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Thoughts on the Question: Why Darger?
By John M. MacGregor, PhD
The Outsider, Volume 2/Issue 2/Winter 1998

Why would an art historian choose to devote 10 years of his career to the work of a totally unknown artist, whose life as a dishwasher in Chicago was more than obscure, and whose work remained unexhibited, a secret world hidden in his room, until his death?

I am often asked why I decided to devote a good part of my life to the study of Henry Darger. What motivates an art historian, specializing in the study of art and psychiatry, in his choice of an artist for research? What attracts the viewing public to such an unusual artist? Why do museums and galleries suddenly begin to exhibit this unknown and difficult work?

To answer these far from simple questions, some of them very personal, I want to examine a little bit of the history of the area known as Art Brut, or outsider art. In 1922, Hans Prinzhorn, a German art historian and psychiatrist, published what has proven to be his major work, Bildnerei der Geisteskranken [published in English, Artistry of the Mentally Ill, Springer, New York, 1995], the single most important study in art ad psychiatry in this century. Prinzhorn intended to hollow this introductory work with a second major contribution, a detailed investigation of one psychotic artist, a schizophrenic patient named Hermann Mebes. But sadly, Prinzhorn died in 1933 at the age of 47, and his planned monograph on Mebes never appeared. In 1978, I finished work on what will probably prove to be my major contribution to the history of art and psychiatry, The Discovery of the Art of the Insane (Princeton University Press, 1989). In writing this historical reconstruction of the relationship between psychiatry and art, I found myself surprisingly impressed by Hans Prinzhorn, almost to the point of identifying with him. Once I had completed my book, the product of 10 years, I decided that my next project would be a detailed monograph on a single artist, in a sense carrying out Prinzhorn’s unfinished task. I wasn’t interested in Hermann Mebes, so I was faced with the serious problem of finding an artist sufficiently important, from an art historical and psychological standpoint, for me to devote many years of my life to investigating.

The year before Prinzhorn’s book appeared, in 1921, another psychiatrist with a serious involvement in art, Dr. Walter Morgenthaler, published his epoch-making monograph, Ein Geisteskranker als Kunstler [This classic monograph is available in Engilsh, under the title, Madness and Art: The Life and Work of Adolf Wolfli, University of Nebraska Press, Lincoln, 1992]. This was the first book devoted to the serious study of a single psychotic artist, Adolf Wolfli of Switzerland. Wolfli was and is, unquestionably, the greatest of all psychotic artists in this century.

I wanted an artist of no less significance for my research, indeed, for several years I worked on Wolfli myself. But, because of the extreme rarity of artistic genius among the insane, or even in the somewhat wider category of outsider artists, this isn’t always possible. True genius is no less rare in the context of psychopathology than it is in any other area of human experience. Then, on May 7, 1986, by sheer chance, I stumbled upon the secret life-work of Henry Darger (1892-1973), of Chicago, and the course of my life for the next 10 years was irrevocably set. I have just completed two books on Darger.

The subject of these remarks is simply: Why Darger? What are the essential factors motivating my choice of an outsider artist for extended research in the field art history, art and psychiatry, art and psychoanalysis?

As an art historian specializing in outsider art, I am concerned that the artist I choose to work on is untrained (not a professional artist), and yet is potentially capable of emerging as a major figure in the context of world art. Making a decision of this kind involves enormously complex factors, in which clinical considerations play no part. What is essential is that the artist conquers new realms of graphic expression (new subject matter), and he or she must do so in terms of a new and consistent formal language. This is a critical issue which very few psychiatrists would be in a position to evaluate objectively, since it demands a detailed knowledge of the whole history of Western art. It is no accident that the physicians who have contributed most to the study of psychotic art in this century have either had formal art historical training (Hans Prinzhorn, Ernst Kris), or they enjoyed ongoing contact with revolutionary artistic circles (Prinzhorn, Walter Morgenthaler, Gaston Ferdiere, and Leo Navratil).

