80 Best Edward Gorey's CATS images | Edward gorey, Cats, Cat artIN his prime, Edward Gorey had made himself a perfect fusion of art and life. The artist and author of more than meticulously hand-lettered, intricately rendered little books had to all intents and purposes become one of his own drawings. He was hard to miss: tall, slender, long of beard, frequently clad in a full-length fur coat and sneakers. He wore a tasteful gold stud in each ear, and what seemed to be dozens of rings on his long, thin hands. His usually bemused expression might have been the result of the partial deafness that left him oblivious of the little squeals of his surrounding admirers. How Gorey became Gorey is the heart of the 21 interviews with assorted writers and critics, dated from to , the year before his death, collected in ''Ascending Peculiarity: Edward Gorey on Edward Gorey,'' edited by Karen Wilkin, an art critic who also contributes a useful introduction. The occasional art class at the Art Institute of Chicago, followed by a stint in the Army as a company clerk, stationed at Dugway Proving Ground, the military test site in Utah ''And every time I pick up a paper and see, you know, that 12, more sheep died mysteriously out in Utah, I think, 'Oh, they're at it again' ''.
Cats - Goreytelling Ep. 003 - Topic
The mysterious, macabre mind of Edward Gorey
My childhood discovery of Edward Gorey proved revelatory. I recognized my own bewilderment in the blank expressions of his obsessively-rendered Edwardian children. His characters, imprisoned in starched collars and stays, stared at the world through hollow eyes, struck dumb by alternating currents of absurdity and horror. He gave his readers permission to be odd and haunted, and to laugh about it, but he never seemed to have needed such permission himself. But the man himself remained shrouded, and that was just as well.
Edward Gorey, continued
Eliot , a documented cat-lover , who penned these whimsical verses about feline psychology and social order in a series of letters to his godchildren in the s. Some time ago, I had the good fortune of tracking down an original edition of this tiny treasure, signed by Gorey himself — please enjoy:. There are fancier names if you think they sound sweeter, Some for the gentlemen, some for the dames: Such as Plato, Admetus, Electra, Demeter — But all of them sensible everyday names. Of names of this kind, I can give you a quorum, Such as Munkustrap, Quaxo, or Coricopat, Such as Bombalurina, or else Jellylorum — Names that never belong to more than one cat. When you notice a cat in profound meditation, The reason, I tell you, is always the same: His mind is engaged in a rapt contemplation Of the thought, of the thought, of the thought of his name: His ineffable effable Effanineffable Deep and inscrutable singular Name.
Edward St. John Gorey was born in Chicago. His father was briefly a journalist. Gorey's maternal great-grandmother, Helen St. John Garvey, was a popular nineteenth-century greeting card writer and artist, from whom he claimed to have inherited his talents.
Letters T. The poems were in good hands. Like Eliot, Gorey enjoyed their company. Neumeyer , the artist writes:. In looking for something or other I came across the fact that one of my cats is about to be nine years old, and that another of them will shortly thereafter be eight; I have been labouring under the delusion they were about five and six. And yesterday I happened to notice in the mirror that while I have long since grown used to my beard being very grey indeed, I was not prepared to discover that my eyebrows are becoming noticeably shaggy. I feel the tomb is just around the corner.