From what I have read about the man, Turner was quite the eccentric, not easy to get along with, and ridden with profound thoughts that his peers could not fathom. He sounds exactly like my sort of fellow, which is why he is on my list of the "three Williams" I admire so much: Turner, Blake, and Hogarth.
I am told he once rowed out into the middle of the Thames, so as to not be counted in the census. I heartily approve of his tiny act of rebellion.
I often gaze at this painting for far too long, imagining how Turner was the sort of man I would have been proud to have as a friend. His expression speaks volumes to me.
I do not have any of his talent, but he still seems to be a kindred spirit. If there is indeed a Heaven, where we retain anything of our former identities, I look forward to meeting him. If not, he has continued to live through me, during every day of my anonymous life.
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