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Smiling in Slow Motion: Diaries, 1991-94 by Derek Jarman
Part diary, part observation, part memoir, Smiling in Slow Motion concludes the journey begun in Modern Nature. These previously unpublished journals stretch from May 1991 until two weeks before the author’s death in February 1994.
Hardcover
First published January 1, 2000
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About the author
Derek Jarman
30 books194 followersDerek Jarman was an English film director, stage designer, artist, and writer.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 33 reviews
August 28, 2024
This book makes me want to live, no matter how much it hurts. I guess the main thing is to keep an armor of love around yourself—not that love can save anyone from their fate, but it can save sanity… That sounds like an awful Christian cliché, and much easier said than done, but anyway, it’s what I’m taking away from this. Reading Jarman’s journals has been an amazing experience.
June 9, 2021
‘Life now is a little like eating the leftovers from a feast, profundities are transparent as a glass negative – half seen, half believed, in the tripping twilight where I reside. I’m writing this with a gold Waterman, my great extravagance, in violet ink! Dead camp, or should I say soft butch?’
‘Aren’t we all secret nellies with tough-as-fuck exteriors?’
Not easy to review someone else’s journals – it’s almost like telling someone they’ve lived wrong/felt wrong, and who am I or anyone to judge the way someone lives their life? Deliberately read this as slow as I possibly can – finally finishing it after two summers have gone by. I’ve basically highlighted and made too many notes in most of the pages of the book. And I’ll share a few quotes from it – because I think that that may be the best way to review a personal ‘journal’. I love Modern Nature a lot, and this was as brilliant if not more so. Next one’s Chroma?
‘Migraine. I planted up the sempervivums that HB ‘rescued’ from Mc-Donald’s where they were dying, waterless in semi-dark. McDonald’s does a good job in torturing plants.’
‘In the afternoon I watered the sempervivums, the secret of their culture is to pretend you are the melting winter snow. The sempervivum or houseleek is also called Jovis barba – Jupiter’s beard. Four hundred years before Christ, Theophrastus mentions Aizoon the ever-living.’
‘Perhaps Karl’s psychosis was brought on by his passion for acid with its jewel-like illusions. Through all this I remained in love with him, but increased the distance, he was always threatening to descend. When I saw him in New York two years ago he seemed more distracted than ever – he had discovered he had the virus. This didn’t worry him as he collected used condoms in the bars and parks and ate them – he confided this to me with a feeling of desperation. The mechanics of sex left him an exile to his own emotions. Karl’s craving for love was boundless, he spent every moment of his life either imbibing culture to bolster his insecurities or cruising.’
‘Richard is hanging on to the picture frame for dear life and I’m hanging on to life for dear life. I would rather be alive than dead, I’m too curious about the here and now.’
‘Paintings are the tulips of our time and the petals have blown. I feel much sadness over Richard’s plight. It’s a good thing to fight the shadows but to lose yourself in the dark? He has started me painting again. I’m always welcome to come and go, and leave a dreadful mess for Piers to clean up. Piers mixes the paints and we talk ourselves through the new paintings: ‘I don’t think this one goes as far, or is as good as that one.’ We started with brushes, took up the kitchen knife and then rubber gloves, dipping them in the pigment, clawing the paint on the canvas, fireworks of colour and tortured scribbling, they look like my inner state, something film can never express, ideas there are endlessly swallowed by budgets which preclude a wild unhinged approach. Passionate pigment.’
‘The thirtieth, my parents’ wedding anniversary, comes again. Three years ago it was warm and sunny, the ivy-leaved toadflax out by the lifeboat station bright with flowers. Today there is no hint of them. Mother of millions, fleas and lice, wandering sailor, monkey jaws, braving the cold. Each day brings different colours to the crambe leaves, some are pure magenta, others overtaken by a cobalt-green.’
‘Conversation rambled through the night. I wish it were raining, rain concentrates the mind, the blue sky is an illusion, behind lies an infinite black.’
‘Sodomy is straight. Sarah says forty per cent of women have practised anal sex; statistically there are more straight arsefuckers than queers. Kinky sodomy as subversion, it transgresses all notions of Judeo-Christian family values, pleasure without responsibility.’
‘In the middle is the muddle of sex equated with love – too much sex never made anyone short-sighted, but love was another matter. I never felt I was using my anonymous lovers or that I was used by them, we always parted happy. The Judeo-Christian fuck-up annihilated in the orgasm.’
