The Passing of Time

The Passing of Time 

Each year, as we gaze on the beauty of falling cherry-blossoms (a ritual in Japan), we are intensely aware that, when they are all fallen, like a movie, or a concert, there's nothing left - only memories.

I love the beauty of the short Japanese haiku poem. An art form reduced to essentials, it suggests movement and the passing of time, so we find ourselves reflecting on life.

                                               Old pond

                                           a frog jumps in

                                             the sound of water

                                                              (Basho 1644-1694) 

   Yes, at 90, life seems to be passing by faster than it used to be and I'm reflecting a lot about this. But rather than dwelling on regrets, I'm inspired to use my remaining time to celebrate the beauty of the transient. I plan to create a series of short liquid kinetic images (perhaps based on music) in which clouds of colour float across my projection screen, then like nature, change or disappear. My little rivers of colour will become an ode to nature and my creative way of waving goodbye.

I still treasure a collaboration in 2013 with the Netherlands Chamber Orchestra (leader Gordan Nikolić) and the composer/conductor Toshio Hosokawa. That work was called Cloud & Light, for shō and orchestra. The celebrated soloist Mayumi Miyata, clad in white, sat in front of the projection of my floating moons or planets that changed colours, according to the tones she played. 

There was no video-recording so this was a unique emotional experience for us all. Only the memory remains. An exercise in mindfulness and acceptation.

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 Many thanks to all you thousands of readers who have followed this blog since 2012. You can still find each one in the search bar on the lower right.

The Buddhist master of Mindfulness Thich Nhat Hahn, believed that the energy that we have shared will take on different forms, like changing clouds. My images have no digital limitations. They are forever universally available as part of the Cosmos. Who knows, you might also find some of them in the Cloud (YouTube?). _________________________________________________

The joys of intelligent listening

 

The joys of intelligent listening

On January 18th 2018, a devastating storm brought the whole of the Netherlands to a standstill. I happened to be one of many in my dentist's waiting-room. Conversations about the weather and more sprung up. A woman sitting next to me asked "And what is your work? "Oh, I'm an artist - I paint music." "Huh...? Wait a minute, you mean you've memorised the score and paint in synch with..... I'm a neurologist - how can your brain do all that in real time?" "Well, Doctor, my brain has been practising painting "movies" with a paintbrush for fifty years...It's a long story." That encounter in our dentist's waiting-room led to years of delightful discussion.

                                

Dr. Maaike van der Graaff, Neurologist, watercolour, 68 x 50 cm. 2019

A lot of people pretend to be listening, but they don't hear you because they are already preparing their reply. Yet if you can discover a common understanding, listening can be sheer joy.  When you give and take, it's like playing music together, it can be deeply moving and memorable. Musicians actually practise listening to each other. If only politicians could learn from their example!

Doctors who are good listeners show an intelligent interest in the whole person. "Tell me - how are you?" It's an invitation to share a lot more than just physical complaints. 

"Oh doctor, what a relief; you really hear what I'm saying. And I feel seen and encouraged by your wise smile of understanding. I know my time is nearly up, but I could give you a hug. Your words are music to my ears!"

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The Wound-Dresser

 

The Wound-Dresser

by Walt Whitman & John Adams

How can any artist find a way to visualise the indescribable tragedies of the present wars of destruction, suffering and death? I turn for help to the great American poet Walt Whitman (1819-1892), who during the extremely bloody American Civil War (1861-1865), volunteered to work in hospitals to care for the wounded, nurse them and comfort them as they were dying. His experience inspired his famous poem The Wound-Dresser. These notes are in honour of all those anonymous heroes and heroines who today are working themselves to death as "wound-dressers", in the most traumatic circumstances.

"Bearing the bandages, water and sponge,

Strait and swift to my wounded I go, 

There they lie on the ground after the battle brought in,

Where their priceless blood reddens the grass, the ground,

Or to the rows of the hospital tent, or under the roof'd hospital,

To the long rows of cots up and down each side I return, 

to each and all one after another I draw near, not one do I miss....."

In 1989 the composer John Adams set this poem to 19 minutes of haunting music for chamber orchestra and baritone. In 2010 I painted continuous fluid images, projected large on-screen, for two deeply moving performances in The Netherlands with the baritone David Wilson-Johnson and Holland Symfonia, conducted by Otto Tausk. My kinetic images were never recorded on video.

 

"An attendant follows holding a tray, he carries a refuse pail,

Soon to be fill'd with clotted rags and blood, emptied, and filled again....

I onward go, I stop,

With hinged knees and steady hands to dress the wounds,

I am firm with each, the pangs are sharp but unavoidable,

One turns to me his appealing eyes - 

poor boy! I never knew you.

Yet I think I could not refuse this moment to die for you, if that would save you."

"Come sweet death! Be persuaded

O beautiful death! In mercy, come quickly."

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The above link to John Adams includes some very perceptive, thought-provoking comments by the musician Sarah Cahill. Thank you Sarah.

 

I

At ninety, I must thank you all...

