When I've found a
grave I usually return to the car and reward myself with a coffee and a chunk
of chocolate (sometimes it's a consolation having failed to find the target.) Normally
I park strategically so I can observe visitors. I've seen people hugging and
kissing headstones, weeping, meditating, doing a chicken impression (with the flapping
arms) and someone even pouring a can of beer over the body of a grave. Some
people sit on benches they've bought and positioned right next to the grave.
Once I saw a woman was sat on one of these benches shelling some kind of
vegetables into a colander.
Once I was
driving around churchyards on The Wirral and at one was disappointed at not
finding a certain grave (someone who'd been on the Lusitania.) The place was sprawling and I didn't have a plot number.
The sun's heat made me put the car on a shady patch under some trees by a sort
of timbered scout hut. I gobbled some cheese sandwiches while listening to a
play on the radio. I was surprised when a door opened and a middle-aged woman emerged
from the hut. She flicked a glance my way but perhaps the sun's reflection
across the windscreen meant she didn't see me. A vicar appeared and the couple made
a fuss over a fitting chunky padlock on the door. They split up, each one
walking down each side of the hut. However a few minutes later I spotted them at
the far side of the hut where they linked hands and then continued to walk away
down a dirt path. I'm sure it was all innocent but it stuck in my mind. Here is
a small painting showing the couple.
This painting was
completed in two or three sessions. Firstly I drew the couple walking away
looking at one another but was not sure what to put around them on the white
canvas. To give some dimension I put them on a narrowing path with some foliage
flanking them. I dotted in a few flowers and some trees on the horizon. Being
such a small canvas it was quickly completed. The cassock proved to be a
nuisance. I painted it varying blacks about four times with the odd crease to
show walking legs. If you look closely the vicar has some kind of awful mullet
and the woman has a hooked nose. Oh dear.
Perhaps you could
buy it for £4,462. You may have been watching something on television and took
against it so much you threw a three-cheese slice of pizza at it. It may have
missed and splattered against the wall leaving a stain which has turned green
with age. This painting would hide that stain nicely.