Paula Rego when Childhood Decides

Realistic and fantastic, stemming from the chaotic world of childhood, blending autobiographical elements and folk tales, the feminine condition and political events, the exhibition The Cruel Stories of Paula Rego, at the Musée de l’Orangerie until 14 January 2019 (curated by Cécile Debray), reveals the power of a corpus relatively unknown in France. In parallel, in October a series of Paula Rego’s works were shown at Galerie Sophie Scheidecker in Paris. KentishTown, a working-class district in North London. In an alleyway—in the shape of an arc, as is often the case in this city—sits a row of warehouses from the 1900s, closed by large sliding doors in painted wood. On the brick facades we can still see the rusty signs of the former factories. It’s easy to imagine the workers of old stream-ing out at break time, now replaced by trendy young executives, graphic designers, artists, etc. An extraordinarily warm woman, marked by her turbulent, emotional life, welcomes us to her vast studio. Eighty-three-year-old Portugese-born British artist Paula Rego is (finally) being honoured by an exhibition in a Parisian museum, although having realized such an impressive body of work, she no longer needs the recognition of such a distinction. It would be wrong to describe her

as a feminist, an activist fighting for battered and tortured women; a denouncer of evils. Her painting is so explicit and prolific on these subjects that there is a risk of seeing only, or especially, that. Certainly, her work displays a ferocity, but also an immense tenderness for the human race. During our discussion, and once she has been made to feel at ease, her black eyes glitter, seeking connivance and sympathy. Her answers contain a childlike simplicity, as do the glances she throws you. She does not bother with effect, formula or affectation. In this resilient woman, moral and physical suffering have been commuted into a game, relatives have been transformed into characters, and memories (or pseudo-memories) into stories. All done with a great sense of humour and an elegant modesty. The repetition in her paintings and drawings of scenes either experienced or imagined is particularly satisfying: it reveals the mechanisms of her creation. However, it is childhood and its weight that dominate in a studio littered with puppets, dolls and stuffed animals, just as it does in her answers. As Pierre Péju once wrote about Jean-Paul Sartre,(1) childhood ‘is essentially that terrible moment with consciousness in the making, which pledges allegiance to an external and opaque adult will, to a regard fixed upon it, and “makes itself” in an immense solitude teeming with relations. It constructs itself for and against these powers (to the same extent that it “allows itself to be constructed” by these).’ SR

——— In your studio you’ve gathered lots of used objects, furniture, clothes, mannequins, knick-knacks, etc. How did they

all end up here? Certain items of furniture, like the (oversized) armchair are from the film my son [Nick Willing] made, Alice in

Wonderland.( 2) The other things, like the old dresses are sent to me by an American lady, for no reason at all! Some of the objects belonged to my grandmother.

How do you choose the costumes that

appear in your paintings? It depends if they’re costumes from the 19th or the 20th century. Sometimes I have to rent them from stores. In Love (1995), my daughter Vicky wore my wedding dress.

Have you always used second-hand

things? Yes, but not at the very beginning of my career as an artist.

I DRAW, AGAIN AND AGAIN Critics think that you attempt to create a form of theatre in your art. Are they cor

rect? I act as a director for certain paintings. The stories have a lot to do with me. Padre Amaro de Eça de Queirós, for example. All his books are very important. Do you know this story? Yes, it’s the story of a Portuguese priest, Padre Amaro, who arrives in a parish in Leiria and falls in love with a young woman. It shows the archaic society of the late 19th century, stifled by the Church’s power. In your paintings, he is disguised as a woman … That’s right! It’s a very good story, very sad …

Why do you collect all of these things? To

look at them and to paint them! When you have an idea for a drawing or a painting, do you see things clearly in your mind before beginning work? No, that comes when I have the objects and stuffed animals in front of me, arranged as if on a stage.

How do you prepare for the drawings you

are currently working on? I sit on a chair and I simply draw. That’s all! I draw again and again so that I can get better at it.

