Edward Seago at Portland Gallery

Edward Seago, Low Tide, Strand on the Green, oil on board

When I was approached by the Portland Gallery to write a book about Edward Seago I had little idea of the adventure ahead. Having lived in Norwich for several years I was familiar with his East Anglian landscape paintings, which I associated with those of his predecessors John Sell Cotman and John Crome, but beyond that I was aware only that he had enjoyed a long friendship with HRH the Duke of Edinburgh. So not entirely a blank canvas, but close to it.

Over the following two years a portrait of Seago – Ted, as he was always known by friends – gradually took shape, and I realised that this was no ordinary artist. His education, for a start, was far from conventional, since he was confined to bed for much of his childhood by a chronic heart condition. Yet he was impetuous and determined and, having made up his mind at an early age that he could only be an artist, he asked Bertram Priestman RA for technical help and sought patronage from Lady Evelyn Jones, daughter of the 4^th Earl Grey.

Edward Seago, After the Ploughing Match, oil on canvas, 1936

With their support the nineteen year-old Seago held his first solo exhibition in London and was an overnight success, although these early paintings of horses and their riders owed rather too much to Alfred Munnings. This didn’t prevent him seeking advice from the great man, who suggested he apply to the RA schools. Instead, after only a term at Norwich School of Art, Seago went off to join a circus as a sort of artist in residence, and for the next three years travelled constantly.

As well as producing a remarkable body of paintings and drawings, Seago found inspiration for a lively autobiographical book, ‘Circus Company’, which he wrote with the help of poet laureate John Masefield. The pair went on to collaborate on several titles, including ‘The Country Scene’ – a sumptuous quarto volume filled with Masefield’s poetry and Seago’s evocative paintings – and ‘Tribute to Ballet’, at which point war intervened.

Edward Seago, Suffolk Village, oil on board

Edward Seago, A Sussex Fishing Village, watercolour

When Seago was commissioned to the Royal Engineers in the autumn of 1939 he took the opportunity provided by his first full time job to take stock of his career, which had so far perhaps given him more success than fulfilment. His first childhood sketches had been of the ever-changing sky, and he now perceived that his true vocation lay here, in the study of light and atmosphere. There would be notable achievements in portraiture, particularly two paintings of Queen Elizabeth II on horseback, but Seago otherwise devoted the second half of his life to landscape painting.

His vision was wide-ranging. Factories and building sites interested him as much as Norfolk beaches; he was inspired equally by sparkling Venetian canals and the dirty skies of a London winter. A great admirer of John Constable’s oil sketches, he painted rapidly, with expressive brushwork that he rarely attempted to conceal, and in later life worked from memory. Having trained his mind to recall the significant details of any scene, he astounded house guests with his ability to paint faraway places in his Norfolk studio. He was, as HRH the Duke of Edinburgh put it, like a conjuror pulling rabbits out of a hat. And, yes, his best work has a touch of magic.

Edward Seago, The Spritsail Barge, oil on board

An exhibition of Edward Seago's paintings, including many that have never been shown before, begins at the Portland Gallery next week. The paintings shown are all included, and each link will take you to the relevant page on the gallery's website. The text above is from the catalogue essay.

My book on Edward Seago is out now from Lund Humphries. 

The estate of Edward Seago is represented by the Portland Gallery.

Edward Seago - New Book Out in June!

It's almost two years since I was asked by the Seago estate to write the text for a book which is, first and foremost, a gallery of paintings from a remarkable life. Thanks to the hard work of staff at the Portland Gallery and the efforts of the production team at Lund Humphries, this will be a beautiful book. There is even a foreword by the Prince of Wales. Here's the blurb:

This is the definitive account of the life and work of Edward Seago (1910-1974), the highly popular, versatile and talented British painter whose work was inspired by John Sell Cotman, John Constable and Alfred Munnings.

