Dancing Ledge: Journals vol. 1

by Derek Jarman

'What started as a book on the frustration of funding led to the writing of an autobiography at forty... I had so little to do in the daylight hours, I stayed up late unbuttoning Levis in back rooms.'In 1984 at the age of 40, the polymath film-maker Derek Jarman began to write his journals. In the first of these diaries, Dancing Ledge, we see his origins as a young artist, written with Jarman's distinctive immediacy, curiosity, and candour. Behind-the-scenes of his first controversial films and stage designs, at glamorous launch parties with friends like David Hockney, Ossie Clarke and Patrick Proktor, to the trials of securing funding, Dancing Ledge is a coming-of-age memoir for all fledgling artists.Dancing Ledge also chronicles a unique time in British history, capturing gay nightlife from the end of the war to the beginning of the AIDS epidemic.

Genres: Nonfiction, Queer, Memoir, Film, LGBT, Biography

186 pages, Kindle Edition

First published January 1, 1984

About the author

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

Reviews

[mark monday · Rating 3 out of 5]

at-times absorbing chronicle by the king of cinematic queer outsiders. derek just didn't give a shit about what anyone thought! although he's not just a rebel and a subjective chronicler of his own film work... there are many moments of awkward tenderness and surprising horniness to keep the attention from wandering too much.

here's a list of some of his films ranked from favorite to I suppose least favorite, because who doesn't like lists:

Caravaggio
Sebastiane
War Requiem
The Last of England
The Angelic Conversation
Jubilee (featuring Adam Ant! and more cast surprises)
The Tempest

he also gets many extra snaps for doing the set design for Ken Russell's phenomenal The Devils.

[Iain · Rating 4 out of 5]

I knew Derek as a casual friend for close to 18 years. Dancing Ledge is the first of his memoirs I've read; 30 years after his death seemed like a good enough length to wait without my impressions of him being coloured by others. I never doubted his eloquence or sense of humour; the impish way he'd act when he wanted to get his point across was endearing. Like most people, however, there were many sides to his character.
His childhood spent in Pakistan with his parents and sister sounded idyllic and truly romantic; I get the impression it was probably the happiest time of his life. I wish he'd made a film about the experience.
He couldn't have chosen a more liberating decade than the 70s to have branched into filmmaking. It was a defining era for art, music, and film, and Jarman hugged it voraciously.
This memoir, his first, was initially published in 1984. It comprises vignettes and diary entries that deal mainly with the dramas attached to his film work and the collaborations he forged through it. Fraught with setbacks, lack of finances, and scolding reviews all lay heavy on his mind.
When reading the book, one irritant was how the narrative jumps (like a needle on a record) from year to year but not necessarily in corresponding order. I had to keep refocusing to keep things orderly.
In chapter X, as no doubt the X -[-rated] -is meant to signify, he touches upon his sexuality and what was looming ahead, preempting what we now realise was his fait accompli.
Now that his books have been reissued [Vintage Jarman], I shall read more of his work.

[John Anthony · Rating 3 out of 5]

Journal/autobiography to 1983 (first published 1984, reprinted 1991). 250+ pages packed with information (almost too much)!

The book is beautifully produced with some superb photographs. But it was not the satisfying/rounded read of Modern Nature: fascinating in parts, at other times a bit of a slog.

Multi-talented, largely penniless artist through whom we meet so many people, the famous, the infamous and both.

I loved the little I read here of his mum: Jarman once overheard her say to his father: “Thank goodness our children aren’t normal. They are much more interesting than their friends”.

I’ve recently been on a bit of a Jarman pilgrimage – Dungeness and DJ’s Prospect Cottage there – an absorbing tardis of a home and well worth a visit and then his grave in St Clement’s churchyard, Old Romney.

(Dancing Ledge – a natural shelf of flat rock jutting out to sea, part of the Jurassic coast near Langton Matravers, Dorset of which DJ was very fond and where he spent much time).

