Q&A: Michael Cox, painter of suburbia
The suburbs are difficult to love.
In the collective mind of the city dweller, suburbs represent an unremarkable inter-zone of not-quite-town, but not-quite-countryside. An in-between place to be passed through rather than explored.
The interchangeable architecture makes them feel characterless, while prioritising the car over the pedestrian means human interaction – the basis of community-building – is fatally compromised.
However, there’s hope. For generations, creative thinkers have perfected their craft from the anonymous sprawl of suburbia.
Michael Cox is one such artist. His paintings make heroes of the ordinary: landscapes littered with street lamps, road signs, blank walls – the very fabric of suburbia – feel elevated, considered and beautiful.
Umbrella caught up with him to chat about his work.
Hi Michael. Your images feature places that seem unremarkable. The outskirts instead of the centre of town. What attracts you to these suburban settings?
The suburban paintings speak of what it’s like to grow up in Britain today. They focus on this collective sense of familiarity and place – drawing upon ideas of what we call home.
Often, we’re exposed to mundane, banal things that distinguish ‘home’ – hedges, picket fences, grass lawns… these are all markers of our own space and in some way translate onto the canvas in a more painterly, abstract way.
Your pictures, especially the dynamic collages, inject a sense of energy into these everyday scenes that juxtaposes the sleepiness of suburbia. Do you enjoy that tension?
Yes absolutely, the tension in still images is something I’m interested in, and disrupting that by cutting and rearranging is a way of creating something new.
You work in several mediums: what’s your favourite?
I enjoy working in oil on linen, when money permits. There's such a tactile quality to the medium. It’s quite labour-intensive but for the larger paintings it’s definitely better.
That sense of suburbia being mundane – do you think it inspires creativity?
It certainly did as far as I was concerned: I was always thinking of the ‘other’ or just ‘anywhere but here’. We grow used to our surroundings and almost numb to them.
When I mention that I grew up in Somerset a lot of people say how beautiful it is: how tranquil, picturesque… but I just remember it being a little boring.
Do you think that sense of being from a ‘nowhere’ place can be an asset?
Picasso thought that you have to make work in isolation. I found there’s a level of anonymity involved when working somewhere remote, but you do start to feel that everybody knows one another and word of what you’re doing spreads quickly.
There tends to be a bias towards, um, ‘traditional’ art in these places. By that I mean illustrative paintings of quaint landscapes. I do tread that fine line however. But in my opinion the boldest, best work happens in an eclectic urban environment.
That said, having time and space in a busy city to create is something of a luxury for unestablished artists like me! I studied my BA at Falmouth and now live in London. I find that there's such a rich culture here – of art and life.
Do you think that will change the way you work? For example, your images don't contain people
I think making work in somewhere like London definitely changes the way you approach things, and forces you to focus. There's so much art to see but that can be dangerous if you pitch yourself alongside that. It’ll be a while before I approach the human figure, there's just so much to paint before then!
And finally, what’s next?
I’m undertaking teacher-training at the moment so I’m excited to see what avenues this opens up. Artists that teach always report a change in their practice so I’m curious as to how mine might develop.