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Dear Friends,
It is with deep sadness that I pass on the news that Norman Ackroyd died earlier this week.
He had been ill for some time and was becoming increasingly weak and frail these past few months. He died at home on Monday, in his bed surrounded by his family. It was very beautiful: a sunny afternoon, and all was quiet and peaceful except for the birdsong heard through the open window in his room. His family and friends agree he would have been very content with the beautiful, poetic moment and the time felt right for him to leave.
Though he of course died in his home in central London, perhaps the weather and the birdsong escorted his mind to memories of some of the furthest and most beautiful corners of the British Isles - where he was often his happiest.
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Vincent and I have worked with Norman for almost fifteen years. He has been a guide, an inspiration, and most importantly a friend to us both. His death was not a surprise, but that doesn't stop it from being shocking. Grief feels both hollow and heavy all at once.
We both feel so very privileged to have worked with Norman so intimately and intensively over the years and it seems unbelievable that we won't get to work together again and indeed that he never got to visit his last exhibition at the Eames Gallery in person. (He was however shown pictures of so many of his friends and collectors celebrating him and his work at the opening night - I'm sure the pictures made him smile.)
Norman's works are instantly recognisable for their breathtaking and sensitive renditions of the majestic landscapes he adored. He was a master of the etching plate and managed to use aquatint as if he were painting with watercolours. Many argue that there is more colour in one of his etchings than in most artists' paintings. He was the finest etcher of his generation and a figurehead for printmaking everywhere. His legacy in the artform that he made his own can be seen in the work of the many artists he inspired, taught and nurtured.
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It has been very moving in the gallery this week - to be surrounded by Norman's work. The love that he poured into each etching and every salt-crusted watercolour is evident. Poignantly, this exhibition, 'Notes on Water', was the last entry in Norman's work diary and it focuses on celebrating the special journeys around the British Isles that he made with friends and family. Norman spent a great amount of time over the past months contemplating his favourite trips and the people he made them with. The culmination of this is what has turned out to be his very last etching: the one he made as a collaborative project with his daughter Poppy. Together they have created a beautiful 10" vinyl with Poppy's music and Norman's design. The etching made for the cover is also called 'Notes on Water' and only just made it into the exhibition at the very last minute.
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Being able to work directly with Norman and to represent him in London was a dream come true for us. When Vincent and I first set out to work in this industry we wanted to represent the very best of printmaking and so of course, Norman simply had to be on our books - or rather on our walls.
When we moved to London to set up the gallery, we lived on Bermondsey Street - in fact our flat was so close to Norman's that we could have called to him from one of our rear windows to his. (Something we considered doing more than once..!) We were quite desperate to find a way to talk to him to ask him to work with us, so we wrote to him, emailed him and tried calling him, we sent messages to him through other galleries and friends and we even tried popping round unannounced… But the wonderful and fiercely loyal Niamh Clancy - Norman's studio manager was skilled and well-practiced at keeping eager gallerists at arm's length until Norman gave his consent.
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We wrote once more explaining how much we valued, respected and loved printmaking. How we had dreams to open our own gallery in London dedicated to printmaking and printmakers and we wanted to do it here in SE1. We sent him an invitation to visit us.
A couple of weeks later, we opened our third London exhibition at the (hired) Menier Chocolate Factory. We had a wonderful selection of prints from Miró to Picasso, Hoyland to Hodgkin along with works by some of the contemporary printmakers that we still work with today.
I remember the pre-show nerves we felt opening this important exhibition - our biggest and most ambitious yet. Everything was ready, labelled and polished and the wine ready to pour… It turned 6pm and we opened the heavy, wooden double doors to the gallery. To our shock and delight we actually had a queue of people waiting to come in! And right at the front of the queue, beaming at us, was Norman Ackroyd!
"Alright you two! You must be Vincent and Rebecca. I'm Norman - let's see what you've got then!"
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We showed Norman around our exhibition and spoke with him about the prints we had on show. He told us stories about working with the young David Hockney at the Royal College whilst marvelling with us at the subtleties of the aquatint and delicate cross-hatching David used in his etchings. We discussed the fluid beautiful shapes of birds that were painted with carborundum in Braque's etchings, and the crazy bright Pop designs in Joe Tilson's screenprints.
