THE BOOK OF LOST THINGS
There are some parallels with Rabbit and Peter the Rabbit. The rabbit boy’s royal blue T shirt is not a coincidence as to me it couldn’t really be any other colour. That said, blue does tend to be a male stereotype.
The rabbit boy may be defiant, by crossing the boundary from safety to danger, but he does show a level of maturity and responsibility by ensuring his younger brother is keeping up with him and they are, for now, safe.
Having crossed the threshold, the menacing appearance of the reaper carrying the scythe can in some ways be seen as a parallel for the looming figure of Mr McGregor brandishing his hoe.
For the rabbit children, these are formative experiences, with evasion from capture and outwitting their adversaries, they gain independence and empowerment in the creation of their newly found individual identities.
It somehow seems logical – or inevitable – that the Rabbit painting and The Book of Lost Things should be connected in some way. How their paths came to collide stems back to the period when I wasn’t painting, but was instead involved in my literary pursuit of writing fiction. With writing, comes reading and I was reading avidly at this time. I had recently got into the work of John Connolly and in those early book imprints he included his email address so readers could reach him directly, which was something I did.
We kept up a regular exchange for a while, and in one email to me John professed that a book event the night before – some where in Boston, I think – had left him somewhat fragile and unable to look at a computer screen. I replied – in jest – sending him an image of the Rabbit painting hoping it would help bring things back into focus. It was meant to be banter but perhaps I’d under estimated its appeal as John got back to me straight away saying how marvellous it was, and was it for sale by any chance?
From there, we had further dialogue in which John looked through the website and decided to buy the Snake painting at the same time. We met up at John’s hotel in London and chatted about the arts over coffee and finished up with the art sale before John headed off to Ireland.
I thought nothing more of it and it was perhaps a year or so later in the late summer of 2007 that I was in the garden, opening the Amazon package containing The Book of Lost Things.
I was curious with the choice of my namesake for the narrator – David – but resisted the urge to read anything deeper into it and settled back in the warm sunlight with a chilled glass of wine and began to turn the pages.
And there it was, on p. 418. It was a really nice gesture. A total surprise. I’d been lazy in checking the email on my website account and logged in to find John’s email saying he hoped I didn’t mind if he cited the web address. Of course not, John! Not at all . . .
I got in touch to convey that message, but didn’t hear back from him. As I look at Rabbit now, even on my computer screen, it is a fine painting. Rabbit is in good hands and I trust John still gains some reward from the painting.
The woods where the Rabbit painting takes place are the same woods where, as a child, I used to roam. It seems appropriate to close with the following Art Diary entries.
“During the New Year (2nd January) I collected five pieces of elm to make the frame, taking the wood from dead trees. It’s taken a month to make as the irregular nature of the branches is tricky. The painting moves forward slowly.”
Art Diary – 23rd January 1999“There was a problem of woodworm and about eight crawled out. I think the last one is dead after treatment. Painting over [the frame] 3-4 layers minimum during the time it has been going. In some cases 5 or more layers. It’s [the painting] not fantastically accurate or realistic but the main thing has been to evoke a ‘mood’ or atmosphere. Longest work I’ve done – two and-a half years – much work has gone into this and I completed it today.”
Art Diary – 25th April 1999
The rabbit boys are now, of course, rabbit men in their thirties, and I believe they are firm-footed in their respective journeys.
DAVID Morris | Art 