Frivolity, at the edge of a moral swamp, hears hymn singing in the distance and dons the galoshes of remorse.
Laughter is not a sound one first associates with the halls of the venerated Boston Athanæum. Hushed pages turning, footsteps echoing on marble, gentle conversations. Yet, there was impish laughter coming from “Elegant Enigmas,” an exhibition solely dedicated to the peculiar artwork of Edward Gorey. The show must straddle two audiences: those piqued by Gorey who wish to learn more, and those familiar with his oeuvre, where all facts are a loving recitation. It’s a small show, but it presents a quirky blend of familiar illustrations and obscure curios.
I approached the show from the perspective of a collector. I received a biography of Gorey as a high-school graduation gift from a good friend, discovered Pomegranate editions in college, and later spent a good portion of my print room earnings collecting first-editions and signed copies of Gorey’s work, until almost eerily, the print room and the Gotham Book Mart, the iconic store that published 15 of Gorey’s works, shut down simultaneously several years ago. I’ve got an original copy of the 1950 Harvard Advocate. Dogear Wryde postcards in their original illustrated envelopes. The three-dimensional Tunnel Calamity and pop-up book The Diminishing Party. Illustrated covers and of course, The Vinegar Works in their delightfully ghastly slipcase. Some of my oddities could rival those on display, but it did not diminish my appreciation of the exhibition’s efforts.
For me, it was refreshing to hear the laughter, watch the sly smiles appear like acidic rays of sunshine in the gallery. I discovered something new: Gorey’s fanciful envelopes he decorated back in college to send to his family, decorated with colorful patterns and stylized figures. I enjoyed seeing old favorites next to rare editions I’ve only read about. Reading is generally a private act, especially when reading fragile editions in one’s home. But in seeing the pages placed on the walls and hearing the reactions of others, reading became a communal activity.
The exhibition was divided into three sections—an introductory foyer with some of Gorey’s sketchbooks, stuffed animals, and biographical information; a room covering illustrations from his college days to the 1970s; and his later works including costume designs and miniature books. Accompanying analysis was kept to a minimum. Which was fine—I knew about the ballet, the wry undergraduate years at Harvard, the years spent in Cape Cod and if I wanted to refresh my memory, there was information in the foyer. I came to the artwork without the baggage of art history so I could observe and rediscover the wit. Gorey defied categorization in his life and saddling him with weighty text would sour the experience of personal enjoyment.
And for those who are just discovering Gorey—the New York Times article, the Pomegranate books, a local advertisement, a Gashlycrumb Tinies lunchbox—there’s something to see here too. You won’t feel lost. You’ll see the full range of Gorey’s creative offerings and write down some devilish quotes and titles to research later. You might identify the sketch for The Gashlycrumb Tinies and then discover it was part of a larger series, turning to view illustrations from The West Wing and sketches for the series’ packaging. You might want to learn more about his college years, his love for the ballet, or his theatrical designs.
My one wish is that more of the complete works would be available to peruse so viewers could see how his narrative and visual themes developed over the course of a story—the illustrations were unintended to be viewed in isolation. If inspiration struck from looking at an unfamiliar work, the visitor could sit down and learn more. I would have also wished to see all the pages from several of his miniature books, as they are quite hard to find elsewhere! Perhaps in a future exhibition that has the luxury of a digital database…
It’s a teaser for a larger exhibition that exists in my mind, one where Gorey’s cultural presence can be mapped, where viewers can learn more about the Gotham Book Mart and Elephant House, where all his contradictory influences can be discussed—all wrapped up in an elegant pop-culture bow. Until then, you should see “Elegant Enigmas” because it’s the first major exhibition on Edward Gorey, because he’s a lucid voice of nonsense in a murky time, because this is the last stop on the exhibition’s tour, and we need more exhibitions on him.
Here is the link to the article “Nightshade is Growing like Weeds” that reminded me to see it in the first place: http://www.nytimes.com/2011/03/06/arts/design/06gorey.html?_r=1&scp=1&sq=nightshade&st=cse
And here is the link to the Boston leg of the exhibition:
http://www.bostonathenaeum.org/node/150