Norman brought along someone very special with him that day - his friend and colleague Jason Hicklin. I remember Norman told us more than once that evening to "watch this one - he's the artist doing the most remarkable things with etching these days! He's got something very special going on." And we couldn't agree more.
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At the end of the evening Norman chose a beautiful work by Henry Moore and offered us the opportunity of choosing any works from his studio at trade price to match the same amount as the Moore in payment. If we did a good job of selling those works he promised to work with us again.
We have since hosted twelve solo exhibitions of his work in our gallery, as well as numerous talks and special events at the Collectors' Studio. He has featured in so many mixed shows and auctions and art fair stands with us and we have also produced books and films together. We even managed to host a Zoom talk for collectors with him shortly after lockdown. We have sold almost 3000 of his artworks to collectors and fans of his work. So we must have done something right that night!
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We loved working on exhibitions with Norman. He was as keen to try new things and share his passion about printmaking as we were. This meant doing all kinds of interesting and sometimes spontaneous events at the gallery and studio.
Some of my favourites included the time we turned one of the gallery walls into a replica of his studio ideas-pin-board - with all his photographs, notes, scraps of poetry and his many sketches and maps on it. He took such pleasure talking everyone through everything on this wall and it was such an amazing insight into his way of working and planning his etchings.
Or the time he was telling us about how he arranged his compositions, and he pinned up a large sheet of white paper on the wall of the gallery and just started drawing. Creating a beautiful sketch right in front of us - I'm sure the room held its breath while he worked.
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One evening at the gallery, when we were discussing poetry he begun reciting the shipping forecast to a room of people hanging on his every word… He was telling us how much he loved to listen to the radio 4 broadcast of the shipping news and considered it a form of poetry in itself. He amazed us all with how well he could remember every name in order - the crowd in the gallery willed him on and delighted at the spontaneous show!
Another time someone asked him about how Picasso did sugar lift etching, and so he pulled from his great poacher's jacket with its Mary Poppins pockets an incredible assortment of objects and bottles including note books, paint brushes, cigarettes, small metal plates, pencil stubs, scraps of poetry… he passed someone a plastic tray and asked them to fill it with boiling water - meanwhile he laid out many of these items and proceeded to show us all how Picasso made a sugar-lift etching by copying one right in front of us on the small table in the middle of the gallery!
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And the many times he poured over maps and sketches: showing us where he sailed; where he landed; where he walked; where he climbed; where he sat to sketch; where he found a great B&B which also cooked the best fish supper and where he drank the finest whisky with the finest company. All this we squinted at through the endless swirls of smoke from the cigarette - a constant prop between his fingers - which he used to point out these magical places on his well-worn, much loved maps.
Or the times he showed us around his studio and the printing presses - opening jar after jar of fascinating mixture of interesting ingredients - oils, powders, inks and acids along with the numerous clips, clasps, clamps, wedges, rulers, bits of twine and material and of course so many different sheets of paper and card everywhere doused in the warm glow of the copper plates rested around the room on shelves. And the smell… the smell of ink and oils and smoke and strong coffee… Norman was like an alchemist in his laboratory when in his printing studio and it was such an honour to be invited into that space.
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I carry separate notebooks for every artist we work with. I was looking back through my book for Norman today and was moved by the last page which I wrote during one of our meetings together last year. It is titled: 'New ideas for shows and talks', and has a list written with a hurried hand of the exciting ideas and plans we were making together.
We had so much we were still looking forward to exploring with Norman. He was always so full of stories and projects, ideas and energy. He wanted to talk about other artists' work as well as his own and he wanted to support younger artists, encourage printmakers and celebrate the talent and possibility in the art world today. I feel so sad not to be working on this list of brilliant ideas with Norman.
I find it so hard to believe that Norman won't walk into the gallery at any moment - to meet and talk with the visitors enjoying his work, or to view and discuss the other shows we put on or simply to chew-the-fat with whoever is behind the desk that day. Usually, he would come into the gallery on a break with one of his favourite ice creams from down the road - or would hover half-in-half-out with a lit cigarette. I will certainly not stop looking for him whenever I pass Jose's - his favourite tapas restaurant midway between our gallery and his studio.
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Tonight, we will raise a glass of red wine to his work that we have on our own wall at home and toast this wonderful artist, poet and friend.
I can hear his voice in my head: "Alright you two… let's see what you've got then!"
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