Those paintings links in full

This week, during our trip to the US, we visited Mum and Audrey's cousin, Ida Greene (Bunty) who married and went to live in America in 1946. When she showed us around her house, a painting on her bedroom wall immediately jumped out at me. It was a very recognisable 'AJA'. Because Bunty was initially homesick, Audrey gave her several pictures to remind her of home. I forgot to photograph that one, but here is a picture of (I think) Auntie Audrey from the 1940s.




Every time I spend some time with Kate in London, we make more progress with the artworks, as described in the other posts. When I tell people the story, they want to see the pics and it's a bit of a mission to copy all of the links. So here they are in one place:



First set of photos of the house (Oct 2013)

Samples from the 50 000 sketches (Jan 2014)
Video of same at the bottom of the page.

Some framed pictures (June 2014)

More framed pictures (June 2014)

Video of a selection of AJA's paintings

Seeing in a different light

On the table is a red and white checkered cloth. There is a distinctive teapot with three broad blue stripes on it. I can also see a pot of marmalade. Out of the window, behind the table, people lounge on the grass in a park.

Then I realise that there is another painting of the same tablecloth, and now I see that it covers the same table by the window.

The same window, the same balcony railings, the same street lamp, the same park. Using these clues, we gather together ten paintings and sketches of this room with a view. On the back of the largest painting, the size of half a door: "Norland Square". 

There's one picture with a view down the street and you can see from the railings that it's the same place.

I drive round Norland Square, London W11 on Google Street View until I see the houses I recognise from one of the paintings. The pictures are always so true to reality, there is no doubt it is the right spot.

I turn around, line up the street lamp and identify the window above the green door. Same frame, same railings. This is the house.

Viewing paintings in the garden

This was my third visit to London in the last year on Auntie Audrey business. As ever, we have crossed the gain line. Kate and I went to 94 to see how the building is progressing. I have known this house my whole life, and in one way it is the same place: it'll always be Nana's house which we stayed in as kids. But it is also transformed. The same rooms I always knew, but stripped and all painted white. Kate has done a lot of work with the builders, and now they are carrying out the plan, creating a flat for rent. Last time I was here, it was still the dank dark rooms where Audrey lived more than half her life, and where she died. Now the light of the outside world has flooded in and the darkness, real and imagined, has flown.

On Saturday, I looked at the oil paintings which are still stored in Kate and Nige's garden cabin. Like the last time I spent with AJA's art, it comes to life in the daylight. Between rain showers, I took photos of the 40 or 50 framed works which mostly originate from the time just after she studied at the RA. I looked at them several times the next day and got to know the paintings which in my mind placed themselves in distinct groups of green landscapes; models in studios; rooms in varieties of light. Sunday was a dry day and Kate, Nige and I spent a peaceful time in the sunlight at the bottom of the garden with the oil paintings, getting to know them and talking about our little discoveries in them. It was during this time that I made the connection between all of the pictures which had been painted of Norland Square where Audrey and Nana lived with Mrs Diffy before they bought the house in Clapham.

On Monday, Kate and I did some good business in relation to the 94 project. We commuted all the way out to Watford where Kate's long-time solicitor, Jeremy, has his office. In a very informative hour, we learned that the lease was drawn up in the early sixties before many lawyers knew much about this type of contract. According to Jeremy, we need to get the lease's many shortcomings superseded by a deed of variation to avoid future problems. He also said that we should probably accept the other owners' invitation to join them as freeholders, but that there are a few issues that they should sort out first, and there is no reason we should pay any money for it. If they fix the issues, we will then be able, with them, to set up a simple company for the four freeholders. Something like that.

