CONCRETE caught up with Fleur Yearsley – the Manchester-based artist giving David Hockney a run for his money. We met at her Salford studio space in Paradise Works to sit down and talk about her expansive compositions…
Installation shot of Coming Up, 2022, property of Fleur Yearsley.
I: how would you explain what you do to a person on the street?
Y: I make really big paintings. *laughs*
I: What does your work look like to you?
Y: The work is very direct. There’s humour and vibrant simplicity to it, but there are always further layers the more you look at it.
I: Why do you think that is?
Y: I’m a very social person. I talk to everyone. I am fascinated to hear people’s stories; what they’ve been through, and their perspectives of the world. I hope the paintings I make resonate with people who wouldn’t necessarily usually look at art or go to a gallery, by being approachable and relatable.
I: Yeah, they’re instantly visually appealing which makes them more accessible. What’s your process?
Y: I work from personal memory which takes the imagery of 90s Britain and pop culture references to create an effect I describe as sweet and sour. The oil paint is vivid and vibrant, but as you stay with the painting for longer, you notice more. There are dichotomies in the work, playfulness as well as melancholy. My work is about escapism – especially with the greyness of British weather. My new space, at Paradise Works, has much more light and that really affects my work. I moved for more daylight. My new studio has a real sense of community, with a gallery and a space to come together, but you can also focus there and shut everything away to get on with it.
Installation shot of Coming Up.
I: You studied at Slade in London. How did that change your practice?
Y: The first year was about blowing apart my practice, finding what was important, and building from there. This meant looking at more artists and listening to critique theory – that was the biggest thing for me. I think I had tunnel vision and was too comfortable in my practice. *laughs* When I was in London, there was so much to take in. Living in Manchester, we only have a couple of big museums. There is always something to see and engage with, it was so exciting. As a painting group we used to take trips to galleries together and sit and talk about one painting for hours. These conversations were most formative – how to truly look, verbalise and listen. London is fucking expensive, though. *laughs*
I: What art feels important to you?
Y: I have a grounding in Abstract Expressionism. At university it was a massive inspiration for me. The boldness, energy and contrast of colours; how they sing, or how they fight one another as well; the large scale of Abstract Expressionist paintings – that definitely had a massive effect on my work, they’re immersive; and my larger paintings envelop you, it’s no longer something you’re looking at, it’s something you become a part of. I want them to incite something within you. That’s what I try and do with the memories I paint, they’re playful and personal but I’m trying to find a commonality. We’ve got a lot more in common than we think.
Just Do It, Fleur Yearsley, 2021.
I: Who’s really got your interest at the minute?
Y: Allison Katz, Jana Euler, Louise Giovanelli, who used to have this studio I’m now working in. I saw one of her paintings at Frieze, there’s such a sensitivity to capturing light and different materialities… I also really like Issy Wood. All female artists if you’ve noticed. *laughs*
I: Who influences your work the most?
Y: There’s not specifically one person or thing. Contemporary art work, Renaissance paintings, Classical paintings. Cartoons, films, music, everyday life. I love Vermeer. He’s one of my favourite painters of all time. His ability to depict intimate moments with empathy and attention to detail is astounding. I went to the Uffizi Gallery last year and saw the Botticelli paintings they have, Primavera and The Birth of Venus. My mum told me before I went that there is a spot in the room where you can stand and see both at the same time although they’re in different rooms. I liked that they aren’t next to each other, they have their own space. Venus is iconic, and it’s been reworked so many times in merchandise and in pop culture, but it’s iconic for a reason. I was more drawn to Primavera. The figures’ faces are so contemporary, you see these people on the street, they feel familiar and personable. They’re still so fresh and dynamic and his attention to detail with every subject in the painting down to the flowers is overwhelming.
I: You don’t say Hockney?
Y: That’s a given. *laughs* If I was gonna steal a painting, I’d steal A Bigger Splash. I saw it at Tate Britain for the first time when I was at Slade and I wanted to dive in.
I:What’s painting like in 2022?
Y: There remains so much to still discover about painting. It’s thousands of years old, and it’s still exciting. I hate when people say ‘painting has come back in’. *laughs* It’s more alive, perhaps, but it never went away.
