Добре дошли в света на един Художник. Запознайте се с него. Можете да се сприятелите, да му се ядосате, дори да поплачете заедно. Защото той събира в едно Дон Кихот, Дядо Коледа и Фауст. Той е жизнерадостен шейсетинагодишен уличен художник, който живее в Париж. Творчеството му носи невероятно удоволствие, а всеки нов ден го среща с неповторими образи - случайни минувачи, студенти, проститутки, рокери...
William Wharton (7 November 1925 - 29 October 2008), the pen name of the author Albert William Du Aime (pronounced as doo-EM), was an American-born author best known for his first novel Birdy, which was also successful as a film.
Wharton was born in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. He graduated from Upper Darby High School in 1943, and was inducted into the school's Wall of Fame in 1997. He volunteered to serve in the United States Army during World War II, and was assigned to serve in a unit to be trained as engineers. He ended up being assigned to serve in the infantry and was severely wounded in the Battle of the Bulge. After his discharge, he attended the University of California, Los Angeles and received a undergraduate degree in art and a doctorate in psychology, later teaching art in the Los Angeles Unified School District.
His first novel Birdy was published in 1978 when he was more than 50 years old. Birdy was a critical and popular success, and Alan Parker directed a film version starring Nicolas Cage and Matthew Modine. After the publication of Birdy and through the early 1990s, Du Aime published eight novels, including Dad and A Midnight Clear, both of which were also filmed, the former starring Jack Lemmon.
Many of the protagonists of Wharton's novels, despite having different names and backgrounds, have similar experiences, attitudes, and traits that lead one to presume that they are partly autobiographical[citation needed]. There is precious little certifiable biography available about Wharton / Du Aime. He served in France and Germany in World War II in the 87th Infantry Division, was a painter, spent part of his adult life living on a houseboat as an artist in France, raised several children (not all of whom appreciated his philosophy of child-rearing), is a reasonably skilled carpenter and handyman, and has suffered from profound gastrointestinal problems.
In 1988, Wharton's daughter, Kate; his son-in-law, Bert; and their two children, two-year-old Dayiel and eight-month-old Mia, were killed in a horrific 23-car motor vehicle accident near Albany, Oregon, that was caused by the smoke generated by grass-burning on nearby farmland. In 1995, Wharton wrote a (mostly) non-fiction book, Ever After: A Father's True Story, in which he recounts the incidents leading up to the accident, his family's subsequent grief, and the three years he devoted to pursuing redress in the Oregon court system for the field-burning that caused the accident. Houseboat on Seine, a memoir, was published in 1996, about Wharton's purchase and renovation of a houseboat.
It is worth to be noted that he gained an enormous and very hard to be explained popularity in Poland, which was followed by many editions as well as meetings and, eventually, some works prepared and edited only in Polish.
Wharton died on October 29, 2008 of an infection he contracted while being hospitalized for blood-pressure problems.
„Да се вгледаш в себе си е може би най-трудното и същевременно най-благодатното нещо, което можеш да направиш.“
Уортън умее да създава изкуство не само на платно, но и чрез писането си – прави го умело, с прецизно нанасяне на тънък слой от думи, с които поставя основата на романа. Смекчава контурите с финия си стил, за да се получи един завършен разказ за живота на твореца – историята на художника, „свиващ гнезда" в Париж.
Малкото, според Уортън, което знае за рисуването, сам придобива от „четене, гледане и копиране." В продължение на години той прекарва парижките си сутрини в Лувъра, където черпи вдъхновение от големите майстори - Рембранд, Тициан, Веласкес, Гоя, чувствайки ги много по-близки, отколкото приятелите, които действително има около себе си. Среща се, разговаря, дори флиртува със странни и различни хора ежедневно, всеки със своите грижи и терзания. А той, художникът, изслушва изповедта им спокойно като свещеник.
Такова удоволствие бе да обикалям с този вече побелял симпатяга по улиците на френската столица, да забърквам заедно с него магически смеси, ставайки част от процеса по създаване на картините му. Да се докосна до философията, чувството за хумор и приятната му самоирония, до самотата, която остава вярна до него през годините. Понякога пътят на твореца е труден, отегчителен, довежда дори до ръба. Необходим е баланс, за да не пропадне, а само с четка в ръка може да се избави от капана на изплъзващото се време. Има и моменти, когато художникът се чувства задръстен, изгубен, а вдъхновението сякаш избледнява, но все пак той успява да намери отново себе си, да открие мотивация и нова енергия, с които да продължи да прави това, което му носи най-голямо удоволствие и което осмисля живота му - да рисува.
