A tale of Edward Gorey…

As Google proclaimeth… 

Today is Edward Gorey’s 88^th birthday. Or at least it would have been if he hadn’t of up and died in the year 2000. For those of you who haven’t heard of him he is an American illustrator who, as his name might coincidentally reflect, was interested in the darker side of things. Yes, his work is interestingly surreal at times, but it isn’t just the imagery or the superb execution – it’s the unsettling terror of it all.

It’s all in there: Edward Lear, Lewis Carroll, The Tiger Lillies, Agatha Christie, Charles Dickens, Breugel, Eugène Ionesco, Vermeer, Balthus, an undefined sexuality, a craziness born of craziness, a man of mystery who shows us his all without showing us much at all.

Yes, it’s all bad. All rather good...

Imagine yourself a child so lost under the rug that you can’t find your way out - then imagine never finding your way out, ever, ever, ever, ev

And what if your dead father came and perched on your bed every night for seventeen years and rambled about your innermost fears? What would you do? Would you go crazy? Every night - over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and…

You glance in the driver’s mirror. Just how did that strange creature get onto the back seat of your car? It wasn’t there when you set off. What is it? Is it dangerous and where does it want you to take it? Wait… what if it’s taking you somewhere…

Ladies and gentlemen I give you Edward Gorey. He may be dead or he may not, who knows? Perhaps he lives on in the lines of his drawings and there are plenty more where these came from - take a look.

So without further ado…

Edward Gorey… God grant that he lies still.