Flights of Fancy

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I found myself in a back room at the British Museum this week, looking at pen and ink drawings. I took a couple of photos of simple but stunning sketches by Picasso and Rembrandt.

20120519-123215.jpgAs a child, I remember being taken to see Michelangelo’s cartoons and being mightily disappointed they weren’t a patch on Hanna-Barbera. They were instead faded brown pastels. How times change.

Why the reappraisal – I’m much taken by Ernst Gombrich’s narrative that art of the Dark Ages was flat and naive because it was telling you something. The idea wasn’t to lose yourself in clouds, folds of garments or acres of flesh – but to ‘read’ a very simple and profound message. Almost always an illustration of virtue, sin or gospel truth, simplicity and directness were the point.

This takes me back to Aristotle’s Poetics – plot trumps spectacle and no more or less than is needed. Were I to embark on a painting I’d feel constrained to ‘represent’, to paint ‘well’ and show some technique.

Perhaps that’s not the point, the starting point for the artist is: ‘what am I wanting to say or explore?’ As with poetry, seen this way we are not ‘trapped’ by the fact that everything has been painted more beautifully by Titian, or precisely by the Dutch masters or bleakly by Caspar David Friedrich or vibrantly by Van Gogh.

20120519-090306.jpgThe job of the artist is simply to convey what they want to say or explore. Technique and materials come second. No need therefore to hack off our beautiful – or rudimentary – artistic wings. We can all have a go.

Life and soul of the party

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As something of an introvert, polite company comes best for me in modest doses. Not that I can’t be the life and soul of the party. Just that there’s a finite amount of it I can do. Once my reserves are exhausted, I switch off and get very tired.

Amusing to be interrupted in animated conversation with a friend babysitting for us last night – as we headed off to a worthy house party. The missus pointed out I only have so much sociability, so perhaps best not waste it all before we’ve even got out the door.

Still I could be worse. I read today that the famously cerebral Immanuel Kant’s biographer noted:

The brilliant recluse preferred to walk alone for a very particular reason: ‘he wished to breathe exclusively through his nostrils; which he could not do if he were obliged continually to open his mouth in conversation’.

Kant argue with that.

Terse Verse

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If music be the food of love
Is poetry a bowlful of life?

A question crossed my mind the other day – do I only spontaneously write poetry when I’m cross about something? I’m sure I’ve written happy poems, but the impulse to bash out some verse seems to come more often than not through irritation, stress or annoyance. And often banal and mundane at that – from flat tyres to ineffective dishwasher tablets. Take this one:

Duzzit doesn’t

Rare to see such disinformation
In a modern formulation
Dishwasher tablets are all the same?
But Duzzit is to blame
No discernible cleaning
A film all over my pots
Unilever and P&G may be pricey
But their brands leave no spots.

This set me thinking. I read a few months back that musicians live longer, poets die sooner. Is it a bit like comedians? Making people laugh is – by all accounts – a sad person’s trade.

Perhaps it varies from person to person. But, for me, I think poetry comes more often as a venting of steam than a bucolic breeze. Still, better out than in.

Of Sheds

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Montaigne offers a top tip for he (or she) who would keep themselves sane:

That man, in my opinion, is very miserable, who has not at home where to be by himself, where to entertain himself alone, or to conceal himself from others.

When at home, I a little more frequent my library, whence I overlook at once all the concerns of my family.

Surely this is why men have sheds. A man needs his ‘domain’ however small. Given our postage stamp-sized garden, the kitchen by night largely serves for me. But a shed one day would be nice. As for a library, a man can dream. Lucky old Montaigne.

ProductiviDad

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Working in South America nearly 20 years ago, I made a breakthrough discovery: if you know an English word ending in ‘ity’, you know the Spanish word if you replace it with ‘dad’.

This increased the variedad and utilidad of my conversations 100%. Sometimes the necessidad to find an opportunidad to use a ‘dad’ made esponteneidad a dificultad. But new vocabulary had opened a new world of possibilidades.

Now I am a Dad, the combination of children, work and life makes productividad an absolute necessidad. And blimey I’ve been productive this week. School runs, presentations, objectives, appraisals, cooking, cleaning, mowing the lawn. Phew. But with hindsight not enough time for thinking, reading and friends.

It’s all very well being ‘ProductiviDad’ but the good life needs a bit of ‘contemplación’ too. All work and no play makes Juanito a dull boy.