‘The dinner ended with the tale of Maria Callas’s ashes being scattered in the Aegean, blown into the face of the dignitary, blinding and choking him on live TV.’
‘I met HB in the most romantic of circumstances, in the front row of the Tyneside Cinema, and rang him later to wish him Happy New Year – he came down to London with a bag on his shoulder, like Dick Whittington, and eventually came back to stay. I knew the moment I saw him that I would live with him for the rest of my life. When I am gone I would like to think he will be buried with me. Perhaps we should have three spaces, as I hope he will fall in love again. He is my first true love at fifty and I am his at twenty-seven. Some of us are slow, it was worth the wait.’
I picked this book up every time I needed to feel that extra something – that feeling of being by the sea in early autumn-time when the plants are still intact but a bit more chilled out. Refreshing, every breathe tingled with the joy of living, yet not resisting the change that’s inevitably coming – the eventual fall of leaves and more. It’s the very opposite of Virginia Woolf walking into the waters with rocks in her pockets. The ‘control’ and calmness that Jarman possessed even on his remaining last days of his life was so beautiful. I almost felt like I shouldn’t be reading something so intimate about someone else’s life, but Jarman did want to have this published, so that made it alright somehow. Reading Jarman’s journals makes one wants to live, no matter how shit the situation/condition is. And I think everyone needs a copy – of the whole series. The covers have great designs as well – so there’s nothing to lose, really – place them around the house if you wish. I know I would.
‘Ken asks questions:
What was the best sex I ever had?
I don’t think location made much difference, probably in bed rather than up a tree, it was probably powerful sodomy.
What do I think of living with someone?
It’s a co-option into their life, I can’t think of not living with someone. I’m certain I’m as happy as anyone. I’ve spent years alone.
Is it difficult?
Not really, though I put walls around my life to do it. I don’t go rushing about cruising and I certainly don’t bring strange boys home – there are three of us already: him, me and the HIV. I worry about letting HB down by snuffing it.
Where would I live if I wasn’t here?
Not possible to contemplate. Berlin destroyed by unification, Rome too exclusive, Paris no room for minds like mine – Peter Greenaway territory, home of the worst since the war, no queers in Paris except in the bars.’
To finish up, I can’t leave out Jarman’s love for hellebores. He mentions it on seven different occasions in this volume of his journals (yes – I counted). They’re such odd plants. I was curious about them the first time I saw them in ‘real-life’. I think I forgot about them until I read about them in Jarman’s journals.
‘At Beth Chatto’s nursery we bankrupted ourselves on hellebores, black auriculas and a silvery sage, said hello to Beth and then drove to Brian Eno’s house in Woodbridge to pay our respects to Simon and Marcus – who is engineering the music for Blue. We had tea and left in the gloom. I bought Rilke at a second-hand bookshop and then came back to London.’
‘I do not mind missing my spring flowers, they will bloom and I will imagine them.’
September 11, 2018
Derek Jarman's last diaries. Read for the second time, due to the new edition published by Vintage.
Vintage are also reissuing At Your Own Risk and Chroma in 2019: both of which were written in the period covered by this book. Interesting to compare the old covers with these new ones: Jarman's face is gone, replaced by different shots of his Dungeness garden. It's a reminder that the man himself was once a brand - a celebrity, even. In 2018 his selling power relies more on the work - not least the garden. Perhaps the current fashion for nature writing is partly behind this shift. Still, Jarman himself says somewhere that he should have been a gardener rather than a film director.
Neil Bartlett's introduction is typically pro-queer in its contextualising. It's a useful contrast to Olivia Laing's introduction to Modern Nature (the earlier diaries). Whereas Laing specialises in renewing artists' lives down the years through her own detached reading, Bartlett is a direct witness from the era in question. Like Jarman, he was (and is) a British gay male writer putting out work in the 1980s and 1990s, and so can corroborate the queer-themed struggles depicted in Jarman's diaries.
Bartlett reveals that one of Jarman's aborted projects was a modern-day film of Dorian Gray, with Bartlett himself hired as a writer. He also reminds us that although usually labelled as a filmmaker, Jarman was rated by the art world as a painter, and was shortlisted for the Turner prize in the 80s. This is the key to his method, I think: as with his films, Jarman's prose has a highly aesthetic sense of its own texture. He wrote the diaries with a fountain pen in a decorative hand - a page of which is reproduced here - and kept writing until he was physically incapable of continuing.
