Thursday, June 11, 2009

Painting in progress- beginnings.



Two newly begun pictures, both on old canvases using oils, the progress of which I'll photo and publish here.

I don't know how I want the picture to look like in the end: I shall be making it up as I go along. I have something Malevich-ish in mind at the moment, however.

The yellow picture is x 66 cm, the green 50 x 57 c. The canvas is fine linen, oil primed.

I may start a third picture, it depends how impatient I feel. Having worked with monotype for most of the last year, I've become used to a very rapid work pace.

Tuesday, June 9, 2009

A boy and a woman












A series of images from a restaurant in Lagoa.

The complete series is on Flickr-

http://www.flickr.com/photos/28509471@N05/sets/72157619402882739/

The boy attempts to draw the attention of the woman: she is, appropriately, charmed.

Monday, June 8, 2009

Woods





More images from the woods. While taking them I could imagine the pleasure in being part of a pagan cult, performing the sorts of rites described in The Golden Bough.


Beth, or The Missing Girl. Part 3

A strange meeting.

I hovered about. I lit a cigarette. The 'phone was on a console table in the hall. A picture hung on th e wss, the image of a bowl of Longhi lilies. The picture was painted by Fantin -Latour and was inherited from a great aunt. For a moment I just stood there smoking and losing myself in the darkness of the painting.

There was an ashtray on the table next to the phone. The ashtray featured the face of the pope milling and waving. I squashed out my cigarette on his nose.

I dialled 1471, then the number the automated service gave me.

"Hello," I said. "Is that Cath?"

"Yes," said the voice.

"This is Clancy Smiles."

"Hello Clancy"."

"What do you mean, Beth is dead?" I asked.

"I mean, she has died," she replied.

"How?" I asked.

"I think you should come here," said the voice.

"My God," Is said, "who are you? Why are you being so...so damn...mysterious?"

There was a pause. I lit another cigarette.

"Clancy." The voice was slow and quiet. "I think you may be taking this badly."

She gave me her address. I wrote it down on the pad.

Before I left the apartment I looked over to the dining room. The dinner things were still sitting there on the table. The light from the windows behind caught them, bouncing off their hard surfaces sharply. I could see the sombre facades of the buildings across the road, huge caryatid orders flanking tiny, feminine balconies.

Then I put on my overcoat. I turned to a mirror. I saw my face. It was wet: I had been crying.

I shivered even with my overcoat on outside. I held the address In my pink hands and read it: 11 Silesia Road, Hackney. Too far to walk.

What was Beth doing living in East London. It did not seem to be the right sort of place for her; too harsh.

I travelled to Islington, where I crossed over to the platform to wait on the North London Line. There were bits of litter blowing about outside on the platform. Someone had torn the timetable off the wall. A bearded man wrapped in innumerable layers of clothes like a huge ragged pupae shuffled about, then drawing a bottle form those wrappings, poured a coppery liquid into his tiny red orifice. Three teenagers, all pubic moustaches and menace eyed us as we waited. The train came in slowly: I got in: thankfully the teenagers stayed behind.

I felt a kind of shock when I came out of the station: the place was in a terrible state. All the buildings needed renovation and there was an aura of collapse everywhere, An old woman, head down, bumped me, then turned and apologised with a dreadful cringing.

"Can you tell me the way to Empire Road?" I asked her.

"Empire Road?" said the lady, "down there on the left." She scuttled off.

Did she think I was going to beat her up?

I walked on down the hill. The sky became suddenly bright with a silvery pallor. Then clouds blustered across, all gormless again.

I reached a giant Victorian block. I pressed the buzzer. Presently, a voice came from the speaker: Cath's voice.

"Come on up. First floor, right hand side."

I climbed a huge, steep staircase up the dingy interior. The door was slightly open: I knocked on it, then went in.

I arrived in a hall with marble floors, hung with green wallpaper: a motif of vines.

"You've arrived" I head a voice from my left,

"Yes," I said. "Good afternoon. Are you Cath?"

She was not taller than me; her posture was good. There was something austere about her. Hs e had dark hair which was put up and held in place with a golden clasp, in a style better suited to a much older woman. Her dress was green with a paisley print. She wore a black choker round her neck.

"Yes, "said the woman. "I am. You are Clancy, " she added.

"Yes. I am, " I answered. "I am Clancy Smiles".

"Come this way." She spoke as we walked down the corridor to a room overlooking the street. "You know, Clancy, we have met before."

