James-Lee Duffy

We are sitting in your studio for this conversation – it’s an amazing space, can you tell me a bit about how you work in here. Well, the room’s divided up. The small scale paintings are done here along with my exploration into different mediums and processes. For the bigger stuff, I’ll work over there. So, the smaller pieces are development works for the bigger pieces? Sometimes, or they may form part of a bigger collection. Could you describe the process of developing a piece of work? I’m not one for sketchbooks or writing stuff down. It’s all in your head then? Very much so. I’ll probably have a sentence, or a title of a collection in my head and then everything will come from that. So, I may have thought about a piece for 2 weeks before starting it and then it will take around a week to produce it. Oh, really? There is so much energy in your work that it feels as though they are painted in one session. Some of my work is like that, but often it’s over a number of sessions. And when you revisit a piece, are you considering the composition or is it to add more layers to the visual story? It’s a mixture of both. It’s working until you get that sense that it’s done. What I really like to do is build up the layers and textures. I’ve submitted two pieces to the RA Summer Show this year and they were a long process because I wanted to make sure that every element was right – the idea, the textures and the materials. My work is very animated and my style can be quite fast, but the thought behind it and the process of getting to that point, can cover a 2 or 3 week period.

Let’s talk about that. You say you start by developing a conceptual sentence, so I’m guessing you’re one of those people who mulls ideas around in your head. Constantly. And your ideas may change during the development stage, but that evolution is all taking place in your head. Correct. Then you do some smaller development sketches and then go straight to the big work? Pretty much so, yeah, I’ll dive straight in. The idea is already in my head, so I can already visualise how I think it will look.

Can you talk me through the piece that’s hanging in the studio? Yeah sure, a lot of my work is heavily rooted in childhood nostalgia. I had an amazing childhood – nothing dark or mysterious about it at all! Am I right in saying that you’ve got 2 brothers? Yeah, I am the eldest. I must admit, I did start listening to an old interview with you. I didn’t want to learn too much so I stopped quickly, but I got to the part where you mentioned your brothers and how they are both just known as Duffy. That intrigued me, so I Googled them and was like, wow – you’re the clean cut one! When you guys get together, you must look like an East London ZZ Top tribute. (James laughs) Very much so. We’ve all definitely got a certain look about us for sure. They’re both very creative as well – one’s a successful hairstylist and the other a great jeweller. Sorry, I interrupted you, jumping back to your childhood. You were brought up with 2 younger brothers and your family life was good. Yeah, amazing. Really good. And school? Terrible. I loathed school. Why? Conformity. Being told to do something which you just aren’t capable of doing. I’m dyslexic, so at school, you were just seen as thick. So, it wasn’t rebelliousness? There was an element of that but it was more about not wanting to conform – why should I dress and behave like everyone else and have to do the same things like, Maths or English, that I’m clearly no good at, when I could be doing art or cooking, that I could do really well. Do you still cook? Yeah, I love cooking. It’s a massive passion. Cooking seems to be one of those outlets, a bit like art, for children who struggle with the academic side of school. It really is, you can immerse yourself in it. I think one of the things is the surprise element of cooking, it’s the same curiosity that I get with art, I think that’s what I’ve always had and still have now. I’ve got a childish outlook on life, or let’s say I’ve kept that innocent and curious mindset. You can also take ownership of food, you don’t have to listen to other people. That’s right, I’ve got hundreds of cookery books but I don’t really follow them. I take bits from them and then make something my own – I love using fire and cooking outside. I’m quite happy cooking for 100 people on a fire pit quite easily.

Your career has taken a few turns, so tell me, if you were filling out a passport application form, when you get to the part that says job title, what would you put? Artist. Hmmm…Creative Director. Sorry – you can’t put 2. Artist! That’s very hard. I thought it would be, that’s why I wanted to ask you. Yeah – good question. So, how long have you been an artist? I actually started saying I am an artist about a year ago. Did you wake up one day and say, that’s it, I’m now an artist, or was it a case of building up a certain amount of work, or… I’ve always painted, I’ve always exhibited in group shows, in places like Tokyo and New York, but they were always a side hustle whilst I was working at creative agencies. I’ve always wanted to be an artist though, since I was a kid. Were you always drawing? Yeah, always. I was drawn more towards the graphic side because I liked how disruptive it could be. I was inspired by people like Jamie Reid, whose work for the Sex Pistols completely blew my mind – how a few words could be so disruptive. That really turned me on to graphics and my graphic work definitely wasn’t traditional. It never has been. It’s very much been influenced by subcultures, punk, skate and propaganda – I brought that into the commercial world. At that time, Josh Jones and I started our art ‘zine, Pavement Licker, which was a platform for us to publish people’s work before the age of the internet and gradually I found myself also doing more painting. Then, we cut to 6 years ago when we moved down to Kent from London.

