Tales From A Harrogate Caravan
Chapter 18 — Mick's Art
← Karl Swainston / Tales From A Harrogate Caravan
Speaking of creativity, I have to mention my brother, Mick. We were twins, but not identical, and he possessed an extraordinary talent for art.
Mick had been unfortunate in health, and in his early twenties his kidneys had packed in, and he was incapacitated on dialysis every single day of every year. Each night he would have to hook up to his machine in the bedroom, which Lill had kindly decorated for him before his return from hospital, and during the night the dialysis machine would sift out all the impurities in his body. Another debilitating effect of having no kidneys was that you were only allowed a cup or so of water each day, and it must have been killing for him to watch all of us go out on the town and consume copious amounts of beer.
He did try in the infancy of his illness to come out with us, but after a couple of occasions of watching us all get drunk, and he remaining sober, he felt the effort was only irksome and took to staying at home instead.
It was at this time he began to draw again. I say 'again' as he was an accomplished drawer at school, but upon leaving his secondary comprehensive he never entertained the artistic vent in his character. His illness, however, brought the desire back to him. He bought some pencils and some expensive paper and began to draw the dogs and cats in the house and then the people who came through the doors and then took his gift outside among the trees, fields, and woods, where he would spend hours developing the skill of capturing life before him.
Books on Caravaggio, Titian, Monet, Van Gogh, Aivazovsky, Turner, Seurat, and all the other great artists who have worked their genius on canvas began to appear and station themselves beside the chess classics. It wasn't long before Mick began to dabble in pastels and then undertake the study of oil on canvas. Whilst we played chess in the kitchen, he painted upon an easel.
One of his greatest achievements, at least I think so anyway, was when he took an idea from Caravaggio and blended it with a sketch of five men looking at the Sporting Life in the bookies, and he produced a truly great piece.
It is impossible not to live with someone and pick up their passion. And the same was for me. Through our Mick, I learnt, too, about all the great artists and the artistic styles and skills they adopted, which led me to my first confrontation on the Open University course.
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About Karl Swainston
Karl Swainston is a writer and storyteller whose work is forged from a life lived across the North of England and far beyond. Growing up on a Leeds council estate in the 1960s, Karl's journey was anything but linear. By the age of thirty, he had already lived a dozen lives: from the rigors of grammar school to a degree in Latin, a stint as a fishmonger, a period of discovery living in Marseille, and a return to the hustle of London. Whether working as a postman, a builder, or competing as a county-level chess player, he was, above all, an avid reader—constantly documenting the world around him. This restless spirit continued into his professional life. Karl later taught in Bradford, where he ran a specialist unit for 244 of the most excluded students from across the region—young people whom even the local Pupil Referral Units could not accommodate. Working alongside his old friend Malcolm, Karl spent his days navigating the volatility of Bradford's most aggressive and dysfunctional teenagers. Throughout his life, Karl has been an avid runner and has always shared his home with a rotating cast of beloved dogs and cats—companions who have been constant witnesses to his work. As a writer, Karl's range is as expansive as his history. He works across a wide breadth of genres, including fiction and short stories, autobiography and memoir, biography, non-fiction, and metaphysical writing, as well as providing sharp commentary, opinion, analysis, and essays. Whether writing about his years managing the Harrogate Arms or offering insights from his current adopted home in South East India, where he lives in a simple village with his dog, Bambi, Karl's voice reflects the full, untidy, and deeply human breadth of life. He continues to draw on the rich, decades-long tapestry of his experiences to tell stories that matter, proving that no matter where you live, the human story remains the same.
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