Over two hundred colour reproductions are complemented by an engaging text which highlights important periods, episodes and acquaintances from Seago’s life and career. Full of anecdotes, sketches and quotations from the artist’s books and correspondence, the author provides a vivid impression of Seago's character which helps inform discussion of the outstanding imagery which he created.

Including important examples of works from all stages of Seago's career, this book reproduces beautiful landscapes, vibrant circus images, dramatic seascapes and paintings inspired by the artist's travels aboard. A true celebration of a powerful body of 20th-century British painting, Edward Seago will be an invaluable addition to the libraries of collectors, dealers and enthusiasts alike.

'Edward Seago' will be published by Lund Humphries in June 2014. You can pre-order at my favourite art bookshop... here. The latest LH catalogue is here.

To coincide with the publication, Portland Gallery will be holding a wide-ranging exhibition of Seago's work - more info from the gallery.

Popular Painters: Jack Vettriano & Edward Seago

Jack Vettriano, Self-Portrait (artist's copyright)

A couple of years ago I was chatting with the director of a provincial museum. This museum does not have much public funding and so has to charge admission, and he was describing the challenges of persuading people to pay the small sum asked of them. In recent times, he said, only one artist had really drawn the crowds, and that was Jack Vettriano (b.1951). As he mentioned the name he looked to see my reaction, which was not (I have to say) desperately enthusiastic. I had been to the exhibition in question and found it rather soulless. However, I could see that the show's success had been significant, both financially and in terms of increasing awareness of the museum and its architectural and artistic wonders.

Jack Vettriano is that rare creature, a painter whose activities arouse strong feelings in all kinds of people, from his famous collectors and feisty fans to the critics who are shocked and appalled by his success. His current retrospective in Glasgow has attracted some negative write-ups, while his supporters have used the 21st century soapbox of the on-line comments section to air their views.

Jack Vettriano, Along Came a Spider (artist's copyright)

To date I think the best article on him is Lynn Barber's interview from 2004, when Vettriano was in the limelight after 'The Singing Butler' achieved the highest price for a Scottish painting at auction. She was straightforward as usual. 'Anyway,' she wrote, 'the fact that there is all this exciting 'story' in the images makes it easy to ignore the deadly flatness of the technique.

'This is the answer to the question: why don't art critics take Vettriano seriously? Because there is nothing of any interest in the way he paints - Vettriano is to painting what Jeffrey Archer is to prose. Nevertheless, he is very interesting both as a person and as a phenomenon; a self-taught painter who, by depicting his own fantasies, has somehow managed to reach an audience who don't normally take any interest in art. He is also - I was pleased to discover - a very modest, articulate, friendly interviewee.'

Jack Vettriano, The Singing Butler (artist's copyright)

Whatever his weaknesses as a painter, Vettriano does what he does very well. He is so consistent that you can identify one of his pictures instantly, and he has a talent for making images that are slightly mysterious, nostalgic and glamorous (in the 1980s Helmut Newton sense). His men and women remind me of characters from old hard-boiled detective novels and thrillers, or perhaps that's the lighting. The scenes hover between eras from the 1920s to the present, without really belonging anywhere - they are fanciful rather than historical. The kinkier pictures are un-PC but, in the great scheme of things, hardly shocking. Beyond that, what is there to say? Except that struggling art museums HAVE TO attract big crowds, or they will not survive.

I find Vettriano's case intriguing partly because I've just finished writing a book about landscape painter Edward Seago (1910-74), which will be published by Lund Humphries next year. In his lifetime Seago was hugely popular, to the extent that the queues before his exhibitions were reported in the press.

Edward Seago, The Wild Beast Show, 1932 (artist's estate/Portland Gallery)

‘Queue Here for Seago’, announced the Eastern Daily Press on 22 November 1961: 'At 5 o’clock this morning, two old ladies dropped anchor outside Colnaghi’s gallery in Bond Street. By 9 o’clock, when the floodgates opened, the waiting multitude looked like a convention of Top People. Another private view of watercolours by Edward Seago, the Norfolk artist, had begun.