So, was that a real transition point? It was a massive transition because I now had this studio space and I’ve never felt so inspired as I am in Kent. I think it’s a combination of the sense of space, the people we’ve met and maybe also my age. I’ve lost that need to be disruptive. I’m a parent now with responsibilities. It sounds strange, but I think moving to London at the age that I did was a kind of badge of honour – it was what I always wanted to do, I wanted to be around those sorts of people. I wanted to hang out in the Dragon Bar and meet all those creative people. Leaving was like, fuck, I’m leaving London, my identity is going to go, but we moved here and 2 days later, I was over it. I started painting in my downtime and then during lock down, was painting an awful lot more. The commercial work wasn’t with the agencies anymore, I was working for my own clients, doing projects that I wanted to do – collaborations with drink and fashion brands, great projects and I felt in control, so my art output increased as well.

At that time, we bought Popeye (James points behind him, to the Test Your Strength Popeye that is standing behind him, overlooking proceedings) from a gallery in Rye called Ashbees 100. The owner, Justin, is an amazing character and he came down to deliver Popeye and we got talking. He saw my artwork and asked if I would ever think about having it in the gallery. I said I’m up for that, but I’m not quite ready yet. Two years later, I woke up and Kate, my wife, asked me what I wanted to do for 2023 as it was New Year. I said, I really want to be an artist. A couple of days later Justin called and said, ‘so, are we doing this or not?’ and it snowballed from there. I love what he does, I love his gallery, I love Rye, I spent a lot of time there as a child, so it connects perfectly with my work and it’s also super exciting to now be working on a new body of work.

Coming from your design background, do you still need a brief to work to or has that changed? I need a brief, whatever form that takes. I need a sense of achievement, finishing something and then moving on to the next thing. I can’t just come in here and flop about, do a bit of painting, have a sleep on the sofa and then go to the pub. I’d feel like I’d let myself and everyone else down. That work ethic 100% applies to my painting. I had a day in the studio yesterday and managed to complete 2 paintings – I wanted to do much more but you know, actually, looking at them, I’m super happy. So, I’m almost re-tuning my mind, if that makes sense. Years of working at agencies where you’ve got deadlines has been ingrained in me.

I actually first saw your work in Ashbees 100. The first thing I did when I walked into the gallery was start smiling. I’ve shown your work to other people since and they’ve done the same thing, so I’m trying to understand why that is. There’s a familiarity with the subjects but, primarily, I think there’s this sense that it was painted with such pleasure, energy and raw emotion – that creates the emotional response. That’s lovely. When I look at your work and you tell me that they take several hours to complete, that’s a shock because what you’ve managed to achieve is the ability to draw and paint as a child would – that sounds terrible but… No, that sounds wonderful. It’s a massive compliment. I think that’s the beauty of your work – you are drawn in on one level and then having passed that initial emotional reaction, you quickly begin to question what the conceptual starting point of the piece was. That’s huge Matt, thank you. I appreciate it a lot.

Although you’re dyslexic, when you look at both your design and art work, it feels that words play a major part? Very much so and the simpler, more structured, the better. They’re such powerful things and although I don’t really read them, I see them as visual objects, if that makes sense. The impact they have and the story they tell is super important. I can see the logo for your art ‘zine Pavement Licker behind you. Where did that name come from? There’s actually not much to that one, if I’m being really honest. I was walking along Charlotte Street, listening to Windowlicker by Apex Twin, and I thought I really like the name Pavement Licker. The name sticks with you, right? It works really well graphically but I like the idea that it sticks in someone’s mind, once you hear it, you can’t get it out. Is it still just as important that the words you use for your artwork are really considered? Definitely, but it’s intuitive, it comes from a gut emotion. I see it and I know if it feels right.

I’ve got a childish outlook on life, or let’s say I’ve kept that innocent and curious mindset.

