January 15 1943
Painted a 14″ x 10″ canvas of a nun, from a drawing I made in the underground. Two wash drawings and a self-portrait, 30″ x 25″. I am still working at this. I scraped out another painting of Hanna. Not a particularly successful holiday.
January 16 1943
Saturday. Painted and scrapped out what I had done.
January 17 1943
Went on with self-portrait. Not easy. Worked until the light went.
January 23 1943
Went back stage Scala Theatre and spent several hours sketching.
January 24 1943
Continued the self-portrait. Light variable. This worried me. Still improving, however.
January 28 1943
Saw mother. Said Marion had been to see her and told her that we had decided to separate. Mother typical of her generation – ‘I don’t like to think of it,’ she said.
As for my state of mind – I simply don’t know. I blame myself for everything and I cannot get Julian out of my mind. There are traits in my character which truly frighten me. Wicked things.
January 30 1943
Repainted head of self portrait. Greatly improved. Very, very tired when the light went.
Evening at the Scala Theatre with Bill. Lots of drinks with Frank and lipsticky kisses from Clara and Evelyn Paulo*. Everyone very gay and drinks in the bar at half price. The last night of a fourteen week season. Asked Margaret, who shows the elephants, if she would sit for me. A lovely head. Great eyes, a full, sad, passionate mouth, strong nose with wide nostrils and a great mass of dark hair. At times like a Rossetti. Finished the evening slightly drunk. Not happily drunk like I used to be in the old days, but just blank.
* Clara Paulo was the only female circus owner in the country and her struggle and success became one of the legends of the British circus. Evelyn was her sister. Editor
January 31 1943
Had a great day with my self-portrait. I can see the end now. Two more days should do it. Went out for a drink at lunch time. Pouring rain. Accosted in Manresa Road by a scarecrow of a man. Hatless, overcoatless, starved and ill-looking. The rain running into his eyes and down his face. Soaked to the skin. Of course, he stopped me and commenced a long story. Discharged from hospital yesterday. Hungry. I cut him short. ‘I hate long stories. You want some money,’ I said, and gave him all the coppers I had in my pocket. About a shilling. ‘ I’m sorry sir. God bless you.’ Forgot all about him hurrying to get a drink to stop my headache and get back to my picture before the light failed.
Remembered him again as I walked home. I realised I had behaved brutally to him.
It is still raining.
With Celia last Friday. After the Theatre. I wonder if we ever could get on together. I often doubt it. Perhaps I will always be alone. I have lost many of my ideas about her but she has a terrible fascination. She holds me because she gives so little most of the time; but sometimes she gives so much.
What a mess I am making of my life. I must work. That is the only thing. Incredibly dull teaching. If I could paint every day! How different life would be then. Yes, I have got a job at last. Enough, with care, to live on comfortably. But what a price. In spite of easy hours and long holidays.
This is failure. Complete failure. If I could live by painting, good painting, that, would be success.
February 3 1943
Celia last night. She doesn’t really know what she wants. And I am in a muddle too. A year ago I was so sure.
Dinner with Marion last night. For the first time I feel a desire to look after her. I never had that before. What perversity in me prevented my feeling that way before? I had every reason to be good to her.
February 6 1943
Repainted the ‘Dressing Gown’, most of its background and retouched the head of my self-portrait. I have certainly improved it a great deal. Maybe I will leave it now.
When I have a chance to talk to Celia again I will tell her that we must think no more of living together. I am convinced it would be a desperate failure. I want far more than she could ever give. She never deceived me about her true character. I deceived myself – but now I am beginning to see more clearly. Perhaps too late.
February 7 1943
Morning. Went on with self-portrait.
Afternoon – coloured blue monochrome of Emie. Clearer in my mind. A good day.
February 8 1943
Looking at Emie. I must work more often on a monochrome. There is no doubt about it being the best way.
Paintings from nature in one sitting. The rest on a monochrome base worked out from drawings and colour sketches.
February 12 1943
I looked at the portrait of myself – painted by myself. ‘You’re a funny cuss,’ I thought, ‘You don’t know what you want yet. Perhaps you never will. And then, ‘I don’t want to treat my boy badly.’
February 13 1943
Started to underpaint 24″ x 20″ – Place du Tertre. Only did half of it. Will finish covering the canvas tomorrow.
February 14 1943
Continued yesterday’s painting. The figures gave me trouble. Fairly satisfied with them now.
February 20 1943
Marion went to Bramerton Street.
Evening. Dorothy came with F G Stone*. He was charming and complimentary and seemed to understand my paintings. He bought one of Emie.
