On the Sands

Few writers address Lowry’s seaside paintings because they seem to directly contradict the artist’s own assertion that he never painted a jolly picture, and that his subjects were all deprivation and gloom. His famous remark, ‘I’m attracted to decay, I suppose; in a way to ugliness too’, has taken centre stage in Lowry studies and dominates interpretations of his work (L.S. Lowry quoted in E. Mullins, ‘My lonely Life by L.S. Lowry, Sunday Telegraph, 20 November 1966). In fact, this was only a persona he liked to assume to justify his unusual choice of subject matter, make sense of his radical material and reassure potential buyers. By contrast, there are numerous stories of Lowry’s high spirits, generosity and sense of fun, and these qualities are all on view in the present painting.

So, On the Sands is not typical in some ways and yet completely typical in others. Here are the same little figures for which Lowry is celebrated, but for a change they are not subdued and physically overwhelmed by an industrial or urban setting: they are on holiday, enjoying themselves. This is still a panoramic massed figure subject, but the whole mood is different. And yet this is not a solitary exception, there are plenty of joyful paintings by Lowry, such as the agricultural fairs, regattas, parks and market scenes as well as the seaside pictures. They are rightly popular even though they have not had the critical attention the mill scenes have attracted.

On the Sands is a truly joyous celebration, a seaside festival. The thin attenuated figures are definite and individualised, some even wearing their town hats on the beach. Here are people at play, taking a break from Lowry’s great self-proclaimed theme, the ‘battle of life’. The yachts observed in his youth at Lytham St Anne’s, which he painted and drew many times in the 1920s, are on the horizon, bringing an air of breezy leisure to the scene. Lytham St Anne’s, on the Fylde coast south of Blackpool, was the Lowry family’s favourite holiday resort, as it was for many Mancunians, and it was where Lowry’s parents had spent their honeymoon. This painting invokes its magic without making the identification absolute. Many of his paintings were constructed from memories and observations of more than one place.

The crowded beach is full of interest and incident: dogs and balls and prams and bicycles, buckets and spades, a sandcastle like a haystack under construction, children hurrying, adults idling and chatting. Lowry had no hesitation in piling up the figures in a kind of frieze of life, but there’s plenty of space between them (emphasised by the white paint) and air to breathe. The predominant white indicates the envelope of atmosphere the figures inhabit, the sharp briny cleansing air of the seaside, but through it are stitched accents of red, with black, blues and greens providing variety.

Typically there are no shadows visible. Lowry always maintained that he couldn’t paint shadows. So, as a consequence, he did not paint the sun. But the sun is out, witness the brightness of the scene, glowing with all that flake white Lowry loved to use. The seaside paintings are very different from the empty sea paintings — in fact, they are their antithesis. The crowded happy beaches symbolise the gregarious side of Lowry’s nature, his enjoyment of going out and watching people. The sea paintings epitomise what has been called ‘the loneliness of Lowry’. On the Sands is wonderfully celebratory and optimistic: it raises the spirits.

Looking at this painting, one gets the impression that the sadness was lifting from his life. His friend the dealer Andras Kalman said: ‘After the terrible burden of his mother dying, Lowry painted many happy pictures in the 10 years from 1939 [the year of his mother’s death].’ This is one of the liveliest.

We are very grateful to Andrew Lambirth for preparing this catalogue essay.