Glimpses Of Another World

With my upcoming exhibition at Tacit Galleries in Collingwood, I am returning to an earlier theme in my art practice, that of institutional environments.  The contrast between internal and external light is crucial in this work.  But also, there is the theme of mental incarceration.  The mind can play cruel games with us, imprisoning us with our own thoughts and inner turmoil.  Locked away in our preoccupations, our loneliness, there is a world out there that we sometimes feel unable to engage with.

View From The Attic, oil on canvas, 77 x 71 cm

The windows in these scenes could be computer screens in our so-called “connected” age.  Or they could be transparencies through which we view the world, made semi opaque by our preoccupations and inner turmoil.  But, as Olivia Laing discusses in her book “The Lonely City”, windows can be analogous to eyes.  Thus a sense of being walled off from the world is combined, even exacerbated by a sense of almost unbearable exposure.

Inside The Tower, Willsmere, oil on canvas, 76 x 61 cm

The theme of institutional environments in my art practice dates back to the 1990’s when I was studying art at RMIT University.  Contributing factors to this theme include;

• A history of depression in my family

• Having a half-brother who worked as a publications officer with the Mental Health Authority in the 1970’s & 80’s. He once drove me around the grounds of Willsmere Psychiatric Hospital in Kew. I can recall thinking to myself that if I was mad, I wouldn’t mind spending some time in this place – but of course, I never went inside. Not until the facility was closed which brings me to…

• Attending an open day at Willsmere in the early 1990’s, just after the facility had closed. I can remember it being an overcast drizzly day which set the scene perfectly

• The series “Jonathan Miller’s Madness” which was screened on ABC TV whilst I was studying at RMIT, which discussed the history and treatment of mental illness

• Witnessing the performance piece “Going Bye Byes” where British artist Stephen Taylor Woodrow converted a gallery space in Fitzroy into a hospital ward. This was part of the 1993 Melbourne International Festival

• Working in the state government offices in Treasury Place in buildings of a similar vintage to Willsmere and witnessing these offices being emptied of staff during the Kennett Government era

• Visiting the Cunningham-Dax collection of psychiatric art at the Victorian Artists Society whilst studying at RMIT

• Seeing the closure of psychiatric institutions as a symptom of a less caring society

• Arranging an inspection of the former Aradale Psychiatric facility in Ararat in western Victoria in 1998. Just me, the caretaker and this vast empty complex which is almost identical to Willsmere

Some of these dot points fall under the heading of political influences, but I have to remind myself that I am not necessarily painting “causes”. Instead, I am focusing on states of mind, although those states can be at least partially governed by external factors.

Consulting Rooms, oil on canvas, 42 x 61 cm

The concept of an existence outside the mainstream has always intrigued me, hardly surprising given my somewhat dysfunctional background.  For many years I tried to live a “mainstream” existence and failed.  My art practice gives me the opportunity to explore the “non-mainstream” as well as investigating the psychology of space as a metaphor for states of mind.  Perhaps there is a longing for human company in these works.  Then again, the concept of asylum also means sanctuary, refuge – that is, a safe place to be.

German psychiatrist Freda Fromm-Reichmann was one of the pioneers in the study of loneliness.  Her writings on the subject include, “Loneliness in its quintessential form is of a nature that is incommunicable by the one who suffers it.  Nor, unlike other non-communicable emotional experiences can it be shared via empathy.  It may well be that the second person’s empathic abilities are obstructed by the anxiety producing quality of the mere emanations of the first person’s loneliness.”

Art can play an important role in providing an avenue for artists to express their loneliness, their psychological pain in a creative, non-confrontational way.

Domestic Bliss, oil on canvas, 76 x 56 cm

I was tempted to title this exhibition “Lost Connections”, borrowed from the title of a book written by Johann Hari in which he discusses the causes of depression and some surprising cures.  But as Olivia Laing explains, loneliness can be the catalyst for creativity, for seeing the world with remarkable clarity.

The dynamic between sanctuary and confinement, beauty and loneliness often informs my work.  The source material may be a photograph I took a few weeks ago, or many years ago.  Light is used to create a sense of beauty or quiet contemplation in a scene that some may find disturbing.

“Glimpses Of Another World”, opens at Tacit Galleries, 191-193 Johnson St. Collingwood on 23rd March 2022.

