Richard Hamilton at Tate Britain | Swingeing London

Richard Hamilton, Swingeing London 67 (f), 1968-9. © The estate of Richard Hamilton. Photo © Tate (Jai Monaghan)

Tate Britain director Alex Farquharson’s rehang of Tate Britain, revealed to the public on May 23, has been much derided in the press. The Guardian called it ‘vacuous, worthy and dull’; the FT suggested a ‘hectoring’ and ‘self-righteous’ tone to the labelling. But there are, to be fair, many positives to come out of it, and one is that the British pop artist Richard Hamilton has been given his own room.

You might have expected such an honour to go to one of the leading lights of post-WW2 British art – Frank Auerbach, say, or David Hockney, or Bridget Riley. But Farquharson’s rehang remit has been to give more room to works with a moral or political message (as well as to women and artists of colour) and Hamilton’s pioneering pop art certainly packed a political punch.

A visit to the Tate can be a little overwhelming – there’s far too much to take in, in one visit – so it is pleasing that a bench has been provided which offers a view of three versions of Hamilton’s Swingeing London, created between 1967 and 1972. The series is based on a newspaper photograph taken of Rolling Stone Mick Jagger and gallerist Robert Fraser, handcuffed together in the back of a Black Maria, in transit from Lewes Prison to their trial at Chichester Magistrates Court, soon after the famous Redlands drug bust in February 1967. 

In the image, the two men have raised their hands to obscure their faces, revealing the fact that they have been handcuffed together. The handcuffs become the focal point of Hamilton’s paintings, each rendered in a different style. In one, he has incorporated metallised acetate to highlight the cuffs, a symbol of the reactionary rigidity of the British justice system.

The title of the series is a play on words. Robert Fraser, aka ‘Groovy Bob’, was the owner of a Soho gallery which became known as the epicentre of the ‘Swinging London’ scene of the mid-60s, its private views frequented by models, fashion designers, trendy young artists and pop stars. During the trial, the judge declared: ‘There are times when a swingeing sentence can act as a deterrent’, condemning Jagger to three months (later reduced to a fine) and Fraser to six months in prison (of which he served four, in Wormwood Scrubs). A swingeing punishment for the man who epitomised the spirit of swinging London: it’s a marvellous pun.

Hamilton commented, of the case: 'I felt a strong personal indignation at the insanity of legal institutions which could jail anyone for the offence of self-abuse with drugs. The sentence in the case of my friend Robert Fraser was blatantly not intended to help him through a sickness; it was to be a notorious example to others.'

Other works in the Richard Hamilton room include $he (1958-61), Adonis in Y fronts (1963), My Marilyn (1965), Toaster (1967) Fashion-plate (1969-70) and AAH! In Perspective (1963, remade in 1973). Other artists to have been given their own room include Chris Ofili and Annie Swynnerton.