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John Lenkiewicz next to a self-portrait of his brother Robert at the Ben Uri |
Lenkiewicz work back in the frame at new exhibition
THERE was an unusual homecoming at an art gallery on Thursday for an artist who left Hampstead to become one of Britain’s most significant painters.
You couldn’t help being aware of it amid the buzz of excitement as relatives, friends, art lovers and “wives” of the painter, Robert Lenkiewicz, filled the Ben Uri Gallery in Boundary Road, St John’s Wood.
I say “wives” because Lenkiewicz, who, apart from his reputation as an original artist, has also gained notoriety as a force of nature women couldn’t resist.
Two of his estimated 12 “wives” were drawn to this unique exhibition of a man who grew up in West Hampstead, trained at St Martin’s art college – and then turned his back on the fashionable London art scene to settle in Plymouth. He died six years ago.
But his extraordinary lifestyle has sometimes blurred his unique talent. An artist with a social conscience, he often painted the people of the gutter: the homeless, alcholics, tramps and prostitutes.
It was this “narrative” of Lenkiewicz’s enormous canon of work that the gallery chairman, David Glasser, asked guests at the launch to put to the back of their minds. It was more important, he said, to stand back and admire Lenkiewicz’s great skill as an artist.
The feelings of admiration sometimes came out in gasps as guests stood back almost in awe, absorbing the theme of the exhibition – an array of brilliant self-portraits of Lenkiewicz. None was for sale, all were part of private collections.
After I spotted Lenkiewicz’s brother, John, whom I have met before, we found ourselves talking in front of one of the main self-portraits near the entrance when his eyes suddenly turned to it. It was of his brother, aged 15 or so, when the family lived in a small family hotel in Fordwych Road, West Hampstead in the 1950s and 1960s, two miles from the Ben Uri Gallery.
“Oh, I remember Robert panting that,” said John tenderly.
Memories would have come back of those years in a hotel where his parents welcomed Jewish refugees who had fled from Germany, and where Lenkiewicz became almost obsessively possessed of the idea that his would be the life of an artist. Filling his imagination would have been the eccentric guests at the hotel. Once, Lenkiewicz described them as a “combination of rabbis and lunatics”.
While in London, Lenkiewicz and Lucien Freud became friends but later broke up following a row over a girlfriend both shared.
Nahem Shoa, an artist trained by Lenkiewicz, told me the history of one of the major pieces in the exhibition portraying Lenkiewicz with a rat in his mouth.
After a rat had been found in his home in west London in 1976, Lenkiewicz polished off the portrait (above) while the family went out for a walk, the rat becoming a symbol of “putrefaction” – a dark view of the breakdown of a sexual relationship.
Nahem is planning to stage another Lenkiewicz exhibition in the West End early next year.
Some of the guests at the Ben Uri launch were collectors. One of them, from China, is believed to have spent several millions recently buying Lenkiewicz’s work.
It is understood Prince Andrew recently arranged for his painting of St Anthony to be hung at Windsor Palace.
Meanwhile, Paul Somerville, who owns a well-known gallery in Plymouth, and curated the Ben Uri exhibition – he also published a beautifully illustrated catalogue of the show – hopes that as interest grows in Lenkiewicz he will be able to take his works to European galleries.
Why undertakers spark the flames of passion in women
IS there something sexy about an undertaker?
What could there be about a black suit, maybe a black top hat, and a grave face that adds up to sex appeal?
I can assure readers that such thoughts were far from my mind as I stood at the back of the chapel at Golders Green crematorium on Tuesday, immersed in what I could only call the stunning Barry Sullivan Show. Or, more simply, Barry’s funeral service (see page 4). Why can’t all funeral services be such sheer, unadulterated celebrations?
A few feet away stood the smart figure of Richard Ritt from the funeral firm Levertons.
Later, as I saw him talking to the pop singer Red Jen, I asked him what women thought of undertakers.
With a twinkle in his eyes, he said: “An undertaker to a thinking woman is like a fireman...”
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