I had been seated in the front row of the audience for the performance and remained behind for a little while, savouring the pleasure of the previous minutes. As I got out of my seat I was approached by the two elderly ladies sitting across from me. I was sure I had seen them before in my travels and I had certainly noticed them sketching quickly during the performance.
We quickly established that all three of us attended approximately the same events, but Gwyneth and Joy had come up with a unique way of thanking those whom they watched perform. Both ladies had produced a lovely sketch of each performer, and afterwards, took it to them and asked them to sign it. I watched each of the four artists be melted by this gesture, smile delightedly and chat away to the two women, charmed by the gift of art for art.
I myself was inordinately pleased when they showed me the sketch they had done of me, fur collar around my neck and face transformed by the music. They had caught me during the flamenco piece and my gaze was on the gilded ceiling, swirling red skirts and clicking black heels revolving in my eyes. The sketch stays with Gwyneth until I next see her, but the knowledge that my deep pleasure lives on in more places than just my head, is a reassuring one.