On the other hand, it comes as a surprise to realize that the identification of significant artistic talent among outsiders is almost never the accomplishment of psychiatrists, art historians, museum directors, or art critics. It has almost invariably been achieved by artists—artist of immense reputation: Nolde, Klee, Ernst, and Dubuffet—because they alone are on the cutting edge of what is truly new and needed in the world of art. They alone are capable of recognizing and responding to new visual languages.

Among the artists in this century, it was the French painter Jean Dubuffet who played this role in regard to outsiders. His invention of the non-psychiatric term “Art Brut” ensured the eventual acceptance of this unique form of image, within the large context of Western art. It is therefore significant that Darger’s work now occupies a major position in the Collection de l’Art Brut in Lausanne. The terms “Art Brut” and “Outsider Art,” are exactly equivalent.

Darger’s life-work was discovered after his death in 1973. Concealed in his room in Chicago, Darger was an isolate, working in secret. A dishwasher by trade, he had no family, no friends. No one had ever seen his work. This unusual fact influenced my decision to work on him. The actual discovery of Darger’s secret realm was made by his landlord, Nathan Lerner, who happened to be a photographer, artist and educator of significant reputation in America. Lerner was one of the major figures in what was known as the Chicago Bauhaus. Had this not been the case, Darger’s life-work, abandoned in his room, would have been thrown out and lost. In order to obtain permission to work on Darger, it was necessary for me to win the trust of Lerner and his wife Kiyoko, both of whom were naturally very protective of their discovery.

The third factor influencing my decision to work on Darger, is the fact that his 12-foot-long, double-sided pictures accompany an enormous written text. The pictures are the illustrations of his history of another world, In The Realms of the Unreal, in 15 volumes, more than 15,000 typewritten pages. This is the longest work of imaginative prose ever written; and a work of pure obsession. In the absence of extensive writing, fantasy or delusion, it is extremely difficult to write with objective certainty about such complex and unusual visual work.

As a contrasting example, I am presently completing a study of the mechano-morphic drawings of Drank Travis, a Canadian schizophrenic artist of unusual importance. As there is very little writing connected with these extraordinary images, it is very possible that this piece of research will never see publication, since I fear it is far too speculative.

In Darger’s case, the writings presented me with a very different problem, since it has been absolutely impossible to read all of them. The process will require the rest of my life. But, such a superabundance of material is essential, in my opinion, since my definition of outsider art requires that the artist create a vast, encyclopedically rich, and detailed alternate world—not as art—but as a place to live in over the course of a lifetime.

The invention of such an alternative world implies a considerable rejection of reality. When carried to an extreme, it is reflective of a massively abnormal, though not necessarily pathological, state of consciousness. I invariably look for evidence, in the life, in the behavior, in the writings, and in graphic images, of such an unusual and consistent mental state in any artists I work on.

Darger’s written texts, which also include an eight volume autobiography, The History of My Life, provide the most extensive body of secret fantasy material ever accumulated by one man. It is far more vast than the verbatim record of a 10-year psychoanalysis. This abundant material is reflective, if looked at from a psychiatric standpoint, of considerable psychopathology. Darger was committed at the age of 12 to the Lincoln Asylum for Feebleminded Children in Lincoln, Illinois. His nickname, well before this time, was “Crazy.” He was certainly not feebleminded, but, in turn-of-the-century America, such institutions served as repositories for all forms of psychiatric disturbance in children. Reconstructing the scandalous, truly horrifying conditions which characterized the Lincoln Asylum at the time Darger was an inmate, provided me with a marvelous exercise in the history of American psychiatry. I was fortunate in being able to locate the surviving records concerning Darger’s admission, and his five-year residence in this huge institution.

