George Rouy

Bigger?

Bigger. My girlfriend Harley [Weir, photographer] and I bought a church in Kent that we’re doing up at the moment, and I’m in the process of getting a studio just down the road from that.

Do you think you’ll make even bigger works once you’re there?

I hope I can make multiple works at once. At the moment I can only work on one canvas at a time and I have to move it to one side to work on another.

Wouldn’t it be a solution to make smaller works?

It’s funny you say that, because I was just speaking to one of my gallerists about that. I’d love to do a series of smaller works: quick time-based paintings that I do in one session. You know, Geroge Condo-style, where you have ten canvases laid out and you sit there and you do them all. I find it really hard to do a big painting and a small painting at the same time; it throws my mind off. But I’m looking at a few canvases in the studio now that are about a metre tall and wide.

That’s small for you, right?

They’re small, yes. I almost forget how big my works often are [easily up to 6sqm]. When you’re working on it, you forget about the size. It’s only when someone else comes into the studio that you realise how big they are.

Do you have any of your own works at home?

I have one that I kept. I’ll try to keep some more because I think it’s important to do that. Because once they leave you, you never see them again, so it would be nice to have a few for myself.

You should keep one from every show you do.

That’s what my mum said. But it’s hard because the series are small and there’s people waiting for them.

How has working been for you during the lockdown? Do you mind the isolation?

At first it didn’t feel anything different. I’m always on my own in the studio anyway. I’ve been honing in on my work a lot. It felt really good because I didn’t have that pressure to socialise. It was, like, “Oh yeah, I’ve got a good excuse to be in all of the time.” But then, around Christmas, it all got very slow and very tiring, and I didn’t feel very motivated when it’s cold and you’re not seeing anyone.

Do you have an entire new body of work waiting to be shown?

Yeah, I just finished a series of seven paintings. They’re quite challenging. Well, it’s hard to tell at the moment because, unless you’re exhibiting, you can’t really get a sense of other people’s judgement. I’m just trusting my own intuition, but I really miss that element of presenting the work, in a space, to people. I love doing shows. We’re all social animals, aren’t we?

Yes, and not having that sense of recognition in other people’s eyes makes life feel a bit like you’re in a vacuum, don’t you think?

Exactly. I’m really excited for the new Summer of Love that’ll be on the way.

Oh my goodness, yes! Do you ever get models to pose for you?

It’s something I’ve been thinking about. I used to love life-drawing class at school. But when it comes to having someone over in my studio… I just enjoy working when there’s no one there. But I wouldn’t really rule it out.

Do people ever recognise themselves in your work?

Oh yes, there’ve been a few! My mum and my sister have both been, like, “That could be me.” But they always say they’re more ugly in the paintings.

Well, it’s a bit kitschy to make someone beautiful in a painting, isn’t it?

Yeah, it really is. I was looking at some of Gerhard Richter’s paintings, and he can make even the most bland-looking person have a life or a certain spark. I really like that. Even a pretty woman can have a certain larger-than-life spark that doesn’t become sexualised, you know? The way he does it – he’s one of the greatest.

I don’t think I’ve seen a lot of clothes in your paintings – if any. Do you have a particular taste for nudity?

It just feels like the right thing for me to do. The human body is beautiful – why put clothes on?

I have a photographer friend who shoots a lot of nudes, and he claims he can only do it well if he’s naked himself. Does that apply to painting too?

Well, it’s so cold in my studio, I’d be fucking freezing! I’d have to move to somewhere in the Mediterranean, I think. There, I’d be painting in my pants. I did a residency in Mexico two years ago – me and my mate, Jesse, who’s a sculptor. We had this beautiful courtyard and I just painted outside the whole time, just in my boxers, just amazing. I felt like Picasso working with his top off.

Is there a naturist side to you?

Oh, yeah. At home I don’t wear clothes. I don’t think about it; I just feel comfortable at home, naked. Harley’s the same. She’s great. We have very similar tastes, which helps while we’re doing up houses and things like that, you know what I mean? We’re not arguing constantly.

How did you two meet?

She photographed me when I was 18. Then we didn’t see each other for years, and then I did my first show and she bought two paintings, and that’s how we started speaking. So we found each other through work.

Why did she photograph you when you were 18?

Max Pearmain, the stylist, cast me for a series that Harley was shooting. I had just moved to London and Max’s partner, Laura, had seen me at an education project at the Tate Modern. Anyway, it’s a long story.

Ah, so you’ve modelled before? What do you think of the Jodie Barnes looks you are wearing on the preceding pages?

I really love them, especially the stuff using tailoring; that’s great. It’s not what I usually wear, of course. I’m always in painting gear. But I love the idea of dressing up to go out.

Don’t you hope people will dress up hysterically once this Covid drama is over?

Let’s hope so. I don’t see how we’re gonna come out of this and have things just be business as usual. It’s going to be a bit off balance with lots of things, if unemployment goes up and poverty rises or certain parts of society get more hit. But I think it’ll be a huge liberation for a lot of people. Culturally, too. I hope culturally it’s going to be a massive shift where people will be taking more risks in culture, arts, music. We’ll see.