Reading between players’ scribbles: don’t quit the day job
England stars’ charity portraits of the greats proved illuminating, writes Jonathan Liew
From hieroglyphics to Hieronymus Bosch, from the cave paintings of Lascaux to the tortured colourscapes of Mark Rothko, art has always offered a window into the human condition. Quite often, great works tell us more about the people who created them than about the subject they depict. Look between the lines, and occasionally you can glimpse right into an artist’s soul.
Every year, ahead of the Oval Test, England’s cricketers are asked to submit drawings of past players to be auctioned off for the Cricket United charity. On the face of things, just a little harmless fun for a great cause. But perhaps there are clues lurking in the portraits that lay bare the psyches of the players who drew them. Join us on an artistic odyssey right into the heart of the England dressing room...
“England Legend Graham Gooch” by Joe Root
The first thing to say here is that this looks nothing like Graham Gooch.
If you were being charitable, you could describe it as an impressionistic piece, an ambitious collage of Gooch’s 1990s moustache with his 1970s hairline. If you were being less charitable, you might wonder whether this was actually drawn in a police station, based solely on the recollections of a traumatised mugging victim.
There is a stark, black-and-white certainty here – the thick lines, the big round eyes, the striking collar shadows – that very much chimes with Root’s leadership approach. Root’s England are going to draw their way, with positivity and aggression, and frankly, if the result looks more like Yosser Hughes from Boys from the Blackstuff, that is your problem, not
“The Great Sir Viv” by Moeen Ali Effortless cool. And the operative word here is “effortless”: for all the skill and dexterity involved, you get the feeling Moeen reeled this off in about 10 minutes on the bus to training, in between Qur’an verses. It is a piece that does not speak, or scream, but drawls: every languid flick of the pen belying the same economy of style that makes Moeen such a dreamily handsome player to watch.
Look at the shirt, for example: a bare minimum of detail, but how much implied movement and power in those few simple lines. Then there is the West Indies crest on the cap: palm tree included, stumps, sun and sea all omitted. A deliberate decision? Without a doubt. As ever with Moeen, what you do not see is just as important as what you do. “Shaun Pollock” by Jonny Bairstow Great artists have never been shy of intruding on their own art. Look closely at the Arnolfini Portrait by the Flemish painter Jan van Eyck, and in the mirror on the back wall, behind the happy couple, you will see a blurry reflection of Van Eyck himself, waving. Not only that, but above the mirror, in small letters, are the words “Jan van Eyck was here, 1434”.
Graffiti from the 15th century! As epigraphs go, perhaps Jonny Bairstow’s may not endure quite as long. But behind his anguished plea for clemency – “I’m sorry this is so bad!” – lies, perhaps, a view of Bairstow’s troubled hinterland. Make no mistake, it is a very bad drawing: the sort of thing you would do in your exercise book to try and disguise the fact that someone had drawn a phallus, performed by someone with very little idea of how hair works. But why the apology? And who is he apologising to? Pollock? The viewer? Or himself?
“Sir Ian Botham”
Jennings
Jennings was head boy at the King Edward VII boarding school in Johannesburg, whose alumni populate not just the marble halls of cricket, but of science, politics and the South African judiciary. His manners and comportment are exemplary. And while many of his team-mates will have given this task the bare minimum of thought, Jennings knows that if he produces a weak drawing, he will be letting his team down, his parents down, his school down. But worst of all, he will be letting himself down.
And so what results is remarkably accomplished, and yet curiously soulless: the work of someone who has simply been set an assignment, and is performing it to the best of his ability. The detail in Botham’s hair, his beard, his eyes: there is clearly a good deal of thought here, but not much heart, and thus not much art. Task set, task complete. Hand up, first to finish.
“Mark Ramprakash”
Dawson
So, so many questions. Like: what on earth is going on with the hair? Could he not have spent at least a little more time colouring in the face? Are the black dots a beard, or has Dawson merely captured his subject after a messy caviar dinner? Where are the shoulders and arms? Is it an oversight, or is Ramprakash simply a head suspended in space, the void of the cosmos, the nothingness of existence?
Most importantly of all: when you are fighting for your place in the England side, and trying to shake off a reputation for rank mediocrity, why would you submit a picture – of your own batting coach, no less! – in which the artist’s signature exhibits more craft and application than the artwork itself? We’re not saying that Dawid Malan didn’t earn his Test debut on merit. But if it was a toss-up between him and Dawson on Thursday, this is what may have tipped the balance.