As I said earlier, I've always been a creative.... I've always lived a rich and fanciful inner life.....and often this inner life was thanks to literature. I was one of those kids that spent their childhoods with their noses in books. So, when I was invited to dine at High Table with the Master of one of the Cambridge colleges about 15 years ago, I was beside myself with anticipation at the delightfully erudite conversations I just knew I was going to have with these fellows.
I was seated at the great man's left hand...an enormous honour indeed ........the guest of honour was on his right......the dinner commenced. It didn't take even my dim-witted self long to note that every time I opened my mouth to murmur some clever little observation the Master regarded me with utter astonishment......a bit as though I were a fish playing the piano. The fact that a Canadian female was able to string more that 3 words together in a grammatically correct order was leaving this Oxbridge intello jaw-droppingly awed. It was only later that a friend observed that being the youngest, tallest and "blondest" of the females in attendance, I had been seated next to the demi-god for decorative purposes only.....as my brit-wit friend pointed out, I was the designated, thinking man's "crumpet" for the evening.....placed there to enrich the fanciful imaginings of the surrounding dons and fellows. "You're just a little colonial for God's sake....you're not expected to have a brain!!!!!" exhaled my friend.
So what has this story to do with creativity and the featured painting?? Well, that evening when I returned to my digs, a little the worse for the famous college port on top of the equally famous college wine....I swore on my French Canadian grandmother's soul that I.....who through out her life had always had at least 3 brit-writ novels by her bed....would not read a single book written by a bloody-brit for as long as I lived in England.....in fact I would only read COLONIAL authors!!!!!
And thus began the richest inner life I could ever have wished for.....Indian authors gave way to India travels which....as every creative knows....gave way to Indian influences in my work. The same can be said of China....the Middle East....Istanbul....I've never stopped. That evening changed my life...my art....my thinking.....my themes..(otherness & the positive effects of culture clash).
I guess the man was...if not a bigot....certainly a blinkered, closed minded old sod....and yet it is he that I thank for ricocheting me into a way of thinking about art that will stay with me the rest of my life.
