Driving over to Manchester today I was thinking about the party we went to last night. It was a great occasion, celebrating 60 years of the marriage of our next-door neighbours. It was a chance to meet folk we have not seen for some time. Also we had the opportunity to dance.
My wife and I have not danced for some time, since she had a serious back injury. The thought of reviving it by an injudicious movement has been a terrible inhibitor. Last night, however, she decided that we just had to dance to our favourite dance tune (Van Morrison’s Moon Dance). I found it a tremendously emotional occasion, and the recollection of it has been with me all day.
I found myself asking why something of the intensity of the emotion of that kind of experience doesn’t find its way into my painting. There is an emotional reference to what I paint, but as often as not it is referred to indirectly, or implied, or hinted at.
There is no simple answer to my own question, and I can see that it will be with me for some time to come. The replies to it I came up with today were all very unsatisfactory, in that they were sentimental, but not truthful expressions of a genuine emotion. I can see that this will be with me for some time to come.