Darger’s diagnosis in 1904 was a simple one, “masturbation.” Nevertheless, it is possible to demonstrate clear connections between his adolescence in what he always called “the Asylum,” and many details of his later fantasy life. Had he not escaped in 1909, it is doubtful he would ever have been released. There are no indications of any further hospitalizations. Interestingly, Darger worked in hospitals all his life. We have no reason to believe he had any further contact with the mental health profession.

Obviously, this vast accumulation of fantasy material, characterized by amazingly fluid associations, the product of more than 60 years, provides numerous points of access for the clinician interested in diagnosis. Having presented Darger’s case to many groups of psychiatrists and psychoanalysts, I have become acutely aware of just how resistant it is to simplistic assessment. [Among the various diagnoses proposed for Darger: schizophrenia with onset in childhood, childhood autism, Asperger’s syndrome as seen in later years, multiple personality disorder, Tourette’s syndrome, or other forms of neurological disorder which include compulsive writing.] Interviews with the various individuals who knew Darger on a casual level convey an impression of a schizoid childman, avoiding contact, and speaking only of the weather. Some people found him frightening. Others continued to see him as retarded. No one glimpsed the unimagined complexity within. Needless to say, it is precisely this psychological complexity which makes Darger endlessly fascinating to me! The mind I encounter, with deep humility, in the writings is truly astonishing; an encyclopedic intellect of immense power and range, delighting in preposterous detail, endlessly inventive, and explosively creative. Of course, the writing is influenced by Darger’s lack of formal education, and his tendency to obsessional ideation. It is characterized by profound internal divisions of a defensive nature. The 15 volumes of In The Realms of the Unreal, while truly Brut in form, are both deeply intriguing and disturbing. The writings are at least as original as the pictures; the work of a naïve literary genius.

The heroes of Darger’s history are seven little girls: The Vivian Sisters. One of the great mysteries presented by these children is the fact that they, and all the other little girls in The Realms, possess male genitals, carefully depicted, though only when their legs are apart. This puzzling fact raises interesting questions about Darger’s sexuality, as well as his hold on reality. This complex puzzle was one of the principle mysteries that attracted me to Darger.

Like the English write, Lewis Carroll, Darger was obsessed by the innocent beauty of female children and, like Carroll, he never speaks of matters sexual (at least not in his own voice). Darger longed to have a little girl of his own, but the only way he could conceive of doing so was through adoption. The central fact of Darger’s life was the loss of his mother before he turned four. She died in childbirth. The little girl to whom she gave birth was given up for adoption. As Darger put it, “I lost my sister by adoption, I never knew or seen her, or knew her name.”

In July 1912, Darger lost a photograph. It was a newspaper picture of a little girl named Elsie Paroubek, who had been abducted and strangled in Chicago. The murderer was never found. The loss of the photograph, and the failure of God to return it, became the cause of the vast child-slave war that is the central fact of In The Realms of the Unreal.

At times, Darger’s world is overwhelmed with violence, with evil adult males (the Glandelinians), directing their sadistic lust at innocent little girls. Darger’s projected rage and desire is limitless. The result for the children: recurrent blood-baths, orgies of strangulation, dismemberment, crucifixion, and most commonly, disembowelment. The following text is a brief extract from one of many such descriptions:

The massacre continued for still another day. Children were dispatched in the most horrible manner. Their intestines were cut out, the Glandelinians even pelting their victims with them. Children were commanded to eat the hearts of the dead children, and those who refused were tortured beyond describing. The children were fairly bathed in blood.

Scores upon scores of poor children, were cut to pieces, after being strangled to death, and even their organs were hung on trees. Children were forced to swallow the slived fragments of dead children’s hearts. Nearly three quarters of the number of children who were massacred died first by strangulation, their eyes and protruding tongues were extracted, their bodies opened and their entrails pulled out, and their bodies hacked and torn and left lying in that condition on the streets and pavements.

Blood dripping corpses were fairly hung from windows or stuck on posts and pikes. Children by the score per minute were scourged to death also being struck by horrible whips made of rubber, rope, or leather, and also elastic rubber whips with horrible iron spiked lashes at the ends, and the lashes torn their flesh until they were covered with gore. Within three days the sliced up bodies of the helpless innocents lay strewn by thousands, the blood lying in puddles.

