November 1 1945
Worked at the ‘from Battersea Bridge’ picture, and had a good day.
November 2 1945
A bad light, too dark to go on with yesterday’s painting; instead I painted a tiny panel of a nude from a drawing I made some months ago. I think I really am beginning to be able to read my drawings.
Evening – model.
November 3 1945
Very little work today. It took me nearly the whole morning to buy two tins of distemper and one of paint for Julian’s room. Waiting to be served, going from one shop to another to get the right colour. These things can be very trying and must be avoided whenever possible. Later I was able to get a little done to the large drawing for the picture of Hanna reflected in the mirror. I must try to get a canvas for this soon and remember to take a stretcher to be altered. A 36″ x 28″ to be a 36″ x 20″. This will make a painting exactly one third larger than the drawing; which will be large enough.
November 4 1945
Sunday. The papers full of warnings about the atom bomb and the obvious need for everyone to agree to outlaw it as a weapon of war. Yes, yes, of course; but will they? There is no idiocy of which man is not capable, I fear; and the fools believe, or persuade themselves, or allow themselves to be persuaded that they are rights. Odious word!
The world is mad; a pity, for there are still a lot of very good people in it. Last week the Royal Society of Arts presented Churchill with a gold medal. Mr Churchill was described as the greatest Englishman of our time. What a miserable time, that there should be more than a little justification for the description.
Painted another little panel from a drawing. I wanted to see what I could do with white, yellow ochre, Indian Red and charcoal grey.
November 6 1945
Portrait of Kate. To the Princess of Wales for a drink before lunch. There we discovered some Hollands gin. We had draught stout first and then a gin. Kate was delighted with the gin, very different stuff from the shocking spirit one usually gets. She had another and I nobly resisted the temptation, although I would have liked a second one. It was good and made me feel pre-war. After lunch I tackled the rather severe alterations we had already decided on in the portrait. It now looks a lot more interesting. Kate is sure the improvement is due to the Hollands. Maybe it is – a successful day.
I will go on with the painting next week and I am sure Kate will want to see if there is still any of the Hollands left at the Princess. I will be quite interested myself.
November 9 1945
Drew, on Wednesday, a group consisting of a loaf, bottle, glass and fruit, background of the studio. I had no wine in the bottle so I made a mixture of red and blue ink with which I half-filled the glass. Painted the same thing yesterday starting at 9.30 and leaving off at 4. No lunch. But it’s a rotten time and place when one has to make coloured ink do for wine, even for a painting. And I used to buy it for 4½d a litre!
November 13 1945
Painted a little nude, from a drawing, on a panel the same size as the ones I did a little while ago.
Lillian came yesterday to choose the pictures for my exhibition which is to be sooner than I thought for they have fixed the middle of February. I had been thinking of March or April, however, I seem to have plenty of work.
November 14 1945
Spent the day with Hanna and painted a 14″ x 10″ sketch of her. A very perfect day.
November 16 1945
Went on with Kate’s portrait. It is improving, but it needs more vigorous painting. The light is so bad these days and it is almost too dark to work by three in the afternoon.
November 17 1945
Made some more studies for the painting of Hanna, which I must start soon.
November 18 1945
Painted a sketch in body colour of my table with some flowers in the decorated vase.
The day after the last entry in this journal I caught influenza. Unfortunately there was so much to be done that I could not do anything to get better. My paintings had to be selected; this took a day, and then they must be taken to Tanous* to be framed. This was all accomplished with a high temperature. I felt frightfully ill and weak and I do not feel right yet. Then I must go to Sir William Nicholson because it was my only chance to try to get him to sit for a drawing, Miss Steen being away, and he was lonely and pleased to see me. I was far from well but I had a most perfect afternoon. He showed me over the very smart (too smart) flat. ‘I have never lived in a place like this before,’ he told me wistfully, and I felt that it seemed a little strange to him; as indeed such surroundings would be to me. We climbed through his bedroom window and on to the roof.
* Tanous Frames of Fulham. Editor
Back in the flat he showed me Max Beerbohm ‘s silk topper. Also a very lovely painting of pink flowers with a pale yellow book and a note of blue. He had given it to Marguerite for her birthday. I loved the exquisite colour and said so. ‘It’s a question of tone,’ he said. He was right.
