Life is a series of moments. Moments that either nourish or diminish us. In my art practice I try to paint moments that sustain and convey serenity. I tend to listen to Pat Metheny when I paint, above all other musicians. His music is uplifting, complex, soaring, dream-like, transcendent, hymn-like, with soundscapes that transport me to other worlds, even universes. I would love to meet him. Fortunately, during this time of covid, I have sold more paintings than ever. I occasionally feel the overwhelming sense that our perceptions are being managed and there is a drama addiction forming. It has always been thus, in matters of main stream news. To detach from MSM drama, I disconnect from it, paint, listen to music and walk, see friends, contemplate nature, read books. I have fallen in love with the book ‘A Theatre for Dreamers’ by Polly Samson. It is possibly the best book I have ever read, and that’s saying something. It hooks into so many parts of the Romantic in me. I don’t want it to end, so I am reading it slowly.
After the rain last night, I walked into the garden. The air was gentle and the Snakes Eye flowers were standing so straight and tall, the earth was breathing and the green was greener.
The other day, Ellie and I found a special place above the bowling green in Hastings. It was like a secret space overlooking the sea. The sea was azur-blue. We met some friends, and had gin and tonics and laughed and talked of everything and nothing. Yesterday my friend Jo poured prosecco into long-stemmed glasses and we toasted the sea again from her balcony overlooking the channel. Moments like these sustain and nourish in difficult times.
It looks like we are going to have to wear masks in shops, and even though I only go to my local farm shop, and never go into large shops, I have bought a stack of them, as well as one made from cotton. Cognitive dissonance feels like a near-constant companion. I think about the madness of crowds, and realise that I will never run with any crowd and that my thoughts can be politically, viscerally and philosophically inconsistent with other thoughts. This is a time in history when we are forced to reckon with our own prejudices and previously held beliefs.
“It is a serious thing just to be alive
on this fresh morning
in the broken world.”