Archive for May, 2023|Monthly archive page

Forever Young: Gilbert & George

15/5/23 & 24/5/23

We are currently shooting a documentary featuring the artist(s) Gilbert & George. Today (25th May) we are filming them among their latest collection of pictures, ‘The Corpsing Pictures’, on display at the White Cube Gallery in St James’s, London. ‘Corpsing’ refers both to mortal bodies and to the theatrical/music hall term for forgetting your lines or getting the giggles. At 79 and 81 bodily decay and mortality are on their minds for sure. Their sense of performance and theatricality though remain undiminished, as is their sense of humour.

[Image courtesy of Mike Christie]

They showed up, as ever, in impeccably tailored suits, George’s with a suave double pocket on one side. When we were chatting later they surprised me by revealing the suits were the work not of some Savile Row-type tailor up West but by a bargain of a Greek suitmaker nearer their East End lair in Fournier Street, Spitalfields, london E1. We talked a little about my grandfather’s clothes factory round the corner from their studio in the 60s/70s which first brought me to their manor as a child. It is the art deco building at the junction of Hanbury Street & Commercial Street, opposite their local The Golden Heart (called Jimco back then, now returned to clothing-related purposes as All Saints, after a low spell as a spice warehouse).   

Writer Michael Bracewell under the direction of Mike Christie and in association with journalist Michael Collins carried out a fascinating interview with the duo. The highlight for me was when they were talking about their break-through performance piece or “singing sculpture” featuring the music hall song ‘Underneath the Arches’ from 1968. They spoke about how the people living on the streets of the East End and elsewhere in London at the time included many damaged by the First and particularly the Second World War, and how resonant this damaged humanity was for their evolving art. When I was at school I had a teacher called The Major with an old-school moustache (Major Blatchley-Hannah). I didn’t realise until much later how close  World War Two was to my era. Now I have a strong sense of all these silent, PTSD-damaged men among whom I must have been growing up. G&G’s words reminded me of the grotesque world of another GG, Georg Grosz.

A distinctive way of displaying a Gilbert & George at Palazzo Butera

My first exchange with G&G was about a gallery they had just returned from visiting in Palermo, Sicily, the Palazzo Butera, astounding home of the collection of Francesca & Massimo Valsecchi (beneficiaries of an automobile fortune I vaguedly remember).  It includes a half dozen excellent 80s works by Gilbert & George. They were very enthusiastic about the place. I told them I was visiting Palermo soon (for the first time) and would take up their recommendation. I am now sitting finishing this post on the terrace of that palazzo having had my mind blown by an astonishing collection & building, graced by the unique colour sense of Gilbert & George which constantly drops my jaw. I had to order some tiramisu & Italian coffee from the lovely cafe to steady myself.

Back on the shoot, towards the end we went upstairs to the buyers’ room of White Cube. By chance they had a Gilbert & George from the 70s. I guess they hadn’t seen that particular work for a good while so it was interesting to watch them reacting to that old friend. It featured black & white images of the East End (Commercial Road) looking rather bleak. And in red the letters VD. I observed to Gilbert that most young people would have no idea of the meaning of those letters any more as STI then STD took over since then as the official acronyms.

The pair were charming and warm, and became increasingly energised by the filming. I saw their Hayward show back in 1986 and have been aware of their work ever since but from first starting this film I have been totally won over by their work – I find it unique, satisfying & energising (especially their colour palette), and ever youthful.

Spit heads (1997)
Depression (1980)
The top floor