Water From A Bucket: A Diary 1948-1957

by Charles Henri Ford, Lynne Tillman (Foreword)

"Like Tosca, Charles Henri Ford has lived for art and love...a masterpiece"---Edmund White

Genres: Biography Memoir, LGBT, Memoir

224 pages, Paperback

First published August 1, 1999

About the author

Charles Henri Ford was an American poet, novelist, filmmaker, photographer, and collage artist best known for his editorship of the Surrealist magazine View (1940-1947) in New York City, and as the partner of the artist Pavel Tchelitchew. His very informative obituary of record is here.

"The simplest summation of Mr. Ford's life and work may be that he did exactly what he wanted, and seemingly knew everyone."

Reviews

[Jesse · Rating 5 out of 5]

Though his reputation was made as a poet, Ford's artistic interests took him in many directions--prose, the visual arts, even directing a feature film. But if the back cover of this volume, a decade-long expanse of Ford's personal dairies, is to be believed, Ford himself considered this to be his masterpiece. And having read a collection of his poetry concurrently, it's rather hard to disagree. Ford's background as a poet is obvious and serves him well, as the diaries are mostly long strings of short anecdotes polished to a sparkling epigrammatic brilliance--there's definitely a talent for diverting what could conceivably be a long digression and summing it up perfectly with a witty line or shrewdly recorded bit of dialogue. Famous names waft in and out of the pages--the Sitwells, Djuna Barnes (Ford's former lover), Cocteau, Genet, Capote, as well as the not-so-famous that made an impression on Ford during his many travels and international places of residence. It's also remarkably candid about his sexual adventures and misadventures, though in the end the entire thing can almost be characterized as an elegiac valentine to his longtime partner, the Surrealist painter Pavel Tchelitchew. Though Tchelitchew, fondly referred to throughout by his pet name Pavlik, often comes off as conflicted and unbearably cantankerous, Ford still manages to convey his great love and affection, and as the diary comes to a close by recording Tchelitchew's last days and painful death I found myself, unexpectedly, near tears. A particularly notable example of the personal diary as a work of art.

"Sometimes, one has to empty out oneself to feel the world's fullness."

[ALEARDO ZANGHELLINI · Rating 5 out of 5]

I didn't expect to like this all that much, and instead I was enraptured. This is the diary of a short span of years in Ford's long life, but the story it tells is self-contained, with its own narrative arc and a meaningful conclusion. It is also, possibly, the most quotable book I have ever read! And the writing is superb.

Ford's love of life shines through every page, and is infectious. Witty, self-obsessed, oversexed, quite the consummate seducer of both men and boys -- and yet ultimately such a sound human being; the diary makes you regret not having met him. Fascinating insights, too, into the bohemian world of mid-century (mostly gay) artists and writers, whose personalities Ford's diary does such a magnificent job of sketching. His relationship with 'Pavlik' is the diary's (bittersweet) leitmotif. Utterly compelling.

[Tosh · Rating 5 out of 5]

Charles Henri Ford is basically cool. This diary documents a gay man living in a world full of interesting people - artists, writers, etc. A teen poetic genius, he helped put together VIEW Magazine which became the official Surrealist 'English' language magazine. My Dad had the whole collection, but his Mom threw it out my mistake. Nevertheless this book documents a very important time in Gay pop culture as well in the arts. A must.

[Adam Lowy · Rating 5 out of 5]

"...All a question of a balance between too many details, which water-clog the interest, and too protracted an exposition-the elastic sags. Style, at all times, is a safeguard, a high-performance gasoline.'Genius points to change...hence it is immoral.'(Samuel Butler.)'Geometry teaches us to bisex angels.'(A schoolboy.)'I think I should tickle the ass of the stove'-Pavlik,shaking down the ashes with a poker, at bedtime.
And what about the bats not yet out of hell?
To Krishnamurti:You would have me remember by forgetting.Thank you for all you have undone."

quoting Valery:"Rimbaud invented or discovered the power of harmonic incoherence"

...diary gossipy notes on lunches with Genet, Stein, Poulenc...sexual detonations...all mixed in fluidly (what a wonderful fascinating open mind! <"The annoying symmetrical flies. What a lot of fun we'd miss if we were born wise. We wouldn't run the risks. Well, there are dreams we do not remember:but they exist, nevertheless.">...and then this. As perfect a definition of poetry (or stab at it) as I've read: "To get back to poetry:it's leaving the world in order to find it. To write:grasp the magic wand (phallic symbol) and trace your words with it-after the trance is induced."...in my version, the "phallic symbol" parenthetical is removed, but so it must stay here. Like the diary (life?), the unwanted excesses and omissions are included anyway. Despite our wishes.