I.D.E.A. Space launches ‘Seeing Stories’, Henry Darger’s fantasy world brought to Colorado Springs

In celebrating the recent opening of “Seeing Stories,” the newest art exhibit in Colorado College’s I.D.E.A. Space, the gallery sponsored a luncheon lecture in the Slocum commons this past Tuesday, February 2nd. Featured speaker Brooke Davis Anderson, a visiting professor from Columbia University and the Director and Curator of the Contemporary Center of the American Folk Art Museum, entertained the crowd with an enlightening discourse on the life and work of Henry Darger. 

Within the last four decades, this self-taught North American artist has completely reshaped the conception of American realism art; his works challenge viewers and critics to re-evaluate the juxtaposition of fantasy, literature and image, while also presenting a world of imagination and childhood, war and wonderment. Anderson has written and lectured extensively in the fields of folk art and African-American art, but tailored Tuesday’s conversation to the pieces that are now being featured in the Edith Kinney Gaylord Cornerstone Art Center. 

“I am so pleased that the college provides these cultural, intellectual opportunities,” commented Dr. Trajn Boughan, a Colorado Springs native. “Dr. T” came to campus to learn more about Darger’s vast collection of paintings, fictional writing and autobiographical work, and was excited for Professor Anderson to begin. Accompanied by some 40 plus slides to show the life and works of Darger, Anderson spoke to the crowd with a detailed historical background and a clear passion for her topic. Students, professors and members of the greater Colorado Springs community enjoyed a free lunch while learning about Darger. She delivered the artist’s story by first discussing what is known about his personal life, his profession and habits. Henry Darger was a typical “outside artist,” a term which is notorious for connoting the group of recluse, introverted “artists who don’t share their art, don’t have any family, and don’t have any cultural influences,” explained Anderson, who then launched into a brief account of Darger’s earlier years. 

In April of 1892, the artist was born into the American midwest, a place and culture that would prove to have a huge impact on Darger’s artistic approach. Before he turned five, Henry’s mother died and his sister was given up for adoption. His father struggled with the responsibilities of a single parent and chose to send his son away to a boy’s home after failing with his upbringing. The asylums during the early 20th century were infamous for having vicious living conditions—physical, sexual and emotional abuse was common, and Henry ran away when he was 16 to live with an aunt in Chicago after a few disagreeable years as an orphan. 

At age 19, Darger moved into a small boarding room and made the Windy City his home until he died in April of 1973. Although he made his living through a number of menial jobs, such as a janitor, dishwasher, and bandage roller for Catholic hospitals, he saved his real talent for his tiny apartment, which also functioned as his studio. By the time he was committed to a nursing home, a few months before his death, his room was full of half a century’s worth of accomplishments. He spent his days as a blue-collar worker, his meals at the same neighborhood diner, and his leisurely hours with only a handful of friends, but his world included so much more than this. 

By the time he reached his third decade, Darger had already started what would become over a 15,000 page manuscript: The Story of the Vivian Girls, in What is known as the Realms of the Unreal, of the Glandeco-Angelinnian War Storm, Caused by the Child Slave Rebellion. Unsurprisingly, this masterpiece has never been fully read in its entirety, although some art historians claim to have skimmed most of it. “The truth is, there is so much repetition that it can’t keep readers engaged,” Anderson reflected of the novel. 

Her faith in Darger’s success resides largely in his visual contributions to The Story of the Vivian Girls. It is believed that he wrote his entire manuscript before beginning to draw, but his art career can be followed in correlation with his understanding of art—his progression is not only obvious from his earlier to later works, but also immensely impressive. Anderson was quick to note that one of the most incredible aspects of his success as an artist was that “Darger wasn’t limited by his situation.” Unknown to him were the colorful possibilities of modern paints or the preserving nature of a clean canvas; his salary barely covered the essentials of daily living. “He used really bad acidic paper and the cheapest watercolors he could buy: five cent brushes and primary colors were his only tools. It was ‘Five and Dime’ all the way,” said Anderson.