Who was the model for your painting The

Virgin Mary? My granddaughter Lola. She was wonderful. Magnificent. She looked like the Virgin Mary at that age. She was fourteen years old. Nick Willing: The age she was when she had Jesus … You chose her because she was the same age.You had studied Jacobus de Varagine’s Golden Legend and discovered that in his text. I recognize some of the objects: the model of a boat for example. It’s the one from Time, Past and Present in the National Gallery in London. I keep all the objects that have appeared in my paintings and drawings.

Does art still bring you the same sense of

pleasure? When it works, I feel good; but when it doesn’t work, I feel pathetic. I get very cross with myself when I can’t draw as I’d like.

What do you do in that situation? I draw,

« The Maids ». 1987. Acrylique sur papier monte sur toile 213 x 244 cm. (Collection particuliere).

Acrylic on paper mounted on canvas

again and again. It’s all I can do. Drawing is the most important thing there is. Does the difficulty usually come from the technique or from the story you’re trying to tell? If I have a story, it’s okay.

NW But the story often changes when it

comes to your painting. That’s true, the story progresses and changes as it goes along, it becomes something else over time, a story that I really want. But it’s not the same difficulty as with the technique. FIGHTING THE BAD GUYS Do you look for new subjects and new ideas or do you prefer to stick with the same old subjects? I like new subjects, of

course.

How do you find them? You tell me! I don’t

know how to find them!

What are the recent plays or novels that

inspired you with new ideas? None of the books I’ve read recently have given me new ideas for stories. I had lots of books as a child and I used to read them every day. All of my stories come from childhood and have stayed with me. But I can’t always represent the same stories. That would be boring.

NW Recently you began working on

Sophie’s Misfortunes. I used to love the Countess of Ségur’s books when I was in Portugal. We waited impatiently for the last book to be published in Portuguese. NW Look at these two identical dolls. They come from Sophie’s Misfortunes. They are made from papier mâché, suspended from their head, with bloodied, empty eye sockets, after having been mistreated by Sophie … That’s right. At that age did you identify with the Countess of Ségur’s characters? I liked Madeleine and I was interested in her cousin Paul. Who gave you these books? Your parents? No, me. Just me! I used to go to the bookshop in the village square [Ericeira]; I bought them and read them by myself. My father brought me back books from Lisbon, all American comic books. One was called

Sheena, Queen of the Jungle. It was about a female warrior. She fought against all kinds of animals and enemies. She was marvellous.

What did you like most about this comic

book? She represented everything I wanted to be: a strong woman who was fighting the bad guys.

Such as? My teacher Dona Violeta.(3) She was very mean.

How did your parents let this woman look

after you? How old were you? I was eight. I attended school for a short time but as I didn’t learn anything, my parents asked Dona Violeta to give me lessons, to teach me to read and count. This lasted up until the age of twelve. She was a mean and horrible woman. She used to tell me I was bad, a terrible person. She frightened me.

Was it a kind of torture? Absolutely.

Did you tell your parents? No. My mother wouldn’t have liked hearing such things.

Do you have brothers and sisters? I’m an only child. But I had cousins. Manuela, who is a little younger than me is still a good friend. I phone her every Sunday. She had Dona Violeta as a tutor too, like her brother Ze [Zezinho]. But Dona Violeta was kind to him. Because he was a boy!

Would you have liked to have been a boy?

Oh yes! I always wanted to be a boy. I ask you that because in your painting there are lots of characters in disguise, especially masculine figures disguised as women. When I was a child, I had a Robin Hood costume—I used to shoot arrows. I also had a Peter Pan costume. Who introduced you to the world of fairy tales, to this quintessentially Anglo-Saxon childhood culture? My father.

I think your father must have played a very

important role in your life. He’s very, very, very important. He was wonderful. He loved British culture. During the war he worked for Marconi. Every Saturday he would take me for a walk in Sintra where he would tell me stories and read me poetry. He was the one who showed me Dante’s Inferno engraved by Gustave Doré. I was very scared to look at it but I liked it a lot. For your exhibition at the Musée de l’Orangerie, there are engravings by Gustave Doré, Goya and Granville. That’s won

derful! NW He was a Belgian painter who had emigrated to Portugal. He was very old at the time. He painted me and I told myself that I could be an artist like him!

