Fleabag and Claire: The Portrait by Godmother

A Confession:

Revisiting Fleabag, as I earlier did in a previous blog, because I am obsessed with it!

The element of discussion(although it’s only me writing, still feels like one):

The portrait of Fleabag and Clair, by Godmother.

An Analysis:

Analyzing an antagonist isn’t congenial. But I found something captivating about the portrait of her step-daughters she chose to paint as a wedding gift to her husband. While the elder sister was painted front facing, the younger one was asked to turned a little to the sideways and then completely around, with much desperation.

Fleabag is a memory, rather an epitome of her dead mother. “You’re not the way you are because of me, you’re the way you are because of her. And it’s those bits that you need to cling to”, her dad had said. Maybe this was the Godmother’s greatest insecurity, her fiancé being reminded of his wife. Although he didn’t like her, he loved her, her kindness, her fun. So was Fleabag. Claire had gotten the more serious genes, to the liking of Dad. She was easy to get along with. But Fleabag, she was different. She was frightening. But at least she was never omitted by her Godmother, although the Godmother was afraid of Fleabag’s strength, something she got from her mother, something startling, something harshly honest. So it might be an explanation, why she didn’t want them to “face” Fleabag. Godmother spoke her heart, her passion through art.

A Difficulty:

I cannot further justify the intentions of the Godmother, but she could have done worse. Whereas she just chose to paint. Art has captured and contained her villainy, her insecurity, her fear of losing control. It is a buffer. A way of expressing, yet not committing something terrible. Things that can be said contently through art often quenches the thirst to carry it out. Suppose you hate someone, then isn’t it far better to write a song, or a poem, or paint a picture rather to communicate that hatred. Oh come on! I am not a saint. We are not saints! We dislike, we get terrified, we get anxious. It’s very obvious for humans to feel that way. However, when you take refuge to art, it isn’t that ugly. Your art might be. And people might say your art reflects your negative emotions….”you have a criminal inside of you!”, and so on. So What! It’s only that. It stops there. The hatred found it’s way to get out of you through a painting, it did not come out as a crime!

A Conclusion:

Trust in Art. It helps.

Doing: a reflection on how I have generally felt.

“Do”, by Sol LeWitt. I am reflecting upon this outstandingly powerful letter to Eva Hesse and realized that after completing something, anything, I always judge myself, my work, and end up finding it horrendous altogether. In the letter, Sol writes to Eva, “You must also know that you don’t have to justify your work, not even to yourself”. I, for once, found it very relieving. A sigh rather. It might actually be good if I am kinder to myself. I think I should be. I think it’s sometimes enough that I’ve done something, anything. It came from within me, a place I might not even have discovered if not by my own work. Often, I go on and write something to only surprise myself, the thought that I’ve been nourishing in my subconscious for so long. I couldn’t believe it took a form of a sentence, or a jumbled up color in a painting. It’s like I am knowing more of myself. I think I find this exciting. “You belong in the most secret part of you”, Sol said.