Two days ago I returned from a trip to England and the lowlands, Belgium and Holland. In London I was painting a portrait of myself for one of my favorite collectors that was designed for a specific antique frame. This is the third self-portrait I have done. The other two were reproduced in my book. This one was the brainchild of the collector who has a major body of my work that he has put together over many years. He is also a sculptor in his own right and enormously patient. He personally restored the beautiful Victorian frame he had chosen for this painting. The work took the usual agonizing turns but came to a happy conclusion on my last day there. I often wonder about the justification of self-portraits. Is it simply an ego trip? No, I don't think so. It is very much an exploration and revelation of character, my own and thus that of others close to me. It was really fascinating to watch the various aspects of my character reveal themselves as I worked, the layers, building as they essentially do with one's genetic origion and then years of the additions of experience. There is some discomfort at seeing oneself in this kind of light but it enlightens too, much like my journals of 45 years do.

My son Kevin joined me for a one of those rare things, a holiday, which seemed all too brief because it was almost perfect. The trip around Yorkshire and Wales organized by our beloved old friend Jill who abandoned her good husband to drive us about in racing car style. So may Brits I know seem to love cars in this way. We saw other old friends along the way. Indeed our selected stops were largely dictated by the importance for me of staying in touch with friends over the years. In Wales we visited with Michael, Jill's cousin, who was in Africa during World War II when we were both about five. Another old pal, Margaret, I met on a ship returning to Rhodesia in 1960.

The trip to the Netherlands was largely to track down yet another errant gallery. This one has disappeared with about $85,000 worth of art including several unique pieces! Our detective work did bear a little fruit and we made a formal complaint to the police to see if this time we can recover at least some of the work. Sad way to have to see the world, but we fell in love with Holland. I would very much like to spend a few weeks working there in the future in the shadow of one of my favorite masters, Rembrandt whose house we visited in Amsterdam with a sense of awe as we drifted into his time and mind as much as possible.

Now home and settling in for the last leg of completing the work for the Russian “Warrior” collection. One of the most recent pieces, an old soldier, is reproduced here. It was stirring to work with this man in Russia and now here on the other side of the world, thinking of him fighting in Hungary at the same time that my own father was fighting in Italy.