Presence and metaphor in the work of Richard Smith
Richard Smith was born in Letchworth, Hertfordshire in 1931. Following national service with the Royal Air Force in Hong Kong, he studied at St Albans School of Art and then, from 1954, the Royal College of Art in London. He taught at Hammersmith College of Art from 1957 and two years later was awarded a prestigious Harkness Fellowship in 1959 by the Commonwealth Fund of New York City. This allowed him to travel to the United States, where he spent several years painting and teaching. His first solo exhibition was held at the Green Gallery, New York, in 1961.
Richard Smith: On sailing to America on the Queen Mary, 1959, and being met in New York by artist Harold Cohen
Invitation to the party to say goodbye to Richard Smith before he set sail on the Queen Mary, 1959. With kind permission of the family of Robyn Denny. Image not licensed for reuse.
Artist Richard Smith (1931-2016) was born in Letchworth, England, and experienced the rationing and shortages of the Second World War when he was growing up. As an adolescent and young adult he was strongly attracted to the seductive consumer products he saw in advertisements and articles in American magazines. When the work of the American abstract expressionist painters began to be shown in England, his longing to visit the United States became even stronger. Air travel across the Atlantic was rare in the 1950s but in 1959 Smith won a Harkness Fellowship and was able to cross the Atlantic by sea on the Queen Mary.
In this extract from Smith’s Artists’ Lives recording we learn how he relished the luxury he discovered on the ocean voyage and can share his first impressions of Manhattan. As he disembarked he was met by the British artist, Harold Cohen. Cohen’s first words to Smith communicate the urgency they both felt in relation to their own work. Harold Cohen’s own recording for Artists’ Lives can be found on British Library Sounds.
Richard Smith was recorded by National Life Stories for Artists’ Lives in sessions between 2010-2015. The interviewer was Cathy Courtney.
I took the Queen Mary out of Southampton it must have been, and, there were classes on the boat, there was kind of, first class, then there’s cabin class, which I was in, and then, I don’t think, it wasn’t called steerage, I think third class or something like that. And I kind of… Those boats are remarkable, the liners are really terrific places. Anyhow, I shared my cabin with a, a man who was a Baptist minister, or something like that. Anyhow, worked out perfectly all right, and… But I was amazed by the fittings in the… It had been refitted after the war, and, et cetera et cetera, but, the dining rooms, and the menus were kind of, huge, and things like that. Anyhow, you know, the five days or whatever went by very nicely and cheerfully, and…
And then I kind of, got into New York, and kind of, came in the channel. There was no Verrazano Bridge at that time, so we kind of came in past the Statue of Liberty, kind of, came in to Manhattan, and, you know, the, it’s a wonderful view of Manhattan from the ocean. And, you could see the buildings up, and the Empire State Building, and the… There was one new building in downtown, because it was orange, I think they had that netting over it, you know, because they were constructing it. Anyhow, that turned out to be the Chase Manhattan Plaza building.So, came in. We docked somewhere in the, docked somewhere in the low fifties. And, you know, kind of, came off the boat, and the luggage and whatever, that. I was met by Harold, and I think a representative of the, of the Harkness, and, Harold said, ‘You’ve got to find a studio,’ he said. So, those were like, the first words he said, I’m sure.
This essay focuses on the first half of Smith’s career, when Smith’s paintings show the growing impact to his work of consumer cultures in Britain and America, especially visual effects used in the advertising and packaging industries. In 1963 he began to create wall-based paintings using irregular shaped canvases. Though these extended outwards from the wall in arrangements of flat segments of stretched canvas, Smith always maintained that he was making paintings (layers of soluble colour on stretched material) rather than sculptures. In 1972 he made his first in a series of ‘kite paintings’. For these the painted canvas was stretched between cords and aluminium, creating softer shapes and contours.
In 1975, when Smith was forty-four, Tate mounted a retrospective exhibition of his work to date. A sentence from the introduction to the accompanying catalogue, written by American art historian Barbara Rose, remains worth considering today. Referring to the new kind of nature to which artists of the 1950s and 1960s were looking, she described the new ‘landscape image’ for them as the whole field of consumer culture. Smith was responding, she wrote, to the ideas that were being constructed visually around brands. She illustrated this point with the example of a metaphor: ‘the soft-focus blur of green in ads for mentholated cigarettes metaphorically equating cool tobacco with the freshness of a spring landscape.’