Jarman's partner Keith Collins is the hidden star of this book. Not only is he a recurring character, as Jarman's handsome companion, muse, actor, and eventually carer, but Collins also transcribed, edited and named this posthumous volume (after a line in the diaries about an actor in Sebastiane). Just after this 2018 edition was published, the terrible news came through that Collins had died, aged 52 - the same age as Jarman in 1994. So the book is now a double memorial.
Neil Bartlett's argument is that for all the rainbow-branded awareness of today's more enlightened times, there is still a dearth of depictions of real-life gay domesticity, then as now. This is perhaps debatable. But the book is certainly evidence that in the early 1990s gay people were still struggling not only for their rights, but for the right way of struggling. Jarman favoured the radical street protests of Peter Tatchell and Outrage, as opposed to Ian McKellen and Stonewall's more polite, lobby-based efforts. Indeed, there's times in the diaries when Stonewall seems as much Jarman's enemy as the Conservative government.
A fascinating and ultimately heartbreaking document. Jarman mentions artists whose passing wasn't so sad, as 'their work was complete'. In his case, despite the tonal finality of 'Blue', he was working on even more films when he died: his 'Dorian', plus an adaptation of James Purdy's 'Narrow Rooms'. Required reading for social historians, arthouse film fans, and for all those who try to live an artistic life against the odds.
Vintage are also reissuing At Your Own Risk and Chroma in 2019: both of which were written in the period covered by this book. Interesting to compare the old covers with these new ones: Jarman's face is gone, replaced by different shots of his Dungeness garden. It's a reminder that the man himself was once a brand - a celebrity, even. In 2018 his selling power relies more on the work - not least the garden. Perhaps the current fashion for nature writing is partly behind this shift. Still, Jarman himself says somewhere that he should have been a gardener rather than a film director.
Neil Bartlett's introduction is typically pro-queer in its contextualising. It's a useful contrast to Olivia Laing's introduction to Modern Nature (the earlier diaries). Whereas Laing specialises in renewing artists' lives down the years through her own detached reading, Bartlett is a direct witness from the era in question. Like Jarman, he was (and is) a British gay male writer putting out work in the 1980s and 1990s, and so can corroborate the queer-themed struggles depicted in Jarman's diaries.
Bartlett reveals that one of Jarman's aborted projects was a modern-day film of Dorian Gray, with Bartlett himself hired as a writer. He also reminds us that although usually labelled as a filmmaker, Jarman was rated by the art world as a painter, and was shortlisted for the Turner prize in the 80s. This is the key to his method, I think: as with his films, Jarman's prose has a highly aesthetic sense of its own texture. He wrote the diaries with a fountain pen in a decorative hand - a page of which is reproduced here - and kept writing until he was physically incapable of continuing.
Jarman's partner Keith Collins is the hidden star of this book. Not only is he a recurring character, as Jarman's handsome companion, muse, actor, and eventually carer, but Collins also transcribed, edited and named this posthumous volume (after a line in the diaries about an actor in Sebastiane). Just after this 2018 edition was published, the terrible news came through that Collins had died, aged 52 - the same age as Jarman in 1994. So the book is now a double memorial.
Neil Bartlett's argument is that for all the rainbow-branded awareness of today's more enlightened times, there is still a dearth of depictions of real-life gay domesticity, then as now. This is perhaps debatable. But the book is certainly evidence that in the early 1990s gay people were still struggling not only for their rights, but for the right way of struggling. Jarman favoured the radical street protests of Peter Tatchell and Outrage, as opposed to Ian McKellen and Stonewall's more polite, lobby-based efforts. Indeed, there's times in the diaries when Stonewall seems as much Jarman's enemy as the Conservative government.
A fascinating and ultimately heartbreaking document. Jarman mentions artists whose passing wasn't so sad, as 'their work was complete'. In his case, despite the tonal finality of 'Blue', he was working on even more films when he died: his 'Dorian', plus an adaptation of James Purdy's 'Narrow Rooms'. Required reading for social historians, arthouse film fans, and for all those who try to live an artistic life against the odds.
August 7, 2023
Lastig om niet emotioneel te raken tijdens het lezen van Jarmans slotakkoord. Waar Modern Nature zich vooral focust op het opzetten van Prospect Cottage, richt dit dagboek zich vooral op activisme en lichamelijk verval. Zijn leven komt tot een einde, maar de ambitie en scherpte van Jarman neemt niet af. Prachtig, prachtig, prachtig.
