When I first came upon the photography of Martin Parr in a colour supplement at some point in the 1980s, a very loud bell rang. Here was someone who was pointing out with laser precision the aspects of society I didn’t even know I was driven by. He framed anthropological observations that I didn’t yet know I was fascinated by.

Class, identity, individualism and belonging, what it is to be British: in these subjects, Martin’s photos are my guiding text. Often the most affecting encounters with culture are those that make concrete the wisps of feeling we have been sensing for years. For me, the photographs of Martin Parr did just that, and I’m sure they have done the same thing for millions of other people all over the planet.

Since that encounter, his work has been a guiding beacon for me, pointing out patterns and dissonances in society, but more importantly showing me how to look. Over his long and prolific career – he has produced more than 100 books and many more exhibitions – Martin has developed an anthropological “satnav” that will take him to where his hyper-developed image-making skills can play and disrupt. His genius is not just in spotting the shot, but in booking the flight and getting the access.

What I sensed in those photographs from the off was an ambivalence about the subjects that I shared. I look at images of county ladies stuffing their faces, tourists trapped in clichés, drunken revellers and the jolly grim British working classes, and they all seem to be hovering uncomfortably between comedy and tragedy.

Humour bleeds through all these photographs, but also compassion. “How dare you take yourself seriously?” they say, but then “Let’s celebrate that impulse” – in a quietly bonkers, British way, naturally.

Like all great artists, Parr has altered how we see the world. We see a queue of posh people, a buffet served on a Union Jack tablecloth or a lurid beach scene and we think of his work. He is one of the foremost chroniclers of our times.

He sees our tender aspirations, our vanities, our sincere enthusiasms, our anachronistic traditions, our often unpredictable diversity – and he both ribs us and applauds us, blinded by his flash and decked in saturated colour.

All photographs © 2019 Martin Parr. Text extract from ‘Introduction’ by Grayson Perry © 2019 Grayson Perry. The exhibition Only Human: Martin Parr is at the National Portrait Gallery from 7 March to 27 May 2019 (npg.org.uk). The accompanying book Only Human: Photographs by Martin Parr is to be published by Phaidon (phaidon.com).