My friend Josephine Harris, a gifted glass engraver and painter whose life was shaped by her deep love of art, has died aged 89. A unique friend to many, she enjoyed a special bond with those who shared this love.
In 1948 Josephine enrolled at the Plymouth College of Art where she developed an observant eye and a talent for drawing. In 1958 she moved to London, in anticipation of gaining a place at the Royal College of Art, which, sadly, did not materialise. Instead she took a job working behind the scenes at the Royal Academy of Art as secretary to the keeper of the schools. Here she became a familiar figure, scuttling from the front office to the schools at the rear of the building, notices to students in hand, each one addressed in her beautiful italic handwriting.
Throughout her years at the RA she continued to work on her own drawing and painting, regularly exhibiting in group shows, including the RA Summer Exhibition, and becoming a member of the Royal Watercolour Society and the New English Art Club. An interest in glass engraving developed and was eventually to become her chosen career. She went from studying the craft to teaching others, ultimately being made a fellow of the Guild of Glass Engravers. After many years at the RA, Josephine took a courageous plunge, leaving her salaried post in administration and setting herself up in a studio behind Barnes High Street, to concentrate on a constant flow of glass commissions.
But it was in becoming a brother of the Art Workers’ Guild that was the true making of Josephine. Never having married and not having a family of her own, the guild became her home, where she was able to share her interests with her fellow brethren and, with never a shred of envy, to rejoice in their individual triumphs. Being selected as master of the guild in 1997 was her personal triumph. She had suffered a cyst on the brain the previous year, and had undergone critical surgery to remove it, but insisted that she would undertake the (not undemanding) role of master within months of her operation.
Born in Plymouth, the only child of Major Percy Harris and his wife Muriel (nee Martin), Josephine’s army childhood encompassed many moves and various schools, including a spell in York. The family returned to Saltash, near Plymouth, after the war, and she concluded her education at Moorfield private day school (1946-48). This nomadic start in life taught her to meet every new challenge, every new face, with the open enthusiasm that was her engaging charm.
Growing increasingly frail in recent years, Josephine was cared for to the last at home in Barnes by devoted friends.
