But First by Caroline Liddington
November 30th, 2014 | Published in Other Literary News
But first Caroline Liddington 2014
When I grow up I want to be an ARTIST…
Like you who painted my portrait
When I was eight
Escorted to your studio without question
Enforced stillness upon me
I watched you create
In the chaos of your easels and paint
Garnished in the aroma of turpentine…
Between swirls of Old Holborn
And dirty mugs of brown tea
I sat each Saturday morning
And thought…
When I grow up I want to be an ARTIST
And paint portraits in oil on ancient stretched canvas
But first I need to be a good girl
And work hard
And do as I am told
And be quiet
And keep out of the way
And learn how to pacify the anger in my father
And to see beneath my mother’s silken smile
And understand the comfort and the sharing
Of my grandmother’s feather mattress
And to accept my place in the pecking order
In the absence of my aspiring parents
And to learn how to mother my baby brother
And take care of my adolescent self
Then I can go to ART SCHOOL…
When I grow up I want to be an ARTIST
And translate what I see into lines and tone and texture
But first I need to travel to those life-drawing classes
And suppress my giggles
And impress my teacher
And learn the mysterious skill of exam passing
And collect my 5 O Level tickets
And not be involved in a fatal road accident at A Level time
But to complete my glorious foundation course
To specialise
Then realise
Amidst hormones
Broken heart
Drunken days and nights
That escape to a Greek Island
Could wash away the confusion…
When I grow up I want to be an ARTIST
And paint the beauty that’s all around me
But first I need to complete my fine art course
And paint those flowers
And figures
And idyllic imaginations
And be the best
And please my tutors
And win awards
And prove my worth and validity
And satisfy my deep insecurity
And need for love
And get married and mortgaged
And have babies who need me
And grow them
And love them and learn from them…
When I grow up I want to be an ARTIST
And immerse myself in glorious colour
But first I need to complete my illustration course
And learn to produce requested pictures
And understand commercial practice
Then create my freelance business
And please those many art directors
With my fabulous portfolio
And promised special style
And feed my family
And pay the mortgage
And fail to understand my husband
And watch him fall apart
And start to walk away
And balance all those nightmares
With my mother’s silken smile…
When I grow up I want to be an ARTIST
And express myself with energetic brushstrokes
But first I need to complete my PGCE
And master my skill in the classroom
And be observed and assessed
And sent into the community
To instruct
And control
And be undermined
And to fail
And withdraw
Then teach in my garden
Children of the neighbours
To paint
And draw and make
For years and years and years…
When I grow up I want to be an ARTIST
And paint with the free spirit of a child
But first I have to help my eldest to achieve her ambitions
And leave my absent husband
And harness the remains of family life
And move house
And build a studio
And care for my dying mother
And bereft father
And lost brother
And wish my youngest child a safe journey
And tell the councillors all they need to hear
About abandonment
And the dark vacuum of loss
Then gather myself together
Beyond my empty house…
When I grow up I want to be an ARTIST
And experience the joy of creativity every day
But first I need to relocate to Cornwall
And live in a tiny house
And complete that amazing MA
And draw pictures of journeys
And paint paintings about life
And write poems
And rent a studio
And meet the tutor’s expectations
And drive across the country
To care for my dying father
Then empty the family house
And sell the antique collection
And finally withdraw from that childhood
And put those lives away…
When I grow up I want to be an ARTIST
And loose myself in abstract form
But first I need my OWN SPACE
An old house with room to stretch
And find a barn to be a studio
And a garden to be free in
And separate myself from others
Be free of obligation
Away from interruption
And take care of my three cats
And mow the lawn
And chop the wood
And paint the walls
And keep out the damp
And the tears
And the ever passing lost years…
When I grow up I want to be an ARTIST
And paint the freshness of each moment
But first I need to see my daughters in their own home
Comfort them as they move from dream to drama
Guide and finance
Sooth and hold
And help to grow the grandchildren
And witness the joy of procreation
Of finding out all over again
Then nurse my arthritic knees
And warm my chilled body
Cook another dinner
Wash another floor
Stoke another fire
Turn another page
And another and another…
When I grow old
And my hands are gnarled
And I look through my cloudy eyes
At once vivid colours
And stunning views
At characterful faces
And closed in spaces
And have thoughts to draw
And memories to see
That amidst the distractions of my valiant life
There was an artist in me