Chop-chopping choppers and cargo hooks of art

As I crossed the busy road and walked the narrow pathway to pick up our son* from school, the light in the sky and in everything else reminded me most evocatively and to some degree sadly of the other capital. In fact, all that was missing were mountains in the distance and several million battle-scarred inhabitants. There was even a chopper crossing the sky. A green military helicopter: one of those famous twin-engine tandem rotor heavy-lift helicopters popular, to continue the vernacular, with troop movement, artillery emplacement and battlefield resupply. In this instance, I suspect it may only have been transporting politicians. They have such a distinctive sound, don't they? Part-spluttering. Part-droning. The helicopters, I mean. (Not the politicians.) Actually it is an alarmingly reassuring and heart-stirring sound in a conflict zone when you hear what is in effect your own defence system traversing the sky. Everyone from a squaddie to a royal will tell you that. Somewhere in that feeling, I suspect, is the sometimes necessary intoxication of war. I say 'necessary' aware of the controversy of such a comment, but some wars simply have to be won and if the sound of a helicopter puts you in a winning mood then so be it. Nor, bringing it all back home, is it such an improbable leap to say I still also see the all-important task of the artist getting an exhibition as a kind of battle, though only recently have I developed the appetite for the kind of singlemindedness required in order to win such battles. Though I have the artist mostly to thank for that, I can probably give myself some credit too. I still drag a tied and tired sequence of empty tin cans of weaknesses a mile or so behind but there is a small part still evolving, still growing, and determined for example to honour the artist's steadfastness with the pleasurable witnessing of an exhibition. The work, as I have said countless times before and will enjoy saying countless times more, most certainly deserves it. In an age of conflict, a corridor of dry concern, hers is one of the peace treaties and a small part, believe it or not, of a big solution in global conflict prevention. Win it on the walls.
* Our delightfully social daughter went to a friend's house.