I Stood Watching the Shadowy Fish ... Notes on the First Line of D. H. Lawrence's 'The White Peacock'

  

I. 

 

The opening line from Lawrence's debut novel, The White Peacock (1911), reads: 

 

"I stood watching the shadowy fish slide through the gloom of the mill-pond." [1]  

 

It is spoken by Cyril Beardsall; a fairly obvious self-characterisation, even if Lawrence cannot be completely identified with the (artistically inclined but somewhat priggish) narrator of his novel. 

 

Cyril is as enchanted by the intense stillness of the water as he is by the grey-silvery fish and the manner in which the entire scene was "gathered in the musing of old age" [2]. 

 

 

II. 

 

Now, a Heideggerian critic might be tempted to suggest that Cyril knows what it is to not merely inhabit a space and reflect upon it like one of those moon-like philosophers whom Zarathustra condemns [3]. 

 

That he knows how to dwell in the world; i.e., to form a deep and meaningful relationship with all the various elements of his environment, in this case, fish, gloom, water, stillness, and temporality.     

 

For Heidegger, dwelling is a fundamental aspect of Dasein that allows men and women to exist as mortals beneath the sky, upon the earth, and in the presence of gods.  

 

But whilst it allows connection and interrelationship, dwelling is not a way for us to project ourselves into all things; i.e., it's not a form of existential narcissism and Cyril is not merely admiring his own reflection in the mill-pond and desiring to become one with it.   

 

 

III. 

 

Finally, it's interesting to compare the opening of Lawrence's first novel with one of his early poems, 'The Wild Common', whose setting and situation are somewhat similar.

 

In this poem, the young male narrator observes his own reflection on the surface of a pond: "Naked on the steep, soft lip / Of the bank I stand watching my own white shadow quivering to and fro" [4]. 

 

It is only after he plunges naked into the water that he fully appreciates how the natural world has physical reality that is not dependent upon his perception and understanding of it: "Oh but the water loves me and folds me / Plays with me, sways me, lifts me and sinks me ..." [5] 

 

And that it is his self, in fact, which has no substantial reality apart from the world of flowers, sunlight, and pulsing waters.  

 

 

Notes

 

[1] D. H. Lawrence, The White Peacock, ed. Andrew Robertson (Cambridge University Press, 1983), p. 1. 

 

[2] Ibid. 

 

[3] In Thus Spoke Zarathustra, Nietzsche critiques the concept of immaculate perception (i.e., the mistaken idea that we are capable of pure knowledge and a detached, moon-like contemplation of the world free of all desire; emasculated leering, as he calls it). See the section entitled 'Of Immaculate Perception' in part two of Zarathustra.    

 

[4] D. H. Lawrence, 'The Wild Common' - click here to read online. 

      Note that this is the original version of the verse, written c. 1905-06 and published in Amores (1916). Lawrence later revised it for his Collected Poems (1928), adding new material and finally saying what it was he had started to say (incoherently in his view) when he first wrote it as a young man. This final version can be found in The Poems, Vol. I., ed. Christopher Pollnitz (Cambridge University Press, 2013), pp. 5-6.

      For a critical reading of 'The Wild Common', see the first chapter of M. J. Lockwood's, A Study of the Poems of D. H. Lawrence: Thinking in Poetry, (Palgrave Macmillan, 1987). 

 

[5] D. H. Lawrence, 'The Wild Common'. 

 

 

Why Growing Up is So Problematic for an Artist

@artstoheartsproject 

(Instagram 3 July 2025)

 

'The first half of life is learning to be an adult and the second half is learning to be a child.' [1] 

 

 

I. 

 

The above cartoon is funny, as Homer would say, because it's true. 

 

Or, at the very least, it touches upon an idea that might possibly be true; namely, that in order to be an artist one must retain some quality (or qualities) associated with childhood.   

 

It's an idea worth investigating further, I think ... 

 

 

II. 

 

I have always remembered an interview with Sid Vicious in which he adamantly insists that he doesn't want to be a grown up and that he and his bandmates are, essentially, just a bunch of kids. According to many people's favourite Sex Pistol: 

 

"When somebody stops being a kid, they stop being aware. It doesn't matter how old you are; you can be ninety-nine and still be a kid. And as long as you're a kid, you're aware and you know what's happening. But as soon as you grow up ... The definition of a grown up is someone who catches on to things when kids discard them." [2] 

 

That, as Jules would say, is an interesting point. 

 

And I suspect it was genuinely Sid's own view, though it also reflects the thinking of the Sex Pistols' manager Malcolm McLaren, who encouraged his young charges to be everything this society hates and by which he primarily meant childish, irresponsible, and disrespectful. 

 

This countercultural philosophy, first conceived by McLaren at art school in the 1960s, was central to punk as it developed in the UK in the 1970s. 

