‘Whatever clues you can get about David Bowie are important’: Understanding Bowie through his art

Editor’s Note: Paul Morley is a music journalist, curator and the author of “The Age of Bowie.” The following extract is taken from the book and the accompanying video sees Morley explore a preview exhibition of Bowie/Collector, a three-part sale by Sotheby’s auction house encompassing some 400 items from the private collection of the late David Bowie.

There is something about a phone ringing early in the morning that instantly suggests bad news, and in particular the worst sort of bad news.

Paul Morley, author of "The Age of Bowie"

Death: that time of the morning when the night is holding onto you is when you usually discover someone close to you has died. For whom the bell tolls … I was knocked out of sleep by the shrill, synthetic ring and the desultory, morbid vibration that accompanied it … abruptly pulled from a misty mountain magic dream state where everything was permitted … a gloriously strange world inspired by Bowie’s suavely delirious “Supermen” climax to his 1970 “The Man Who Sold the World” album.

Barely awake, gloomy-browed super gods dying and sad-eyed mermen tossed in slumbers still wafting through my mind, I played the message a morosely flashing blue light informed me was waiting.

A young man politely told me, briefly apologizing in case I did not know the news (beat) that David Bowie had died. Could I call him back immediately, so that I could comment on BBC Radio 4’s Today show that morning; as a matter of urgency?

That was it. A simple, neutral transaction, softly informing me via robotic answer machine that there had been a considerable change in circumstances. Press 3 to delete. During the next few hours, I thought, David Bowie’s name would be said thousands, millions, of times on the radio and television, a mantra helping him safely adopt his next form. Press 4 to express your shock.

I did not call the Today programme back. I didn’t think I would be able to instantly muster the correctly seasoned blend of succinct overview and suppressed lamentation.

Frank Auerbach (born 1931), Head of Gerda Boehm, oil on board, 44.5 by 37cm.; 17? by 14?in Executed in 1965, ￡300,000-500,000 —

"My God, yeah! I want to sound like that looks" -- David Bowie on Frank Auerbach's work, quoted in the New York Times, 1998. Bowie loved the rich, sculptural effects of Auerbach's paintings, and clearly felt a deep affinity with the artist, whose work could provoke in him a whole gamut of reactions: "It will give spiritual weight to my angst. Some mornings I'll look at it and go, ''Oh, God, yeah! I know!'' But that same painting, on a different day, can produce in me an incredible feeling of the triumph of trying to express myself as an artist." [Ibid]

The painting was last exhibited at the Royal Academy, when Bowie lent the work to Auerbach's retrospective in 2001.

Jean-Michel Basquiat (1960-1988), Air Power, signed, titled and dated 1984 on the reverse, acrylic and oilstick on canvas, 167.5 by 153cm.; 66 by 60?in. Executed in 1984. ￡2,500,000-3,500,000 —

The connection between Bowie and Basquiat has previously been established on film in Julian Schnabel's 1996 film Basquiat, in which David played the role of the young artist's mentor and collaborator, Andy Warhol.

It is clear however that Bowie felt a strong connection to the artist and his method: "It comes as no surprise to learn that he [Basquiat] had a not-so-hidden ambition to be a rock musician", wrote Bowie in Modern Painters, 1996, "his work relates to rock in ways that very few other visual artists get near. He seemed to digest the frenetic flow of passing image and experience, put them through some kind of internal reorganization and dress the canvas with this resultant network of chance."

Damien Hirst (born 1965), Beautiful, Shattering, Slashing, Violent, Pinky Hacking, Sphincter Painting, signed, household gloss on canvas, diameter: 212.5 cm. 83? in. Executed in 1995. ￡250,000-350,000 —

Bowie said of Hirst: "He's different. I think his work is extremely emotional, subjective, very tied up with his own personal fears -- his fear of death is very strong -- and I find his pieces moving and not at all flippant."

Ettore Sottsass (1917-2007), 'Casablanca' Sideboard, wood, laminate, 231 by 158 by 39cm.; 91 by 62? by 15?in. Designed 1981.￡4,000-6,000 —

Intended to work as room divider, general storage and a wine rack, this 'Casablanca' was exhibited in the first collection of Memphis furniture in 1981. Flamboyant in pattern and shape, the use of the plastic laminate Formica is a reference to everyday 'wipe-clean' interiors of American diners and kitchenettes.

Brionvega Radiophonograph, model no RR 126, wood, laminate, polycarbonate, painted aluminium, 63 by 125 by 36cm.; 24? by 49? by 14?in. Circa 1966. ￡800-1,200 —

Sottsass also designed a television set for Brionvega, but in David Bowie's collection, his personal record player is a stand-out piece.

Henry Moore (1898-1986), Family Group, bronze, height: 15cm.; 6in. Conceived in 1944. ￡250,000-350,000 —

Moore originally conceived the idea for his family group series when he was asked to create an outdoor sculpture for a school in Impington, near Cambridge, in the mid-1930s. The motif of the family group preoccupied Moore and he pursued this
intimate yet universal subject in the post-war years, creating numerous preparatory sketches and maquettes. The subject would become Moore's first large-scale public bronze work in 1949. Here Moore creates a perfectly balanced, interlocking group of
abstracted figures on a smaller scale, giving his sculpture an almost votive feel.

