Chroma

by Derek Jarman

Chroma is a meditation on the color spectrum by the celebrated late artist and filmmaker Derek Jarman. From the explosions of image and color in In The Shadow of the Sun, The Last of England, The Garden and Wittgenstein, to the somber blacks of his collages and tar paintings, Jarman has consistently used color in unprecedented ways, making his ideas on the subject of interest to filmmakers, film audiences, artists and students alike. Blue, his most personal and innovative film, consists of a compelling soundtrack accompanied by a monochrome blue image and is, among other things, a comment on Jarman's diminishing eyesight due to AIDS. In his signature style, a lyrical combination of classical theory, anecdote, and poetry, Jarman takes the reader through the spectrum, introducing each color as an embodiment of an emotion, evoking memories or dreams. He explains the use of color in Medieval painting through the Renaissance to the modernists and draws on the great color theorists from Pliny to Leonardo. He writes too about the meanings of color in literature, science, philosophy, psychology, religion and alchemy. Read either as a work on color, or a distillation of Jarman's artistic vision, Chroma presents an exciting perspective on the subject.

Genres: Nonfiction, Art, Poetry, LGBT, Film, Queer, Design

144 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1994

About the author

Derek Jarman was an English film director, stage designer, artist, and writer.

Reviews

[Nathalie]

Beautiful meditations on colour, and a love-letter to sight and the richness of the world written as Jarman was on the verge of leaving it.

[Harry McDonald]

It's a book that feel shockingly, wonderfully mortal.

[Dylan]

This was very beautiful really. Sometimes a mess, but whatever ways it was scattered and fragmented only enhanced the whole, refracting ideas about colour and what it can evoke.

[Vartika]

“I wrote this book in the absence of time. If I have overlooked something you hold precious – write it in the margin,”

Artist and filmmaker Derek Jarman began this collection of vibrant and disorderly reflections on colour while approaching blindness due to AIDS-related complications – his last (and most poetic) work, it was written as an elegy to his sight. Now, thirty years on, it functions too as an elegy to his artistic vision which, like that of so many other gay men in the 80s and 90s, was consumed by the raging disease and political darkness of the time.

In his art, life, and activism, Jarman embodied an active, versatile, politicised aesthetic: raging against the 'cultural ineptitude' of the conservative English establishment in all he did, cultivating a garden in the shingled desert of Dungeness – flowers against all odds. This is true for Chroma, too: Jarman wrote a bright red tshirt while writing and dictating the chapter on "seeing red" as the disease ravaged his body; yellow socks while talking of the sun boiling in the sky, "a can of chrome maggots." Borrowing from Wittgenstein, Ficinio, Pliny, Da Vinci, and Newton, amongst others, he tried tried to pin down the fast, fugitive, queer nature of colour – as essence, as lifeforce, as history – on every page.

Interwoven with the spectral musings on colour and society are the artist's evocative memories of childhood, career, and deteriorating health. Jarman's prose here moves continually between measured and meditative to frantic, hurried, and fearful as both colour and aliveness recede from him; it is bereft of order or chronology just as queerness has been for so long. Yet it is a garden, a generous, blooming garden, with much to tell us about the nature of things, and of nature itself.

Jarman's garden at Prospect Cottage, a miraculous gesture of aliveness in the desert that lives on today.

[Ronan Doyle]

There was a moment here where my eyes began to well, and I might have started to weep had I not burst into laughter at a little throwaway line. Jarman's candid writing is profoundly sad and pervasively funny, the ideal outlet for a stark wit and soulful outlook. He is not easy to read, not least of all for the death that seems any instant likely to befall him. But the bloat and bagginess of the prose, its ill discipline and ungainly... emotional effluence, if you will (he would not)... is precisely what makes of it so peculiarly moving a read, and so consuming a one. I tore through it, and felt for its torrents there was much I was missing. I will read it again, and I will be glad to be able to.

[Paloma Etienne]

After this ... Dungeness

[Natalia]

Bardzo chciałabym napisać o tej książce coś mądrego, ale nic nie przychodzi mi na myśl. Niby to eseje o kolorach, ale patrząc na nią w kontekście - książka powstawała, gdy autor tracił wzrok, było to na rok przed jego śmiercią - tym ciekawsza wydaje się jej treść. Urywki informacji o barwach przeplatają się z fragmentami o życiu autora i jego doświadczeniach z AIDS. Mnóstwo językowych smaczków, które można byłoby docenić jeszcze bardziej w oryginale (między innymi idiomy z kolorami, które ciężko przełożyć).

