Sir John Tavener 1944-2013

On 12th of November the world lost a truly unique personality and composer, and I lost a very dear friend and neighbour. John had that rare quality of a formidable intellect combined with a child’s trusting heart, and the combination could be devastating. I had painted a portrait of this lovely, impossible, brilliant, difficult, kind and often very funny man in 2001 for the National Portrait Gallery, and although we stayed in touch, it was only since he returned following a long stay in hospital after his last serious illness in 2007 that we became close.

He was very weak at first, so after work I would visit him at his home and we would chat gently, or I might draw him while he reclined on the large comfortable sofa that became his daytime residence and where latterly he did his composing. Despite often being in considerable discomfort, he unfailingly made kind enquiries after the progress of whatever I was working on, before rummaging around in the litter of manuscript paper and dogs that surrounded him to show me the progress of the latest composition, or to read me a poem he thought might yield good material. He knew full well that I couldn’t read a note of music, and his visual sense ( if he had one at all) was extremely patchy, but it didn’t seem to matter, and anyway, I always enjoyed looking at the distinctive freely penciled rhythms and patterns of his scores.

Pencil sketch by the artist of the composer, John Tavener, in final repose.

It was a joy to watch as, week by week, his interest in, and inspiration for composing returned. I feel these recent works have tremendous clarity, warmth and humanity, whilst looking mortality full in the face. They represent an immensely inspiring achievement in the face of often bleakly debilitating ill health, and are a tribute to his wife Maryanna’s loving support.

My most enduring memory however will be of how much we laughed together….and of his often wickedly irreverent comments that would unerringly hit the nail full on the head.

RIP John. It was a privilege to know you, and I shall miss you very much.

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