George Fullard would have turned ninety-seven today. I don’t know what he’d be working on now – a monument to Boris Johnson, maybe, constructed from U-shaped sewage pipes. Because I imagine the humour and anger and inventiveness of the younger Fullard still burning bright. I know these qualities well, because for the best part of a year, between May 2015 and the spring of 2016, I lived with Fullard. At least, that was how it felt. Fullard himself wasn’t actually physically present – he’d died of a heart attack on Christmas Day 1973, aged fifty. But, if there was no body in the room, there was plenty of evidence.
Frances Guy considers the contributions of Barbara Hepworth and Herbert Read to a book which helped to establish Hepworth’s reputation as a key British artist. This was the first major monograph to be published on Barbara Hepworth, at the start of a decade which saw her career develop on the international stage and her sculpture […]
Last night saw the launch of The Sculpture of Charles Wheeler by Sarah Crellin, the latest book in the Lund Humphries/Henry Moore Foundation British Sculptors and Sculpture series. The Fine Art Society on New Bond Street provided an appropriate backdrop for an evening celebrating Crellin’s efforts to redress the historic lack of attention paid to Charles Wheeler’s […]