The site welcomes any memories and anecdotes relating to Henry's personal or professional life.
If you would like to have your story posted here on our site, then please use the contact form provided in order to send it to us.
‘With regards to the first exhibition in 1962 I remember that I think Rita (1) and I went to that exhibition. I definitely did. It was somewhere in the centre of London and I remember thinking how posh the gallery was and could not believe my father had his pictures exhibited there. A lot of the titles referred to Tractatus?? and the gallery owner, or whoever had put on the exhibition, had a copy of the book so people could refer to it (2). They treated dad with a lot of respect. I felt quite grown up to be there. I was all of 14 years old. There were not too many people in the exhibition when I was there and cannot remember if it was a success or not. I do not believe it was that successful as the pictures were so way ahead of their time (3). I think that dad won the competition with a non-machine drawing but put a lot in the exhibition. I could be wrong (4).
With regards to Cybernetic Serendipity I remember going to the exhibition and going into a very large hall which was really crowded. There were so many spectacular exhibits and working models that I could not believe that our father could be part of this amazing spectacle with his machine made from what I thought of as spare parts. I had a catalogue and was trying to find where dad was when I came across him doing a demo of how he created a painting. There was quite a large group around him, which quite surprised me, and they were very interested in the art. Dad, as usual, had one of his cigarettes (1) in his hand. It was probably long dead but it was his trademark at that time. It made me quite proud to be his daughter and it had never really occurred to me that anyone would really be interested in his art and the machine.'
(1) Henry, until the 1980s, smoked roll-ups. I remember my poor mother being driven almost to distraction by all the butt ends she used to find deposited in odd places around the house.(Elaine O’Hanrahan)
Submitted by Ann-Marie Clifton (b. 1948), eldest daughter of Henry.
Memories of Cybernetic Serendipity (1968)
‘I was five years old when I first stood transfixed, at eye level watching Henry’s first machine in action as it whirred gently away in the front bay window of his study. In the early sixties, I often enjoyed creeping into the study to gaze at the hypnotic motions of the machine’s arm holding a pen or pens going round and round then juddering and twitching every now and again. It was a source of constant fascination to see the pictures gradually emerging over the surface of the paper. Sometimes my father (Henry) would rise from his chair at his desk and join me at the machine to add a penny to the arm of the pen or attach a peg to the drawing paper itself, in order to modify the outcome of the design. Over the years I quite often felt more than a bit sorry for my father, as he seemed to be the only person who believed in his machines and I would often feign polite interest in them in order to just be kind to him.
Submitted by: Elaine O'Hanrahan (b.1957), youngest daughter of Henry.
L.S. Lowry himself visited our house in Burford Drive, Whalley Range. I remember peeping out from behind my mother’s skirt as a tall, very stout gentleman in a heavy overcoat came through our front door. As he removed his hat before being ushered into my father’s study, I recall he had grey bushy eyebrows, small, piercing eyes and a short, grey, untidy mop of hair. Years later my father recalled how Lowry was offered a sherry –it was about 4.0pm- but all he wanted was a glass of orange juice. My father also explained how Lowry had come to make sure that as the winner of the Salford London Opportunity competition (1) Henry had a genuine artistic ‘oeuvre’ to his name and had not merely just produced a few drawings for the sake of the Salford competition. It was during this visit that Lowry first saw my father’s machine-generated work and encouraged him to include examples of this in the prospective London show.
I well remember being driven in a black cab round London at the age of five in the summer of 1962 on our way to the Reid Gallery where my father’s pictures were. Someone pointed out Buckingham Palace to me and explained it was where the Queen lived. We seemed to be in an almighty rush (1). Once at the gallery, my father lifted me high and carried me around looking at the pictures together. He explained how a red dot on a picture meant it had been sold which made him very pleased indeed. So I kept a sharp look out for red dots. It is his machine drawings that stick in my memory from this show, rather than the none-machine ones.’