Harry Grundy – pearls, poems and phlegm.

Artist Interviews

Jan 15

Over the course of 9 days in the November of 2021 – a conversation between Round Lemon writer Liv Collins, and artist Harry Grundy takes place. Over email, we chat about his piece Pearls Before Swine, ideas for wobbly outdoor sculptures – and the contentious relationship between art and money. This is an artist who is unafraid to say it how it is – phlegm and all.

The first question I wanted to ask you, is how are you doing?

I’m well thanks. Sat in my flat in Hebden Bridge looking at the fog, wondering whether I should leave and take some pictures on the Moors. There’s a bit of phlegm in my throat somewhere that I can’t bring up and I can’t taste my coffee. Not Covid though — just a cold. I woke up late today and have just finished writing a to do list. Just found an eyelash in my mouth.

I’m sorry to hear about the phlegm and the eyelash in mouth – both not v nice – I hope that you can taste your coffee again soon. Did you end up taking some photos on the Moors? And how is your practice going at the moment?

Phlegm’s mostly gone now, thanks. Just watery eyes and some sneezing. Didn’t get on the Moors in the end. The shot I’m after is of my hand appearing to grip the horizon. The weather is too low today, so no good edges to be found.

Instead I’ve been planning my first solo show, for the Whitaker Museum in Rossendale. Budgeting and reworking some pieces. They’ll be 9 works on show in total so a fair bit to do before February. About to eat lots of sweets I think, whilst drawing in front of the TV. Also I wrote this poem this morning—

Fly a kite on the Moors at night

Wade a stream from source to mouth

Spin on your heels, draw a circle in piss

Forget the keys to your house

Slap a puddle like a drum

Sculpt God from river bank clay

Draw some blood with the sharpest leaf

Too much to do on Solstice day

I read the poem out loud and it made me smile, it made me think of purification – of the body, mind and immediate environment. Where did you write this poem?

Glad you enjoyed the poem! Often my works are little performances. I thought of the absurdly sinister act of flying a kite in the dark on a hill and then lots of similar, peculiar acts came out at once like snot.

Whilst I’m thinking about it - you recently displayed your work ‘Pearls Before Swine’ at the Round Lemon exhibition; Bees Don’t Make Lemonade. Please could you tell me about the thinking behind this piece?

Pearls Before Swine, a freshwater pearl balanced on top of an erect chastity cage, is a few things conceptually. It looks a bit like a proposal. The Pearl looks a bit like cum, the cage, a bit like jewellery. I read on a space forum that, in galactic terms, pearls and Amber should be valued above diamonds as they require life to be created. I love trying to wrangle our place in the universe when making work. I suppose this small sculpture is a glib look at value and production.

That's really interesting what you said about value - esp in relation to the pearl (!!). As Pearls Before Swine was displayed in the toilets at the exhibition - do you think this played with the works value ? / added new layers to it conceptually?

Yes for sure. That’s why I applied to the open call really, it seemed like a fun opportunity to relocate the work.

What was it specifically about exhibiting the work in the toilet that inspired you?

Actually, I hadn’t thought about this before hand - but have you been to the Hayward gallery in London? Their toilets feature some bespoke commissions from artists they’ve shown previously. Elmgreen and Dragset have a wild, knotted pipe connecting the two sinks and Martin Creed has layered up the bathroom tiles, like a little minimalist Judd shelf or something. Not sure what else is in there these days. Think MoMA has Cattelan’s gold toilet called ‘America’ fully plumbed in too.

It’s always interesting; the difference between a pristine white space and somewhere with an established function. I think in the future I would like to create sculpture for outside. Interesting to imagine my work coordinating with a tree or the sun or a traffic jam. I suppose the toilet was a fun opportunity somewhere in that direction.

Yeah I’m with you. Do you have any ideas for potential outdoor works atm?

Yeah a few. Some exist as renders, like a big wobbly chrome arch positioned halfway along a path made by hikers feet known as a ‘desire path’. Other exist as just words at this stage like; ‘a parked car that is always wet’ and ‘bullet strewn information centre’ and ’two-way stone skimming pond’. I’ll keep them on the shelf until it rains money in Calderdale.

I like that these ideas exist in many forms, n I look forward to seeing where you take them. You’ve also raised a really interesting point, about the relationship between making art and money – how do you feel about it ?

Thanks!

On money and art I wrote down somewhere ’soup sucked through bread’

Not sure exactly what I meant but it feels right. It’s a slog. I’m just grateful to have art. I make it everyday and obsess over the future; what I will be making, where I might be showing and who with etc. I work freelance as an art director/ designer for a creative agency so that helps loads of course. I guess the bread is the heft of money worries and the soup trickles through with lots of effort and sometimes indignity.

Oh my that is the perfect analogy !! A messy slog, at times satisfying but mostly just very soggy. And that’s ace to hear that you’re doing freelance work too. So, for my last question in this virtual conversation – I wanna ask, if the sky is the limit and it suddenly does start raining the ££ in Calderdale – what would you do?

I’ve never thought about that before. All my ideas rarely exceed the width of my doorway so I know I can get the work done. I’m gonna think of something now though. Okay.

Look up Stoodley Pike. It’s a 200 year old obelisk monument, commemorating the napoleonic wars. It’s up on the edge of Eringden Moor near my flat in Hebden Bridge. It haunts me. Genuinely think I have some kind of masochistic megalophobia. I kinda moved here to be closer to it and visit it lots. You’ll be on a walk on another hill somewhere and see it out of the corner of your eye. In the 1850s it was exploded by lightning. Imagine seeing that. With all the religion about in the valley at that time, imagine what people thought when God blew it up. They rebuilt it immediately and now it’s covered in peace signs and prothletising football fandom. It’s a 400 meter tall sundial/ cock/ middle finger/ rocket.

I’d make something like that.