Beryl Cook: Pride and Joy

Loved by the public for her colourful and humorous paintings of people enjoying themselves, she was nonetheless derided by critics. This rich exhibition marking the centenary of Cook’s birth suggests it is time to reassess her work

Beryl Cook, Window Dresser 2, c1994. Oil on panel. Courtesy of www.ourberylcook.com © John Cook 2025.

The Box, Plymouth
24 January – 31 May 2026

by DAVID TRIGG

Although she was one of Britain’s most popular artists during her lifetime, Beryl Cook (1926-2008) divided critics and curators. The public loved her humorous pictures of larger-than-life characters out on the town, drinking in pubs and having fun, but her detractors derided them as lowbrow and naive, equating them with saucy seaside postcards. “There will be no Beryl Cooks in Tate Modern,” declared Nicholas Serota in 1996, and to this day Tate and numerous other UK museums do not own a single painting by her. Marking the centenary of Cook’s birth, this exhibition at The Box in Plymouth is the most extensive presentation of the artist’s work to date. Drawing on new research and archival discoveries, it boldly argues that, after decades of critical neglect, the time is ripe to reassess her contribution to British art.

Beryl Cook, Three Green Bottles, late 1960s. Oil on driftwood. Courtesy of www.ourberylcook.com © John Cook 2025.

With no formal art training, Cook was in her mid-30s when, in 1960, she first picked up a paintbrush. Her initial experiments with her son’s paintbox led to a prolific painting practice in which driftwood, tea trays, old cardboard and even a breadboard became supports for her early pictures. By the end of the 60s she was living in Plymouth and running a guesthouse, which she filled with colourful canvases. When Bernard Samuels, then director of Plymouth Arts Centre, saw her work there, he persuaded her to have her first public exhibition, in 1975: it prompted a major feature in the Sunday Times Magazine and a television appearance on the South Bank Show. A solo exhibition at the Whitechapel Gallery followed in 1976 along with representation by the Portal Gallery in London. Cook quickly became one of Britain’s most visible artists as her works were disseminated via postcards, calendars and prints. But she remained a shy and reclusive figure, shunning the limelight.

Beryl Cook, Elvira's Cafe, c1997. Oil on board. Courtesy of www.ourberylcook.com © John Cook 2025.

Cook painted what she knew and loved. She was a keen observer of everyday social situations, and her sassy works capture the joyful and sometimes raucous moments in the lives of ordinary people. Among the more than 80 paintings on display, we find family picnics, crowded bars, boozy singalongs, lively hen nights, thronged beaches, bustling hair salons and all manner of saucy goings on. Most are inspired by Plymouth where, for four decades, Cook frequented the city’s cafes, shops, pubs and clubs. These carefree scenes of people at leisure in the 70s and 80s belie the many societal challenges of the era, from economic crises and industrial strikes to rising unemployment and increasing inequality. But while Cook’s pictures reflect the desire for escapism and to forget one’s troubles, they are also important socio-historical documents of life after hours, inadvertently tracing the changing faces of nightlife, pub culture and women’s spaces during a time of enormous social change.

Beryl Cook, Bingo!, 1984. Oil on board. Courtesy of www.ourberylcook.com © John Cook 2025.

Paintings such as Bingo (1984), in which a woman exuberantly waves her winning bingo card in the air as her fellow players look on, unimpressed, speak to the broader sociopolitical context in which they were made. Capturing a British cultural mainstay, it reflects the sociability of older women in the 80s, when bingo halls provided a place where they could meet and enjoy a sense of independence. Elsewhere in the rich, non-chronological show, Pannier Market (1978) depicts women shopping for fruit and vegetables amid overflowing market stalls. In addition to documenting the fashions of the day, it bears witness to a culture of bustling street markets now largely replaced by supermarkets and online shopping.

Beryl Cook, The Lockyer Tavern, c1974. Oil on board. Courtesy of www.ourberylcook.com © John Cook 2025.

