We are rapidly approaching Armistice Day when the horrific Great War, which was supposed to end all wars, ended. My father spoke occasionally of his experiences in the trenches and of the Battle of the Somme in which he participated, but seemed reluctant to do so. I think it was because he sensed that mere words could never express feelings that were unspeakable.

I have read several books about that shameful massacre of a generation of young men and I recently read ‘Goodbye to All That’, by Robert Graves. That book, of all of them, coupled with my father’s morose and rationed remarks, gave me some glimmering of insight. As a father of two young men the very thought of that war, sends a chill down my spine.

This picture titled ‘My Son, Ton Fils, Ihr Sohn, Your Son’ was painted in a wave of feeling, almost of fear. I put it up for selection to the Ipswich Art Society Open Exhibition, which generally accepts something from me every year, but it was rejected. I had supposed that there would be other paintings on this centenary year, but I didn’t see any in the gallery. As an artist I would like to think that it gets seen somewhere, so here it is on my new blog.  

 

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