Dreaming Into The Blue With Jarman
Dublin - early morning Foto: Victor-Joe
On a sleepless night in early winter last year, I read about the Derek Jarman exhibition Protest! in Dublin. I was excited, a flock of birds fluttered into the sky.
Derek Jarman, artist, painter, director, writer and gardener has inspired me all my life.
Derek Jarman Selbstportrait 1959
Very young, I saw the first time one of his films: -The Tempest- from 1979 after Shakespeare's Storm. At the time, I fell in amazement into the oniric, queer atmosphere, fell in love with Ariel, the air spirit, who I didn't even ask myself whether he was woman or man. He was just a very beautiful, sad creature. I trembled at Caliban and feared for Miranda. And I listened to Prospero's hypnotic voice. I heard the breath, saw the dream images bathed in blue light.
The Tempest, 1979, Derek Jarman with Heathcote Williams as Prospero, Toyah Willcox as Miranda, Karl Johnson as Ariel und Jack Birkett as Caliban
Derek Jarman said about the film: "I hope to capture something of the mystery and atmosphere of the original without descending to theatrics. There are films where magic works."
I experienced this magic, I lived a breathtaking dream, completely awake and surrendered and heard the voice over of Prospero say at the end: “We are such stuff /As dreams are made on, and our little life / Is rounded with a sleep.”
Derek Jarman Blue, Film 1993
-Blue- is Jarman's last film before he died of AIDS. The film shows the color blue without interruption or change, underlaid with a sound collage from his texts, spoken by him and some selected actors, such as Nigel Terry and Tilda Swinton. The music was composed by Simon Fisher-Turner. Derek Jarman was blind from his illness. When asked why there are no pictures in this film, Derek Jarman replied: "Because the virus is invisible."
From the movie -Blue- 1993: "For our time is the passing of a shadow And our lives will run like sparks through the stubble."
Today it´s more then a year after the dream that brought me on the trip. Since we came back end of december 2019 changed the daily life. Since then we lived in strict quarantine for more than 3 months. A summer followed with exhausting rules and without the warmth of lightness. One night I stood on the small balcony of my room and wanted to lean over the railing to see the dark sea far away. Instead, a little further up the street I saw figures dressed in white protective suits, who came silently from a neighbor's house and silently got into a white car with a blue light. It's still very close there. The invisible virus. I haven't seen that again in the small village where I live. This silent threat. An American horror film. That was at the very beginning. End of March / beginning of April 2020. And now it's suddenly back: the virus. Not suddenly, of course, that's rubbish. It was already clear in March that he would appear again in autumn and winter. A question of logic. Still, I had the absurd hope, the unreal belief that it would just go away. For a little lightheartedness. The restrictions here are not as strict as they were in spring. There is a night curfew and you are not allowed to leave the village on weekends. That means, nobody is allowed in from outside, from the big cities. The virus is celebrating an exuberant party. I will continue to report.
Derek Jarman Modern Nature
This is Jarman's diary from January 1989 to September 1990.
Rebecca Mead writes in her article -Reading Derek Jarman Is Strangely Consoling- from April 13th in The New Yorker how consoling it is for us to read now in Derek Jarman's diaries -Modern Nature- in these times of Corona. Because he describes what we cannot grasp, only sometimes guess, in the tweets from emergency doctors or the rare reports from the Corona wards.
He writes about how the illness overwhelms him and manages to put the experience of fear, the fears and the unknown into words. After being tormented by night sweats in fear for months, he wrote: “The bed is awash but I have decided to enjoy them rather than fear them. It’s like deciding to enjoy the rain rather than scurrying into a shelter.” He is only released from the hospital for a short time, but has to be admitted again immediately because of severe pneumonia. “The shadowy black bats of breathlessness swarm through the evening, roost in my lungs,” he wrote. “There is nothing quite as frightening as losing your breath in an attack of coughing. Clasped by the velvet wings of the bats, I throw the sheets back.”
Prospect Cottage
I read that in these times and I am suprised that Jarman is so close, here today, in the pandemic, with rereading his diaries.
When I read about the exhibition that night, everything vibrated in me with the desire to go there. I wanted to see the films again, Caravaggio, Wittgenstein, The Garden, look at his paintings, enter his universe. I fell asleep and dreamed this dream: With the ship of the cunning Odysseus I went across the wild sea to visit Ulisses and his wife Penelope, also called Molly Bloom. Jarman was the handsome captain who turned into a sailor as we stepped off the deck. We went through the Dublin pubs with friends and in the morning we said goodbye to continue our journey.
Haus in Dublin Ulysses
And I missed the companions of the night. And I knew I would be on my way to Dublin. Not by plane. Better with the ship. There was no ferry to Ireland from where I live. So off to France. And on my way, I could make a detour via Paris.
Yves Klein IKB 3, Monochrome Blau, 1960
Soon I discovered there was an exhibition by Hans Hartung, Greco, Toulouse-Lautrec, Bacon in Paris. And Matisse, but this was in Mannheim. So also there on the trip to Dublin? There were so many tempting detours, so much to see and many friends to visit. I started imagining a journey.
Fähre Ulysses Holyhead-Dublin
I was very lucky that my son accompanied me on this trip. When we finally arrived in Dublin, 5016 kilometers were behind us, we had seen 21 exhibitions and visited many friends in 20 days. We were amazed and admired, felt inspired, kindled and happy. We went by train and bus and once even by ship.
IMMA Dublin with the exhibition Protest! Derek Jarman
This is the Irish Museum of Modern Art, with the adorable female abbreviation name IMMA. So here I was allowed to see Protest! Derek Jarman's exhibition.
We could not do all. But nearly …