Cook was a regular pub-goer and, as evidenced by her self-portraits, she loved a drink and a smoke. Her crowded drinking scenes, including Dolphin Bar (Drinks All Round) (1979), immortalise the traditional pub culture of the day, which is now facing significant, long-term decline. The Last Gasp (2007) depicts three women nattering in a pub, one of whom puffs on a cigarette while an ashtray filled with butts is cleared away. Its title laments the 2007 smoking ban, which made it illegal to smoke in enclosed public spaces in England, and is one of the few occasions where Cook, who generally shied away from politics, comes close to political commentary.

“I’m just painting people enjoying themselves,” Cook said repeatedly, which is why the painting Stonehouse Ward (2005) is so startling. Three nurses hurriedly wheel an unconscious patient on a gurney through the titular ward, a scene that Cook witnessed while visiting Derriford hospital in Plymouth. We don’t know if she knew the patient or what prompted the composition, but in a practice that consistently foregrounds pleasure, humour and joie de vivre, it is a rare example of the artist giving consideration to suffering and mortality.

Beryl Cook, Back Bar of the Lockyer Tavern, 1976. Oil on board. Courtesy of www.ourberylcook.com © John Cook 2025.

Cook was a regular visitor to LGBTQ venues, often with her neighbour, Brian Pearce, who performed in drag as Ruby Venezuela. Her depictions of queer nightlife reflect her open and accepting attitude in a less tolerant era. In Back Bar of the Lockyer Tavern (1976), a group of men are waiting for the drag acts to begin. One has borrowed a friend’s crutch, waving it above his head as he shows off his jaunty dance moves. From the mid-20th century, the Lockyer became a safe space for gay men to meet at a time when homosexuality was still illegal in Britain. It was eventually demolished in 1980, and Cook’s paintings have become important documents in the queer history of Plymouth, not least because they depict the pub’s patrons through a lens of joy. Indeed, whether painting the LGBTQ community, older women, the working classes or even sex workers, Cook always treated people with care, compassion and honesty.

Cook received many letters of appreciation from gay and lesbian people, who thanked her for representing their lived experiences and making them feel seen. Some of these letters are on display alongside other choice selections from her vast archive of correspondence with artists, critics and the public. It also reveals that she had many art world admirers, not least the critic Edward Lucie-Smith with whom she enjoyed a close friendship. Another regular correspondent was the photographer Barbara Ker-Seymer who had been associated with the Bright Young Things and greatly admired Cook’s paintings.

Beryl Cook, Portrait of Freda, late 1960s–early 1970s. Oil on board. Courtesy of www.ourberylcook.com © John Cook 2025.

Although Cook didn’t go to art school, she was evidently well versed in art history and understood her place within it. It is not hard, for instance, to detect the influence of artists such as Edward Burra and Stanley Spencer in her pictures. She greatly admired these painters and both are included in the exhibition alongside works by other artists with whom she felt an affinity, such as Peter Paul Rubens, who similarly enjoyed painting plump and curvy bodies, and Pieter Brueghel the Younger, another sharp-eyed observer of people. She also made several paintings in the style of artists including Alfred Wallis, Tamara de Lempicka and Amedeo Modigliani. Whether Cook sought out original works by these painters or knew them only from reproduction is perhaps a moot point; her mimicry is surprisingly accomplished and indicates her wide-ranging art historical interests.

The exhibition’s curator, Terah Walkup, has pulled out all the stops here: the gallery walls are painted in joyfully bright colours, many rarely and never-before exhibited works are included, and numerous objects from Cook’s archive provide new insights into her working methods. A fascinating selection of photographs taken in bars and on the streets reveal references for several paintings, while a display of small sketches made furtively in pubs evidence how she captured ideas in the moment, annotating them with observations about clothing and colour. We also learn that Cook had a charming yet limited sculptural practice, creating small figurines from papier-mache, which she sadly didn’t pursue. More surprisingly are her many experiments with textiles, including needlepoint tapestries for cushion covers with explosively abstract and colourful designs inspired by seaside amusement arcades.

Although Cook experimented with different media throughout her career, painting always remained her first love and means of expression. Her social observations of everyday working-class life are filled with laughter, fun and friendship. That dourness rarely featured in her visual vocabulary perhaps explains why she was so loved by the public, many of whom recognised themselves in her colourful, body-positive characters. Distinguished by a warm humanity and a refreshing lack of pretension, Cook’s art is a joyous, life-affirming portrait of late-20th-century British social life that deserves a second look.