Astrid's Life

Astrid

When I first met Astrid we were both working with students at the then Hornsey College of Art & Design in 1964. Astrid was in the Fine Art department, and I was on the other side of the corridor in Graphic Design.

Both of these departments were housed at that time in the old Badminton Suite of the Alexandra Palace in North London. As such there was always considerable interchange between faculties, and I spent much time photographing the work of the fine art students.

It was not long before Astrid approached me to ask if I could photograph her work. I readily agreed, and that was the start of a friendship that was to last until her death in 2005. During the intervening years we discussed, and I photographed almost everything that she was involved with. They were exciting times, because we were part of an evolving process. Astrid was always highly innovative in her use of materials and I was keen to record every stage of her work.

Away from the art and photography, we would spend many hours dining on her remarkable stews, imbibing endless bottles of wine and solving the world’s problems. I don’t think there were many aspects of our lives that we did not share, but for all of that Astrid managed to compartmentalise her life in such a way that people in one compartment rarely knew anything about the others. I knew about most of them, but could still be surprised by finding myself in the presence of Polish diplomats around her dinner table. Introducing people by name sat well with Astrid, but position in life meant little. To her we were all people and her friends. She could never abide the cloak of pomp for its own sake, all that mattered was that people were kind to each other and being smart or clever was just a bonus. She firmly believed that religions and political beliefs were the root of much evil, and bearing in mind her background that was very understandable. I can honestly say that during the entire time that I knew Astrid I can never remember her saying an unkind thing about anybody. She had a sincere conviction that all people were really good ]

The Freeman family photo anon front row Manfred, Anita and Astrid

Astrid, Manfred and Anita

Since I have touched briefly on her early life, it is perhaps right, before proceeding, to correct some curious rumours. Astrid and her siblings had a happy life in Germany and were well educated at the time they came to England. They came from Germany, not Poland. They were fostered, and never adopted, by the Freeman family. I do trust that all of those who have been party to these rumours take note, and do not endlessly repeat them. Astrid, in common with others, had little faith that the media could be relied upon to tell the truth, and it was for this reason that she shunned appearances and interviews.

I had the very good fortune to meet Mrs Freeman. A wonderful lady, who, although in her nineties, had a lively and enquiring mind. One of those truly unforgettable people.

The award of the MBE for her work on the Montreal Expo 67 Exhibition came, I think, as something of a shock to Astrid, and she was utterly bemused to find herself thrust into an alien world of royalty and palaces. I photographed her wearing the award on her denim jacket and I am sure that she never really understood what to do with it.

As a sculptor she soon developed a style that was unique to her, whether the piece was one foot or twelve feet high. She became well known for her work associated with exhibitions or displays and she imbued even the largest with a sense of life and vigour. Astrid did not do sad, gloomy or introspective work. There is always a vivacity and urgency for life present in all that she touched. Even the elderly sit with dignity and look outwards to the world and the future. Her animals manage to display strength, power, grandeur and compassion at one and the same time. They are never dangerous or threatening.

Perhaps they are a little like Astrid was herself. As a diminutive figure of less than five feet, she still had the power and energy to command a sizable work force in her studios, and yet this was accomplished with an almost imperceptible control that would be the envy of many a company director. They could suggest ideas to her, but knowing only too well that in the end her decision was final. People didn’t argue with Astrid, they respected her. I had occasion to observe the same quiet determination even when in foundries surrounded by large men pouring molten bronze.

Perhaps her greatest strength lay in the fact that she was never unsure of her own artistic abilities. She may not have been sure how the dry rot under her stairs would affect the house, or where the money to pay bills would be coming from, but when she drew a line she was very sure indeed.

If Astrid had any fault it was in accepting commissions that she would never have time to complete. There was always work outstanding, but that in no way meant that she was tardy. The reality is that she was never late for appointments or failed to remember when visitors were due.

At times I suggested that someone should help to manage her affairs so that she would be free to give more time to her art. However, she always resisted this idea, preferring to remain in total control of her day-to-day business.

Throughout her life she was always going to have an exhibition specifically of her work, but for one reason or another this never happened. She confessed to me that the problem of getting an exhibition together was just too much effort, that she would need to create special pieces for it, and the outcome would only be more commissions than she could deal with. In retrospect this may well have been true.

Now that these endless commissions can no longer worry her, her friends and family are planning an exhibition of her work in London. It will be very interesting to see just how many pieces can be gathered together for this occasion. Many are scattered around the world, from the Far East to America, and just how many of her models made for exhibitions remain, will be difficult to determine. Unlike bronze, they were made of less durable substances, and few replicas were ever made.

Many of Astrid’s bronzes are small, but there are a number of larger works such as the magnificent statue of Orpheus at Harewood House in West Yorkshire, and that of Sir Winston Churchill, commissioned by The Sultan of Brunei. The exact destination of her individual commissions was not always easy to determine. She would talk about the commissioner, but frequently seem uncertain for what the piece was required. This may only be my perception, but I think it was another example of the manner in which she compartmentalised her life. As will be seen from the illustrations on the following pages, there is plenty of evidence that work was undertaken, but I am frequently at a loss to describe its present location. I am hoping that others may be able to assist in this matter.

I am likewise puzzled by the chronology of Astrid’s works. I was never certain when things were completed, since there always appeared to be many overlaps between them. I would see some particular piece for many months, and then discover one day that it had been finished, cast and delivered. The one thing that I can be fairly certain about is that the number of commissions that came her way overwhelmed her. I don’t think that Astrid liked to say “no” to people, with the result that many things were never even commenced.

She was meticulous about her work, sometimes spending many weeks of research into form, fashion and character before becoming involved in any practical construction. She would also spend a great deal of time considering her next action, especially if it was to be a casting. On such pieces Astrid did not work quickly and those that commissioned her needed to understand that many months could pass before the final result would be revealed.

Her method of working was normally to create a Plasticine maquette from which an enlargement would be made in the normal manner. The maquettes were then kept on shelves in her studio, and when untouched many survived for a considerable number of years. In reality, though, they became very fragile, and I fear most of them will now have been lost.

When a maquette was used as the first step in a same size casting, it is my understanding that the originals would not have survived the process, making the final castings the only remaining examples.

Her large exhibition pieces were never intended to last much longer than the event, but some at least are still around, and I suspect that they will last for many more years if taken care of. They were constructed using welded metal formers and wire mesh, over which Astrid’s magic formula was applied. This, so far as I can remember, was a mixture of Gypsum plaster, mica insulating material and fish bone glue. It was applied hot and cooled to a resilient material that could be shaped by chisel and file. Hair was normally made from thin strips of felt dipped into the hot glue. Such material will survive well under cover, but is very susceptible to water damage.

These exhibitions could be very demanding. I think that Expo 67 required around forty-five pieces, each more than life size. For this work it was necessary for Astrid to find locations other than her studio, since it was labour on an almost industrial scale. At these times she would enlist the help of trusted students and colleagues from the art world to help with constructing the enlargements of her maquettes.

In her later years she felt that the physical demands of sculpture were too great, and more and more she turned to her other great love, that of etching. All of her work in this field is in private collections, but two examples are displayed on this web site.

Throughout the time that I knew Astrid I endeavoured to photograph as much of her work as possible, either in progress or completed. The result is a very large collection of material, some of which is displayed on the following pages. I still have no photographs of some of her later bronzes that were done after I left London, and could not find the time to capture before they were sent to their new owners. I would be pleased to hear from anyone with photographs from this era in order that they might be included on this site.

Others, no doubt, will have seen differing sides to Astrid, but the fact remains that we have all lost a very dear friend who will be sorely missed.