December 7, 2022
I can't stress enough how beautiful this writing is.
This is Jarman at his best, unapologetic, human, loving, fading, accepting.
I absolutely love Jarman's writing in any form. This set of diary entries in the last years of his life is no different and reads as purely sublime. He is slowly fading physically but keeps a sense of perspective and realism about his situation. The entries are still funny, some acerbic, some harrowing and tragic, but running through them all is his pure love and devotion for HB.
The garden at Dungeness features heavily as his sanctuary against the world and the backbiting bullshit of London. It is lovely to hear him working on it and constantly adding and improving right up until the end, the power of future positivity and the knowledge that the garden will outlast him and everyone around him.
I blissed out reading this. It was an absolute joy to read.
Love above all else 💜💜💜💜
This is Jarman at his best, unapologetic, human, loving, fading, accepting.
I absolutely love Jarman's writing in any form. This set of diary entries in the last years of his life is no different and reads as purely sublime. He is slowly fading physically but keeps a sense of perspective and realism about his situation. The entries are still funny, some acerbic, some harrowing and tragic, but running through them all is his pure love and devotion for HB.
The garden at Dungeness features heavily as his sanctuary against the world and the backbiting bullshit of London. It is lovely to hear him working on it and constantly adding and improving right up until the end, the power of future positivity and the knowledge that the garden will outlast him and everyone around him.
I blissed out reading this. It was an absolute joy to read.
Love above all else 💜💜💜💜
September 8, 2020
If you've read 'Modern Nature' then you know what to expect, lots of irreverent, funny, poignant and moving diary entries about gardening, love, queerness, the fecklessness of the royal family and mostly, living as a HIV+ person. This took me much longer to read than I'd hoped as it is no surprise to learn that as Jarman's health worsens, the entries become sadder and harder to read in volume.
January 23, 2013
Jarman's journals are heartbreakingly beautiful. Ranging from the mundane minutia of everyday life to harrowing passages of the ravages of AIDS on both his circle of friends and his own body, this collection was depressing, but well worth reading.
February 28, 2022
I think it's possible that the more I read of Jarman's work, the less I like the man. His *work*, I love. The man seems insistent that unless he did it, it's not very good. Nobody else thinks as deeply, as originally, with as much understanding of the world as he does. So he seems to think.
March 3, 2013
notes:
very moving.. i like that he writes down what books he reads, especially when writing the colour book (chroma). good gardening hints.
p34, 42,
146 horace
167 manlio brusatin history of colours
168,
170 expensive railfares and how irresponsible the tories are
179 grey
182 grey
199 colourbooks
203 brown
222 diaries % lives
230 alienation
232 life
233, 239 england, tories, no care for social value (passim)
240
246
248 film a language in collision with the world
261 is time the something of nothing?
263 existing in the spaces between words
268 blessing of reading & writing
278 horace
337 no aggression in sooley's fotos which is why they are elegant
354 small places
very moving.. i like that he writes down what books he reads, especially when writing the colour book (chroma). good gardening hints.
p34, 42,
146 horace
167 manlio brusatin history of colours
168,
170 expensive railfares and how irresponsible the tories are
179 grey
182 grey
199 colourbooks
203 brown
222 diaries % lives
230 alienation
232 life
233, 239 england, tories, no care for social value (passim)
240
246
248 film a language in collision with the world
261 is time the something of nothing?
263 existing in the spaces between words
268 blessing of reading & writing
278 horace
337 no aggression in sooley's fotos which is why they are elegant
354 small places
December 30, 2024
I would have rated this more but I found it so difficult to finish / get through. Not because it was badly written - it was beautiful and inspired me to try harder at writing my own diary, seeing that it could be done in a different form (ie. sometimes descriptive or feelings based and sometimes note form of the most important parts of the day) - I just found it hard for some reason.
Perhaps because I kept pausing to imagine him writing or thinking about his life and garden and friends and all that.
There were pets that made me cry and parts that made me laugh out loud, but that’s probably my potty humour!
Perhaps because I kept pausing to imagine him writing or thinking about his life and garden and friends and all that.
There were pets that made me cry and parts that made me laugh out loud, but that’s probably my potty humour!
August 12, 2018
"A dull voyeuristic sort of night, two short-haired lads with fine physiques put on a display, snapped on condoms like surgeons with rubber gloves."
