My wife and I will be making one of our “raids” on London next week. It seems ages since last we did so, and we are both looking forward eagerly to the trip. One of the principal reasons for my going is the retrospective exhibition of work by Paula Rego, at the Tate.* I think that there are two main aspects of her work that attract me. I can’t think of any other living artist who is a greater exponent of work in pastel. Also (although it might seem pretentious to say so) she is also somebody whose approach to art is close to my own. It is symbolic and expressive, and I have decided that one way to sum this up is to say that it is never simply of something, but invariably about something. There is an inner, personal mystery hidden in each picture. The feature of Rego’s art that makes it so uncomfortable personally is that as often as not the subject which she is exploring involves pain, in one way or another …. either her own or that of others. I’m afraid that I probably exemplify too much the classic, stereotypical Englishman, in that I am still mired in the culture of the proverbial “stiff upper lip”. Too frequently viewers are left to guess at the meaning of images which are played very close to my chest. Perhaps the visit will help me to loosen up a bit.
*We also managed to see a film of her work the other night, on TV, which has really whetted my appetite. I love her work, but what a strange person she is! This is one visit we will not be making together, as my wife actually dislikes her work.