postcard from the edge

It's funny how an image can stay with you for life. This painting by Harold Gilman has been part of my personal visual library for a long, long time. So clear are its details and associations, I can go for years without seeing it but when I do it suddenly brings home all kinds of memories.

I first saw 'The Eating House' (c. 1914) soon after I arrived at Sheffield University to train as a teacher of Russian and French after my degree. I lived in a tiny room in a tiny terraced house very close to where the Yorkshire Ripper had recently been caught (which somehow put us off late nights out). I spent most of the year avoiding doing lesson-plans by listening to the radio and knitting a cabled pink mohair Patricia Roberts sweater which I subsequently never wore. When I did go out, it was often to the virtually empty Graves Art Gallery to see the wonderful collection of paintings there. And this is where I bought the postcard which occupied pride of place on my pin-board.

In between knitting and feeling very sorry for myself, I spent hours looking at this painting. I remember wishing myself into the scene so many times that I was almost convinced that it must exist somewhere in a city like Manchester or London. I loved the colours, the view-point, the anonymity, the promise of something filling to eat like pie and chips or liver and mash served with cups of steaming tea. I always felt this must be a warm place to sit and read a newspaper - something I needed to combat the freezing Yorkshire winter outside (and inside).

It was a horrible year. I was cold, heartbroken, lost, lonely and most definitely not cut out to be a teacher. But I stuck it out and used the university 'milk round' to get a job which didn't involve caring about school uniform and staff rooms. And then I tucked the whole experience away in a mental box, and got on with the rest of my life.

So today when I saw the painting once again at the excellent Tate exhibition of the Camden Town Painters, it was like being back in that student room, dreaming of a place where I would be comfortable. It's much bigger than I remembered, and the colours are still quite brilliant and unfaded. It still makes me want to abscond immediately to a place like The Quality Chop House (which I disovered with Simon, and is the closest I have come to finding Gilman's eating house) to enjoy some black pudding or devilled kidneys.

I was almost surprised that no-one else seemed to be having the same reaction as me. Surely everyone must know how wonderful this painting is? Because even though it's something of a personal Pandora's box, it also gave me the one thing I needed more than anything - the hope that things would get better. And they did.

The postcard is up on my wall where I can see it in my office (which is uncannily similar in colour) and all the bad memories are back in their metaphorical box. Where they belong.                            

Comments

[Brigid Hamilton-Jones]

I remember the chop house from the early eighties before it was done up. It was really like stepping back in time. The choice of menu was pretty much lamb chops or lamb chops, and they were piled high on a tray in the kitchen while they were waiting to be cooked. They were absolutely delicious and it was quite an experience to eat there.

[Sarah]

Well you'd have seen me standing in front of the painting for quite a while today. Thank you for drawing it to my attention. I'd never come across him before
either and liked most of his paintings, The Shopping List particularly appealed with all those plates on the dresser.

Isn't the Tate fab? I hadn't been for a while and took myself off to see Fredrick Leighton's Flaming June whilst it's on loan - ooh, the loveliness!

[Sarah]

Well you'd have seen me standing in front of the painting for quite a while today. Thank you for drawing it to my attention. I'd never come across him before
either and liked most of his paintings, The Shopping List particularly appealed with all those plates on the dresser.

Isn't the Tate fab? I hadn't been for a while and took myself off to see Fredrick Leighton's Flaming June whilst it's on loan - ooh, the loveliness!

[susan]

Thank you for telling that story. As I get older I am discovering that certain colours will bring back memories in the same way that certain smells have always done. Recently I was in a shop and was taken back in time because of the pattern and colours on a dress. I stood for a while looking at it just because of the lovely feelings and memories it brought back.

[msaims]

yes!!!!!!!!!! it touched your soul

[Melanie]

How funny - as I was reading your post both the picture and your description of the imagined menu immediately brought the Quality Chop House to mind, so that I was going to suggest you visit it. More coincidence - during a cold and wet Melbourne week I've been contemplating cooking liver and onions - which I haven't cooked, or thought of cooking, for at least 15 years.

[Rosie G]

Sorry you had such a miserable time in Sheffield, it has changed quite a bit since then. I used to work as a Saturday girl in the the stationers shop on Chapel Walk and at lunch time I always used to go to Graves for my lunch in the fab cafe they had there and look at The Bazaar, which was my favourite painting at the time.
Happy days..
Rosie

[Mindy]

Lovely painting. I love reading your writing! (By the way: Is your cookbook available in the States? A friend of mine would absolutely love it and I'd like to get it for her birthday...)

[RI]

I am very late with my comment ,my father had a working mans cafe in Long Lane Bermondsey
"The Beehive " it had the layout of the painting ,but no wallpaper ,white walls and the tables and benches were pine ,which were soaped and scrubbed until they were so clean ,I know of the london pie and mash shops...Manzes are also at "The Cut" Waterloo