Grayson Perry at the Cambridge Union in 2004. Photograph: Getty Images
Show Hide image

Grayson Perry: “I joined the cadets. I loved running around with guns”

The NS Interview.

Your latest work is a series of tapestries that explore class and taste in modern Britain. Why tapestries?
Do you want the real reason, or the reason that sounds really good?

Both, please.
One reason is that I could put on a large exhi­bition relatively quickly. It would take me two years to fill this room with pots, whereas the drawings for the tapestries took me three months. But I also chose tapestries because they were the status symbols of the super-rich, and they tell the stories of big national dramas and battles. I thought it would be interesting to show more everyday drama on them.

You have a reputation for being one of the least pretentious contemporary artists.
Sometimes people are scared of the truth. They are scared that it’s like The Wizard of Oz: that if they told the truth it would pull the curtain back and you’d find out they were just this little person who was making it behind. Trying to justify yourself with false intellectualism is one of the most annoying habits artists have.

Have you ever thought that a piece of contemporary art is just rubbish?
Oh, yes, all the time. Once I was listening to Bill Viola on the radio, years ago, and he was talking about a piece and he said, “It’s about the human condition.” It might have been about the human condition, but that’s almost like calling something profound – you don’t do it. You let people come to that conclusion themselves. Show not tell, as they say.

Is there an element of “emperor’s new clothes” about some art?
Artists are remarkably good at being the weavers of the emperor’s new clothes as well as being the emperor. Sometimes they clothe themselves in this stuff but they don’t need to. Often the best artists are totally honest about why they make stuff.

What is the most important aspect of what you make?
Being amusing is one part of it. I want people to be seduced by the material and to enjoy the colour and the texture, almost like the possess­ibility of the object and the richness of it.

Is there such a thing as good taste?
Everybody has an idea of good taste and it’s shaped by the group they are in.

So it’s just conformism?
It depends, doesn’t it? Some people’s good taste is more conformist than others’, because in the art world good taste wouldn’t be conformist. Good taste in the art world is to be quite revolutionary and innovative.

So you’re conforming by not conforming?
Yes. And that’s something I slightly trade on, because I slightly mock artists for their desire for novelty the whole time.

Is that why you use traditional media such as tapestry and pottery?
I don’t innovate. I never break the boundary of a tradition. My tapestries are not unusual tapestries; they’re the right shape, the right size, they haven’t got things growing out of them. I’m interested in the content, not the form.

By cross-dressing from an early age were you rejecting convention?
There’s an element of that. I think that’s why gay people often find it easier to be alternative in their tastes, because they’ve already been forced out of the convention by their sexuality.

Do you ever suffer from impostor syndrome?
I used to have it terribly when I first had exhi­bitions. I remember waiting in the foyer of the Stedelijk Museum in Amsterdam for the curator to come and pick me up to start organising a show. I had this strong sense that someone was going to tap me on the shoulder and say, “There’s been a mistake.” Particularly if you come from a working-class background, you have low expectations of yourself.

Your wife is a psychotherapist. Has that informed your art?
Hugely. I did therapy for six years.

How did that change how you work?
I describe it as somebody clearing up your tool shed – suddenly I had access to my whole personality.

Did you once say that you could have been a serial killer if you hadn’t become an artist?
Yes. I was quite an angry young man. I joined the cadets; I loved it. I loved all that running around with guns. I can understand how people end up like that. But of course I went to art school, so it was fine.

Is there anything you’d like to forget?
I can’t remember.

Are we all doomed?
Yes, we are, because human beings aren’t capable of acting in a cohesive way to solve something that they can’t see in front of their faces. Global warming and all that sort of stuff – it’s too abstract, isn’t it?

Defining Moments

1960 Born in Chelmsford, Essex. Starts cross-dressing at an early age
1982 BA, fine art, Portsmouth Polytechnic
1983 Moves to London and takes pottery lessons at Central Institute
2003 Wins Turner Prize – first time it has gone to a ceramicist
2005 Presents Channel 4 documentary on men who wear women’s clothes
2009 Thames & Hudson publishes Jacky Klein’s anthology of his work

 

Jemima Khan is associate editor of the New Statesman

This article first appeared in the 02 July 2012 issue of the New Statesman, Clegg the martyr

Getty
Show Hide image

The New Times: Brexit, globalisation, the crisis in Labour and the future of the left

With essays by David Miliband, Paul Mason, John Harris, Lisa Nandy, Vince Cable and more.

