Remembering my mum

My mother had a proverb for every occasion.  If she were alive today she would be in her element.  She was quite reclusive and liked nothing better than watching crime shows on TV. I can picture her sitting on the couch, not wanting to be disturbed by visitors, eyes glued to Crime Scene Investigation (CSI). If I could interrupt her now, and ask how she was coping, she would say things like: ‘Every cloud has a silver lining’ or ‘It’s always darkest before the dawn’ or ‘It’s an ill wind that blows nobody any good’. A lockdown would not have fazed her in the least – she would have enjoyed it.

My mother’s penchant for crime shows goes back a long way and I am sure it influenced the way I see the world. I imagine she liked the Brothers Grimm as much for their name as for their stories. Growing up, we were as likely to hear about ‘Jack the Ripper’ or the ‘Brides in the Bath Murderer’ as we were to listen to the story of ‘Hansel and Gretel’ or ‘Jack and the Beanstalk’.  I remember after she insisted we all read Truman Capote’s ‘In Cold Blood’ in the late 1960s (I was in my early teens) how she encouraged us to practise escaping from the house if a serial killer happened to drop in. ‘Knowledge is power’ she would say and ‘Practice makes perfect’ as it is ‘Better to be safe than sorry’.

As an extension of her interest in crime, my mother was also fascinated by the macabre and supernatural. When there used to be late night double features of vampire or monster movies at the Northland Drive-in cinema, we were bundled into the family station wagon and taken to watch. Vigilance was of the essence as the Abominable Dr Phibes might be up to more mischief or Count Yorga Vampire could still be lurking!

Given this background, it is not surprising that one of my favourite artists is Goya. Born in 1746 in Aragon, Spain, Francisco José de Goya y Lucientes is regarded as the most important Spanish painter of the late 18^th and early 19^th centuries and a bridge between the old masters and the new moderns.

Goya was a great portraitist and also an extraordinary commentator and chronicler of his times. However, it is his series of etchings, produced after turning fifty, that I find most compelling.  Goya’s four series are emblematic of his extraordinary technical mastery and inventiveness. He commenced in 1797-1799 with his most famous series, Los Caprichos, consisting of 80 plates of satire and social criticism. This was followed by Los Desastres de la Guerra (The disasters of war) from 1810-1820 describing the anguish of the Peninsular War and its aftermath. Around the same time, Goya made La Tauromaquia (1815-1816) which portrayed the history of bullfighting.  Finally, he made 18 works, Los Disparates, between 1816-1824. This series, which is his most enigmatic, was completed four years before his death in 1828 but not published until 1864. Fortunately, the NGV has sets of all four series although sadly they are not on display.

When it was issued, Los Disparates was published under the title Los Proverbios – seemingly relating to Spanish proverbs but now described as being about follies or absurdities. The etchings are puzzling, and the compositions are dark, complex and dream-like. The works teem with uncanny images both familiar and unfamiliar. This has resulted in many interpretations including political commentary, the Spanish carnival and traditional proverbs. Nonetheless, any promise of clear symbolic meaning is challenging.

Such strangeness is not unique in Goya’s output. Painted on the walls of the artist’s Madrid home (Quinta del sordo), around the same time that the artist etched Los Disparates, Goya’s “Black Paintings” are equally difficult to understand. Unlike those paintings, however, Goya made Los Disparates in a reproducible and distributable medium. This suggests an important question: who did Goya make Los Disparates for, and what ideas did he hope to impart to that audience?  While we will never know, for the purpose of today’s post, I am imaging that he made these works so that I could connect with my mother on Mother’s Day.

Before we look at some of the images, I need to add that my mother was not especially interested in art – other than landscapes and floral still lifes. She could not understand or appreciate my interest, and when I would show her something that excited me, her response was invariably: ‘Beauty is in the eye of the beholder’. Or, if I considered purchasing something: ‘A fool and his money are easily parted’. However, let’s imagine that she would indulge me and that together we could suggest some proverbs for Goya’s ‘proverbial works’.

In the NGV collection, there are 22 works – including the frontispiece to the publication and three additional etchings. Most have the word ‘folly’ as part of the title, although some have short descriptions instead.  Let’s start with ‘plate 1’ known as Disparate femenino (Feminine folly). Here we see a circle of young women playfully using a blanket to throw and catch children (?mannikins) in the air. ‘Many hands make light work’ is an obvious start.

A group of people seem to have decided to seek safety on the branch of a tree in Disparate ridiculo (ridiculous folly) plate 3. Huddled together and suspended in mid-air, they appear very vulnerable and their continued existence looks extremely precarious. While ‘Birds of a feather flock together’, did they consider ‘Look before you leap’ when they chose this risky haven? I can also hear my sister suggesting her favourite proverb for this work: ‘It is a sorry mouse who only has one hole’.

In Disparate volante (flying folly) plate 5 a young woman is held tightly by a soldier as she is whisked off on the back of an airborne gryphon. Seemingly startled by where she might be heading, and perhaps regretting the impulsivity that led to the situation, provokes the response: ‘Marry in haste, repent at leisure’.

Plate 8, Los ensacados (The men in sacks), has a group of men ‘bagged’ with only their heads showing.  Their normal dress, emblematic of their status, is no longer visible. They appear to be moving towards an unknown and uncertain destination – perhaps the final judgement. As most information about the men has been covered up, we are reminded: ‘Don’t judge a book by its cover’.

El caballo raptor (the kidnapping horse) is plate 10 and depicts a defenceless young woman, her arms flailing, being hoisted into the air against her will by a fierce and determined horse. Perhaps she has goaded the horse or even rejected it. ‘Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth’ is a reminder to appreciate things that have arrived in our world.

Moving from concrete representation to more abstract ideas, plate 16 Las exhortaciones (exhortations) provides many possibilities. The man on the far right is clearly admonishing the figure, whose head is bowed, next to him. Why has this chastened individual earned such disapprobation? Has he offered unwanted, unnecessary advice ‘Too many cooks spoil the broth’ or has he been unwilling to assist ‘Your stomach is not filled by painting pictures of bread’? or maybe he has other things on his mind although ‘Time and tide wait for no man’ suggests he should get on with the job.

As I proffer my idea about getting on with things, I can hear my mother saying: “Enough of this ridiculous art. When can I get back to CSI?” Wishing her a ‘Happy Mother’s Day’ and taking my leave she will doubtless mutter under her breath: “Visits always give pleasure, if not in the coming then in the going”.

I often wonder why proverbs were so important to my mother. She grew up in a working class family in the Great Depression and lived through the Second World War. Life was often tough for her. Perhaps proverbs were simple formulae that made life easier, more bearable and offered hope of certainty.

With the 75^th anniversary of Victory in Europe this week, my mother would have wanted to see Vera Lynn sing ‘We’ll meet again’ and remind herself that things always do get better.

Happy Mother’s Day to all the mothers and remember, until we see each other, ‘Absence makes the heart grow fonder’!