The visual languages of branded packaging certainly offered a new ‘landscape’ for Smith’s generation of painters and sculptors. Yet Rose’s description helps to explain Smith’s relationship not only with the effects of commercial messaging but also with its processes. Considering her words while listening to the Artists’ Lives recordings (made between 2010 and 2015), it became especially apparent that it might still be helpful to think about Smith’s work in relation to a process of ‘metaphorically equating’ that Rose described. Furthermore, oral descriptions (by Smith and others) in these recorded interviews provide ideal material with which to explore this theme.
Smith’s use of familiar words in his titles often associate his paintings with particular things, whether objects, actions, slogans or otherwise. Titles of three 1961 paintings include, for instance, Chase Manhattan (a banking company), Billboard (an object associated with advertising) and Panatella (a brand of cigar). None of these paintings would be seen by many to represent these subjects in a recognisable way. Yet, whether conceived before or after his paintings were complete, such titles open up Smith’s works to a process of metaphor, as Rose suggests. His works allude to familiar things while not straightforwardly representing them.
In his Artists’ Lives recording, John Kasmin (Smith’s gallerist from 1963) described Smith’s more three-dimensional ‘extended canvases’ in relation to a wider move in his work from representation towards analogy, meaning the creation of particular parallels or likenesses. In his recording Kasmin explained how these painted shapes were ‘no longer merely implied’ but ‘actually projected’ into space. Piano (1963), however, he continued, had not become a piano itself but only showed characteristics of that object: it ‘didn’t look like a piano at all’ but was ‘piano-ish’ in ‘the way it came down on the ground’. A protruding bulk that could be described as a stepped tower of yellow boxes tilting slightly forwards, the word ‘piano’ inspires an appreciation of aspects of the work, including its scale, heaviness, airiness and structure, including its lid-like form. The painting might be ‘piano-ish’ foremost in how it relates to the human form, as a long table-like structure to which a viewer’s stance and form might relate or respond in familiar ways.
Kasmin: On Richard Smith's 1963 exhibition at Kasmin Gallery
Richard Smith, Piano (1963) Tate. Purchased 1975. © Richard Smith Estate. Image not licensed for reuse.Even before he opened premises of his own in 1963, art dealer John Kasmin (b. 1934) was anxious to represent British artist Richard Smith. Smith was back in England, having spent two years in America on a Harkness Fellowship, and although only in his early 30s, he had already made a reputation for himself following a successful exhibition at New York’s Green Gallery.
The first of Smith’s exhibitions in which Kasmin was involved took place in Smith’s Bath Street studio in London. In this audio extract from his recording, Kasmin is in conversation with interviewer Monica Petzal. The energy of Kasmin’s voice communicates his excitement at showing Smith’s work at the Kasmin Gallery in 1963. He explains how Smith was perceived at the time and why the new work was so significant. Two of the shaped paintings Kasmin references, Gift Wrap (1963) and Piano (1963), are now in Tate’s collection, and his delight in sales from the exhibition is evident. Amongst the buyers were the corporate Stuyvesant collection, the Arts Council, the British Council and a private collector, Alan Power.
Richard Smith’s own Artists’ Lives recording gives his perspective on the work of this period and on showing with Kasmin. It can be found on the British Library Sounds website.
John Kasmin was recorded by National Life Stories for Artists’ Lives in sessions between 2004-2016. The interviewers were Monica Petzal and Cathy Courtney.
‘Richard Smith: New Paintings’. Now, we’d a show, we talked about it in Dick’s studio.
Sold a lot. Dick’s work was, startlingly exciting at that date. It was both voluptuous, and, in colour and manner, it was tender in brush strokes, and it was full of new concepts as well. And, had this connection with, with popular culture in the sense that so many of the works were spatial adventures based on shapes used by, used in advertisements. Dick’s show in ’63 was absolutely amazing. It might have been the first show in the, in our world, of shaped paintings, because, a great many of them were three-dimensional, the shapes were no longer merely implied, they actually projected on wooden structures. But were still painted canvas stretched over wooden shapes, and you have a, you know, an example of one of the greatest in the Tate Gallery, the one called Gift Wrap, but there was an extraordinary picture that rests on the floor called Piano, which looked, well it didn’t look like a piano at all, but it had a piano-ish… It was the way it came down on the ground I suppose made him call it Piano. I mean I, it actually was packets of cigarettes as well as Gift Wrap. But, this was a very thrilling show indeed.
