Pillar to Post: SUNDAY REVIEW / THE LAST MODERNIST

Some art critics called Ken Howard's paintings "too easy on the eye."
In this day and age, what's wrong with that?

By the Staff of PillartoPost.org

Ken Howard painted like a man who didn’t trust trends and didn’t need them. While much of the art world veered toward abstraction, he stayed stubbornly loyal to what he could see—light falling across a shoulder, a window catching late afternoon, the slow shimmer of Venice. He called himself “the last Impressionist,” not as a slogan, but as a working method. For more than seventy years, he chased light the way some painters chase ideas.

He was born James Kenneth Howard in 1932, in Neasden, north-west London, the younger of two children. The talent showed up early and didn’t ask permission. He could draw and paint before he could write, which tells you something about how his mind worked—image first, language later. A teacher at Kilburn Grammar spotted it and pushed him forward, and by 1949 he was at Hornsey College of Art, already on a path that didn’t bend much for anyone.

National service in the mid-1950s didn’t slow him down. If anything, it gave him subjects—portraits of officers’ wives, practical work, the kind that sharpens the hand. After that came the Royal College of Art, where he found himself out of step with the prevailing fashion. Abstract expressionism was the language of the room; Howard wasn’t interested. He kept his eyes outside, in the tradition of plein air painting, with Corot somewhere in the background and light doing most of the talking.

He said it plainly: light was the point. Not metaphor, not theory—light. And London, for all its energy, began to feel wrong for that pursuit. So in 1958 he took a British Council scholarship to Florence. That move mattered. Italy, and Venice in particular, gave him what London couldn’t—a different kind of light, softer and more elusive, something you had to work for. He kept going back, year after year, until it became less a destination than a second home.

Critics early on could be dismissive, the usual complaint—too pretty, too traditional, not enough edge. The public didn’t care. They saw something honest in the work, and they stayed with him. He had a run at the Royal Academy Summer Exhibition that most painters would envy, and he knew it. At one point he quipped that he probably had more paintings on people’s walls than anyone else alive. It sounds like bravado, but there’s a quiet truth in it.

By the 1960s and 1970s he wasn’t just succeeding—he was defining a lane. Eventually he became one of the steady hands of British painting, elected to the Royal Academy in 1991 and later serving as Professor of Perspective. An OBE followed, which says more about his consistency than any single canvas. He also led the New English Art Club and supported Turner’s House Trust, shaping younger painters whether they agreed with him or not.

Howard spent most of his life working in London, always returning to it even as Italy pulled at him. He died in September 2022. What he left behind isn’t complicated: a long, disciplined conversation with light, carried out in paint, without apology and without drift.

Ken Howard, left, painted what he could see and trusted that to be enough. While others chased abstraction, he stayed with light—on skin, on stone, on water—and let it do the work. He called himself “the last Impressionist,” not as a pose, but as a statement of method. For more than seventy years, he returned to the same question: how light behaves, and what it reveals.

He was born James Kenneth Howard in 1932 in Neasden, north-west London, the younger of two children. The ability came early. He could draw and paint before he could write, which set the order of things for the rest of his life. A teacher at Kilburn Grammar School recognized it and nudged him forward. By 1949 he was at Hornsey College of Art, already moving with purpose.

National service gave him steady work—portraits, close observation, repetition. Afterward, at the Royal College of Art, he found himself at odds with the prevailing taste. Abstract expressionism dominated; Howard stayed with direct observation. He worked in the tradition of plein air painting, with Corot somewhere behind him and his attention fixed on what was in front of him.

“Devonport Dockyard, Plymouth—depicting a Royal Navy destroyer, 1982.

Light was his subject, plain and simple. London began to feel restrictive, so in 1958 he took a British Council scholarship to Florence. That shift mattered. Italy, and especially Venice, gave him a different register of light—softer, more fugitive, never quite holding still. He returned often, working there for long stretches, building the body of work for which he is best known.

Some critics early on dismissed the paintings as too easy on the eye. The public saw something else and stayed with him. His success at the Royal Academy Summer Exhibition became a fixture, and he once remarked, not entirely joking, that he probably had more pictures on people’s walls than any other living painter.

“Venice (Santa Maria della Salute)” —Untitled plein-air study

By the 1960s and 1970s, he had secured his place. Over time he became a steady presence in British painting, elected to the Royal Academy in 1991 and later serving as Professor of Perspective. He was appointed OBE. He led the New English Art Club and supported Turner’s House Trust, influencing younger painters by example as much as instruction.

Howard lived and worked mostly in London, with Italy always in the background. He died in September 2022. What remains is a long record of looking closely and painting what was there, without deviation.