A Visit to Michael Challenger's Studio 26/09/2024

Michael Challenger has lived and worked in his studio above in London Bridge since 1976. Jon and I paid him a visit on a Tuesday afternoon to chat with him about his life and work. The sounds of the market carry up to Challenger’s living room as we settle in with a cup of tea. He is particularly pleased with his mugs, gifted by one of his daughters, which are adorned with slogans such as ‘Stop Messing About’ and ‘Stop Doing That’ (very relevant to Jon, in my humble opinion). Challenger’s warm welcome is complemented by the homely feel of the space and the tens of painted sculptures scattered about in the living room / studio space. In case you are not familiar with his work, Challenger creates geometric shapes in various block colours, either as part of paintings or 3D shapes stood on plinths. The geometric maquettes are splendid in and of themselves, but when presented together they are eye-catching. I’ve seen so many images of Challenger’s work that it’s almost surreal to see so many lined up below the fire place.



The room is mindfully decorated. It reminds me of my recent trip to Kettle’s yard, Cambridge, where I was struck by Jim and Helen Ede’s meticulous curation. In Kettle’s Yard, no art work is given preference over others, and the same is true of Challenger’s studio. In pride of place is a collection of artworks by his granddaughter (my favourite of which is a Christmas tree painted in the style of Challenger’s geometrical maquettes). Meanwhile, his works are relegated to barricading his record collection in on the floor.



Our first point of conversation is about colour. The three maquettes promoted to a position on the piano are monochromatic, which Challenger says are part of some new experiments. He is constantly pushing the boundaries of what is ‘enough’, or if it really ‘could be that simple’. One of the main lessons Challenger talks about in his artistic career is that of taking away. It’s easy to assume that with experience comes ever-increasing complexity, but the opposite is true of Challenger’s work. He quotes Antoine De Saint-Exupéry (author of The Little Prince): ‘Perfection is achieved, not when there is nothing more to add, but when there is nothing left to take away’. I immediately think of Coco Chanel telling us, ‘Before you leave the house, look in the mirror and take one thing off’, but that is because I am eternally able to lower the tone. Regardless, the sentiment is the same. The boldest move is that of resting assured in one’s talents, and being confident enough to start taking away. And Challenger, after over 60 years of painting, is still working at this.



One of the best things about a casual interview format is that tangents are equally inevitable and interesting. Whilst in conversation, Challenger asks us if we know why the figurative, and highly un-Challenger-esque portrait of his daughter is above his mantelpiece. It is a beautiful portrait, and yet so different to the geometric maquettes we are surrounded by. This initiates a fascinating story of Rebecca Hossack ringing Challenger up in 1988 and asking if he fancied a 6 month trip to Saudi Arabia. This trip required him to re-affirm his ability to paint portraits, hence this one of his daughter. We are then sidelined into fascinating anecdotes about his trip to Jeddah, but for the sake of this interview’s pithiness, I sadly must omit them. He shows us photographs of him sketching in the streets and talks fondly about his relationship with the people he met there. I ask if it informed his style at all, to which he says no, but we arrive at the conclusion that all experiences inform our art, in some way or another.



I am intrigued by this glimpse of Challenger’s older artwork – figurative and more muted in tone. I ask how he found his style. Challenger grew up in wartime Ramsgate and, after school, he worked for five years in an aircraft factory called Vickers Armstrong. In the last two years of his apprenticeship there, Challenger found out that he was able to be what is known as a ‘technical artist’. He could look at blueprints and instantly recreate a scaled, 3D drawing of them on paper. Humbly, he tells us that lots of people can do this. I, for one, know I could not. He very kindly heads upstairs to find us some of his original aircraft drawings, which are mind-bogglingly precise. Challenger finds it funny that many people look at his art and tell him that this history in technical drawing explains his geometric creations. But for him, it’s the other way around. He would only have done this job in technical artistry if he was going on to create his maquettes. This was Challenger’s first introduction to art. He talks about the years following, and how going to London, and to the V&A, was a bit like a starving person going to a banquet. He says this with a cheeky smile and a giggle.



Challenger’s love of music also crops up, which makes sense given the room we are sat in. In pride of place is his Bechstein piano, hemmed in by shelves of sheet music and records. Philip Glass, John Cage and Arvo Pärt dominate the selection. His references, when talking about painting, often revert to composers, Beethoven in particular. He participated in what used to be called the ‘Big Draw’, during which he worked with the ‘Musicians from the Age of Enlightenment’ in sessions with children. A couple of the musicians (a clarinettist and a violinist) once dared him to come up with a composition that they could play in the next ten minutes. Challenger did a couple of drawings on A3, which were then held in front of the musicians to play before the audience. He shows us one of the videos of this, alongside the original drawing, and it is bewitching.



I ask Challenger about how he sees the relationship between music and art. After some contemplation, he says that he supposes that it is just about ‘the way you think’. He talks about watching the Scottish Symphony Orchestra playing (he thinks) some Bruckner, and how the different parts of the orchestra chiming in at different times remind him of geometry. As Challenger speaks, I see that the separate orchestral roles becoming a whole is just the same as his shapes existing together to become a whole. Challenger is so eloquent about this, and yet he is tentative about this definition. Despite his experience, both in music and art, this relationship’s facets still demand his exploration. I have to admit that I couldn’t leave without asking him to play something. After informing us he ‘wasn’t very good’ (of course, untrue), he played us a beautiful extract from Philip Glass’ Metamorphosis: Five. It was completely mesmerising, especially in the presence of so much of his work.



I could very happily write about this interview for a lot longer, but in the interest of brevity, I cannot. The main element of our discussion that stayed with me after we all said our farewells was Challenger’s infectious enthusiasm. He is still so curious about and so interested in his work and the wider art world. Even now, he is experimenting and pushing the boundaries of his own art. I ask whether he’s had ever had doubts during his career in painting. He tells me that no, becoming an artist was like entering ‘a greenhouse and experiencing all of its rich influences’. It leaves me with this vision of artists as part of a fantastically fertile, warm and creative world, despite the difficulties involved, and I find that very inspiring.



Text by Emily Godwin, photos by Jon Archdeacon.