Caravan

by Remedios Varo

Sometimes what you want is a story with a happy ending, so here is one that I conjured up from Remedios Varo’s gorgeous painting Caravan (1955 )

I’ll be taking a break from posting on the Fur Cup during the summer in order to focus on final revisions to my new novel which I hope will be published in 2027.

Not wanting to tantalise, but the imaginary encounters with art here on the Fur Cup when I return might well reflect the women artists appearing in my new novel (from the 17th century and in Pop Art), so watch this space!

Meanwhile, here is the story of Alice, who lives in a magical caravan.

Caravan by Remedios Varo, 1955

Her name is Alice and she grew up in the city slums, playing a piano that rested slantwise on the top of a rubbish dump. She learnt melodies from the birds and puzzled out the notes in a book of carols that had been left in the rain.

An impresario on the lookout for talent discovered her and swept her off, Pygmalion-style. He gave her a bath and a floor-length gown.

Soon, she was the wunderkind of the concert halls that all the fashionable people wanted to see but, as time passed, her playing became brittle in sound and stiff in cadence.

One night, a strange, blue-cloaked person, too old to have one particular gender, came up to her after a performance and offered her a different life in a travelling magical caravan.

The impresario fought hard to keep his money-maker, promising her more gowns and fewer concert dates. But the person in blue simply mentioned that Alice, if she left her old life, would be able to watch the sun sink to the horizon every night.

So Alice plays now in fields or town squares or wherever the caravan has paused. Her blue-cloaked driver is her protector, mentor and teacher and lives in one of the impossible rooms within.

The caravan is the stage on which she performs, surrounded by starlight. When the audience has gone, the sound of the revolving sails lulls her to sleep, safe inside this robust, enchanted vehicle as it trundles steadily on, powered by spirit winds and steered by her friend.

When she is 18, she will leave.

She will travel on foot and by train to see the top and edge of the world, and she will write a symphony to be performed by a sky-wide murmuration of starlings.