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Back in Britain after Rome and Paris and the usual culture-shock after going to my local supermarket, negotiating aisles of crisps and processed snacks, only to find that they don’t even have any parsley. (Local Sainsbury’s and Tesco.) What crap the British eat.
I just read that Christine Ruiz-Picasso died (April 6). She was 97. Rosemary and I met here through our friend, cookery writer Martha Shulman who lived, for a time, in Christine’s apartment of blvd St Germain in Paris. We met Christine in 1988, at her house near Apt in Provence. It was designed to look like a small hill town, with roofs set at different angles. The indoor pool extended outside. There was only one bedroom, guests stayed in a large ancient, converted farm building further down the track. I was astonished to see a large Picasso of a cockerel in her kitchen, exposed to cooking fumes, and delighted to see that the fronts of the drawers in our bedroom were painted with bullfighting scenes, obviously done for Bernard, her son by Paolo, Picasso’s eldest son (with Olga Khokhlova). She was friendly, charming and a delightful host.
Christine and Bernard donated 233 Picassos to a museum in Malaga, where Picasso was born which opened ion 2003 and which has since received over 10 million visitors. I remember seeing some of the works in her house: two monochromatic portraits in the living room, fronted by a large sculpture and other early works. She kept most of her pictures in a safety vault but rotated the pictures on a regular basis. Now everyone can see them.
Fran Bentley invited me to dinner to meet up with Suzanne Kaplan who was visiting from India where she has lived for many decades, and Julia, another old friend. Fran and Suzy had been friends with my wife Rosemary since college days in Bristol and through her I’ve known them both for 45 years or so. Like all old people, most of the time was spent in talking about illness, and failing that, previous illness. We all agreed that there’s nothing great about getting old. But it was great to see that there is still that spark of life in them, and me, after all those years. Here’s Julia, Fran and Suzy.
A few more old friends. This dinner is at Richard Grayson and Suzy Treister’s flat overlooking Parliament Hill Fields. We’d been together in Egypt a couple of months before. Ingrid Swenson and Andrew Wilson were also there, whom I hadn’t seen in an age., so a younger crowd, more art gossip, less illness. (More drinking). I stayed over. Me, Suzy, Ingrid, Richard and Richard with Andrew.
Spring is here so I spent a few days with my friend Marsha Rowe in Norwich:
The blue bell is the sweetest flower / That waves in summer air;
Its blossoms have the mightiest power / To soothe my spirit’s care.
So wrote 20-year-old Emily Brontë. I hadn’t seen a spread of bluebells like those in the woods next to the Sainsbury Centre at UEA since I was a child. They really do relax you.
I thought I’d remember Norwich as I’d been there about 45 years ago but nothing remained in my head, it was all new except a vague memory to do with the levels of the chancel roof in the cathedral, which had clearly been raised. Norwich cathedral is superb and even has a plaque dedicated to St. Felix which visiting Australians who were involved with Oz magazine always find amusing because it reminds them of Felix Dennis.
I rarely leave the West End and this was the first time I’ve travelled in Britain in many years except to go to the airport. I expected the complicated arrangements with the train tickets, but eventually got the correct ones – absurdly two single tickets are cheaper than a return, but that’s Britain for you. Norwich was a delight: the lanes, the winding alleys filled with independent bookshops, antique shops, cafes, pubs and restaurants, and a refreshing lack of chains. Architecturally it is beautiful, particularly the areas near the castle and the cathedral, but also the river walk. The students around the art school were very colourful: bright red hair is in, as are brightly coloured dresses. In my art school days we wore black. Unlike London, which is too crowded and the pavements are usually too narrow, Norwich has many pavement cafés, like Paris, where one can sit and people-watch. As this is one of my favourite activities I loved it there. I now see why people go to college in Norwich and never leave though the university itself, UEA, foolishly, was built three miles out of town instead of integrating it into the city. It does have some wonderful features, but its insularity is not one of them.
The Sainsbury Centre is at UEA and for some reason I had never even heard of it. It is an amazing display of pictures and sculpture: A life-size bronze Degas dancer, Modigliani, Arp, Picasso, Gaugin and six Francis Bacons, including a terrific Pope; unfortunately, his triptych of Isabel Rawsthorne was not on display (I’ve since learned). They have some fine work by Alberto Giacometti and there is a further gathering of more than 20 drawings by him, also not on display. I assume they are available on request. It’s a huge collection. There’s a nice thick Auerbach. All of this is displayed alongside a huge collection of art from Oceania, Africa and the Americas. Finally, there are interesting medieval European and ancient Egyptian works including a beautiful Fayum mummy portrait. In the extensive grounds stand a large Henry Moore and, my favourite, a version of Vladimir Tatlin’s Monument to the Third International. It’s a personal collection reflecting the superb taste of a pair of very rich collectors. It was a beautiful day, ideal to sit outside the café and enjoy the view of the Tatlin. (It’s a Norman Foster and Wendy Cheesman building).
Just walking along the riverside you encounter bits and pieces of medieval buildings. Just perfect for me. And Marsha knew what they all are. It’s a lovely town and it was a lovely visit.
Back to town and the very next day another train ride, this time to Oxford to see Suzanne Treister’s retrospective at Modern Art Oxford. I missed the p.v. but with a bit of encouragement from Suzy to get me out of town, I managed to catch the show just before it closed. And I’m very glad that I did. Called Prophetic Dreaming, it filled a number of huge rooms, and, as Suzy works very much in series, contains hundreds of works. Impossible to do them justice here so go to Suzy’s official site to see the work:
https://www.suzannetreister.net/InstallationV/2025_MAOxford/menu.html
Israel continues its Genocide against the Palestinians. From the river to the sea it is all Palestine! (This picture of Gaza is from 2023, before the present war).
Finally, just to get a bit of perspective, here’s a picture of C/2025 R3 PANSTARRS, a comet from the Oort cloud, now visible from Earth. It won’t be back for another 170,000 years.