From Watford, we trained back to Euston which was very convenient for the next appointment at the Wellcome Institute as well as my subsequent Eurostar train back to the mainland. At the Wellcome, we met Emma and Amanda, whom Kate already knew, to talk about our gift to them of Audrey's art and writings. We sat down in the new bright and airy building and they explained that the boxes of scrapbooks and ledgers from 94 have already been moved to the Deep Store in an old mine in Cheshire where they await recall to London for archiving. One scrapbook has stayed behind, though, and is being shown to art students who like its 'outsider art' food packaging collages. We signed the forms of the gift which hand over the works and books, but leave us with the copyright. I wanted to get a picture from them of what we are getting into; what they saw in the collection; and who might be interested in the collection. They said it was a very interesting group of artefacts which tell a story with medical connotations about an individual life. We talked about the phases and development of the art, how it can be seen to represent a single psyche. There are several ways that the Wellcome Foundation will put the word out about it through their newsletters and website; Amanda and Emma say it's likely there will be interest in the collection. As Kate said, we already get a fine feeling just from the idea that someone has been appreciating the single scrapbook.

We have arranged that the Wellcomes come round and pick up the boxes of sketchbooks and diaries. That will leave the framed paintings which we want to spend a little more time with before handing it over. Emma and Amanda know that we'll be selecting a small group of pictures to keep for ourselves to remember Auntie Audrey by and because they are beautiful.

Fifty thousand sketches

Kate and I went to 94 Clarence Avenue again on 3 January 2014, two months after our previous visit. Last time, we went through the daily diaries and bagged a lot of rubbish. This time was about the artworks.
We had decided to collect everything and take it away to Kate's house. This felt like it would allow us to look at the work away from the oppressive atmosphere of the flat. Though we spent hours there last time, I realised now that I couldn't wait to get away, to the extent of suggesting we take the stuff in two loads even though we eventually managed to fit it all in the back of the car in one trip. When we got back to Kate's, we took all of the boxes and bags and piles to the back of the garden and put them in the new cabin office.

Then we had to decide what to do with everything we had collected. We now know there are about 1000 full sketchbooks, so if the average number of pages is 50, there are 50 thousand sketches.

There were also stacks of framed pictures and many brown paper packages fastened with string that contained even more. We unparcelled these and separated the sketchbooks from the framed pictures and decided to start with the books. Kate (assisted by Mattie a lot of the time) flipped through every book and I alternated between looking in books and taking selected pages outside to photograph in the daylight.

The sketchbooks are generally thematic. Some are packed with sketches made in the street; others show just objects around the house. Many of the books are full of life drawings which, as far as we can guess, were drawn from real models. There are so many of the pictures which so accurately capture the human figure, I can only imagine that Auntie Audrey attended life classes. She also repeats the same pose, which you would do if you were drawing from life. In fact, I'm not sure she ever drew or painted something which wasn't in front of her. Almost all of the pictures are signed AJA.

Most of the models are female; occasionally there is a man. We know that Auntie Audrey worked very fast; in one session she could easily draw 20 or 30 figures. Inevitably there are failures, but so many times one is enchanted by a single line which represents a whole limb in a familiar attitude. Sometimes the sketches are coloured, though rarely within the lines. As you immerse yourself in the world of AJA, you find that even the hastiest scribbles can be beautiful.

There are other types of pictures which are done very rapidly, and in the field, as it were. She went out on expeditions around London: to Regents Park Zoo; Kew Gardens; the West End; the local park; or she stayed at home and painted what was in her garden. The subject matter is traditional mostly: people or plants, animals in the zoo or cars in the street. Usually you can see what is in the picture but if not, the subject and date are punctiliously recorded.

For the photo collection, I deliberately selected without a system, relying on instantaneous feelings on the assumption that this would give a flavour of the whole. Mattie and Kate gave me pictures they liked and I added my own. In my mind, there are two categories in the sketchbooks: drawings (whether plain or coloured in) and paintings, usually watercolours. As it happens, though we like them all, I think Kate and I are most moved by opposite types; she likes the sketches and I prefer the paintings. The result, though is a mix of the two.


And now we are finished going through the sketchbooks. I felt that looking at each one, sometimes in depth and sometimes just flipping the pages, somehow respected the work and would allow us to move on to a next stage. But what exactly should the next stage be? Having reduced the 1000 books to 100 and with the promise on a later occasion of cutting down the more manageable 100 to what? 20? 50? Suddenly I'm not so sure. Kate and I talked about discarding the 90% we 'rejected' (not necessarily because we didn't like the pictures, just as a way to cope with the volume). There has been talk of making postcards or holding an exhibition. I'm sure there isn't one right answer, as such; there are lots of ways we could go. For the moment, we are going to let some time pass, ask some opinions and then decide. Below is a selection of paintings.