How old were you? Nine years old. I then attended St Julian’s School in Carcavelos. There my teachers encouraged me to draw and paint. I used to do enormous friezes on paper depicting Greco-Roman battles. I was the only one doing things like that! I did loads of these at school and at home too. NW There’s a very moving letter you wrote to your father when you finished school at seventeen. You wrote that you wanted to go to an art school but that the principal of the high school Mrs Boyd-Boman claimed you weren’t a good enough student and that you’d never succeed, and besides, there was no point imagining any kind of future for yourself. She said that the only good thing that could happen to you would be to marry someone with money. But your father didn’t agree. He considered you to be someone very talented who should go to art school. I wasn’t allowed to study at the Chelsea School of Art, which I could have done because my high school art teacher really liked my work and he was convinced that I could get in. He was willing to help me and that’s what he did. In the end, I wasn’t allowed study there as a girl attending the school had fallen pregnant. And I was afraid of the idea of having a child instead of painting. My chaperone in London at the time strictly forbade me from going there. NW Instead you attended the Slade School of Art where you immediately fell pregnant! No, I became pregnant in my second year. Slade was a good art school.

Did you make good friends amongst the

students there? Yes, there was Victor Willing, my husband, and Michael Andrews who was fantastic. And lots of others …

What was the atmosphere like in the

school? Strict. We were expected to draw all the time and to respect proportions. We drew from real models and took classes in anatomical drawing and perspective, a discipline in which I wasn’t much good!

How long did you stay in the school? Up until the end. I had my daughter Caroline and then I left. I stayed three years in total, from 1952 to 1956. EXHIBITING IN PARIS What does this exhibition in Paris mean to you? I’m very proud! After all the exhibitions and books dedicated to you, do you still need recognition? Of course, it’s very important. It’s a very special honour. Paris is a famous place that has brought together so many wonderful artists down through the centuries. NW You had a very unfortunate experience with France in the early 1960s. Yes! Mr Lacloche.(4) He came from France to Ericeira to see my painting. He saw it and liked it. He looked at everything I was doing at that time, especially the collages. And he offered me an exhibition in his gallery in Paris. He packed up all the paintings in his car and off we went. When we arrived at the gallery, he unpacked the paintings and off I went to London. And a few days later, I received a letter saying that after reflection Mr Lacloche no longer wanted my paintings! You say you’ve never had much luck in France. We could say that this is perhaps not the only reason why you haven’t had success here. Your painting is very provocative and the French public might be shocked seeing your work on display.

I would have been happy with that.

In 1991 there was an exhibition at the Fondation Calouste Gulbenkian in Paris. Do

you remember? Of course. The Fondation Gulbenkian was wonderful with me. They have always given me grants. When I told them that I was interested in folk tales, they told me: ‘You can have a grant. Read these books and do what you want afterwards.’ This is exactly what happened. I went to the British Museum where all of these illustrated books are housed and it was just marvellous.

What books? Charles Perrault, the Grimm brothers, Portuguese folk tales.

What is your relationship with what we usually call (for convenience) the London School? Lucian Freud, Frank Auerbach,

R. B. Kitaj. I’ve never had any relationship with these artists. I see Frank [Auerbach] from time to time. In any case, there’s never actually been a ‘school’ as such. Today you’re represented by a good gallery [Marlborough, London], isn’t that right? I was very lucky to get them because it was very difficult for me to get exhibitions no matter where, in England for example. It was different in Portugal. But Marlborough came late in the day. Before, I exhibited at the gallery of Edward Totah (an Armenian). I had exhibitions in his gallery and when I did the

Dogs and Girls series, Marlborough liked it and asked me to join them. NW Edward Totah spotted you thanks to artist Alexis Hunter who suggested you participate in a collective exhibition of women artists in the early 1980s. And your first big exhibition in England was with him. You exhibited the Dogs and Girls series at a time when women artists weren’t even considered.

Is there a fundamental difference between being a male artist and a female artist? Today, not so much. But at the time when I was trying to break into the art scene, it was very difficult. I tried to present my work to everyone. I showed slides to people interested in art and they turned their backs. They didn’t care. I think they didn’t like the idea of a female artist. They were afraid. They wanted us to have children, but not to work.