Do you read a lot? No, not really. I mean the room’s full of books, but that’s because I love books. There is a connection there and in a weird way, I’m collecting more because I’m dyslexic. I see them as a challenge but also, I’m old school, so they are points of reference. If I want to reference a particular artist or genre, or if I’m working on a design brief, I will go to my books. I don’t just go to Google and drag a load of pictures off. I love that connection with things, books are tactile. I don’t think you can work from a mood board on a screen in the same way as you can with physical objects. Very much so, especially because we were both taught at a time where you didn’t jump on a Mac straight away. It was pen and paper first and that’s where I think it all links back to my artwork, which is very tactile. It’s got an emotional energy to it and is something you almost want to touch – you want to feel it? And it doesn’t feel precious. The piece you’re currently working on in here is literally screwed to a board. I like how bits fall off or you get a smudge on it. I have just used screws to hold it in place so there are holes and it’s a bit battered. For me, it’s living and breathing, it comes alive. Even when I frame it, it’s float mounted so the paper moves depending on the room temperature – so, even then the work comes alive.

The perfectionists out there must find that so frustrating! I know. I do ruffle some feathers with traditional artists because I’m not a trained artist, I’m completely self-taught. For this piece, the brushes had their ends cut off and they became so clogged up that they were flicking paint, they were no longer brushes but more like sticks. I like to bastardise brushes in that way so that I get different results. I respect tradition and I have a love for it – my father was a copper-plate engraver by trade and ended his career in antiques and painting restoration, and that’s very much a skill set that I find incredible, but I’m not a traditionalist. My younger brother is a complete craftsman – his work is so detailed, it’s the polar opposite of mine, but I completely respect that.

What did your mum do? She went to art school and did what would now be called interior design. She had a studio at home where she would screen print materials for things like furnishings. When I was about 2, she was approaching a deadline and I was basically being the annoying kid and climbing all over her so she naturally told me off, but that made her stop and question what she was doing – I wanted children so I can’t blame him for having this deadline. As a result of that, she completely stopped working so she could bring up her 3 boys. She was an incredible mother, very creative – both my parents are very creative. They were antique dealers and had antique shops, so that’s probably why I collect so much stuff. I think my brothers have almost rebelled against that but, as you can see, I’ve definitely gone with it.

So, what’s next for you? If I remember correctly, your last pieces were predominantly blue and black? That was for a series called, ‘the best days of my life’ which was based on school. Hang on – the best days of your life and school. Is that irony? Complete irony. Yeah. There is definitely an ode to the Cookie Monster in that series and that’s about that familiar friend I had when I went home to watch Sesame Street. And also fountain pen ink because that’s what we used at school then. Yes! I can remember… Pen ink fights, right? That’s why there is flicked ink on the pieces. I remember being at the front of the class in primary school when a friend dared me to do the fountain pen flick. There was a large map on the wall in front of us – the ink splatted all the way down it. I was panicking so much but I don’t think the teacher ever noticed. He must have thought they were just little islands I guess! Sorry, nostalgia trip – please carry on…But it’s the energy of that sort of thing that has lasted with me and it’s a beautiful material to use. I also like the fact that some of it can fade over time.

Your pieces are all about strong mark making. Absolutely, some of it’s very thick, some is crossed out and it’s often quite heavy-handed. I think a lot of it comes from my writing because, being dyslexic, my handwriting is absolutely terrible. Having to use a biro or fountain pen at school was so difficult and I couldn’t spell the words, so I ended up just making shapes. I thought it might look like the word I was trying to write. I would just add a line through some letters, or whatever it was, to try and hide the fact that I couldn’t write or spell, which is ironic because my handwriting has actually been used on a number of projects – across billboards, in books, etc because it’s perceived as something else. You have just pointed at your new book on your desk – can we talk about that because I’ve read a little bit about it and would love to learn more. I have to be honest with you, I hadn’t heard of the Dragon Bar before. A lot of people haven’t, but it was probably the start of street art in the UK. I guess that’s quite a bold statement to make, but it was certainly a major influence. It was in Leonard Street, at the top end of East London, by Old Street. East London was very different then compared to now, with areas like Shoreditch. There were a lot of printers and artists there, people like Tracey Emin, the Chapman Brothers and Gavin Turk had all moved there, but it was a bit of a no-go area really. No ‘suits’ were allowed in the bar. There was a guy called JJ, who was a fashion designer and artist, he would be on the door and if a suit tried to get in, he used to cut their ties off and send them on their way. He was a big guy who didn’t take any nonsense.

