The current exhibition at the marvellous Rogue Gallery on Norman Road brings us three separate, quite different artists who are nevertheless tied together by one extraordinary fact: they are mother, daughter and granddaughter. And though we do not really think artiness trickles through our bloodlines, there is something curious going on in this exhibition in that all three women seem to have inherited a Bohemianism of the soul and indeed, of the wardrobe. All three have said, ‘up yours’ to bourgeois bondage and lived their lives with the colour control turned up to eleven.

TEASING TULIPS

The original fountainhead of all this paint-splattered rebellion is Molly Parkin. Molly exploded on to the London fashion scene in the1960s, becoming a fashion editor with a mission to “tease the edges of taste”, as Dennis Hackett put it. But she was so much more: a painter, novelist, controversialist and fab hat maker. She caused a storm of self-righteous indignation in the seventies when her novel Up Tight appeared with a cover showing a French model in see-through knickers. Her paintings in the show revel in colour. Molly’s works enjoy a bit of a mess and she makes the hues dance and rebound off each other. Black Tulips, in particular, has a perfect tension between exotic pattern and splodge.

The work of her daughter, Sophie Parkin, heads off in other directions. Some of it is underpinned by mythological themes such as Persephone Returns and Hoisted by the Ancients, and yet there are whispers of other ideas and appetites at work. Oranges Are the Only Fruit has a muscular sort of force to it. Control edges out mum’s messiness. Sophie’s monoprints are very striking; we particularly liked The Ever Growing Cat Inside My Head. Like her mother, she has somehow invented multiple versions of herself: she is a novelist, poet, painter, journalist and even a social historian. Her book on Bohemian Soho did much to illuminate that lost world.

MAGICAL RETURNS

The youngest of this trio is Carson Parkin-Fairley. Her work revolves around the notion that ‘we are all icons,’ and we all have an inherent tendency to imbue people and objects with meaning that go beyond the mere mundane. She exploits the fact that image-making is also a kind of magic. As one of her intriguing titles puts it, Magical Things Happen Here. Fittingly, the granddaughter uses an image of the young Molly, in her lurid flapper look, as an obvious almost silver-screen icon. In that image there is a strange return to the well-spring. Perhaps.

It is impossible to do justice to the unique vision of each of these powerful women, and yet to grasp that somehow they are bound by some brilliant bohemian thread. In a sense, much of the aesthetic of this show seems connected to Molly Parkin’s original, fabulous advice on dressing, “just fling on any old thing, so long as it’s clashy.”

The Parkin Lot continues until 15 June 

The wonderful Rogue Gallery has moved. It is now to be found opposite the Kino-Teatr on Norman Road in St Leonards. The charismatic gallery owner, Ray Gange, is launching his new art-space with a knockout showing of the paintings of the highly acclaimed British painter Ray Richardson.

THE POETRY OF CORTINAS

Richardson’s paintings take us into a bygone world of blokedom. Dodgy men and distinctly dated cars are beautifully arranged into canvases that drip with the visual poetry of geezerland. His compositional skill is stunning: he divides canvases in ways that make his pictures buzz with a weird cinematic drama: the paintings are almost film-stills. You half expect Jason Statham or maybe even Bob Hoskins to be at a diagonal to a Ford Cortina. Or The Sweeney to crash the frame.

Yet his work is about more than tough types. There is an oddness to this world: not a landscape of urban anti-heroes: it is more spaced out, more like retro-gangsters go on a mystery tour.

And then there is Brian. Brian is Richardson’s English bull terrier who was very present on opening night. He features in many of the works. In many ways Brian seems the perfect creature for this south-east London world that is always tinged with menace. He seems like the living embodiment of Bill Sikes’ dog ‘Bullseye’ from Oliver Twist (Dickens would surely love this show!) But, as with so much about Ray, Brian the dog is not what he seems: we found him to be an utterly delightful chap with more interest in his master’s bag of carrots than the dark arts of doggydom.

PAINTING IN ENGLISH

It is perhaps a bit too easy to get carried away in defining Ray’s swarthy South London milieu. The ‘sarf London’ stuff can be overdone. What struck us most is that he is just such a great painter. He draws with great economy but simultaneously with constant little surprises and technique twists, like oil-wash over conte crayon. The painter he most reminded us of was R B Kitaj but without all the loud Americana. He has Kitaj’s deft outlines and flat colour, but there is almost always that indefinable English tang. The taste of the estuary. 

He is, ultimately, unique. He has gone his own way over a lifetime of painting – as if art trends and theories were just so much pointless hot air, which of course, they are. Never mind the bull terriers, go and see it!

