Paddington
Hunched
Like a broken man
in a symbiotic relationship with the kitchen table
it was difficult to make out who needed who most
the table or Robert Dickerson
cloaked in an exhausted green cardigan
hanging
drooping
bulging pockets as ballast
the single, yellow light
sculpting the lone figure in the dimness of the 50’s kitchen
his wife, shuffling us into the kitchen
with the topping of a few beers
the bottles
landed noisily onto the table
Tony
Whenever he had money would buy Robert Dickerson’s work
Usually small pieces
As he was now well known and becoming pricey
Tony
just lived around the corner from Robert in Paddington
so we dropped around as the sun pulled the plug on the day
To pick up a new acquisition
A small piece
With his distinctive figurative style
Dripping with a vulnerability
Isolation
that we all experience
the greyed, bristly face
hanging between the stooped shoulders
lifted
as his wife handed the piece to Robert
Tony slide to the edge of the chair
To study the piece in the subdued light
Tony was excited
Taking the piece in both hands
Tilted to the light
Tony knew the piece and had already settled the commercial aspect of the deal
Cash, no agents
Dickerson
a self-taught artist
who struggled to support his various family’s
By doing manual labour
Shovelling coal
Was a driven soul
One of the original Antipodeans
who signed the Antipodean Manifesto in ‘59
Against the dominance of abstract expressionism in the art scene at that time
The hard life
the continual struggle
Crushing his frame
Like Blackman
another Antipodean
Damaged alcoholics
We eventually shuffled upstairs in the terrace
Paintings stacked in lines
The residue of a life time
Leaning against the walls of the upper bedrooms
The stale air rort with the smell of oil paint
As Robert
Rambled through what he was working on currently
In a rambling
Monologue
Recognition
A belated gift
Much too late in some ways
Clogging back down the narrow stairs
Robert nodded and headed to the kitchen
Back to the beer
As his wife
Thanked us
turning
We bumped one another into the street
Cool
In the fresh air
Excited
Tony dropped off the painting
And we headed to Martins
To celebrate the new acquisition
Martins was a wine bar
Just off Taylor Square
Olive green
No signage
You knock?
The slot swings open
The facial recognition nod
we were both members
the door blasts open
to a totally packed wine bar
with classical music
at mind numbing levels
fighting the shouted conversations
I loved the place
You meet really interesting people
Usually ending up somewhere in Sydney
A harbour side mansion or crashing into a Paddington pad
Pushing against the current
Grounding on a corner of the bar
Shouted orders
The cider
in pints
slopping
sliding towards us
Immediately
We were entangled in the people
In the vortex around us
Shouting introductions
Feeling the body heat
Face to face
The river of conversation flowed
until
time gentlemen please
time gentlemen please
at ever escalating levels of insistence
time gentlemen please
like herded sheep
we flowed onto the street
the sweat
jumping into the night
cooling
but not sobering
the cone of conversation
followed us down the street
as we bumped
to this lady’s terrace
who I had been having an animated conversation with for most of the night
An attractive woman
Petite
but feisty
As we dropped into the bean bags
Of this nicely appointed terrace
The wine poured
We all were settling in for the night
she
Sliding into a slurred
Sentimental monologue
Edging
Increasingly
Into emotional territory
Her beautiful eyes
Welling
Dampening
A silent
Internal cry for help
The emptiness
opening up
The pain
rising
with the slide into her alien life
It all began with an affair
with her married boss
he took her
as his secretary
on all his trips
as his mistress
He helped her buy the terrace
The days of being a secretary were over
Introduced to other CEO’s
Always men she liked
The arrangement became extended
Initially excitingly
covering a number of clients
Always
a select few
ranging from 4 to 6 different permanent clients
Who really liked the setup
Particularly
the overseas trip as part of the service
away from the gaze of their wife’s
a Paddington sanctuary
that financed her life style
and the men’s fantasies
but it all
came at a cost
the cloak of cocaine
obscuring
the desperate
emptiness within
escaping to the loo
I erratically climbed the stairs
stumbling into sparkling candle light
illuminating
purple fur
enveloping the bathroom walls and ceiling
around the spa
feeling like my furry tongue
the purple fur
a poignant symbol of a life lost
between lives
gingerly
one foot after the other
down the steep stairs
to the residue of the evening
The numbers had dwindled
I was the last man standing
She slid into silence
As we swayed
in some form of dancing
The cocaine
Evaporating
Slumping into my arms
I levelled her onto the bean bags
Kissing her forehead in farewell
To this trapped
Tortured
Beautiful
Soul
She was 27