My father died in 1999, and we travelled down to Norfolk in order to sort out his estate. While we were there a neighbour called round to the house. I knew that Harry was an artist, but I had not realised that he had painted a portrait of Dad. This was news to me. The situation was a curious one. Evidently Dad had not liked the result, and had declined to accept it. Would I like to have it? Of course, I accepted.
Mentioning the experience to other family members, I discovered that the picture had not met with favour by any of them. Poor Harry had been left with his picture: but I was delighted to take it. It was not hard to see why the family responses had been so negative. Harry had captured in his portrait an aspect of Dad’s personality which rarely appeared in public. Dad was one of those people whose public persona was both very strong, and very visible. (As Sammy Davis Jnr. once said about himself, he was “always on.”) Harry’s version of Dad, no doubt discovered in the shelter of a private friendship, was quiet, reflective, and possibly revealed a streak of self-doubt.
Members of the family found this version of Dad to be unfamiliar, and had interpreted this as meaning that it was a bad portrait. I knew better. During the period in which I had been wrestling with issues surrounding my divorce from my first wife I had spent time with Dad, talking things through. Although he had been disturbed by the situation, and disappointed, he had listened and appeared to understand.
Probably this will not be its permanent home, but it now hangs on the wall of the studio.