Ruth Batham: Being Human.

Rambling noisy bodies and charged embraces occupy Batham’s ‘Three Lions’ in sweeping shades of greens and blues, as I can hear the celebratory chanting of an ecstatic football crowd. With an academic background in Human sciences and an enthusiasm for paint, it’s not surprising that Ruth turned to art to capture the essence of both the human form and its relationships through various types of portraiture. Having had work featured in Round Lemon’s Kitchen Gallery Exhibition in October, I was intrigued to find out more about Ruth’s influences and decision making when it comes to collecting people on canvas.

What initially made you interested in the human condition and why do you choose to express this interest through art? 

I’ve been curious about what it is to be human for a long time. From school, artists working with the body or mind in different ways inspired me: from Tracey Emin to Christian Boltanski. At degree level, I studied Human Sciences at UCL. It was a broad course and I learnt a breadth of subjects, such as History of Medicine/ Anatomy/ Anthropology...Alongside learning about what it is to be human. Life drawing sessions allowed me time to draw and paint. I wanted to do more than purely realise the human form and when I had my first studio in 2017, I could use my art practice as enquiry - an opportunity to explore and to make links. 

I then began to know that painting doesn’t give a clear message and that I can work with that ambiguity. Paint is a brilliant medium to explore non-verbal communication, sensory processing and information sifting. I became more interested in human perception and think that multiple realities from the same scenario is like viewing art. Everyone comes to a painting with their own histories, preconceptions and ultimately different viewpoints of a painting. An artist I greatly admire, Ryan Orme, gave me some excellent advice:

“You can’t use a screwdriver all the time; sometimes you need a spirit level”

Within the field of painting and drawing there are so many ways to organise thoughts, record ideas, make lists, store information. Drawing, for example, at the Royal College of Physicians: ‘Under the Skin’ exhibition allowed me to slow down my looking and learning to then understand a subject in greater depth. It is a privilege to extend my knowledge in wide and varied directions; my practice allows me to draw upon such different references to explore how people interact and communicate. It works well for me to research the human condition from all types of sources: from Institutes like The Wellcome Collection, to podcasts like Woman Up!, as well as the influence of other painters and reading - all of this can fuel my art.

I enjoy the discipline in being self-led as a painter and the freedom to follow what interests me. Also the extraneous parts of being a painter feed in too: hanging work in the Tate on behalf of an Open Age group I worked with; asking to see a Graham Dean painting in a high-end Mayfair gallery (where I clearly couldn’t afford to buy the piece!); being welcomed into someone’s home for my first portrait commission; visiting Body Worlds as research and the cold studio evenings listening to the neighbouring Gospel Church. The curiosity that can be nurtured in the space of being an artist is so precious. The connections that constantly fire from research and links that were hidden and appear through practice are life-giving. There is always more to discover. 

You say that through your process, you often feel like a collector of people. Do you find particular types of people reappearing in your work or do you find yourself ‘inventing’ individuals in your paintings based from real life experiences?

I always keep a little sketchbook going of people I see. The people come from a range of sources: life drawing, shows, Instagram, family and friends...Often these people, or the way they are captured, might seem a bit off or odd. I’m fascinated by how small differences can make a large impact. These people reoccur in my paintings and I treat them with care. I would hate to offend. I don’t think I invent individuals as such, but I do like the people I draw and paint to have these qualities: to lift the mundane, to highlight the same-but-different or to make something more than the sum of its parts. 

Currently, because I’ve been looking at crowds and in particular, pub crowds, there probably is a certain type of person there. After having my first daughter in October 2020, I have begun researching a variety of depictions of motherhood in art and popular culture. This is where I want my work to go next. So I imagine there’ll be many more mothers appearing in my paintings in the future. 

Turps Off-Site Leavers’ show 21

How was your experience as an Offsite Turps Participant and how has this informed your practice? 

Turps turned me into a painter. 

I was in total shock on being accepted into the Turps family. It gave me so much confidence to be able to identify with other painters. I went with so many aims and had them met and exceeded. I feel more able to make informed decisions from my time at Turps.

Being able to discuss anything painting-based from the why’s, to pace, to medium, to size, to content...anything was so exciting! I found the crits (both in person and online due to Covid) powerful for understanding more about my practice and other painters’ practices. All the mentors gave lots of helpful pointers, saw connections I had not and introduced brilliant artists to me. Neal Tait was an incredible mentor: I can vividly remember the first studio visit and how I was taken seriously as a painter and talked to critically. It was empowering. I could move from the need to validate what I was doing to instead giving time to discuss the what and how of painting. 

The weekly talks, often followed by email threads threw up a lot to chew on. I felt supported to reflect, explore, feel charged up and curious. There was so much content to devour, understand and synthesise.

Before Turps, I didn’t have a wide network of other painters I knew. Being around other painters inspired me to be more professional about my own practice. I was amongst the most incredible company at Turps: painters who have won prestigious prizes, and artists represented by quality galleries and are selected for top call outs. Also, another artist’s studio is one of the happiest places to be. Some of our outings were some of my most happy days too: a behind-the-scenes guide at Victor Willing’s show in Hastings still gives me food for thought when I work in the studio now. On a side note also, being in the Off-Site Leavers’ end of year show this October was a proud moment and gave me momentum after giving birth to Layla the previous October. 

Do other painters inspire your practice? If so, who and why? 

Ah! I love to answer this question. Yes! So many. And it is such a journey - from school when I mainly seemed exposed to wonderful but dead painters eg Dali, Picasso... then when I began my practice in earnest and the contemporary art world opened up it was ‘wow!’. Here are so many painters working away that I had no idea about!

