Keith Piper, Donald Rodney and the Artists' Response to the Archive

Keith Piper and Donald Rodney 'The Next turn of the Screw' (detail), 1987 Photo credit: Eddie Chambers

This article will look at how two artists - Keith Piper and Donald Rodney - have used archival images within their practice. Within this text I'll be considering the making of one particular piece of work by Piper, in 1981 and one piece of work by the pair, in 1987. As someone with my own interest in the archive, I'm especially interested in the ways in which artists respond to the notion of 'history', and their place within that 'history'. Within the specific pieces under consideration - as well as in other work the artists made - they have in effect created history by responding to what were, at the time, contemporary events, realising perhaps, their 'historical' significance.

Artists themselves are, on occasion, great collectors of material and ephemera. To all intents and purposes these artists are themselves not only archivists, but archives and repositories of knowledge and information. This text will seek to explore some of the ways in which Piper and Rodney sought to utilise this material, in the making of their work. I'd also like to consider the ways in which they attempted to reinscribe history. Not rewrite it, but unpick it and reassemble it, being mindful of the ways in which certain people have been written out of history, or been the victims of historians' (and society's) prejudices and ignorance.

'History' is of immense importance to certain artists, as can be witnessed by the fascinating ways in which they historicize contemporary events, or utilise archival images within their practice. This text will also, in part, be a consideration of what notions and constructs such as the 'archive' and 'history' meant to Piper and Rodney. It is also my intention to consider the idea of 'history' as cultural memory and the ways in which this counters abusive or discriminatory hegemonic accounts of history.

When it comes to ideas of the artist as archivist, Donald Rodney would take some beating. Rodney, who died in 1998, was a prolific collector of newspapers, magazines, books, gadgets, and much much more. In fact, Rodney was a collector of stuff, stuff that took many forms. Amongst the 'stuff' he had amassed was a collection of globes of the world. All sorts of sizes and all sorts of ages. Being bed-bound and hospitalised for weeks and months at a time did not prevent or limit Rodney's compulsion to get his hands on and collect an almost bewildering assortment of material. For her contribution to the catalogue to accompany Rodney's 9 Night in Eldorado exhibition ¹, artist Virginia Nimarkoh created an exhaustive inventory of the 'Contents of [his] Bed space, Kings College Hospital, 29.5.97'. Nimarkoh divided Rodney's impromptu, bedside archive into a number of sections: Books, Computer Games, CDs, Equipment, Magazines, Materials, Newspapers and finally, Videos. Rodney's newspaper stash included the previous day's Evening Standard, as well as recent and current copies of The Guardian and The Sun newspapers.

Rodney's scrapbooks were full, not only of sketches and ideas for work, but also full of clippings of newspaper articles that interested him. In this regard, he found The Sun to be an invaluable source of material, as much as, if not more so than The Guardian or any other newspaper or magazine. Rodney would comb his newspapers not just for stories or articles on Black people, but more importantly, he would scour these newspapers for indications of the ways in which 'race' was animated. A wide range of articles and news stories tickled, exorcised and intrigued him. He was for example, interested in the ways in which Mike Tyson, one of the towering personalities of the 1980s and 1990s was consistently caricatured and vilified within sections of the mass media as a near sub-human beast and an incorrigible delinquent. Likewise, the ways in which certain newspapers caricatured young Black males as inherently inclined to criminality was of great interest to him. Further to this, the interplay between 'race', 'immigration' and the Black British experience fascinated him. With both cynicism and wit, Rodney would make good use of his newspaper cuttings, and frequently, these articles, cartoons and pictures made their way into his artwork.

Rodney's embrace of the archive and history was nothing new, or recent. From the moment he began to develop a serious interest in painting, he began to familiarise himself with the history of the medium. Speaking in 1987, about embarking on a Fine Art degree course some six or so years earlier, Rodney recalled that 'When I went to Trent, I'd been brought up in the tradition of painting. I knew how to paint. I knew the history of painting. I knew my Picassos; my everything.' ² In knowing this history, Rodney sought not to make work that merely stood outside of this history. Instead, he sought to make work that critiqued that history, whilst simultaneously demanding for himself a place within it. This multiple act - of critiquing history, whilst simultaneously seeking a place within it - was a strategy that lay at the heart of Rodney's embrace of the archive.

Arriving at Trent Polytechnic in 1981, Rodney met, in the year above him, Keith Piper. Embracing both the aesthetics of pop art and the ideology of 'Black Art' (that is, a socially dynamic visual art practice, closely aligned to militant political and cultural agendas of progress for Black people), Piper's practice even as a student was sharp, witty, powerful and engaging. Piper had argued that the work of Black artist/art student should speak to 'the Black experience'. To this end, Piper's work touched on the experiences of Black people in the United States, Africa, and elsewhere in the world. Rodney found himself charmed and persuaded by Piper's position and practice, the two going on to collaborate on a number of occasions. The work and the exhibitions they produced together represented a decisive meeting of minds. In 1987, they issued a statement called 'Piper & Rodney On Theory'. Its opening paragraph read 'In Britains (sic) art schools, where the mythology of individual self-expression is held at a premium, collaborative activity is discouraged. Apart from throwing a spanner into bureaucratic machinery geared to assess the virtuoso, collaborative activities begin to counter many of the negative effects of an individualism which leaves the art student isolated and vulnerable. Supporting collaborative activity has therefore never been in the interest of the art school hierarchy, as many students expressing an interest in working collaboratively have learned to their cost.'

