When were were teenagers, in the 60s, one of our group went to Art College in London. He was Slavo, Bohuslav Barlow, and now 50 years later he is still a full-time working artist living in the North of England. Remarkably, for an art college student not from a well-off, comfortable, urban background, he has made a living from making art.
When we used to meet up again, at Christmas or special times, Slavo would bring with him pieces of work and give them to us. These would go on our walls in digs at uni and then become part of our lives as we made our way into work and relationships afterwards.
This etching has always intrigued me
My father called it footballers’ legs, but I thought it was a reflection of the ‘swinging sixties’. I’ve always liked the fracture lines and how it jars the perception. For working class kids going to university (an unknown step in most families) this nervy image seemed to suggest there was always another dimension to experience, and it might be a painful or difficult one.
Of late I looked again at the etching and suddenly it struct me that this image summed up something about the Brexit fracture of the past few years. Like a broken window or a secret opening, the present is damaged and we don’t know what to make of it.
Anyone can read art differently and, if the art is any good, it will never have a simple meaning.
Bits and bobs 