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Martin Sharp: Australian Pop Art icon
by:
Annette Falconer
Martin Sharp's 1920s Sydney home studio Wirian, houses an intimate museum reflecting his life and history. Few artists have made an impact on Sydney like Martin Sharp has. Not only is Sharp an iconic Australian Pop artist, but he has involved himself in the artistic life of Sydney. A curious Nepalese shiatsu terrier cross puppy greets me at the door followed by Sharp who emerges clad in a navy and white striped Rugby top and trousers. Past a white porcelain laughing Buddha figure, a vintage dormouse from Harrods and numerous other relics is the dining room. The dimly lit dining room, transformed into a studio space, reveals a museum of curiosities. Layers of art and heirlooms passed from generation to generation hypnotise the eye. In the centre, a desk is covered with paints, brushes, pens, experimental paper silhouettes, sketches and notes. The walls are adorned with an eclectic mix of family photographs, Victorian portraits, early twentieth-century Australian political cartoons, tapestries, modernist Australian paintings and Sharps own paintings and posters. Notes, postcards from chef Kylie Kwong and recent art exhibition invitations are stuck on the walls. A Mickey Mouse telephone, an antique bookcase stacked with books, a record player and a four-poster bed complete the lived-in setting. His interest in Pop Art was fostered through his family. It all began in this house, my maternal grandparents house. They loved cartoons; Boofhead was one of their favourite comic strips. My grandmother cut out the strips from the newspaper and sewed them together, binding them into little books. The room, like the rest of the home, is in its original condition. A sense of colour and spirit conjures up images from family gatherings in the 1930s to Bohemian parties in the 70s. A menagerie of animals inhabit the room: an eighteen-year-old, matriarchal cat reclines near a heater, aggravated by the two younger dogs playing. An outsider in love with outsiders, this is Martin Sharpￕs homea refuge for collections of history and art. As a girl, Sharps mother made collages out of interior design magazines, creating two-dimensional dolls houses. She was a collage artist and encouraged me not to be inhibited in cutting up magazines as a child for school projects. She gave me access to scissors, glue and an authority to cut out images, Sharp explains. The family tradition is evident in Sharps 1972 Art Book produced in London. Now a collectors item, the volume incorporates 36 colour collages cut from the pages of art books, bringing together overlaid images by artists such as Magritte, van Gogh, Matisse, Botticelli and Vermeer. Sharp is something of an enigma, warm and engaging but with a dark sense of humour. He was educated at the National Art School, and cut his teeth as illustrator for the Australian Oz magazine in 1963. The popularity of Oz with its lampooning, social satire and subsequent casualties in censorship wars, secured Sharp a following. It resulted in a solo exhibition of psychedelic collages and Op Art at the Clune Galleries in Sydney in 1965, Art for Marts sake. Sharp arrived in swinging London in 1966, London then as now was a magnet for artists, writers and musicians. Here his career really took off and in these his wildest years, he associated with some of the most influential creative forces of his day. London was a wonderful place. After the war, pop culture dominated. It was a great time with the booming art schools, the Beatles, the Stones, the whole music scene. It proved to be a pivotal point in his artistic career. Sharp met musician Eric Clapton in a night club. He wrote some lyrics on a napkin and passed it to Clapton. The resulting song, Tales of Brave Ulysses, was recorded on the album Disraeli Gears by the band Cream. Martin designed the cover of that album and then went on to design a further cover for Cream as well as a posters of the musicians Bob Dylan and Jimmy Hendrix. When Richard Neville established the controversial London Oz magazine, Sharp became the art director. During this period, Sharp lived in the Pheasantry on the Kings Road, Chelsea. He shared this historic building with Germaine Greer, Eric Clapton and the film-maker Philippe Mora. Clapton guided Sharp to Tiny Tims music. In 1969 Sharp attended a Tiny Tim concert at the Royal Albert Halls life-altering experience. Tiny Tim (1932-1996) has since been a perennial source of creativity and inspiration. Tiny Tim had a hundred voices ranging from falsetto to basso profundo. Tiny was a collector of songs, I have been collecting his songs or interpretations of those songs; the collecting is a creative process. The collaboration resulted in Sharp producing and designing Tiny Tims record covers and painting, designing and illustrating serial portraits and images of the singer. Sharp hauls out of the antique bookcase a 1919 book entitled Cinderella, illustrated by Arthur Rackham (1869-1939). The book belonged to Sharps mother and is illustrated with exquisite silhouettes. Sharp points out a ballroom scene and there on the page is a silhouetted figure with a striking resemblance to Tiny Tim. This book has been here for years; looking through it one day I found the resemblance. I noticed it by chance. It was a strange synchronicity.