The show ‘Londain’t’ is on at Rogue Gallery, 42 Norman Road, until 10 November. For more information: rogue-gallery.co.uk/exhibits/londaint-by-ray-richardson

We Are All Mothers is a series of drawings and paintings that tell stories of the Gazan people over the past several months. The work, using charcoal and oils, focuses on their insufferable experiences, and asks us to acknowledge our shared connection and common humanity. The series captures the depth of human emotions, struggles and resilience. 

In the titles, the inclusion of imagery of little birds in the hand, reinforces the idea of our collective responsibility to protect and care for one another, transcending borders and differences.

We are all bound, we are all accountable. We are all mothers.

We Are All Mothers, an exhibition of paintings and drawings by Jessica Brox, is showing at Rogue Gallery, 65 Norman Road. The artist’s proceeds will go to the charity Medical Aid For Palestinians roguegallery65@gmail.com 07861354140

If dear old Noel Coward were still alive and, by some very odd twist, he was the Chancellor of the Exchequer, he would doubtless introduce today’s budgets with his jaunty musical ode to pessimism, ‘there are bad times just around the corner and the outlook is absolutely vile.’ But, in St Leonards we are not so easily daunted. In fact, for Ray Gange the idea that we should all be cowed by prognostications of global doom is just so much Tory self-excusing twaddle. And so, Ray is going to open up his new Rogue Gallery at number 65 Norman Road, come hell or slight drizzle. It is, undoubtedly, a brave call.

Goodfellas by Ray Gange

For a man with a highly developed sense of humour, Gange seems deadly serious about this venture. He is aiming both to offer a showcase for local artists and bring in the best from outside. He says he has, “always toyed with the idea of opening a proper gallery” and just decided that “I need to do something to make me feel alive.” Perhaps the sense that this may be a highly risky time to bet on the art farm, only gives it more of a kick. 

The Rogue Gallery opens on December 1 with a show of the work of the highly regarded photographer Jasper James. Prior to settling in St Leonards a few years ago, James lived and work in the Far East for ten years and his sharp-eyed photographs bring into focus a part of the world that seems strangely to be both ancient and futuristic. Certainly, the cityscapes are quite stunning. These vast mega-cities are breathtakingly vast but, the way James deals with it, there is always a sense of the isolated and lonely individual. It should certainly be a thought-provoking exhibition. 

A Jasper James image

Gange is himself a graduate of Chelsea Art College and a dedicated painter and sculptor. His own work is influenced by scenes from the movies and often features snippets of dialogue, but not necessarily dialogue that stems from the particular visual moment. As an artist, he has always had a fascination with the way the film world combines outward glamour with often tatty and tiresome behind-the-scenes realities. Gange was bitten by the film bug when he found himself, as a teenager. asked to play a role in a film involving some mates of his who were in a punk band. That might sound like low-end stuff, but that band was The Clash. And the film, the iconic Rude Boy. Quite a baptism of film. And after that – sort of typical but utterly unbelievably – he found himself in southern Spain taking part in Spaghetti Westerns. There is something wonderful about the image of Ray – a punky Londoner – somewhere in Andalucia learning to ride a horse, cowboy style. But, having made his home in St Leonards, he now finds there is little call for cowboys with a good line in a menacing stare. 

Gange also hopes that the Rogue project will allow him to set up a niche publishing line, that would enable him to put out limited edition collections of creative writing and poetry. We asked him if he would consider selling other items in the shop. He is obviously wary of the dread-hideousness of the inevitable gift shop. He is dead set against that. This is interesting because he is a man who has experience in retailing things like arty T-shirts. He is obviously aware that a gallery has to be something more than a shop full of unusual and expensive stuff. He is well aware of the contradictions of art; that it is often both a commentary on our product-obsessed world and itself product. That successful selling can seem like selling out. 

Ray Gange by Russell Baker

Ray is evidently a very interesting and complex man; happy to move through the various roles life has thrown at him. At the time of our chat, he was well aware that deadlines were rushing at him and the time available was shrinking. And he is also aware that some local folk are less than enthused by art galleries. And doubtless, there will be those that say this, relatively poor, town doesn’t need another gallery. But as he says, with more than a hint of the punk suck-it-and-see bravado in his eye, “here we just do our own thing.” Vile outlooks or whatever. And do it, he certainly will. It’s a great mantra but maybe tougher to do than to say. Billy Ocean may not be quite punk, but he might well have been talking about Ray Gange when he gave us the lyric-cum-proverb, ‘when the going gets tough…’

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