BARBARA HEPWORTH'S HOUSE - 15 DUKE OF YORK STREET
My idea is to play it hard...
Unusually, the weather has been wonderful this Easter (2019), so I’m taking the opportunity to take a tour of some of Wakefield’s blue plaque sites on this sunny Bank Holiday Monday. I’m not planning on driving everywhere, however. I have a new toy.
Normally, travelling everywhere by car would be my only option, as walking anywhere is a fluctuating yet continual battle with my old rival in life, multiple sclerosis. In the back of the car, though, is a foldable electric mountain bike. It weighs a ton and I have to take a rest after doing no more exercise than squeezing it onto the collapsed back seat, but I’m hoping it’s going to be my passport to some kind of pollution-free freedom.
First on the list is 15 Duke of York St, not far from the city centre and Trinity shopping centre. A non-descript terrace house in a slightly run-down area, this is the house in which one of the city’s most celebrated people was born. Barbara Hepworth was the Wakefield lass who went on to gain an international reputation as a modernist artist and sculptor. True, she didn’t hang around for long once her career took off, and she is associated as much with St Ives as Wakefield, but she apparently remained proud of her Yorkshire roots throughout her life.
Wakefield clearly remembers her too. The odd Hepworth sculpture dotted around the city centre and the presence of this plaque are somewhat dwarfed by the £35 million Hepworth gallery on Chantry Bridge. One of the largest art galleries outside of London, it houses many of her works, as well as bearing her name. Those who have read my HIPS piece on the gallery [HEPWORTH GALLERY BLOG POST] will know that I struggle to get on board the art train, but I’m always interested in how people become successful in their chosen field, particularly if the person is some kind of troubled soul with a dramatic life story. Fortunately, on this score, Barbara Hepworth more than delivers.
She was born in this house on Duke of York Street in 1903. Her father was an ambitious civil engineer for the West Riding County Council who by 1921 was the County Surveyor. This was a middle-class home back then, as evidenced by the fact that Barbara went to Wakefield Girls’ High School. She was exceptionally clever and diligent, but contemporaries describe her as being solitary and aloof. She excelled at music as much as art, but by the age of 15 she had already decided she wanted to become a sculptor.
She won a scholarship to Leeds College of Art
where she met Henry Moore. He became a lifelong friend, but also a rival who at
times she must have resented. He had two distinct advantages over her: he was a
man and was sociable. The reserved Hepworth was destined to spend much
of her time in his shadow, as the art world were drawn to Moore’s flame.
Indeed, for a time, art critics thought Hepworth was Moore’s pupil. This
couldn’t have been further from the truth. She influenced him as much as he
influenced her and it was in fact she who first produced the pierced figures
that are most associated with their sculpture styles (‘the hole in modern
sculpture’ as the ‘Cornwall Guide’ puts it – that’s the kind of art criticism I
can get on board with).
She had to work and fight hard throughout her career to build and maintain her position. It was a struggle being a woman in the very masculine world of sculpture. She once said she felt like a wounded gull being pecked to death by the healthy ones.
Her success inevitably attracted jealousy and back-biting. Some artists suggested she nicked their ideas and presented them as her own. This always seems to happen with anyone who is successful in the creative field. A writer makes millions from a series of books about a bespectacled boy wizard and there’s bound to be someone saying, ‘I wrote a book about a boy with glasses years before her.’
Hepworth’s complex character no doubt did nothing to win her doubters over. Some described her as cold and manipulative, but people often take against those who have a dedication to their work that they themselves cannot maintain. She once said that she had decided early on that it was best to ‘devote oneself to work quite ruthlessly… My idea is to play it hard.’
The art world will forever argue over someone’s artistic legacy, but it is clear that Hepworth was one of the most influential artists and sculptors of the 20th century. She was also one of the few female artists to gain international prominence. Regarded by many as the greatest female sculptor in the world at one time, her obituary in ‘The Guardian’ described her as ‘probably the most significant woman artist in the history of art to this day’. It’s notable that even glowing tributes such as these still had to reference the fact that she was a woman. Hepworth herself just wanted to be treated as a sculptor – she would never use the word ‘sculptress’.
Hepworth was awarded a CBE in 1958 and a DBE in 1965 (which gave her the title ‘Dame’)
W-HIPS > W-HIPS > W-HIPS > W-HIPS > W-HIPS >
Wakefield clearly remembers her too. The odd Hepworth sculpture dotted around the city centre and the presence of this plaque are somewhat dwarfed by the £35 million Hepworth gallery on Chantry Bridge. One of the largest art galleries outside of London, it houses many of her works, as well as bearing her name. Those who have read my HIPS piece on the gallery [HEPWORTH GALLERY BLOG POST] will know that I struggle to get on board the art train, but I’m always interested in how people become successful in their chosen field, particularly if the person is some kind of troubled soul with a dramatic life story. Fortunately, on this score, Barbara Hepworth more than delivers.
She was born in this house on Duke of York Street in 1903. Her father was an ambitious civil engineer for the West Riding County Council who by 1921 was the County Surveyor. This was a middle-class home back then, as evidenced by the fact that Barbara went to Wakefield Girls’ High School. She was exceptionally clever and diligent, but contemporaries describe her as being solitary and aloof. She excelled at music as much as art, but by the age of 15 she had already decided she wanted to become a sculptor.
