver at Weymouth
College but suffered from psychosis while he was there. Failing to alert
his doctor because he was afraid he would be sectioned, he experienced what
he describes was the worst time of his life. ‘I hesitate to say that
I experienced true horror because it was all in my head, but I was terrified.
At first I could see the sane person behind the illness. But I could feel
my inner sane self being slowly eroded by the constant crazy input. Luckily,
I slowly began to recover, but my mind had taken such a battering I thought
it unlikely that there would not be repercussions in the future.’
This experience had, he believes, a massive influence
on his later paintings. ‘I think I would have had to be exceptionally
unresponsive for it not to have had some effect on my work, but in fact
I am sure the painting I do now would be completely different had this profound
experience not taken place.’
But painting was still something awaiting him in the
future. For now Paul remained focused on getting through one day at a time;
a process greatly helped by Louise Tiplady, a young woman who would prove
to be one of the most important influences in his life.
A student at the same college, Louise worked with Paul at Hereford Cathedral
where their project involved replacing almost all the stones at the end
of the Lady Chapel. They shaped huge stones with complex mouldings and intricate
carvings of dragons, leaves and heads.
‘Some masons never get to do work like this,’
Paul enthuses. ‘We were asked to only use traditional hand tools to
carve the blocks. We were incredibly fortunate.’
Although the work at the Cathedral was interesting, the pay was poor and
it wasn’t long before Paul and Louise set up their own masonry business.
The repetitive nature of some of their commissions even had a plus side:
‘It enabled my mind to wander and fantasize about painting pictures.
I attempted to work out solutions to the difficulties I had experienced
when painting in the past.’
Unfortunately, the long hours and hard work took their toll and eventually
Paul and Louise separated, although they continued to work together. Stressed,
Paul took a ten-day meditation course to try and calm down but, alarmingly,
it had an entirely unexpected effect on him.
‘During the course I let out a completely involuntary scream and briefly
experienced a few of the symptoms associated with an anxiety condition.
Eventually I became so ill that I couldn’t work. At times I couldn’t
even speak or move.’
All Paul could do was to think. And after expending ‘a huge amount
of thought lying on the sofa’, he came to the realisation that the
only job he wanted to do, was to be a painter.
And so he began to paint. Progress was slow as he was usually too ill to
work, but he finally finished his first painting.
A portrait of Louise.
He entered it into the National Portrait Gallery’s 2004 BP Portrait
competition, and won second prize.
In the same year his second painting - a portrait
of stonemason Simon Cartwright - won the Cornelissen prize at the Royal
Institute of Oil Painters’ annual exhibition at the Mall Gallery.
For Paul, the dawn had finally begun to arrive.
‘I became far more optimistic about the possibility of being successful
at something; the great thing was that ‘something’ was my dream
occupation.’
This isn’t a fairy tale and Paul wasn’t miraculously cured by
the healing power of art; nor was he catapulted to instant stardom. But
his condition improved and when Louise was offered an apprenticeship in
Norfolk, Paul ‘kind of tagged along’.
Louise remains what Paul calls his secret weapon. ‘She has always
been extraordinarily good at criticising my work and making suggestions.
She is now in a new relationship, and I don’t see her quite as much,
but we are still good friends.’
Today, Paul’s anxiety condition is not as severe
as it used to be and the improvement has allowed him to make what, for a
time, would have been impossible decisions. Like meeting with Doric Arts
in Holt to discuss his work.
‘We had already heard about Paul from, interestingly, other artists,’
says Doric Arts owner Russell Boulter. ‘That usually tells you something
fairly good.
He was recommended to come and see us by an artist friend who thought he
would be comfortable here. We knew that he wasn’t crazy about galleries
in general, and it took quite a time to actually arrange a meeting and for
him to bring us some pieces to view.’
As soon as Russell and his business partner Clare Walker met Paul in person
and saw his work, they were intrigued.
Russell was particularly struck by Paul’s ‘fantastic technical
quality’.
Paul paints in what Russell describes as the most
difficult of mediums, oils used in the old traditional way, and egg tempera.
