Believe it or not I have the lid open in the middle of the baltic sea where, thanks to my good sister, we all have passage and board to Helsinki upon the Viking Line. It has indeed proved to be a great relief to get away and reflect a little away from the familiar spaces of normal life. The two sketches of my children seemed to me to be the most appropriate next creative step following those ones of fathers deathbed which I am far from comfortable looking at.
Father's death has left a great absence in all our lives and that includes the little ones who are struggling with the strangeness of death and this time I have nothing much to tell them in terms of comforting ideas. I tell them that it is strange for us all and that it is natural to feel strange but the words do not matter I feel but being together in the strangeness is all important. And together we are bobbing on the baltic with some of the most energetic Scandinavian revellers I have yet come across. I was informed this morning that the previous evenings entertainment included Finnish Tango on the top deck!!
The funeral was on Friday 20th at the little grieving facility attached to the sjukhus. An intimate family affair that father would have been comfortable with I feel. No priest, no candles, no fuss just close family, a few mementos (we displayed his beloved yellow racing bycycle) and a few good stories. All was arranged by the spouses of myself and Kate and all went smoothly. On the day Kate volunteered to take the helm based on her ability as a public speaker, an idea I found surprising in that speaking at ones fathers funeral is hardly the same emotional pressure and I was worried for her that either she will not be able to cope and then kick herself for not giving the right send off or that she might switch to an overly professional mode. In the event she found the perfect balance and did the old man proud by talking up the intellectually curious sides of him that may be unknown even to those close to him. His interest in philosophy, religion and politics are certainly key to his character but are also aspects of his personality that diminished rapidly with the dements and to listen to Kate's memories it appears that while he and I were enjoying the delights of pitch and putt golf and Zorrow he was discussing the ancient Greeks with my sister! Well I am happy with my end and as I said in my little tribute, he gave me a million reasons to laugh.
I spoke of his imagination, of his humour, how he travelled the world, how wonderful he was, how he brought a smile out everyone he met on the street here in Norrtälje and how that made his day. But I spoke also to the little ones of this troubling strangeness and how, without recourse to religion, we can think that something of him has separated and moved on ("your grandpa is not in that box") and I am proud to have quoted Van Gogh on the topic of the impossibility of our comprehending death. A quote from letter 638 that I have long taken comfort from: "Just as we take a train to get to Tarascon or Rouen, we take death to reach a star. We cannot get to a star while we are alive any more than we can take the train when we are dead."
With that and a couple more stories of his famed absurdist humour we adjourned back to the flat for a reception. All told our send off was just right but the main tribute will be in Glasgow where we will take him in February to rest with his mother. The rest of the family over there have been sending their tributes and condolences which Kate read out and it was very moving to hear what he meant to so many people so long ago and I look forward to hearing more on our visit.
Here on the ferry we pass the time with the other guests, on a merry go round of breakfasts and buffets; how it all seems like an Agatha Christie1 mystery.
My children have appeared and have made straight for the sea of balls which represents the entertainment for the underaged.
We had a day in Helsinki which I had hoped to spend in front of Street in Auvers-sur-Oise at the The Ateneum but alas it was closed and my day was spent with the little ones at the flamingo water park instead. A much better option but that street scene is an unfinished and would I am sure reveal some secrets, just as the abandoned Cezanne still life in the national does.2
We are well amongst the archipelago islands now, on our return and are due in Stockholm in some forty minutes so I shall cut this short as I simply must be on top deck for the approach. But we must say a few words about the future of our DS work which is I feel not by any means assured to continue in its present form. To begin with it is highly likely that I will take some breaded position at a grocers or behind some wheel before long, and this in combination with a rethought care schedule for my mother who will feel at once a release of pressure from the full time care, only to be replaced by loneliness. This re-jig alone may well account for us and annihilate our practice straight away, at least in its current form as the painting requires time, concentration, mental space and money, all of which shall soon be scarce commodities. Options to continue our mission and themes include simply a reduction of frequency or perhaps turning only to sketching or music. Yes music. I may as well tell you this now. You see, for what it's worth, I am your MirrorMan. Yes, that droning wretch who somehow secured the position at SONGBOOK NORRTÄLJE is me and I see no reason to hide that fact now;3 I play Van Gogh for you and an amalgam of Dylan and The Dude3 for them. To be sure the music plays second fiddle to the painting. Let us be clear that plein air work is the work I am dedicated to for life. The music is something to amuse one after a day in the fields but it did nevertheless prove to be a vehicle for comment and meaning comparable to our DS work and with the SONGBOOK project petering out perhaps I could turn to the songwriting for us, just while we get back on our feet and into the field. What would you say if I threw a few verses and choruses your way instead of the oils?5
To be quite honest my head spins with grief and my stomach lurches on the waves so I know not whether such an idea is folly or an exciting prospect for growing our practice, after all, as we have so often said in the past, 'it doesn't have to be painting, it could be carved wooden spoons'.
Yours,
John
PS Last night in the cabin I began reading Don Quixote and based on the remarkable prologue it seems that it will bring us fruit.
1 British detective.
2 Refers we think to Still Life With Water Jug in the national gallery in London.
3 The Dignity Scholarship concept of Doing is not specific to any medium.
4 Possibly in reference to a film entitled The Big Lebowski.
5 We informed John that it was okay to send music provided that the themes of the Dignity Scholarship are refereed to in some way.