She won a scholarship to Leeds College of Art
where she met Henry Moore. He became a lifelong friend, but also a rival who at
times she must have resented. He had two distinct advantages over her: he was a
man and was sociable. The reserved Hepworth was destined to spend much
of her time in his shadow, as the art world were drawn to Moore’s flame.
Indeed, for a time, art critics thought Hepworth was Moore’s pupil. This
couldn’t have been further from the truth. She influenced him as much as he
influenced her and it was in fact she who first produced the pierced figures
that are most associated with their sculpture styles (‘the hole in modern
sculpture’ as the ‘Cornwall Guide’ puts it – that’s the kind of art criticism I
can get on board with).
 |
Henry Moore - friend & rival |
Her success inevitably attracted jealousy and back-biting. Some artists suggested she nicked their ideas and presented them as her own. This always seems to happen with anyone who is successful in the creative field. A writer makes millions from a series of books about a bespectacled boy wizard and there’s bound to be someone saying, ‘I wrote a book about a boy with glasses years before her.’
The gallery named in honour of Wakefield's famous daughter
Hepworth’s complex character no doubt did nothing to win her doubters over. Some described her as cold and manipulative, but people often take against those who have a dedication to their work that they themselves cannot maintain. She once said that she had decided early on that it was best to ‘devote oneself to work quite ruthlessly… My idea is to play it hard.’
Family life, of course, suffered at the hands of this level of ambition. Her first marriage to a fellow sculptor ended in divorce. An unfortunate twist of fate meant this unmaternal, work-obsessed woman gave birth to triplets not long after marrying her second husband, painter Ben Nicholson. The children were soon being farmed out to be looked after by others and were then packed off to boarding school. When the war intervened and the whole family were forced to co-exist in St Ives, tensions soon mounted. Nicholson finally moved out 10 years later and they divorced soon after.
It’s clear that the only marriage which could prosper in Hepworth’s life was the one she enjoyed with her art. Her relationships with her children were equally tainted with tragedy. Her eldest son, Paul, was killed in 1953 in a plane crash while on duty with the RAF in Thailand. She cut another son, Simon, out of her will. His sin in his mother’s eyes? He intended to sell one of her sculptures that she had given him. He died of alcohol poisoning aged just 55.
In her later years in St Ives, Hepworth suffered from ill health herself. She appeared frail and was drinking heavily, presumably partly to cope with the considerable amount of pain she had been dealt in life. But she still managed to keep working within the physically demanding medium of sculpture.
She also enjoyed smoking last thing at night. She would swallow a sleeping pill, which would take 15 minutes to take effect, and while she waited to drop off she would light a fag. What could possibly go wrong?
One May night in 1975, Barbara Hepworth smoked her last cigarette. She burnt to death, aged 72, surrounded by her work.
It’s clear that the only marriage which could prosper in Hepworth’s life was the one she enjoyed with her art. Her relationships with her children were equally tainted with tragedy. Her eldest son, Paul, was killed in 1953 in a plane crash while on duty with the RAF in Thailand. She cut another son, Simon, out of her will. His sin in his mother’s eyes? He intended to sell one of her sculptures that she had given him. He died of alcohol poisoning aged just 55.
In her later years in St Ives, Hepworth suffered from ill health herself. She appeared frail and was drinking heavily, presumably partly to cope with the considerable amount of pain she had been dealt in life. But she still managed to keep working within the physically demanding medium of sculpture.
She also enjoyed smoking last thing at night. She would swallow a sleeping pill, which would take 15 minutes to take effect, and while she waited to drop off she would light a fag. What could possibly go wrong?
One May night in 1975, Barbara Hepworth smoked her last cigarette. She burnt to death, aged 72, surrounded by her work.
Note little white stick between fingers that caused her death
W-HIPS > W-HIPS > W-HIPS > W-HIPS > W-HIPS >
The art world will forever argue over someone’s artistic legacy, but it is clear that Hepworth was one of the most influential artists and sculptors of the 20th century. She was also one of the few female artists to gain international prominence. Regarded by many as the greatest female sculptor in the world at one time, her obituary in ‘The Guardian’ described her as ‘probably the most significant woman artist in the history of art to this day’. It’s notable that even glowing tributes such as these still had to reference the fact that she was a woman. Hepworth herself just wanted to be treated as a sculptor – she would never use the word ‘sculptress’.
Hepworth was awarded a CBE in 1958 and a DBE in 1965 (which gave her the title ‘Dame’)
Testament to her international reputation is the fact that the New York Times also ran a sizeable article upon her death. Her casting, ‘Single Form’, stands outside the United Nations building in the city. Hepworth’s work is represented in more than a hundred public collections around the world, including in Canada and the Netherlands, as well as of course England and the rest of the UK. A ‘Hepworth’ can also still fetch a hefty sum. ‘Figure for Landscape’ sold in 2014 for four million pounds.
W-HIPS > W-HIPS > W-HIPS > W-HIPS > W-HIPS >
I feel a little self-conscious taking a few photographs outside the house. Was that a twitch of the curtains I saw upstairs? Part of me is thinking, if you don’t want this kind of attention, don’t live in a house with a blue plaque on it, but I’m aware that I may not be considered a person with a healthy interest in history and art, but rather a nuisance who should mind his own business.
There’s nowhere to park round here if you’re not a resident, so after my big introduction about my new electric bike, it remains in the car for the time being. I take some more photos out of the window – a kind of drive-by shooting – and head off to find somewhere to transfer onto two wheels.