Много ми допада как и в тази книга, по един непринуден начин, Уортън успява да накара читателя да се почувства като част от историята. Толкова е искрен, разкривайки най-деликатните кътчета от душата си, в които пази грешките и съжаленията, болките, които е трупал през годините, вината за това, че е наранявал хората около себе си.
Интересен финал. ; )
„Никой не желае онова, което притежава. Предполагам, това е същността на живота."
Една от любимите ми книги на Уортън. Може би защото тук главният герой беше по-ведър (въпреки мислите за напредването на възрастта) и „неувреден” от войната като героите в някои от другите книги на Уортън. А може би защото става въпрос за другата ми страст – рисуването. По много приятен начин е описан творческият процес, страхотна е парижката атмосфера, много близки ми бяха разсъжденията на Художника и леката му самоирония.
Искаше ми се да прочета тази книга преди "Последна любов", не успях. Въпреки това, Уортън не е изневерил на стила си да представя героите /себе си!/ като истински живи характери - със силините и слабите им страни. Превъзходна книга!
I've read all of this author's books. He's best known for "Birdy" which was made into a movie. I wrote him a letter years ago about how great his writing is. He responded with a 2 page letter from his home in France. I was touched. This particular novel appealed to me because I've been doing artwork all my life. This is one crazy story! What an absolutely wild imagination he has. The reader is inside Scumblers head painting on the streets of Paris. You have to strap yourself in because his head is wild! You may be offended, pissed off, but he never stops his rants! He is always thinking of his next painting, his next project and although he can be crude he is also sensitive and intelligent. He's learning how to live at being an older man and his thoughts about this are profound. You will laugh, maybe throw the book across the room but you will be entertained and perhaps give pause to some of his inner thoughts. This is truly as we used to say in the 60's a real "mind trip"!
I fell hard and fast for William Wharton after reading "Birdy" and, then, "A Midnight Clear." But "Scumbler," about a Paris street artist, was like artwork I just didn't get. I can see the talent there, but it doesn't invite me in. This may sound strange, but "Scumbler" reminded me of the insular drama club of high school play casts. There's us, and then there's them. I'm one of them, I'm not hip enough to be on the inside, and I couldn't finish this ride. Read "Birdy" and "A Midnight Clear" instead.
It is a book I am almost finished with & wish were longer. Amazing interior life of a painter (Wharton himself was a painter before being a writer -- BIRDY was his first novel). You read and feel as if you are standing at the easel with him, doing portraits or streetscapes or buildings as persona...all in Paris. Wonderful read. I used to paint...many paintings actually. One self portrait I did 50+ years ago was great to think about as I read Wharton's moving piece about a self portrait. The first one he painted the brush in his left hand, as the mirror reflection was his "model"...the second one he relates painting he changed the brush to his right hand in the painting. There is something profound about his hints at the difference between a live model and a reflection of self. Amazing man, honest and true.
I've come across quite a lot of reviews saying "Scumbler" is boring and it blows my mind. There's so much going on in this novel! I, personally, enjoyed it. I found it interesting that the protagonist seems likeable at first as he's far from perfect and comes across as a rather selfish individual when you give it more thought.
Bardzo interesujący i porywający portret pewnego malarza. Opisywana przez niego rzeczywistość miesza się z faktami a jego własnymi fantazjami. Płynie się przez myśli bohatera razem z nim. Książka ma w sobie elementy wybitnie poetyckie ale również brzydotę, które opisują życie. Wstawki poetyckie genialne.
the story looks simple,the voice of the painter and writer sounds similar to the one of Wharton himself.It sounds like a story-diary about inner reflectoions, thoughts about meaning of life, destiny, love and the pleasure of painting. The first pages don`t bring much new "food" to the reader, but the last have some chaotic thoughts about life, which could make you realize something.The book is not very impressive all in all, but if you like details, if are found of bio-like writings and pop-art writing style,for realism and expressionistic views, you may enjoy it.It is easy for reading, some chapters sound too private to be shared, which had taste of raw writing notes, far away from literature. No maatter of the "truth". Fiction should be fiction in its sound. ~nour
This was a surprisingly charming novel. An expat in Paris creates art and inventive living spaces in Left Bank neighborhoods, giving the reader a glimpse at the lives of the locals you can't usually find in novels. A great read if you're a painter, a francophile, or have dreamed of living in the mystical city of Paris.
I read this a few years back, but I still remember it with a smile and would recommend to anyone enjoys simple, but touching stories.
Stands out in my mind primarily for its structure as a vignt-tryptych: 23 independent yet interlocking, hinged canvasses.
Sometimes hard to plow through, but there are also some passages of great linguistic strength and zest. I'd probably be setting this one next to Zorba The Greek, hoping they'd have a conversation.