It is 15 July 1986 and I am 21. I have just
graduated from City University with a degree in Fine Art with Hons. I had almost
failed due to the lowest dissertation mark of my group. However, the strength
of my paintings had earned me an upper-second. My degree show had comprised
studio pieces taken from alfresco oil paintings of a bridge, gate and dead tree
scene just outside our village.
Still, I am pleased about my degree result.
I am now living back home, am on the dole with no
boyfriend. I am also struggling with my novel The Lessons, which I had been working on since 23 April 1985. With
nothing else to focus my mind on, I decide to have a go at another stint of
alfresco oil paintings like last summer. I focus my mind upon the Stables Farm
at the bottom of our road. Dad knows the owners and had asked permission for us
to trek over the fields there.
Abridged excerpts from my diary have been used as part of
this account. On 15 July 1986, I had written:
“I wanted to
investigate the fields at Stables Farm, but a boring thing called a
period pain stopped me. My pain got worse and got excruciating by the time I
got back on the long drive in Dad’s car. I lay down with painkillers and nodded
off. (Later) Got 2 books on (novel) writing
from the library. Was awake last night. Could hear cats crying
and fighting. Dogs barking. Was sinister.”
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| 15 July 1986: I'm suffering bad period pains |
On 16 July, I make my first journey to the Stables Farm
with Dad. I find 3 ponds but little else to inspire me.
Meanwhile, things aren’t good at home. My twin Eve
has moved out with her fiance. My brother is also about to move out and is barely home. I haven’t seen my
previous boyfriend Mark since last Christmas although I got a birthday card
from him in May. For this reason, I am no longer on the pill.
I get depressed about my directionless life and am
keen to fill my days with something, even if it means painting alfresco in the
fields like last year.
 |
| 25 & 27 July: the plank has been added to the barn door. I'm having bad dreams |
On 20 July, I had written in my diary:
“Dad agreed to
come to look around the farm today. It became hot. Walked
across kale fields (had flowers) and the verges of barley fields. Lovely scenery but nothing to pull me
to paint. Until we went to another field. Saw an old wall of a house. It was like a heavy monument in the countryside. Dad fell in
the nettles.”
 |
| The Tumbledown barn where I painted in the summer of 1986 |
My First Painting of the Barn
The barn looms against the sky, spurring an
emotional response within me.
It was exactly what I was looking for but something is missing.
I had felt the same way about a
railway tunnel where I had painted last year. I would eventually fix this
problem by placing a dead tree near the tunnel mouth.
Nothing further is mentioned of the barn until 24
July. I would write:
“I got 6 books
on novel writing and 2 on psychology. I felt very cultured as I went to the Stables
Farm this afternoon. I sketched by the pond. Bad weather came quickly so I had
to leave it.”
On 25 July, I remark I “Had another pathetic dream last night (seem to get a lot lately).”
I use the term ‘pathetic’ to actually mean disturbing and horrible. I get a lot of bad dreams but learn to ignore
them or delegate how they actually made me feel.
On 27 July 1986 I return to the barn with
Dad. The missing element bugs me again. I don’t like the doorway being bare
like that.
I look around and find an old plank
with notches in it. I get Dad to place it over the doorway.
Dad is bemused at my request, but he complies. Once in place, I feel the composition is just ‘right.’
I had written in my diary:
“Dad knocked
down the intimidating nettles and made a stool out of bricks. He added
to the composition by placing an old wooden pole at the doorway (my
request). It became a lovely sunny day
and the wheat fields were blinding. Sat on this brick stool which had a
spider’s nest there. Tried not to think of it while I did sketches. Came
back after dinner. Did another sketch from the other side. Worked until gone 5
o’clock. Read up about psychology
and English. I don’t know where my life is leading to.”
 |
| The barn once I had placed a plank over the doorway |
The Wooden Plank
It would appear I am repeating what I had done to
the railway tunnel where I had painted last year. I had placed a dead tree at the tunnel mouth. Here, I am placing a plank at the barn doorway. I was unaware
of my repeat behavior.
 |
| 29 July: I'm suffering stomach cramps, vivid fantasies & depression. |
My diary entry of 29 July is troubling:
“Had a stomach ache this morning, the type I
usually have when I get up, but this time it felt more uncomfortable. I’ve had
it for years. I just put it down to my bed, the way I lay. Always books, books,
books, the only thing to keep me going. Had vivid fantasies in the night. Thank
God for boredom, it’s just fantastic!”