The lack of quality materials did not seem to affect Darger. He even settled for scraps of recycled paper and pieces of cardboard and wallpaper as covers for his giant manuscript. Hand sewn in three other self-made books were 300 watercolors and collages. These images of his characters were sliced out of the binding when his neighbor and landlord discovered his collection, but are now pieced together to create large, complete paintings. His broad, surprisingly detailed murals depict his fantasy island where children are trapped in slavery and soldiers and “Blengigomeneans” (Blengins—a made-up species) fight. The enslaved children have familiar faces but curious appearances, and are often painted running naked and terrified of fantastical creatures with tails, horns and scales—the Blengins. Some considered that Darger was connecting his art to his own childhood, reflecting back to the state in which he was enslaved as an orphan, which might explain why the female-looking slaves have male genitals. An obvious response to these male gendered figures with girlish faces was to assume Darger was a pedophile. Anderson argues otherwise, however, and insists his work is very non-sexual: enslaved children fighting for their freedom are naked to show their vulnerability, not their sexual appeal. “Others critique the phallus as a way for the children to be empowered,” she also suggested. 

“My work in the past few years has tried to dismantle those stereotypes,” Anderson explained to the group, speaking of his negative reputation as an “outside artist.” She has helped to compile a master collection for the American Folk Art Museum in New York City, which was no small feat. “Everything was covered in soot from the coal stove in the apartment,” she continued, “but the museum has taken a very delicate approach to conservation: the team’s goal is to preserve the pieces in the state they are in now for future generations.” One project Anderson is particularly excited to see completed is the piecing together of the murals as they relate to the manuscript. Because the story is so long and the Vivian girls reappear in every image, it will be arduous, but she has hope from the bindings they managed to recover and writing on the paintings. This is another curious trademark of Darger’s collection: he always gives information about the pictures. Anderson spoke a little more energetically, “His entire universe is at our fingertips; we just need to piece them to the text. We have captions and directions, but art historians have a lot of work ahead of them.”

Not only did Darger connect his viewer to his subjects’ position in the image with compass directions, but also incorporated his own personal history into his fantasyland. This technique creates a strangely realistic appeal to the artist’s made up world: he copied memorable figures like Mandrake the Magician and many other cartoons, and modeled the natural world off of travel advertisements from the news. “Darger collected over 500 palm trees!” Anderson exclaimed of the artist’s favorite tree to paint with the Vivian girls. The Folk-art Museum collection has over 3,000 clippings, proof that he copied over 1,000 pages of a coloring book and traced the figures with carbon paper. His intentions were not to plagiarize, however, Darger created his own renditions. The soldiers and girls he found in the media or in children’s books were replicated but tweaked. This is partly because he takes the figures completely out of context: girls who were advertising a popular product are now depicted fleeing war; the violence is terrifying in some of the paintings. As Anderson thinks, “Darger is mirroring the violence he experienced as an American living in the beginning of the 20th century. He saw life of war through living through WWI and II,” which provides further evidence that Darger, indeed, was influenced by his culture and his own emotional realm. He included an introduction to new chapters in his novel that were personal and entertaining: “Dear reader, you are about to experience a great story,” he would begin, utilizing a popular device in literature that connects writer to audience. 

“The presence of fine art is everywhere in Darger’s world,” Anderson described as she flipped through her many slides. “This is the only archive on a self-taught artist that has been preserved so well,” she gleamed, continuing to note how Darger was “great at recycling images when it suited him.” It was commonly thought that Darger and his peers know nothing about art history, but there are hints that he mimicked classical poses, popular culture, and famous figures. He didn’t just obsess over figures, though; his murals are also revered for their intricate landscapes. Darger made visual leaps as he experimented with 3-D space. “Creating this exotic other world required him to look outside of the American Midwest world he was familiar with,” so Darger combined his visions of home with the pictures of the far away and the unreal. Most of his later works have a “lyrical sky” and a more believable use of space, but his characters range in height; some are “large scale uber figures contrasted against his smaller characters,” points out Anderson. 

Because the images are strange in many respects, they sold for very little. “They were taken out of book form and valued by a very small minority—Dargers were priced at $1,000 in the mid 70s, but the paintings rarely sold. You couldn’t even give away a Darger in that time; now, depending on what the work is, he can go for 6 figures,” Anderson told us with a hint of pride in her voice. She has dedicated much of her career developing the American Folk Art Museum collection, and it is clear that she cares deeply about Darger’s progression as a national artist. Now, Darger’s work is exhibited in the Museum of Modern Art, and Colorado College is privileged to showcase such a reputable number of pieces. “He has a gorgeous working of that medium,” said Anderson of his panoramic scrolls, which will be on display until March 27th in the I.D.E.A. Space. Interested fans should also watch “In the Realms of the Unreal,” available on Netflix.