Graphic Journey Blog

Sleeping with Dirk

Being divorced means that you can end up sleeping alone.       Not me though, I have Dirk…

 

He’s been by my side for the last month. This hefty 532 tomb of  collected letters is a fascinating insight into the man behind a carefully guarded persona. Dirk Bogarde started his film career as a Rank contract artist in the 1950s. He made some pretty dreadful films throughout that time, always being cast as the heart throb.  It wasn’t until the 60s that he started to surface as serious actor. In 1961, against the advise of close friends he took on a role as a homosexual in the film ‘Victim’. 

This was to be a turning point for him and the whole issue of homosexuality. At that time the practice was still illegal and a prison sentence was often the norm, as well as professional ruin. So many were targets for blackmailers. This was at the core of ‘Victim’ - A wealthy, successful  and seemingly happily married barrister is having a clandestine affair with another man ­- Bogarde was a closet gay himself and throughout his life never openly 'came out'. Because of this his performance in 'Victim' had an added dimension, making it remarkably powerful.

This lead onto a fruitful and highly creative body of work with Joseph Losey among them, The Servant 1963. Accident 1963. King and Country 1964.

Bogarde moved to France in the 70’s being disillusioned by  British cinema.

He became extremely selective in the roles he accepted and insisted that his name must always be above the title. There followed a run of acclaimed films; Death in Venice 1970...

The Night Porter 1973, Providence 1973, Despair 1973. At the same time he took up writing. Starting with autobiography, ‘A Postilion Struck by Lightning, 1977. He found great success in this endeavor and alternated between autobiography and fiction. In all he produced 11 books. For me 'An Orderly Man', 1983 is a wonderfully elegantly written book and was the forerunner to the likes of Peter Mayle’s ‘ A Year in Provence’ 1989. 

Above Bogarde at work at his home in France in the 80s.

Films became few and far between. His last and to my mind most poignant film was ‘Daddy Nostalgia’ (These Foolish Things), 1990 directed by Bertrand Tavernier. In which he played his age, and a lot of his own feeling about life and death came through the performance, with much of the dialog written by Bogarde. If you have never seen him or read his books, do give them a go. Well worth the effort. Next week I’ll be sleeping with… 

Juliette Binoche. Can’t wait.

 

Sam Serif # 7

Second-hand stories

Second hand bookshops and charity shops can be a joy sometimes, especially when you unearth things like this…

They become stories within themselves...

I wonder where John Michael Firth is now? Is he still with us ? Was he proud to have received this book from  head master Mr. J Thope? Did young John eventally marry and have children, experience the horrors of the war, make lots of money or write a beautiful poem? Who knows. But I have the book that he touched all those years ago. One day it will leave my possession and  story will move on to intrigue someone else. Here are some more pages...

Personal journal: Tree of life

Back in 2004 I, along with an assorted array of designers, was asked by the magazine, Garden Design Journal to describe our notion of a garden. I showed this… 

This is my daughter with a 200-year-old sweet chestnut tree in our garden.

I wrote this for the magazine…

 My work is about communicating ideas and information. A large part of which ends up on printed paper, and as everyone knows paper is made from trees. When I visited what was now my house, the first thing I noticed, after the house itself, was the tree. A sweet chestnut; its branches reaching high into the sky. I fell in love with it. Six years on and both the house and tree are mine. But I know really that I belong to the tree, which has presided over this place for over 200 years.

If a tree can make a garden, then I have the perfect garden. With it comes a magnificent 365 day-a-year display. In winter I marvel at its extraordinary twisted trunk. It is always last to fully leaf in summer, its branches laden with lush foliage acting as a welcome shade from the midday sun. My children swing from a sturdy branch; run around its wide girth, or sit against its gnarled truck singing songs. The autumn winds sing through the auburn leaves. And a harvest of sweet chestnuts fall to the ground and are collected – later to end up accompanying the Christmas turkey.

 The tree has witnessed many events and families in its long life: horse-drawn carriages dropping off guests for a candle-lit supper; a Daimler hearse transporting a past owner to their final resting place; the arrival of the army in1937, which seconded the house and garden for the duration of the war. Everything has changed around the tree, but it remains proud and erect giving shelter to owls, squirrels and deer. It stands quietly as life and time pass by. My life is inextricably linked with the tree, in more ways than one. Every garden needs a tree.

Postscript: Little did I know that just two years after writing the above  I would be leaving that tree forever. A bitter divorce and the tree witnessed me driving away for the last time. And do you known, I miss that gentle billowing mass of emerald green more than the sixteen years I spent at the house. In the end, it’s always people that let you down. Trees just give pleasure.

