Life with Michael Finn, My Father

I remember my father as a gentle and loving family man, who cherished his wife and children. When I was little, he would drive me uncomplainingly to pony club gymkhanas and other events, even though we all knew that he would much rather be painting in his studio. He enjoyed family walks and riding one of the ponies when it needed exercising; we galloped along grassy stretches of the Somerset countryside and the whole family, followed by the cat, roamed across the fields behind the house, picking horse mushrooms in the autumn.

When the family first moved to Cornwall, my father moved effortlessly from gymkhanas to regattas and we had a small rowing/sailing boat rather than a pony. As the family grew, I was allocated a third of his studio as a bedroom, which meant that university vacations were times when I literally lived with the paintings in progress. From my earliest recollections, friends and relatives were often at meals; conversations were lively and centred on art, artists, books and ethical issues. My parents read widely, my mother preferring novels and poetry while my father often was reading Simone Weil and Wittgenstein. Visiting Falmouth Art School was a particular treat for me when exhibitions were on; the work was challenging and inspiring. Growing up with art all around me was something which I took for granted, as our house was full of my father’s paintings and pottery bought from promising students or well-established potters.

By the time my parents moved to Corsham, I had left home and only returned for holidays with my husband and young children. My father was then known in the family as ‘Gumba’, which was my eldest son’s attempt at saying ‘Grandpa’. We were welcomed into a family house full of activity, with my younger siblings and various cats adding to the excitement. My father’s studio was now a short distance away through the park, at Corsham Court.

Gumba seized every opportunity to work on his paintings when not immersed in art education or engaged on family matters. Once he retired and moved back to Cornwall, he could at last work full-time in his studio, and he had almost twenty years of peace and quiet to get on with his painting, interrupted only by family visitations. As the years progressed, crucifixes began to appear next to paintings, with the workshop below the studio gradually filling up with interesting bits of wood. My father’s Catholic faith had always been very important to him, and he would reiterate that the over-riding value in life was love, both of God and one’s neighbour. He had a deep conviction that his paintings and crucifixes were both an expression of, and an attempt to describe, his deep spirituality.

My father felt very strongly that people were more important than any other consideration. He cared constantly for my mother, who had a complicated health history, and he was interested in everyone’s life and their point of view. He enjoyed doing the shopping in St Just, as it involved chatting with the various shop-keepers. There was always laughter when Gumba was around, as he had a keen sense of humour and loved life’s quirks and paradoxes.

Having a loving, tolerant, understanding and yet highly-principled father has been of immense value to me and to my family. It has been a joy and a privilege to be part of my father’s journey as a fine artist and to appreciate the many art works he has created.

Christine Tutt (eldest child)