
Sir Brian Clarke obituary
This experience, which he described on the online arts platform Heni in 2023, attached him to what he called the 'unbroken line to a glorious, complex and majestic past' represented by stained glass.
When the Minster's east window had been finished in the first decade of the 15th century, most of the people who saw it would have been peasants living in poverty. Clarke's awe was their awe.
The son of Edward, a coalminer, and Lilian (nee Whitehead), a cotton spinner at a local mill, Clarke had had a financially hard childhood. 'I am working class by birth and by inclination,' he would later say. 'My art is for the working class.'
It was also largely made in stained glass. His family having an interest in spiritualism, Clarke was sent to a spiritualist school before, at 13, winning a scholarship to Oldham School of Art and moving on to the Burnley College of Art two years later. At 17, he enrolled in the architectural stained glass course at North Devon College of Art and Design, graduating, in 1970, with a diploma in design.
At the Devon art school he had met a fellow student, Liz Finch, whom he married in 1972. Finch's father, a clergyman, encouraged his new son-in-law to make a career in ecclesiastical glass. Like many art students of his day, however, Clarke had been won over by the snappy imagery of Pop artists such as Peter Blake. When he sent off his portfolio to traditional ecclesiastical glass makers, it was returned with horror.
It was only in 1975 that he found a patron willing to commission him. The resulting window, at All Saints Church in Habergham Eaves, Lancashire, retold the creation story in blocks of saturated colour. This was later described by one art historian as 'the great dissonant masterpiece of English ecclesiastical stained glass of the 20th century'.
Even so, its maker's life was hardly one of Anglican decorum. A 1983 photograph of Clarke by John Swannell in the National Portrait Gallery shows a faintly Bowie-esque artist apparently mid-crucifixion. By now, he had been the subject of an hour-long BBC Omnibus programme called Brian Clarke: The Story So Far (1978-79). This, and a Vogue Homme cover shot by Robert Mapplethorpe, propelled him into the London limelight. He was taken up by the gallerist Robert Fraser, known as Groovy Bob, who introduced him to the capital's creative beau monde: Paul and Linda McCartney, Vivienne Westwood, Malcolm McLaren and, fatefully, Francis Bacon.
Bacon's response to the question put to him by Clarke at their first meeting hinted at a problem in the younger artist's future career. When Clarke asked Bacon whether he had ever made work in stained glass, the painter sneered, 'No, and I've never done any macrame either, dear.' Although Clarke also made paintings and works on paper, his fame, then as now, rested on his work as a maker of stained glass; and stained glass making was a craft, not an art. This stigma would continue to haunt him.
Nevertheless, developing a technique by which he could work directly on float glass – 'You couldn't do a leaded window on a skyscraper,' Clarke reasonably remarked – he became internationally successful, particularly in architectural glass.
In 1980, he was commissioned to design a decorative programme for the mosque at King Khalid airport at Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, studying the aniconic traditions of Islamic art at Qur'an school in Fez for the purpose. This was followed by other high-profile commissions, notably for the New York headquarters of the drug giant Pfizer (1995), and the architect Will Alsop's Hôtel du Département des Bouches du Rhône (1994), known locally as Le Grand Bleu for Clarke's wrap-around blue glass skin.
He added backlit panels and pillars to Norman Foster's design for Stansted Airport (1991), and worked with Zaha Hadid on an unrealised housing project in Austria. (Clarke dubbed the material he had made for this Zaha-Glass.) He turned Queen Victoria Street in Leeds into an arcade by covering it over with a glazed roof (1990). His non-architectural glass works were shown in the bluest of blue-chip commercial venues, including the Gagosian and Pace galleries in London, and, most recently, at Damien Hirst's Newport Street gallery, in an exhibition held to mark the artist's 70th birthday.
And yet the art establishment largely looked away. Although the Tate owns a suite of Clarke's works on paper, it has none of them on glass. No major public gallery has ever given him a show; he was never made a Royal Academician.
In part, this was because of a lingering snobbery about what was seen as craft, although there was also a sense that the mass appeal of Clarke's work made it just too easy to be serious. 'People haven't always liked my art,' he said in an interview at the time of his 2023 show. 'People have been downright fucking rude about it, in fact. But it's all I've ever done.'
His habit of falling out with museum directors did not help. 'I used to say it doesn't matter because they'll retire or die, then there'll be a new generation of them,' Clarke said. 'But now I've had rows with all the new ones too. British museums have made a point of ignoring me my entire career.'
His capacity for belligerence was not confined to his own work. On Bacon's death in 1992, his companion, John Edwards, made Clarke an executor of the artist's estate. In 1998, he became its sole executor, launching a lawsuit against Bacon's former gallery, the Marlborough, for breach of duty over the painter, which was eventually dismissed and a settlement reached out of court, on terms that remain unknown. History repeated itself when Clarke became chairman of the Zaha Hadid Foundation following the architect's untimely death in 2016. A series of disputes between the foundation and Hadid's architectural firm followed, described in the press as toxic.
Clarke was knighted in 2024. He and Liz were divorced in 1996, before remarrying in 2013. She and their son, Dan, survive him.
Brian Clarke, artist, born 2 July 1953; died 1 July 2025

Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles


Times
24 minutes ago
- Times
Teaser 3281
Square Dates Each year when I get my new diary, I like to look at the dates to see if they have any interesting properties. When I looked at this year's diary, I was pleased to find two dates that are 'square' in the following way. If the date is expressed with one or two digits for the day (ie, no leading zero is allowed), followed by two digits for the month and then the year in full, then 1.09.2025 is a square date, since 1092025 is the square of 1045. The only other square date this year is 27.09.2025, since 27092025 is the square of 5205. Using the same method of expressing the date, what is the first square date after 2025? Send your solution to: The Sunday Times Teaser 3281, PO Box 29, Colchester, Essex CO2 8GZ or email The first two correct solutions opened after next Saturday each win a £20 Waterstones voucher. Open to 18+ UK & ROI residents only. Solution to Teaser 3279 6432 The winners are: RA England, London W3; G Smithers, Holt, Norfolk.


Times
24 minutes ago
- Times
Full-fat faith: the young Christian converts filling our churches
S queezing through the thronging and startlingly youthful crowd in search of a decent place to sit at the 11am service at St Bartholomew the Great, next to Smithfield meat market in central London, you wouldn't guess that the Anglican Church had spent the past few decades apologetically imploding in an unregarded corner of our national life. The congregation is more than 200 on this unexceptional Sunday. A decade ago, I'm told, it might have been 50 or 60. St Barts owes its success and a measure of online fame (one congregant drily remarks that it is something of a 'meme church') to its embrace of beautiful and traditional worship. But the young crowd is not just here for a cultural Christianity of hymns and picturesque ritual. They are remarkably fervent: genuflecting, bowing and crossing themselves. Most pray on their knees with their hands clasped together and their eyes squeezed shut.


Telegraph
32 minutes ago
- Telegraph
Time to overhaul a university system that has ceased to serve the country's needs
SIR – The post-school education system of the late 1960s and early 1970s was perfectly suited to the country's needs (' Universities 'putting bums on seats' as high A-level grades rise', report, August 15). Universities were for academic excellence; polytechnics combined the technical and the academic; and technical colleges provided Higher National Diploma courses. The system has since been degraded by the proliferation of universities, leading to many degrees becoming worthless. It needs to change. To declare an interest, I was a polytechnic student in the early 1970s; attached to the poly was a technical college offering courses for trades such as plumbing and bricklaying. Some of the teachers there supplied the technical support for my estate management course. Jonathan Youens Bucharest, Romania SIR – It is now in the interests of schools to encourage students to go to university, as that is effectively how their performance is assessed. Young people between the ages of 16 and 18 are given little advice on their options other than: 'Get a degree.' My son, who has just finished his degree, is fortunate to have worked part-time in another field during his studies. He now has a full-time job, unrelated to what he studied. He describes university as an expensive mistake. Britain needs young people to work, to pay tax. That more are not encouraged to start doing this at 16 or 18, rather than several years later after incurring debts in excess of £50,000, is a scandal. Mark Scrimshaw Northwood, Middlesex SIR – This year's A-level results have revealed shocking inequalities. In London, more than 32 per cent were A or above, compared with only 22.9 per cent in the North East. Such disparities extend beyond education. Life expectancy, other health outcomes and transport infrastructure are also poorer in the North East and some other regions. When are these going to be addressed? Dr Robert McKinty Darlington, Co Durham