[LuciaBraeu]

„My mind bright as a button but my body falling apart - a naked light bulb in a dark and ruined room. There is death in the air here but we're not talking about it.“

„The shoes I am wearing at the moment should be sufficient to walk me out of life.“

[Sophy H]

Admittedly not a Jarman title I'd return to as often as others but still an enjoyable journey into the poetic mind wanderings of a talented creative.

Some of the colour descriptions invoke intensely vivid imagery, smells, sights and sounds.

[Adam]

need to sit down with the films again

[t]

the colourful ramblings of a witty and gentle soul who should’ve lived much longer to make more films - they make lovely bedtime stories. love u iz!!

[mia :•)]

maybe the most moving thing i've ever read ! still crying thinking about him wearing different coloured m&s shirts to match whatever colour he was writing about :')

[Jon]

I read this as part of a book group. The first book group I've been a member of, the first book group book. What appealed was that I was vaguely aware of Jarman. I'd heard of his films like 'Jubilee' and his house and garden in Dungness ('Prospect Cottage'). I knew he was 'different', but not a lot more.

His being different is reflected in this book. It's different to most books, in that it doesn't have a clear narrative. There's a thread running through it which his failing health from AIDS, particularly his loss of sight. (The book was written in '93, he died in '94.) But mostly, it's a series of chapters, each focusing on a different colour (or a person/area strongly associated to colour) and featuring snippets of historical text, anecodtes, thoughts, memories. A real pot pourri.

I enjoyed the chapters on colour. It brought home how powerful colour is in triggering memories and making associations with people, places, emotions.

Most of all, I liked Jarman. I liked his intellect and his insight. Also, through the passages about his illness, I admired his courage, bravery, indepence and spirit. I found it inspiring.

I suspect this books isn't for all. But if you appreciate art and/or nature, want to immerse yourself in the nature and meaning of colour, plus want to get to know more about Jarman, then I'd recommend this book.

***

MY NOTES

What follows are my notes/jottings on the book. Maybe best not to read if you want a 'fresh' read! Although there isn't really an ending to give away!

Favourite quotes:

"Only dull and impotent artists screen their work with sincerity. In art there is a need for truth not sincerity" (Kasimir Malevich, Essays on Art)

Jarman calls Pliny on colour eloquent because of his "insatiable curiosity", but also that "he put himself and his prejudices so strongly into his writing". Jarman does the same.

"I'm told I'm living on the fringes of society, but what if the world were awry?"

"Leonardo's curiosity to examine the natural world is his gift. He wrote of nothing he had not observed." Jarman's writing is very much rooted in observation. Of course, through his own particular filter!

"My mind bright as a button, but my body falling apart - a naked light bulb in a dark and ruined room."

[Katie]

Doing research in high school for my term paper on trees -- yes i was quite the hippie -- i found a book called Chroma, written by an english artist/poet named Derek Jarman. The book is so pretty and full of emotion. Each chapter is a color and it seems to just be feeling, desire, and memories associated with those colors. Derek Jarman died of AIDS and it shows in his chapter "seeing red" where he does lose his vision in the end, this heartbreaking for an artist. The chapters are just snipets here and there with no real order. I loved reading it so much that i never gave it back. The book is out of print so i really didnt want to give it back even after i took a job working at the very place i took it from.

[Maria Matalaev]

Thoughts of a free man and artist on color, written while loosing his sight.
No despair, though ; humor, lots of references, of souvenirs, poetic associations.
Almost fanatic love of flowers.
Watched The Tempest and Caravaggio while reading this. Paintings and beauty everywhere…

[Antonio Heras]

Precioso libro, lleno de citas interesantes, datos, curiosidades sobre el color, la vida y la obra de Jarman. En una edición, además, preciosa. Muy recomendable.

[India]

this is on the verge of 4 stars. it’s a pretty book and i think i’d like it more if i liked reading poetry. i wasn’t sure i would, but i liked it more and more as i got used to the format and style of the book, which is definitely odd and was for me tough to figure out at first. i like the concept and his voice a lot and he seems like a funny guy so maybe i should go watch his movies. shoutout mia for being so derek-jarman-knowledgeable.

