Illness has changed my life, filled it with fear, and bought me unexpected benefits; contact with old friends and colleagues, lager drinking and more work; I’ve finished two pieces for a national newspaper on my situation and there is more work to come, after six very lean years.
(The link to my D Telegraph piece)
I have also got a painting into a public art competition. Something I haven’t done since I got into the RA Summer Show in 2000.
(Link to the paintings in the show)
OK so you have to nearly die to get work nowadays, and if I do expire the value of my paintings with increase, but such is life, that is one of its great jokes.
At the moment I am going through one of those, my fingers tingle and throb on the key board, my feet are numb apart from one ridge of sensation down the middle, so it feels as if I am skating on bones. At night I keep changing temperature and when I can sleep I have lurid dreams. But I’ve got that moment of transformation to come, and all the days when I feel great again have become separately valuable. Days no longer run into one.
This time I caught the Count’s last words of advice: “Wait and hope.”