It seems a little hard to believe that I recently spent two hours with Edwin Wilson, septuagenarian painter and poet, talking at length about his life and art, wholly unaware that he carried with him a terminal cancer diagnosis.
About four years ago, portrait artist Dana Lundmark began playing with clay.
‘I’d had no training at all,’ she explains. ‘I was just sort of playing with blobs of clay. Pretty much straight away a human figure formed. I guess that happens a lot, do you think?’
I shrug my shoulders.
While this blog may at first seem a bit tangential to the matter of artistic expression, it’s actually pretty close to the core. We’re talking about living a life with enough space to step away from stress, let the mind roam free and bring imagination and creativity back into play – and without guilt. We’re talking about the problem of work. And who better to guide us than Bertrand Russell?