Give me a good bottle of black ink and a blank white paper and let the fear & fun begin. One totally intriguing illustrator who “cross-hatched” his way through life, lived in a macabre yet merry wrought iron little world. His home is open to the public, a home called “Elephant House” and is located just off Route 6A in Yarmouthport, MA. Perhaps the elephant that lived within were a mere collection of 45,000 books which obviously gave him creative fuel to literally burn that black midnight ink. Take a trip to Edward Gorey House.
It’s right on your way to Cape Cod.
They say it was an ordered clutter, all those books and items from yard sales and then there were cats too. His unusual collection provided him to publish more than 70 books of drawings, starting in the fabulous fifties. I was fortunate enough to be given many signed books by a dear friend of mine who wanted me to keep them. Keep them I do, I have them all safely on a shelf and love to use them often, like good silver. What style, a unique drawing style with a mordant wit and taste for the macabre. Clever title,” Goreopgraphy” – funny, they never offered that subject when I went to school. I would have signed up right away.
His parents divorced when he was only 11 years old and then re-married years later. I can hardly imagine that. Edward Gorey attended Harvard which is another thing I could hardly imagine given the fact that my lack of math haunts me to this day. Rosy Lamb
attended Harvard too, the one that sculpted “Clarice” – you remember her, her work haunts me the same way as this artist.
Perhaps, there is some underlying message for me from both of these artists. Intrigue all from a bottle of ink or ball of clay. Perhaps the same intrigue I have, each time I face a blank paper, fear, with delight. You know what I am talking about, standing on the same line again for the roller coaster, the one that haunts me but makes me throw my head back and feel my heart The thrill of fear. That said, I must go finish an illustration for a pending engagement. Scared, a bit, but the thrill of the suspense is just killing me.