1. Grayson
flavour
IntervIew: Grayson Perry
Above: Grayson the
potter reclines in
his studio. Right: as
Claire, outside the
British Museum ahead
of his exhibition The
Tomb of the Unknown
Craftsman. Grayson
says this was his
proudest work.
as being WI members. Not that I would
generalise – they’ve changed, they’re not
perm and blue rinses any more… I imagine
it’s cupcakes and bunting now.’
Grayson has said that he hates clichés, ever
since his mum ‘ran away with the milkman’.
I learn he’s just as opposed to the idea that
you need an unhappy childhood to be an
artist – although his involved ‘a bit of divorce,
a bit of mental illness, a bit of violence’. His
nan called the NSPCC after his stepfather
(the milkman) ‘threw a particularly violent
wobbly’ but he wasn’t going ‘to kind of shop
the old man when I’ve got to live with him’,
so nothing was done.
Some would get as far away as possible
as soon as they were adults, but in 2015
Grayson explored his roots in A House for
Essex. It’s a full-size building, near the village
of Wrabness on the Stour estuary: a kitsch
cathedral that the public can stay in, with an
exterior of decorated ceramic tiles under an
elaborate copper roof. Inside, tapestries and
sculptures tell the story of Julie, a fictional
working-class girl from Canvey Island who
journeys through motherhood, divorce,
a second marriage and an untimely death.
Grayson’s interested in the roles women
play. But is he a feminist? ‘I suppose I am,
in that I believe the world would be a better
place if women had an equal part in positions
of power, because they have different life
experience.’ He
points out he has
a wife, Philippa, a
psychotherapist,
who supported him
financially until the
art began to pay when
he was 38, and a
daughter, Florence,
a journalist with
BuzzFeed, so it would
be odd to think women
were inferior. He backs quotas to get women
on to boards or into parliament: ‘A necessary
fudge, otherwise it could take 100 years.’
Grayson burst into public consciousness
in 2003 when he accepted the Turner Prize
as his alter-ego, Claire, wearing a pink party
dress with bows and frills. It’s hard to tell
whether there was more shock value in the
Turner going to something as apparently
conventional as pottery than in the man
accepting it wearing a frock.
‘I started dressing up in female clothes
consciously when I was 12. I borrowed some
of my sister’s dresses,’ he says.
Now he’s a ‘leisure’ transvestite. ‘I don’t
get much opportunity to do it any more.
If I dress up I’m “Grayson Perry”. It’s ruined
being a transvestite for me. I’m no longer this
anonymous weirdo.’
The flamboyant creations Claire wears are
made by students at
Central Saint Martins.
Their designs engage
with ideas that Grayson
explores such as identity
and narrative.
I wonder what he
thinks of the revival of
craft – what does a fine
artist make of amateurs?
‘I worry that a lot of
things that go under the
banner of craft these days are just being given
lip service. When I was young I used to make
lots of collages. I got old magazines and cut
them up. But to go to a scrapbooking supplier,
wow, what’s that about?’
He’s keen to show us his wardrobe, in a
walk-in cupboard off the studio. He strokes
the first few items as he displays them –
including motorbike leathers (he rides a
Harley-Davidson) painted with an image of
the Cerne Abbas giant, complete with penis.
There are also plenty of frocks, although this
is only one small part of his collection.
Grayson takes us into a side room, where
wet clay is laid beneath cloths. Again, he
can’t resist stroking it. It’s oddly moving –
despite the move into digital printing and
programme-making there’s a real affection
for the physical, something that, after we
leave, will come alive under his hands.
He accepted
the Turner Prize
wearing a pink
party frock with
frills and bows
Photograph:PALHANSEN
Interview by KAYE McINTOSH Photography LOUISE-HAYWOOD-SCHIEFER
A self-declared ‘transvestite potter’, who pokes fun at the art world,
makes TV shows and designs houses… just who is Grayson Perry?
I
t’s one of the most unexpected places
to come across a reference to the WI
– an exhibition by the celebrated artist
Grayson Perry, whose ceramics have
explored pop culture, child abuse and
domestic violence. His portraits of
subjects from disgraced politician Chris
Huhne to X Factor celeb Rylan Clark and
Northern Irish Loyalist marchers were dotted
in between the conventional pictures of
eminent Victorians at the National Portrait
Gallery. As I gazed at a giant tapestry in the
form of a bank note, which examines British
values – from Shakespeare to ‘bitter irony’
– I spot ‘Women’s Institute’. Those words
have been seen by 250,000 people, a
record-breaking show for the gallery.
A week later I’m knocking on the door of
Grayson’s north London studio. He surprises
me by opening it himself. I’d imagined a
Turner-prize winning, Reith Lecture-giving
artist would have a fleet of assistants but he
works alone – apart from his friend Eric,
busy with his own creations in a side room.
‘He helps me lift things up when they get too
heavy,’ Grayson says.
Unlike the usual VIP interviewees, he puts
the kettle on for me and the photographer.
I don’t know what I’d expected but this ain’t
glamorous. It’s a working potter’s studio, a
workshop with battered second-hand tables
and chairs, a kiln and a concrete, clay-
splattered floor.
So why the reference to the WI? ‘When
I look out at the audience as I’m giving a
talk, I could frame some of the people in my
30 WILIFEFEBRUARY 2016
Photograph:PALHANSEN