I met Andrew Vicari in his studio in Riyadh. The interview did not have an auspicious start. He was feeling tired and out of sorts and I’d spent the day trying to wring intelligent commentary from a dozen dullards. Somehow we survived the first 10 minutes together and eventually progressed to a sharing of experiences. Vicari became excited and animated as I asked questions, which let him know that I had a genuine interest in his work. I’d been warned in advance that he had a huge ego and outrageous temper but neither was in evidence over the course of the evening. He was gracious in explaining his work in progress and accepted my comments on which paintings were attractive to me and which made me shiver. He was very human in discussing the wrenching process he goes through daily to force himself to stand before the canvas and paint. While his work may be glorious at its conclusion, getting it to that point is a lonely, exhausting process. Drinking coffee at the interview’s end, we began exchanging telephone numbers of acquaintances misplaced and I became genuinely fond of this man whom Pierre Galante of Paris Match called the “King of Painters, Painter of Kings.”
Vicari is recognized as one of the world’s most powerful painters. He is one of the great figurative artists of this century and the last of the great oil painters in the European tradition. Most articles written about Vicari focus on the enormous sums he earns for his work. Vicari was ranked 58th in a list of the top earners in Britain for the year 2000 according to a British study. The Sunday Times has put him at the top of a list of the most expensive painters in Britain. In the past year he was honored with the unveiling of his work done for the French National Police. Here in the Kingdom, he is best known for his paintings of the Gulf War and the liberation of Kuwait.
Although born in Wales, Italy was the scene of his childhood. His talent was discovered and encouraged at the Slade School of Fine Art in London. He now spends his days flitting between work and friends in Saudi Arabia, Europe and the United States. Officially British but with no real ties to bind him, Vicari stays in one place only until boredom begins to set in and then he is off again. This is not a new habit. He tells an amusing tale of how some years back he stepped out of his apartment to go to the corner shop, got distracted and ended up returning home a few days later — much to the displeasure of his wife at the time.
Vicari’s work is frequently dark and gloomy, although I did encounter some of his lovely lighthearted sketches. He is aware of the atmosphere provoked by his paintings and makes no apology for it.
“I am not a historical painter,” said Vicari. “I paint what I feel and my paintings are full of foreboding. After World War II everything became slightly suspect. There’s a constant anxiety. World War II was such a turning point for mankind. We went from being slightly bruised to practically vaporized.”
Vicari was in a pensive mood about the current status of artists around the world. He was disheartened that there has been so much focus on the sums he receives for his paintings. He pointed out that no one is astonished by the huge bonuses earned by investment bankers and corporate executives but there always seems to be some sort of disparaging comment made when a contemporary artist makes a respectable sale. He felt that in general, artists have lost the respect that they once enjoyed.
“My father was a landowner and he helped me with financial support so that I had a chance to make it against all odds,” said Vicari. “My work is a return to the figure after we viewed acres and acres of abstract art. I wanted to get away from the abstract art and so that’s how it all started for me. Over the years I have fought for painters and our right to be justly compensated for our efforts. People used to admire painters. They used to be the long-term princes. But we don’t find that so much anymore.”
When Vicari says that he has fought for painters, one front on which the battle has been waged is against the art dealers. Vicari explained that in centuries past patrons of the arts and painters used to have a strong rapport and that is how so many wondrous masterpieces were produced — because artists had the time and the support that was needed for such endeavors.
“Then came the dealers,” continued Vicari with disdain. “They saw that there was a wealthy middle class which would be willing to buy paintings without knowing the painters. So now the dealers practically own the painters. The painters must pander to the commercial tastes of the dealers and in the end they still will earn practically nothing for their efforts. That’s why I have always tried to go directly to the clients. I’ve been sponsored by individual clients and by groups. In the late 1960s, I did have some of my works exhibited by galleries but I always took my paintings back after the shows. I never would leave them with the dealers. Now I have more friends than I could ever have imagined and I have no need to go to dealers to get support for my art, but it is very difficult for artists starting out if they choose to shun the dealers. I can’t say that all galleries and dealers are crooks. That wouldn’t be quite fair. But art dealers are in many ways like car dealers — slightly tainted and not admired.”
Later, Vicari invited me to take an impromptu turn around his studio while he dug through the clutter on his desk, looking for some photographs I needed. I called out comments and questions. His sketches of one ambassador’s wife were light and gay — in stark contrast to his heavier works in oil. When asked why many of the subjects in his paintings seemed slightly hesitant and ephemeral, he explained that they were all in waiting.
“My paintings are not complete until someone is standing before them,” said Vicari. “My subjects are all enigmas. I want to give each person the chance to interpret the painting in his or her own way. I don’t paint from a certain cultural perspective. A culture is something associated with biology. I believe in painting the truth of the spirit. Man was born with a free spirit and I have always respected that. My paintings are a representation of my deep feelings and each viewer is welcome to use the freedom of their spirit to experience my art in their own way.”