On 30 July, my aimless life digs into me and my depression deepens. Dad is not usually affectionate, but he
hugged me in my room when I get upset.
August 1986 turns out to be cold and wet, hampering my painting at the barn. Instead, I’m sketching village scenes and enquiring on studio space.
After completing 3 sketches of the barn on 2 August I
express my private fear.
“Had a foul
dream early this morning. I was trying to win approval by being rebellious.
Because it didn’t work, I fawned and still no one liked me. I even found that
Eve wasn’t listening to me anymore. In fact, I wrote the detail and feel of the dream in my notebook because I think it relates to my novel, The
Lessons.”
On 4 August, I would show Eve the barn, the weather being too bad to paint. Later, I read
how-to books on novel writing.
On 5 August, I return to the barn to paint a
large portion of sky but have to leave my
incomplete painting beneath a pile of bricks when rain comes. Later, Mum and I have a terrible
row about the setup at home. In truth, my horrid
dream the other night troubles me. I feel so bad, I stop at Eve’s.
 |
| My oil sketches of the barn Summer 1986 |
On 6 August, I had written:
“I had cramp in my
stomach again first thing for no reason. My face is spotty. I’m very depressed about
yesterday. Eve and I went for a walk. I’m now looking for a flat. I’m desperate to get out.”
And on 9
August:
“I’m all geared
up for barn painting but the weather is shit. Did some sketching and drew another composition. I emphasized the
colors of the sky. The painting was dramatic and I was pleased with it.”
Like before, I would leave the paintings beneath a
shelter to save me from carrying them back later.
The weather deteriorates
again. It thundered in the night, reflecting the tension between me and Mum.
I feel hemmed in, unable to find a job and a flat. It seemed things couldn’t
get worse after my graduation from University.
The night of August 11 was stormy and I was worried
about my paintings left at the barn. Later, I was pleased to find them bone-dry
and I carried them back. It was then that a nasty
period pain struck me again, just like last month. Later, Eve visits, but I continue
to feel unwell and remain in bed.
On 12 August, my brother moves out. So now
it was just me, Mum, Dad and my youngest sister at home. Nan is about to
move into sheltered housing. I am disheartened at the continuing bad weather
and the farmer has begun to harvest the corn. I’ll be left with ploughed
fields, which I thought would look ‘boring.’
 |
| My Line Drawings of the Barn |
On 13 August, I express suicidal thoughts in my diary. As a diversion, I talk to Nan about her life story with the
idea of writing her biography. I notice her
eyes dew-over now and again. She doesn’t cry easily. I
pretend not to notice and continue with note making.
15 August is a terrible day. I have another row with
Mum about her double-standards with her parenting. She has the ability of
saying the right thing to bring out the worst in me and I complied. I felt
terrible afterwards and cried in my room. Mum goes to work with a stoic face.
Later, I read The
Thornbirds by Colleen McCullough. The scene where character Mary Carson is
found dead in her bed with flies buzzing around her troubles me greatly.
Something about it is familiar and presses a button. I suffer a
splitting headache and spend the afternoon enquiring after a flat. I have hit
an all-time low.
On 16 August, I write:
“It’s finally
come to the peak of my self hate and loathing. I Spent all day at the barn with Dad wearing dowdy painting clothes. I came back with 2 paintings.”
