Roy Barrett: Leading a double life

Above: Bentley

Above: Roy Barrett

Above: Buick

Above: Shirt

Entering Roy Barrett’s Octanica art gallery and studio is a bit like opening Pandora’s Box. An interesting shop window arouses your curiosity and, once inside, you are likely to be surprised at what you find.

Roy is an instantly likeable man. He can talk for England, painting vocal pictures with stories of his life and family as he sits at an easel in his old patterned sweater and paint-splattered trousers.

Some art establishments can seem so sniffy you wish you had never set foot inside the door, but Roy’s gallery in Beaminster’s Hogshill Street is not at all intimidating. He warmly welcomes a couple teetering on the threshold from the street. They just want to browse and are not sure about making that move inside. In a mild Midlands accent, he says: ‘I want you to feel like you’re coming into a friend’s house – Roy’s place.’

And it does feel like that, even though he and his wife Sandy have lived in Beaminster for only two years. They moved to the town from Chard and have been in the south west for more than 20 years. ‘Sandy’s a Devonian,’ says Roy. ‘She brought me down here to show me where she used to live and thereafter I couldn’t get the south west out of my head.’

Roy’s world is one of nostalgia, a wistful, wishful look at times gone by when old Minis were the cutting edge of style, couples queued outside an Art Deco cinema to watch The Italian Job and guitar heroes and rugged motorcyclists ruled the world. His paintings tell a story and the viewer is left wondering what happens next.

But there’s a hidden side to this artist, whose nostalgic paintings and prints of old motorbikes, vintage cars and aeroplanes are collected worldwide. For Roy, 58, also paints eroticism under the name of Will Varnish, taken from the name of a great uncle he never knew. ‘It’s my other head,’ Roy says. ‘Worzel Gummidge used to have different heads for different days and so do I. I have my watercolour head, my DIY head and then my erotic one.

‘It started when I produced a picture with a semi-clad couple leaning against a motorcycle. It celebrated my love of machinery with my love of the human body. It went down so well I thought ‘here, there’s a market for this’. One thing that fascinates me is suggesting a private and erotic moment without showing the naughty bits. For me there’s highly charged eroticism in a woman’s shoulder from a certain angle. That’s what fascinates, capturing it subtlely. Since I’ve been painting as Will Varnish, I’ve discovered that 75% of it has been bought by ladies. We sell it so very quickly.’

His wife Sandy is an integral part of the business, running Roy’s websites, buying frames and organising exhibitions. ‘Sandy’s role is doing everything apart from the paintings,’ Roy says.

Roy was an art director with the BBC at Pebble Mill when he met his wife-to-be on location. Sandy, a former air stewardess, was helping out with the buffet for the actors and crew of Howard’s Way. ‘I should have spent most of the day next to a cameraman, telling him what to do but spent most of the time behind a boat chatting up Sandy. For three years, Sandy and I lived separate lives – she was in Winchester and I was in the West Midlands.’ In 1995, Roy, took redundancy. ‘It not only changed my life it also gave me a chance to live with my wife, which was a treat.’

After a few years, the couple were earning their living from Roy’s paintbrush. ‘We spent many years travelling all over the country, to exhibitions and shows, and always dreamt of finding somewhere where I could have a studio, and some sort of gallery where I could put work permanently on show. We sold our house in Chard and rented a bungalow in Hooke while we looked for somewhere to live.’

As with so many house-buying stories, Roy’s is one of pure serendipity. ‘We came into Beaminster to buy some provisions and happened to go to the estate agents. He said, ‘This might interest you, it’s right opposite – would you like to go and look at it?’ We fell in love with the house and town straight away. This Beaminster is such a rarity these days, to find a little country town that has a heart and so much in the way of pubs, shops and a bank. It’s got a village heart but the commercial centre of a town. For the first time in my life I can go shopping without a car. We feel it’s very important to support small, local shops. It’s also nice to go in shops where you know people.’ The house, part of which had been a shop years ago, was ideal for their needs and, slowly, they are starting to restore the property.

Roy has been painting for years, ever since he was a young boy growing up in Birmingham. ‘I was encouraged by my grandparents to draw and paint a lot,’ he says.
‘My grandfather was also an amazingly true gentleman who I looked up to when I was a youngster. I would go shopping with him and I was very impressed that he used to raise his hat when he saw a lady and said hello. That left a lasting impression on me. I’ve been trying to be courteous to ladies ever since! He was a great storyteller, and in the Tank Regiment in the First World War. He told me lots of stories about his brother who I never met – Wilfred Varnish Barrett.’

Roy went to Birmingham University where he qualified as an architect. But working in this field wasn’t right for him and, through a friend, was offered a temporary position with the BBC as a set designer. ‘Those six weeks turned into permanent work,’ he says. ‘In true architecture, the visual appearance is governed by so many rules and regulations whereas in television the visual appearance of something is its prime reason for being. It doesn’t matter if it’s made from cardboard or plastic, it’s what it looks like that’s vitally important. I couldn’t have dreamt of a better opportunity. It took me to some great places in all sorts of weathers in fabulous locations.’

As well as Howard’s Way, Roy worked on programmes including All Creatures and Small and a series of Dickens adaptations such as The Old Curiosity Shop and Great Expectations.

‘I’ve always had a pencil or a paintbrush in my hand, so when I was offered redundancy I put my hand up first, grabbed my little bag of BBC gold and decided I could spend my life doing something entirely different with Sandy by my side. ‘I was producing a story visually on screen and now I’m still telling a story but using a paintbrush instead.’