From School, figurative painters like Freud, Bacon and Saville were inspiring in their handling of paint to depict the human condition. Then in the studio for the first time, Klee, Klimt and Schiele became pivotal in understanding colour and composition. 

A painter who was fundamental to where I am now as a painter is Gavin Lockheart. He spoke with me about being a painter and I can remember buzzing after talking to him. Thinking that I could actually try to be a painter. I love looking at his recent acrylic works on paper and thinking about how he’s made them.

When I saw the late works of Dorothea Tanning at the Tate I was physically excited. The freedom in her later painting. The beautiful colours. Sargy Mann at Royal Drawing School also made a huge impression on me; both his paintings and his personal story. 

Then I began actively searching out female painters after realising most of the painters I was referencing were male. Susie Hamilton, Nettle Grellier and Rhiannon Salisbury are such role models for me. Nicole Eisenmann’s paintings at the Whitechapel Show: ‘Radical Figures’ have stuck with me for their ambition of scale, skill of painting, pleasure of paint, complex composition and emotional subject matter.

I also like to think about how painters talk about their work. Loie Hollowell combines her art and life so eloquently and Henry Ward inspires me for his musings on art and art education. I think from Turps most painters I’ve encountered have in some way inspired my practice. Here are some very talented female painters to look up: Diane Rogan, Min Angel, Yvette Blackwood, R&F Mo and Karolina Albricht. 

Your ‘approach’ prints displayed in Round Lemon’s Kitchen Gallery exhibition have a consistent colour palette of blues, greens and creams, intersected with some light pink and burnt reds. What was your thought process behind choosing these colours? 

My Approach drawings were made at a time when I was  reading and thinking lots about colour theory. I had participated in a Colour Theory course at City Lit (courtesy of my lovely friends getting me birthday vouchers!). In essence, I was working a lot with Henry Miller’s quote: ‘There is no colour which is good by itself.’  As I was drawing to fragment the figure I wanted a colour palette to harmonise the parts. This drawing process came quite naturally to me (unlike most of my paintings!) and I had a happy, purposeful time narrowing down my palette to those colours which felt ‘right’. I was aiming for a feeling of calm. I love Cad Red next to Cerulean Blue for how zingy it is but here I wanted a sense of togetherness from the chosen colours. I worked with Karisma pencils. They are no longer in production which is crazy because they are the best material I have ever worked with! They blend beautifully and many of the blues, greens and creams I achieved were from careful layering up of the set of colours I had chosen. 

More Recently you’ve been painting crowds. What inspires you to choose the setting of these paintings?

I see painting as a way to filter thoughts and to have agency to make decisions. I want to be an active observer in the work I make. I’d been thinking so much about body language and socially accepted codes of conduct. Crowds provided a key framework for sharpening my focus. I was interested in how certain behavioural norms could be accepted, even encouraged, in say, a football crowd but would be vilified in other contexts. The local is a familiar space for me to inhabit and is part of my family heritage. During lockdowns, I missed the feeling of being in a pub or in the stands. I was nostalgic for these environments and began drawing pub scenes. Full of people. This led my interest into football pub crowds for example. I wanted to have customers here jostle for space and weave in and out of sobriety. Painting has no sound, but I hope in this series you can hear the chatter and noise of the pub or club.  I am enjoying pushing what paint can do to explore different states of being - euphoria, loss of self, collectivised energy alongside isolation and alienation. Painters like Michael Andrews and Nicole Eisenmann are in the back of my mind as I work on this collection. Images of crowds seem so charged when we are able to gather in groups after such a long time. Each individual has their own story - before and after this coming together yet the collective energy is apparent. I like that a crowd composition can have the quality of an immediate impact but you can then lose yourself in details. My favourite Degas in the National Gallery is ‘Combing the Hair’ - the oranges are sublime and the limited palette in the crowd scenes came from my love of this painting. 

‘Three Lions’ (2021) Acrylic on Board

‘Imbibe: The Local’

Out of all the works you’ve made, which one did you enjoy making the most? 

Maybe this seems like a cop out answer but there’s not one over the other. Maybe ‘Imbibe: The Local’ is my best painting - as in the action of painting - but I’m aware it’s not ‘the’ best painting. I enjoyed the making because it embodies so much of what I learnt at Turps.

I’m always thinking about painting; I enjoy the continual problem solving and feel excited by the potential in the studio. Painting can be a weird state: when the painting itself is not going well I can be raging quietly inside but the act of painting is the most enjoyable experience ever. There’s that (not often achieved!) sweet spot of total excitement and intense relaxed concentration. I enjoy the learning that takes place between paintings. I do enjoy how things come together. For example, the visual diary I made in the run up to a solo show. I was looking a lot at Klee’s work and feeling very much that my work in the studio seemed to be either a success or failure, no middle ground. I also get immense pleasure from recording thoughts and information so I decided to make a diary of good and bad painting days leading up to the show. Orange was bad and blue was good. And then even a bad painting day would result in more of my visual diary being complete. It’s a simple piece but one that I couldn’t part with now. (You can see it in one of my studio shots).

I like to keep in mind Van Gogh’s words: ‘the great doesn’t happen through impulse alone but is a succession of little things that are brought together.’ This helps me think it’s not all about one painting but the hours put into painting. Also, I’ve been brought up to value daily gratification over status/ kudos and on that note I want to end by saying I’m forever grateful to my partner and to my parents for enabling me to do what I’m doing today.