His parents introduced Martin to the art of van Gogh. A faded green van Gogh print of Road to Tarascon, now hanging on his studio wall, originally hung in his fathers surgery. The original painting was destroyed in World War II. Van Gogh was always present in his childhood and has been a major influence. Sharp has referenced van Gogh in paintings and prints, sourcing his literary ideas and letters in art projects. The Yellow House which opened in Kings Cross, Sydney in 1971 was inspired by a dream of Vincent van Gogh, who had mentioned it in a letter to his brother Theo. Van Gogh envisaged setting up his house in Arles as a centre for artists to live, work and exhibit; he wished to start a community of artists in the south in the sunshine. Vincent was joined by Paul Gaugin for nine turbulent weeks from October to December 1888. By the time Sydneys Yellow House was established in May 1971, conceptual art had emerged, and novel combinations of music, theatre, film, slides, light shows total environment installations were a reality. The opening attracted considerable media attention. Sydneys Sunday Mirror called it the wildest, most way out happening of the week, and commented that the guests wore really wild gear, and many looked as though they had come from a performance of the musical Hair, which had opened a few weeks earlier at the nearby Metro Theatre. The rooms were transformed into a range of environments, many reflecting the influence of the Surrealists. A lot of people came and we exhibited different rooms. There was a cafe and a one dollar admission at the door. During the 1970s Sharp engaged with the Nimrod Theatre and produced a series of Nimrod posters promoting their shows. Then, in 1973, Sharp was contracted to restore the nostalgic face for Luna Park, the funfair under Sydney Harbour Bridge. He put mirrors in the eyes and painted the Ha, Ha, on the face at the entrance, while also working on Coney Island, the dodgem cars and the roller coaster. I got the job through my background in Pop Art. It was amazing painting a physical landscape. I fell in love with the place, the charm and working with Peter Kingston who exhibited at the Yellow House. Luna Park has a dark history. An inferno ripped through the heart of the ghost train in 1979, killing six children and one adult. Sharp was one of many people who believed the fire was lit deliberately to obtain the prime real estate. It is a painful subject he doesnt want to discuss. He formed the Friends of Luna Park to remind people and the NSW government of what they stood to lose. Luna Park has re-opened and Sharp should be pleased that it is also a regular venue for alternative musicians and rock concerts. As a schoolboy he was inspired by the evangelist Arthur Stace (1885-1967) who chalked the word Eternity on inner city pavements from the 1930s to 1967. The word Eternity has re-surfaced in Sharps prints, paintings and tapestries. Staces humble artwork resonated, when his word Eternity was illuminated on the Sydney Harbour Bridge in the new millennium fireworks display. Martin Sharp values collecting alongside literature, art and philosophy. His collections have many family associations. As a child, Sharp remembers his mothers cabinet of curiosities full of figurines and objects. Mum had a very good eye and formed my desire to collect. I found a French glass Mickey Mouse. This struck a chord and grew into my first collection of novelty characters. Another room in Sharps home is devoted to a museum of dreams. Its almost a private toy museum full of Ginger Meggs memorabilia, Mickey Mouse figures, Felix the Cat figures, tins, money-boxes, golliwogs, Chinese dolls, model ships, kewpie dolls, Bambis in bell jars and Popeye figures. Turning to work in progress, Sharp talks of other influences, including Japanese kabuki theatre and the Japanese woodblock. A vibrant portrait of the actor David Gulpilil with typical pop blues, reds and yellows stands opposite another work, a large panel painted in tribute to the Japanese artist Hokusai. Years ago, Sharp bought a woodblock print in Paris, possibly by a follower of Hokusai, but now lost. Sharp is translating the woodblock into a painted panel. While altered in scale, it is close to the original: a Japanese woman swims from the depths to the surface of the ocean with an abalone shell. These days Sharps paintings take far longer to complete, allowing contemplation and the space to explore technique, ideas, imagination and dreams.
Martin Sharps work features in the exhibition Sixties Graphics at the V&A in London on show until 12 November 2006. |
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