“In a world bound for chaos and decay, the task for any artist is to immortalise a single moment – yet untainted by ruin and rot – in such a way as to present to the viewer a perfect relic of ephemeral beauty. A fossil that is an impression of time itself. This task is not an easy one, not merely an attempt to ‘freeze time in a bottle’, but rather to extract the feeling from the moment and offer it to the viewer in a way that it canoe sensed (and not only observed). As such, this offering is deeply personal, since something the artist own soul is given along with the rendition.”
We landed back in Cape Town after a fabulous holiday in Italy with my daughter, her husband and my granddaughter. It was the 8th of January. The next day my old home in Hout Bay burned down, and two weeks later my beloved mother in law had a stroke. In between hospital visits and hosting family visiting her, I was supposed to be painting for an exhibition due to open on the 26 March. It was impossible. My mother in law passed away after an amazing recovery where she had been surrounded by her grandchildren and family.
After an intense few weeks, I had to knuckle down and do some serious catching up on my body of work for the exhibition. I buried my grief in working frantically, hours and hours a day, 7 days a week. All the while the awful news of this virus and the murmurings of its impact on the world and humanity. A week before my show was to open, all my work was ready. But with no where to send it as lockdown was announced and it was to be on my exact opening day.
What a strange and weird time. I spent the first three weeks in my pyjamas, reading, sleeping, knitting, binge watching TV, cooking, enjoying champagne breakfasts and following the news.
It was a long time before our restrictions were lifted and normal life returned. I went back to my studio to begin painting again. What a beautiful privilege I have to be able to spend time doing what I love so much.
I guess you could say an unforgettable year.