And Dick Smith was a very considerable personality.
Well he had a magic about him from having lived in America. As a personality he was diffident, quiet. It’s just that, Dick had lived in New York. He knew more about it all, I mean, about, the galleries, the artists, what was happening in New York, what was going on in all the studios of people that, that still hadn’t shown. It was all Dick’s connections. And he had a sort of glow about him, he knew he was painting good work, and what he, his thinking was all razor sharp. And… But he was a quiet fellow. A lot of people were excited about his work, and one of them was Robert Freeman, who at that stage – photographer. This was the moment when James Bond films were a big noise. And Robert Freeman was in that world, and he in fact, I remember letting Freeman and Dick and a whole team work in the gallery at night as we were installing a show, and made, made film shots and angled shots from scaffolding of the pictures, you know, using it in dramatic ways that the average viewer wouldn’t have been able to have. High up in the gallery. But the show was a knock-out, people had not seen, you can’t say that they were the only works of art which were three-dimensional paintings, but people hadn’t seen things on this scale. So, it was a knock-out. And, Stuyvesant bought one, and the Arts Council bought one, and the British Council bought one, and, by now I had a proper English collector too who bought one, that is to say, Alan Power, I think I’ve mentioned before, who was the son of Ted Power, and he was sweeping up stuff at a big rate, and not necessarily just to take home and hang. I mean he was somebody who already bought more than he could hang. He bought a flat in, where he didn’t live, in Ennismore Gardens, to put, to put work in.
Other speakers recorded for Artists’ Lives have discussed how Smith’s work was described during the 1960s as relating to visual strategies of branding and advertising. As part of his own Artists’ Lives recording, curator and art historian Richard Morphet recited diary entries from 1962 written after hearing Smith present at the Institute of Contemporary Arts (ICA) in London. Taking place the year before Smith’s three-dimensional canvases were first shown (at Kasmin’s gallery), this event gave Morphet the opportunity to hear Smith talk about his work. In his diary entry Morphet recalled Smith’s description of how his paintings functioned within the busy visual world. They should have initial impact through their presence (a form-grabbing structure, or scale, for example), but should not be taken as representations.
Richard Morphet: On the confrontation among artists in the audience at a talk at the ICA given by Richard Smith, November 1962
Section from Richard Morphet's Diary, 19 November 1962. Courtesy Collection Richard Morphet. Image not licensed for reuse.
The diary distils the atmosphere of the evening and the furious debate that ensued about whether advertising was a legitimate subject for an artist’s work. This was a hot topic at the time and reference is made to the writings of Vance Packard, a critic of American consumerism. The ICA evening was chaired by the artist Richard Hamilton, and among those present were Rita Donagh, Bernard Cohen, Harold Cohen, Roy Ascott and David Hockney. Morphet was himself working for an advertising agency in 1962. After a period at the British Council he went on to have a 32 year career as a curator of the Modern Collection at the Tate Gallery.
Morphet’s diary also details Richard Smith’s comments about his approach to his paintings whilst on a Harkness Scholarship in America from 1959-1961, a crucial period in Smith’s development.
Richard Morphet’s Artists’ Lives recording was started in 2013 and is ongoing. The interviewer is Cathy Courtney.
This is my account of an evening at the ICA in Dover Street on the 19th of November 1962.