"We keep meeting Faye Dunaway - shouting 'Hello Boys' on a pushbike this morning near the Strand bookstore."
"I walked up to Jacques Lang, mistaking him for Alessi, and startled him by saying: 'I have one of your teapots.' He must have thought I was mad."
"He thinks nothing of buying Japanese tramps' clothes by Issey Miyake at £1,000 a throw, although these make him look like a sack of Romney Marsh potatoes."
He worked for fundraising at RNIB! And ate at the Tokyo Diner!
"We keep meeting Faye Dunaway - shouting 'Hello Boys' on a pushbike this morning near the Strand bookstore."
"I walked up to Jacques Lang, mistaking him for Alessi, and startled him by saying: 'I have one of your teapots.' He must have thought I was mad."
"He thinks nothing of buying Japanese tramps' clothes by Issey Miyake at £1,000 a throw, although these make him look like a sack of Romney Marsh potatoes."
He worked for fundraising at RNIB! And ate at the Tokyo Diner!
September 8, 2019
I read "Modern Nature" when I realized there was a second set of Jarman's journals I got it right away. It's a little difficult because you know from the beginning that you're the last few years of Jarman's life right up to his passing.
Derek still writes about his gardening at Prospect Cottage in Dungeness, but he also documents the films he made during those years (Wittgenstein and Blue), the books he wrote (At Your Own Risk and Chroma) and the AIDS and gay activism he was involved with. Aside from doing AIDS activism and fundraising Jarman was involved in gay rights activism, particularly OutRage! He did not approve of the gay establishment in Stonewall.
In a way, reading "Smiling in Slow Motion" is like opening a time capsule. Throughout Derek Jarman writes about his experience living with (and dying of) AIDS, the ongoing infections and complications, the drugs and the complications, the care, the hospital closure that marked neoconservative governance of the time. People don't really think that much any more about how awful those times were, HIV is a chronic illness that people live with instead of a death sentence. The crisis is over in the developed world and we can put the crisis in Africa out of our minds easily enough. Reading "Smiling in Slow Motion" puts you back in the middle of the crisis, where there were entire hospital wards of patients dying of AIDS. Jarman recorded friends dying constantly in the UK, throughout Europe and in the US.
The book is full of everyday life, laughter and profound reflections. Both journals are well worth reading.
Quoting Jarman in June 1993:
"Every view ends in illness, the whole world staggering into the grave just a little too soon. It should have begun in ten years' time, but started ten years ago and now it's all over. I wonder if any of this will be remembered; probably not; as in the scale of human tragedy it is very light."
Derek Jarman died 25 years ago, his life partner died last summer.
https://www.theguardian.com/film/2018...
Derek still writes about his gardening at Prospect Cottage in Dungeness, but he also documents the films he made during those years (Wittgenstein and Blue), the books he wrote (At Your Own Risk and Chroma) and the AIDS and gay activism he was involved with. Aside from doing AIDS activism and fundraising Jarman was involved in gay rights activism, particularly OutRage! He did not approve of the gay establishment in Stonewall.
In a way, reading "Smiling in Slow Motion" is like opening a time capsule. Throughout Derek Jarman writes about his experience living with (and dying of) AIDS, the ongoing infections and complications, the drugs and the complications, the care, the hospital closure that marked neoconservative governance of the time. People don't really think that much any more about how awful those times were, HIV is a chronic illness that people live with instead of a death sentence. The crisis is over in the developed world and we can put the crisis in Africa out of our minds easily enough. Reading "Smiling in Slow Motion" puts you back in the middle of the crisis, where there were entire hospital wards of patients dying of AIDS. Jarman recorded friends dying constantly in the UK, throughout Europe and in the US.
The book is full of everyday life, laughter and profound reflections. Both journals are well worth reading.
Quoting Jarman in June 1993:
"Every view ends in illness, the whole world staggering into the grave just a little too soon. It should have begun in ten years' time, but started ten years ago and now it's all over. I wonder if any of this will be remembered; probably not; as in the scale of human tragedy it is very light."
Derek Jarman died 25 years ago, his life partner died last summer.
https://www.theguardian.com/film/2018...
