Roots in Sheffield

Made in Sheffield: Johnny, Paul, Phil, Gill.

The back-cloth to Johnny's birth in 1940 is war-time, industrial Sheffield. With his father away at war, the first seven years of his life were spent with his mother’s family in the village of Wortley, set in idyllic countryside outside Sheffield.

At the end of the war, Johnny met his father and the idyll was replaced by the grim reality of life in Dalton, on the outskirts of Rotherham; a hardworking, harsh environment, where most lads’ futures lay down the coal mine or at the steel works and not in lofty halls of learning.  In that stark reality, Johnny’s independent nature was fostered.

‘My father didn’t give me much,’ he reminisces, ‘but he had a room full of books – all early English water colours and I used to go and look at them.  They were an escape from my reality – which wasn’t too good.  I was ten and beginning to be aware, without understanding why, that for some reason, I didn’t fit in.’

A means of escape

The family moved to Bridlington when Johnny was thirteen and during the turbulence of the break-down of his parent’s marriage, his constant companion and escape was his developing passion for art.  By sixteen, he was captivated by the Impressionists and their vivid world.  ‘Artists were portrayed leading wonderful lives of romance and being hard-up and I wanted to be part of it.  I knew I wasn’t going to find it in the Bridlington of the late fifties, so I moved to Leeds and the West Indian community in Chapel Town – my first fascinating taste of a vibrant, different culture.’

He survived by labouring on building sights, painting in every spare moment and visiting galleries to study the works of artists.  The misfit boy who hated school was transforming into the man who uses his paintings to try and make some sense of it all.

In the late 1960s Johnny had settled in Harrogate and was on his way to establishing a career and reputation in the contemporary art world: teaching, lecturing and exhibiting.  However, by 1972 he was struggling to manage the tensions between mounting, external career pressures and his deeply introspective self.  Contemporary art was moving away from the influences of painting and drawing, both of which are fundamental disciplines for Johnny and he eventually withdrew from the outside world to devote himself entirely to painting without compromise.

Thatcher's funeral

As this is a diary and a record of our journey to the Exhibition, I am noting her funeral today because it is a national event and not because I feel anything, other than relief that she is gone.  My father's family came from Durham mining stock and the Middleton's from Sheffield and Rotherham: they aren't crying either.

Paul and his Angst Band always finish Wednesday night at the Blues Bar with Hey Mama, the pre-amble to which is 'Sheffield 1953': Paul's take on Thatcher's impact on his community.  I'm sorry I haven't a video to show you of Paul performing this - it really is a treat!

Sheffield 1953
I was pedalling down Rawmarsh High Street on my tricycle.
My eyes are streaming with water.  Why?
Because on Monday night they've been smelting iron ore
And the red dust was getting into my eyes,
Blown up from the corners of the street.
I was sat at the bus stop, looking up at the double decker buses.
And on the top deck are men in flat caps -
And I know they're wearing clogs.
And they're smoking Woodbines and Park Drives
And they're coughing a lot.





And they're on their way to the smelting works in Park Gate,
Or, they're on their way home from the smelting works in Park Gate.

And then along came Margaret Thatcher

Or, they're on their way to the steel works in Sheffield,
Or, they're on their way home from the steel works in Sheffield.

Or, they're on their way to the pits in Barnsley,
Or, they're on their way home from the pits in Barnsley:
And they're coughing a lot.

And they're happy, because they know that at home,
Wifey is pumicing the front doorstep.
Wifeys were proud of their front door steps.
Also, their doors were always open,
So no matter how much shit I got in my eyes,
A wifey will come out and say,
'Are you alright love?
Here, come in.
Does your Mum know where you are?
Do you want a jam sandwich?'
'Thank you missus.'

Life was good!

And then along came Margaret Thatcher!

And now, where once there were pits
And where there were steel works and smelting works,
There's leisure centres and fucking Tescos as big as Doncaster!
And there's one coming to a town near you!

Paul Middleton

Exhibition dates for your diary!

Well, it's done!  Clive and Sarah have booked the Coningsby Gallery, London 8th - 14th June 2014.


'I'm really excited!' said Johnny.
'Well look it!'  I instructed.

I was granted one shot ...

Gallery address:

Coningsby Gallery
30 Tottenham Street
London
W1T 4RJ

Johnny is planning his paintings.  I am planning my wardrobe.

