When I worked in an art gallery, there was a man who came in most days who was also an artist. We all knew him by sight and eventually by name. If you were new, it wouldn’t be long before he sidled up to you in the foyer and told you about his art. Accordingly, my time came.
He said, I’m an artist.
And I said, Oh great.
And because I worked in an art gallery and am clearly very educated I followed up with, Painting or…?
And he said, Yes. Painting.
And I said, What sort of things do you paint?
And he said, The moon.
And because I wasn’t expecting that I said, Oh. Just the moon or…?
And he said, Yes. Just the moon.
And sometimes, I wish I had his clarity of vision.
A version of this post was sent by email on the 29th September 2019 as part of Internet Care Package – a weekly memoir project in the form of a newsletter. It also includes links to the best things I’ve found on the internet each week and occasional updates on my theatremaking. This blog is a select archive of those emails. Subscribe to get them right in your inbox.