Badly Drawn Boy: Meet David Shrigley

The last time British artist David Shrigley held a book signing, he sat in a warm bar in central London, surrounded by fans of his plangent, insightful line drawings and dysfunctional cartoons. As they approached him, they stripped down to their vests, or rolled up their trouser legs, before having a bespoke Shrigley drawing applied to the skin. Such is the affection with which Shrigley’s work is held, that after such signings many devotees have the drawings worked over as permanent tattoos.

Often located in a version of the world in which characters indulge in acts of overt frankness, brutal violence or grotesque pettiness, Shrigley’s work strikes a chord with anyone who has ever struggled not to act on their baser instincts. His sparsely rendered texts and line drawings are syndicated across the most democratic of media, from guitar picks to salt and pepper shakers to greeting cards.

(See more on greeting cards.)

Both Shrigley’s popularity and use of comedy make him an uneasy fit in the often cliquey world of fine art — and thus a refreshing choice for a new exhibition at London’s Hayward Gallery. “Brain Activity,” a midcareer survey, is made up almost entirely of new work, and shows Shrigley’s imagination ranging on a large scale thematically and physically. One end of the space hosts a chamber consecrated to the subject of death; the opposite end displays a nursery of giant ceramic eggs. Between the two, in works on paper, film and in taxidermy, is ranged all the angst and poetry of a human life.

Tall, with a gentle, self-deprecating manner, the 43-year-old artist is finally becoming acclimatized to his status. “When I first had success, I felt slightly embarrassed, as if I was taking work from my diary and putting it on the walls,” Shrigley says. “My work was quite a personal, private thing. I think that the only ambition that I had was to be left alone to make art and not have to have a proper job.”

(See more about a previous exhibition at the Hayward Gallery.)

At the age of 20, Shrigley moved from Leicester in the East Midlands to Glasgow to study at the city’s conceptually rigorous School of Art. The scratchy line drawings presented on Post-it notes and photocopied paper that circulated the Glasgow art world during his early career cemented his style. Its genesis was a practical one: having no studio, on leaving art school his practice was reduced to whatever he could create between jobs. “When I first started, I felt that the drawings should be more sophisticated and demonstrate more craft skill,” he says. “After a short time I realized that there was no point. I stopped making the small concession to craft. That set me free.”

Crucial to the success of Shrigley’s art is a sensitivity to how the reading of a piece will be altered by its setting. “There’s always a context for any artwork,” he says. “Whether it’s a T-shirt, a gallery, an opera or a button badge — the important thing is that you address it and make sure that the work can function in that context.” The simple, unfinished appearance is also key to its accessibility. Offering the bare minimum of information, it leaves ample space for audiences to project their own life into the picture. Shrigley creates the punch line, but you write the joke.

“Brain Activity” runs until May 13. See southbankcentre.co.uk for details.

See TIME’s Pictures of the Week.

See the Cartoons of the Week.