farlanhardy.net The Wayward Way - News - Contact - Home - About My Dad's Music - Arifah's Site - Buy CD Extracts From "The Wayward Way" A novel by Farlan Hardy The Wayward Way Book Three King of the other thing..and a pivot to boot. Part One. Having Will around twenty four hours a day. Twelve hours visible and twelve hours invisible want, as anyone what's had a resident ghost ull tell yer: a laugh a minute. Course Will was a lovely guy. Sweet, considerate, I mean everything yer could wish for in a ghost. But the trouble was yer couldn't get away from im. Got on me nerves he did. Even when he want visible, yer'd suddenly hear this nervous little cough, an 'I don't wanna be no trouble cough'. Or a loud theatrical Christ am I bored yawn. Still all in all! He want a bad guy, just always there See? One day I thought I'd ave yet another go at finding meself as an artist. Got a small bit of hardboard.. five foot be six. Set it up on me easil. Another self portrait I thought. Got quite absorbed I did, started ter think. At last I'm getting somewhere. It was during Will's twelve hour invisible shift, I forgot all about im, got really intresting, me work did. I descided. an elongated Modigiliani-El Grecco type distortion ud help ter express some of me spiritual qualities, bit of the spiritual anguish that others dint see. But I knew was there in me poor sad artist soul. I painted me face from top ter bottom of me board no room for me neck or shoulders, missed off a bit from the top of me head an all. It dint matter, all the power of expression was going on in the eyes, the nose and the lips. I used mostly blues. Well all blues actually, prussian blue, ultramarine, turqoise, sky blue, Oh the lot, plus a lotta black fer the outlines. Well it was looking good! Now I thought maybe an angst ridden shadow under the nose. I raised me brush.. "Hah, humm, Hah, humm." The nervous cough. I tensed up, waited a moment for the blind mad rage ter subside and breathed deep, and smiled. "Ah! Will old chap." I said "Fancy meeting you here!" "Bin here all the time." Said Will reverse fading into view. "Bit a shadow there, I reckon Farley old son." He pointed to just under the nose. "There, there!" He said impatiently. "Needs a bit a shadow. Prussian blue mixed with black oughta do it." "Really?" I said heavily. "Oh, yes" said Will, "Give it a bit of angst if yer can Farley old son. Well! try anyway." "WHAT YA FUCKING MEAN...TRY ANYWAY!!!**" Will shrank back nervously. "No need ter shout old son, only trying ter help." "I DON'T NEED NO FUCKING HELP!!!*" I screamed. "Double negative that old son." He said primly. "Mean's you do need help. See? I 'don't' need 'no' fucking help, means yer 'do' need help See? Bit like algebra. "SHUT UP OR I'LL KILL YER..YER SMART ARSE'D BASTARD!!!" Will titter'd "Can't kill me." He said "I'm allready dead. See? Hee Hee!" I sat down, well slumped really. I layed me brush ter one side. Me anger subsided. "Sorry Will. Dunno why I got cross. Frustration I expect. Yer know, trying ter find meself as an artist. Bit of a struggle." "There, Farley old son. I do see. Oh yes. Course in my day, artists want rated. Well Holbine was well thought of, but in general artists was like craftsmen, carpenters, bookbinders, candle makers, Yer know. Now this notion of the artist as a genius, blessed by the Gods with special gifts. Fire a the Gods an that, after my time that. I've bin reading up on art yer know. Very interesting it is." "is it? " I said dull'ly. looking at him hopelessly. Then he gave a flash of is charming smile, a touch a the rogue in it. A course I succumbed, I grinned at him. Christ he was a charming bastard when he wanted ter be. "So old son." I sez "Genned up Hay? on art? "where'd yer get to?" "Jackson Pollock!" Said Will happily "Action painting!" "Oh Yes" I said dreary'd at the thought. "Jackson Bloody Pollock Hay? What yer reckon ter him then Hay?" "Will titter'd "Nah! Don't be silly Farley, we both know it's crap. Lets talk about real art, real artists. "Then he give me his charming, (maybe a wee bit sly an all) smile. "Let's talk about your painting here." he said, waving at me blue self portrait. "O.K." I said lightly, but inside I was excited. After all Will was an acknowledged genius. Be all accounts a great artist imself. "So! What yer think of me efforts." "Humm!" he said "Clearly a self portrait." "Hah!" I said pleased, ""yer can see that Hay?" "Well, no." He said reluctantly. "S'only I've bin watching yer and yer keep looking in the mirror. So I kinda deduced:- Self portrait." "Oh" I said. "Now!" He continued "The modigiliani-El Greco elongations, are very interesting, suggesting as they do a kinda spiritual dimension. And the generous way yer've absorbed the pathos of Piccasso's blue period show's yer int afraid ter submit yerself to the influence of the powerful spaniard." "Yer?" I said weary'ly. "But!" said Will "I feel yer slightly misled artisticly, here, in choosing fer yer afinities these tragic, deep guys. Piccasso, Modigliani and El Grecco. All deep yer know. I think yer'd do better bin true ter yer own self." "Really?" I said, wondering what the fuck a hack writer imagined he could possibly know about the inner torments of a visual genius like meself." "Fact is Farley Old son, yer int an angst ridden soul, yer int a Van Gogh, nor even a Munch. Yer more of kinda well..English medieval illuminated manuscripts, persian miniatures kinda soul. Yer know delightful decorative stuff. That's where yer oughta be heading. Gaughin without the syphilous..Paradise see? Light happy, that's where yer oughta be going..Soon find yerself there, Oh yer" Ah, Jesus was I mad. "YER IGNORANT POETICAL HACK. YER MINDLESS.." I stopped "Illuminated manuscripts? Persian miniatures? Gauguin without the clap?" "That's right old son. Decorative bliss! See? "Humm," I said "Yer! You know Will, I do love them illuminated manuscripts, Persian miniatures, Yer Gauguin. Yer I love all that!" "There yer go then Old Son" sez Will smiling "To thine own self be true Farley boy!" "Right!" I sez happily, "You know Will I think yer could be right, Yer. Dunno why I dint think of it meself. A course, a course.." ************************ Go to next extract

Copyright © 2006 Arifah Hardy, Sofia Hardy. All Rights Reserved.