Emily Dickinson - Fragments From The Dreambook

Emily Dickinson---Sleeping With God
Watercolor










Emily Dickinson---My Letter to the World
Watercolor










Emily Dickinson--- Emily on Fire
Watercolor

For more on John's journey with Emily in Egypt go to:

Egyptian Travelogue: Week 3
Egyptian Travelogue: Week 4

MARY TODD LINCOLN

Excerpts from the soon to be published Mathew Brady’s Dream Book. http://ransomingbrady-dream book.com

Mathew Brady invades the dreams of famous Americans he has photographed





Mathew Brady: Mrs. Lincoln, the president’s wife, used to visit my studio frequently. Ordering me around, she would search out the best lighting to enhance her importance. She was a vigorous custodian of her public image and censored what she deemed not worthy of who she believed herself to be.

She loved clothes and seemed to subscribe to the maxim that such matters were not disguises but revelations of true character.












mary lincoln's tear bed 70x90 oil 09


Mary Todd Lincoln:
Excerpt at the end of their joint dream.

I visit photographers, no not Mr. Brady who is interested in the surfaces of existence, but those who can access other dimensions. My senses hunger for connection, new circumferences, and Mr. Mumler of Boston provides me with new opportunities. In my visits there, I have to climb stairs to encounter my own self-image of woman-ness, fertile as the moon, giving life to males.

And when I reach the top of the stairs, I encounter a familiar smell, dusty and pungent which seems to be waiting for me. It pervades my sittings with Mr. Mumler and when I leave I take with me an image of an old lady in black, strong in her past fecundity, with two gentle hands on her shoulders, loving and peaceful. There are others, but this is my favorite and I leave the studio at 170 West Springfield Street, and I leave Boston and eventually I leave even America.

But before my departure, I push Mr. Brady out of my dream and he awakens full of fear and consternation.

I get out of my mother’s bed quietly but with some dispatch and move to the corner of my bedroom, where the moon’s light is blocked. I have never seen spirits, but I have seen other people’s dreams. In the old-wet collodion days, I recall taking a positive print from a negative and being surprised to encounter a ghostly figure floating above the sitter.

This spirit-like image was also evident, but less so, in the negative. I sense that what we have here is double exposure, an incompletely cleaned surface of the plate then transferred to the negative and in turn to the positive print. President Lincoln’s spirit is a chemical action registered between the image and the glass itself.

So I get back in bed happy I have explained the phenomenon, but then I see at the foot of my mother’s bed the President himself, gaunt, regal, and disheveled. But I am awake- this is no dream- so I study this specter and he makes no move to leave my darkened bedroom. Then he is joined by three small boys who look disappointed when they look where their father is looking. Had they expected their mother, whose presence I left long ago when I left her dream? Or are they confusing my energy with hers since I had invaded (not exactly with invitation) her nightmare? The wallpaper in my bedroom begins to wilt, and a strange unearthly smell descends into my bedroom. A window opens in the corner and all four Lincolns exit.

Mathew Brady’s Dream Book

Mathew Brady’s Dream Book is a soon to be published compilation of dreams by the renowned 19th century photographer, Mathew Brady. But rather than dreaming his own dreams, Brady enters, observes and records those of his contemporaries (e.g. Herman Melville, Mother Ann Lee, Sitting Bull, Mary Todd Lincoln, John Brown, PT Barnum, Walt Whitman, amongst others.)

Although the book uses historical characters, it is mainly a fictional work.

The anecdotal dreams weave together accurate historical detail with artistic insight to provide an uncanny perspective on our own present-day world.

The Dream Book attests to the historical figure, makes him even more vivid, more accessible, a living character in an elaborate fiction.

Peter Frank on Mathew Brady & John Phillips

In his latest series of paintings and drawings John Ransom Phillips trains his psychologically keen and historically informed eye on a figure at once central and peripheral to American art, the photographer Matthew Brady.

Reflecting on Brady’s notable but in some regard overrated role in the photographic documentation of the Civil War, as well as his prominence before and after as a New York-based portrait photographer whose clientele was top-heavy in the rich and famous, Phillips teases out the pathos, and the bathos, underlying Brady’s artistic achievement and social persona.

As well, Phillips casts Brady against the figure of Walt Whitman, contrasting the poet’s bold aesthetic and personal gesture against the photographer’s more conventional social role – a role that, nonetheless, Brady’s artistic achievement transcended.

