"Artaud 1937 Apocalypse: Letters From Ireland by Antonin Artaud" Translated & Edited by Stephen Barber (DIAPHANES)

ISBN: 978-0358-0153-8

"Artaud 1937 Apocalypse: Letters From Ireland by Antonin Artaud" Translated and Edited by Stephen Barber (Diaphanes)

Through my parent's world, the face of Antonin Artaud was very much part of my landscape.   In my dad's studio or workspace, there were usually photos of Artaud taped to the wall.  His face was beyond handsome to me.  Almost beautiful, but with disturbing touches of his mental illness, he was the poster icon for those who were insane and highly creative.  If the punk world had Syd Vicious, and the 90s had Kurt Cobain, then Artaud was a figure of revolt, but in a solemn manner.   He was an actor, poet, theater fellow, but he did his uncompromising work, and maybe even impossible to follow through.  Still, Artaud's essays on the theater, peyote, cultural studies and his inner pain are something that speaks to those who are out of the world.  Perhaps even more important, those who wish to remove themselves from such a (so-called) sane world.

In a state of insane mania, Artaud went to Ireland in the year 1937.  Without money or a specific plan, he became the village idiot, with his cane, who he felt it belong once to Saint Patrick.   "Artaud 1937 Apocalypse" is a small book of his correspondence to 'friends' in France, that even to this day, is a frightening read.  The difference from hearing someone ranting on the street, and reading these letters, is Artaud's poetic vision.   A superb stylist, even when he's on the brink of total mental collapse. 

I can imagine being Andre Breton (some of the letters were sent to him) and be either amused or read with horror.  Still, what is painful to understand is the raw emotional state of Artaud's mind.  Stephen Barber did a remarkable translation, and his afterword is excellent as well.   Artaud believed in apocalypse scenes.   In truth, as he was put in a mental hospital in Paris, during the occupation and World War II, perhaps his visions were actual projections of things to come.   A remarkable little book.