Today I went to the funeral of Jean, an elderly friend of one of my friends. It was a very intimate ceremony with just a dozen or so mourners, at a peaceful lawn cemetery. I didn't know Jean well, but I heard many stories of her from my friend, who has visited her weekly for years. The eulogy, given by her son and only child, was beautifully written. Some time after the war, in England, when Jean found herself pregnant and 'let down' by the father, she bravely decided to have the baby and raise it herself. When her son was still small, she emigrated with him to Australia, knowing no one and with no support.
After the funeral, I went to the Gallery and popped into the Masters' exhibition to find a painting that spoke to me of Jean. I decided upon
Breton Women with Umbrellas(click to view). The catalgue says that Bernard saw the Breton women as living simple, pious lives but it seems to me that four of the women in the picture are gossiping savagely about the young women seated in the foreground. She holds herself very still, refusing to rise to the bait - developing nerves of steel, maybe. Perhaps she is in the same situation as Jean, many years ago.
Back home, looking at the catalogue for a way to use this painting to make one about Jean, I noticed that the background is very reminicent of Canberra - the brown and yellow hills, blue/purple Brindabella mountains, central lake - even our (white) Parliament House. So that forms the background of my painting.
Jean loved the colour green and knitting, twice she travelled first class round the world with only carry-on baggage, and she was vigorously engaged politically. She was a forthright and determined lady. Sometimes it was difficult for her son to be her only family. At the end of the funeral, after we had scattered delicate, crimson rose petals onto the coffin and listened to meditative music, her son said there was just one more thing. He fumbled in a plastic shopping bag and drew out a net of oranges - "It's a mother and son thing", he said as he tumbled them into the grave. Australians will likely understand! For others, it is necessary to explain the reference. In the 70's there was a sharp comedy (called Mother and Son) about a confused, controlling mother and her long suffering son. On one occasion, they attend a funeral and somehow the mother drops her shopping - a sack of oranges - into the grave. It is a hilarious image which remains in the mind of many. Jean would have been heartily amused at her son's final offering. Everyone laughed and clapped. So that explains my painting for the day.
I find green a very difficult colour to work with.
The Gallery was very crowded today but I saw only 2 teenagers. I saw them first snogging in front of Mr Denis' Homage to Cezanne (click to view) and was struck by the enduring appeal and variety of black attire. The men in this painting are all artists, unusually garbed in business suits. They are discussing a painting by Cezanne, the younger Serusier explaining to Redon, on the left, why the Nabis group of artists admire it.
On Thursday evening, I went to my monthly art group get together. We each take something for dinner and whatever 'show and tell' we have. I sketched Meredith who is doing a project which requires daily stitching. I loved the blue of her blouse, and the shape of her armchair - which she calls the Albatros (the whole lounge suite) because, despite its inconvenient size, she drags it round whenever she moves house.
Today I went to the funeral of Jean, an elderly friend of one of my friends. It was a very intimate ceremony with just a dozen or so mourners, at a peaceful lawn cemetery. I didn't know Jean well, but I heard many stories of her from my friend, who has visited her weekly for years. The eulogy, given by her son and only child, was beautifully written. Some time after the war, in England, when Jean found herself pregnant and 'let down' by the father, she bravely decided to have the baby and raise it herself. When her son was still small, she emigrated with him to Australia, knowing no one and with no support.
