Impressionism, Cubism, Dwarfism
If there's one thing that great Art and Literature has taught me it's that "Dwarf Fascination" is perfectly normal. Why is this? Well, because not only do you and your friends love 'em, but down through the ages some of our highest-regarded artists and writers have also had these other-statured people on the brain.
Take the 15th-century Spanish painter Diego Velazquez, whose work hangs in some of the world's most prestigious museums. As the court painter for Spain's King Philip, it was his responsibility to do portraitures of the Spanish nobility. He was so well-regarded, in fact, that he was also sent to immortalize Italy's royalty, as well as a Pope or two.
In his off hours, though, this artist-to-the-stars had a hobby. He liked to retreat from the company of the blue-bloods and mingle with, and paint, the court jesters. You see, these funny little people were Velazquez' real passion. And, because of this, he has made some of them immortal:
Another example of high-art meeting these, the lowest of people, is the Swedish writer Par Lagerkvist, who won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1951. One of Lagerkvist's most critically-acclaimed novels, in fact the one that put him on the map, is called simply The Dwarf. It is the tale of an evil court jester who lurks in the shadows of his Prince's castle, planning the demise of everyone around him. Here is an excerpt:
Let's see, I remember rolling out of bed sometime after midnight and turning on Showtime. Then crouching there in the darkness of our converted garage, trying not only to decipher this strange movie, but listening for the sound of my mother coming out to tell me to get the hell into bed. And I remember that strange moon-faced kid banging the drum. And him looking over as the lady undresses, and where his eyes focus, and what he sees, and what's... next. The drum, it's all I remember, please please, I just remember the drum!
See, it's no wonder I'm into strange things. I was eleven, for Chrissakes. Who watches that kind of thing at eleven! Anyway, it's like I said, don't be embarrassed. This fascination you have with all these strange and disturbing things is perfectly normal. In fact, it just might mean you're special.
Take the 15th-century Spanish painter Diego Velazquez, whose work hangs in some of the world's most prestigious museums. As the court painter for Spain's King Philip, it was his responsibility to do portraitures of the Spanish nobility. He was so well-regarded, in fact, that he was also sent to immortalize Italy's royalty, as well as a Pope or two.
In his off hours, though, this artist-to-the-stars had a hobby. He liked to retreat from the company of the blue-bloods and mingle with, and paint, the court jesters. You see, these funny little people were Velazquez' real passion. And, because of this, he has made some of them immortal:
Don Diego de Acedo
Francisco Lezcano
Don Sebastian de Morra
Another example of high-art meeting these, the lowest of people, is the Swedish writer Par Lagerkvist, who won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1951. One of Lagerkvist's most critically-acclaimed novels, in fact the one that put him on the map, is called simply The Dwarf. It is the tale of an evil court jester who lurks in the shadows of his Prince's castle, planning the demise of everyone around him. Here is an excerpt:
----------------------------------------------------------------Still one more example is the author Gunther Grass who also won the Nobel Prize for Literature, in 1999. His most famous and widely-regarded novel is The Tin Drum. It is the tale of a child who decides he will never grow up because the adult world is so screwed. Although I haven't read the book I have seen the movie and, let me tell you, it is quite disturbing. Well, at least it was to a kid all of eleven years old...
I am twenty-six inches tall, shapely and well proportioned, my head perhaps a trifle too large. My hair is not black like the others', but reddish, very stiff and thick, drawn back from the temples and the broad but not especially lofty brow. My face is beardless, but otherwise just like that of other men. My eyebrows meet. My bodily strength is considerable, particularly if I am annoyed. When the wrestling match was arranged between Jehoshaphat and myself I forced him onto his back after twenty minutes and strangled him. Since then I have been the only dwarf at this court.
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Let's see, I remember rolling out of bed sometime after midnight and turning on Showtime. Then crouching there in the darkness of our converted garage, trying not only to decipher this strange movie, but listening for the sound of my mother coming out to tell me to get the hell into bed. And I remember that strange moon-faced kid banging the drum. And him looking over as the lady undresses, and where his eyes focus, and what he sees, and what's... next. The drum, it's all I remember, please please, I just remember the drum!
See, it's no wonder I'm into strange things. I was eleven, for Chrissakes. Who watches that kind of thing at eleven! Anyway, it's like I said, don't be embarrassed. This fascination you have with all these strange and disturbing things is perfectly normal. In fact, it just might mean you're special.
posted by Ryan A at 12:20 AM
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