Artist Allen Crawford creates 256 pages of hand-drawn illustrations together to light on the centerpiece of Whitman's titanic Leaves of Grass in his absolutely gorgeous Whitman Illuminated: Song of Myself.
Song of Myself
VI
A child said What is the grass? fetching it to me with full hands; How could I answer the child? I do not know what it is any more than he. I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful green stuff woven. Or I guess if is the handkerchief of the Lord, A scented gift and remembrancer designedly dropt, Bearing the owner’s name someway in the corners, that we may see and remark, and say Whose? Or I guess the grass is itself a child, the produced babe of the vegetation. Or I guess it is a uniform hieroglyphic, And it means, Sprouting alike in broad zones and narrow zones, Growing among black folks as among white, Kanuck, Tuckahoe, Congressman, Cuff, I give them the same, I receive then the same. And now it seems to me the beautiful uncut hair of graves. Tenderly will I use you curling grass, It may be you transpire from the breasts of young men, It may be you are from old people, or from offspring taken, It may be if I had known them I would have loved them, soon out of their mother’s laps, And here you are the mothers’ laps. This grass is very dark to be from the white heads of old mothers, Darker than the colorless beards of old men, Dark to come from under the faint red roofs of mouths. O I perceive after all so many uttering tongues, And I perceive they do not come from the roofs of mouths for nothing. I wish I could translate the hints about the dead young men and women, And the hints about old men and mothers, and the offspring taken soon out of their laps. What do you think has become of the young and old men? And what do you think has become of the women and children? They are alive and well somewhere, The smallest sprout shows there is really no death, And if ever there was it led forward life, and does not wait at the end to arrest it, And ceas’d the moment life appear’d. All goes onward and outward, nothing collapses, And to die is different from what any one supposed, and luckier.
Illustrator Allen Crawford has turned Whitman’s poem "Song of Myself" into a sprawling, 256-page work of art. The densely-handwritten text and illustrations intermingle in a way that’s both surprising and wholly in tune with the spirit of the poem—exuberant, rough, and wild. "Whitman Illuminated: Song of Myself" is a sensational reading experience, an artifact in its own right, and a masterful tribute to the Good Gray Poet.
Publisher: www.tinhouse.com
Release date: May 13
To pre-order: http://www.amazon.com/Whitman-Illuminated-Song-Myself-Walt/dp/1935639781
http://www.allencrawford.net/
video filmed and directed by David Scott Kessler
www.davidscottkessler.com
www.studioscopic.com
score by Ben Warfield
get the song here: https://soundcloud.com/benwarfield/i-contain-multitudes
http://datagarden.org/7552/ben-warfield/