‘Evening at the ICA in their Around the Event series devoted to Richard Smith. Among those there were Roland Penrose, Dorothy Morland, David Hockney, Bernard Cohen, Harold Cohen, Joe Tilson, Roy Ascott, and Andrew Hislop. The chairman was Richard Hamilton, smoking long cigars. His pleasantly appearing, so soon after Terry’s tragic death on the 6th, was heroic.’ That’s a reference to the tragic death in a car accident of Richard’s wife Terry. ‘Richard came with Rita, who stayed all the time at the back and in the shadows, and with whom I and later Chris,’- that’s my brother- ‘spent part of the interval talking about Smith, about Terry, and eating Mint Imperials. Richard Hamilton gave a merry, self-effacing introduction. He also said that they’d asked Eduardo Paolozzi to give a demonstration of his vision in this series, but he had replied with an attack on the ICA. And he’d asked Kitaj, who had said he might have a talk ready if they’d give him two years to prepare it. First of all, Dick Smith’s film was shown; then he talked about his work, and a fierce discussion, to put it mildly, developed. In the interval I phoned Chris to get him to come and see the film, which was being projected a second time as it was so utterly sensational. And he came at once, in a taxi. This film, which Dick Smith and Robert Freeman had made together, to illustrate Smith’s vision of the world around, and relate the mass media environment to his paintings, was in brilliant colour. The soundtrack was not synchronised to the vision, and thus the relationship between these two elements was different each time the film was shown, itself an entertaining factor which interested Smith greatly. One saw several of his large recent paintings upright in an outdoor urban environment on some stone steps separated from the camera by a road. So traffic kept flashing past, too near to be in focus, pedestrians on the pavement passing the paintings and giving them strange glances. The paintings changed from one to another without alteration of the rest of the picture, and without breaks. Next came segments of colour ads for mentholated cigarettes, predominantly Salem, and also for Nelson and Philip Morris in great close-up. The segments, in circles et cetera, kept switching, sometimes clicking in so that the whole of one occasional ad would be seen. Then details of Betty Crocker Cake Mix ads showing slices of rich cake in intense close-up, with icing like lava, and bleeding or oozing filling, and strawberries in syrup. Throughout these shots there were swift cuts to actual paintings by Dick Smith, and the close affinities between these lush, garish colour ads and the textures and the flicking techniques of mass-communication, with the images in the pictures, were crystal clear. There was then a semi-abstract sequence involving disc and circle shapes, which developed into an eclipse, and then into Smith’s own head in silhouette by Freeman. The last shot of all was a crushed Philip Morris pack. Much of the soundtrack was almost screamingly amplified pop music of the 1950s with no less than four numbers by the Shirelles. Really great.
‘Dick Smith said he accepted and celebrated the world that advertising had made around us. He had been greatly influenced by the American paintings exhibition here in 1956, and by the experience of the two pianos in the Diaghilev exhibition,’ that too I think was in 1956, ‘each of which was mechanised so that it played by itself. And they were set playing simultaneously. The interest came in the different permutations and combinations of sound that were achieved when they were started at different points in their cycles, and then again, at different points. When he first saw paintings by Rothko, also in 1956, these brought him up with a jolt as nothing had before or since. Then came his visit to the States. He felt he must get away from the group of painters to which he belonged in England, who were close-knit socially if not stylistically, in order to express himself. He cannot now remember without difficulty any of his own pre-1958 paintings. He spent his first four months in the USA looking for a studio et cetera, and didn’t paint at all. Then he was confronted with white canvases. He hated their bareness, as he hates silence. He paints with pop music and with jazz playing. And he felt he must first establish their existence as a wall. So he covered them with check patterns. It was then on to the background that he had painted that he placed his own “unique masterly brushstroke”’ - that was Dick’s own phrase used, slightly tongue-in-cheek I suppose, at the occasion at the ICA. ‘And fascination comes from the way the background modifies the unique brushstroke and vice versa. His painting surfaces are deliberately rough and unfinished. “You see a couple of thousand paintings a year. You can’t remember most of them. I felt mine must have an initial impact.” But it’s important in his paintings that one should not be able to identify visual references specifically. “You’re looking at a painting, and someone says to you, ‘It’s two people bathing in a pond,’ and, well, you’ve had it!” At this point David Hockney collapsed sobbing with raucous laughter onto the floor. Earlier Hockney, in a glinting brown mackintosh and scarlet waistcoat, and gilt tab collar, asked whether the soundtrack in the film was taped or on the film. Then for the rest of the evening he kept standing up during the talk and walking over to the bar for another drink, his squirting of the soda syphon resounding through the room. There was gigantic attack from Roy Ascott and Bernard Cohen on Dick Smith’s joyous acceptance and bolstering up of advertising values. Dick Smith said he had read Vance Packard et cetera, but he just did not think in moral terms. What he loved was the visual aspects, the double-page spreads, and the hoardings, the juxtaposition of giant glass of beer with minute bottle, elephantine refrigerator, with insect-like passing humans. The whole manipulation of images by the ad man. He utterly refused, a) to imbue his pictures with moral content or comment, or b) to agree that there was anything unacceptable in his subject matter. “It’s not as if I’m inspired by Mallorcan pottery or something. This is something that’s all around us.” He claimed it was as unreasonable to attack him for using advertising ingredients as to blame a landscape painter because a farmer ploughed a certain sort of furrow, which later became part of a landscape painting. His critics claimed, however, that no good painting of any sort can be divorced from taking a relationship towards its subject, Rembrandt, Augustus John et cetera, to their sitters. The advertising argument became positively violent, with a long-winded and emotional attack from a guy with a foreign accent so extreme that Richard Hamilton says he must exercise his chairman’s function and shut him up, as it was becoming offensive. But Richard Hamilton was cried down by many, who resented, they said, that by now being world famous Richard Smith was strengthening advertising success by taking it as his subject. It is my only, but large, criticism of Dick Smith that he refuses to attack advertising’s motives and methods, though I join him enthusiastically, as did the majority there, in digging its visual elements. It was, Dick Smith said, not the surrealistic power of massive absurd contrast in scale, pictures of girls in luxury beds in the middle of fields et cetera, which he dug, but just the manipulations of images and scales and proportions. Nor had he any affinity with Dada. But he felt a big Surrealist exhibition now would be opportune, and he would also like there to be one of Picabia’s works.’