The Sun Dog Day
 |
| Sun Dog (Neptuul Wikimedia) |
17 August is what I term the ‘Sun dog Day’. A sun dog
(or mock sun) is an optical phenomenon consisting of a bright spot (sometimes
two) that flank the sun. I report in my diary that the sun finally
comes out and I go straight to the barn with 2 panels prepared. I wrote:
“I spent all day
on my painting and it is the best of the lot. I
was starved but Dad got me sandwiches. I did the sky and completed the first painting I did ages ago (I
had left the sky left blank). The sky is turbulent on all my
paintings.
Came home with 2 oil paintings, tired and flopped-out then returned to the barn.
The evening was misty and the sunset dramatic. Saw sun dogs and the red
reflected on bases of stratocumulus. Sketched until 9 o’clock. Did (2) close
ups of the log on the barn.”
What I don’t mention was the intense
grief I felt. I was surrounded by cornfields, a
big sky and a ruin. I was also painting close-ups of the plank. The biggest heartache pulls at my chest, bordering upon
ecstasy. My grief is expressed in my painting of the barn against a big sky.
I wouldn’t return to the barn until 20 August due to
appalling weather. I finally find art space
in the spare room of a flat owned by a nice couple. In truth, I was
desperate to get out of Mum’s due to my fear of losing my identity. I move my art materials into the spare room.
With the bad weather continuing, I complete line
drawings of the village church for Christmas cards. I keep myself busy
against my private fear. On 20 August, I manage to complete another
painting at the barn, but again, I have to finish early due to bad weather.
On 24 August, I write:
“The harvested field is a nice color
even without the wheat heads. Finished off a painting I had
begun the other day. Was pleased with the strong composition I did with the log
thing.”
It seems August has another surprise in store, the
remnants of hurricane Charlie. I feel cooped up and unable to paint the barn. I fall off my bike in the rain.
 |
| The barn against a big sky |
The following day, I get my novel The Lessons out for the first
time since 30 June 1986.
“I extended a few ideas. Read about how-to write from the book I
got from the City ages ago. Windy and rainy.”
With the bad weather continuing, I complete my village sketches in my rented room. On my way back, I got spooked by a
rattling sound beneath the railway bridge that separates our village from the
next. It turned out to be my footfalls generating vibrations in the railings.
Meanwhile, Dad is doing up the leaky workshop
that abuts our cottage to help save me money. He put a carpet and paraffin heater in there. I would eventually quit the art room and move
my paintings into the workshop.
On 30 August, I had written:
“I have put my easel in
the workshop. I’m going in there secretly tonight to see what it’s like. (And
in different very scrawly writing, I had put) Went to the workshop at 1am after watching the Twilight Zone on TV. Everyone
went to bed. Wrote a
little of my novel, the Lessons in
there.”
On 31 August, I wrote nothing, just a scribble. Odd.
Nan now has sheltered accommodation in the village.
She admits that she cried in the night with nerves. The room where she presently
sleeps is small and cold in the winter, not suitable for an 86 year old. I feel
sorry for her but vow to visit often.
Secret of the Barn
On 7 September, I return to the barn. I had written:
“Did 3 small paintings. I felt they had uncovered secrets. They were
studies of light on the heads of barley and the broken fence and sky..”
On 8 September, I am struck down with a terrible
period pain yet again. Three months in a row is highly unusual for me.
“Was going to
have a walk with Eve but I came over unwell. Had a gripping stomach ache. Had
to lay down in bed. Felt sorry for Eve. It must have
been boring for her.”
Later that day, Dad helped me move my art stuff into the workshop. I then helped Nan move into her sheltered
accommodation. I felt very depressed about her moving out and cried when I got
home.
