Cassette 2: Ulster Museum (1973)

**'Red Love: the Passion of Claudia Atieno'** in the Ulster Museum, Belfast. Introduction by Mary Breathnach, director of collections.

> *"Atieno does not expect viewers to know about the now defunct Joyeuse café in Cornwall in Western  Europa, but she certainly expects viewers to understand that if the title says there is a sword in the painting, then there **is** a sword in the painting, and it is your job to find it."*
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The exhibit showcased some of Atieno's most popular works in the wake of her disappearance, and was sponsored by the Harmon Family Trust.

## Still Life with Tomato Plant and Sword, oil on canvas, 1962

One of Atieno's most debated works, this piece depicts the sparse, bare garden of the Café Joyeuse behind a sparse tomato plant on a trellis, the sun glinting off the fruit in thin orange and pink strokes. The layer of paint on this canvas is remarkably thin, much more so than most of Atieno's work in oil, almost resembling watercolour. The grass is unkempt and patchy, and a large blotch of infertile soil is a mound, suggesting that the sword, which is not visible anywhere in the painting, is buried in the ground.

The painting premiered at the Berkshire Museum where Atieno was living at the time, as a resident artist in the former United States. It helped Atieno rise to fame in the art world.

Roimata recalls her visits to this café which was named after Charlemange’s sword, with Claudia. They would often eat sandwiches or scones in the back and watch the little garden, which had a somewhat pathetic vegetable patch. The only thing that grew somewhat well was the tomato plant, which was raided by squirrels just as the fruit reached maturity. A handmade replica of the café's namesake hung above the door to the garden, and Roimata describes it, inviting the listener to imagine the sword buried in the garden, as well as the "uninspired" and "drooping" tomato plant, which is nevertheless made beautiful by Claudia's hand. She asks the listener how they will be remembered.

As she studied the painting, Roimata wondered further if the sword was, indeed, buried in the mound at all. Though that idea would be in-line with the Society's worldwide order of peace, she hints that Atieno was not, and instead was a fan of subtle and symbolic critique. The shadow on the dirt suggested that there could be a hole, rather than a mound, and that the sword, once buried, has been dug up. She says that Atieno does not know where the sword is, and turns the question on the viewer instead. Perhaps you hold the sword?

## Marketplace, Summer Afternoon, 1965

This painting depicts a crowded food market. The merchants in sight, including an apple vendor, appear almost boneless, bending in obscure curves that never reach a point. Behind them, the ocean is clearly visible. Roimata believed the scene was painted from Plymouth, recognising it from her time living there, although other critics saw it as St. Ives. Roimata says that she could be wrong - the purpose of art is to help one remember more beautifully, not more clearly.

## Stapler (1968)

This painting irritated many more mature artists, as it looked like a poorly lit photograph of an office supply catalogue, due to its subject of a black Swingline stapler on a black background. Roimata asks the listener if all darkness is the same.

She speculates that Atieno was simply showing off her skill in photorealism, rather than making a commentary on the commentary of the pop art movement. According to her, Claudia prioritised mastery of form and technique, while other artists, such as Mangakāhia, look for something "more" - implying meaning, or commentary.

Roimata describes one of her favourite activities at the Cornwall house; diving off the low-hanging cove cliff at high tide. She often invited Claudia to dive with her, but never did, and though that she could never truly explore the scenery of her home as a result, no matter how much she painted and sketched it. She was not scared of heights, or the ocean - it was falling that scared her, the risk of pain and embarrassment. Roimata extends the subject to talk about Atieno's work, where she believes she was afraid to take risks. Despite or because of her belief in dastardly conspiracies, she declined to make bold statements with her work, much to Roimata's disappointment.

She brings up the subject of Claudia's "disappearance" only to dismiss it, saying that this is merely a hiatus, and not an abnormal amount of reclusiveness for an artist. She believes that Claudia is merely taking a few months to refresh her art before returning to the public scene, and asks the listener to consider the Swingline logo and what it means to be convinced to buy something.

## Fingers. Together. (1967)

Claudia herself, and her "sometimes-partner" Pavel Zubov are the subjects of this painting, which shows their hands entwined. Atieno had met Pavel, a sculptor, in 1965 in St. Petersburg. There is a simple contrast between their skin tones (Claudia's dark, Pavel's light) that catches the eye with the crosshatch pattern it creates. Roimata invites the viewer to think about whether they can tell which are the male fingers and which are the female, and whether race is linked to skin colour.