June 17, 2021
Glorious and tragic diary entries of Jarman’s last years. Even if unfamiliar with his film/painting/gardening/written work, the book yields extraordinary and visceral insights into being gay in the late 80s/ early 90s - things have already progressed significantly. Of course Jarman is dying of AIDS as he wrote this, enumerating the cocktails of drugs he was taking each day while his eyesight was gradually declining. His enthusiasm, his lust for life, however, prevails with astonishing ardour, and even in his lowest moments (deciding that pulling his trousers down in his moments of shock diarrhoea was more effective in the salvation of his clothes, constituting a memorable example) his positivity and humour shine through with a resilient tranquility. Jarman loved life, and the book encapsulates this sentiment; you feel as if you have lost a dear friend by its final pages. Would recommend to anyone part of the LGBTQ+ community, and anyone else, for that matter.
July 2, 2022
What a phenomenal book! I picked it up after reading the transcript of "Blue" and wanted to skim it to understand his thought process and life with illness. Given that his other book, "Modern Nature", focuses on his cottage/gardening, I chose this one as it focuses on the later half of his life. I ended up giving it a much more thorough read. Descriptions of creating art, motivation behind his art, his achievements, daily struggles, all mixed in with the prospect of dying - very inspirational.
I loved reading about how his friends took care of him. He had a strong sense of community and you see it in the pages. You understand how much this community means to him.
You are also treated to rich descriptions of flowers, which is interesting when compared to his daily struggles and the love he shared with his partner (HB).
Above all, Jarman took pride in his work and expansion of knowledge even when on the verge of death. Moments of pride and frustration.
I loved reading about how his friends took care of him. He had a strong sense of community and you see it in the pages. You understand how much this community means to him.
You are also treated to rich descriptions of flowers, which is interesting when compared to his daily struggles and the love he shared with his partner (HB).
Above all, Jarman took pride in his work and expansion of knowledge even when on the verge of death. Moments of pride and frustration.
October 17, 2021
The last of Jarman's diaries, and in many ways some of the most difficult entries to read. I found myself struck by the depths of his and HB's relationship, with the final words being a declaration of true love. At the same time, Jarman — in spite of, or perhaps because of, his deteriorating health — is at his most acerbic, cutting down figures from politics and popular culture with his signature wit.
August 28, 2019
This book was incredibly moving. After reading Modern Nature this is the perfect follow up ... but be prepared for tears. It felt like he was a friend by the end. I highly recommend both these books. I have always loved Dungeness, Prospect Cottage and Derek’s beautiful garden and this brought me closer to the magic of that special place and to the amazing man himself.
July 18, 2021
I made a video essay about Derek Jarman's work - Watch it here. Because of this I have spent the past six months with him and it has provided some of the greatest joy in my life. Thank you Derek.
June 19, 2022
heartbreaking & inspiring; perhaps even more so than modern nature
i loved this book so much
i loved this book so much
October 6, 2021
Bawled the moment I finished it - devastating. Again I strongly feel this and Modern Nature should be required reading.
July 18, 2022
Derek Jarman is a beautiful soul
July 2, 2022
He helps me want to live <3
January 2, 2023
Have loved Jarman’s films (especially Jubilee) but this book is also a memento of colleague and friend - the late Lee Jensen, bought from the exhibition/estate sale that took place on December 17/18 of 2022. Of course, I had to buy something this queer. Tucked into the back cover are Lee’s Metlink bus ticket (departing from the Massey University Wallace Street stop), a Qantas Economy ticket for a flight from Christchurch to Wellington, and a pink Post It note listing exhibition addresses and times (probably for the Massey Exhibition course Lee was so dedicated to).
The diary starts in 1991 after Jarman’s HIV positive diagnosis and subsequent move to Prospect Cottage, Dungeness, Kent. Over the first pages (May/June ’91), Jarman talks about the various delights of his garden more than any other topic (like Lee, a lover of flowers), peppered with slightly tired responses to various films and exhibitions that he’s dragged along to. It’s a busy artistic life. His lover HB is a colourful companion. Cruising trips to Hamstead Heath are a regular occurrence.
Glad I recently watched the Hating Peter Tatchell doco as it gives me some recent visual and political context for the book, in fact, I’m sure there was footage of Jarman alongside Tatchell and Jimmy Somerville at various gay rights protests. All gay pariahs to many for their militant Outing of closeted politicians and celebrities. Every now and then Jarman will compare his stigma to Sir Ian McKellen’s lauded acceptance, dining with PMs and royalty.
Very readable, especially considering it’s a diary, not written for publication.
Don’t much like the colour plates of Jarman’s paintings, featuring action brush strokes that are a bit of a frayed and splintered mess.
