I have this picture. It’s very precious.
Not because Sir William Russell Flint is my favourite artist but because when I see it, my 5 year old eyes are watching my beautiful, glamorous Jackie Onassis mother, get ready for another grand party. I had to dress up too, my long black hair tied up in silk ribbons and in my best party dress and shiny shoes. I was then permitted into the ballroom (usually forbidden) to hand canapés to the swirly perfumed guests… men with shiny creaky shoes, whiskers and silk scarves and ladies with fur stoles, chandelier earrings and tiaras… before reluctantly being whisked off upstairs to miss all the fun.
The Flint hung on my parents bedroom wall. I always asked “is that you Mummy?”, she always said “no sweetheart, it’s just a painting of some ladies”, but I never believed her. I was absolutley convinced it was her, in our ballroom, on a day when I hadn’t been allowed.
I still think that.
Anyway, Sir William is off to the framers for a new mount, frame and UV glass. The tatty 60’s frame that Mum had chosen and my refusal to believe her lies will just exist in these pixels.