When I was little, the fairy story that explains how the sea became salty remained with me not because I liked it, but because I didn’t. In brief, it tells how a magical quern – a hand mill – created a constant stream of what ever was asked of it until it was stopped by the use of a magical word. One day, a sailor stole the quern. He used it to churn out salt to preserve a great catch of fish. A storm brewed up that destroyed the ship, drowned the crew and sent the quern to the bottom of the sea where, because the spell to stop it was lost with the sailor, it continues to this day spilling out salt, tons and tons of it. To my young imagination this was an alarming prospect, for surely, there would come a day when the salt would absorb all the water in the world. When I began to sketch the mermaid, I had no notion of the thoughts that follow...
Here is a mermaid sitting on a plane of salt - with ne'er a drop of water to drink...
..I once saw Victor Azaria, a French mime, perform a series of unrelated little scene which merged seamlessly one into the other. For example, he changed from being a novice skier into an ancient steam engine by the way he varied his arm movements. His gestural puns were many and various and promised to lead his audience from one scene to another for ever and ever. However, he brought his magical act to an end by performing the simple spell of taking a bow. What he did is in the past. But, because the fairy tale is in my head and is in the present, every time I remember it there is the magic quern grinding on and on.
I wrote the above paragraph a couple of days ago. Two night’s sleep has brought me an idea that links the mime, the fairy story and thinking about thinking. It seems to me that we humans like to link thoughts together. I spend most of my life linking things together. The mime showed me that the link between one idea and another does not have to be logical. On the other hand, the fairy story shows me that unless there is a spell to stop a spell it will go on and on and on repeating itself.
It seems also that to stop us from the worst effects of too much of one and the other we require a boss thought to control things, to stop too much repetition and too much change. For want of a better phrase, I call this a supra-metaphor. I think religions are a very good example of supra-metaphors. They police thoughts and stop our brains from going mad. For the time being that is all I have to say on the subject. (Hurrah! say the people of Greater Manchester)
I am now going to illustrate the first chapter of my book William Shakespeare – Dark Phoenix, because I still cant work out whether I should put it up on this blog for free, or try to interest an agent or publisher. After all, it is quite short, and not a very thrilling subject, being about how William copes with grief. Waiting 4 or 5 months while they make up their minds to take me on or not is a tidy percentage of what is left of my life – I should be so patient! In the meantime let us have a picture - I shall put it up soonish. In fact, here it is, two hours later
