Spectacle makers: an interview with David Shrigley

Spectacle Makers: An interview with David Shrigley

As part of Spectacle Makers for London Design Festival 2024, the artist David Shrigley designed a frame with one big eye, and one small eye. We visited him in his Brighton studio, to talk about his work, and about why you shouldn’t pay too much attention to the things artists say about their work.

#Interviews

David's frame, with one big eye, one small eye

C Hello David. Thank you for your spectacles. I saw your frame amongst all the designs, and instantly knew it was yours. Are you conscious of having a style?

D Well it’s the stupidest design. I’m not aware of having a style. It’s like having a personality. For me it’s usually a matter of trying to do the opposite of what you’re supposed to do. The opposite of rational thinking is creative thinking, as far as I’m concerned.

C There’s something inherently funny about things that don’t do what they are supposed to do.

D Well it's nice to make objects that have some artistic intervention but that still function. It’s good if your artwork has a use in the real world, because the function of artwork a lot of the time is just to be looked at. If you can actually use it, it’s interesting because it suggests that it’s a work in progress, that it has a life beyond you in the moment when you've made it.

C Is that an important part of making art more accessible for you? Giving it a life beyond the gallery wall.

D I've been asked to do t-shirts and whatnot since I started having any profile as an artist. And because my work is very graphic, it lends itself to it. If I were Monet for example, I would be more reluctant to have my paintings on a tea towel. But I'm not Monet. Water Lilies doesn’t work on a tea towel, but my funny drawings work on a coaster.

C And you get to be involved in the production. Monet doesn’t get a say in the tea towels.

D We’re speculating as to Monet’s attitude about having Water Lilies on a tea towel. But I’m going to stick my neck out and say he wouldn’t have liked it.

Paint brushes, which the artist David Shrigley uses to paint

C Picasso—another artist who features on tea towels—said ‘I’ve spent my adult life trying to draw like a child’. Do you relate to that?

D It makes sense, but for me, I’ve spent my life trying to make art that is good enough to show the world. I can't remember what it was like being a child because it was too long ago. I studied at art school, so I do know how to draw. I'm just not particularly good at it. I can't be bothered to draw really well. Attempting to represent three dimensions on a two dimensional plane isn't something I really care about very much. And I think it sort of gets in the way of making a good drawing as far as I'm concerned.

One thing I’ve realised about the things artists say is that there’s a lot of space to fill. I’ve said a lot of things but I don’t know what they are because I don’t read them back. I’ve probably contradicted myself. These are the sorts of questions I only have to think about in conversations like this.

C It forces you to think about it in a way that isn’t necessarily related to the making of the artwork?

D Yes, and as a result you end up making statements that people write down and think they represent your work. But sometimes it’s just something you said after you had some biscuits and a strong cup of coffee.

I read a book recently, with basically everything Philip Guston ever wrote about his artwork. And he talks about fifteenth century Italian frescoes and how they were pivotal to the evolution of his painting. And I’m thinking: ‘you’re telling me you’re painting pictures of cartoon-like Ku Klux Klansman and that’s somehow evolved from fifteenth century Italian frescoes?’ But if you’re an artist you can say whatever you like and it’s true if it’s the way you want to think about it.

No-one else could trace the lineage between the two things and claim them to be linked, and for me there’s some beauty in that. Just saying whatever you like about the work. It’s just something the artist says. You can do without it.

C With that in mind, and thinking about doing the opposite of the thing you’re supposed to do, does that make you want to plant misinformation when you’re having conversations like this?

D Perhaps. The things artists say about their work, and the work itself are two different things. I think my painting of a potato with the word ‘potato’ written on it is a great graphic work. I don’t have the theory to back that up.

David's frame in the Cubitts workshop

'It's nice to remind yourself that it’s good for the world, to make art'

C What about social media? You use it as a kind of gallery.

D It’s just a necessary thing I suppose. It’s a unique forum to show my work. But in terms of interacting with it, I don’t do that. Apart from to look at stuff about dogs, football, contemporary music, digital Casio watches. Stuff that the algorithm decides.

C There seems to be a kind of digital dadaism that your work taps into. So it’s interesting that your work runs in parallel with that.

D Dada’s an interesting comparison, because it was the first movement that really struck a chord with me. It’s a hundred years or so since Dada, and that was a group with defining principles, very much contrary to the way that artists behave in society now. It came out of the First World War, and what they were making didn’t make sense, in the same way the world didn’t make sense at that time. So you can understand that form of protest.

Whereas dadaism now—my sort of thing—it’s about a really obtuse attitude towards rational thought. Again it’s doing all the things you’re not supposed to do.

C But it’s not necessarily the product of a certain time?

D Well there are lots of things to be very angry about. Making art is a therapy for me against that anger and frustration and disappointment that politically the world presents us with.

C So is there a link to you between creating and your mental wellbeing?

D I think you always feel a bit guilty in a way, because being an artist is really such a privilege. All I've ever wanted is to be left alone in the studio. I've managed to make a career doing that. And you ask yourself the question: ‘is this activity useful to the world or is it just self-indulgence?’ So it's nice to remind yourself that it’s good for the world, to make art. It's not necessarily that the art itself is particularly good for the world, but just the act of making is good for people's health and wellbeing and the arts in general.

It’s not surprising that people with mental health problems can benefit from engaging with the arts, but then even people with chronic pain conditions have been able to give up their medication by attending a singing class for example. It’s mind blowing really.