Roy Petley

B. 1950, British

In an age of “virtual reality” when the art of picture making is possible through the screen, and imagery is well considered when floating in formaldehyde, it is reassuring to find an evergreen of traditional values. Roy Petley has always lived life to the hilt, but he likes his friends to share his successes. He has known tough beginnings, but is aware of his talent and when he uses it to the full effect, it is devastating.

Choosing familiar subjects he is able to embody each with feeling. Each image has something to say – the colour and draughtsmanship put in with a seeming casualness immediately awakening the viewer to the freshness of the work.

More astonishing are his continuous successes, for whilst he has already become a legend in his own space, recent exhibitions overseas have proved that in reality his particular brand of figurative art is still very much alive and increasingly in demand.

Roy Petley was the first born to what became a large family in Grantham, Lincolnshire in April 1951. Little affection was shown to him, and the only discipline was the bad tempter of his mother; by the time he was five he had been removed from his family and taken to the Woodlands school near Uckfield, Sussex. A home as well as a school for abandoned children. He cannot remember when he first began to draw – ‘Always, always’ is his claim – but it was at this school, and in the charge of his art master whose name he recalls as Price. He was a resident at the school for ten years, and tells a story fit for Vasari in that in being let loose in the art room, in a frenzied flurry of activity, he used in one week all of the material available for all of the pupils for one whole term.

Formal recognition of his talent came when in 1967 at the age of sixteen he was awarded a place in the Brighton School of Art. With his family and educational background it had been decided without reference to him that he needed safe career prospect offered by training in commercial art. He found himself compelled to draw carefully and in great detail aesthetically unrewarding objects. When he asked if he might change to fine art he was refused. Regretting only that in some sense he had been betrayed by his art master at Woodlands, he cut short his term at University and hitch-hiked to Italy to see and learn from the great masterpieces that has so inspired him. He settled in Florence, haunting the Uffizi and Pitti galleries, examining with the closest scrutiny everything from Walter Paters favourite Botticellis and the melancholy piety of the Portinari Altar by Hugo van der Goes, to the rumbustious pagan episodes illustrated by Pietro da Cortana. He charmed his way into the Gabinetto dei Disegni and was permitted the privilege of handling the old master drawings in that magnificent collection. After a year of living through his art in Florence, Petley returned to England. He was still only seventeen and without the experience of formal training in a major art school, lacking the support and recommendation of well-known teachers no gallery would look at his work. He drifted to Belfast and did what he could to survive, and drew whenever he could. The Bell Gallery gave him some encouragement and sold his drawings, but the time spent surviving and the time spent drawing were unequal and with a sense of growing frustration he returned to London. Back in London, Petley found work in the Greenwich Theatre which afforded him the enough time to paint and he managed to exhibit his works in the small galleries of Liberty’s and Heal’s.

In 1972, now twenty one he left the theatre confident that he could support himself through his art. Again the galleries around Bond street refused to even view his work – all forms of abstraction were in vogue and Petleys dogged attachment to landscape and urban scene kept him remote from high fashion.
With resource and rebellion that had been his boyhood strengths, he took his paintings to the railings of Green Park – the extraordinary fusion of art and junk that lined the length of Piccadilly every Sunday under the respectable title of ‘The Open Air Art Show’ and immediately caught the eye of American dealers who were to become his constant patrons.

With such success Petley could have retreated to a studio and worked for exhibitions in America, but he liked the raffish life of the Sunday shows, the banter with other artists and the chance encounters with people who might buy.

One cheque caused him some dismay, for it was signed only with a Christian name, but the bank on which it was drawn was reassuring – not only would it be honoured but without realising it he has become the object of Royal patronage. The Duchess of Kent, whose cheque it was returned for more paintings. A member of the Queen Mother’s household staff came to look at Petleys works and bore back to her a portrait study of Prince Charles. Petley was summoned to the Queen Mother’s presence. Commissions followed from both the Duchess and the Queen Mother

Petley was required amongst other things to paint views of Sandringham, and one painting bought by the Queen Mother was given to Prince Charles as a birthday gift. Set fair with such patronage he gave lessons to the Duchess of Norfolk – an oddly old fashioned relationship rare now though common enough in the 20th century. The wry twist is that Petley himself was untutored and could only teach by example. The paid sat together painting the same landscapes on the same scale, just as Paul Maze and Winston Churchill, exchanging observations with Petley having to give reasons for actions which to him were wholly instinctive.

By 1985 The Open Air Art Show had lost its casual attractions for Petley. He had for some years lived in Norfolk and the growing number of patrons and supporters in the country removed the need for weekly journeys to London. He had no reputation among critics and the Arts Council had never heard of him but his paintings were in rising demand and his American connections were as constant as ever. Able to sell all that he could paint and with the patronage that must be the envy of even the most celebrated contemporary painters he had no need for the London art world and it was only the consequence of persuasive argument that he was persuaded to expose in London.