A journal by artist and designer John Coulthart.
Yet more illustrations from John Dickson Batten, the pages this time being from Celtic Fairy Tales (1892), and More Celtic Fairy Tales (1895). Once again, both books were written by Batten’s regular collaborator Joseph Jacobs. As is often the case where less familiar stories are concerned, they yield some striking imagery.
More from illustrator John Dickson Batten with pages from two further collaborations with writer Joseph Jacobs, English Fairy Tales (1890), and More English Fairy Tales (1894). The latter (on the lighter paper below) are much better than the earlier set. The second book also includes The Hobyahs, a surprisingly violent story about a gang of mischievous creatures that the artist illustrates in an almost comic-book style. There’ll be more Batten tomorrow.
The book illustrations of John Dickson Batten (1860–1932) turn up in collections of Victorian and Edwardian art but his name isn’t as familiar as that of his contemporaries, possibly because he was also pursuing a career as a painter. Prior to finding this volume I’d only seen a couple of his drawings before.
The Book of Wonder Voyages (1919) was one of several collaborations with writer Joseph Jacobs, a retelling of mythic seafaring which includes Jason and the Argonauts but surprisingly omits other well-known examples such as Odysseus and Sinbad. In their stead we have The Voyage of Maelduin, Hasan of Bassorah, and The Journeyings of Thorkill and Eric the Far-Travelled. Batten’s drawings remind me of Patten Wilson, especially in the full pages, although Wilson was the more dedicated stylist. This isn’t necessarily the best of Batten’s work, however. Browse the rest of the book here or download it here. There’ll be more Batten tomorrow.
Continuing the Cocteau theme, this fascinating film remains (for the time being) unavailable in a better copy despite its artistic all-star cast. 8 x 8: A Chess Sonata in 8 Movements (1957) can be regarded as a follow-up to Hans Richter’s Surrealist anthology Dreams That Money Can Buy (1947), the directorial credit this time being shared between Richter, Jean Cocteau and Marcel Duchamp. The latter famously quit the art world to devote more time to chess-playing so his involvement with a chess-based fantasy (self-described as “a fairytale for grownups”) isn’t so surprising:
It explores the realm behind the magic mirror which served Lewis Carroll 100 years ago to stimulate our imagination.
The cast comprises famous friends including Cocteau himself, Max Ernst, Dorothea Tanning, Paul Bowles, Fernand Leger, Alexander Calder, Duchamp, and, in the Venetian episode, Peggy Guggenheim in her favourite sunglasses. In places it’s closer to Kenneth Anger’s Inauguration of the Pleasure Dome (1954) than Dreams That Money Can Buy, especially since Anger’s film was another assemblage of unique personalities. One detail I’ve not seen remarked upon elsewhere is the presence behind the camera of Louis & Bebe Barron who assisted with the sound. The Barrons are better known today for their still astonishing all-electronic score for Forbidden Planet (1956). Watch 8 x 8 at Ubuweb or YouTube.
Previously on { feuilleton }
• Dreams That Money Can Buy
Clive’s posts last week about Cocteau’s La Belle et la Bête (here, here and here) sent me back to the film, a most welcome re-viewing. This in turn had me searching for copies of the posters of which these are some of the better examples. No dates or credits, unfortunately, although the French ones above and below look as though they may have been drawn by the film’s production designer, Christian Bérard. (Update: not Bérard, they’re the work of poster artist Jean-Denis Malclès.)
The style of Bérard’s drawings, and much of the film itself, had me thinking this time round of Hein Heckroth, Michael Powell’s favourite production designer whose sketches also had a painterly style. Powell and Pressburger’s The Red Shoes (with designs by Heckroth) appeared a couple of years after La Belle et la Bête although Powell doesn’t mention Cocteau at all in his autobiography so there’s no need to go looking for influences. Both films are based on fairy tales, of course. Powell shared Cocteau’s taste for fantasy and cinematic magic although the closest he gets to the story of Beauty and the Beast is Peeping Tom (1960), a film that contains little of either. By coincidence, Powell scholar Ian Christie calls Peeping Tom the director’s equivalent of Cocteau’s Le testament d’Orphée which was also released in 1960. But that’s a speculation for another day.
Previously on { feuilleton }
• The writhing on the wall
• Le livre blanc by Jean Cocteau
• Cocteau’s sword
• Cristalophonics: searching for the Cocteau sound
• Cocteau at the Louvre des Antiquaires
• La Villa Santo Sospir by Jean Cocteau