Story by Neville Cole
I recently uncovered an old notebook; squirreled away for over thirty years. It contains some fine memories. For one, I was reminded that in my late teens and early twenties I listened to fine art as much as I looked at it. I wandered regularly into galleries and flipped often through Art books in those days. When I did, I usually jotted down things I heard the paintings say.
Here’s one of those ramblings…told to me by Edgar Degas’ Portrait of Duranty.
There are, I find, now periods of time – on occasion weeks in length – during which I am lost. Melancholy is a most peculiar infirmity: a wellspring of vague doubts that bubble up quietly at first but inevitably threaten to pour forth into an inferno of misery. My head aches. My ears ring incessantly. Tears press up behind my eyes and I rack my brain – my dammed rational brain – for a reason, for a clue, for an excuse.
And here’s the story Mr. Clark told as I listened to Hockney’s Mr. and Mrs. Clark and Percy.
Actually, the whole episode was rather painless. I drew up the papers myself; which is ironic as I had written our vows as well – the alpha and omega, as it were. My guess is it was never meant to be. We were too alike. There was no spark. It was all too damn comfortable. But, that’s past life now. Only Percy remains. Christine remarried within a year and, though I will confess I haven’t been a saint, I’ve spent most nights here alone… and most mornings too it’s just me with a cup of tea and Percy on my knee sitting at my window watching the city wake. Percy isn’t bothered all at, of course. My brother was right. He always told me: “Never get rid of a good cat.”
I’m still meandering through my old things – it’s something you do after you turn fifty, I guess – but I’m looking forward to digging up a few more memories. I can only hope I find something (anything) inside that isn’t positively dripping with teen angst.
sandshoe said:
May there be dripping teen angst and more tears of melancholy. More of the style of the cat. More pensive reflection on love lost and lives found.Moving through our collections of papers and scraps we turn up so much we thought we never had.
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nev cole said:
I am now imagining a teen cat weary with melancholic angst…
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sandshoe said:
The sentences were not intended to be connected. I needed to annotate the sentences clearly. 🙂
Re the style of the cat:
‘and Percy on my knee sitting at my window watching the city wake’ appears not a teen cat weary with melancholic angst and neither in the painting, but comfortable as cats make themselves. May you be comfortable and have opportunity to often sit at your window watching the city wake … from whatever vantage point, dear Nev.
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googlehoover said:
Edgar Degas’ “Portrait of Duranty”
Neville Cole
There are, I find, now periods of time
On occasions weeks in length
During which I am lost, melancholy at best
When doubt threatens to pour forth unending
Infernal, ear ringing, head aching misery
Tears press up behind my eyes
I rack my brain, my damned rational brain
For a reason, a clue, an excuse…
There was something about it that seemed to ask, gently, to be lifted up from world weary prose to poetry. I’m sure Duranty would appreciate the change.
Absolutely no offence meant, and I particularly enjoyed your play on the Hockney.
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sandshoe said:
Never has it occurred to me to translate a piece of prose into poetry. ‘Portrait’ is to my ear very beautiful as you have translated it, Googlehoover.
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Voice said:
Go Go Googlewhoever.
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nev cole said:
I like it very much too. Well played sir
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helvityni said:
googlehoover, Neville wrote these notes as a teenager, or in his twenties…
Would you have responded to Edgar Degas’ Portrait of Duranty with the poem you put up here today, when you were only a young teenager 🙂
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Googlehoover said:
Probably not, and I did feel a tinge of inappropriate appropriation as I made the change. Neville was obviously a perspicacious young man with an embryo talent that, now in full growth, is our delight. I’m glad he liked it.
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Voice said:
I’m content to sit back and watch your talent riff off Neville’s – if we’re even luckier then perhaps another day he’ll riff back!
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nev cole said:
Thanks all for the kind words…and no, I’ve never even considered being a wine or art critic although I have dabbled as a theater critic from time to time.
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algernon1 said:
Very good Neville. Ever thought of being a wine writer or critic.
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berlioz1935 said:
Beautiful pictures and beautiful thoughts accompanying them.
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Voice said:
You had an old head in your early twenties. No wonder your writing is so captivating.
Neville Cole fan.
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gerard oosterman said:
Good article and nice to see you back Neville. Always love reading about things connecting our past.
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helvityni said:
Lovely ramblings to match these two beautiful but very different paintings….
It’s always nice to see that what we made, wrote, painted ,planted years ago, is still good today..
I was looking at some old photos, and was full of wonder remembering that I actually made those beautiful little dresses….another Dior wasted there. 🙂
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vivienne29 said:
That’s rather good. You would have made an excellent art critic.
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