Image source and a short YouTube summary about Henry Darger

I often wonder how my writings, be they stories or else, would be like had I not spent years reading, watching videos, asking for advice, and doing many things in the name of improving them. What would my surrealism look like had I not watched David Fincher movies or read translated work of Haruki Murakami?

This question comes to me as a part of a much bigger question; what is pure art? What would a talented painter's work look like without a 4 years degree? When you strip all the guidance, what would art look like?

That Is Why I Would Like To Meet Henry Darger For Lunch

Maybe at a restaurant somewhere, he would come in wearing his Janitorial uniform from whatever hospital he was working on during that time period. Maybe he would talk about how his mother died while giving birth when he was four and how he never met his sister.

He would talk about how his father sent him to a catholic school after falling ill. He will reflect upon his troubled childhood and actions during a time period.

I think he will either try to talk to me about how much he loved God or how much he hates God depending on what time period I would meet him.

I was always charmed by this enigmatic outsider artist, who would pick up his finds on the street and put them in his home studio. Never had any money.

"I had a very poor nothing like Christmas." He would say "Never had a good Christmas all my life, nor a good new year, and now... I am very bitter but fortunately not revengeful, though I feel should be how I am."

I think at that moment I will understand how real endings work. They're messy, no one dies completely satisfied, unsatisfied, happy, unhappy, but rather a mixture of feelings of all that has been. A war of mention, and that's when it will occur to me to ask him about his time of war and how much an artistic person such as himself couldn't wait to leave that place. But, then his answer would shock me

“Do you think I might be fool enough to run away from heaven if I get there?”

At that moment I would realize that there really isn't a way to ever understand a human. But, all I could is try to understand a part of a human, in his case, his art. Then I would lay down the 15,145 pages of his work that he chose to title "The Story of the Vivian Girls, in What is Known as the Realms of the Unreal, of the Glandeco-Angelinian War Storm Caused by the Child Slave Rebellion," And attempt to find answers to different questions.

Questions like why did he insert himself into the novel through a military man's character? What did the Vivian Girls stand for? What's with the long title? Why did he draw girls with either no sexual organs or penises?

After that, I would ask for an explanation about what critics and people who analyzed his work said about his work. I would ask whether he actually had a sexual identity and homosexuality issues. To which I will get no satisfying answers.

Not because art is subjective but because his art is simply not my business. Art, unguided, or more precisely, unfiltered, is the emotions you have in your personal time. And for someone who never sought to sell or publish his work, art is personal.

I would still seek answers and follow with questions about the over 10 thousand pages of Crazy House, or about how the 206 pages biography of History Of My Life turned into 4,672 pages about a twister called "Sweetie Pie". Or how come his faith was shaken by the fact that he lost a picture of someone he didn't even know.

Satisfying, But In The Long Term

That's how I believe my meeting would go with Henry Darger I walk him back to the hospital to complete his custodian duty knowing that he has an entire realm waiting for him to both discover and create. He would stop ever so often to pick newspapers with a picture he liked, or a piece of glasses, or a worn-out pencil for his home studio.

I would finally ask a question, one last question about how he feels now that his work has been seen, debated, and appreciated after his life ended.

"Too late now" he would respond.

I wouldn't even know if he was being sarcastic, angry, regretful, feeling sorrow, sadness, or happiness with my statement as I watch him go back to work. All I would know is that I was happy to have briefly come across this man, maybe I would even take a picture of him to add to the only three pictures that exist of him.

The End

I want to end this post with a simple request that you'd check out this man's work, maybe even read about him. I think it might be worth your time. His work might not impress you the most, but his work is simply himself with all his emotional journey and complications.

Thank you for reading.