In 1977 I was 13 and my art teacher Mr Davies was about to retire. He was short, stout, had a flame-red crew cut and neat beard. Smart casual at all times, he wore polyester slacks and casual tan shoes. I rarely heard him speak. In two years he had barely spoken to me except to tell me to get my hands out of my pockets.
It was his last day and I’d dashed off a drawing of a horse and rider in minutes. On seeing my sorry effort he went a beetroot colour and made me stay behind to do it again. Fuming as my mates filed out for lunch, I set to work. Thirty minutes later I took the finished drawing up to him and asked if I could go.
He nodded approvingly. “This is really good, son.” Looking at me earnestly he continued, “You’ve got talent. Never stop making art. Your future starts when you wake up every morning. Seize each and every day and find something creative to do. Make the regular irregular. Make nonsense of sense. Honour your cock-ups as hidden intentions. Never stand still. Never play it safe.The universe expresses its will through the artist.”
Precise details of brief encounters get lost in the fog of time but he was pretty damn impressed with that drawing.
Ten years later I was through art school and expressing the will of the universe, albeit in a not very regular or well remunerated fashion.
In the intervening years I have managed to feed my compulsion to create and sometimes it has managed to feed me. I remember Mr Davies with fondness. I hope he had a long and happy retirement.
In a world of indifference sometimes all it takes is one person to believe in us. How we treat someone can impact them in ways we can never know.
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