And that’s the end of the diary entry.
Morphet continued to describe how Smith outlined his love affair with ‘the visual aspect of advertising’. He especially noted the artist’s interest in the impact of double-page spreads, hoardings and juxtapositions of scaled objects. Smith was fascinated, Morphet recalled, with ‘the whole manipulation of images by the ad-man’. A seemingly controversial topic even for the ICA, Morphet’s entry described passionate arguments among the crowd about Smith’s response to this subject matter. However, the artist, he explained, successfully defended the importance of recognising and experimenting with such strategies of visual communication.
Smith understood the strategies of brand messaging and applied them to his own ways of working with abstract colour and form. The results, his artworks, contain formal and verbal references to familiar objects and experiences while not letting such references predominate over the fact that his paintings are primarily impactful compositions of colour, line and shape.
It is not surprising that others have taken note of the importance of scale and physical impact in Smith’s work. In his Artists’ Lives recording former Tate Director Nicholas Serota describes the importance of allowing Smith’s paintings to be experienced in ways that give them the impact of attention-grabbing scale of billboards and brand designs. He particularly remembers the effect of the relationship of scale between Smith’s canvases and Kasmin’s relatively modestly-sized enclosed white space. Serota goes on to suggest, therefore, the power of displaying Smith’s works in places where the viewer is forced to get up close.
Nicholas Serota: On Richard Smith's Riverfall at Kasmin Gallery
Riverfall by Richard Smith (1969) and Hyena Stomp by Frank Stella (1962) in the exhibition Artists' Lives: Speaking of the Kasmin Gallery, Tate Britain, December 2016 - April 2018. Photograph Joe Humphrys. Courtesy Tate. Image not licensed for reuse.
In his recollections of seeing the work of Richard Smith at the Kasmin Gallery, Nicholas Serota (b. 1946) reveals something of his own approach to exhibiting works of art in differing spaces. At the time Serota visited the Kasmin Gallery he was an Exhibitions Officer for the Arts Council. He became Director of Tate from 1988-2017 and is now Chairman of Arts Council England.
Nicholas Serota’s Artists’ Lives recording was started in 2011 and is ongoing. The interviewer is Cathy Courtney.
Any recollection of anything particular that you saw there?
Richard Smith. Not obviously the earliest, three-dimensional, paintings, but the latter group, like Riverfall and others that then went to Venice, I think in ’72. Caro. Those were the things, those are things that I remember.
How did you respond to the Richard Smiths?
