The artful dodger

AS HIS brush made its first mark on the canvas, he was already living a life less ordinary. After years on his uppers, Jack Vettriano was finally on the up. The sale of two paintings in a Royal Scottish Academy exhibition in 1988 had opened new doors for a man who, at one time, had expected to spend his life toiling in the coal mines of Fife. Now, as he started what would become his most famous image, he could display the confidence of an artist whose work, unlike that of so many, sold.

The Singing Butler, painted in 1991, would make him so much more than that: Scotland's most commercially successful artist, whose originals grace the mansions of Hollywood while prints hang on tens of thousands of walls around the world; a millionaire many times over; a celebrity in his own right, his brooding, hangdog face instantly recognisable at home and abroad; and an object of sneering derision among so many of his peers and critics.

Vettriano had no idea what lay ahead as he began to compose the romantic, sexually charged image of two lovers dancing on a beach as a butler and maid look on, umbrellas aloft. It was a scene - apparently of pure imagination - that was far removed from the grimy industrial background of the painter's upbringing, and the shadow of the power station that looms over Leven Sands.

The beach and the promenade, with its chip shop, ice-cream parlour and amusement arcade, offered a place of refuge, romance and belonging for the young Vettriano. It was where, as a teenager, he saw the fairground showmen set up camp with waltzers, dodgems and swingboats, bringing the promise of a merry-go-round of girls with beehive hairdos and stiletto heels.

It was these humble surroundings that inspired the self-taught Vettriano to paint the woman in the red dress dancing with a tuxedo-clad partner on a beach in the rain. Now, little more than a decade on, it is the best-selling print in Europe, more popular than Monet's Water Lilies and Van Gogh's Sunflowers.

Although Vettriano sold the original for £3,000, when it was auctioned on for a record Scottish price of £744,800 last summer, it took his popularity to new heights. His rags-to-riches story was, it seemed, complete.

But not quite. Last week the long-running debate contrasting Vettriano's lack of critical acclaim with his public popularity was reignited by the revelation that The Singing Butler was, in fact, inspired by a £16.99 artists' reference manual. Not only his most famous painting, but also several other works, appeared to be based closely on photographs of models posing in the book, which has been out of print for several years.

Long derided by critics, Vettriano has fought artistic battles before. The art establishment is distinctly sniffy about his work. Despite his huge popular appeal, no national gallery shows his paintings. Reference works either ignore him or grant passing mention, but there is a voracious public appetite for both his romantic early paintings and later works which focus more on the highly charged sexual atmosphere of human relationships.

His style flickers in the shadows between the loneliness of Edward Hopper and the nostalgic romanticism of old railway and movie posters. Fervent fans hold Vettriano parties, even wedding receptions, with the participants, venue and stationery themed in the artist's distinctive colours. It was one such tribute which last week poured new scorn on the "people's painter".

Born Jack Hoggan in Leven in 1951, into a working-class family, he did not enjoy any semblance of a privileged upbringing. There was no such luxury as the careless bohemia of art college. Hoggan, the future darling of Hollywood collectors, took his first professional steps in life with an apprenticeship as a mining engineer.

At 21, his schoolteacher girlfriend bought him a watercolour set. In the evening he sat in the back room of his parents' house struggling furiously with the Old Masters, such as William MacTaggart and Samuel Peploe. It is a romantic tale, the sort his buyers love. The same girl persuaded him to take evening classes and Jack the mining engineer quickly became Jack the pin-striped young Coal Board executive. Marriage followed alongside a comfortable life on the cosy road to middle-class success.

The 1988 sale at the RSA, however, had a bitter after-taste. His marriage on the rocks, Hoggan took the gamble, became a full-time painter and left for Edinburgh. In a symbolic break from the past, he also took his mother's maiden name and, in a retro suit and a pair of old brogues, his hair fashionably long, Jack Vettriano's old friends admitted they barely recognised him.

Under the wing of Tom Hewlett and the Portland Gallery, however, he found fame and fortune. In 1995 they famously celebrated their partnership at Raymond Blanc's Michelin-starred Le Manoir aux Quat'Saisons near Oxford. The foie gras rolled in grated truffle was a world away from the fish suppers Vettriano once washed down with Irn-Bru in Kirkcaldy.

But there was little to celebrate last week. Vettriano was accused, with varying degrees of hostility, of copying others' work and again depicted as a phoney, someone who doesn't paint, but merely colours in.

A close reading of the words that introduce the Illustrator's Figure Reference Manual, which sparked all the controversy, also give succour to Vettriano's detractors. "The manual has an instantly accessible image to satisfy every need," it says. "A simple indexing system ensures that the right shot can be found in a matter of seconds."

What Edinburgh-based graphic designer Sandy Robb found, in the "ballroom dancing - waltz" section was an image virtually identical to The Singing Butler. He said: "I bought the book 10 years ago and have used it for reference. My clients wanted a pastiche of Vettriano for their wedding invitations but the picture of them was only from the waist up so I had to look into the book to design their legs. That was when I spotted the likeness. I am completely taken aback by the furore that this has caused in the media."

However, Vettriano, who is self-taught, has never made a secret of his use of an illustrator's manual. When he started painting, he could not afford to pay models to pose for him. What has surprised many is that the figures in the book appear similar to several of his best-known works. As well as The Singing Butler, they include Dance Me to the End of Love (1997), Elegy for a Dead Admiral (1996) and Waltzers (1992).