By page 248, “I’ve noticed that the diary is sinking under the weight of illness like The Raft of the Medusa…” Yes, entries about the garden, queer politics and friends are now swamped by the shifting and deteriorating symptoms.
By page 328, “The idea of death is so sweet, all this struggle over, no more journalists ringing to ask me if I’m dead – so they can make a few last pounds, then get some other poor soul.”
The former daily rhythm of the diary entries becomes threadbare then stops without warning. Real life and death, not a narrative arc.
PS. Jarman’s father was a Kiwi.
The diary starts in 1991 after Jarman’s HIV positive diagnosis and subsequent move to Prospect Cottage, Dungeness, Kent. Over the first pages (May/June ’91), Jarman talks about the various delights of his garden more than any other topic (like Lee, a lover of flowers), peppered with slightly tired responses to various films and exhibitions that he’s dragged along to. It’s a busy artistic life. His lover HB is a colourful companion. Cruising trips to Hamstead Heath are a regular occurrence.
Glad I recently watched the Hating Peter Tatchell doco as it gives me some recent visual and political context for the book, in fact, I’m sure there was footage of Jarman alongside Tatchell and Jimmy Somerville at various gay rights protests. All gay pariahs to many for their militant Outing of closeted politicians and celebrities. Every now and then Jarman will compare his stigma to Sir Ian McKellen’s lauded acceptance, dining with PMs and royalty.
Very readable, especially considering it’s a diary, not written for publication.
Don’t much like the colour plates of Jarman’s paintings, featuring action brush strokes that are a bit of a frayed and splintered mess.
By page 248, “I’ve noticed that the diary is sinking under the weight of illness like The Raft of the Medusa…” Yes, entries about the garden, queer politics and friends are now swamped by the shifting and deteriorating symptoms.
By page 328, “The idea of death is so sweet, all this struggle over, no more journalists ringing to ask me if I’m dead – so they can make a few last pounds, then get some other poor soul.”
The former daily rhythm of the diary entries becomes threadbare then stops without warning. Real life and death, not a narrative arc.
PS. Jarman’s father was a Kiwi.
Read
July 15, 2023I started this book last Sunday, after planning out a day of quietness. Meditation in the morning and then a day of reading, coffee, and quiet movies. This felt like a very suitable book for the occasion, and I’ve got to give myself a slight pat on the back and say I think I chose well.
“Smiling in Slow Motion” is a collection of Derek Jarman’s diary entries from 1991 up until his untimely death at the beginning of 1994. It sounds harrowing. It doesn’t sound like a fun read, and towards the end particularly, it really isn’t, but I know from reading “Modern Nature” - Jarman’s earlier journals - that it’s a book of colour; of love and passion; a book that has Derek Jarman’s creative mind seeping from every word.
We are warned at the beginning of the book that, as to be expected, the writing that Derek was able to output towards the end of his life becomes increasingly disjointed and difficult to read - this is visibly noticeable in the hand-written examples of Derek’s diary entries that are interspersed in the book. I didn’t ever find the writing to be all too disjointed, however, which is total testament to his craft as a writer. Language seemed to come so effortlessly to Jarman that, even in small cue-like chunks of writing, his vivacious and irrepressible outlook on life shone through.
I could gush about Jarman and this book for the rest of my life, so I’ll wrap things up here. One final thing to note then, is how, no matter how ill Derek was feeling, art and the creative ideas he stored within him, were at the absolute forefront of his every waking moment. Even days before he passed, and as he was being brought into whispered speak, he outright refused to allow HIV to take control of him. No panic. No real, lasting anger. But also, no giving in. Accepting. Beautiful and tender in every shape and form.
You can probably tell this isn’t really a review. I don’t feel like a real review is needed. This is just another tip of the proverbial hat to Derek.
“Smiling in Slow Motion” is a collection of Derek Jarman’s diary entries from 1991 up until his untimely death at the beginning of 1994. It sounds harrowing. It doesn’t sound like a fun read, and towards the end particularly, it really isn’t, but I know from reading “Modern Nature” - Jarman’s earlier journals - that it’s a book of colour; of love and passion; a book that has Derek Jarman’s creative mind seeping from every word.
We are warned at the beginning of the book that, as to be expected, the writing that Derek was able to output towards the end of his life becomes increasingly disjointed and difficult to read - this is visibly noticeable in the hand-written examples of Derek’s diary entries that are interspersed in the book. I didn’t ever find the writing to be all too disjointed, however, which is total testament to his craft as a writer. Language seemed to come so effortlessly to Jarman that, even in small cue-like chunks of writing, his vivacious and irrepressible outlook on life shone through.