Oh I thought they were marvellous, in the sense that I felt they were, they had scale, they were ambitious, they were overwhelming, they were beautifully painted, they felt like a new kind of painting. Well of course one of the other things that I didn’t say about the Kasmin Gallery was that it wasn’t that large, and so, you know, a painting like Riverfall would occupy a whole wall. It was a bit like the whole business of showing Barnett Newmans, really big Barnett Newmans. For years you used to go to the Stedelijk Museum in Amsterdam and you’d go to the top of the stairs there, that white staircase, painted white by Sandberg after the war, and, you’d walk up this stair into the big room, and they had all the big Newmans and the Morris Louises and so on. And then one day I went and they had a show that was about post-war painting, it was actually Edy de Wilde’s farewell show, and it was in 1985, or, end of ’84, beginning of ’85, and there were three Newmans in a small gallery, each one occupying a whole wall. They looked twice as good. I mean, I had visited Mrs, by that time I’d visited Mrs Newman in, when she was still living in West End Avenue, New York, and had seen, you know, some of those big paintings in that small apartment, and you can imagine what, for instance, oh what’s the name of the painting? There was a painting that was owned by Ted Power, E J Power, which was a really big Newman, duck egg blue, 1954, hung on the wall, entrance wall, of Ted Power’s apartment in Grosvenor Square, and you wouldn’t have been able to get more than five feet back from it. So, I think that Dick Smith should be hung in a place where you can’t see it at sixty or seventy feet; you need to come close to it.
Smith himself discussed his appreciation of the ‘fullness’ of imagery he found in advertising campaigns. Using their strategies of manipulation, the appealing, familiar ‘glow’ of advertising itself was, he would say, ‘within the paintings’.
Richard Smith: On his attitude to advertising and consumerism
Richard Smith at Howard Hodgkin’s home, Long Dean, Wiltshire, photographed by Rowland Scherman. © Rowland Scherman. Image not licensed for reuse.
Artist Richard Smith (1931-2016) pins down his attitude to advertising and its use as subject matter in his work. Born in England, he was particularly attracted to advertising as he encountered it in American magazines. Smith was to spend the greater part of his adult life living in America.
Richard Smith was recorded by National Life Stories for Artists’ Lives in sessions between 2009-2005. The interviewer was Cathy Courtney.
This is a short extract from an in-depth interview. A written summary of the full interview can be word searched on the Sound and Moving Image Catalogue. Listen to the full interview on BL Sounds.
The idea was this glow of advertising was within the paintings. A few of those paintings around. I know Bryan Robertson bought one for the, I think it was for the Bristol Art Museum, nice open, green and blueish painting.
Can we just pin down, what was your feeling about advertising?
Well, I thought it was in a very… You know, I knew it was an important part of life. I had been, in a way, magazines, especially the ones I found from America, were solid with advertising, of cigarettes, detergents, cars. And, and that even news magazines like Time would have, like, full-pages ads within Time. And Look magazine was the magazine I was most keen on, you know, absorbing and seeing. And so, those, those images became more overt in my work later.
What did you feel about the advertising and the products and the images?
Well, I was, I was a… I was, I was a consumer. I really, I liked to smoke, I drank, you know. I liked good clothes and, shoes and whatever, and that kind of thing. So I was, I was part of the audience. Though I was, I was aware of manipulation and, that kind of thing, so, I didn’t, you know, I wasn’t a sucker, although, you know, you are a sucker when you rely on advertisements. No, I… I remember images still, you know, of that time.
What do you remember?
Well there was a, I think it was a, it was an ad for a vodka, and, it was a shimmery pyramid, Egyptian pyramid. And the desert. And then, in close-up was a cocktail glass with the V shape top and the spindly leg. And it was a perfect, perfect photograph.
Why would you not be thinking about going into advertising, rather than being a painter?
It never occurred to me. Never occurred to me. I didn’t, I didn’t have… I, I didn’t have ambitions outside painting, but I, you know, I had ambitions for painting, and…
Are the references to advertising a kind of celebration of advertising?
Yes. I think positively. You know, images started overtly, more overtly about being about advertising, were after I came to New York.
Consistently clear from the recordings is that the ‘glow’ and ‘fullness’ present in Smith’s work of the early 1960s is connected to how they also draw back from the world of advertising and brand design. The richness of Smith’s contribution is most often described in terms of how his works refuse to be read simply as either abstract formal patterns or representations, but constantly move their viewers between the modes of abstraction and signification. The Artists’ Lives recordings by Smith and others are therefore an important part of the body of experiences that can be drawn on further to reveal the vividness of their effects.
Related oral history recordings
Follow the links below to listen to the life story recordings of individuals mentioned in this essay:
Many more life story recordings from Artists' Lives and other projects are available on British Library Sounds.
Selected extracts from the exhibition Artists' Lives: Speaking of the Kasmin Gallery (Tate Britain 2016-2018) are also available on British Library Sounds in Curator's Choice.
The text in this article is available under the Creative Commons License.