It was an amazing place, out the back was covered in graffiti. A lot of graffiti writers in London and abroad just came to paint there, people like Ben Eine used to drink and run the bar there, Banksy had his first Santa’s Ghetto there, Faile and Bäst from New York had their first UK shows there as well. There was a gallery upstairs where Justin Piggott would put on shows of anyone’s work that he liked. It was a den where everyone could hang out and be free and do exactly what they wanted to, really. That must have been such a melting pot of ideas and would have contributed to a generation of creatives. Massively so, if you think of the magazines that were produced around there at the time – Dazed & Confused, The Shoreditch Twat, iD and Sleazenation – it was a real melting pot of creativity. When I first moved to Hackney, a friend took me there and that was it, I wasn’t going anywhere else! How old were you then? 22. Was it what you wanted life to be like but you had never seen it before. Absolutely, it was that classic case of growing up in suburbia. There’s nothing wrong with that at all, but when you’re creative, you’re drawn to the city, to like-minded individuals and places where you want to try exciting new things. Even going to the toilets in the Dragon Bar, you were allowed to paint all over the walls, so I met loads of artists whilst having a pee!!

How is your art developing now, you said you’re exploring new directions? I’ve now got some prints with Glassette, Laura Jackson’s interior market place website, and that’s definitely talking to a slightly different market. Dare I say it, it’s more feminine, it’s softer and I’m starting to look at new paintings in that way, so they are a lot more colourful. I’m still keeping my characters in there, but it’s a bit more playful – it’s me exploring. I’m still doing the heavier stuff, but I don’t want to sit still, it’s that thing of keeping things moving forward. If I’m sitting still, then I feel I’m a failure. I try to bring a new material or technique to every project. Everything still looks like my work, you could definitely put them side by side and would still tell they were by me, but I need to be trying different things. The curiosity is always burning, you know? That new work should hopefully be ready in a couple of months. And is your work selling well? Really well, and that’s the most exciting thing. When you put your work out there and your friends and family say it’s great, it’s amazing, we love it – a part of me is still thinking, you’re just saying that because it’s mine. We were away recently and I got a phone call from the gallery to say that they had just sold several of my pieces to just 1 customer. The fact that someone who doesn’t know me has bought some of my work, whether that’s several pieces as in this case, or just a single print, is an amazing feeling because it’s so personal.

Before you were an artist, you were a Creative Director. Was your non-conformist outlook part of your success at that time? I definitely had that edge, for sure. The clients I worked for were mostly drinks brands and the like, so I could push the boundaries. It wasn’t advertising as such, it was more like experiential PR, so I could be more playful. I worked at a company called Cake when I first moved to London, which was the first disruptive youth marketing agency there was. In that environment, how did the suits react to you – those people whose lives revolve around spread sheets and profit margins but who knew they needed unconventional thinkers like you to help them – were they accepting of your ideas? They were, but it’s changed. It used to be exciting because clients would trust you and give you free rein but like most things, it’s now more client led and they push you in a certain direction. It’s the same in the film industry, it’s led by the finance guys rather than the director, who has very little say in it – unless you’re someone like Tarantino.

I was a little surprised earlier when you said that you didn’t miss London. I’m wondering if that’s because London has changed and as a result, it’s no longer as appealing to you. Yes, 100%. I don’t think it’s an age thing for me, it’s lost the grit and rawness, it’s definitely been white washed. Yeah, the energy has gone a bit, the excitement of going around a corner and not quite knowing what you’re going to see. That’s exactly it. Do you still go to London? Yes, definitely, but for pleasure. I still get that excitement of a 19 year old boy from suburbia catching the train up to the bright lights, but now I get just as much excitement knowing that I’m coming back to Kent. Smelling the fresh air. Yeah, that’s it. I absolutely love Kent. I always have. And it’s weird, I always knew that I would end up living here.

…I met loads of artists whilst having a pee!

Editor’s Notes

The playlist below, created by James and Josh Jones, is an oral history of the London’s iconic Dragon Bar – the birth of the street art movement. Click here to purchase The Dragon Bar Book.