Phillips proffers this dialectic as a quintessentially American problem in art: the bold or the safe? The challenging or the acceptable? Thoreau or Emerson? Ives or MacDowell? Ginsberg or Warhol

Peter Frank is the Art Critic and Senior Curator for Riverside Art Museum.
Walt Whitman Holding Mathew Brady, 2005, oil, 62 x 46"

Brady of Broadway

I was Brady of Broadway or, as everyone used to say, “the photographer of decision–makers.” (Today you would call them “players.”) I had a studio in lower Manhattan (and later in Washington City) centrally located. A special entrance for my clients to be photographed brought them to a spacious, light filled space (the skylight was tinted blue) and this assured the sitter of a more noble countenance. Creating a trend, I stripped the space of foolish and unnecessary details, only depending on a few classical references suggesting our young republic.

And the chair – oh, don’t forget the chair: A splendid Victorian seat in walnut with elegant curved lines and graceful proportions. They all sat in this chair, Lincoln, Grant, Walt Whitman, all players. I connected all these illustrious Americans together with this chair, which thankfully remains silent.

In the 1840’s, I hit on the idea of creating a photo catalogue of only the most distinguished Americans. I was not documenting, history but creating, shaping our national identity. Quickly, I became the master of the celebrity machine.

Some commentators have compared me with Andy Warhol. I am uncomfortable with this: yes, we both created factories for the making of art; we both assured the sitter of importance (fame?) through identification with the photographer; and, yes, both of us were uncomfortable with human feeling, nuance, and self-expression, resulting in the same work of art repeated over and over. And certainly we were both uncomfortable with unpleasantness.

Andy took the most horrific images of his age (the atomic bomb, prison executions, traffic accidents) and, by repeating them, removed their power to provoke any emotional reaction. He trivialized them. I admire that.

When I did go to photograph war, I purposely arrived late so the battlefield was free of bodies. General Reynolds was shot in a wheat field called McPherson Woods in 1863. I waited until the landscape had been returned to nature, clean and pristine with no hint of human altercation. I focused then on the quiet of the place, the sense of landscape, and placed myself in the foreground so that you knew I was here and that my perception was your perception.

But a comparison with Andy? No, I never needed a wig. My hair was always full and luxuriant (I was good-looking and earnest in expression). I did not attract a following of strange people, but only respectful employees (up to twenty-five, I think). They arranged the composition, posed the sitter, adjusted the lighting. Then at my direction my assistants inserted into the camera the sensitized glass plates on which the negative would be exposed.

What resulted was art itself – an act of theater, if you will. An invitation for spectators to create a reality that would fit their need of what a work of photographic art should look like. I collected images much as a merchant galvanizes his inventory, and I like to think, I poeticized peoples’ collective thoughts. I managed their reality and made life more real than real, (what reality really is). My badge was a straw hat and linen duster.
















Photography as Performance (5 moveable panels), 2006, oil on canvas, 70 ◊ 94 inches overall

Phillips Off to Egypt

Phillips and Companions Off to Egypt.

“i am going to egypt with mark twain and edgar poe, invading their dreams and exploring their half hidden perspectives from places not my own.

This journey will explore some of the spiritual mysteries surrounding Tutankhamun..

See Book of the Dead

Brady To Go To Harvard?

In Early February Mr. Eric Weinberger wrote:

Dear Mr. Phillips:

Thank you for the letter and for the handsome book that arrived in our office today. We are just not sure what you are asking for. Is it Matthew Brady whom you “would love to get [him] into Harvard,” and what exactly do you mean by that?

Sincerely,
Eric Weinberger
Office of the President
Harvard University
+++++++++++++++++++++
Mr Phillips Answered:

Dear Mr. Weinberger,

I did not intend to be cryptic when I wrote Ms. Faust that I hoped Mathew Brady could get into Harvard. Periodically, Brady would muse over how lovely it could have been had he attended your university.
Since he died in 1896, this clearly will not be possible, but then I got the idea of offering Harvard one of the paintings of Brady illustrated in our new book which I sent you.

It is not the same thing as his attendance, but hopefully a good idea. Let me know what president Faust thinks.

Sincerely,
John Phillips
+++++++++++++++++++++
Dear Mr. Phillips:

. . . Thanks for the clarification –

Sincerely,
Eric Weinberger