I’ve just finished watching a film about the work of the great contemporary English painter Maggie Hambling. It was intended to contribute to my convalescence* but in some ways it feels as if it has made me feel worse. Probably it is always a mistake to watch films about people who are eminent in one’s profession. Leaving aside any of the obvious questions about native ability, clearly it is the case that I just don’t work hard enough. She is in her studio at 6.00 every morning. Furthermore, I have to admit that my art is an important part of my life, but also I confess that perhaps too many other things matters too much.
Several things about the film will stay with me. For example, I noticed that in her portraits it is always the case that one eye does most of the work of communicating character. In some respects her pictures based on animals had a greater impact on me than her portraits–particularly the dancing bear and the caged bird. I suppose that both of these had to do with the loss of freedom in one way or another. “We are all birds in cages,” was her comment. There can be many dimensions to the way in which one interprets that remark. I’m left reflecting, however, on the extent to which many of these cages are inside us rather than external impositions.
*The days before yesterday I went to the doctor to have a flue inoculation. (Normally I avoid these because often I have a bad reaction. The appointment was arranged craftily to coincide with other things I could not avoid. The result was a disaster. I woke up the next morning with a temperature, and feeling so bad that I actually ‘phoned up the NHS advisory line to check whether or not I might have cover-19. I don’t. In addition to he massive and painful bruise on the shoulder where I had the injection I have spent two days feeling utterly lethargic and with aching limbs. I think I would have preferred to skip the inoculation and just have the flu.