Plans to reach Kashmir were high-jacked by the
attractions of Amsterdam and their meagre budget was rapidly consumed by city
living. Perry returned home, but Johnny
decided to stay on and try to earn a living through painting: by the winter of
1983 he was sharing an attic with mice.
Johnny recalls, 'The houses were very narrow but very
tall - built on sand. Terraced buildings are more stable and everyone has
an attic. It was quite romantic - like going back a hundred years - the
area was the 'Montmartre' of Amsterdam. The landlord lived in a flat
about three floors below.
'The mice were my house guests. Late at night, I'd
buy a kebab or something, get into my sleeping bag and eat my meal by candle
light. The light caught their eyes and there would be a twinkling ring of
them around my sleeping bag. I'd give them the left overs away from my
bed and I could hear them tucking in.
Amstel |
Amsterdam had given him space to think and learn, along with a confidence
in his ability to eke out an existence on his art alone. He had stayed true to his vision of
independence without compromise to his creativity and shown commitment to his
dream. The experience had not been
comfortable. ‘It sounds romantic,’ says
Johnny, ‘but far from it – often hungry – hard floors – no hot water, freezing
cold – no close friends!’
Amstel |
Still feeling adrift, Johnny decided to join Paul and Perry on a grape-picking trip to France. At the hillside village of Cessenon Sur L’Orb in the south, Johnny became the artist of his childhood dreams, following in the footsteps of Edward Lear, whose exquisite topographical drawings and studies had been inspiration and companions through those grim Rotherham years. For two months, he was in figurative and water colour heaven: despite the ants.
Part 5 to follow
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