Bowie/Collector: Selected works from David Bowie's private art collection

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I needed time to process this sudden information, that over the past few years at times seemed to be close enough to have expected such an eventuality, but which then seemed delayed, certainly enough that someone who seemed close to death in his mid- sixties – songs were sung wondering if he was dying or even dead, alarm bells rang, mental preparations were made, obituaries organized – now surely might make it into his seventies. After that sense of emergency, it seemed as though Bowie had more completely returned to the land of the living, a near resurrection suggesting he might even make it into his eighties, if not his nineties.

The past few weeks had presented the cheering on-going life of David Bowie as we thought of him in the form of the release of his latest album, “Blackstar”, or simply “”, his twenty-seventh solo studio album if you include his “Tin Machine” albums, establishing continuity with all his others, stretching back from 2016 to 1967, and implying this chain was not yet broken.

It seemed, going by the succulent, uncanny and wounded but alert sound of it, gorgeously formed from formlessness, from fragments, music effortlessly following its own logic, that the link had never been stronger.

“Blackstar” seemed like a follow-up to the illusionless “Low” and his savage and honest 1982 EP “Baal” in the way that Bowie often seemed to work out his own idiosyncratic musical chronology, following up the style and sensibility of albums in a different order to how they were originally released, sometimes even following up an album he had yet to make.

The album link was a lot weaker during the tricky, erratic 1980s, and then, more to do with a decline in the number of releases, the 1990s, leading to his heart attack in 2004. The conditions now felt right to produce a series of records that were the late-life equivalent of the vivid, gleaming sequence in the 1970s that few other musicians come close to.

In the years following his publicized illness there was enough of an apparent withdrawal from activity to suggest that he was in a protective form of self-enacted exile, a radiant exhaustion, nurturing his myth through enforced silence and a particularly discreet form of the manipulative cunning learnt quickly during the late 1960s, as he worked and plotted to get attention, and then refined during his peak commercial years.

Even the detractors questioning his artistic powers would admit he had a genius for publicity.

As a sophisticated marketing man almost painfully aware of his own brand, he noted that by the first and second decade of the twenty-first century it was actually more astute to appear to disappear, in a world increasingly made up of the mere fuzzy energy of publicity, crammed with exposed celebrities, would-be celebrities, reality TV stars, social media show-offs, fame seekers, self- glorifiers, glam hunters and dolled-up pop stars following one way or another in his footsteps. He felt no desire to compete with inferiors.

A 3D wall portrait of David Bowie, created by Australian street artist Jimmy C, in Brixton, South London

Bowie's hair and outfits shocked and awed for decades. Pictured, a young Bowie sports a Prince Valiant-esque do in March 1965, while he was still going by his birth name of Davy Jones. He changed his name to Bowie following the success of the Monkees and their lead singer Davy Jones.

Bowie appears at the Disc and Music Echo Valentine Awards ceremony at the Cafe Royal in London in February 1970.

Bowie wore this "Starman" costume for his appearance in "Top of the Pops" in 1972. It was featured in the "David Bowie is" exhibition in Victoria and Albert (V&A) Museum in London in 2013. It is one of 300 objects from the exhibit.

Bowie performs as 'Ziggy Stardust' in 1973.

Bowie performs his final concert as Ziggy Stardust at the Hammersmith Odeon in London on July 3, 1973. The concert later became known as the Retirement Gig.

Bowie performs onstage in 1973 wearing makeup and a costume that covers only one leg and one arm.

This costume was made for Bowie on the 1973 "Aladdin Sane" tour by Japanese designer Kansai Yamamoto. Bowie said the designs were "everything I wanted... outrageous, provocative and unbelievably hot to wear under the lights."

Bowie appears in concert at Earl's Court, London, during his 1978 world tour.

Bowie grins broadly, wearing a plaid shirt with his hair slicked back, circa 1980.

Bowie appears on the movie poster for the 1986 film "Labyrinth," for which he wrote the music and played the role of the Goblin King.

Bowie performs sporting a blond mullet in 1987.

Bowie appears onstage at the Parc des Princes in Paris in June 1997.

Bowie appears with his wife, model Iman, at the New York premiere of "Hannibal" in February 2001.

Bowie performs at Zenith in Paris in September 2002.

Bowie performs at the 2002 VH1 Vogue Fashion Awards at Radio City Music Hall in New York City.

Bowie performs in Copenhagen in 2003.

Bowie arrives at the Metropolitan Museum of Art Costume Institute Benefit Gala in April 2003 in New York.

Bowie performs on the third and final day of the 2004 Nokia Isle of Wight Festival at Seaclose Park on the Isle of Wight, England.

Bowie looks clean-cut while attending a gala in New York honoring Rihanna and Michael Clinton with his wife, Iman, in April 2011.

David Bowie's ever-changing look

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As David Bowie, based on having been David Bowie for decades, by leaving a space, a vacuum, it would lead to an amplification of all the original mystery that came about because of his appearance, and the correct songs to go with that appearance. To join in with the palaver of Internet-generated fame would mean being drowned by it, dragged down to its increasingly over-exposed level, becoming nothing special.

His job in the end, whatever you think about such an occupation, was to be something special, and in doing so point out everyone’s specialness. Both sides of Bowie, the lover of experiment and difference and the believer in the special forces of theater, could resist appearing for the sake of it at this stage of his life. By resisting appearance, he could be more visible.

This is an extract from Paul Morley’s book titled “The Age of Bowie”.

Watch the video above to find out more about Bowie/Collector, a three-part sale by Sotheby’s auction house encompassing some 400 items from the private collection of the late David Bowie.