Lest We Forget
I wanted to try and make a picture which showed something of the reality of what the Cenotaph, that huge, clean white stone in Whitehall commemorates. Impossible, but I tried.
This very rough and clumsy picture is not finished in time to go with the short story “Lest We Forget” I found it so difficult and so well out of my comfort zone I could hardly work on it. I was thinking very much of what is contained in a Memorial like the Cenotaph. We need to remember all those who gave their lives, or like both my Grandfathers one crippled, one blinded whose lives are ruined by war, but how on earth can you really do it? For me the real memorial is the survivors and the current servicemen and women who march on Remeberance Day.
All these thoughts were stirred up by having written the story, and also by recent events. Is it enough to stand on doorsteps and clap Health Workers, when we have failed to give them enough protective equipment to safeguard their lives? Memorials and gestures are not much of a substitutes for lives.
I think I had better go back to the relative safety of portraits of people and animals. Before I hide back in the woodwork I will just add this poem by Siegfried Sassoon who was a hero and also a victim of the First World War.
I saw the Prince of Darkness, with his Staff,
Standing bare-headed by the Cenotaph:
Unostentatious and respectful, there
He stood, and offered up the following prayer.
‘Make them forget, O Lord, what this Memorial
Means; their discredited ideas revive;
Breed new belief that War is purgatorial
Proof of the pride and power of being alive;
Men’s biologic urge to readjust
The Map of Europe, Lord of Hosts, increase;
Lift up their hearts in large destructive lust;
And crown their heads with blind vindictive Peace.’
The Prince of Darkness to the Cenotaph
Bowed. As he walked away I heard him laugh.