A grace of sense

A better day for the artist. The large piece is beginning to shine and take shape. The artist as a result is more cheerful and a sense of relief as well as progress has seized the day. Indeed, the artist’s son is replicating this new work on a large piece of white paper taken from his drawing book, and the artist’s daughter is staring at it with a kind of settled admiration. Also, the sun has been shining most of the day and this of course makes a huge difference, especially after so much sobbing rain. It has burned a hole, you could say, through our negativity. It is something of a cliché that when people look at where an artist works they ask about or mention the light, as if artists are the only true custodians of such a phenomena, but the same applies to us all when it comes to natural sunlight. It is our emotional photosynthesis. 'It shouldn't actually be pale,' interjects the artist's son to the artist's daughter. Hang on, the artist's daughter is now replicating the artist’s latest work, too. Fresh from her bath she has returned to the grime of artistic endeavour. The artist’s son already has a large dark mark across his face and now the daughter has dirty hands again. ‘I’m not going to finish mine,’ the artist’s son says. ‘Ever.’ In fact there are three people now all around me doing exactly the same piece, and I suppose by writing down this, I am too. We are the four quartets.