|Harry Kent, Brett Whiteley contemplates old age, |
pen on paper, 27x23cm
In his 40's Brett Whiteley was nicked-named Peter Pan.
He seemed to have the spirit of eternal youth. He had the playfulness of a pickled boy.
At 44 he felt that although his body was aging he still had the same spirit as when he was 14.
When he looked in a mirror he could see a body aging. He could trace the slow ravages of death.
In his early 50's he died.
He never knew old age. Just the dread.