* F G Stone, aka Peter Stone, (1900-1985) worked as an editor for the Jewish Chronicle and was its art critic for many years. Stone’s companion, Dorothy, might possibly have been Dorothy Glover aka Dorothy Craigie. Stone wrote generally positive reviews of Clifford’s exhibitions and bought a number of his paintings over the years. Editor
February 21 1943
A very dark day with the fog hanging about. Got up late feeling ill. Went through my drawings of clowns made at Islington before the war. Made a watercolour from them. Drew the same composition on a 20″ x 16″ canvas.
February 22 1943
Evening. Worked a little at the picture of clowns. Previously had had dinner with Marion. Trying in a vague sort of way, to straighten things out. But I can’t give enough. That’s the trouble. She gave everything, but she wanted her price. Only natural. More than I had to give.
February 27 1943
Worked at the painting of clowns I commenced last Saturday. Also at a charcoal drawing from a 24 x 20″ of Emie. Continued with both these today and on Sunday. Saw Marion this morning. I want her. Yes. But I must be sure.
March 1 1943
Evening. Worked a little at the hand of the clown. Couldn’t get it right. Went to Bill and made a few sketches of his hand. Came home and worked again from these. Better.
March 7 1943
Today and yesterday worked at the clowns and at the charcoal drawing of Emie. Also made a tracing of this and transferred it to a canvas ready for painting.
Evening – wash drawing of five figures – suggested by a group I saw at the theatre last week. Left off work about 8.30. An ideal day.
March 10 1943
Commenced a second canvas of the clowns, washed in with coloured turps. Must borrow the little panel from Bill to use as a guide for colour.
March 13 1943
Painted the 24″ x 20″ of Emie. Started at 10.30 and worked ’til 7 – half hour for lunch. I think it is all right. Too tired for anything else this evening. Should be able to work on the monochrome of the Place du Tertre tomorrow. It’s a month since I last touched it.
March 14 1943
Began to colour the monochrome of the Place du Tertre. The first thing is to establish the effect – simply – and leaving out a good many details. Once the main values have been stated one can finish, a piece at a time. This is the great advantage of not working direct from nature.
March 19 1943
Evening. Went to Winter Garden Theatre and sketched backstage.
March 20 1943
Went on with painting Place du Tertre.
Evening – Winter Garden.
March 27 1943
Continued painting of the Place du Tertre. I feel I am learning a lot from it. Theatre in the evening. One sketch fairly good.
March 28 1943
Again at the Place du Tertre. Have taken it about as far as I can now.
April 7 1943
Since last entry here I’ve been drawing at the theatre. School shut Saturday last. Have painted sketch of her and done two wash drawings from sketches made at the theatre.
April 8 1943
Painted the clowns in monochrome, Cobalt Blue and white.
April 9 1943
Started a portrait of Reg Reynolds*. Two more drawings this week. One in wash and the other charcoal and watercolour.
* Reginald Reynolds the writer and poet.Editor
April 15 1943
Painted colour sketch from memory, for a picture of the Anglo-Polish Ballet. Completed a monochrome of this yesterday. (1944. Coloured this ten months after)
April 16, 1943
After six attempts I succeeded in doing another reasonable drawing from sketches made at the Winter Garden. It looks easy now, but the final result is the worked on tracing of a tracing – and it’s quite small. I think it would get empty if I tried it any larger.
April 17 1943
Work done in the last two weeks: 3 sittings, portrait of Reynolds. Two pictures painted in monochrome. Two sketches in oil. One watercolour and five wash drawings from sketches made at the Anglo-Polish Ballet, Winter Garden Theatre.
Now I would like a lot of different sitters but I can’t get them. Practically all the models are called up – everyone seems to be doing some sort of war work. Although I believe the best work is done away from the model yet I think that one should constantly work from life as well.
April 24 1943
Since the 17th I have done three more drawings from my theatre sketches. I spent three days on the first of them and nearly three days on the second. The third is a quick one and just happened.
I must sell a picture and get some more canvas, although good canvas is difficult to buy even if one pays the enormous price now asked. How I wish I could get that lovely carton gris laminée! It suited me perfectly when I was painting from drawings and memory. No more of that until after the war; and then how can one ever be sure it will be made from reliable materials?
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Guys was a wonderful artist. Evocative. A drawing of his, a scrap of a thing. He has almost obliterated it with a damp sponge, allowed it to dry and then picked up the vague contours, here and there, with a hard, almost unsympathetic pen line. It is as though he had sat looking at this dim, sponged down picture of the scene and then – I can remember a bit here, it went so, and a shape here. I am not sure of this, but never mind, I am certain of this piece, remember it perfectly. And down it goes. It is enough. He has given us what he saw and loved. The things forgotten, or but dimly remembered: they give significance to what our memory does not retain. So we attain a point of view.
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April 29 1943
One more drawing of the ballet and a small panel in oils of a dancer. Size 8½ x 15″.
Several failures which I have destroyed. That is all I have done since last Saturday.