In Conversation: Gary Bunt
Gary Bunt is one of Britain’s most praised and respected artists working today. Born in 1957 in East Peckham, he worked as a builder before following his aspirations as a professional guitarist. After struggling with alcohol abuse and vocal cord cancer, he made a pivotal decision to turn art into a full-time occupation. In fact, Bunt believes that cancer was God’s will for him, not a punishment. Besides showcasing quintessential English life in rural villages and fishing towns, wrapped in observational realism, Bunt’s artworks serve as a constant reminder of the magic of the ordinary, something that the modern, fast-paced world is lacking right now. His paintings are accompanied by short verses and feature two recurring characters, a man, Bert, and his dog, the commentator, from whose perspective the poems are recited. While Bunt’s musical ambitions are certainly left in the past, the poetry in his paintings acts as an amplifier to an electric guitar, ultimately making him particularly successful at what every guitarist seeks to achieve, which is producing an expressive and distinctive tone.
KELLY KORZUN: In the past, you had quite a career as a professional guitarist, which eventually resulted in a pretty self-destructive lifestyle. How would you describe the person you were back then? What were the key influences that have impacted your ambitions as a musician?
GARY BUNT: My music taste has definitely changed. Today, I’m listening to the music my mother listened to as I was growing up, which is mostly classical music and the oldies such as Dean Martin, Tony Bennett, and Connie Francis. But in my 20s, I practiced for hours on end to become a good guitarist, being mostly influenced by the likes of Hendrix, Thin Lizzy, Doobie Brothers and Genesis, among many others. I went on to play with various bands, and I truly enjoyed songwriting with The Alice Banned, my longest stint with one group. Eventually, I developed a taste for the good life of which alcohol and drugs played a big part; drugs being more recreational, but the alcohol became an addiction. As a young man, I loved this carefree alcohol-fueled existence for many years. In the early 80s, I got married, had a son Henry, but, unfortunately, the marriage didn’t last. Meeting my wife Lynn who I have been married to for 34 years made me realize I had to put this excessive lifestyle to an end, so I decided to get out of music and went back building. I stopped doing drugs, but I still liked a drink, which I got under control to a certain extent. I turned back to my love of poetry, literature, and painting. I loved the Liverpool poets such as Roger McGough, Adrian Henri, Brian Patten, and the humor of Spike Milligan. Virginia Woolf, Thomas Hardy, Laurie Lee and Alan Bennett were my favorites at the time. I also started painting local landscapes and townscapes in watercolor, and finally set about making a career in art, again supported financially by construction work. In 1994, our daughter Georgia was born – this was when I knew the alcohol had to stop, and I’ve been totally clean of anything for 26 years.
Heading home across the fields, the mist hangs in the air, we’ve been to the church, at the end of the lane, to say our morning prayer – The Church Down The Lane, Gary Bunt
KK: When reflecting on your battle with cancer, you said that it gave you the freedom to break the mold and rediscover your love for painting, which you always loved, along with poetry and playing music. Did you initially pick music because you felt it was more popular among your peers? Looking back, what do you think stopped you from pursuing your aspirations in art and poetry?
GB: I was about 14 years old when Duncan Fielder, a new classmate, bought an electric guitar into school, and I was completely hooked from that moment. I went home and pleaded with my dad to buy me one – money was tight in those days, but in the end I wore him down and he gave in. With a new guitar, I got Bert Weedon’s Play in a Day book and set about teaching myself to play. A year later, I joined my first band at school, playing mostly Beatles, Bob Dylan, and Neil Young. At school, I was very keen on music, art and literature, but, unfortunately, further education was not really a thing within the family history as we were a happy working class family. Once I got out of school, it was time for me to get a job, so it was really the financial implications that stopped me from pursuing my aspirations in art and literature. Playing guitar was something I could teach myself and be in control of my own destiny, while supplementing an income with the construction trade since my father and uncles were all builders.
The sound of the sea, my dog next to me, there's nothing more that I need, life seems complete, with the weight off my feet, and a Penguin classic to read – A Classic, Gary Bunt
KK: When I first came across your work, in spite of its naive style and seeming simplicity, the thing that immediately stood out to me was all the pain and loneliness coming through your paintings, contradictorily mixed with hope, joy of living, and humor. I doubt there’s such a thing as pain-free painting, even the word itself starts with pain, but once you put pain in its place so that it serves a purpose, it becomes a very powerful tool. When undergoing chemotherapy, you got involved in art & writing workshops, which helped you immensely in your recovery process. What did you take away from your experience helping other cancer patients? Besides painting, what other things did you turn to for therapeutic reasons?
GB: Despite enjoying my time working with other cancer patients and having some rewarding experience, I found myself becoming too emotionally involved with some of them, especially when doing art classes at the Hospice. When people I cared about passed away, I would dwell on my own cancer journey again. One of the oncology specialists advised me to move on and forget about cancer. Painting and prayer became my therapy.
KK: In the past, religion regulated society’s behavior, and a lot of it is still based on fear and authority. I’m not particularly religious, but the way you portray God as a closest friend, a reliable companion, someone who stands by you even in the darkest moments, makes it more relatable. Have you always seen your relationship with God this way, or was it something that evolved over time?