Things have changed, haven’t they? Hugely! I had children and I had a career. And that’s a good thing!

« A Frog he would a-wooing go I ». 1989.

Eau forte et aquatinte. 52 x 38 cm. Etching and aquatint

L’atelier de Paula Rego et portrait de l’artiste.

(Ph. Scarlett Reliquet). Studio and portrait BEING A WOMAN AND AN ARTIST Are you aware of the #metoo movement?

Yes!

What were relations like between men

and women when you were younger? I remember it was very common for men to pinch your bottom in the tramway in Lisbon. I was often covered in bruises. It was very common. Once I came home with soiled clothes …

How did you react to such behaviour? I would take off my coat! These men would rub themselves up against you in the tramway. NW It was common at that time in Portugal; men even masturbated on the beach.

Your paintings show some horrific abortion

scenes. Yes, it was very common. Today, it’s less important to denounce such things because abortion is legal. In any case, women do it no matter what. Did you know women who had abortions? Yes, of course. At the time I did the series on abortion, there was a referendum on the subject in Portugal. But women didn’t vote for it in sufficient number because they were afraid. It took a second referendum to legalise abortion in Portugal.(5)

What was your personal experience of

abortion? In Ericeira, women used to come begging to the door of our farm. Every Saturday we gave money to the poor and most of the women who came begging needed the money for an abortion. I lived with my grandmother at the time who supported it. NW During the Salazar dictatorship [1932– 1968], people died of hunger and the women who already had ten children didn’t want anymore! That’s true.

You are often defined as a storyteller. How

would you define yourself? Well, I discover things about myself through images that tell stories. And if I continue to paint stories, I will discover even more things about myself. There’s always something new. I have a last question to ask you about the preservation of your work. Is it important for you to conserve the history of your work, all of the documents that make up your archives, your photographs, etc.?

That doesn’t really concern me. But have you thought about a place where all of your work could be collected? No. I

don’t think about that at all. NW A large part of your work is conserved at the Casa das Histórias in Cascais, near Lisbon, your museum; your archives will also be kept there. But you’re not particularly interested in leaving your work to anywhere other than the Centre Pompidou. What did you think of the fact that a museum has been built and devoted to you in Portugal? I loved it, it was fantastic. Especially the architecture.

Where do you want to visit in Paris during

your few days there? I want to go to the Louvre to see Géricault’s Raft of the Medusa and the Degas paintings at the Musée d’Orsay. I love that museum. To finish, I’d like to know your opinion on psychoanalysis. Have you tried it yourself? I had a psychoanalyst for many years. He was wonderful. Jungian. Do you see that sofa over there? He gave it to me when I finished my sessions with him. He’s dead now. Edward Hirst was his name, he was marvellous. He really helped me to be less afraid.

To be less afraid of what? Of everything! I

was afraid of everything.

And are you less afraid now? No [ laughs]. Translation: Emma Lingwood (1) ‘Every man has his natural place, nor pride, nor the value set in the altitude: childhood decides’, excerpt from The Words by Jean-Paul Sartre. (2) Director Nick Willing, son of Paula Rego and painter Victor Willing, is also the author of a documentary film called Paula Rego, Secrets and Stories, Kismet Films for the BBC, 2017. (3) Dona Violeta is represented in numerous paintings, and is also in her studio in the form of a mannequin with a skull for a head. (4)The Galerie Lacloche opened on the Place Vendôme in Paris in 1959. First attracted by abstract painting, Jacques Lacloche met Michel Ragon, who guided him towards the relationship between the arts and utilitarian objects. It was around this period that he discovered designers like Roger Tallon and Raymond Guidot. (5) In Portugal on 8 March 2007 the parliament adopted a bill legalizing abortion up until the tenth week of pregnancy. On 11 February 2007 the Portuguese had voted on the issue in a referendum: 59.3% of voters were in favour, 40.8% against. Scarlett Reliquet is head of programming (courses, symposiums, conferences) in the Cultural Services Department of the auditorium of the Musée d’Orsay, Paris.