The novelist Thomas Hardy (1840-1928) writing with reference to an author's rough notes says:
If they are interesting enough when enlarged to the size of an article, what must they have been like in their concentrated form? Pure rectified spirit, above proof; before it is lowered to be fit for human consumption.
That is all the more true with a sketch before it becomes modified as a finished painting.
The bare minimum applies to the sketch as it does to my concept of dress. A few lines says it all. With the patina that fifty years gives to a random sheet of cheap paper, the effect is all the more enhanced.
The image and
reality of the West Indian father.
There can be few
images saintlier than that of a West Indian father and child. It conjures up
hope that the inherent good in man will survive against overwhelming odds. There
are those who claim that the vision is a rare sight, and others who scathingly
dismiss as an illusion. But as always, the greatest condemnation comes from
those who prudishly hold themselves aloof.
Generally, the
West Indian mother who has been through the mill is less critical. Through practical
experience, sees her man in a kindlier light. Understanding is the crux of the
matter.
First, we must
understand and come to terms with a terrible fact: At least 95 percent of all
West Indian children are unwanted at the time they are conceived. The lyrics of
the popular Trinidadian song tell a lie: “I wanna have a baby with you” is not
a sentiment of the West Indian man. Sex, yes; a child, no! The West Indian woman
shares his needs and his aversion. Her body, like his, urgently wants the one
but not the other. Within a month the baby in her womb has become a hateful
thing to them both.
The seed that
they carelessly planted becomes a barrier between them. Their relationship
cools considerably. There is no real love to sustain it, only a fleeting ecstasy
which soon gives way to shame, anger and - so often for her - sexual revulsion.
Other than a tacit understanding that she is pregnant with his child, they do
not talk about it. The tension heightens as the weeks go by. Their main worry
is that of revealing the pregnancy and the reaction of others. For that reason,
no one must know, or at least not until the secret can be concealed no longer.
But not much
escapes the notice of the West Indian extended family, least of all a pregnancy
in the confines of a yard space. The father is found out, rather than
proclaimed by his own initiative. Any strength that the couple may have found in
each other is soon invalidated by domineering parents or siblings. Instead of
insisting that the father be accountable, they collectively undermine his responsibilities.
Marriage is rarely considered by anyone as a way forward.
Fathering
children within a happy marriage is the ideal, but in this region not the
reality. If a marriage fails the court can ruthlessly deprive the father of any
function other than that of providing money. He can be denied all reasonable
contact with the child. His love is not considered a necessity.
In a society
where marriage is the exception rather than the rule, the accidental pregnancy
that we have so far assumed should not go unchallenged. More often than is realised,
fathering a child is intentionally used as a means of securing a woman without
the commitment or complication of marriage. This form of bondage uses the child
as a means to its end and is vulnerable to the father abandoning, or
threatening to abandon, his support if the relationship breaks down.
From such
troublesome beginnings, the West Indian father must materialize. He does so,
but slowly and grudgingly. In the months before the birth, he does not take the
girl out any more, and even if he offered, she would be reluctant to be seen in
public. Her belly is an embarrassment to them both. He might occasionally drive
her to the doctor or clinic, providing that it does not interfere with anything
he had planned to do with his friends. He would not consider staying by her
side for the visit itself. He will give her money to buy things for the baby,
but not help her shop for them. At the time she goes into labour he may not be
found.
With the birth of
the child there emerges the first timid assertion of the man as a father. He
visits the hospital. He feels awkward and conspicuous and can think of nothing meaningful
to say. There doesn't seem to be much he can do. Her family have attended to
her needs. He does not stay long, but before he goes, he gives the mother a
small screwed up paper bag that forever redeems him. It contains a present for
his child.
In an attempt to
pick up life where she left off, the mother returns to work as soon as she can.
That is assuming that she is fortunate enough to have a job to go back to. Her
family looks after the baby. The father's life continues without interruption.
His family may help with minding the child when it gets older. In the meantime,
he contributes money toward the child's upbringing. The amounts vary. In true
West Indian fashion, the arrangement has no hard and fast rules. They rekindle
their feelings for one another, and from each develops a love for the child.
It is from this
period that we owe the saint-like image of the West Indian father. In reality,
his role as a father leaves a lot to be desired. His love tends to be possessive.
The child that began as their child, in conflict becomes her child or his
child. His commitment is minimal; his understanding is sometimes shallow; his
support spasmodic; his interest in the child’s schooling is often slight.
But at the end of the day, the miracle is, not so much that a child is born, but somehow, out of the most unlikely set of circumstances, a father evolves.
There are two films about the sculptress Camille Claudel. One that has won the awards and one that hasn't. Of the two, the latter is true to life and the former, a portrayal devised for box office success. As you might guess, box office success is all the more readily attainable if you throw in sex and action. But when the sex predominates and the action resorts to scenes that in terms of accuracy are laughable, then the total effect is lost. With a multi-million dollar budget, you'd think that they could employ a sculptor to advise on working methods.
I find that most films that depict artists at work suffer from the same defect. In life we don't work like that!
Below are the films: watch them and judge for yourself.
