Oedipus is not about a young man who wants to sleep with his mother and kill his father. It’s about someone whose parents’ secrets are always there to threaten him. In the end his blindness destroys him. Oedipus is to blame yourself for your parents’ crimes.

Jacques Rivette

I watched so many films, up late surviving some interminable rubbish on Channel Four and sometimes BBC2 … and I was sixteen or seventeen. This was when? 1982 or 1983 and I knew what I was looking for. It was a secret I’d heard about in certain music, snippets of Bowie and Chopin, and I’d seen in TV programs for as long as I could remember (The Herbs, a children’s programme), and in paintings such as Turner’s, Van Gogh’s and Seurat’s. Occasionally there had been films, although I couldn’t remember their names. It was mostly, I should point out, something I’d found in the suburban parks scattered around where I lived – a kind of gargoyle quality that left me dizzy like when I saw a couple of punks kissing in a Victorian pavilion with bits of its roof flapping off. Continue reading “Jacques Rivette”


Perhaps you like keeping things to yourself. It may be that you feel life will spin out of control if you talk about it too much, or that you might jinx it, spoil it or take the fun out of it. Sometimes these things can be true but be careful about holding onto secrets. If people around you detect something about you is unknowable they’ll find it very hard to trust you.  Relationships need trust if they’re to offer us the things we hope they can contain.