References;

“The Lonely City” by Olivia Liang

“Lost Connections” by Johann Hari

Art Born Of Anger - David Wojnarowicz

“Hell is a place on earth.  Heaven is a place in your head.”  Thus wrote New York based artist David Wojnarowicz in his essay Shadow Of The American Dream.  He was a gay activist, print maker, painter, poet and photographer who died of complications from AIDS in 1992.

It was only in 2018 that the arts establishment decided to afford Wojnarowicz the recognition he deserved by staging a series of retrospectives of his work.  One of those exhibitions was held at the Whitney Museum in New York and was titled History Keeps Me Awake At Night.

Born in New Jersey in 1954, he began creating a body of work in the late ‘70’s.  But given his background it is remarkable that he made it to adulthood at all.  He was the youngest of 3 children, his mother was very young whilst the father was a violent alcoholic.  When David was 2 years old, his parents split up and after spending time with his siblings in a boarding house where beatings were frequent, they ended up with their father and his new wife in New Jersey, the universe of the neatly clipped lawn – according to Wojnarowicz, “where physical and psychic violence against women, gay people and children could be carried out without repercussions.” 

Chelsea Piers, the setting for much of Wojnarowicz’s photography

By the mid 1960’s, the Wojnarowicz children decided they’d had enough of their father’s violence and traced down their mother, but she had only a tiny apartment in Manhattan and was in no shape to be caring for 3 now troubled children due to having problems of her own.

David eventually ran away from home and found himself hustling in Times Square at the age of 15.  He also liked to draw and go to movies on his own.  He briefly returned to his mother’s apartment but she had already kicked out his siblings and at 17, he found himself on the streets for good.  He would sleep in boiler rooms or cars, some men were kind to him, some weren’t.  In 1973 his sister threw out a lifeline by offering him a bedroom in her apartment.

Wojnarowicz, Self Portrait 1983-85

In the late 70’s he began taking photographs of his friends wearing a mask of his kindred spirit Arthur Rimbaud in locations from his hustling days before he fell into the somewhat dysfunctional East Village art scene that included Nan Goldin, Keith Haring, Jean Michel Basquiat and Peter Hujar.

Jacket worn by Wojnarowicz at a 1988 AIDS demonstration.

But it was the AIDS crisis that propelled Wojnarowicz’s work to prominence in the 1980’s as, one by one, he witnessed his friends and lovers die of a disease the Reagan Administration refused to name.  Art (and for that matter, sex) provided him with an avenue to escape the loneliness and isolation of his life – to escape the “prison of the self” as author Olivia Liang puts it in her book The Lonely City.

Wojnarowicz, Death Of American Spirituality 1987

In his wanderings around New York he often found himself at the Chelsea Piers which were left in a dilapidated state following the decline of shipping in the 1960’s.  It was here where his erotic and creative juices were fed and it was here where the ravages of the AIDS epidemic took hold.  Photography was to Wojnarowicz an act of taking possession, a way of making something visible and keeping it in storage.  He also produced some short films and his writings included the autobiography Close To The Knives (1991). The title says it all.  After he was diagnosed with AIDS in the late 80’s, his work took on a more political edge and he became involved in public debates around medical research and funding, morality and censorship in the arts, and the legal rights of artists.

Wojnarowicz, One Day This Kid 1990

According to Laing, 66,000 people died of AIDS in New York City alone between 1981 and 1996 when combination therapies became available.  People were sacked from their jobs and rejected by their families, patients were left on hospital trolleys (that’s if they were able to be admitted in the first place).  Nurses refused to treat them, funeral parlours to bury them and politicians and religious leaders blocked funding and education.

Wojnarowicz, Green Head 1982

In Close To The Knives Wojnarowicz wrote “My rage is really about the fact that when I was told I had contracted this virus it didn’t take me long to realize I had contracted a diseased society.”   He died 22 July, 1992 with his lover and family beside him.  The expression triumph in the face of adversity is a tediously overused cliché, yet it seems to describe his life.  In spite of everything he went through, he was able to so intensely and eloquently express his inner most feelings through a variety of media.  And act as a passionate spokesman on behalf of others.