"You said," I said. "But I can't place when for some reason."

"We attended the same lectures," she said. "We both studied at Vale's."

I did not mention that I still did not recognise her.

I was led to a room with a sofa, a chaise longue and some easy chairs. There was a music system too. But the most impressive thing about theroom as giant stuffed pig on a mahogany case on a giant sideboard.

"Yes," she said.

"How did she die?" I asked.

"She drank vodka and took some paracetamol."

"I'm sorry, " I said, uselessly.

Cath stood up. "Let me get you something. A gin and tonic?"

"Thanks."

She went over to the sideboard; she came back with the drinks.

"suicide?"

"Probably, " said Cath.

I drank the gin.

Cath sat down opposite me again. " I do not know how close you were to Beth. We were not close. She did not tell me about what she did or how she felt. She did leave this note, however."

The note read: "No-one should feel beholden to me. I cannot live with the burden of myself. I am no stranger to myself, and the knowledge that I have is too troubling to bear. I shall not go on."

"Is that is?" I said.

"Yes," said Cath.

"How did you know to contact me?"

"She told me about you."

"Did she?"

"She was in love with you."

"If she was in love with me then why didn't she contact me before?"

"I cannot answer that," said Cath. "We were not that close.

I stared at the pig.

"The funeral is on Saturday," added Cath.

I returned home.

There was a riddle to be solved. It was the riddle of Beth's demise.

Friday, June 5, 2009

Beth, or The Missing Girl. Part 2

I set out the dinner things in my dining room before leaving for work that morning in anticipation of our returning there. The day passed quickly. I worked in a travel agency which specialised in tours for elderly people. Often their tours had a cultural element: I was responsible for setting these elements up; finding guides and organising itineraries. I had spent the day in discussion with the Austrian Board of Tourism. They were going to find a guide who spoke English for a day in Vienna. That day would be concerned with the Secession in Austria.

My desk was at the back of the hop. At the close of day I heard the door open.

I looked across: it was a woman. But it was not Beth.

She turned to me: hello

Hello, I said

Do you do any trips to Russia, she asked.

Madam, I said, I strongly advise you against visiting Russia. It's government is scarcely legal and the whole place is awash with cannibals.

She broke into a laugh. I've been to Russia many times. I want to know about going to St Petersburg. My mother wishes to go to see the Hermitage.

I went to get her the brochures.

She left. Ten past six. No-one.

Perhaps Beth was late. I decided to wait. I went through he racks straightening things. I went into the kitchen and tidied the mugs. I got a cloth from there and a can of furniture polish and I sprayed it on the surface of the desks. Then I polished them with a cloth.

I got sick of waiting. I dialled her number. No reply.

I went out of the shop. There was no-one standing outside.

Then I got a call at home some days later in the morning at 9am.

"Is that Clancy?"

"Yes," I said

"Maybe you don't remember me. Its Cath."

"O."

"I'm Beth's sister."

"Ah," I said

-Well," she said, "You should know something."

"What," I said

"Beth is dead," said the voice.

"O," I said.

"Yes," she said.

She put down the phone.

*

That can't be right, I thought.

Poverty




Two photos from just outside the bus station. Vagrants and hopefuls gather round here.

Thursday, June 4, 2009

Beth, or The Missing Girl. Part 1.


I want to tell a story: an entertainment or a diversion; something to delight you or make you think.

But all I have on my mind is Beth.


Some months ago my mother forwarded me a letter from Beth. The letter was quite general. She was now living in London, in Hackney. There was a telephone number too.

I called it immediately.

"Hello, it's me, Clancy."

"Clancy! I wondered if you would get my letter."

"Yes, I got it today. How are you? Long time."

"Yes," said Beth.

"You're in London now?" I asked

"Yes, I moved some time ago."

-What are you up to?

"Nothing much. This and that."

"Okay," I said. Something about her reply made me feel guilty; something in the tone of voice, as if I had betrayed her by not making more effort to keep in touch. That sense of guilt impelled me.

"Do you want to meet for a drink?"

"Ok," she said. I didn't recognise the tome from the person I knew. There was something listless about it.

"Why don't you meet me after work?" I said. "What about tomorrow, or today if you're free."

"Tomorrow," she said.

"Ok, I said. "There was a lag in the conversation.

"Meet me after work. 112 Farringdon Road."

"What time?"

" I finish at six. Come then."

"Okay," she said. She put down the receiver, It feltoddly final about that. I didn't get it.