March 14, 2026
Dear All,
I woke up with lines from Shakespeare’s “Julius Caesar” in my head:
Soothsayer: “Beware the Ides of March.”
………….
Caesar: “The Ides of March are come.”
Soothsayer: “Aye, Caesar, but not gone.”
I often think of the soothsayer’s warning at this time in March, but this year it seems more appropriate and has more resonance than ever.
As does Cassius’ comment about Caesar, “Man, he doth bestride the narrow world like a Colossus.”
Well, we’ll see. It seems to be all that can be said at this moment. The ides of March are mid-March i.e. now.
A young friend came to tea yesterday – she’s an English teacher at the Catholic school here in Key West and she’s teaching “Much Ado About Nothing” to 17-year-olds, who of course, want to discuss love and blindness, reality and illusion. She tells them to persevere with the language they find difficult as 21st-century Americans, because the story is always worth the effort and is always about Now.
And “Julius Caesar” is mostly about over-weening arrogance and its downfall. When I was eleven and saw the film, with John Gielgud and James Mason as Cassius and Brutus, the chief conspirators, and Marlon Brando as Mark Antony, I was already in love with the power of the language. We leapt about all that summer brandishing dustbin lids (garbage bin covers – but they were metal and clashed nicely in duels) and uttering pseudo-Shakespearian oaths.
The older I get, the more I love and respect Shakespeare, and the happier I am that I was named after Rosalind in the forest of Arden. We knew he mattered, of course, as we were told so at school, and you can’t grow up in England without being immersed in him – or you couldn’t then. But now I’m stunned and moved all over again at the freshness, the exactness of language, the insight and wit. The sheer humanness. We need it.
My friend the sculptor John Martini had an opening to his new show last night, called “Wild Kingdom,” and told me that he’s created all his hefty metal sculptures since January – which is why we haven’t seen much of him. Many of the pieces – and his drawings and prints – feature houses set on fire, animals and trees with flames shooting out of them. The drawn faces on the wall show shock and numbness. John shows in the US and in France. His partner, Carol Munder, is my favorite photographer of mysterious objects.
Another treat last week was a five-man band of Cuban musicians, “Cortadito,” who played at the Studios of Key West; they were like the younger brothers, or sons of the Buena Vista Social Club. It was impossible not to dance to them and soon everyone was leaping in the aisles to that inimitable Cuban rhythm, throwing off anxiety and all thoughts of anything else but the music. We so need a world in which art, music, theatre and literature thrive – and in the face of a total ban on any funding for the arts in the State of Florida, Key West is doing well.
(And my studio mate, Jessica, left a rose on my desk the other day…)
Meanwhile, our plans for the Coming To Our Senses retreat in Arles in May are close to fruition and I’m so much looking forward to the week of immersing ourselves in the beauty of that place, with the wonderful group of people who are joining us. We still have a couple of places open and it’s not too late to sign up.
So, let’s dance, sing, make art, talk about Shakespeare, and get safely through the Ides of March!
Affectionately,
Ros