My mother once gave me an ornamental cup and saucer upon which were inscribed 'to thine own self be true'. I still have the cup and saucer; I still hold the sentiment in my mind, although I find it most difficult to adhere to. Knowing oneself, or coming to identify oneself to oneself is a life's work, and seems to be a prequisite for being true to oneself.
I rediscovered these drawings whilst looking for a fresh supply of black paper; I had thrust them to one side, in my customary fashion, having decided that they were not worthy of note. To my surprise and, I have to admit, immense gratification, my partner lighted upon them with an expression of delight, obliging me to re consider my decision. I take myself into the garden, and sit beneath the cotoneaster; a rampant shrub which is just now in flower, and thrumming with the wingbeats of bees as they go about the business of collecting nectar from the myriad tiny blooms. Gathering my somewhat disordered thoughts it occurs to me that my response to the fightening and challenging situation that we are in, is to work; not necessarily to produce drawings that reflect our situation, but just to work, to draw as though my life depended on it.
It moves me to consider, in the light of the current global situation, that the deep field galaxies, before our time, are visible to us with the aid of most sophisticated equipment, that beyond this time, the Universe will continue to exist, until one day expanded and cooled so as to make all existence impossible, there will be nothing, a void where once was life.
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