Once again the “new times” are associated with the ascendancy of the right. The financial crash of 2007-2008 – and the Great Recession and sovereign debt crises that were a consequence of it – were meant to have marked the end of an era of runaway “turbocapitalism”. It never came close to happening. The crash was a crisis of capitalism but not the crisis of capitalism. As Lenin observed, there is “no such thing as an absolutely hopeless situation” for capitalism, and so we discovered again. Instead, the greatest burden of the period of fiscal retrenchment that followed the crash was carried by the poorest in society, those most directly affected by austerity, and this in turn has contributed to a deepening distrust of elites and a wider crisis of governance.

Where are we now and in which direction are we heading?

Some of the contributors to this special issue believe that we have reached the end of the “neoliberal” era. I am more sceptical. In any event, the end of neoliberalism, however you define it, will not lead to a social-democratic revival: it looks as if, in many Western countries, we are entering an age in which centre-left parties cannot form ruling majorities, having leaked support to nationalists, populists and more radical alternatives.

Certainly the British Labour Party, riven by a war between its parliamentary representatives and much of its membership, is in a critical condition. At the same time, Jeremy Corbyn’s leadership has inspired a remarkable re-engagement with left-wing politics, even as his party slumps in the polls. His own views may seem frozen in time, but hundreds of thousands of people, many of them young graduates, have responded to his anti-austerity rhetoric, his candour and his shambolic, unspun style.

The EU referendum, in which as much as one-third of Labour supporters voted for Brexit, exposed another chasm in Labour – this time between educated metropolitan liberals and the more socially conservative white working class on whose loyalty the party has long depended. This no longer looks like a viable election-winning coalition, especially after the collapse of Labour in Scotland and the concomitant rise of nationalism in England.

In Marxism Today’s “New Times” issue of October 1988, Stuart Hall wrote: “The left seems not just displaced by Thatcherism, but disabled, flattened, becalmed by the very prospect of change; afraid of rooting itself in ‘the new’ and unable to make the leap of imagination required to engage the future.” Something similar could be said of the left today as it confronts Brexit, the disunities within the United Kingdom, and, in Theresa May, a prime minister who has indicated that she might be prepared to break with the orthodoxies of the past three decades.

The Labour leadership contest between Corbyn and Owen Smith was largely an exercise in nostalgia, both candidates seeking to revive policies that defined an era of mass production and working-class solidarity when Labour was strong. On matters such as immigration, digital disruption, the new gig economy or the power of networks, they had little to say. They proposed a politics of opposition – against austerity, against grammar schools. But what were they for? Neither man seemed capable of embracing the “leading edge of change” or of making the imaginative leap necessary to engage the future.

So is there a politics of the left that will allow us to ride with the currents of these turbulent “new times” and thus shape rather than be flattened by them? Over the next 34 pages 18 writers, offering many perspectives, attempt to answer this and related questions as they analyse the forces shaping a world in which power is shifting to the East, wars rage unchecked in the Middle East, refugees drown en masse in the Mediterranean, technology is outstripping our capacity to understand it, and globalisation begins to fragment.

— Jason Cowley, Editor 

Tom Kibasi on what the left fails to see

Philip Collins on why it's time for Labour to end its crisis

John Harris on why Labour is losing its heartland

Lisa Nandy on how Labour has been halted and hollowed out

David Runciman on networks and the digital revolution

John Gray on why the right, not the left, has grasped the new times

Mariana Mazzucato on why it's time for progressives to rethink capitalism

Robert Ford on why the left must reckon with the anger of those left behind

Ros Wynne-Jones on the people who need a Labour government most

Gary Gerstle on Corbyn, Sanders and the populist surge

Nick Pearce on why the left is haunted by the ghosts of the 1930s

Paul Mason on why the left must be ready to cause a commotion

Neal Lawson on what the new, 21st-century left needs now

Charles Leadbeater explains why we are all existentialists now

John Bew mourns the lost left

Marc Stears on why democracy is a long, hard, slow business

Vince Cable on how a financial crisis empowered the right

David Miliband on why the left needs to move forward, not back

This article first appeared in the 22 September 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The New Times