Chelsea Piers

References;

The Guardian

The Lonely City – Olivia Laing, Picador Press, 2016

Henry Darger - Outsider Artist

The term outsider artist seems to be applied to those who are self-taught or naïve art makers. Typically, they tend to have little or no contact with the mainstream art world and in many cases, their work is discovered only after their deaths.  The term is also applied to artists with intellectual disabilities or mental illnesses as well as those on the margins of art and society: the homeless, ethnic minorities, migrants and folk artists.

An article in The Guardian in 2014 described outsider art as “hot”, art fairs are now dedicated to it and they draw big crowds and big money.  It’s interesting how the term outsider artist tends to be applied by gallerists, academics, psychologists and art school trained artists – that is, by those on the inside.

But what of the artists themselves?  One of the best known outsider artists is Henry Darger (1892-1973) who lived almost his entire life in Chicago.  In her book “The Lonely City”, author Olivia Laing describes how easy it is for people to vanish in cities, retreating into their apartments due to illness (mental and/or physical), bereavement or simply being unable to impress themselves into society.  Darger was just such a person.

He was born in the slums of Chicago and when he was 4, his mother died of a fever shortly after giving birth to his sister who was immediately adopted.  His father became a cripple and when Henry was 8, he was sent initially to a Catholic boys home and then to the Illinois Asylum for the Feeble Minded.  He was considered a bright student at school but strange behavioural traits resulted in his incarceration.  He was aware of the injustice of all this, “I, a feeble minded kid.  I knew more than the whole shebang in that place”, he wrote in his journal.

Whilst there, Darger received the devastating news that his father had died.  He was subject to dreadful treatment at the asylum, images of which later appeared in his art.  He made several escape attempts, the first resulted in being caught by a cowboy who lassoed him and forced him to run behind a horse back to the asylum.  Instances of child abuse at the asylum are well documented.

Eventually, Darger made it back to Chicago for good and found work as a janitor in a Catholic hospital where he would spend the next 54 years, working long and arduous hours. The only break was when he spent a year serving in World War One. He lived alone in a tiny apartment and filled it with illustrations, paintings and writings.

Darger’s apartment

At around 1911, he began work on a novel called “The Realm Of The Unreal”, that would eventually run to over 15,000 pages.  After the war Darger began to illustrate the novel with watercolours.  No one knew of the existence of this novel until after his death and it is claimed that when he was on his deathbed, he asked his landlord to destroy it.  But the landlord, Nathan Lerner, saw the value in Darger’s work and saved it.  Some of it is now on permanent display at INTUIT: The Centre for Intuitive and Outsider Art in Chicago.

His novel, which is perhaps in the vein of Tolkien or the Game of Thrones, is about the Vivian girls; that is seven girls who are his heroines who lead an army to free a group of child slaves who are being held captive by an evil army.  So it is a classic good versus evil story.  It is likely the genesis of this novel was his experiences at the asylum and his war service plus his appalling loneliness.  But Darger has left no information about why he produced this vast quantity of work.  It is believed he saw no value in it.

Thus it could be argued that it’s the intrigue surrounding Darger’s work that has contributed to the aura around it.  If he had been actively pushing these works during his lifetime it is possible they would not have the popularity they enjoy today, where prices in the $100,000s are not uncommon.  There is a bitter irony to this story of course, as it would appear he produced this art just for himself, perhaps in order to make his life more bearable.

With so little to go on, Darger’s life and art have been the subject of extensive analysis which have included suggestions of paedophilia.  Yet from his journals, we know child protection was a major concern of his.  We also know that he was a devout Catholic who regularly attended mass, that he had one good friend called William Schloeder who he possibly met during the war and called on regularly until Schloeder’s mother died in 1956.  Schloeder then moved to San Antonio to live with his sister and died 3 years later.  This left Darger entirely friendless.

We also know he taught himself to draw by collecting and tracing thousands of images and he also used collage and free hand drawing. 

Laing suggests it would be foolish to suggest Darger was not undamaged by his past, not the subject of some kind of breach with the external world. But she quotes a declaration of child independence he made in the “Realms” which include, “the right to play, to be happy and to dream, the right to normal sleep during the night’s season, the right to an education, that we may have an equality of opportunity for developing all that are in us of mind and heart”.

References;

The Guardian

Olivia Laing - The Lonely City

The Good Stuff - The Secret Life & Art of Henry Darger