I went to Salvador Dali’s home-cum-studio in Cadaques, Spain a few years ago, while on a writing retreat. I didn’t like Dali, but was curious. The best thing there was his wardrobe covered with dried mustard flowers, and that wasn’t done by him, but a workman who renewed it every few years. In fact I liked it so much, I treated my own wardrobe to sprays of dried white flowers. But Dali’s paintings I find banal, and suspect. I had a fantasy of a right-wing hotelier retiring nearby, and meeting a right-on type wanting to run creative writing workshops. These would be as bad as my friend and teacher Anne Aylor’s are good. And so, a story took hold, incorporating Dali and his awful paintings. Tell Not Show is read by that great actor Peter Wight, who is Cyril Fealty.
The top note to self in my notebook, after my co-critiquing session with writers Anne Aylor and David Wilson was rewrite the language.
This is profound.
Not rewrite the play. No. My drama Blood, Gold and Oil is a work in progress, much like the Middle East itself. It’s about the present, and TE Lawrence’s take on things should he return as a ghost. I told you so in so many words, and what if Gertrude Bell and others of her class hadn’t drawn the line the sand after WW1: blue zones for the French, red for the British.