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Harry Bunce
Move over Banksy, there’s a new society-commentating-results-in-a-painting kid on the block, and he means business. Only the word on the street is that Harry Bunce, well, isn’t that street. In as much as his art for the masses is restricted (for want of a better word) to silkscreen, as opposed to putting his (very graphic) writing on the wall(s). Oh, and Bunce has two names by which he’s more commonly known by, rather than the single pseudonym. But apart from these mere technicalities, everything else is pretty much similar; including Bunce’s Bristolian passport. So, what exactly do we know about Bunce. Originally from Hampshire (more of which after the drop), the critically acclaimed - and much-hyped - contemporary fine art practitioner relocated to Bristol to study, and just so happens to have liked the area so much that he chose to remain in and around Somerset ever since. With anti-establishment tendencies to the casual observer, Bunce is what fashionable types refer to as ‘unfashionably honest’ (although you might recognise the alternate phrase, ‘disarmingly honest’ more), and according to those close to him there are suggestions that Bunce possesses what’s described as ‘an instinctive mistrust of 'high art' and all the BS that comes with it’. Bunce also has a habit of quoting the likes of fellow creatively outspoken exponents of their specific genres, Hockney and George Herriman (creator of the Krazy Kat comic strip), whilst explaining that – along with Beatrix Potter – all three beared some sort of influence on him, artistically-speaking, despite the underlying fact that none of their particular work comprised of quite so much deliberate menace in terms of illustratively provocative content.
Rewinding to the bit where we mentioned Bunce’s early life, and as it happened young Harry was born and bred in a small Hampshire village, where it was said the future compositional agent provocateur developed and nurtured his (what turned out to be) enduring love of all things quintessentially English countryside-y. Apparently Bunce’s family were builders, but having revealed a fledgling talent for art he moved west to study, culminating some years later in the graduation from Bristol University with First Class Honours. The followed the aforementioned upping of sticks/roots/etc to rural Somerset, where Bunce became exposed to/inspired by local folklore - and drawing on influences as diverse as John Emms, Howard Hodgkin and (as before) a certain Beatrix Potter; and subsequently began painting extraordinary anthropomorphic portraits. Talking of influences and inspiration (as we did earlier, only this time more subconsciously perhaps), Bunce’s characters which we’ve grown to steadily recognize and love in more recent times seem, from an expert’s perspective, to follow in the comic/sporting tradition of the previously revered likes of Cecil Aldin and/or Harry Neilson; yet on closer inspection reveal a somewhat darker side of the English rural idyll. And when we say dark, we mean comedically so. Subversive, black humour courses through the inked veins of Bunce’s hallmark visual propositions, and has catapulted his pictorial presence to the forefront of any queues likely to have been formed in his figuratively abstract genre fold.
Although there’s an instant awareness and acknowledgement of the creatures which comprise Bunce’s illustratively sublime artistic features, they’re not what you might call cuddly versions of in the traditional sense. Rather vaguely sinister, unknowable and alarmingly cool anthropomorphic animals, truth be told. We mean, just how else would YOU describe a shotgun-totting badger, anarchist hares, red-jacketed foxes and squirrels tooled up with Walther PKKs?! Essentially as far removed from cute as they can be. Having said that Bunce injects new life (and troubled times) into what are, effectively, old friends and makes us focus on them – and their not-so hidden messages – through fresh, 21st century eyes. It’s little wonder that Bunce has garnered the tag of ‘Potter meets Tarantino’, with another badge of honour going something along the lines of being akin to ‘Bucolic Street Art’ (not least when collaborating with screen printing gurus, Screen One - Banksy, China Mike, Nick Walker, Sick Boy etc), while many consider him to be the sort of reclusive country cousin to the famed Bristolian art scene. But then again Bunce and his unique artistic take is notoriously difficult to pigeonhole, and he’d far rather let his characters do the talking for him for the most part. Bunce’s work now hangs in private collections far and wide, including America, Canada, Australia and New Zealand, with galleries in the South West and well beyond routinely show his collections.
Rewinding to the bit where we mentioned Bunce’s early life, and as it happened young Harry was born and bred in a small Hampshire village, where it was said the future compositional agent provocateur developed and nurtured his (what turned out to be) enduring love of all things quintessentially English countryside-y. Apparently Bunce’s family were builders, but having revealed a fledgling talent for art he moved west to study, culminating some years later in the graduation from Bristol University with First Class Honours. The followed the aforementioned upping of sticks/roots/etc to rural Somerset, where Bunce became exposed to/inspired by local folklore - and drawing on influences as diverse as John Emms, Howard Hodgkin and (as before) a certain Beatrix Potter; and subsequently began painting extraordinary anthropomorphic portraits. Talking of influences and inspiration (as we did earlier, only this time more subconsciously perhaps), Bunce’s characters which we’ve grown to steadily recognize and love in more recent times seem, from an expert’s perspective, to follow in the comic/sporting tradition of the previously revered likes of Cecil Aldin and/or Harry Neilson; yet on closer inspection reveal a somewhat darker side of the English rural idyll. And when we say dark, we mean comedically so. Subversive, black humour courses through the inked veins of Bunce’s hallmark visual propositions, and has catapulted his pictorial presence to the forefront of any queues likely to have been formed in his figuratively abstract genre fold.
Although there’s an instant awareness and acknowledgement of the creatures which comprise Bunce’s illustratively sublime artistic features, they’re not what you might call cuddly versions of in the traditional sense. Rather vaguely sinister, unknowable and alarmingly cool anthropomorphic animals, truth be told. We mean, just how else would YOU describe a shotgun-totting badger, anarchist hares, red-jacketed foxes and squirrels tooled up with Walther PKKs?! Essentially as far removed from cute as they can be. Having said that Bunce injects new life (and troubled times) into what are, effectively, old friends and makes us focus on them – and their not-so hidden messages – through fresh, 21st century eyes. It’s little wonder that Bunce has garnered the tag of ‘Potter meets Tarantino’, with another badge of honour going something along the lines of being akin to ‘Bucolic Street Art’ (not least when collaborating with screen printing gurus, Screen One - Banksy, China Mike, Nick Walker, Sick Boy etc), while many consider him to be the sort of reclusive country cousin to the famed Bristolian art scene. But then again Bunce and his unique artistic take is notoriously difficult to pigeonhole, and he’d far rather let his characters do the talking for him for the most part. Bunce’s work now hangs in private collections far and wide, including America, Canada, Australia and New Zealand, with galleries in the South West and well beyond routinely show his collections.