6th January, 2013
Today is the birthday of my brother, Anthony Minghella. He would have been 59.
Last year someone sent me a link to a wonderful photograph of him on location, which I hadn’t seen before. I wanted to share it today, but alas I can’t find it. There are so many photos on the net, I’m just trawling through a million Ants, and after a full hour, I’ve given up.
Maybe it’s a lesson. Not to dwell in the past. Not to wallow in a patchwork of Google thumbnails.
He used to say that you should never let a day go by without creating something. That means something new. That means living, not dwelling.
Still, I confess, I do dwell, and please allow me to do so each year on 6th January.
Perhaps my failure to find the “right” photo of Anthony is indicative of a certain elusive quality. He was famously adaptable. He seemed to be able to turn his hand to anything: theatre, radio, TV, film, opera.
He hated, as all artists do, to be pinned down. Maybe that’s why I can’t find the photo. Maybe there isn’t just one.
Just as there isn’t ONE photo of him, there isn’t ONE photo that captures his work.
But there is a “movie moment” I find myself returning to. It captures his ambition, his originality, his soaring big-heartedness. On a day like today, this seems a good enough place to go.
I’ll always go back to that church.