British artists Maggi Hambling and Sarah Lucas met at the famed Colony Room Club in London on their shared birthday, Oct. 23, a quarter-century ago. Hambling was turning 55; Lucas, 38. Ever since, they have shared a creative kinship—and many nights in Suffolk pubs. This winter, an exhibition across two London galleries, Sadie Coles HQ and Frankie Rossi Art Projects, serves as a testament to their personal and professional connection.
The show, “OOO LA LA,” opens Nov. 19 and coincides with a landmark Rizzoli monograph on Hambling and a major museum survey of Lucas at the Museum of Contemporary Art Kiasma in Helsinki. In conversation, the duo proves as mischievous and unsparing as their work: quick with a story, skeptical of legacy, and endlessly hungry for experimentation.
You first met on your shared birthday at the Colony Room, introduced by the late writer and man-about-town Sebastian Horsley. Looking back, what did that encounter spark in terms of friendship and artistic kinship?
Maggi Hambling: Sebastian Horsley was a fantastical presence in my life, calling me “mother” while I called him my “wicked son.” He posed for me in life, and I continued to paint him after he died. Thanks to him, Sarah and I met at the Colony—both well-lubricated—and fell into each other’s arms with delight, recognizing something important in each other.
Sarah Lucas: Not long after, I got a place in Suffolk close to where Maggi lives. We began running into each other at social events there as well as in London, and gradually it turned into making arrangements—birthday drinks, supper at the pub, that kind of thing.
You’ve portrayed each other in your work over the years—Sarah with Maggi, 2018, and Maggi with oil portraits of Sarah. What does making these works reveal?
Lucas: We’re having another go at it. Mine’s unfinished for now, but it’s very amusing and compelling. I’d rather leave it to the sculpture to say what’s discovered.
Hambling: I always try to paint the spirit beneath the surface. With Sarah, it’s her aspect of being poised for action. My third attempt at a new portrait goes for that action.
The new Bury Street exhibitions are described as revealing “life’s proximity to death” and a “defiant exuberance.” How do you each balance that darkness and vitality?
Hambling: By magic.
Lucas: It’s more about balancing it in life and mood. I’ve always been a bit up-and-downy—more so as I get older. In art, it’s a matter of embarking and seeing what jumps out. Recently we’ve been meeting in a more purposeful way: Julian [Simmons], my partner, photographed us; I cast Maggi’s feet and had mine cast. It’s unusual to see each other in work mode, and the social side of that feeds in too. Brewing up a spirit that I think will enter the show.
Sarah, your “Bunny” sculptures, created with stuffed stockings, aim to “bring old things back to a state of freshness.” Maggi, you’ve said painting creates an “eternal present tense.” How do you see art reanimating the past for the present?
Lucas: I usually use fresh tights—rarely the used kind, unless they’re very special. But yes, I work with things that already exist. Maybe nostalgia plays a part. Art has to bring freshness or novelty, otherwise we’d be bored. To be uplifting, it has to be surprising. But everything comes out of what went before. It’s rare for art to arrive completely out of the blue.
Hambling: Oil paint is live, sexy stuff, which, in the right hands, is permanently happening—past, present, and future—on the canvas in front of the viewer. A painting can only move people insofar as the artist has been moved by the subject.
Maggi, this fall you mark your 80th birthday with a Rizzoli monograph featuring voices like Cecily Brown, who you once mentored. How do you reflect on longevity and legacy?
Hambling: Thank God for Cecily and New York for saving my life at the time of my heart attack in 2022. I never reflect on legacy. As I get older, I try to say more with less, and continue to make everything an experiment.
You’ve both lived in Suffolk for decades. Has rural life shaped the way you work?
Lucas: Not directly. The way Maggi uses the sea, for instance—I don’t do that. But circumstances always slip in. I just do what I do.
Hambling: My routine’s the same in London and Suffolk: up early, make a drawing. The difference is the sense of the whole day in Suffolk, with its changing time and light. In London, it’s monotone. But it’s useful to leave a painting for a couple of days, whether in the city or the country. Paintings cook while one isn’t with them.
What kind of stories emerge when you’re together?
Hambling: They just happen, and they’re unpredictable.
Lucas: Maggi always has a story up her sleeve and presents it beautifully. I’ve no idea what I say— whatever’s triggered by the question or by Maggi. But if the audience applauds, I think: That must have been all right then.
What do you hope audiences will see in the dialogue between your works—and perhaps in your friendship?
Hambling: I never dictate. It’s up to people whatever they see, whatever they feel, whatever they take away.
Lucas: I’d hope it makes some sort of picture of friendship.
What can art do?
Hambling: Food feeds the stomach but art feeds the spirit.
Lucas: When a show is good, it makes people feel better. That’s the result I hope for.
in your life?