GB: I have never bought into the westernized, organized religion of fear and authority; I am a follower of Christ’s teachings, not men’s interpretations of them. As long as I can remember, I have always found peace in God, and I find a great deal of peace in trying to live in the way of Christ – it’s a challenge, yet enjoyable, and a roller coaster ride of sometimes feeling really close to God and other times feeling quite distant, but it’s all part of the journey. Christ doesn't suffer fools gladly, but he knows what’s in one's heart and God knows I am trying.
Life it has its ups and downs, sometimes it seems unfair, and in these times of trouble, we each have our cross to bear – Take Up Your Cross, Gary Bunt
KK: You have no formal art training, yet you’ve managed to arrive at a very distinctive style, which is ultimately a fusion of English school painters’ body of work you’ve meticulously studied on your own – Christopher Wood, Cedric Morris, Eric Ravilious, just to name a few. In your 2016 show By The Grace of God at Portland Gallery in London, you reinterpreted Biblical scenes by setting them within the context of contemporary British society. Was that concept inspired by one of your influences, Stanley Spencer, and his depiction of Biblical scenes, or your intent was simply to make the images more approachable for the audience?
GB: My Christian paintings are aimed at making God and Christ more approachable, and possibly get people to revisit a lost faith brought on by the threat of internal damnation that the Church seems to favor. There are so many false teachers out there, so I am trying to turn people back to the Gospels to find out the truth for themselves; it is there.
KK: A lot of your inspiration comes from your childhood memories as well as diverse characters from the places you grew up in and still live and work today, so most of your works are set in the countryside. Have you ever thought about placing an old man and his faithful dog in the urban setting or other parts of the world, say, for humor’s sake?
GB: The old man and his dog seem to resonate with the viewer because he becomes their father, grandfather, someone they are familiar with. I think it’s important to paint what you know, so I tend to paint him in places I am familiar with, staying within the bounds of the UK.
It’ s a matter of pride, so in the barrow I ride, when we go to the shed to fetch logs, because my bits start to glow, in the cold deep wet snow, it’s a problem for us short legged dogs – A Matter Of Pride, Gary Bunt
KK: When we talked earlier, you said that you don’t like talking about yourself and find it strange; you never wanted to have books published and often perceive publicity as self-indulgence. Being a self-taught artist, do you ever experience impostor syndrome, or would you say this humility rather comes from your introversive personality?
GB: I have never experienced impostor syndrome as I don't really see a great difference between formal training and teaching oneself. I know artists who have had formal training, we studied the same artists, read the same books, and technique develops regardless. In the end, you are on your own as a painter, making your own marks, and nobody can teach you that except yourself. My humility comes from the fact that I’m not saving lives like the surgeon who saved mine – I just paint pictures that people happen to love.
KK: Looking at your work, it seems to me that you pay a lot of attention to the texture. In your younger days, you’ve experimented with watercolors, but now your preferred medium is oil paint, I assume this is due to its versatility and ability to apply many layers to achieve desired thickness. To add more texture, you tried using wooden panels instead of canvas for your religious paintings, then you went even further and worked with bronze. Are there any other other mediums or even art forms you’d like to branch out to?
GB: After experimenting with wooden panels, I still prefer the feel of a canvas as I like working on the surface texture of a painting, using a combination of thick paint and glazes. Occasionally, I do ceramics and have recently been experimenting with stained glass, depicting my Christian work.
Now that we’ re old, we both feel the cold, when this weather blows in from the west, my fur keeps me warm, when its blowing a storm, he wears his long johns and vest – Westie Wind, Gary Bunt
KK: When I lived close to the Chicago Art Institute, I used to come there to glance at Chagall’s America Windows, a gift he presented to the museum in 1977, being impressed by the city’s enthusiasm for art. I believe there’s 86 windows total he executed across Europe, Israel, and the United States, including 12 windows installed at All Saints’ Church you regularly visit to sit and have some quiet time, the only church in the world that has all its windows in stained glass designed by Chagall. What other European artists do you find inspiring? Considering your extensive knowledge in art history, what’s your take on contemporary art? Is it something that interests you at all?
GB: I love the stained glass work of John Piper and Chagall, the texture of Van Gogh, Les Nabis movement, the bold use of color by Bonnard, Gaugin, and the interiors of Vuillard. I am not such a lover of contemporary art, although there are a few painters I admire. Maggi Hambling has always fascinated me both as a person and artist. There’s something about Tracey Emin’s work that I relate to, and I think my favorite would be Billy Childish, an early boyfriend of Tracey Emin; he says what he thinks, does what he does, nothing more nothing less, and I can really relate to that honesty.
Through the old church windows, the candles welcome glow, along the street go paws and feet, through freshly fallen snow – Sunday Service, Gary Bunt
KK: You painted yourself as an old man thinking you wouldn’t survive till old age, and that same fear has prompted you to start writing little poems on the back of your paintings for family members and your children, which later became a part of your signature style. What’s interesting is that, in a way, you’ve subconsciously used the power of visualization: the more vividly we can picture something, the more real it feels and eventually becomes, and I think it’s one of the reasons you’re luckily still here today. As we’re approaching Thanksgiving, what are you thankful for in 2020?
GB: Today, I am blessed to still be here, and if my illness taught me one thing, it’s to be grateful for every day of waking up. In these strange times, I am fortunate to be in the position I’m in, but I feel for the people who are struggling. I’m waiting to see if people still want my work in my next show in November. Time will tell.
Links: Portland Gallery | Instagram
