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Cosmic Tales, v. 2, issue 1, Summer 1939

Page 6

6      COSMIC TALES

"And in every picture, the moon is in a different phase."
"And he never painted a baby or child."
"fine! I am so glad you noticed that point. Now look at these two. Observe the first one. A crescent moon, apple trees in blossom. It is springtime. Two lovers lean against a fence. The girl has bare arms and one around her lover's body. She is kissing him on the neck. I studied that picture carefully in Vienna. the muscles of her arm are tense. She is holding him. He cannot get away. he cannot remove himself from that arm."
"Perhaps he did not want to."
"I suppose not. Now we will look at the other. Winter time; pines and hemlocks drooping with wet snow. A moon in the last quarter. The man is dead on the ground. The woman, very beautiful, kneels above him. Her lips are very red. The man is dead with arms outstretched as though he were crucified. On his neck there is no blood. The woman is smiling as though she were satisfied. Do you know what is means."
I pretended to be dumb as I answered "No."
"He was your patient and you do not know what it means?"
I deliberately changed the subject by asking, "You say there were only twenty pictures?"
"Yes. I have searched carefully."
"May I tell you that there were twenty-one?"
"where is it? Have you seen it? could I have a copy? Does it explain the rest?"
"It was painted here in the hospital. I saw it. You cannot have a copy and I think that it explains everything."
"This alone is worth my visit to america. I am thrilled with anticipation. But I am writing a psycho-analytical biography of Harold James and I must have that picture; at least a copy of it. you cannot refuse me!"
"I have to, but make yourself comfortable and let me tell you what I know of James, the man and the artist.
"he was an only child. His father died when he was very young. And for some reason, his mother wanted her son to be a great artist. She gave him every possible help, and seems to have been for years his greatest inspiration and his most sever critic. If he painted something she liked, she sold it; if she did not like it, she destroyed it. He traveled all over the world but she was always with him. The cultural world appreciated him, but she was by his side when they gave their praise. then he fell in love. The mother forced a separation and the son became definitely insane. i cared for him from then on.
"His mother always hoped that he would recover. She came very often to visit him. She had a rocking chair placed in his bedroom and that was where she sat. She talked to him a great deal but he would not answer, simply stay on his bed with his arms at right angles to his body, eyes wide open, unblinking, a typical catonic praecox.
"When she was not there, he would either sit curled up in her chair or stay in his bed, resisting any effort to move him. here is one interesting fact. he used the chair when the moon was crescent and growing full. But always the bed when the moon was full or waning. He seemed to have a terrible fear of the chair when the moon was old. perhaps that will help you.
"One day his mother brought a large painting, framed, and had me hang it on the wall. It was Whistler's "The Mother."  the wall i hung it on was 9 feet wide and 6 feet high and calcimined white. Then she brought a complete set of oils and brushes, and had them placed on a table with several pieces of canvas, so he could start painting when he recovered. He paid no attention to them, or her or anything for that matter. And then, one day, a telegram told

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6 COSMIC TALES "And in every picture, the moon is in a different phase." "And he never painted a baby or child." "fine! I am so glad you noticed that point. Now look at these two. Observe the first one. A crescent moon, apple trees in blossom. It is springtime. Two lovers lean against a fence. The girl has bare arms and one around her lover's body. She is kissing him on the neck. I studied that picture carefully in Vienna. the muscles of her arm are tense. She is holding him. He cannot get away. he cannot remove himself from that arm." "Perhaps he did not want to." "I suppose not. Now we will look at the other. Winter time; pines and hemlocks drooping with wet snow. A moon in the last quarter. The man is dead on the ground. The woman, very beautiful, kneels above him. Her lips are very red. The man is dead with arms outstretched as though he were crucified. On his neck there is no blood. The woman is smiling as though she were satisfied. Do you know what is means." I pretended to be dumb as I answered "No." "He was your patient and you do not know what it means?" I deliberately changed the subject by asking, "You say there were only twenty pictures?" "Yes. I have searched carefully." "May I tell you that there were twenty-one?" "where is it? Have you seen it? could I have a copy? Does it explain the rest?" "It was painted here in the hospital. I saw it. You cannot have a copy and I think that it explains everything." "This alone is worth my visit to america. I am thrilled with anticipation. But I am writing a psycho-analytical biography of Harold James and I must have that picture; at least a copy of it. you cannot refuse me!" "I have to, but make yourself comfortable and let me tell you what I know of James, the man and the artist. "he was an only child. His father died when he was very young. And for some reason, his mother wanted her son to be a great artist. She gave him every possible help, and seems to have been for years his greatest inspiration and his most sever critic. If he painted something she liked, she sold it; if she did not like it, she destroyed it. He traveled all over the world but she was always with him. The cultural world appreciated him, but she was by his side when they gave their praise. then he fell in love. The mother forced a separation and the son became definitely insane. i cared for him from then on. "His mother always hoped that he would recover. She came very often to visit him. She had a rocking chair placed in his bedroom and that was where she sat. She talked to him a great deal but he would not answer, simply stay on his bed with his arms at right angles to his body, eyes wide open, unblinking, a typical catonic praecox. "When she was not there, he would either sit curled up in her chair or stay in his bed, resisting any effort to move him. here is one interesting fact. he used the chair when the moon was crescent and growing full. But always the bed when the moon was full or waning. He seemed to have a terrible fear of the chair when the moon was old. perhaps that will help you. "One day his mother brought a large painting, framed, and had me hang it on the wall. It was Whistler's "The Mother." the wall i hung it on was 9 feet wide and 6 feet high and calcimined white. Then she brought a complete set of oils and brushes, and had them placed on a table with several pieces of canvas, so he could start painting when he recovered. He paid no attention to them, or her or anything for that matter. And then, one day, a telegram told