 So I now have a new tree. This one… 

An oak. It’s not really mine of course. I’ve adopted it over the past two years. I pass it regularly on my journey to Dorset. It has become very special. It stands majestically at the top of a  field. For me, it is a marker for the seasons and time passing. It will soon change its clothing to a golden cloak. Later that will be shed leaving a stark skeleton, silhouetted against the chill winter sky. It will quietly sleep until awakened by the warmth of the late March sun. Fresh buds will appear and the cycle of life will start over again. I will post pictures of its progress over the coming year for you all to see.

 

Little Italy take 2

You may have noticed I’m on a bit of an Italian thing at the moment and these little treasures…

 

Baci's are quite delicious. But I have to say when unwrapped ... 

they struck a cord in me…

 Bralessimo! Sorry just I couldn’t resist that.

Little Italy

This is a lovely little thing…

 

 

Open it to reveal…

 

Amaretti…

The perfect treat to have with a double espresso.

 

And when the deliciousness is finished you are left with this delightful wrapper…

 

delicate and beautiful.

 If you are really feeling adventurous, roll the wrapper long ways into a tube. Stand it on its end and light the top edge with a match.  It will burn down to the halfway point and then leap up into the air, as if by magic, or propelled by a rocket booster. WARNING: do not carry out the above if you are under 18, or in a confined space,  anywhere near gas cylinders,  boxes of unused fireworks. In a room filled with pure oxygen or if you are wearing flammable clothing (apparently they’re coming back into fashion) And do keep well away from wedding dresses or synthetic lime green leotards and of course people of a nervous disposition.  I take no responsibility what so ever for anyone entering into a Jeremy Clarkson type prank.

 

Jack Larkin: The lost designer?

Before working in publishing in 1968, I took on a lot of freelance book jacket design work—which, coincidentally, is something I've been doing again since going solo. At the time, there was one designer whose work I greatly admired. His name was Jack Larkin, and here are some of his book covers from the mid-60s. This is the most recent one I found tucked away in a dusty secondhand bookshop.

1965

1967

     

 

 

  

I loved that his covers were instantly recognisable—with their recurring typefaces, colours, and immediate-looking stylised illustrations. They all made up his very personal style. I was so enamoured by his work that I tried to emulate him. Here is an example of one of my covers from 1966.

 

See what I mean? A bit embarrassing. I recall the advice that Laurence Olivier gave aspiring young actors, who would ask him, 'How can I become a great actor like you?.' He would reply, ' Steal, dear boy, and make it your own'. Well, I was doing that and am not ashamed to admit it. I would love to know where Jack Larkin is or if he is still with us. I believe he went back to live in Australia in the late 60s. If anyone reading this knows anything about him, I would like to hear from you. A note on the above book jackets. They were once firmly attached to their respective bound covers, all sitting attentively on the shelves of my local library. That is until an obsessive book jacket collector liberated them into a world of design history.

 

Looking back 40 years to those events, I figure they got the better deal. Had they stayed in situ, they would be long gone instead of cared for in a nice roomy plan chest.

 

PostScript.

Jack Larkin returned to Australia in the 1970s, becoming head of the Graphic Design department at Monash University in Melbourne. He held this post until the 1980s. He retired and spent the autumn of his years in his native Australia, close to his family. He died in 2012. He was an exceptional designer.

 

There is a Creative Review post on Jack Larkin's time as Art Director of Good Housekeeping here.

 

 

University challenge

I knew I'd find a use for it...

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Okay movie buffs your starter for ten?

Delete

These funny little things looked rather lovely when I noticed them on my desk this morning...

When was the last time you used one?

Ava

On this Monday morning something beautiful...

Ava Gardner. Why? Well, she is quite stunning and I like her. But, really, she's here for my good friend Malcolm Garrett who is quite dotty about her. Ava is not only his favourite actress but his favourite film is this...

which stared Ava along side the wonderful James Mason  - 'Pandora and the Flying Dutchman' is about a woman unable to love and a man unable to die—a baroque synthesis of classical myth and Germanic legend set in Spain around 1930—met with mixed reviews. Few critics could deny its visual splendour (glorious Technicolor photography by Jack Cardiff of the Costa Brava). In fact the location was Tossa de Mar in Spain, my very first package holiday trip way back in the early 60's. Here is more of the lovley Ava to see while having your morning coffee...