The Ten Days Following the Queen’s Death

In the ten days following the death of the Queen, I completed five paintings of the public’s reaction to the proceedings. Here’s the story behind the paintings:

Friday 9th September 2022

I was walking the dog in Bath in the early morning of 9th September, the day after the Queen died, and it suddenly occurred to me I should be at Buckingham Palace, so I headed quickly home and jumped into the van.

I arrived in London mid-morning to find The Mall and the roads surrounding the palace closed to traffic. Walking from Admiralty Arch, The Mall was filled with people making their way to Buckingham Palace. I joined the foot traffic with my easel and boards, passing another artist working on a small square painting of the crowds pouring past him down The Mall. The world’s press was at the Victoria Memorial – I mean tonnes of them – talking to camera and interviewing the public.

On the right were the white gazebos. On the left, a little more haphazardly, were various foreign crews. The parameter paths behind the flower beds, slightly elevated, had been cordoned off for the press. I thought I would set up in front of the flower beds. I was told off. ‘You are not allowed on the grass!’ This came from a man standing on the bar of an iron fence to get a better viewpoint of the palace.

I moved onto the pathway and set up. I painted. It was busy but weirdly calm. I was there because I was simply curious to see what the public reaction would be. I noticed a lot of dogs. I wondered if there was a correlation between dog lovers and royal followers. As one of the crowd, I was interviewed throughout the day. But I noticed as soon as I said I was not a royalist and was merely curious, the interviewers would lose interest. This was not part of the story. They wanted tears and disbelief that she had gone. And of course, I spoke to loads of other people, or rather they spoke to me. I worked on that 8” x 24” all day, and as I packed up and headed back to the van with the crowds up The Mall, I was a bit dazed. The penny was beginning to drop that this was going to be a really big thing.

Tuesday 13th September 2022

I did not return until the following Tuesday when the hearse would bring the Queen to Buckingham Palace. This time, I set up where the press had been – a little further back now, not cordoned off. The flowers that had been placed on the palace railings had now been moved to Green Park, and a one-way system had been put in place. Those that wanted to pay their respects were herded left off The Mall, through St James’s Park, across the front of the palace and on to Green Park to add their flowers to the ever-growing display. I never did get to see the flowers. The weather was a bit grim. I had not brought an umbrella and it rained off and on.

I was interviewed by more press. My story had now changed to admitting huge respect for the Queen who had never asked for the job and yet behaved near immaculately for 70 years, in stark contrast to our recently ousted Prime Minister who had embarrassed us all in less than three years.

I was a bit shocked by how shocked I seemed to be. On asking myself why, I concluded that she had – in a way – been the wallpaper to our lives all this time. I think my position was quite a standard one. I kept posting on the family WhatsApp group updates on who had interviewed me – CNN, The Times, The Mirror, The Wall Street Journal – but the biggest ‘whoop!’ came from Hello! Magazine.

There was no crush where I was. In fact, the whole area was beautifully managed. The foot traffic moving slowly and quietly, bar a bubble of low-level chat. Beside me were a couple of families who were getting to know each other – I think they discovered they were both Liverpool fans. The lady next to me had the BBC feed on her phone tracking the progress of the hearse from RAF Northolt.  It took an age. It was getting dark. The palace lights were beginning to light the façade pink. The pedestrian traffic built up and security guards started to move barriers to arrange the public where they wanted them before the arrival. It was remarkable to see. Rather like seeing a farmer deal with sheep, penning them off, then releasing the crowd when they had prepared a new area to stand. It was the shape of things to come. There was a big cheer and round of applause which I assumed was like the ones that had spontaneously happened on the Friday. But when I looked up later, I noticed the half-mast Union Flag was now replaced by the Royal Standard. It must have been the arrival of the family. Eventually, it got too dark to paint and I waited with the others to see the hearse come in.

Wednesday 14th September

We had a meeting with Mall Galleries in the diary on Thursday to review the NEAC Annual Exhibition. Clare O’Brien the CEO informed us that roads around The Mall including Carlton House Terrace would be closed. So I stayed at Barry and Ian’s in West Drayton on Tuesday night, and on Wednesday morning – for my first time – caught the Elizabeth Line in.

I got to The Mall around 8am and decided to get to the park side, walking up and down for a view.  Eventually, I found a spot on the gravel at the junction of The Mall and Horse Guards, looking through the trees with their dark trunks, flashes of the gleaming union flags appearing through the leaves. Mainly I would be painting people waiting for the big drive-by. As would happen a lot, the police suddenly decided to make the area I was standing sterile, and I was moved off as barriers were manoeuvred. I moved back 20 yards, scrubbed what I had painted and started again.

The crowds built. I was on the corner of an Admiralty building, next to the path which fed people around from The Mall to Horse Guards. As the morning wore on, it got busier. I started to move my easel back as people encroached, but they just filled that space.

