Saturday, 20 October 2012

Talent and Trauma

In the Huffington Post

What trauma and angst the poor, young KK must have endured; for an older man to be looking at her in a "pervy" way.  After all, anyone male - heterosexual or bisexual, who has ever looked at a young woman with an attractive face or figure,  must surely be branded as being perverted and disgusting.  Every man who has appreciated a woman for looking attractive is now automatically to be dubbed a sex fiend, for any woman can surely not, nay, MUST not to be looked on as attractive, sensual, and beautiful. 

I am only hope that the payment which Ms. K was paid by a British glossy magazine of such fine quality (much akin to the ones who published the photographs of the Duchess of Cambridge enjoying private moments with her husband) for the story of such harrowing abuse to have been looked at by this arch fiend in a "pervy way" will pay for the treatment she will clearly require to have had to deal with such humiliation and indignation at such a young and vulnerable age.  Such talent, such star quality, and such celebrity as Ms. K is recognized as possessing in the Fame Game surely does not deserve to have endured such a vile miscreant and his conduct especially when she is of such national importance.   Not that she could possibly be seen as relishing in dragging the name of a dead man who made many millions for charity through the mud, nor heaven forbid, perhaps using the opportunity to make a tawdry penny when her own star quality is so dim as to be almost indistinguishable.  No, of course not.  But the trauma goes deeper.  Savile also "had that look about him".  Her powers of perception stagger disbelief.  Clearly Ms. K in her youth had ability to identify criminals, especially ones so guilty of such heinous crimes as those perpetrated by the late Jimmy Savile.  Perhaps she might be better placed as an "expert witness" rather than being the once, oh so talented chanteuse she once was, whose albums and hit singles are known and appreciated by many throughout the United Kingdom and beyond.  Perhaps Ms. K and her astute, perceptive nature could be used to pinpoint such terrible criminals, including terrorists, and murderers.

A pathetic attempt to re-ignite celebrity status?!  Who on Earth could think such a thing?!  One can but hope that Girls Aloud, having newly reformed, shall be appearing on stage in a variety of fetching abayas, hijabs, burkas and veils, just in case anyone in their expansive audiences should think of looking at them 'in a pervy way'. 


Of late, there has been rather a lot of escaping into the past for me.  By my own admission this has been, at times, rather tumultuous in nature and despite the occasional outburst of tears, it has been rather calming and soothing as well. This escapism has ranged from watching a film - My Week With Marilyn - which despite my initial reservations over watching Kenneth Branagh, an actor I find most awfully over-rated, playing a rather credible Lawrence Olivier to an excellent performance by Michelle Williams who captured some of the magic that was Marilyn Monroe, from the ridiculously ephemeral turn by Emma Watson (she of that irritating franchise that is Harry Potter) to both Judi Dench and Eddie Redmayne; fine actors who evoked the period in which they were cast.  A film which I must confess I did not expect to enjoy but found myself doing so.

Another foray has been into my own past.  Thinking and pondering over things and I readily admit, this has been the cause of much of my tears over the last couple of days.  Perhaps, as usual, too much soul searching and over analysis on my part - unable to change things yet somehow seeking to understand, digest and move forward. This isn't always easy; especially when so much of the present is undone, stressed, seemingly angst ridden and confused. My life is undergoing a metamorphosis of sorts, a change if you will.  Some of those in my life are aware of this, some are oblivious and others still remain ignorant; not wishing to know, understand, or perhaps even just turning a blind eye to all the proceedings that are going on.  I have been reflecting somewhat upon past mistakes, errors of judgment and misfortunes, as well as my own stupidity and gradually - I hope, somehow, I am turning my back on such events and their outcomes which have seemingly impinged upon my life.  In short, although at times I feel close to the edge of a metaphysical, metaphorical abyss; I don't want to fall in, and have a nervous breakdown before the age of forty.

So, this afternoon, I went to the Dulwich Picture Gallery.  Slightly outside of my usual "comfort zone" if you will, in terms of both the art and period I know and understand.  Having been dubbed both a "Renaissance man" and a "mediaevalist" in recent times (both compliments glad received); I chose to spend an afternoon in the company of artists such as Poussin, Gainsborough and Rubens.   This might seem to those who know me best as being rather a daunting undertaking, and certainly rather alien to my being to say the least.  In terms of art, despite the occasional and rather daring foray into more modern works such as Uglow, Modigliani or Klimt, I rarely step beyond the late sixteenth century.  Yet earlier, I found myself transfixed unexpectedly by the glory of some of the works which I was witness to, and despite the crowds around me - found myself largely able to shut the majority of the other spectators out and concentrate upon the glorious spectacles in their gilt frames in front of me.  For me, it was like discovering the glory and beauty of a whole new world, and something which rather ridiculously I had overlooked.  For those who have long since dismissed art they do not understand, I say to them, open your eyes and look, and your ears and listen.  For indeed, there is beauty all around.  Not to say that I am going to start listening to rap, hiphop, or dance music - nor appreciate graffiti (or 'street artists') and start to sing its praises but maybe, just maybe as I approach my forties next year, I find myself being more accepting, appreciative and open minded; lifting the blinkers and enlarging my scope and panorama.  Even at times when I feel that I am so set in my ways, I enjoy to be pleasantly surprised and discover something new.

Le Triomphe de David - by Nicolas Poussin -  in the Dulwich Picture Gallery.

At present, this seems to be a time of καιρός, hence the heading.  Rhetorically speaking, kairos is
a passing instant when an opening appears which must be driven through with force if success is to be achieved.  I am not there yet, yet I feel that moment beckons and is close at hand.  I can only hope that I do not miss it, and the opportunity does not bypass me (once again?).