Ian Davenport uses all manner of household tools, including watering cans, nails and electric fans, to create works that explore the physical qualities of paint. In some works, bursts of air cause paint to streak across the canvas; in others, he uses a syringe to apply thin streams of colour that are sometimes left to pool beneath the painting. It’s for these poured paintings that Davenport is best known, having exhibited them at the Venice Biennale in 2017 and created a permanent public commission under a railway bridge on Southwark Street in south London. Counted among the Young British Artists and a participant in Damien Hirst’s ‘Freeze’ exhibition of 1988, Davenport has exhibited at institutions including Tate Liverpool and Dallas Contemporary. A survey of his career is at Waddington Custot, London, until 21 November.
Where is your studio?
My studio is in Peckham in south London. I’ve lived in south London since I first came to Goldsmiths in 1985, moving to several different places. My wife Sue and I live about 10 minutes’ walk from our studios.
How would you describe the atmosphere in your studio?
It’s a large industrial warehouse that was originally a dye house and laundry complex for the local community in the Victorian era. The complex is hidden away behind a row of terraced houses, so it’s surprisingly quiet and peaceful. In the 1950s it was converted into a dairy and now it’s a warehouse space, great for making the large abstract paintings I enjoy creating.
Is there anything about you don’t like about your studio?
No, I think it’s a great space. I’m incredibly fortunate. In an ideal world it would have a little bit more natural light, but it’s wonderful.
When I moved into the studio the landlord only gave me a short lease, as they wanted to develop the building into flats. There was no natural light, so I got a very good price – and it was a mess. Fortunately, I had a builder friend who came up with a smart solution.
On the Old Kent Road there was a depot selling sheets of second-hand reinforced glass that had been measured wrongly for local house improvements. We bought sheets, each roughly the same size, then cut holes in the roof of the studio to fit the glass. A cheap and effective plan; we created upstands and sealed everything so suddenly the space was light and workable. After Brexit the landlord’s development fell through and I was able to purchase the building.
What does your studio routine look like?
I tend to get up and have a breakfast of tea and toast. Then Sue and I often go for a walk around Peckham Rye Park. The studio opens to my team at 10am and we work until 1pm. Lunch is an hour and then back to work until 6pm. I often stay on and finish anything I’m doing. I like having some time to myself at the end of the day. Sometimes I work late but normally I want to leave by 7pm.
Do you work with anyone in the studio?
I have two full-time staff members, Sophie and Fraser. Fraser has been with me for roughly 10 years, and he handles more of the technical aspects. He’s very adept at metal cutting and good with fabrication. Sophie is the studio coordinator and helps with all manner of things, from press releases and catalogues to organising artworks being shipped all over the world and archiving my work.
On a part-time basis there’s Hannah, who’s been with me since she was 16 and is a bit of a maverick. She has set up my website and social media. Lastly there’s Kate, who has developed a wonderful eye for mixing colour, which saves me a lot of time. She also cleans and fine-tunes paintings whenever they have scuffs or scratches.
Do you have many visitors?
Sue comes to visit every day. We have lunch together and she looks at what’s going on. And then maybe one visitor every couple of weeks to look at art, either someone from a gallery or another artist.
Do you listen to anything in your while you work?
I like listening to music when I work. It varies enormously, from classical music to the radio and Spotify playlists.
What’s your most well-thumbed book?
Probably Brice Marden: Paintings, Drawings and Prints, 1975–80. I got into his work when I was a student. Looking through that book, which I had in the studio, was a way of stepping away from my own practice periodically but still engaging and focusing.
‘Ian Davenport: Reflections’ is at Waddington Custot, London, until 21 November.
