Generally speaking I have managed to survive the past year and the Covid-19 epidemic with a degree of equanimity. I think I can say truthfully that I have never really felt threatened by the situation. (A part of that unconcern, of course, might be due to the fact that nobody close to me has been seriously affected by it.) It has just been a matter of taking reasonable precautions in the area of hygiene, being considerate to others, and getting on with the the job. This morning, however, a new emotion intruded into my awareness, and I was quite startled to realise that this was fear.
It was not the case that, suddenly, I felt that I was more likely to catch the disease, or if I did more likely to die from it. Those thoughts never entered my head. No: my sudden dread was that I would have nothing to do.
Despite the fact that so many of my accustomed activities have been forcibly suspended since March, it has been quite a busy period. We did manage two brief holidays in remote country cottages, and I have certainly put in my share of time in the garden. The fact of the matter is, however, that I have been far more actively engaged with my art than at any time I can remember. My Wassail! project ran to ten individual images, and the Green Man series to eleven, in addition to several other individual pieces. I have never been so busy. Regular readers of this blog will also remember the burden I experienced as a result of the decision to update thoroughly my website. In addition to these activities directly related to art, I realise on reflection that I have read a great deal. Its has been a busy as well as a creative year.
This morning, however, as I sat down in my usual way to draw up a list of the things I needed to do during the day, quite suddenly I found myself facing the possibility that, on the eve of yet another severe “lockdown”, I might have nothing to do. A good part of yesterday was spent ruminating on the possibility to beginning correspondence with potential exhibitors. What if they had all gone into voluntary suspended animation for the duration of the pandemic? There are several substantial tasks we contemplate in the garden, but it is far too soon to begin any of them. We have been talking about some alterations and decoration in the house, but can make no progress with those at the moment. Worst of all: I have absolutely no focussed ideas for new painting projects!
I can pass a little time by doing a jig-saw puzzle, or a crossword. There is a bit of reading I could catch up on. And then …. ? I have to admit that in that moment I experienced a definite wobble in my equilibrium. We will be in “lockdown” for at least another month. What on earth will I do with myself?
After the initial panic things have settled down a little. One of my correspondents has replied indicating that they are able to think about future exhibitions. Today I passed a good bit of time addressing the long-overdue task of clearing out my life-drawing folders.* Passing my eye along the book-shelves in a preliminary survey, preparatory to chucking away or selling a load of unnecessary material, my eye fell on Christopher Marlowe’s Doctor Faustus. Earlier in the year I became quite engaged with the Faust theme, but then found myself diverted into something else. I really would find it interesting to revive that project. Yes! There are things to keep me creatively and usefully occupied. It was, I have to admit, a very nasty moment, in which it is no exaggeration to say that I “felt the fear”.
PS: Here is an anecdote recounted by Alan Bennet. George Steiner once asked a Soviet dissident how he had managed to achieve so much. “House arrest, Steiner. House arrest,” was the response.
*There were some pleasant reminders of old successes as well as a load of stuff to dispose of which had no obvious reason why they should have been kept.