‘It is almost as if he wants to make it as difficult as possible for
himself,’ Russell says, probably coming closer to the truth than he
realises.
The subject matter, too, impressed the gallery. ‘We are talking about
the combination of a renaissance face here, a Stanley Spencerish body sometimes,
and also absolute realist images combined together,’ Russell says.
‘Then, of course, we have elements of surrealism. Apart from his pure
portraits, as in Simon Cartwright, there is always narrative in Paul's work
and people are always figuring out the stories in his paintings. Even Simon
Cartwright, a straightforward portrait, conveyed something quite indefinable.
These comments have been echoed over and over again by clients both old
and new.’
At present Doric is the only gallery to represent Paul. ‘With the
right exposure and enough work, Paul could be a force in the art world for
many, many years,’ Russell says. ‘He is already collectable
and his standing can only move up.’
For Paul, approaching Doric Arts involved a monumental
effort but one he does not regret. In his opinion, Russell and Clare have
created ‘a superb gallery, which contains work that is of a high enough
quality to be of interest to the serious collector, but has a very broad
price range.’
Equally important to a man who has always yearned for the company of kindred
spirits, is that Russell and Clare both ‘come across as warm and friendly,
and have a genuine interest in art and talking to people…I feel very
fortunate to work with them.’
The gallery’s seal of approval has had a vast impact on Paul. His
work sells for up to £10,000, and if he wanted to, he could call himself
an ‘artist’ – a term he shunned for the longest time because
it felt farcical. Even today he would prefer to call himself a painter and
printmaker. It feels safer, especially to a self-depreciating man who worries
that people may view self-proclaimed artists as ‘pretentious idlers’.
‘Painter and printmaker may have some of the
same connotations,’ he admits, ‘but at least it shows that I
have made two solid decisions in my life.’
It’s difficult to get Paul to talk about specific paintings. As far
as he is concerned, each viewer will react differently to a painting and
usually the painter will not be there to explain it. ‘The relationship
the viewer has with my kind of painting is an individual and personal one,’
he says, deliberately avoiding questions about Breadmaker and Old
Man with Two Kiwi Fruit. ‘I always paint with this in mind.’
But what he does enjoy talking about, is the process of painting itself.
‘I love the versatility and beauty of oil paints, particularly the
intensity of colour. I have also started to use an egg tempera under-painting.
Oils and egg tempera are very different to work with, both have qualities
that are unique and useful. The wonderful thing is that they lose very few
of those qualities when they are combined.’
Paul likes to produce preliminary studies for his
paintings and uses models, drawings, his imagination, photographs and work
from life to put an image together. ‘Some of the paintings will have
a plan stage where I work out the composition and the perspective,’
he explains. ‘Then I’ll often create a separate cartoon to work
out the tonal values and finalise all the details. Usually I will trace
this cartoon onto a linen panel and draw onto it using silverpoint and ink.
Then I begin the egg tempera under-painting.’
This is a very traditional method, he concedes, ‘But I am not nostalgic
about it. I honestly believe that this type of painting can be more than
a charming trip into the past.’
More recently he decided to explore the use of another ‘traditional’
tool – etching. ‘I find it incredibly beautiful. I would like
my painting and etching to influence one another, and help each other to
develop. I love the challenge and complexity of trying to produce a good
painting.’
Currently, he is working on a series in which three of the paintings depict
a scene containing a man and a woman.
‘I do not consciously attempt to produce themed
groups, but even with the few paintings that I have produced since 2004,
I can see that they are starting to appear.’
When summing up this current work, he adds, ‘Figurative work is very
good at exposing weaknesses in the person who created it. The work that
I make will inevitably contain my weaknesses both as an artist and as a
person.’
Then, modestly: ‘I attempt to make work that is not totally ruined
by this.’
Paul Harris’s
paintings can be viewed at Doric Arts, 4 Albert Street, Holt, Norfolk, NR25
6HX,
Tel:
(01263) 711084 Email: info@doricart.com
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