Finally I asked him if he would let me make a drawing. ‘Yes, delighted,’ and he settled himself on the sofa propped with a yellow cushion. Soon he was asleep, but he woke up again and continued to sit looking out of the window. It began to get dark.
‘I will always remember this afternoon,’ in a dreamy voice, ‘this afternoon when I sat looking at seven yellow moons.’
I glanced behind me. Across the street the lights were burning in a high office building. The lights were enclosed in globular shades.
I showed him the sketch. He liked it but had a suggestion to make about the height of the cushion behind his head. I asked if he would alter it. ‘I would love to.’ He took my pencil and put it right with one line.
He said how forgetful he was. Could not remember his age. He produced his spectacle case. Inside was a piece of paper with: W.N. is 73. ‘That is how I remember.’
As I was putting on my overcoat in the hall he took up a piece of strawboard. ‘I should paint on that,’ and pointing to an accidental smear of black paint in one place, ‘Why, it is started already. There are the trees. A few more here, something there. The picture is as good as done.’
He seems far older than he is, in some ways, and I think he will not paint that picture, nor any other.
I have since painted a 20″ x 16″ canvas from that drawing.
December 6 1945
Feeling much better. Repainted the head of Kate. She has decided to alter her way of doing her hair and this was my last chance. It was frightfully cold in the studio and the poor thing had to wear her fur coat and gloves, but she sat jolly well.
A letter from Brooks who has returned to Canada.
He writes – ‘People have forgotten there was a war on already…… and there are no visible scars to remind them except a legless veteran occasionally going down the street.The Navy is rapidly folding up – the soldiers recently returned from France looking in a dazed way about them….. and the sale of beer was the largest in the history of Canada.’
Here conditions are definitely worse. Shortage of cigarettes and food. Shortage of paint, canvas, paper. Strikes, rudeness. Nearly everyone looks tired and shabby. Everything is a colossal price and taxes are frightful. It always was a sad place compared with France, but it is infinitely worse now.
Disappointed already in the way the Government I voted for is behaving. Digging their own grave I think by putting theory before practise. A pity, for I believe in some of their theories: but one must never put the cart before the horse.
Brooks asks about the quality of our beer. Quite undrinkable, my dear fellow.
December 7 1945
A rotten light. Worked all day and wiped out all I had done. Drew from the model in the evening. One good, one useful.
December 8 1945
Spent nearly all the morning trying to get a canvas for the painting I want to start tomorrow. Got the last piece at the last shop I visited. I provided the stretcher and I called back for it after tea when it would be stretched. Bought it back and had to take the whole thing to pieces and restretch it properly. The idiot had not even put the stretcher together correctly. And this is a man who has spent his life in a workshop. If there are worse workmen than the average English may I never meet them. They were not good before the war; now they are butchers.
Hanna sat during the afternoon and I made a drawing for a painting that must be done before long. In spite of having trouble with the canvas I have had a delightful day. I enjoyed the drawing and afterwards we made toast in front of the stove.
Note: just the piece of canvas – 36″ x 20″ – cost a pound!
December 9 1945
Started to draw in the 36″ x 20″ of Hanna.
A bitterly cold day and I am now, 5 o’clock, only just beginning to feel warm. I wish the snow would fall. I have got rheumatism in my leg and it gave me a bad night. I actually went to sleep for an hour before tea. I have never done that before.
December 11 1945
Morning. Worked on the picture of Hanna.
Afternoon. Went to 12 St. George Street, exactly opposite the church to Miss Betty Bell a girl procured by Bill for my strictly proper purposes. She has agreed to let me make some drawings of her. Made a sketch which I gave her on condition that she lets me do some more for myself. I only had until 3 o’clock as a gentleman from the city was expected. He arrived on time as we were drinking coffee in the kitchen and discussing rents. £12 a week she pays.
Afterwards to the London Group where I met Hanna.
Pasmore makes you realize as never before how great an artist was Whistler. A good, though early Ethel Walker and a simply frightful Duncan Grant of a man with a gun and a dog surround by dead birds and rabbits in a dead landscape. Some painters make a better job of a tree. I liked Wright’s picture of ‘Parr Bay’ – beautifully designed – also a painting by Peter Thomas – ‘Back Garden’ – really one of the best things there; and only just got in Wright told me, a ‘doubtful’. My ‘ Emie (Conduit Street, The Mirror)’ was rejected, also a watercolour.
