Crispin Hellion Glover is primarily known as a film actor, but is also a painter, filmmaker, author, musician, and collector and archivist of esoterica. Glover is known for portraying eccentric people on screen, such as George McFly in Back to the Future, Layne in River's Edge, the "Creepy Thin Man" in the big screen adaptation of Charlie's Angels and Willard Stiles in Willard. In the early 2000s, Glover started his own production company, Volcanic Eruptions.
One of my friends has this poster. It once hung proudly next to a poster of a particularly mangled looking Stephen Hawking. Said friend removed it when his mother was coming over to visit him one day. It remains undisplayed (but still remembered fondly and often along with other Crispin Glover related things).
I saw this film at the Times Cinema in Milwaukee several years ago. It created a very strange, dichotomous sensation of frantically changing my mind back 'n forth between 'This is covering every avante garde cliche in the book!(?)' to 'This is genius!(?)'
It was a fun time shared with good friends.
There, I purchased Glover's excellent album from him personally. It's my favorite thing he's ever done (next to this this perhaps).
He performed (as he traditionally does before his screenings) a slide show presentation of eight of his books (including this one), reading them aloud in an often manic, energetic, somewhat Vaudevillian way (Glover bemoaned the loss of Vaudeville during both Q&A's that I witnessed). Highly entertaining. I even found this slide show routine to be superior to his second film in the trilogy, It Is Fine! Everything Is Fine!, which I very recently viewed, again in Milwaukee with a good friend.
His books are haunting, absurd, confusing, hilarious, sometimes ingenious. One technique he utilizes very well is slicing up and rearranging obscure, antiquated, esoteric texts and images in a collage-like manner. Reading and viewing them silently is great, but hearing his often times odd vocal interpretations adds a whole new level of enjoyment.
I think Crispin is a completely different universe in himself, but this is a good thing. I enjoy his art and his tastes, even when they forbid all explanation and sneer at your interpretations. That said, I wish I had more of his books.
Okay. First of all, I am glad to be one of the 1000 privileged folks to own the first edition of this book. This gratitude is purely for the reason that all subsequent editions have included a different cover image than the one I have, a cover image disturbing enough to be difficult to even look at. The image on the cover of these later editions does still exist inside the book. But it is a different thing to find it as a part of a whole, between pages that can be turned. Had it been the cover of this edition, I may not have even opened the book.
That said, this handsome, eery, gothic looking volume is as well constructed and carefully designed as anything else I've seen by this artist. The contents are as disturbing and off-putting as the later edition's covers would suggest. Reading it is like stepping through a surreal nightmare.
I returned to this book three times in the last four days, each time in a different state of consciousness. No matter how fast or slow I read it, no matter what chemicals enhanced my reading, I was fruitless in finding the ultimate meaning in the piece. There certainly are moments that are quite clear, from which themes of trauma and healing, pain and legacy can be discerned. As a whole, however, the book manifested itself to me in feelings it gave me far more than rational ideas it had me consider.
Though the book is far more difficult to penetrate than Crispin Glover's excellent Rat Catching, I would still highly recommend this piece to anyone already a follower of Crispin Glover's work, and especially those interested in the very macabre.
I will return to this book, hopefully to one day better understand it, unless a feeling of disquiet and unrest is all the understanding the artist hoped me to have.
☠
Hardcover, Limited First Edition (67/1000) Volcanic Eruptions, 1995
A bit of a short story (??) anthology by the master of the obscure, rambling and faintly macabre. I loved every page. Brace yourself for the front cover.