 

At ninety, I must thank you all

 for sharing years of creative inspiration

Dear friends, I'm indebted to so many of you, but my story should begin with the heroic Mrs. Cave, the only teacher in my tiny village school in Worcestershire. She recognised my drawing talents as a young boy and allowed me to fill the blackboard at lunch-time, while others scrambled around in the playground. Those were my first exhibitions - ha ha! Little did I know what an extraordinary role drawing and painting would play in my life.

By sixteen I was at Birmingham art college, happily competing with Charles Hardaker (a year younger). We shared keen powers of observational and technical skills and the joy of hard work. Charles became my friend and inspiration.

In 1957 I had moved to the Netherlands and became indebted to Professor Hammacher of the Kröller-Müller Museum when he offered me the use of a house and studio in the Vaucluse for a whole year. Nature and landscapes became a huge source of energy and inspiration and still are. I'm so thankful for that.

my blog: Music and space in watercolour painting

On my way home through Switzerland in 1963 I met Yehudi Menuhin at his Gstaad Festival and we became dear friends. He was the greatest inspiration of my life and opened the doors to collaborations with many other musicians. What a year that was!

                          Hand in hand with Yehudi Menuhin for a long chat (1991)

 

A talk with Simon Rattle for BBC Television (1993)

In the seventies, the creation of fluid kinetic paintings in synch with the music became my passion, with my partner the cellist Vivian King, conductors Clive Fairbairn, Sir Simon Rattle, Mirga Gražinytė-Tyla, pianists Louis van Dijk, Pierre-Laurent Aimard and Sebastian Knauer, violinists Daniel Hope, Lis Perry, Gordan Nikolić, the tenor José Carreras, baritone Benno Schollum, Johannes Pfeuffer and the Ebonit Saxophone Quartet, Michael de Roo and Circle Percussion Ensemble and the Trio Min/Wu/Xu. I'm amazed that I was privileged to work with such fine musicians!

Audio-visual creativity became my daily nourishment, as I learned to memorise the music of composers John Adams, George Benjamin, Toshio Hosokawa, Tristan Murail, Augusta Read Thomas and Huang Ruo. Not to mention those no longer with us: Vivaldi, Haydn, Mussorgsky, Scriabin, Saint-Saëns, M.K.Čiurlionis, Elgar, Ravel, Stravinsky, Walton, Kabelać, Takemitsu and Rautavaara. I thank them all for the opportunity to visualise their great music. 

Rehearsing for "The Sea" by M.K.Čiurlionis (2019)

As well as hundreds of portraits of "ordinary people" I've been privileged to paint portraits of great musicians in action, in such a way that their gestures help you to "hear" the music. We often became friends and I was so touched by their messages of appreciation, either personally or by phone, from Simon Rattle, Jessye Norman, José Carreras, Plácido Domingo, Bryn Terfel, Kurt Masur, Carlo-Maria Giulini, Cecilia Bartoli, Bernard Haitink, Vladimir Ashkenazy,  Mstislav Rostropovich and Yehudi Menuhin. (Yehudi's voice is still on my answering machine, now on YouTube). Every year I feel so sad that yet another of my dear portrait subjects has passed.

Mstislav Rostropovich (watercolour 1991(85 x 56 cm) 

Some other great performers from my website

I still treasure other inspiring friendships that have developed over the years: the art critic and author Eric Gibson, filmmaker Erik Friedl, author Jessica Duchen whose work is saturated with music, art educator and painter Herb Holzinger, Professor Cees Hamelink (an ardent collector of my paintings) and pianist Jean-Louis van Dam, choreographer Jiri Kylián and Jonathan Fulford, who directed the major BBC 1993 documentary Concerto for Paintbrush and Orchestra. My special thanks to Andrew Jowett of Symphony Hall for commissioning no less than thirty paintings of celebrated performers. I'm also grateful to the visionary managers or agents in the world of music who engaged me to perform worldwide: the Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra, the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra, the Rotterdam Philharmonic, the Netherlands Philharmonic, the Sejong Soloists, the Zurich Chamber Orchestra, the Daniel Hope Ensemble and more. 

Painting to Jura (The Sea) in Birmingham Symphony Hall, with Mirga Gražinytė-Tyla and the CBSO. My very last performance on February 16th, 2019). It was quite emotional.

Thank you all so much! It's been a real roller coaster. My sons Chris and Alex were so often the ones who steadied my nerves and still do. At ninety, there are so many stories I could tell you. Actually I have - thousands read my blogs (190 so far): A Life Painting Music. I may have disappeared from the performing arts scene, but I'm still quietly at work in my Amsterdam studio. As long as I can hold a brush I'm happy to explore many other creative possibilities. 

Why not email me at normanperryman@gmail.com. Yes, there are still watercolours and limited edition fine-art prints for sale for a "prix d'amitié".

You can Google me or play examples of my fluid kinetic paintings on YouTube. 

Of all my paintings, this one seems to be a favourite. A group of teenagers was once hanging around the foyer of Birmingham Symphony Hall, rather shy. One of them eventually approached me and said: "Sir, I just have to tell you: that painting changed my life. I now love classical music". Every time I think of his words, I give him a virtual hug. This is why we paint.

Here's the link:

The Mahler Experience

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