The split off “Glandelinian” portion of Darger’s psyche is arguably the mind of a serial killer, made visible. As I came to know and accept this side of Darger, I was forced to confront the possibility, that at the age of 19, having just escaped from a psychiatric institution, he could have been the killer of Elsie Paroubek. The serious investigation of this possibility immensely enhanced my study of Darger, at the same time adding new force to the concept “Outsider.” Would I have undertaken my study of Darger’s life and work if I had believed him to be a murderer of girls? Yes.

Darger was a deeply devout Catholic; attending mass daily, three or four masses on Sunday, confession weekly. His compulsive involvement with the church across the street provided him with another mean of defense. His writings are filled with conventional religious morality, with the Vivian girls perfect models of Catholic rectitude. He describes them as “celestial children.”

But, from childhood on, Darger was in conflict with God. He couldn’t understand God’s failure to answer prayers. His inability or refusal to prevent the sufferings of children, or to stop those who might harm them. Darger was tormented by God’s evident silence in the face of evil. Throughout his life, his simple but profound belief caused him terrible anguish, often provoking him to rage, lived out in In The Realms of the Unreal.

Am an enemy against the Christian cause, and desire with all my heart to see to it that their armies are crushed! I will see to the winning of the war for the Glandelinians. Results of too many unjust trials. Will not bear them under any conditions, even at the risk of losing my soul, or causing the loss of many others and vengeance will be shown if further trials continues! God is too hard to me. I will not bear it any longer for no one! Let him send me to hell. I’m my own man.

Darger appears in various guises in The Realms, in particular as Captain Henry Darger, head of a secret organization of men, “The Gemini,” who are devoted to protecting little girls from harm! Throughout his life, Darger collected string, rolling it into balls. The knots and tangles became a particular focus of his fury with God. In an entry in his diary made in 1968, when he was 76 years old, we read:

Over cords falling down, temper spell with some blasphemies. Almost about to throw the ball at Christ statue. Blame him for my bad luck in things. I’m sorry to say so, I’ll always be this way, always was, and don’t give a damn.

So intense was Darger’s confusion and pain, that he came to resemble, in his writings, one of the “Desert Fathers” (at the end of his life, he was certainly no less isolated). Despite the fact that I am, at best, an atheist, I found myself studying the lives and writings of Christian mystics, in an effort to understand.

I am occasionally asked about my experience of spending so many years immersed in Darger. I often worked in his room late into the night. Occasionally I spoke aloud to Darger. Such an encounter with another mind, ultimately involves deep confrontation with one’s own self; with one’s own fantasies, with the unlived portions of one’s own life, and with the dark forces which lie within. This necessary confrontation with one’s self is, perhaps, the essential component underlying the choice of an artist to work on. Initially, it is arrived at intuitively. There is always a risk of getting lost, of identification, or of project; all of which would result in a loss of objectivity. My own training in psychoanalysis was the best preparation for this work; protecting me from losing myself for too long in Darger’s world, while permitting the occasional “regression in the service of the ego,” which is essential if one is to understand.

Perhaps the greatest danger, to which I have admittedly yielded in writing about Darger, is to have identified with his tendency to write of impossible length. The monograph which I have completed, if it is ever published, will be the most extensive art historical and psychological investigation of an outsider artist ever undertaken. Studying the secret other-world of this man has been the greatest privilege of my career. In choosing Henry Darger as the subject of my research, I am content that I made the right choice.

This paper was originally written for presentation at the Tenth World Congress of Psychiatry, Madrid, at a symposium, “Madness and Outsider Art,” held August 25, 1996, organized by Dr. Christian Shriqui, of Quebec, Canada. I wish to thank Mr. Kerry K. Ko for editing the final copy of this essay in my absence.