Piper was, even by 1981, a highly skilled and effective user of archival material. An artist with a particularly keen eye, he sourced an astonishingly broad range of material for the making of his art. The range of imagery and paraphernalia Piper sourced for his work included many images from the ongoing history of the fight against apartheid. Throughout the 1980s and well into the 1990s, the struggle against the racist system of apartheid consumed the creative and political energies of many people. Within this context, Piper produced numerous works that sought not only to expose the barbarity and criminality of apartheid, but also the hypocrisy of apartheid's friends, in the upper echelons of British society. To this end, Piper made good use of the hugely important archive of images chronicling the victims of - and resistance to - apartheid. Similarly, Piper sourced a number of images from documentation of the years of the transatlantic slave trade, which occurred between the 17^thand 19^th centuries. But Piper was also interested in decidedly local concerns and to this end also sourced his imagery from British contexts. Indeed, one of his collaborations with Rodney was a 1987 exhibition called Adventures Close To Home.

Keith Piper '13 Killed', 1981 Copyright the artist 2006

Politically, these were heady and difficult days for Black people. Piper knew how to visualise the trauma and dynamism of the times and to this end, he produced some remarkable work. One particular example is his 1981 mixed media piece, '13 Killed'. 1981 was the year of the New Cross Massacre, in which thirteen Black youngsters, attending a birthday party, lost their lives in a suspicious house fire. This was an horrific incident that galvanised the Black community, acutely increasing its sense of identity and purpose. Mystery surrounded the cause of the fire and, in Black circles at least, speculation was rife. There were those who felt that the fire pointed to the work of racist arsonists. After all, arson attacks on the homes of Black and Asian people were not uncommon. In other quarters, an accident or the malicious work of a disgruntled party-goer were cited as possible causes. One thing however, was certain. The aftermath of the tragedy threw into sharp focus an apparent widespread indifference shown to the deaths by the mainstream news media, and important religious or political figures of the day. Even the Queen had no declaration of condolences for the bereaved. This comprehensive expression of indifference deeply offended many within the Black community. Furthermore, there existed the disturbing perception that any efforts made by the police to establish the cause of the fire, or to apprehend possible suspects, appeared unconvincing. In the aftermath of the fire, there existed the sobering realisation that the British establishment appeared indifferent to the sufferings and traumas of Black people.

In '13 Killed', Piper cut up and collaged a newspaper report of the tragedy, overlayering image and text on a powerful background that consisted of a recreation of a burned and charred wall paper and skirting board reminiscent of a typical 'West Indian' domestic environment. Using found materials in such a strikingly original and emotive way, Piper gave form to Black people's tragedy, grief and outrage. This was a work of the most profound empathy, in which Piper paid homage to lives lived and lives lost. Using plain household postcards, Piper penned messages to each of the fire's victims, naming them all and attaching portraits of them to each message. This effectively restored to each victim a humanity and an individuality that seemed robbed from them, not only by the fire itself but by the subsequent apparent indifference. The party at which the tragedy occurred was being held to celebrate the birthday of 16-year-old Yvonne Ruddock. Piper's message to her read 'SEND THIS ONE BACK TO THE PEOPLE! SISTER YVONNE SURVIVED 15 YEARS WITH US IN BABYLON. ON THE DAWN OF HER 16TH YEAR BABYLON SNUFFED HER OUT. SEND THIS ONE BACK TO THE PEOPLE + LET THEM DEMAND AN ANSWER!' Similar messages were penned for the other victims, namely Humphrey Brown, 18, Peter Campbell, 18, Steve Collins, 17, Patrick Cummings, 16, Gerry Francis, 17, Andrew Gooding, 14, Lloyd Richard Hall, 20, Patricia Denise Johnston, 15, Rosalind Henry, 16, Glenton Powell, 15, Paul Ruddock, 22, and Owen Thompson, 16. An infamous episode of history occurred in January 1981. Piper benchmarked that history with a truly remarkable piece of work.