On 9 September, my symptoms continue.
 |
| 9 Sept: I'm still painting at the barn & suffering symptoms |
“I had the weird pins and needles feeling you have with severe period pain but without the
pain. Felt all stupid and bad balance. (Once
I felt better) I immediately walked to
the fields to paint. Stayed there until 6pm! Meanwhile the farmer was taking in
the barley around me. It didn’t bother me too much. Did 5 small paintings. In the afternoon, a bale of hay
exploded and was whipped away in a whirlwind which carried it a few hundred
yards. Frightened me.”
12 September is my first day painting in the workshop.
I would produce copies of the dead tree (from last summer) and the barn
paintings. Depression hits in the evening and I finish early.
I continue in the workshop on 13 September and later
would watch Psycho II. I report it
was “quite good.” In truth, it
bothered me. I often say something is good when it it causes me to dwell on it.
On 15 September, I go out with Eve and her fiance to watch Aliens at the flicks.
I was feeling uneasy at the prospect because of the face-hugger in its prequel,
Alien.
The film had spurred a silent and sick
terror inside of me 3 years ago when I first saw it. My entire
holiday was ruined (I was stopping at my Aunt’s).
I was hyper-vigilant of that face-hugger suffocating its victims. The victims were
akin to the dead Mary Carson in The Thornbirds. Only, I didn’t understand
how.
On 17 September I would write, “Tonight was the first night I’m reworking on my novel, the Lessons. I read it without writing anything. Breezy
and dark out.”
On 19 September, Mum’s sister Aunt Maud and her
husband make a visit with Nan’s boxes. They see Nan in her sheltered
accommodation. Things aren’t good between Mum and her half-sister and they didn’t
stop long.
Later that evening, I would work on my novel.
Disturbed Night
On 20 September, I go to the fields to paint. I
report, “I was tired and fed up. Did 2 small paintings. (Later) Went to the workshop. When 10pm came, read
more of my novel. Became shit at one point, an all time low. So I decided to work
more hours per night. In the middle of the night I woke and could feel
myself fall asleep again. Felt horrible. Couldn’t move and heard loud noises in
my ear. Full moon.”
My disturbing falling-asleep sensation would recur
on 24 October 1986 after producing a copy of the close-up view of the barn door
with the plank across the doorway. The secret of the barn will be explained in the
final part of this story.
21 September, I would write:
“I felt awful
and sleepy all morning. Nan came to dinner. It was sunny. I have no
excuse not to do any painting. I went to the fields this afternoon. It’s all
ploughed. Painted a moody painting, reflecting how fed up I was. I don’t like the
painting but Dad does. Ran a bath (not very hot) and
soaked there. (Later) I wrote my novel – the beginning, the worst place.”
This moody painting would be my final alfresco piece
of the barn.
During my spell painting at the barn, I suffered
crippling period pains with unexplained abdominal cramps in between.
I’m working on my novel, The Lessons, reflecting a secret fantasy world.
I’m experiencing disturbing dreams and intrusive
thoughts.
I have horrid falling asleep sensations that recurs on 24 October.
My painting depicting a close up of the barn door and plank is hanging in my
bedroom.
Certain films and books such as Psycho, Aliens, The Twilight Zone and The Thornbirds appear to trigger my condition.
I also feel crippling grief whilst painting the
barn, particularly during the sun dog day.
Most telling is what I did to both locations
where I painted alfresco: I placed a dead tree at the mouth
of a railway tunnel. A year later, I would place a plank over a barn doorway.
I didn’t notice my recurring behavior.
 |
| Close up of the Barn Doorway with plank |
By 23 Nov 1986, I have completed my copies of my
barn sketches for an exhibition next summer. Dad frames one for me: a close up of the barn doorway with plank. I hang it in my
bedroom. That day in my diary, I had written:
“It’s nice to
have a tidy bedroom with my copy (of close up of
the barn door) on the wall and the
lampshade. (Later) “I wrote a bit of
my novel tonight. Getting windy out.”
That night I have a “horrid dream”.
The following story will explain everything about my paintings of the railway tunnel and the barn. It is horrifying.
However, the ending is unexpected and uplifting.