December 12 1945
Went on with the painting of Hanna, still drawing it on the canvas. The head is going to be difficult. It is so small there is always the temptation to attempt too much detail. And remember: it is what it looks like from a little way off that really matters. Don’t worry so much about how it looks close to.
December 13 1945
Slept at the studio last night. I loved it.
Kate at 11.30am to sit for the portrait; with a bottle of wine. We finished the portrait and nearly finished the bottle of wine. A delightful day.
December 14 1945
Worked at the painting of Hanna. Going well.
Evening – drew from the model.
December 15 1945
‘The River from Battersea Bridge.’ I did a good deal of work to this and have got it moving, for it had reached a rather tight stage which had been worrying me for some time.
It must be weeks since I last touched it and the paint was delightfully dry and hard and good to work on. I will go on with it tomorrow. A good light today but gone by 3 o’clock.
December 16 1945
Continued with yesterday’s painting. It really is beginning to look like something. What a good thing it is to put a picture away for a few weeks. One comes back to it quite fresh and critical. How many time have I been told to do this and what a time it has taken me to realize the practical truth of it. There is no doubt, I am extraordinarily slow in some ways.
Next week I will go on with the painting of dear Hanna. And don’t be too careful about it. You have a good clear drawing underneath.
December 18 1945
Did no work yesterday – went to see mother. Today has been very dark and rainy. No good for painting. Made a drawing of another version of the ‘Clown on the Stairs’.It might work out. I will have to borrow the watercolour from Bill and the drawing from Hanna. Sketches I did at the Agricultural Hall before the War will serve for the other two figures.
I will not get much more work done before Christmas is over. Try as one will it seems impossible to avoid getting involved in the holiday.
December 19 1945
Did very little work this morning. At 2 o’clock went to Betty Bell. She was not there, gone to see her mother, explained the French maid who was sitting on the stairs outside the door of her flat, waiting for her to return. Just as I had decided to go Betty arrived, with half a chicken. I started a drawing. There was a knock. A client. I was hurried into the kitchen where I talked to the maid who told me there was a move to close all the houses in Paris but she did not think it would ever happen. Neither did I. In less than twelve minutes Betty came in and announced that we could go on with the drawing. I said how quick she had been and I was surprised that her caller was satisfied so soon. ‘A good thing too,’ she replied, ‘all the same it’s a lousy job.’ More interruptions. Coffee, excellent, and her sister who wanted me to draw her some day. Next time I go I will paint.
I wondered why there was a folded strip of blanket along the foot of the bed. It had muddy marks on it; then I realised that the gentleman had kept his boots on.
December 20 1945
V&A Museum to see the exhibition of effigies fro Westminster Abbey and the paintings by Picasso and Matisse. Some of the sculptured figures are very fine, unfortunately they are tastefully arranged against a background of light grey spattered with electric blue. This makes it extremely difficult to concentrate on the figures.
The Picasso and Matisse show has caused a great commotion, particularly Picasso. I must respect much of his work even if, at first, I find it difficult to accept. Many of the pictures are terribly real, extremely emotional, and it would be very wrong to deny the beauty of a canvas like ‘Pêche de nuit à Antibes, August 1939.’ The ‘Femme Nue, September 1942’ is terrifying. You may think what you will about it, but it is a profoundly serious work.
Matisse is very different and not such a good craftsman. He is not anything like so sure of what he wants to say as Picasso. The early ‘Notre Dame, 1902’ and ‘Goulphar (Belle -Ile en Mer), 1896’ are perhaps nearer his true self but the
‘Femme au Tabouret, 1914’ is magnificently realised. He is a true romantic at heart and sometimes I think he is a bit ashamed of it. I liked one of the more recent ones immensely – the ‘Danseuse dans le Fauteuil Jaune, carrelage Rose et Bleu.’ This is dated 1942.
Picasso is the disturbing one. An impossible man as an influence. He stands alone.
December 22 1945
Went again to South Kensingtom with Lillian.
After lunch I worked but did not like what I did so I took it all out.
December 31 1945
The tyranny of Christmas – practically no work for two whole weeks. Two drawings just before the upheaval and just one now which expresses, perhaps, a good deal of my exasperation.
This must surely be the drawing which expressed a good deal of the artist’s exasperation.