[Zo]

Fully crying at a book about color

[Лиза]

Суть книги в том, что ее написал режиссер, которые теряет зрение из-за болезни. И поскольку он человек искусства, снимает кино, писал картины, цвет играет в его жизни очень большую и важную роль. Главы книги выглядят как набор всех возможных ассоциаций и мыслей о конкретном цвете. Автор старается запомнить и записать все, что его связывает с разными цветами: от больших концепций и идей, до мелочей, на которые обычно не обращаешь внимания.
Книга может показаться очень скучной, словно это просто набор ключевых слов, объединенных цветом главы, но если держать в голове, в какой ситуации находится автор, то начинаешь чувствовать это отчаянное желание успеть вспомнить все, пока время еще есть

[Eva]

How now brown cow !!!!!

[Christina]

This was a beautiful mess. Much like the cover of my edition.

Jarman—film maker, writer, stage designer, artist—wrote this as he was losing his sight. The back cover description calls it a ‘meditation on the color spectrum,’ and that’s a good summary. It’s a meandering journey that takes the long, scenic route, rather than a straightforward itinerary. The journey is the point. The narrative serves up small passages of Jarman’s thoughts, seemingly in the order that they flowed, much like a journal. He gives us autobiography, history, anecdotes, poetry, musings, and quotes about color from Pliny the Younger to William Blake to Wittgenstein, all mixed together like artists’ paint. This is the opposite of a practical book. Like his book about his garden at Prospect Cottage, this is a collage of thoughts around its subject.




Top: Kazimir Malevich, White on White (1918). Source. Bottom: Dorothy (Judy Garland) wearing the ruby slippers in The Wizard of Oz (1939). Source. These are but two of the wide-ranging examples of color that Jarman writes about.

Unlike his garden book, there is only text here. Which you might find strange in a book all about color, especially in nature and art, but Jarman had his reasons.

I’ve placed no colour photos in this book, as that would be a futile attempt to imprison them. How could I be certain that the shade I wanted could be reproduced by the printer? I prefer that the colours should float and take flight in your minds.

A random sampling of quotes:

“I'm dreaming of a white Christmas. This song could only be sung in southern California around a swimming pool. Here, at the first hint of snow British Rail runs to a standstill, the roads become impassable, and even the pavements are a danger as the salt destroys your shoes. Christmas, born of a virgin. White cotton. Wool beards. And a gross exchange of superfluous gifts.”

“I post a letter to you, dear reader, in a red Italian envelope in the little red pillar box at the end of the garden, and watch the postman collect it at four pm in his red van. Italian business envelopes are always red. URGENT, they say. Our brown ones sneak in unnoticed.”

“...The Green Knight comes to King Arthur’s court, his hair and complexion green, riding a green horse, and carrying an axe of green gold. He commands Gawain to meet him at the Green Chapel at the spring solstice.”

“Indian yellow, banned. Cows were poisoned with mango leaves and the colour was made from their urine. It is the bright yellow in Indian miniatures.”

“I did not paint the town red until I was in my twenties. Then I lost myself; as you went to bed, I took off to the Red Light district of Soho. Our queer world was imprisoned in the shadows. Not the shop windows in Amsterdam or Hamburg where the girls flaunted themselves in the red light. Red Hot Mammas! Scarlet Women! In our world the flashing red light warned us that there was a police raid. Caught red-handed, we waited for hours carrying a number like a lottery ticket before we were questioned and checked out. Red tape. Home alone again. Red hot with anger. These nights cost you, the bank statement hovered towards the red. I sacrificed time and money pursuing red hot sex, which the legislators had made so difficult to find. I left books unread, and pictures unpainted.”

“In the black coal fire lives the spirit of storytelling. Flickering blue and scarlet flames. It was around the fire at night that men and women told their stories in the pitchy black.”

[Ygraine]

i couldn't think of any books abt love or collections of love poetry i wanted to read today, but ever since i finished beloved i haven't been able to get baby suggs & her hunger for colour, the last harmless thing in her world, out of my head.

