Rose Wiley is an artist I discovered only a few years ago. Her art is so authentic and real you either connect with it immediately or you hesitate to try and figure it all out. The interview below between Wiley and Rosanna Durham gives the viewer greater understanding of Wiley's art and her creative process.
Large-scale painter Rose Wylie has an exhibition at Tate Britain opening on Tuesday. Rosanna Durham spoke to Rose for Issue Six.
Rose Wylie is a rare thing: a painter labelled as up-and-coming despite being in her seventies. She went to art school in 1956 but after graduating she stopped working to look after her children. In 1979, Rose picked up her brushes again and is now a celebrated artist. She paints motifs from popular culture on huge canvases with childlike directness, layering paint and paper many times to achieve the effect she wants. She is a keen film fan and this often finds its way into her work.
Are you frustrated that your work wasn’t better known earlier in your career?
I’ve done loads of painting without any pressure, which is very nice. You may not have recognition or money, but you can do what you like. I’ve always liked the restriction of not having money. When artists become successful, their work doesn’t stay the same. When people buy my work, in one way I don’t want them to take it and in another way I’ve got too many paintings to handle. But as soon as your paintings leave, you don’t want them to.
If you get recognised just out of art college, you’ve got to work with that reputation and the misery of whether you can keep it going or not. You do stuff according to what people want to buy and that’s the worst thing. That’s why I always thought Madonna was so good, because she did something quite different and occasionally quite shocking.
I’m also a big fan of Madonna because she always reinvents herself. So am I. Some of the things she did were difficult for people to take, but I’m a fan. I’ve done loads of drawings of Madonna. My husband listens to her music more than I do. I don’t have music in the studio. I can’t be arsed with it. I’m not technologically dependent.
Why do you paint with your canvas on the floor?
I suppose it’s the opposite of the rather fancy male painter on his easel. Traditionally men go out to work and women potter around the house cleaning. Painting on the floor links to a lot about women’s lives—or far too much of it, anyway—things about scrubbing and cleaning on your hands and knees. But I hate cleaning. My paintings are, obliquely, about male domination. I don’t like male domination. I hate it. I just want equality. I think women can be different from men, but not always.
Your method of work is also interesting because you stick pieces of paper over your drawings and start again, or even stitch extra pieces of canvas onto paintings in progress. You have to keep changing a painting or drawing to get it to look right. You handle the materials in order to do what you do. Now a lot of people think, “Oh these paintings are very nice because they have these additions.” But the additions are only there because I wanted more room on the canvas. I don’t start off thinking I’m going to add a piece because it might become a mannerism and I don’t actually like that. I’m against mannerisms. They are fake. I think they can take over and become routine.
I like things happening spontaneously. So when I’m drawing, I work a lot with ink, and you can’t rub it out or remove it. So I stick a bit of paper down and go on over it. If that’s not right, I stick another piece and then that may be better. The paper can get quite thick.
That reminds me: I was always told not to rub out my drawings when I was in primary school. I love rubbing out because we’re told not to! I tend to do things that you’re advised not to do. I don’t like the ultra ‘I am so serious’ attitude to life. But some people are more interested in knowledge and knowing stuff. They’re not interested in a picture if it hasn’t been printed in an art magazine. They love acceptance, they love print, they like confirmation.
I think a lot of people are unsure about what to think.Reinforcement is important for people, but if you decide that you are going against that as an artist, you see a different side. My daughter has a friend and he poo-poos what I do because he thinks it’s childish and silly.
What, openly? Oh, yes, he howls with laughter. He asks her, “What kind of absurd thing is your mother doing now?”
How do you feel about him saying that?
Wonderful! I don’t mind it at all. It’s all grist, you see. Some people see my paintings and say, “This is nursery work.” But in fact, I like art that isn’t knowing. I did a painting about African lorry art, for example. When untaught African artists want to get their work seen, they paint lorries. The lorry goes from village to village, town to town. It’s like a touring art exhibition! They paint what they know: lions, zebras, palm trees and lizards. And they do them in the most beautiful way, not steeped in knowledge of the history of art. I think they are terrific. Cartoons slot into that way of working.
What’s interesting about cartoons for you? Cartoons are very elemental. They pick up a clear aspect of something or someone and then they put it down in a rather exaggerated way. Cartoon language is there in some of my paintings and I’ve used the style of the cartoon shadows in my figures. Painting is nothing to do with being right or wrong or logic anyway.
You’ve mentioned before that you also find children’s work interesting.
I like children’s work very much. A child will just look at a boat and draw it. There won’t be any stylistic form. I don’t like artistic things. I know the argument that you can’t do children’s work when you’re not a child. After a while you begin to think “I’m an artist” and you do artist’s work. When I watch films, I try to deal with them like a child looking at a boat.
You’ve recently painted a scene from Inglourious Basterds. Tell me about your relationship with Tarantino.
His films are pretty violent, and also completely over the top. Uma Thurman killing all those men in black at the end of the first Kill Bill! She kills about a hundred and ninety men; slices them up. But, and you probably think this rather peculiar having said it’s a bit violent, I think he leads a campaign for a hidden, spiritual re-look at things. I don’t know whether you agree?
Really? Tarantino? Well, there’s a scene in Pulp Fiction where Joules is saved from being shot at. Protected by spirituality, which Tarantino is obviously interested in. The bullet episode is actually a miracle, and it is in fact a cloudily spiritual film.
I have to re-watch it after what you just said. Everyone just thinks of him as a very smart, possibly fake, over-violent Hollywood director.
How do you use films in your painting?
I think films are a very interesting 20th and 21st century art form. When I grew up films were lesser art forms. My husband and I watch a lot of films. Soon they start to merge. If you watch two or three films a week, you do mix them up. If I see something in a film and think it’s memorable, or just terrific, I let it sink in and the next day I try and draw it. Then I really know if it was memorable or not.
Focus: Rose Wylie runs from 14 May - 6 October at Tate Britain.
