BRIAN CLARKE
2nd July 1953 - 1st July 2025
Harriet Vyner and Brian Clarke
Photograph by Garry Cooper
“BRI-AN – BRI-AN – COME AND MEET DURCK – HE’S A QUEER TOO!”
Linda Pleasence, shouting to Brian over her friend Dirk Bogarde in the gardens ot La Colombe d’Or Hotel in 1989.
Unusual incidents always happened around Brian and my day would improve immeasurably at the hearing of them. And now no longer. The feeling of loss will only increase over time. His absence seems to illustrate that life diminishes as you get older. Can that be correct? Apparently. The world is already less vibrant without him.
Though I could make this tribute far longer than the Victorian biographies Brian loved, the facts and figures of his biography will be covered by others: his Northern working-class upbringing; his fainting on first sight of York Minster when on a school trip; his time as a teenage spiritualist.
Obituaries will say that he is survived by his wife, the artist Liz Finch, his son Dan Clarke, his romantic partner Jordan Busson. They will state that he was once a Winston Churchill Trust fellow and later a trustee himself and in that capacity, responsible for many fellowship awards. He was executor of the estate of Francis Bacon and director of the Zaha Hadid foundation – both friends of his. A school in Oldham is named after him – something for which he was especially proud. There will be so much more besides, so many more achievements.
Dangerous Visions 1
Beyond the stained glass works, for which he is rightly acclaimed, Brian was a great artist in many other mediums: his powerful punk painting series, DANGEROUS VISIONS; his 1980 BOYS; the leadwork of 2008’s DON’T FORGET THE LAMB– his creations are startling, witty, mournful in turn. But always his work, whether stained glass, sculptural or on paper, are profound. He was rarely not working and the doing of the work fulfilled him. Even when he was at his lowest, in his hospital room, he spent hours creating collages. It’s that Northern thing. Work is the thing.
Brian Clarke, 1985
Photograph by Len Trievnor: Getty Images
I first met Brian at his house in Peel Street (Sir Brian - he was made a knight in 2023 - no arguments with that honour). It was the early eighties and I was with my friend, the art dealer, Robert Fraser, who would open his second gallery with an exhibition of Brian’s work. As Brian talked brilliantly in his glamorous Oldham accent, his cross-shaped earring glinting, the wild atmosphere he engendered was alarming. I was intimidated but fascinated and whilst being too shy to try to become part of his inner circle, I dreamed of becoming a close friend of his. Then, suddenly, in 1986, I was. He wrote me such a humorous and yet, sincere letter when I was in rehab in 1986 and it was then that our times together really began.
There are so many instances of creative partnerships with Brian. And fun. In 1990, Brian and his wife, Liz, his longtime friend Kipper Dodds and I, all took ourselves off to DH Lawrence’s Mountain Cottage in Derbyshire, to write a screenplay about the last hangman, Albert Pierrepoint who was, strangely, Brian’s godfather. From there we would go over to Manchester where I grandly announced that I would use my posh voice to get us into a night club – humiliatingly, I was the only one refused entry for wearing trainers. We also visited Brian’s home town of Oldham and at the Spindles there, he pointed out details of his recently installed beautiful stained glass roof. A passing man said, “Bloody awful, in’t it?” To which Brian shouted, “And I hate your hat!”
The Spindles
We both loved horror films, especially the nuclear apocalyptic and terrifying THREADS but our social evening of watching it again with (we thought) like minded friends was not a great success.
But we didn’t always enjoy the same tastes – I once played him a Bob Dylan song and I could see his eyes glaze over. He was polite of course, just as I was, always nodding along whenever he, incomprehensibly to me, discussed modernist architecture.
But apart from fun, of which there was so much, we planned joint ventures together, inspired by shared moments or long term passions. Not all of these came off, of course, but in 2015, Brian asked if I would collaborate in creating A STRONG SWEET SMELL OF INCENSE – an exhibition inspired by Robert Fraser and the artists he had represented, for Pace Gallery, London. In 1999 Brian had suggested I write a biography of Robert and this exhibition would celebrate both the biography (GROOVY BOB – the title suggested by Brian), our friendship with Robert and the Robert Fraser Galleries.
Preparing the A STRONG SWEET SMELL OF INCENSE at the Pace Gallery, London
Photograph by Garry Cooper
You don’t always associate erudition with silliness but Brian had both qualities. And with me, the latter side often won. He had an encyclopedic knowledge of so many subjects but however fascinating the talk, we always seemed to end up with silliness, which suited us both.
I last saw him on 24th June. We ate a delicious Indian dinner cooked by his brother Barry in his kitchen at Peel Street. And we laughed and laughed at past times: the occasion we played an expensive telephone joke on our mutual friend Jools Holland; Brian’s Norwich hotel curtains mysteriously catching fire; agonising, during the writing of the Pace Catalogue, over which flowery superlatives to use to avoid offending those mentioned.
Friendship is much more than laughter though. Not only loving him, I also counted on him and I wonder if anyone can take his place with that. Probably not.
CHEERIO PUBLISHING was inspired by an idea of Brian’s in 2016. The original plan had been to mount a huge Francis Bacon exhibition, which would then tour, displaying Bacon’s paintings but accompanied by books and short films that would be true to Francis’ spirit. The exhibition was to be called CHEERIO, named after Francis’ favourite drinking toast – again, Brian’s excellent idea and one that was not always appreciated by others we worked with. Too obscure and therefore possibly not understood by foreign museums? I see what you mean – Brian would say – but it’s going to be called CHEERIO. The exhibition got so far but never came to fruition.
However, the energy and inspiration were not wasted, and with Brian’s blessing, CHEERIO PUBLISHING was launched in 2020.
And in the CHEERIO office, hangs one of Brian’s beautiful works from the exhibition VESPERS, bought by Clare Conville, my fellow director and great friend of Brian’s. It creates a state of transcendence that suggests to me that Brian’s spirit is living on. But, of course, it’s not enough.
Concordia
I plan to go to Bahrain at some point, to see his most recent stained glass installation CONCORDIA in the International airport there, one of the largest stained glass installations in the world.
And I will always remember the thrill of VESPERS and the majesty of A GREAT LIGHT.
Walking through both immense exhibitions was like taking drugs (or rather, as you always hope to feel when you take them)
Ecstatic.
Special thanks to Garry Cooper and Jig Awuah
Photograph by Martin Booth