Installation shot of Coming Up.
I: How did your latest show, Coming Up, at the Ruslan Faraev Institute of Art go?
Y: It went really well. Ruslan, it’s industrial, there’s a harshness to the space. It’s refreshing to take the work out of the white cube space and break down the hiearchy. It feels different. I organised a show last year called Anything Goes at the Manchester gig space, Aatma. I wanted to celebrate the dance and club culture my work draws on and that places like Aatma could open again after lockdown. I was creating a place of solace for people to come together.
I: I loved Ruslan, and the location sort of added to it. What’s to be gained by showing work in more unexpected places?
Y: A big part of making the work is for it to be seen and shared. Otherwise – who’s it for? I’ve curated and exhibited shows with other artists collaboratively. Me and my friend, Dorus Tossijn, put on a show at Sett, a studio and project space in London that’s in an old Mothercare in Lewisham. We paired the work together in a metaphoric battle. When you have two artists in a group show, how can you not compare and think, ‘which is my favourite?’, a bit like a wrestling match. We wanted to make that as blatant as possible and to have fun with it. The scale of the large and small works next to each other – and with their subject matter – gave the show an accessibility through the starkness of the contrast between the works’ size as well as their playfulness and humour. We also served vodka from a watermelon as well that featured in both our works. *laughs” What’s an opening without a few drinks?
I: Do you prefer an industrial space to a white cube?
Y: I’m interested in showing in a diverse range of spaces. I showed work last year in a new gallery called Sapling which Charlotte Call set up in Mayfair. It used to be a very pink plush shop and Charlotte completely transformed the space into a beautiful gallery and involved the nature of the Mews it’s situated on into the space and the light.
I: Do you feel decompressed after the show?
Y: Yeah I’m decompressed. Now, what’s the next thing?
Unfinished Gameboy work and Too Little Too Late, in Yearsley’s studio, 2022.
I: What are you working on at the minute?
Y: I’m working on a painting of a Gameboy. I’m really excited by displaying the screen within the painting. It needs a few more layers of cadmium pale yellow to get the nostalgia just right. It was going to be a game of Tetris but it’s definitely going to say ‘GAME OVER’, alluding to the end of the technological age’s innocence.
I: One of your works I really like is Mentally I’m Here. Why a croissant?
Y: I was painting the almonds onto it just before you got here. When I originally started painting it I was like, ‘this is such a silly painting’ and my friend said, “we can overanalyse until things don’t get made that could’ve been made”. I think that sometimes you have to get it out. The most outlandish ideas can sometimes become the most affecting.
Mentally I’m Here, Fleur Yearsley, 2022.
I: Your painting of an overflowing bin seems to epitomise your work.
Y: What, rubbish? Trash artist? *laughs*
I: No! It’s the colours and the engagement with real life while making reality look more attractive.
Y: It’s elevating the banal and the everyday. Giving it a platform and a space to become the protagonist. Things that would be overlooked, viewpoints that have been missed. My painting, Eye of the Storm, is the unusual perspective from inside a washing machine. My dog is looking in from outside and mesmerised by the frenzy of clothes spinning around but also they are perhaps transfixed by his own reflection in the glass – then becomes a mirror for his own psyche in an introspective moment, but also an ephiphany that he’s a dog! *laughs*
Wasteman, Fleur Yearsley, 2021.
I: Part of the nostalgia of your paintings is your use of recognisable items of clothing. In the washing machine or the girls’ bathroom, your painterly pants and shoes make me think of favourite clothes I’ve worn to death. Why are brands interesting to you?
Y: I love sportswear. I’m interested in how the brands we wear almost act as uniforms for identities. The lifestyles we buy into and what communities we feel we belong to. it features in so many of my works.
I: I know a few different artists who make art about being northern, using cultural iconography that’s very on the nose. Your work has a northern sense of humour, a bluntness, in a way, but it’s not so immediate and inescapable. That’s an attractive thing to me, you want the painting to make you do a bit of work.
Y: …And to be open and generous.
All images are property of the artist unless stated otherwise. You can keep up to date with Yearsley’s work via her instagram here, or her website here.
