Bruce Kinch
Photography annual 1970
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@edwardgoreyelephanthouse
Bruce Kinch
Photography annual 1970

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âI donât think anything might have been. What is, is.â
Edward Gorey, Cape Cod, Massachusetts, October 18, 1992.
Photograph by Richard Avedon / Š The Richard Avedon Foundation.
EVEN THE COMMAS ARE EXACTLY WHERE I LEFT THEM DID YOUâŚREALLY? https://www.tumblr.com/edwardgoreyelephanthouse/180772126477/richard-avedon-edward-gorey-cat-october-1992
đŹ 0  đ 51  â¤ď¸ 80 ¡ Edward Gorey, Cape Cod, Massachusetts, October 18, 1992
Giampaolo Sgura for VOGUE GERMANY
Giampaolo Sgura'
Edward Gorey (1925â2000), âCemetery (Garden obelisks with skulls)â
pen and ink with wash on paper, 1980 â source

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His eyes sought the broken, the worn, the faded, the fragmented. A complete object made him sad. What could one do with a complete object? Put it in a museum. Not touch it. But a torn paper, a shoelace without its double, a cup without saucer, that was stirring. They could be transformed, melted into something else. A twisted piece of pipe. Wonderful, this basket without a handle. Wonderful, this bottle without a stopper. Wonderful, the box without a key. Wonderful, half a dress, the ribbon off a hat, a fan with a feather missing. Wonderful, the camera plate without the camera, the lone bicycle wheel, half a phonograph disc. Fragments, incompleted worlds, rags, detritus, the end of objects, and the beginning of transmutations.
from Rag Time by AnaĂŻs Nin collected in Under A Glass Bell
Edward Gorey (1925â2000), âVampireâ
cover design detail for âPhantasmagorey,â 1974
source
Edward Gorey's wonderfully odd Christmas illustration
Jeanloup Sieff - Outfits by Bill Gibb (The Daily Telegraph 1972)
âVilla Medicisâ de François Halard, Rome, Italie.

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- Edward Gorey
Clive Arrowsmith - Dress by Zandra Rhodes (Vogue UK 1970)
Thanksgiving morning
I discovered lots of this funny-coloured paper so perhaps Iâll start using it up. I feel like Iâm typing on oatmeal, especially with this typewriter.
I have just finished, subject to sudden recollections of other things, a little list of things I have to do. I have a mind to write SUICIDE at the top and forget the rest.
Having successfully resisted invitations for the day in various directions, I tell myself I am getting myself organized in order to better attack work. Ha. Even I canât make myself believe this really.
I hope you are all having a Thanksgivingy Thanksgiving.
- Edward Gorey, Floating Worlds: The Letters of Edward Gorey & Peter F. Neumeyer
Just a few weeks before I had come on a statement, by Henry James in The American Scene, that gave me, I felt, unlimited access. "...is to be subject to the superstition that objects and places, coherently grouped, disposed for human use and addressed to it, must have a sense of their own, a mystic meaning proper to themselves to give out: to give out, that is, to the participant at once so interested and so detached as to be moved to a report of the matter." I was hardly detached, but otherwise I was qualified. These objects and places spoke to me profoundly, and I was moved to a report of the matter.
Photography in My Life ⢠Wright Morris ⢠Photographs & Words
Edward Gorey

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Contemplating his body of work, he said, âThe stories I'm most partial to are the most nonsensical, the most abstract â something I disapprove of in other people.â His favorites include â[The Untitled Book],â âThe Nursery Frieze,â âThe Object Lessonâ and âThe West Wing.â He dedicated this last one to Edmund Wilson. âHe was the first person to pay attention to me in print, but he was hard on my prose style. So when I dedicated a book to him I chose one without text.â Remembering Wilson, he said that along with Balanchine and the poet John Ashbery, he was one of the people who most intimidated him. Asked to characterize his art, he was nonplussed. âMore or less, it's a genre that's fallen into disuse,â he said, and then searched for antecedents. He suggested Wilhelm Busch, the 19thâcentury German cartoonist.
Mel Gussow
thousands of hours of soundless celluloid he absorbed while in New York can never be seen again. Though they didn't realize it at the time, Edward and those other cultish film nerds attending weekend-long binges forgotten silent classics were some of the last audiences to view those works before deterioration, neglect, and indifference erased decades of filmwork. Ninety-five percent of the silent reels Gorey took in at screenings in New York through the 1950s and 1960s no longer exist.
E is For Edward: A Centennial Celebration of The Mischievous Mind of Edward Gorey