Friday, 3 April 2015

Art Without Kids

Life’s been pretty busy.  A PGCE followed by  NQT teaching has taken up a lot of time, but in the last month or so, I’ve been getting some of my life back.  And yesterday, I got Art Exhibitions back. 
Carenza, knowing how much I admire John Singer Sargent, had spotted an exhibition at the National Portrait Gallery, so we decided to go.  As we set off, I found myself checking twice that I’d locked the front door - always a symptom that I’m feeling slightly guilty about taking a day out, doing something pleasurable. 
I LOVED the Singer Sargents.  The revelation was not how great his painting was – I already knew that - but just how many important cultural figures he knew socially.  And the fact that he was also an accomplished musician.
“How on earth did he manage it all?” asked Carenza.
I checked the labels for scant biographical information:
“No wife or kids.”
After Singer Sargent, Carenza led me to the white-painted halls of the Saatchi Gallery where we basked in the colour and pattern of the paintings, and were particularly fascinated by a room of tree art.  

Root and branch together.

I am glad both that Singer Sargent had no children to distract him and also that I do have them.