Peppe Talk: The Extraordinary Talents of Rodney Peppe

Where has Rodney Peppe been all my life? And now that I’ve finally discovered Peppe how on earth can I possibly describe him? Is he primarily a writer or an illustrator, a toymaker or an engineer? The truth is Rodney Peppe is all these things and unlike many a Jack-of-all-trades-and-master-of-none, Peppe displays expertise in all his chosen disciplines.

I’m not quite sure how Peppe’s work has slipped past my radar all these years. I have probably been looking for art in the wrong places; in the usual places, the expected places. With no little charges of my own to relive a second childhood I have hitherto neglected the area of childrens' books.

It is time to set the record straight. Rodney Peppe is one of the most prolific children’s authors working today (with over eighty books published to date). During a retrospective of Peppe’s work in the recently restored Torre Abbey, I was able to see for myself the keen perceptiveness and originality that define his work.

The Wonderful World of Rodney Peppe is a fitting title for the exhibition.  And what a world it is!  The first thing that strikes me is just how much art there is.  Filling two rooms on the top floor of Torre Abbey, Peppe’s art is truly an impressive body of work.

The toys and automata are the primary focus of this exhibition and they engage and enthral to such a degree you feel you could while away the hours wandering amongst them.  There is the pirate kettle ship, the egg box that doubles as a lunar capsule; the wicker basket serving as an aeroplane.  By using traditional materials, Peppe is effectively reclaiming and refashioning them, finding new uses for old-fashioned everyday objects.

You do not have to be at school to feel yourself transported into a different world by the sight of these toys.  What I find refreshing is that while there is so much imagination on display, there is also a pragmatic side to Rodney Peppe.  Typically he makes models first to see how they work.  After each model, the book and its illustrations take shape. 

Each model comes with a deceptive simplicity attached.  Peppe provides the concept.  In each case the functionality of the object provides the springboard for the imagination.  From the ordinary, the extraordinary is conceived, whether it is visually engaging with the model of Uncle Sam riding in a circle or understanding the ingenious system of cogs or motors behind the surface reality.

Each model is a work of art in its own right.  You can admire the beauty and the craftsmanship but also appreciate the idea behind it.  But unlike much of modern art there is not cleverness for the sake of being clever.  As a projector plays in the background, Peppe himself appears to guide you through his working methods.

I hear fragments of the interview as I admire the wooden model based on William Blake’s “Tyger! Tyger! burning bright” and Peppe’s version of The Twelve Days of Christmas.  There is no virtual transference on display, just the craft of the toymaker, the creative vision behind it and the engineering logic that makes everything work. 

Art and science have often been treated as mutually exclusive.  Watching Rodney Peppe’s work, learning just how everything works, you distinctly enjoy the benefits of both, proving art and science can happily co-exist. 

An exhibition of this size would undoubtedly have crowds jostling in a city gallery but here there are no other visitors.  It is as if you have stumbled into a toy museum and feel a closer connection to the artist because of having the place to yourself.  There is a palpable sense of sadness, too.  The wooden toys and models on display are in a sense symbolic.  They stand for a profound cultural shift away from the traditional pleasures of learning through playing and using. 

Before the console generation, children effectively invented their own reality by playing with wooden toys.  Unfortunately for many of today’s youngsters, this tactile, interactive pleasure has been lost.  We hear a lot about how real virtual gaming worlds look on screen but this is surely a poor substitute for traditional learning methods.  In the virtual world, children effectively enter into someone else’s vision of reality.  By playing with toys they have the ability to create their own universe.  It is an important part of growing up.

It is to the gift of creative imagination that Peppe offers each model, concept, toy, book, illustration.  His work does not rail against technology or the use of other media to communicate his ideas (Huxley Pig was converted into both an animated series and a platform game for the Commodore 64 in the 1980s.)

Transformation by costume is a popular theme in children’s television (the most famous example being Mr Benn.)  Downstairs in one of the Abbey’s many connecting rooms, episodes of Huxley Pig are played on a constant loop.  I watched an episode called Huxley Pig at the Beach which possessed a rich vein of humour adults would appreciate.  Huxley goes to the seaside but his relaxation is interrupted as he is sold snacks, deckchairs and offered advice on do’s and don’ts such as don’t feed the seagulls.

It is a prescient piece, satirising the pettiness of council rules and regulations.  There is a delicious multi-layered irony.  The episode is playing in a building whose renovation was sponsored by Torbay Council.  The council manage and co-ordinate the schedule of events including this exhibition.  We are literally a stone’s throw away from the nearest beach where these same rules are evident on statutory notices.  Perhaps we should allow Rodney Peppe the last laugh at the council’s expense.

Later, while taking a stroll nearby, I notice the signs that have been plastered everywhere by the council killjoys.  “Please don’t feed the ducks,” it reads, “because it encourages unwelcome visitors like rats and mice.”  So that particular avenue of pleasure has been closed, I mutter under my breath, wondering if there is anything we are allowed to do anymore that has not already been prohibited.  For a moment I am unable to decide whether I have ventured out into the real world or have become an innocent bystander in the world of Huxley Pig.  Somewhere Rodney Peppe is probably still laughing.