Last time, we read many of her diaries and sketchbooks which often revealed shocking delusions about the world around Auntie Audrey. Though the sketches reveal different states of mind, by their obvious breakneck speeds of execution, or shaky signatures, I feel there is nothing in the art which refers to things that aren't there. However misleading Audrey's perceptions of the world around her, AJA's pictures always reflect it honestly.

Starting the Auntie Audrey Archive

Steve writes: Kate and I went to Auntie Audrey's house on 30 and 31 October 2013 a few months after she died in July. Kate had already been there a couple of times, but it was my first time. The house was dirty in some ways, but it had been abandoned for a while and there were no dirty plates, just old food in the cupboards.

When you read her logs, record books and scrapbooks, you realise that Auntie Audrey was exclusively concerned with a limited number of events in her day. Yet once you start to list them, you see that even an obsessive life has a large number of constants.

She notes the minute she wakes up, which is usually around 6 am, and then describes how she slept - in the later entries, this is rarely good. She normally comments that it is the 8th day, (this we have not been able to explain). She usually takes a Bath (with a capital letter) and then decides whether to go out shopping or not. This depends on whether supplies are sufficient to get her through the day. If she is at home, her activities are writing, letters or recording her life. We found three, maybe four calendars for 2013 in which the same daily information is recorded, down to the last letter. There are also uncracked number codes written around the edge, again identical on each copy.

There are four types of book which are helpfully labelled on the front cover Accounts Book, Log Book (which is a diary), Record Book (daily itemisation of copious correspondence) and Scrapbook along with her name: ‘AJ Amiss (Miss)’. From the 1990s, we have followed the evolution of the recording system, through undifferentiated scrapbooks to the later separate records which continue until 10 July 2013.

The date format evolved until it always recorded a range of between 2 and 4 days, for example, 6/7/8 July 2013, normally with the actual date underlined. I saw the same type of date recorded in my last birthday card from Auntie Audrey which I received after she died. That card was listed in the final Record Book in which she records all of the letters she sends, their contents paraphrased, and the exact details of the envelopes and stamps. This goes back years. I was surprised that relatively few of the letters she must have received in reply seem to have been kept.

The scrapbooks over the years contained photo prints (frequently 100s from a visit to Regents Park Zoo); news clippings; ads (she went through car dealer and estate agent phases); letters; receipts and found objects (a cigarette butt discovered under a chair in 1999). In the last few years, the scrapbooks specialised in packaging from food Auntie Audrey had bought and eaten (the receipts recorded separately in the Accounts Books). She arranged the pages meticulously, always with attention to the aesthetic design, in particular the Scrapbooks of packaging. The designs were annotated with comments such as ‘Intense Colour’ or references to artworks or similar names they reminded her of. Here, the comments would continue with streams of word association linking celebrities, artists, politicians, people she knew from the distant past in Sunderland and ideas and concepts with reminiscent names.

Many of her speculations sought to explain apparent coincidences and linked people and events in a stream of consciousness (Robert Louis Stevenson - Adlai Stephenson - Steve Davis - a whole stream of Davises, and finally a Davis she knew whom she suspected of organising a drugs ring). She spoke often of ‘a breakthrough’ when she suddenly identified an aspect of the ‘conspiracy’ - she used that word. In a photo of two TV actors, she identified one as an entirely different celebrity and the other one as a woman from her youth. This seemed to confirm a hidden truth she already knew about.

She had other preoccupations concerning her illness and how she had been treated, often talking about her medication and how it had been preceded in the late fifties by electric shocks. She seemed to be concerned about both over- and under-medication and blamed specific individuals, and the police in general, for her mistreatment. She collected numerous newspaper articles about cases she saw as related. A lot of her correspondence went to groups who support mental patients’ rights; she wrote unceasingly on the same topics to MPs, local politicians, friends, newspapers. Her Record Book noted the number of pages in each of these letters (eight seems to have been about average), and there were several each day, all described at length.