Keith Piper '13 Killed' (detail), 1981 Copyright the artist 2006

One of Piper and Rodney's most compelling and successful collaborations was 'The Next Turn of the Screw'. Like Piper's own '13 Killed', 'The Next Turn of the Screw' was in effect a homage to lives lost or damaged in acts of great violence. The work took the form of an installation, painted and built in the gallery area of Chelsea School of Art. This work was part of a larger group show, titled The Devil's Feast that featured work by Zarina Bhimji, Chila Burman, Jennifer Comrie, Allan de Souza, Keith Piper and Donald Rodney. The exhibition took place in April and May of 1987. In some ways, the catalyst for the piece was yet another 'death by misadventure'. Clinton McCurbin, a young Black man, died whilst being arrested and subdued by the police, in Wolverhampton town centre, in February of 1987. But McCurbin's violent death was only one of the most recent of a number of similar tragedies.

For example, on Saturday 28 September 1985, Cherry Groce, a Black woman had been shot and paralysed during a police raid on her home in London. Groce was, allegedly, shot in her bed, by a member of a team of armed police officers who were looking for her son. Another, slightly divergent account has it that 'a team of armed officers went to the home of Mrs Cherry Groce in Brixton, South London, to arrest her son, Michael, who was wanted for [allegations of] armed robbery. In fact, Michael Groce no longer lived there. The officers smashed down the door with a sledge-hammer and then an inspector rushed in 'shouting armed' police. Mrs Groce says the officer suddenly rushed at her, pointing a gun at her. She tried to run back but he shot her. She is now paralysed and confined to a wheelchair. (Times, 16 January 1987)'. ³ On Sunday 6 October 1985, just over a week after Groce sustained her horrific injuries, another Black woman, Cynthia Jarrett died of a heart attack during a police raid on her Tottenham home. ⁴ There were others, many others.

Piper and Rodney were determined that these deaths would not go unremarked. To this end, they set about creating a work of profound empathy. 'The Next Turn of the Screw' featured, in part, painted portraits of six unfortunate people, each one a victim of alleged police brutality. The unhappy roll call featured, chronologically, Colin Roach, Jackie Beverley, the aforementioned Cherry Groce and Cynthia Jarrett, Trevor Monerville and finally, the aforementioned Clinton McCurbin. What was remarkable about 'The Next Turn of the Screw' was that the artists had to collect and rely on decidedly scrappy source material. The nature of these archival images threw into sharp relief the violence that blighted the lives of these sorry individuals. Colin Roach is shown smiling, the portraits of Jackie Beverley and Trevor Monerville are incomplete - evidence of the ways in which their likenesses were sourced from what one artist has called 'other people's photographs'. By far the most poignant image is that of Cherry Groce. The only image of her that was circulated within the press and media in the aftermath of her injuries was lifted from a wedding photograph. The cropped photograph - taken several decades earlier - showed her as a bride, wearing her wedding day fineries. No other pictures of the hapless victim recent - or otherwise - were available. Beneath each portrait the artists had, almost by way of an epitaph, written a brief description of the violence that befell the six.

Keith Piper and Donald Rodney 'The Next turn of the Screw' (detail), 1987 Photo credit: Eddie Chambers

'The Next Turn of the Screw' is in effect 'history' as cultural memory, history as remembrance. To profound and deeply sobering effect, the artists used archival images to create something that is in itself an archival document. The piece was only ever shown as part of The Devil's Feast and, upon the close of the exhibition, was dismantled and the six portraits executed directly on to the gallery wall were painted over.

Relatively little has been written about the 1980s emergence of a new generation of Black artists in England. And much of what has been written has been shallow and reductive. Historians and researchers have yet to substantially undertake a process of critical examination of artists of the period, according their work individual and focussed attention. A great many works have been lost, or lost to history, so the task of researching art practice of the recent past is an urgent and important one. Paradoxically, given the sophistication with which a number of artists have sourced and used archival material, documentation of the work of these artists remains patchy. There is still much to be done in fashioning a substantial and tangible history of the emergence of artists such as Piper and Rodney.

¹ 9 Night in Eldorado South London Gallery September 10 - October 12 1997. Kesewa Hennessy, in conversation with Donald Rodney explained that the exhibition title was 'named after the Jamaican tradition of people meeting, drinking and reminiscing for nine nights after the death of a family member'. And that furthermore 'it represents the nine nights Donald was unable to attend after the death of his own father.' [The feature on Rodney was titled 'Sweet as sculpture' and was part of a regular series of interviews that went out under the weekly heading Answer the Question. The Voice newspaper, September 1 1997].

²Donald Rodney in conversation with Lubaina Himid, State of the Art, Channel 4/Illuminations (Television) Ltd television programme, 1987.

³Quoted in Policing Against Black People Institute of Race Relations, London, 1987, p.26.

⁴For more on these incidents and responses to them, see 'Riots and Rumours of Riots', a chapter in A Climate of Fear The Murder of PC Blakelock and the Case of the Tottenham Three by David Rose, Bloomsbury Publishing Ltd. 1992 and 'Roll Call of Deaths', a chapter in Deadly Silence Black Deaths in Police Custody Institute of Race Relations, London, 1991.

Further information
Donald Rodney archive
Eddie Chambers' website