Mosaic

When I first met Matt, my lovely artist and art critic husband to be, I shyly confessed to being a birdwatcher. ‘I know it’s a bit strange and nerdy’ I said, ‘but I’ve liked it ever since I was a teenager.’

‘Don’t worry’ he said racking his brain for precedents of behaviour of this kind in the art world. ‘Waldemar Januszczak does it too.’ At the time I found this reassuring.

Last night poor Matt came home late from a film trip to Berlin. I have been ill, and I slept through the phone calls, the thunderous beatings on the door and the plaintive appeals for entry. He was forced to make an early morning trip to the co-op where my son lives to retrieve a key.

This morning I woke with a start.

‘Are you all right?’ asked Matt.

‘I’ll be all right if I know what the time is’ I said. ‘I have an important appointment. Please don’t let me be late’ I begged fate, thinking of the trip I had to make to a park in West London.

‘Did you look at that Hieronymus Bosch for me?’ Matt said.

‘You didn’t, did you?’ he speculated. Unfortunately he was right.

‘You’ve got to do it before you go.’

‘It’s about fertility’ I said, ‘they’re hatching, breaking out of eggs, or fruits. It’s teeming, fertile life.’

‘Ah, eggs!’ he said. ‘That’s significant. Bosch was interested in wildlife, and birds play a sinister role in this painting — particularly the owls.  Look at this one in Hell.  It’s about to eat a man.’

‘But that’s not an owl, it’s a nightjar. You can tell by the whiskers.’ I said,  thrilled to find a use for my insider knowledge. ‘Listen to this.’ I said, clicking a link on the RSPB site. ‘You can hear them churring.’

‘You can hear them doing what?’ he asked.

‘Ladies and gentlemen’ the tube announcement boomed, as I went into the Underground, ‘there is disruption to service on the Circle and District Line.’

‘Ladies and gentlemen?’ The announcers have become so formal lately.

When I emerged from the tube at 10.10 for my appointment with Ceri Levy, film-maker, musician, curator and all round Renaissance man, he was standing right there. I could tell he was about to look at his watch.

‘I’m so sorry!’ I said. ‘Did you get my message?’ We walked into the park.

‘This is the tree’ said Ceri.

Suddenly a man appeared. ‘Are zey zere?’ he asked. He was a tall sporty Eastern European gentleman in a skin-tight outfit. He was surrounded by dogs. I couldn’t tell if Ceri knew him or not.

‘We haven’t seen them yet’ Ceri answered.

A long haired woman with more dogs in her wake bore down upon us. ‘Deedn’t you ‘ear me shout?’ she shouted. ‘Zey are not een zis tree, zey are een zat one.’

She was right. On a surprisingly low branch on a tree in Kensington Gardens were four tawny owlets, sitting in a row. Assorted people appeared. ‘I see they’ve moved this morning’ some said, and others agreed. We had one thing in common. Welcome to my community, the world of birders.

For non-UK readers, Waldemar Januszczak is the Art Correspondent of the Sunday Times newspaper.

Photograph: Ceri Levy

Posted under: Mosaic by Emma Biggs | Tags: announcers on the tube > bird watching in the art world > Ceri Levy > Emma Biggs > Hieronymus Bosch > Matthew Collings > poorly treated husband > tawny owls in Kensington Gardens > urban birdlife