I have been off the hooks lately, absent without leave but am anxious to make muster. Sitting a few days ago in a spartan but bright hospital room I felt in need of distraction. I had been extensively punctured with large needles and passed through the big doughnut and sat dishevelled and bruised awaiting a consultation. The uninviting tired magazines were well past their sale by date but the artwork on the walls was something else. Whoever had chosen the artwork had never sat where I was sitting. The facing wall was hung with a set of Edward Hopper prints. Great images that speak brilliantly about American city life and the urban landscape. They can also exude a sense of world weariness and speak volumes about isolation and loneliness. So, there one sat, mimicking the hunched shoulders of the customer in the late night coffee shop, sitting alone with his thoughts, disengaged from the other customers. Obviously for him too, the end of a long day. I admire Hopper's work, love the drawings but this just didn't seem the time or place, I would have settled for some of Hirst's bland and uninspired spots or butterflies, heaven help me.
So in need of uplift where else to go but the cemetry. I know, but this is rural Catholic France and it's the celebration of All Souls. The villagers turn out, the escaped return briefly to their roots and the flowers are laid, families are remembered, memories stirred, it's heart warming, even uplifting.
AGED AND AWKWARD