Kuriosities

Why, oh why did it take this long for me to discover Joseph Cornell? I came across his work today while exploring themes of loneliness, isolation, and letter writing today. I am bespelled.

Toward the Blue Peninsula….Joseph Cornell (1903-1972) (for Emily Dickinson)

It might be lonelier
Without the Loneliness –
I’m so accustomed to my Fate –
Perhaps the Other — Peace –

Would interrupt the Dark –
And crowd the little Room –
Too scant — by Cubits — to contain
The Sacrament — of Him –

I am not used to Hope –
It might intrude upon –
Its sweet parade — blaspheme the place –
Ordained to Suffering –

It might be easier
To fail — with Land in Sight –
Than gain — My Blue Peninsula –
To perish — of Delight –

Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)

Cornell was a social recluse who spent his years mostly inside the confines of his house and his basement. He was the loneliest of the lonely. Longing for connection, but afraid and not knowing how to go about it. He filled his house with trinkets and treasures both fantastic and every day and used them to make his (now famous) shadow boxes. He would often send them to starlets that he admired…but was never able to connect with a real life love. I am intrigued, and will research more…

Mary Chapin Carpenter wrote the following gorgeous lyrics, inspired by him:

 Today Joseph is sitting alone, with occasional nods to the waitress
She tops off his cup while she’s snapping her gum, making her rounds on the lunch shift
Counting out coins, he leaves them arranged, in neat lines and circles and arcs
She just stares at the tip that spells out her name and ideas are like stars

And yesterday pedaling down 4th Avenue, between the stalls and the bookshops
The sepia tones of a lost afternoon cradled a curio storefront
And inside the air was thick with the past, as the dust settled onto his heart
And here for a moment is every place in the world and ideas are like stars

They fall from the sky, they run round your head
They litter your sleep as they beckon
They’d teach you to fly without wires or thread
They promise if only you’d let them

For the language of longing never had words, so how did you speak from your heart
Yet here is a box that swears it has heard that ideas are like stars

Tonight Joseph stood out in the yard, as Debussy played from the kitchen
Celestial companions `til mornings first lark, shone overhead and he listened
And who was that shadow there by the gate, who was that there standing guard
It was only loneliness, and loneliness waits, and ideas are like stars
Ideas are like stars
 

This entry was posted on Wednesday, June 11th, 2008 at 2:30 pm and is filed under Kuriosities. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.