Good Men are Usually Quiet Men
When will we stop being disappointed by great artists being terrible humans?
When I was in Florida recently, I was taken aback while strolling around an outdoor upscale shopping area near Sarasota. There, a few feet away from me, was a very famous (in Britain), notoriously problematic (to put it mildly) man.
A tall, dark haired, handsome man, dressed in his unmistakable uniform of deep v neck white t-shirt, numerous cross necklaces, and a straw hat. Even if you didn’t know who he was you would do a double take; he may as well have been wearing a neon sign.
I have never been in such close proximity to a recently cancelled pariah. In London, this man could not walk down the road without comment.
I noticed he started saying hello to people in a nearby bar, unprompted. Florida clearly made him feel free, reborn. His recent associations with the deepest dirtiest arm of politics he could find refuge in had bolstered him. It’s clearly hard to keep a good bad man down.
I arrive home to the unshocking news that another great, sensitive artist has been accused of sexual assault. Another great man bites the dust, as his diehard fans rally to excuse him. What will happen to their love of the art?