[Katy Wheatley · Rating 5 out of 5]

A selection of diary entries and autobiographical sections, largely centred around Jarman's shift into film making. The book opens with his attempts to get Caravaggio onto the screen in the early Eighties and moves back and forth in time from there, to his childhood and back. It is interesting to see his development from being a painter at The Slade, to creating film and opera sets and eventually creating his own films and taking up painting again. I love Jarman and for me, his words are as much art as any painting or film he ever made. He had a unique way of seeing the world and an innate facility to communicate it to others, no matter what medium he chose to work in. Entwined in his work practice are his loves and passions, both for people and ideas, that sustained him throughout his life. His account of the gay club scene at the end of the book, casually mentions AIDS and the lines: 'I decide I'm in the firing-line and make an adjustment - prepare myself for the worst - decide on caution rather than celibacy, and worry a little about my friends.' is a devastating nod to the fate that awaited him.

[Hennie Lowe · Rating 3 out of 5]

I would add half a star. I started writing a review earlier but I forgot to finish it and now it’s gone forever.. I can’t be bothered to try to repeat exactly what I said. In short: have mixed feelings. Jarman comes across to me as slightly snobby and uppity. He strongly dislikes modern art + architecture. To him the renaissance + everything «classical» is art at its best. Maybe it’s silly but this rubs me the wrong way knowing he’s from quite a rich middleclass British family.

Quote from the last chapter that I both like and dislike:

«All art is dead, especially modern art. Only when art is demoted to the ranks again, treated as nothing remarkable, will our culture start to breathe.»

… I think I agree with the fact that art today is too institutionalized and separate from our lives (put on a pedestal and locked away in museums) but I don’t like his tone! It’s too black and white

[Nicole Atkinson · Rating 5 out of 5]

nostalgic for a period I never even knew!

Imagine knowing David Hockney and Patti Smith on a first name basis. Also Jarman is a massive hater at heart, who knew! i love!

[mort reini · Rating 3 out of 5]

mainly being unfamiliar with British and American cinema of the 70-80th, I could grasp about 2% of related things. but I still appreciated the simple and honest writing style and a peek into the queer environment of those times through Jarman's lenses.
note for the next book: binge-read this one and realized it isn’t the best way to approach Jarman’s texts. they’re more of a ‘pick up from time to time as if talking to an old close friend of yours with whom you don’t need formalities and can go through any topic’ type

[Harry McDonald · Rating 4 out of 5]

Extra star awarded for an unexpected Patti Smith cameo.

[Henry Ward · Rating 4 out of 5]

I wanted to read Modern Nature and realised it was the second volume of published diaries so started with this. It was a compelling read…though the jumping around from different periods in his life felt quite forced at times and I wasn’t committed

[Bence Néveri · Rating 5 out of 5]

Reading about his mother’s death is very dark and sweet

[Luke · Rating 3 out of 5]

Probably my least favourite of his collected writings, although that says very little as he remains one of the artists I hold in the highest regard.
This is a surprisingly sexless recollection, although that's perhaps to be expected given his tumultuous relationship with his early sexuality. Still, Derek is Derek — still sharp, still disillusioned (even from a young age) by the stifling, tight lipped society which surrounded him.

[Jericho · Rating 5 out of 5]

“Film is the wedding of light and matter—an alchemical conjunction...”
—Derek Jarman
💙👏👏👏

[Phil Rhys Thomas · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is Derek's first diary and a welcome introduction to a world we get to know well in his subsequent journals, which span from the boredom and the penury of film-funding rounds to the ridiculous glamour of parties with first-name friends like David... Hockney. In between the who/where/when, we're also given a glimpse of the ultra-prescient comments and observations that become a trademark in later volumes (tossed in between the everyday for devastating effect), and a feel for what gay nightlife was like in 80s London – accompanied as it was by a new illness and a sense of foreboding that almost wiped a community out.

[Marlo · Rating 3 out of 5]

i don't find jarman a thrilling writer of prose, but i did enjoy the insight into the production of his films (which i do find thrilling) a lot, and into the lifestyle he maintained in making them, as well as the peppering of gossip and interest in the work of those around him. the arrogant and severe grousing can become more tedious than convincing at times, and the more general diaristic tangents also but there are in this book thankfully few of the later. it is mostly about art

[Katy]

this was definitely a light read in that it made me sigh wistfully and daydream about living in a warehouse and filming scantily clad men in Italy. i'd probably get more out of it if I actually watched his movies. I also couldn't shake a suspicion about the overwhelming whiteness of his projects but maybe, hopefully i'll be proven wrong by actually watching the movies/reading more about his work.

[Esther · Rating 4 out of 5]

Such good writing, such interesting times and now I need to watch more of his films.