Ian Archie Beck’s peaceful paintings illuminate the “simple beauty” of British suburbia

If you’ve spent any time in the suburbs of the UK, Ian Archie Beck’s paintings will probably spark a sense of recognition. Symmetrical houses, tree-lined streets and a sense of isolation that’s rare to come across in inner cities, his paintings capture moments of stillness. The peace and comfort of a seat in the back garden, or the strange sense of in-between, an early morning walk before anyone else has risen, or a snowy winter day that’s kept everyone else huddled up inside.

Ian’s creative journey has seen many phases. Born in Hove, he recalls being magnetically drawn to the art that surrounded him as a child – the illustrations by Pauline Baynes for CS Lewis’ Narnia books, or the advertisements and drawings he came across in newspapers and magazines, like Eric Fraser’s works for the Radio Times. Later attending children’s art classes at a college in Brighton, Ian had dreams of attending art school. “I applied and was lucky enough to be accepted,” he says. “This changed everything.” He studied graphic design and illustration, and was “fortunate” enough to be taught by some big names, including John Lawrence and Raymond Briggs, illustrator of The Snowman.

After graduating, Ian found work illustrating fiction and cookery pages in magazines, while also working with album cover designers like John Kosh, who he later worked with on Elton John’s Goodbye Yellow Brick Road cover from 1973. Later, the birth of his son Edmund piqued his interest in illustrating children’s books, thus marking the next phase in his career, in which he spent years both illustrating and later writing works for children.

It was the 2020 pandemic lockdowns – and the “exceptional” spring of that same year – that inspired Ian’s most recent turn. “The short, confined walks with my late greyhound Gracie around my local streets concentrated my eye on the light in my surroundings,” he says. First, he painted the view of his house from his back garden, drawn to how the afternoon light illuminated the yellow forsythia that trails his back wall. Unlike other artists, who seek out experimentation later in their careers, Ian found this connection with concrete, everyday subject matter “a kind of liberation”. He continues: “Having painted from my imagination for so long, to suddenly confront the everyday things and places around me took hold and continues to this day.” Now, after finding such artistry in his everyday spaces, Ian likes to think that his paintings might encourage others to do the same, helping them to uncover and appreciate the “simple beauty” of their own surroundings.

As such, Ian doesn’t consider himself to really have a “style”. Instead, he likes to work instinctively, “layering colours, adding and subtracting” as he goes. But since that first painting, one thing has stayed a central fascination and fixation for Ian: light. Bleeding through the leaves of trees, or made hazy by passing through a pair of net curtains, no matter how complex the rays or dappled the pattern, Ian has a wondrous ability to capture light at its most enrapturing, those fleeting moments that you feel lucky to have experienced. Such dedication to instances of spectacular light has given some of Ian’s images an intriguing glow of sorts, which adds a dreamlike edge to his otherwise everyday scenes.

Another occurrence Ian is drawn to is the seasons, or specifically, how they can alter an otherwise identical scene. Since Ian painted that first scene from his back garden, the seat in his shed has now become a space of ample inspiration, with every glance from his desk now proving potential for a new piece. In two compositionally identical paintings, Ian shows the view at the start of autumn, greenery still fresh yet with hints of yellow emerging and a wash of golden light, illuminating the house in a warm glow that you can almost feel. Whereas another piece shows the same scene in the midst of snowfall, light emanating from the dusting of snow that lies on the trees and grass, as opposed to the sky which remains an impenetrable grey. Each piece evokes different feelings and sensations, but together they become a subtle reminder of the seamless passage of time, and the vast physical changes – that we so rarely take time to truly notice – that come with it.