'Having pounced on their prey, the Seago-seekers had to stand at attention for another hour while the embargo printed in red on their invitation cards ran out: "It is regretted that no Drawings can be sold before 10am on the day of the Private View."'

Edward Seago, Winter Landscape, Norfolk , c1960 (artist's estate/Portland Gallery)

Like Vettriano, Seago was hard-working, prolific and an astute businessman - he sent out 5000 personal Christmas cards to collectors every year and exhibited all over the world. He was modest, charming, entertaining and self-centred (a not unusual quality); he was greatly loved but rather unhappy, and his behaviour was at times quite odd - researching his life and work has been fascinating.

His paintings, mostly landscapes in oils and watercolour, were immediately recognisable and often delightful. With the art world going crazy for abstraction and dour post-war introspection, art lovers looking for something enjoyable and uplifting found it in Seago, whose self-avowed mission was to record the fleeting beauties of nature. The Queen Mother and the Duke of Edinburgh were fans, even friends; the critics were not. I doubt there was an artist who outsold Seago in his pomp during the 1950s and 1960s. He handled paint with considerable skill and also wrote entertainingly, penning a number of thoughtful autobiographical books. Not all of his paintings are great, but the best of them can make you pause, look again, relax and give in to the pleasure of looking.

'Edward Seago' will be published by Lund Humphries in June 2014. His estate is represented by The Portland Gallery.

Edward Seago and St Benet's Abbey

Edward Seago, St Benet's Abbey, watercolour

Earlier this week I was in Norfolk, a county I've visited every year or so, I think for ever. As a youngster I remember sitting in lengthy traffic jams on the A47 to Swaffham and this time I spent a long time staring at Thetford Forest as roadbuilding machines came and went. Once the work is finished we'll have dual carriageway all the way from London to Norwich, and then where will we be?

Anyway, I was there partly to visit the painting grounds of Edward Seago, a 20th century British landscape painter who is best known for his association with the Royal family. I'm writing the text for a new book which I hope will both communicate something of Seago's fascinating character and remarkable life, and show the range and beauty of his work.

Edward Seago, St Benet's Marsh, Evening Haze, oil 

An admirer of Constable and Cotman at a time when Picasso and Matisse set the fashion, the maverick traditionalist was never able to convince the RA of his worth, but his best work stays in the mind. He was a skilful oil painter who knew all the tricks of the trade, and a brilliant watercolourist.

John Sell Cotman, St Benet's Abbey

Born in Norwich and raised in the countryside south of the city, Seago travelled widely but lived for the last twenty-five years of his life in Ludham, a village in the Broads but not on a Broad - and so relatively undeveloped. Naturally he painted a great deal in the vicinity, particularly on St Benet's Marsh, an expanse of farmland bordering the River Bure and surrounding the distinctive ruin of St Benet's Abbey.

John Sell Cotman, St Benet's Abbey, oil

This is actually two ruins in one, the first being a medieval monastery and the second an 18th century windmill that incorporates part of the abbey walls. John Sell Cotman drew and painted the site when the windmill was in use, and Seago did the same after its abandonment.

Edward Seago, St Benet's Abbey, oil

Today a programme is underway to improve access to the site, which is still visited by the Bishop of Norwich every year (he travels, fittingly, by wherry). The cattle are the same white or brown animals Seago painted, and the willows and wildflowers and much the same too.

Red sails and white still seem to sail across the fields although, as you approach the river, you see the extraordinary array of craft, from canoes to pleasure cruisers, that ply the Broads today.

Inside, I found lots of names and dates carved into the soft stonework. I suppose these must now be part of the fabric of the Ancient Monument and are, as such, protected from harm.

Edward Seago's paintings remain the copyright of his estate, which is represented by The Portland Gallery.