By Will Wainewright
With the expenses scandal, the economy and Afghanistan weighing heavy on the body-politic, it is fair to say that 2009 has not been a great year for politicians of any persuasion.
One man who will not be complaining is Gerald Scarfe, for forty-two years the notorious political cartoonist of the Sunday Times and a man who will not be shedding any tears at the trials and tribulations of the political classes. Their plight has provided rich source material for his biting depictions of current issues, and he has no regrets about pillorying them so mercilessly either – “unfortunately many politicians would rather be drawn as a lump of snot than not drawn at all,” he says. “It means they are a person of note.”
For years the scourge of Prime Ministers Thatcher, Blair and President George W. Bush, Scarfe has seen it all since his first cartoon was published on the front page of satire rag Private Eye in 1963.
After being sent to document Vietnam by the Daily Mail (who often chose not publish his drawings which fully captured the horror of the situation) he began his career at the Sunday Times in 1967, fitting in numerous projects, including animations for Pink Floyd and the sketches in Yes Minister, in between.
Scarfe’s style is marked by his often grotesque and deformed characterisations of politicians, a trait of his work some attribute to the severe asthma-inflicted pain he experienced as a child. In the meantime he developed a passion for art and drawing, and has carved out a successful career as one of the leading political cartoonists of the age, attracting shock and acclaim in equal measure for his crushing illustrated verdicts on the war in Iraq, expenses and, most recently, troop deployment in Afghanistan.
Pulling apart the actions and motives of the political elite is a responsibility Scarfe feels keenly, believing the cartoon can satirise the elite far more powerfully than, say, an opinion piece.
“The role of the political cartoonist is to poke fun at our so called ‘leaders’ while also perhaps making a serious point,” he says. “And they can make that point much more immediately – it takes two seconds to take in a cartoon.”
The direct impact of the political cartoon should not be underestimated, although the thought and creative process that goes into each one is often a more long-winded affair. Though some, he admits, result from a sudden flash of inspiration, “the thought process may be a slow burn over several days.” The drawing of a cartoon itself takes anything from 3 to 8 hours to complete.
Scarfe sees a strong future for political art in newspapers, despite the media’s movement to online. “Hopefully as long as there are newspapers there will be cartoons,” says the artist, whose work was recognised by a CBE in the 2008 Birthday Honours List. “I don’t see why the same shouldn’t apply online.”
His childhood influences were artists such as Ronald Searle, Andre Francois and Walt Disney, while the likes of Francisco Goya, Honoré Daumier, and Francis Bacon now inform his work. His vivid depictions have won him comparisons to the Victorian caricaturist George Cruikshank, while his unfailing ability to cast aside politicians’ pretensions and get to the heart of the issue in a single cartoon have led some to label him a “James Gillray” for our age. Though future generations will judge whether or not his work stands up to comparison with the great caricaturist of the French Revolution, Scarfe has undeniably had some pretty serious issues to pillory himself – but those are the ones he most enjoys.
“I enjoyed satirising Mrs Thatcher, Tony Blair and George Bush – those who are involved in dramatic events,” says the cartoonist, whose violent artistic style has been criticised as crude and rudimentary by some over the years. “But I do certainly get bored with them after a while.”
That style was most vividly on display during the Iraq War, when an apparently inhuman Blair was savagely lampooned with blood on his hands. Does Scarfe think the victims of his brutal caricatures take offence at their often gratuitously vile characterisations? “I doubt they do,” he replies, adding “I don’t care if politicians take offence.”
Furthermore, he agrees with former Conservative PM Ted Heath that the satire boom of the early 1960s, which set the trend for the political satire that dominates modern political commentary, has contributed to the “death of deference in society.”
“I think undoubtedly so,” he says, and it is not something he will worry about either. Scarfe is simiarly unrepentant when I ask about his controversial recent Remembrance Sunday cartoon, which showed blood flooding down into the gutter from the wreath Gordon Brown was laying at the cenotaph. Hasn’t the Prime Minister – from the furore over his spelling mistake to the relentless public criticism of his personality – been put through enough public humiliation?
“Unfortunately politicians feel it’s better to have some attention than no attention at all,” Scarfe blandly replies.