When Writers Meet Art
Winston Churchill, Gate at Marrakech, 1935
Reproduction of paintings courtesy of Churchill Heritage Ltd.
(This is based on a true story.)
Ellen Brenneman
“My son does not care for serious things,” the Pasha
complained to his friend, Winston Churchill. “He turns
his back on the state of the world. He wants to paint.”
“Then let him,” answered Churchill, the already
world-weary statesman. “Perhaps through beauty,
the world will learn what it cannot seem to remember
from war to war.”
This was the man most often named as the man born
for the hour. And yet, he knew the artist is born for his hour too.
The artist can preserve what armies couldn’t—
the gates and towers of Europe, the little wooden synagogues,
the peaceful villages and the way the light fell on the stone.
The busy chatter of ordinary days.
This was the man remembered for his eloquence. And yet,
he knew the artist makes great speeches, too. Perhaps Churchill
knew there is a kind of light within the artist that can never
go out, no matter who holds power or how hard the fight.
