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The silken ladder.
Rossini's opera La Scala di Seta, will be opening in Cape Town soon, I believe. And I shall be there. Not so much for the music as for the man's mind. La scala di seta... The silken ladder. Now there is an image that the mind can play with. Bob.I met Bob in Paris. I was in my garret at the time, living on a baguette and an orange, and sketching at the Alcazar by candlelight. For some reason I was adopted by the diplomatic circles in Paris, which is how I met Bob. We became friends immediately, and although I haven't seen him for decades, his story haunts me to this day. This is Bob, said Anne-Marie, he is the Second Secretary at the American Embassy. Then you'll know what Len Deighton says about Second Secretaries, of course, I said to him. No, what does he say..? Well, Deighton says that in any country the Second Secretary is code for Head of CIA. Bob laughed. Oh, he said, that it is a nice idea... We saw a lot of each other, and he would buy me dinners at good restaurants on his expense account. One day we drove to a gliding school outside Paris, and Bob went for a flight. On our way back to Paris he told me his story. He was a junior official posted to some South American country whose name I can't remember, a country in which a socialist president was coming into power. Bob kept a little yacht at a cabin on the lakeside border, where he used to potter about with his girl friend. One night at about 2 a.m, he was awakened by a soft knocking at his door. It was the girl, and behind her, keeping to the shadows, was and older man. Bob, she said, you have to help us. They are going to kill my father. He took them around the shack to his yacht and they set off on the moonless lake, sailing silent. It was dark but he realised who the man was... They made the border crossing safely, and said goodbye at the water's edge. Bob brought the little boat back alone, the eastern sky lightening. It was the last time he saw her. All this he told me at a small restaurant on our way back to Paris. We spent a lot of time together; an unlikely combination, a poor South African artist, and a senior American diplomat, but still, I was surprised when he came to the airport to see me off when I returned to South Africa that long ago summer. As I turned to board my plane, Bob called after me. Remember what you told me agout Len Deighton? Yes, of course, I laughed. Well, he said, It is true. So is this. I never saw Bob again. But to this day I am honoured to count him among my friends. My virtual gallery.I am now offering a small number of works for sale to those who are too far from Simon's Town to visit my studio. The rest of you, please drop in for a cup of tea. You can visit my virtual gallery here. What turns you on.Of my current students two are natural colourists. They produce images of exquisite beauty, but I sense their frustration at not being able to get accurate proportions. Another is a master at tonality and eloquent paint handling, but works in a rather monochromatic range. In both cases, the trick is to realise that there is not a problem. The work is beautiful. If your strength is colour, build on it; and if your strength is tone, build on that. If anatomy or energy, on that. Strength shines forth. It is better to have one great strength, than to be well balanced in every aspect of you art. In fact I believe it is better to have one great strength than to have strength in every direction. Too much balance, good colour plus good proportion plus good tone, can produce an overly photographic image. This is a terrible truth. To be good in every aspect can lead us to somewhat bland pictures, as it can produce rather bland personalities. We have to identify our chief strength and build on that. Nevertheless it is clear that it is better to be strong in all aspects than only in one. So what is the truly talented artist to do? You have to get out of the comfort zone of easy colour, easy tone, easy proportion. You have to get to the place where you work at the limit of your ability; up to and beyond the point of failure. When your work looks OK, remember the anatomy of Michelangelo, the colour of Tiepolo, the passion of Turner. Remember the sculpture of Greece and realise: where good enough ends, art begins. If you are good at proportion, work for better, ever better proportion. Do not stop until you can feel the heartbeat in the throat of you model. If you are good, you have to be better. This does not come cheaply; to work at this level you have to get physically impassioned by your subject and by the processes of creation. You have to observe yourself, and see what it is that you love; you have to find what makes you happy, what makes you wild, what brings the tingle to you skin, and a flush to your cheeks. You have to find out what turns you on. Light or colour, flowers or clouds, women or starlight. Celebrate it, and know that your love is reciprocated. And if you can find no strength, you can go one better. Identify your weakness, and celebrate that. The last workshop.Starting on 20th July, I shall be teaching my last workshop. I love teaching, and this is why I shall stop. Although this was never my intention, I have trained a lot of very competent teachers who can carry forward the ideals of painting in simple honesty. My one true love is art. Art and beauty. This is what I intend to pursue from now on. |
In this issueWebsiteWorkshopsFor details on workshops and classes in Cape Town and Europe, click here ArchivePrevious newsletters. If you know of anybody who might enjoy these letters, please forward this one to them. You can forward up to five copies. If you would like to subscribe to this newsletter, simply reply to this email, and I shall add you to my list. |
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