I like to think that I have sailed through the nine months of restriction because of the current pandemic with little trouble. In fact, I have almost boasted on occasions of the way in which the halting of several of my formerly regular activities has opened the way to a time of unusual productivity in my art. Today, however, I realised that this can not be the whole story.
We normally listen to music during dinner, and tonight I chose a CD of late Sinatra songs. I think that I had not been listening for more than a couple of minutes before I began to crumble. “Singing to empty tables” was almost more than I could take. Before the meal I had been looking at the Sean Jefferson catalogue I mentioned yesterday, and thinking that it would really be good to see his exhibition in London. Then, leafing through Apollo magazine, I also noted at least two exhibitions in the capital it would also be exciting to see. (In the case of the Gentileschi exhibition there will probably never be another opportunity in this country in my life-time.) Normally we would arrange a couple of days down there, taking in a few exhibitions and visiting the theatre. Now, strictly speaking, a plan like that is strictly off limits.
The Sinatra song hit me so hard because I am sure that traffic through my own show at the South Square Centre will be slow to non-existent under current circumstances. A huge amount of effort went into its preparation, but now I’m “singing to empty tables”. (If you are reading this blog, of course, you can switch to the “galleries” elsewhere on this website. The material in question is in the “Malta Suite”.) It would be really good if I could “sing” to you.
Incidentally, in yesterday’s posting I repeated a sentence from the Sean Jefferson catalogue, to the effect that “the job of the artist is always to deepen the mystery.” Today I discovered that he was actually quoting Francis Bacon. Credit where it is due!