The main characters in The Singing Butler appear almost identical to theones in the manual, although the maid's outfit changed from a flowery dress to a black dress and a white apron, and the butler has been given a bowler hat and a flowing white handkerchief.

For Michael Bury, a reader at the University of Edinburgh's history of art department, the similarities are predictable rather than shocking. He said: "Artists have always made use of other people's work but, unlike in writing, there is rarely any occasion when an artist has to admit it.

"Michelangelo and Rembrandt did the same. This does not in any way devalue Vettriano's work. All it really confirms to me is that he is not a very interesting painter. He is not someone of great imagination. Instead there is a superficial slickness in his work. It is very stylish and glossy and people find that appealing."

Iain Gale, Scotland on Sunday's art critic, agreed. "In terms of plagiarism there is no accusation that can be levelled against Vettriano," he said. "My problem with his paintings is that they are very dry. They do not really resonate or have substance. His use of light and shade is sub-art college stuff."

But even the greats, like the French realist painter Jean-Baptiste-Camille Corot, have sought inspiration from other people's pictures. Gale added: "Corot used photographs to create an effect in his paintings. So did the impressionists back in the 1860s. It is not quite as heinous a crime as it might seem."

While Vettriano made no statement about last week's events, his agent and dealer Hewlett did, saying: "It seems unsurprising that, as in his early painting years he had neither the time nor the money to work with real-life models, he should use a teaching manual. Vettriano's skill lies in his ability to create narrative paintings with which the viewer becomes involved. He is a master of generating atmosphere in his paintings and bringing to life the characters within."

A flick through the reference manual quickly reveals that Hewlett's remarks have solid foundations. Most of its 5,500 photographs, ranging from nudes to skiers and policemen giving a salute, are pale and lifeless in contrast with the intense colours that characterise Vettriano's work.

For some, however, the subject of the artist's merits remains too controversial to talk about. No one from the National Galleries of Scotland, which has never bought any of Vettriano's work, and which was accused of snubbing the artist earlier this year, was prepared to comment.

Edinburgh art dealer Mark Medcalf, who has bought several Vettrianos for clients in the past, said: "His paintings have encouraged a new kind of collector. They tend to be wealthy individuals and his reputation as the people's painter has played into his hands. But we have to be realistic. Vettriano's work is desirable but he has also been prolific. His weaker paintings have not been shifting of late."

Iain Gale added: "I would be surprised if he did not continue to sell well because he has a certain appeal. However, what has happened may put off new buyers. Some people will be saying: 'We didn't buy, oh lucky us.'"

However, Bernard Williams, the director of Christie's in Scotland, said: "This whole exercise has reminded me of people knocking Alex Ferguson after three bad results on the bounce. So what if he nicked figures from a book and painted them? He has a global appeal and that means he will attract interest. Seventeen people were bidding for The Singing Butler after all."

For many, though, the questioning of Vettriano's abilities was an opportunity too good to miss. Countless gleeful amateur "artists" were pictured copying The Singing Butler, typically boasting that it took them little more than an hour to paint.

But, as Williams said, Vettriano's appeal is global. Five thousand miles to the west, three of his paintings hang on Jack Nicholson's walls. Six thousand miles to the east is Hong Kong's China Club, where millionaire David Tang, another collector, hosted a dinner to celebrate a sell-out exhibition. In London, where Vettriano now lives, the Queen pinned an OBE to his chest.

Vettriano's next exhibition is at the Portland in April next year. But the public will not have to wait that long to see if last week's revelations have seriously undermined his reputation. Five of Vettriano's paintings, with guide prices ranging from between £5,000-8,000 and £50,000-80,000, will be going under the hammer at Christie's Scottish sale at the Assembly Rooms in Edinburgh on October 27.

None of the five works bears any resemblance to photographs in the Illustrator's Figure Reference Manual.

Rival artists enjoying frame and fortune

ALTHOUGH Vettriano is Scotland's best-known painter, he has several rivals - not just in terms of fame, but commercially too.

John Lowrie Morrison, who studied at Glasgow School of Art before training as a teacher at Jordanhill College and only became a full-time artist in 1997, is one of Scottish painting's biggest earners. He produces around 1,000 works a year, each signed "Jolomo". His art is characterised by bright colours and usually features scenes from the west coast of Scotland. In 2003, Morrison was reported to be earning in excess of £1m a year.

John Byrne studied painting at Glasgow School of Art from 1958 to 1963 and was considered a star pupil. In 1967 he sent some paintings to London's Portal Gallery, signing them "Patrick" and claiming they were by his father, a Glaswegian newspaper seller. His work became popular in the 1960s through his illustrations for the music industry, notably the portrait of the Beatles for their Illustrated Beatles Lyrics.

John Bellany studied painting at Edinburgh College of Art from 1960 to 1965. A scholarship took him to Paris and he went on to attend the Royal College of Art, London. The horror of the Asian tsunami last year led him to spend an intense fortnight painting four haunting canvases, each an imposing 11ft by 7ft, of the tragedy.

Peter Howson, who lives and works in Glasgow, became famous when he was made Britain's official war artist during the conflict in the Balkans. As a student he had discovered Picasso and Cubism, got interested in Salvador Dali and Surrealism, and studied old masters like Leonardo da Vinci and Michelangelo. More recently, he attracted controversy for his nude portraits of pop icon Madonna.