Josephine Tey wrote a fine book
called The Daughter of Time. It focuses on a Scotland Yard Inspector - Alan Grant, injured and bored out of his
mind in a hospital bed. Then a friend introduces him to the
mystery of Richard III and the disappearance of the ‘two princes in the tower.’
It’s a wonderful historical ‘who-dunnit’ and I’d recommend it to anyone.
I was
put in mind of it halfway through ‘LovingVincent,’ which has had mixed reviews.
The story is told through the medium of his paintings and portraits, animated
and spoken through actors. Some have found it visually unsettling, others
thought it lacked emotional depth in the same way a cartoon might. I thoroughly
enjoyed it both as a visual spectacle and for introducing me to the mystery of
Vincent van Gogh’s death. It was an adroitly told ‘whodunnit’ which left more
questions than answers and, as I said, put me in mind of a now largely
forgotten book.
Before I move on to another event,
I’d urge with the zeal of . . . a zealot to google Van Gogh quotes. For me they
were an eye-opener – another unexpected bonus of the film. Two in particular
apply particularly well to the writer:
"Just slap anything on when you see a blank
canvas staring you in the face like some imbecile. You don't know how
paralyzing that is, that stare of a blank canvas is, which says to the painter,
‘You can't do a thing’. The canvas has an idiotic stare and mesmerizes some
painters so much that they turn into idiots themselves. Many painters are
afraid in front of the blank canvas, but the blank canvas is afraid of the
real, passionate painter who dares and who has broken the spell of `you can't'
once and for all.”
(Letter to Theo van Gogh, October 1884)
(Letter to Theo van Gogh, October 1884)
And in another letter, another useful tip
especially for those who deal in words.
Exaggerate the essential, leave the obvious
vague
The second event of an action
packed week was a concert in the Newport Centre featuring Paul Heaton and
Jacqui Abbott. I don’t know about a ‘starry starry night’ but this was a bloody
freezing night.
Even before they came on stage I was forcibly
reminded of two tips I should never have forgotten. 1) Bring a hip flask with
you. The beer was overpriced and the queues immense. 2) The seats are booked so
for God’s sake only arrive when the act you’ve paid to see come on to the
stage. The support act is usually a waste of time. In this case it was a
Philadelphian band called ‘Son Little.’ (the singer)
They ambled on stage like
disconsolate factory hands starting a nightshift. The drummer went bang bang
bang. The two guitars went ‘thrum thrum thrum’ and the singer shouted. Pretty
basic stuff.
And then Heaton and Abbot took to
the stage and the magic began. And I confess now, I wasn’t a particularly
devoted fan. That is my wife’s privilege. But the artistry, professionalism and
sheer stage presence won me over: sharp lyrics, harmonic chemistry
and the ability to work a crowd from years of experience followed by three
encores. I remarked afterwards they must have left the stage on a high, buoyed
on a wave of gratification. Van Gogh sold only one painting in his lifetime.
A selection of videos and some very
nice ‘Dad Dancing’
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=igYq3CEaHvU
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n7vEImmJq8E
So, a book, a film, and Paul Heatonand Jacqui Abbott’s latest album all recommended
1 comment:
I can corroborate the Rembrandt quotes. Whenever we'd dither in front of a blank canvas one of my favorite art professors would make us smear a big daub of paint on it. That usually fixed the problem. :)
By the way, the term I've always remembered was horror vacui-- Greek for fear of the empty.
re: concerts
I fear I'm too old for concerts. It's noisy (with fans), it's crowded, and as you've mentioned, expensive for any victuals.
Post a Comment