In the early 1970s, it was already clear that I was no revolutionary or iconoclast. I had begun painting at an early age, and gradually realised that my preoccupation with Pompeian wall paintings and Italian early Renaissance was not shared by my contemporaries. I had to accept my constitution, and renounce collectivism and allow my own urges to govern my artistic pursuits. Even today, I am more in touch with Masaccio than with Damien Hirst, and a piece of charcoal fills me with greater joy than a computer.
Someone has compared our life journey with that of an oarsman: with our back turned to the destination of our voyage, we fix our eyes on the place we left on the shore. The destination is unknown, but the starting point determines the direction.
This could be a possible attitude to tradition: our gaze towards the shore, the calm rhythm of the rowing that moves us across the contemporary waters. The water dripping from the oars is our work.
Harald Lyth, Sept 2013