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October 30 2006 - A Night To Remember
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I'm in such a state of excitement that I can hardly write! I didn't get to bed until 7.30am, I was chain smoking, imbibing A LOT of the grape, pacing up and down the flat with huge butterflies fluttering in my tummy as I tried to re-engage with terra firma, my head being completely in the clouds at the time. What had caused this incredible euphoria, I hear you ask?! Well.... I have two dear friends who live in Ibiza, every year I go and spend two glorious weeks with them in their beautiful finca which I understand is a traditional Spanish farmhouse. You know the sort of thing; walls three feet thick, tiny windows inset high up on the whitewashed walls, dark beamed ceilings, two massive oak doors which compose the front door and close together with an awesome wrought iron handle. Wicked! My friends are the artist Peter Unsworth (brother of writer Barry; what a talented twosome) and his exquisitely beautiful wife Jenny. Jen was a Vogue model during the late '50's and early '60's and has a timeless beauty from which flows her elegance; she is Grace personified and I adore them both. They have three children, Kate, Ben and Tom, and Ben, like his father is an artist. Last night they had a private viewing of a combined father and son exhibition at the Portal Gallery in Dover Street, W1. This in itself is rare, a father and son, both artists and exhibiting their work together. I cannot begin to describe the excitement that glittered in the gallery. It was filled to the rafters, people spilling out onto the street glowing with wonder at what they had just seen. Because what was hanging on the walls was pure MAGIC. P's work is on the left as you enter, and Ben's on the right. P's work has always had a magic for me, (and a lot of other people as his success suggests ) he does brilliant things with light and his ability to suggest something glimpsed but unseen, I find awesomely mysterious and always makes me catch my breath every time I look at his work. And last night it was very evident that he had passed the baton to his son. And his son had caught that baton and run so fast with it that if it were the Olympics he would be garlanded with every honour going. It was the first time Ben had exhibited, and let me tell you the walls were thick with red sold stickers. He has inherited his father's magic, but his style is completely his own, and unique. The work explodes with passion, with wit and intelligence, style and elegance, but above all a profound spirituality. That boy has been to places in his mind and imagination that only those whose gift is so great that it constitutes genius can experience. And it's all there, on the canvas; it is both sacred and profane and I am convinced that the fame his work will generate will be the 21st century equivalent of that shown to Picasso in the 20th century. And... I put my money where my mouth is! I am now the proud owner of a Ben Unsworth, hence my excitement of last night. Not a painting, but an exquisite drawing entitled 'The Dreamer' which I later discovered is Ben's favourite drawing, and one he was reluctant to exhibit. I've never bought a painting/drawing before, and I can't tell you how grown-up and worldly wise it made me feel. I've invested in art! Gosh!!! Ben Unsworth is 35 years old, the product of two remarkable people, and as I looked at his mother I could feel her huge pride in the achievements of her husband and her son, her awareness of the journey both those men had made. Journeys that she had inspired and supported, and imbued with love. She had never looked more beautiful. Something else I can wholeheartedly recommend is the film The Queen with the peerless Helen Mirren playing her Maj. When I left the cinema I was reminded of a conversation between Kevin Kline and myself when we were making Princess Caraboo. We were standing together off set waiting to make our entrance. Just before the camera rolled, Kevin whispered in my ear: KK: How many actresses does it take to change a light bulb'? ME: 'I don't know, how many actresses does it take to change a light bulb'? KK: 'Seven, one to change the bulb, and six to say, 'I coulda done that'... Only kidding Helen, as if!?...
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