I could gush about Jarman and this book for the rest of my life, so I’ll wrap things up here. One final thing to note then, is how, no matter how ill Derek was feeling, art and the creative ideas he stored within him, were at the absolute forefront of his every waking moment. Even days before he passed, and as he was being brought into whispered speak, he outright refused to allow HIV to take control of him. No panic. No real, lasting anger. But also, no giving in. Accepting. Beautiful and tender in every shape and form.
You can probably tell this isn’t really a review. I don’t feel like a real review is needed. This is just another tip of the proverbial hat to Derek.
October 30, 2022
Oh this was again a very intense and depressing book. More than a year ago, I picked up Derek Jarman's diary,
Modern Nature
. I found that especially moving, and so I decided to pick up its sequel, which is this book. And I must say, it is more intense and depressing than the previous one. After all, this is the last set of writings the author has penned down before he died of AIDS. So if you want to see how AIDS wrecks someone's body and mind, then this is a must-read. It's absolutely touching, I should say.
As I already said before, I was just a little kid during the height of the AIDS epidemic. Nowadays, people who have HIV can live very normal lives, as medicine has already advanced far enough to make the disease manageable. However, this was not the case in the 1990s. And the author showed how one can be very determined to live, even against all odds.
As I was reading this book, I could definitely sense that the author still had a lot of things he wanted to do in life, except that the body he was inhabiting was almost giving up. This book is a chronicle of a fight to the end, showing how his bodily functions slowly give way. His eyes fade into blue, his stomach gives in and causes embarrassing accidents, just to name a few. Hospital visits are frequent. And it is a good thing that he is surrounded by people who love him, and take care of him. And in the end, he dies.
This was such a depressing book that when I finished it, I wanted to talk to someone to cheer me up. But nevertheless, it provides a very poignant picture of life back in the 1990s, as some of us have dealt with the AIDS epidemic. I give it 4 out of 5 stars, as it's a very emotional and touching book to read.
See my other book reviews here.
As I already said before, I was just a little kid during the height of the AIDS epidemic. Nowadays, people who have HIV can live very normal lives, as medicine has already advanced far enough to make the disease manageable. However, this was not the case in the 1990s. And the author showed how one can be very determined to live, even against all odds.
As I was reading this book, I could definitely sense that the author still had a lot of things he wanted to do in life, except that the body he was inhabiting was almost giving up. This book is a chronicle of a fight to the end, showing how his bodily functions slowly give way. His eyes fade into blue, his stomach gives in and causes embarrassing accidents, just to name a few. Hospital visits are frequent. And it is a good thing that he is surrounded by people who love him, and take care of him. And in the end, he dies.
This was such a depressing book that when I finished it, I wanted to talk to someone to cheer me up. But nevertheless, it provides a very poignant picture of life back in the 1990s, as some of us have dealt with the AIDS epidemic. I give it 4 out of 5 stars, as it's a very emotional and touching book to read.
See my other book reviews here.
December 17, 2024
i really didn’t know much about derek jarman when i picked up this book for uni - i’d seen edward ii, but i knew nothing about the man behind the film. i really didn’t expect to enjoy the diaries of someone i knew nothing about this much, but they had me laughing out loud (i’ve never known someone to hate ian mckellen so much) and then near tears at the end. getting to know jarman through his own words has been a pleasure and i’m devastated i never existed at the same time as him - i’d say i would have loved to interview him, but i don’t think he would have liked that! i will definitely be reading and watching his other work.
April 15, 2024
This was a poignant account of Derek Jarman's final three years living with HIV/AIDS in the early 1990s - the journal accounts the truly devastating impact of this illness and its impact on not only those who suffered it but, importantly, those around them who arguably suffered more as the insidious pandemic plagued millions. A very honest and raw read.
January 1, 2024
Funny, sad, candid, strident, trivial, prophetic, peaceful, desperate, beautiful. Outstandingly readable. I could re-read this again and again. If you’re new to Jarman then start with Dancing Ledge or Modern Nature, but come back to this.
July 15, 2023
Wow. Seriously moving.
Read
August 11, 2023I am leaving this unrated as it feels inappropriate to apply one to personal diaries. But I liked it very much
July 18, 2024
This is so shocking and human and fragile. It made me cry a lot
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