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‘Lwe are short, art is long,” says Ken Turner, reading in a book about the words written by the ancient Greek physician Hippocrates.” And he is right, actually, because at 100 years old – and possibly the world’s oldest artist – art has been long, but life has not been too short for him, either. he can make them go.
In the 1960s, Turner moved from painting to popular public art, creating large-scale sculptures that visitors could sit in and interact with years before deep art became a thing. He was trained by Fernand Léger, was a friend of John Berger, made the frames of Frank Auerbach and Leon Kossoff. Last year, he drove a tank over Tesla in a play that was meant as a protest against corporate greed and rising power. His has been a life of rebellion and change, strictly following his artistic path regardless of the obstacles he faces, no matter how easy it would have been to walk down the well-trodden path.
He has written two books: Crashing Culture and the best-selling A Life Being Ken Turner. The two names of the two positions combine him perfectly; he breaks art down to the smallest detail, while being unique, determined and alone. And he’s still at it: still performing, still painting, still creating. Ahead of an exhibition of new work at the Wharfside Arts Hub in Penzance, he sits in his kitchen talking about his life and work, wearing a blue work shirt and cap. The Michael Eavis-esque mustache makes him look like the Cornwall figure that he is. We’re joined by his son, filmmaker Huw Wahl, whose loving portrayal of his father plays around in the show. “I think his photography is growing, in a way, because he’s starting to play,” Wahl says. “But Ken was always childish, wise.”
“I’ve always been interested in the idea of imagination, and the idea of sports as an education in itself,” says Turner. “When you go to university, you forget to play, and playing is very important.”
Turner has a lot to say, a lot of stories to tell, as you would expect after 80 years of making art. Dates and names may escape him now, but his words keep coming out. He finds it hard to talk about his feelings and the thinking behind a lot of work, but maybe even at 100 years old he’s still working it all out. His art is not fiction. He doesn’t seem comfortable looking back when there is so much to look forward to.
Turner was drafted into the mines at the outbreak of World War II, eventually joining the Royal Engineers. He discovered that he wanted to create art, but he was very skeptical of established art and refused a place at London’s Slade School of Fine Art because he didn’t like the color of the walls. If they cannot distinguish the color of the walls, how can they educate people? He says. Later, he refused to take his final exams at Regent Street Polytechnic because he was expected to paint spectacularly, and turned down invitations to exhibit in West End art galleries. “I didn’t like the vendors, I thought they smelled, they looked crooked, and they were monsters in their own right.” Always, Turner has pushed back against expectations: “I’m not a revolutionary, I’m a rebel, really.”
Instead, Turner worked in construction before becoming a teacher at Barnet College and eventually Central Saint Martins. In the late 1960s, an encounter with a community project by theater director Joan Littlewood inspired him to create Action Space, an art group that aims to take art out of the glass and into the public’s reach. They described themselves as “an association of artists who work in the community, through education and sport, to create art that resonates with the masses”. He created large vertical sculptures that you can walk through and act in, he uses light, sound, movement and drama, he puts on activities for children. This was the art of social thinking, the art of engaging with people ahead of time.
“Well, that’s the conscience I have,” Turner says when asked about creating art for the public. “I almost cry because of the difference it makes.” Action Space was about finding ways to connect with non-traditional, artistic people. But rejecting the established model for working in disadvantaged towns was also a continuation of his rebellion. “It made sense, it was in my bones to reject the ideas of the institutions.” Action Space still exists today, in one form or another, as a charity working with learning disabled professionals, including Turner Prize winner Nnena Kalu.
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It was also at this time that Turner found his love of art, a passion that reached last year when he drove a 15 tonne tank on top of a Tesla in a project run by the founders of Art Guided by Donkeys. “There is no difference between acting and painting for me,” he says. “I draw when I draw, I draw when I draw.” And age will not prevent this – he will play at the opening of the show together with his daughter.
Turner moved to Cornwall in the 1990s and rediscovered his love of playing with brushes and oils, rekindling his passion for painting. It’s still his main form of creativity, although it comes with its own challenges: “I’m still at a point where I need to sell art, but I don’t want to go to the West End to sell. That’s the art industry. I don’t really like critics, and you’re not a critic, are you?”
He seems disappointed by my answer. That old skepticism about the art establishment is raising its head again. “Well, look at the artwork, and then decide who’s going to buy it,” he says. So I do it. They are big, big, messy, sometimes chaotic, sometimes violent, very emotional and overwhelming things. They deal with the destruction of Gaza, the result of the emergency; they don’t make it look easy. “I think museums should buy it,” Turner says. “He advises people, he talks about the sadness of the world, the development of violence and inequality that is happening.”
He cares deeply about the world, and thinks that art can help change things for the better. Is believing in the power of art what keeps him moving forward? “Even though I am 100 years old, I will be almost 110 and I will continue to paint, because it is written: ‘This is the way, you must go.’ It’s a word inside.
It is also important. “If I didn’t (make art), I would die. It gives me life. If I don’t paint, I get sick, I get sick in my mind, and it’s not good.” Even at 100 years old, you get the feeling that as long as he has talent in his life, Ken Turner can go on forever.
Ken Turner at 100: 100 Years of Cultural Damage is at Wharfside Arts Hub, Penzance, until 4 August.
