An artist as eccentric as his work.
Edward Gorey’s Enigmatic World
By Joan Acocella
Gorey had next to no art education. And, thanks to the Second World War, his college career was suspended soon after it began. He was drafted, and, from 1944 to 1946, found himself in Utah, as a clerk in an Army base set up to test chemical weapons. He later claimed that twelve thousand sheep mysteriously died there. Once the war ended, he went to Harvard, on the G.I. Bill. There he roomed for two years with the larky young poet Frank O’Hara, in a suite where, according to historians of the postwar arts in America, the two of them sat around on chaise longues, drinking cocktails and listening to Marlene Dietrich records. But they eventually drifted off into separate crowds, Gorey’s less wild. He stayed at Harvard for the regulation four years, majoring in French and ping-ponging between dean’s list and academic probation.
https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2...nigmatic-world
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I really (and I mean really) like his medium and technique. The darker the premise the better, like this one...