“what world you talking about? ain't nothing harmless down here."
"yes it is. blue. that don't hurt nobody. yellow neither."
"you getting in the bed to think about yellow?"
"i likes yellow."
"then what? when you get through with blue and yellow, then what?"
"can't say. it's something can't be planned.”

and

"she never had time to see, let alone enjoy it before. took her a long time to finish with blue, then yellow, then green. she was well into pink when she died. i don't believe she wanted to get to red and i understand why because me and beloved outdid ourselves with it.”

so i read this, derek jarman's book of colour, written in the last years of his life, as he became partially blind & his medication made him see flashes of blue. and it feels like a sort of parallel 'finishing with' colour, a gathering together of scraps that felt a little like sethe's offerings, a working through of history and art and pigments and memories and poetry, a record of as many things a colour can be as time & imagination & language allow. it's v beautiful, and it's v sad, and it's v full of love, for colour and for being alive.

“i post a letter to you, dear reader, in a red italian envelope in the little red pillar box at the end of the garden, and watch the postman collect it at four pm in his red van. italian business envelopes are always red. URGENT, they say. our brown ones sneak in unnoticed.

i wrote this book in an absence of time. if i have overlooked something you hold precious – write it in the margin. i write all over my books, as markers fall out. i had to write quickly as my right eye was put out in august by the ‘sight oh! megalo virus’ … and then it was a run-in with the dark. and dark always comes after light. i wrote the red on a hospital drip, and dedicate it to the doctors and nurses at bart’s. most of it was written at four in the morning, scrawled almost incoherently in the dark until sleep blissfully overtook me. i know that my colours are not yours. two colours are never the same, even if they’re from the same tube. context changes the way we perceive them. i’ve usually used one word to describe a colour, so red remains red with lapses into vermilion or carmine. i’ve placed no colour photos in this book, as that would be a futile attempt to imprison them. how could i be certain that the shade i wanted could be reproduced by the printer? i prefer that the colours should float and take flight in your minds.

derek.

P.S. to be red is to have a colour, not a look. of course an object may look red for a while, like the parthenon in the dying rays of the sun.”

[jake]

written in the year before his death, while his eyesight was deteriorating due to complications from AIDS, chroma is a sensitive elaboration on colour, across history (both long and personal) and cultures, and all of the complications and contradictions in how colours come to mean, and how our lives come to mean through colour. jarman sketches out how our lives are breathed through with colour, marking it as deeply personal and political. his meditations on each different colour bring in diverse voices from across different time periods, mediums, and disciplines to create a polyvocal text brimming with new revelations on the familiar. it is a really touching account of the importance of something so taken for granted and so easily disregarded, but which touches and inflects how we live our lives, especially reinforced in the text by the interruptions of jarman's illness, and the systemic and institutional queerphobia effecting himself and our community, and the connection of colour to these things. there's a lot to consider and parts of it i didn't take it as easily but i thoroughly enjoyed reading this.

[Carole Morin]

Philosophical, poetic and witty meditation on colour.

'Silver is for the night.'

'Only the Empress is allowed to wear yellow.'

Diana Vreeland's 'pink is the navy blue of India' is missing. Maybe too obvious for Jarman.

[Eamon Hughes]

The most unique book I’ve ever read - although I can’t put my finger on what makes this stand out particularly, I know that this is a book that has changed my perspective and thinking on colour forever.

[Andrew H]

A fascinating personal essay on colour, one that only an artist could write and one that only Jarman would see!

[Emily Chapman]

Very sad and messy and beautiful!!!!!!

[Isla]

這本很像作者對各種顏色的自由聯想，在當中可以感受到他深厚的文學和藝術底蘊。

很多時候讀起來前後不太連貫，而偶爾作者講的人事物都認識的時候在行文間會感受到一幕一幕場景浮出來，難到這就是導演腦袋運作的方式（？

當中好幾度作者以顏色形容描寫自己在罹患愛滋病時情緒上與身體上的感受，非常真實揪心🥲

電影式散文（自己亂取名）加上美美書籍裝訂設計，總體來說是很特別的閱讀體驗～

[isabella]

biased because of the way i read this (i love u t so so much) but yes good lovely

[Joey McCloskey-Caballero]

Highly referencial art faggotry meets AIDS memoir. I love! Need to reread in like a year.

Are newer editions printed with an appendix? Bc I had to give up searching things half way through