In Pavel's hand, there were visible veins under his skin, and the soft brushwork created a gauzy effect. There is natural association with the softness and love, even young love, though Roimata reminds the listener that given this was a self-portrait in the late 1960s, Claudia might be being a little generous with her age. She also warns that an idealistic version of love may not be appropriate for this painting, either. Noting Atieno's short, chewed-down nails, she suggests anxiety, while Zubov's are neatly manicured. One of his fingers, the pinkie, is out of view, and Roimata says with scorn that some critics have suggested this to be symbolic of the rumoured child they lost two months before its birth. She remarks angrily that at best, this is a weak symbolic gesture for the immense tragedy it supposedly portrays, and at worst, it's a downright lie. She asserts that Claudia never carried Pavel's child.

Instead, she says that the hidden finger symbolises Pavel's duplicity in their relationship. Although Claudia was polyamorous, Pavel hid all his partners from each other, telling each that he was monogamous with them. Pavel stayed with Claudia at the Cornwall house "most of the time" from Roimata's point of view, and they had no shame about revealing their bodies in front of other guests, or any reservations about letting their "passion" be known. Roimata admired their free spirit and blunt intellectual honesty, and could "personally attest" to the blurring of friendship, romance, and sexual relations in the house, hinting that she and Claudia had one of these relationships. She described Atieno as demanding total transparency, judging lies by omission harshly, and eventually came to suspect that Pavel was being deceptive in their relationship. Roimata asks the listener if Claudia is being completely honest with them, via the painting, and whether they are being completely honest with anyone.

> *More about this painting and related paintings in Cassette #10: Karikari Contemporary Gallery (1986)*
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## Sunshine Afternoon (1968)

Pavel apparently found this painting in his basement in 1971. It showed sunlight slicing through grey clouds and onto choppy ocean waves. Roimata presumes this is the Celtic Sea, and insists the viewer look closely at the choppy water, without elaborating further.

## Self-Portrait with Cat (1972, unfinished)

Another painting discovered in Pavel's home, this piece is apparently another version of "Self Portrait with Cat" despite Claudia's apparent dislike of the work. Roimata claimed she was completely unwilling to discuss this piece, except to say that she had never had a cat. In what can be seen of the woman - purportedly Claudia - she has the same facial expression, of fondness, while she holds the calico cat, which seems to sag into her lap. They sit in a wicker chair in the enclosed patio at the back of her house. Both the woman and the cat appear older, and the light coming through the window is orange; a sunset. Roimata invites the reader to look at where the brush strokes end, and asks why Atieno would paint this painting again.

The following references content that only appeared in the official transcripts available on Patreon and may not be canon. *Learn More*

According to Roimata, the cat was named Matryoshka. She was a haggard stray who appeared on the island one day, and none of them (Claudia, Roimata, or Pavel) could figure out how she had got there, as it was impossible for her to have swum from the mainland and the motorboat was too small for her to stow away on. She was named Matryoshka because when Pavel first found her, she was pregnant.

End of Patreon-exclsuive content.

Roimata continues the story of Atieno and Zubov's relationship, in which he eventually admits to having four other lovers, though he claimed that he told her this because her loved her the most and didn't wish to keep anything from her. He vowed that he would leave them all for her, and she threw a salad fork at him. She told him that she could not love him, if he did not love the rest of the world as equals, and though Roimata sound this sentiment sickeningly idealistic, she understood Claudia to mean that Pavel's deception was a lack of respect for himself and the other men and women he was seeing.

Roimata describes her and Claudia's relationship as intense - they would love passionately, but fight passionately too, though as long as she was honest, they could work through their disagreements. They argued over what to do about Pavel, which involved Claudia throwing things and Roimata fearing to speak in case she started crying in front of Claudia. Eventually, they agreed that Pavel had to leave and he was banished from the house. He came back twice, before staying away on the third banishment. Even so, Claudia would sometimes receive parcels from him with no return address; pieces of animals, which she claimed were simply studies for sculptures he was working on, and refused to call the authorities or attempt to get the packages to stop.

Roimata points out the vague figure sketched into the back of the painting, along the cliff edge. Though some believed it to be a tree, she claims that there has never been a tree there as long as she has been at the house. She does not know the man's intentions.

She reiterates that she does not think Claudia has disappeared, though she has not been seen since October of 1972. The last day she saw her before she left to give a lecture at the rebuilt Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam, Pavel arrived at the house, and she answered the door to him, nodding to allow him in but otherwise not communicating. She does not comment on the strangeness of his appearance considering his banishment from the house, only remarks that she does not know why he was there. She also does not want to implicate him in her disappearance, indicating that she is suspicious about it after all, though she hopes she is simply home near Dodoma, or in another artists' commune in Halifax, or perhaps in a cottage by the sea. She hopes Claudia will return home with some new, exciting and thought-provoking art.

> *More about this painting and related paintings in Cassette #1: Tate Modern (1971), Cassette #10: Karikari Contemporary Gallery (1986), and Reel #10: June 21, 1961.*
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