Daiva's perspective

Daiva

Beautiful, enigmatic Daiva has modelled for Johnny for four years.  Just before she left Harrogate last week to return to her home in Lithuania, I asked her to tell me how she came to be one of his models.  She is herself an accomplished artist and dancer and widow of sculptor Jonas Luksiate.

'It was in Blues Bar - it was my second dance performance.  After performance Marta came and asked, 'Can Paul’s brother draw you?'

I said, 'I don’t know him – if I know his style, maybe.

We had  meeting in his studio.  I saw only abstracts and no figurative.  He said he did figurative work many years ago and he was trying to get back into it.  He showed me some of his drawings and they were amazing.  The line was perfect, very sharp where it should be sharp and soft, where it should be soft.

I find that this man is a genius at drawing the line – not everyone can do it.  I saw a drawing of leg and hand holding a cigarette. The line so perfect to give an expression of hand – only one line to show shape.  He is really good artist and I can give my time.

He said that at the moment he is interested to draw legs, if I can model to sit or stand.  So I said yes I can do it.

I remember two years ago, I was sitting on a chair in the Studio modelling – my dream was to go to India to learn the Bharatanatyam (Indian classical dance).  I was saving my money to go to India.  It was maybe a few months before I leave,  I was sitting very quietly looking at paintings in front of me  and dreaming about travel.  He did drawing on white paper – only line.

Entrance to the Temple

 After few weeks I asked him if he had finished the painting and he had.  I was shocked because he draw my leg, with the dancer's bells and between my legs he put the painting that I had been looking  at – the painting is 'Entrance to Temple'.  It was as if he had read my mind – subconsciously he put everything in one – my mind, my figure and my dream.  I asked, "How did you do this? This is magic?"

In India, I was there to learn dance, but I met Brahmans and spent two weeks in temple – they taught me about the dance and the ritual.  I found more information about the dance from Brahmans - the knowledge is about ten thousand years old.  I came to the Entrance to Temple.

I had dreamed of learning the Bharatanatyam dance since I was ten – I don’t know why.  After thirty years, he draw me and  – he did magic – he opened the doors for me to the mystery of the dance - the meaning of the entrance to temple.  I have connection with Johnny of high level – he is incredibly intuitive.

My husband was sculptor and he did a lot of my figure in bronze and marble and they were really beautiful.  He was professional sculptor – Jonas (Johnny) - so I know how my body looks and I was modelling all my life – I was like a muse for him.  He expressed the politic, the essence … Some of his sculptures are in parks and museums in Lithuania.  He died eight years ago.

Johnny by Daiva

I am artistic, I love to paint characters – Paul, Marta and Adam the drummer.  I am familiar with art – can see line, detail.  Johnny’s art is professional plus magic.'

I'd had a wonderful evening with Daiva and been given a fascinating, perceptive glimpse through her eyes.  Why is it that you often meet the loveliest people, or find the best bar or restaurant on the last night of a holiday, yet they have been under your nose all the time?

Seeing things

'I can't find my brown glasses,' said Johnny, 'and I need them.  I've looked all over for them.'
'Well, let me have a look - sometimes a pair of fresh eyes will do the trick,' said I, supremely confident in my ability to find them.


I began in the Studio - Johnny was in the process of tidying.  'The problem is,' said Johnny, 'I've some big paintings on the go - they take up space and I can't do figurative work when it's in such a tip.'

They're bound to be here, I thought...

 Or here ...

One of these, surely?

 Or these?

Or these?

Yes?

Mission failed.

'Did you find them?' I asked days later.

'Yes.'

'Where were they?'

'I can't remember - then I lost them again - but I found them under the bed.'

I must count the pairs of spectacles - just for interest.

The man who lost his head

The man who lost his head

The story behind the painting

It developed from a true story.

'Hundreds of years ago,' recounted Johnny, 'I was in Notting Hill somewhere.  It was very, very windy and I was looking to cross a road.  There was a guy walking on the other side and his hat blew off - but underneath he was wearing a wig.  The hat flew off and the wig, still stuck to his forehead, flopped forward and covered his face.  Quickly he pushed the wig back onto the top of his head, held it down with his hand and then chased after his hat.  The scene was crazed  - people moved out of his way.  He was crazed - when his hat blew off, he lost his head.'