David Remembered
Central School student of the sixties SARAH writes,
"I don't know why I think of David but I often do now. And I was so glad to find your blog. I have sweet, embarrassing and slightly complicated memories of him. The thing is that I encountered him when I was so very young and inexperienced. About twenty I suppose and still living with my parents in south-east London. At the time I was working in the art department of the book publisher Macmillan in St Martin's Street off Leicester Square and about twice a week I used to attend the Central School for evening classes in life drawing which were taught by David.
He was so exquisitely sensitive and also needy (which I could sense but do nothing about). We went out to a pub a few times after class and I remember him telling me that he had reached a hiatus after he had completed some incredibly complex etchings of St Just. He realized that he had reached the end of that road and didn't know whereto go from there. And then one evening he was looking into his pint of beer and wondered whether he might not make the head on his pint a subject of his art.
He was so exquisitely sensitive and also needy (which I could sense but do nothing about). We went out to a pub a few times after class and I remember him telling me that he had reached a hiatus after he had completed some incredibly complex etchings of St Just. He realized that he had reached the end of that road and didn't know whereto go from there. And then one evening he was looking into his pint of beer and wondered whether he might not make the head on his pint a subject of his art.
At some stage he told me that he was taking part in an exhibition. This was somewhere in Kensington. Well, one evening after work at Macmillan I went along to it and saw some of his exquisite etchings of St Just.
I remember him telling me that when he was working in St Just, very nice old ladies used to come out of the houses he was drawing and ply him with rock cakes which he said seemed to explode in his mouth. Although he didn't enjoy them much he clearly enjoyed and appreciated the kindness that was on offer. I do remember that one of the other artists exhibiting with him in Kensington was Edward Bawden and that David was thoroughly scathing about the crudity of his work.
It's an odd thing but I realise now that when I encountered David he can only have been in this thirties. I of course presumed that he was an old fogey on a par with my parents. I must have known him in about 1963 or 1964 and in response to my questions he told me that he was married but separated and had a daughter of twelve.
With regard to David's appearance I have it firmly in mind that he wore fairly thick-rimmed glasses when he taught me; his hair was also beginning to thin. This, rather than any effects of drink, would account for me feeling that he was awfully old. That's why when I first saw a photo of him online I thought I had turned up the wrong man. But then I looked again, realised this was indeed the face behind the glasses and felt very sad and touched. I realised I'd never really seen him. The photo accompanying his obituary shows him without glasses but doesn't do him any favours.
Another thing I remember about him was his great opposition to the proposed reorganisation of art education which later took place.
I wonder if he ever told you about the time he was attacked by a badly behaved model. This happened one evening when I was present. The model was of generous proportion and smothered in glitzy-rubbishy necklaces, bangles and whatnot. Very soon she began to fidget and make the odd twitch. Not showing any irritation at all David asked her if she needed a break. Whereupon, realising that what he was really saying was that she wasn't up to snuff as a model she exploded with rage, slugged him round the face with a largish towel and stomped from the room, tinkling prodigiously. He must have been horribly embarrassed, as were the rest of us on his behalf, but he coped with the situation in his habitually quiet manner. SB
