By Harry Eiss
Richard Dadd is a trickster, a pre-post-modern enigma wrapped in a Shakespearean Midsummer Night's Dream, an Elizabethan Puck dwelling in a smothering Victorian insane asylum, foreshadowing and, in superb, Mad Hatter conundrums, getting into the fragmented shards of trendy nightmarish oxymorons lengthy earlier than the artists at present attempting to provide them the joker's ephemeral maps of discourse. i feel of Bob Dylan's Ballad of a skinny guy, that cryptic refusal to lessen the warped mirrors of fact to prosaic lies, or, might be All alongside the Watchtower or Mr. Tambourine guy. much more than Samuel Beckett's looking ahead to Godot, which interestingly adequate comes off as overly esoteric, too studied, too wide awake, Dadd's complete life foreshadows the forbidden front into the numinous, the belief of the inexplicable labyrinths of latest lifestyles, that splendidly wealthy Marcel Duchamp panorama of puns and satiric paradigms, that surrealistic parallax of the intense gamester Salvador Dali, that smirking irony of the works of Roy Lichtenstein, Robert Rauschenberg, John Cage, and Robert Indiana, that fragmented, meta-fictional fight of Kurt Vonnegut's Slaughterhouse 5. John Lennon definitely sensed it and could not support yet push into meta-real worlds in his personal lyrics. reflect on Strawberry Fields ceaselessly, i'm the Walrus, and the extra self-conscious Revolution quantity nine. In Yer Blues, he even refers to Dylan's major personality, Mr. Jones from Ballad of a skinny guy. If Lennon's music is taken heavily, actually, then it's a darkish crying out by means of a suicidal guy, Lord, i am lonely, wanna die; or, if taken as a metaphor for a lover's misplaced emotions approximately his unfulfilled love, it falls into the romantic rant of a standard blues or teenage rock-and-roll tune. besides the fact that, even in this point, it has a sarcasm approximately it, a feeling of giggling at itself and at Dylan's Mr. Jones, who is aware whatever is occurring yet simply now not what it truly is, after which, by way of extension, we all who've woke up to the truth that the studied Western international does not make feel, we all who fight to discover which means within the nonsense photographs, characters, and happenings within the track, and maybe, coming to a end that the nonsense is the experience. whilst Andy Warhol made the deliberately overly noticeable punning hide for the Rolling Stones' Sticky palms album, depicting a man's crotch (presumably Mick Jagger's - notwithstanding no longer actually) coated via denims with a true zipper to be unzipped to bare the sticky underpants from a man's cum, the relationship with musical creativity and sexual creativity used to be humorously conjoined, however the genuine irony wasn't lots that sexual double entendre, because it was once a self-mocking, a giggling on the author, a enjoyable conceptual undermining of the quest for that means via artwork, a featuring of the artist as trickster, greatly in keeping with Carl Jung's trickster because the impulse to anarchy, a light-hearted metaphysical comic story just like Robert Rauschenberg's mattress - a literal duvet and pillow (rumored to were from the particular mattress he shared with Jasper Johns. Which in basic terms makes the blending of realities even thicker, simply because even if the rumor is correct, it turns into genuine, maybe even extra genuine just because it suits so well into human maps of meaning), that's then remodeled with splashes of paint, held on a wall, and distinctive a piece of paintings, within the culture of Duchamp's ready-mades and the full irreverent Dada stream.