ART FOR ART’S SAKE
We all recognise how solitary writing is. I occasionally feel as if I’m stuck in a far-flung outpost, disconnected from reality, (not a bad thing sometimes) ploughing my own literary furrow, alone. Since October, I’ve been living, breathing and sleeping in my imaginary world – hence my very limited activity on Twitter – but last week, I reconnected with a trip to the Capital.
I can’t tell you how great it was to kick off with a long overdue visit to Goldsboro Books, David Headley’s bookshop baby (now fully grown and mature adult) and home of DHH Literary Consultancy. There, I caught up with my agent and, after a whizz around the bookshop, we sauntered off for a working lunch with my publisher. An hour and forty minutes later, I emerged with a new set of edits and spent the rest of my stay belting around various watering holes not far from Leicester Square. Two life times ago, I used to work in a PR consultancy not far away in Gt. Marlborough Street. That same frenetic, edgy, noisy, ‘being part of something’ feeling I experienced then assailed me now. Ironically, I’d be lying if I said I found it entirely pleasant. Perhaps I’ve spent too much time in solitary.
I headed back to ‘the sticks’ and on Saturday visited Malvern Theatre to watch ‘Art’, a play written some time ago by Yasmina Reza. Brilliantly conceived, it tells the story of three friends, Marc, Yvan and Serge. Serge buys a modern art painting for an absurd amount of money. The canvas is all white. When Marc comments that’s it’s ‘shit’, (‘merde’ I’m guessing in the original) all hell breaks loose.
With an all-star cast, featuring Denis Lawson, Nigel Havers and Stephen Tompkinson, we knew we were in for a treat but Tompkinson’s sensational and hilarious rant in the mother of all soliloquies had the audience breaking out in spontaneous applause. The play, above all, is a study of friendship, the bonds that bind us, and those that break us, and it seems particularly appropriate for the uncertain times in which we live. I left the theatre with my ribs aching from laughter, but the play was not simply comedy gold. There was a message in the mayhem and it left me with a strong sense that we all come, make a lot of noise and then we fade away. Strangely, there is unity and grace in that thought.