Suddenly, however, the traffic stopped. Everyone dissipated, finding a spot to stand, and there was ample room for us all. The police had sealed off Admiralty Arch, so we were now stuck in between the arch and Horse Guards for the next two-and-a-half hours. The area had become a haven as we awaited the procession. There was even a coffee stand on the gravel of Horse Guards.

I saw a woman in a long black overcoat looking stressed, trying to get access further down The Mall.  She was denied. It was closed off. At the same time, a film crew were trying to do the same thing. They were longer in the tooth, less stressed and accepted the fact that they had come too late and were not going to get the shot.

The woman in the coat approached me 20 minutes later.

“You OK?”

“Not really. I’m from the Mirror. I am supposed to be at the Victoria Memorial.”

She checked her phone.

“Yes. They are saying ‘Our reporter is currently at the Victoria Memorial.’ Anyway. I have fucked that. So ‘Pete the Street’ It seems you are now my big story . . .”

She interviewed me but, as it happened, it seemed I wasn’t her big story.

Afterwards, everyone wandered towards Trafalgar Square. We bottlenecked at Drummonds Bank, by those yellow steel gateway things they put up. I asked a couple of policewomen what the holdup was. They asked to see my painting.

“Is it wet?”

“Yes. I’m a bit worried about it being smeared up someone’s trousers.”

“Don’t tell anyone,” she said, as 20 people watched her lift the barrier and let me through towards Carlton House Terrace.

I dumped my stuff and wandered back to Trafalgar Square. Free of traffic, people were wandering all over it. I heard a conversation with a woman who had flown in from the States that morning.  She had not made it through Admiralty Arch before they closed it off and spent the three hours in Trafalgar Square. You could not even see down Whitehall as it had 20-foot-high steel hoardings across the top.

Thursday 15th & Friday 16th September 2022

I came in via the Elizabeth Line again. I only had until 1:30pm before our meeting at Mall Galleries. I thought I would paint “the queue” and so walked down Whitehall. Fences kept people on the pavements and the road was devoid of traffic.

Parliament Square was buzzing with people, film crews and workmen. The queue was filing into Westminster Hall. Lamp posts were being taken out of the ground. I carried on through, hoping to get a view of the queue winding back and forth in Victoria Gardens.

It was quite a sight from the foot of Lambeth Bridge but I was not allowed to set up. Crossing the bridge, following the queue back, I found a spot behind a satellite news-feed van on the pavement looking down to the Thames Path and the queue. It was perfect with Parliament in the background. I started painting.

I was interviewed by someone from the Wall Street Journal who would have preferred to have been at her photographic exhibition about indigenous Americans back in the States. A security guard guided a Die Welt news van towards us and nearly squashed us both against the fence. The reporter persuaded them to move while she took a snap or two before they moved back. It was snug between the van and fence, but they were very nice offering me a chair.  Fred, the driver, was a keen photographer and spent much of his free time snapping me and the surroundings.

We spent both the Thursday and the Friday mornings together as they searched for their satellite and I painted the ever-changing queue, managing to capture the odd person before I would obliterate them with someone else. A man from the garden museum over the way introduced himself asking if he could take a snap. His boss used to manage the Holburne Museum in Bath and we got chatting. He returned later to tell me, with great excitement, that David Beckham had been spotted in the queue. If he had not told me he was wearing a dark coat, black face mask and Peaky-Blinder hat, I would not have noticed him.

It was not much to go on, but I put a few strokes that resembled what I saw. I know it was Beckham. Later, someone called Sandra came to have a look and a chat. I told her Beckham had queued for hours to which she simply said, “So did I”. She had gone straight from work the night before and queued through the night. She said it was well worth it and was now on her way home.

I had a meeting on The Strand on Friday afternoon so, again, could only paint until 1:30pm.

Monday 19th September 2022

“Don’t go anywhere near London,” said the BBC.

They said the same for London 2012. On that occasion, I took their advice and missed the Olympics.  But this time, I joined two million others and headed in. I realised everything would be sealed from at least Hyde Park Corner so aimed for just north of Bayswater Road which was as close as I could have got.

I walked through Hyde Park passing eight large screens, with 200 or so people set up with chairs flasks, picnic blankets and sandwiches. I thought it would be a good painting, but could it be better in Green Park? I spent the next hour being shepherded in that direction. I decided it was a bit too full on, leaving just before they shut the tall steel hoardings, sealing the park off.

I returned to Hyde Park where I set up out of the way and painted the morning unravel in front of me. There was more of a festival atmosphere where we were, which grew as people poured in from Park Lane. I heard one couple muttering about people not showing due respect, but in the main everyone seemed to really enjoy it.

They were not going to go hungry. There were lines of festival-style food and drink stalls. After the funeral at the Abbey, I realised my ‘quiet spot’ was by the canons and people – desperate to see something in real life, as opposed to on-screen – rushed towards and surrounded me to watch the canons fire every minute until the procession got to Hyde Park Corner. And then, as far as London was concerned, it was over.

I hit the road, driving home as the procession to Windsor and the service at St George’s Chapel played out . . .