henry darger

henry darger Originally uploaded by dressform.

so i was going to go to bed early last night, but got sucked into "in the realms of the unreal" a film about henry darger and his life. i have loved darger's work for a long time - especially after seeing a show of it at the folk art museum in NY a few years back. i knew the story - reclusive janitor by day, creater of a 15,000 page novel with illustrations by night. the volumes only to be discovered upon his death by his landlord... but i was still captivated by the film. there are only 3 known existing photos of mr. darger. and the film-maker animated some of his paintings.... it was captivating.

got me to thinking. darger made the work because he really had to - no bones about it - he was so poor he couldn't afford to have a dog - but he managed to buy watercolor, use scraps of paper, use both sides of paper (often taping piece after piece together to get the size he wanted), invent his own techniques of copying imagery (by using carbon paper and tracing figures from a giant collecion of advertising, etc.) in order to create his own world. literally. (he had sheets that listed casulties of his make believe war - in long hand). somehow the story that wraps around all these images makes them that much more intense. his art (and he probably wouldn't have even called it that) was his life, his escape, his solace, his battleground (where he struggled with good and evil, god, chilhood vs. adulthood). i could never hope to be that incredibly dedicated. it would mean turning away from so much.... and yet i can understand the desire to do this (although, don't worry, i don't think i'm as psychologically disturbed as mr. darger).

these last few days i have found being in public incredibly trying. i have to turn my music up on the bus because i just don't want to hear another person talking. i can't fathom engaging in small talk about the weather. i intellectually know that grieving is a process and that i can't speed it up or make it go away with a twitch of my nose. nor do i really want to... i know time will perform its magical number and that i will wake up one morning "feeling fine" - things shift and morph. this past week, what i have noticed and am keen on is how we have invented small things to symbolize the process: wearing black in mourning, tearing a ribon or piece of clothing to represent the pain of loss, lightling a candle for X number of days, wearing a locket with a picture until it doesn't feel so necessary to do so.... it's where the physical meets the spiritual. and i feel like you have to adjust and tweek the ingredients until you find a meaningful solution. and that solution involves responding to the individual or pet that has passed....

i am headed to LA to see family again. i am looking forward to it. also looking forward to good art. there are several shows to see... i'm hoping for more inspiration....