 

For Malcolm, like Sid, being a grown up meant conformity, compromise, and complacency. Being a child, on the other hand, meant remaining open to new ideas and experiences and viewing the world with wonder and a certain innocence - traits that also define an artist (at least in the minds of those who think of art as being more than a matter of paint on canvas).         

 

 

III.

 

Innocence: it's a word that Nietzsche uses in relation to his concept of becoming-child [3]. But it's not one I usually associate with D. H. Lawrence. 

 

However, Lawrence does occasionally speak in favour of naïveté and of the need for an artist to be pure in spirit; which doesn't mean being good in a traditional moral sense of the term, but having a supremely delicate awareness of the world and dwelling in a state of delight [4]. 

 

And Lawrence does say that a combination of innocence + naïveté + modesty might return some young writers and painters not merely to childhood, but to a prenatal condition; i.e., ready to be born into a new golden age.

 

For regression to the foetal state must surely, says Lawrence, be a prelude to something positive:

 

"If the innocence and naïveté as regards artistic expression doesn't become merely idiotic, why shouldn't it become golden?" [5]  

 

 

IV. 

 

Astute readers will note Lawrence's concern in that last line quoted above: there is always the possibility that innocence and naïveté don't result in artistic greatness, but, rather, in idiocy and what Lawrence thinks of as arrested development. 

 

And let's be clear: push comes to shove, Lawrence - like Nietzsche, but unlike McLaren and Vicious - doesn't reject adulthood. 

 

On the contrary, he values it above childhood and whilst he may value the positive qualities associated with children, he loathes those adults who behave in a manner that he regards as immature or infantile and dearly wishes they would grow up and put away childish things (as Paul would say). 

 

Referring to novelists, for example, who, in his view, are overly self-conscious, Lawrence writes: 

 

"It really is childish, after a certain age, to be absorbedly self-conscious. One has to be self-conscious at seventeen: still a little self-conscious at twenty-seven; but if we are going at it strong at thirty-seven, then it is a sign of arrested development, nothing else. And if it is still continuing at forty-seven, it is obvious senile precocity." [6]    

 

Such people, says Lawrence - and in many ways I'm one of them - who "drag their adolescence on into their forties and their fifties and their sixties" [7] and either can't or won't grow up, need some kind of medical help [8].  

 

  

Notes

 

[1] This is one of several well-known quotes attributed to Picasso on the relationship between art and childhood. Others include: 'Every child is an artist: the problem is how to remain an artist once we grow up' and 'It took me four years to paint like Raphael, but a lifetime to paint like a child.'

 

[2] Sid Vicious interviewed by Judy Vermorel in 1977 for The Sex Pistols, a book compiled and edited by Fred and Judy Vermorel, originally published in January 1978 by Universal Books. 

      To listen to Vicious sharing his views on this question, please click here. Sid also speaks frankly, honestly, and directly to his fans from 'Beyond the Grave' on Some Product: Carri On Sex Pistols (Virgin Records, 1979) and confidently asserts that just as you can be ninety-nine and still be a kid, so too can you be a grown up at sixteen: click here. 

 

[3] See, for example, 'Of the Three Metamorphoses' in part one of Thus Spoke Zarathustra, the third and final stage of which is becoming-child and the entering into a second innocence. 

 

[4] See D. H. Lawrence 'Making Pictures', in Late Essays and Articles, ed. James T. Boulton (Cambridge University Press, 2004), pp. 230-231.

 

[5] D. H. Lawrence, 'Introduction to These Paintings', Late Essays and Articles, p. 217.

 

[6] D. H. Lawrence, 'The Future of the Novel', in Study of Thomas Hardy and Other Essays, ed. Bruce Steele (Cambridge University Press, 1985), p. 152. Senile precocity is not a recognised medical condition and seems to have been coined as a term by Lawrence in this essay.  

 

[7] Ibid., p. 153.   

 

[8] This condition - increasingly widespread - is often referred to in popular psychology as Peter Pan Syndrome and is associated with the work of Dan Kiley; see his 1983 text, The Peter Pan Syndrome: Men Who Have Never Grown Up. 

      Note that whilst Peter Pan Syndrome is not recognised by the World Health Organization - nor listed in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders - it has a significant overlap with narcissistic personality disorder.

 

 

On the Death of Rudolph Valentino

Rudolph Valentino being mourned as he lies in state at the 

Frank E. Campbell Funeral Chapel (August 1926) 

 

 

I.

 

A century on, and the name Rudolph Valentino has now largely been forgotten by movie goers; today, Timothée Chalamet is the young good-looking actor hailed by members of Gen Z as a sex symbol and fashion icon.    

 

Having said that, there are still some fans of the Latin Lover devoted to his memory and insistent on the fact that whilst Rudy may no longer be universally recognised, he remains an iconic figure whose place in the cultural imagination is assured. 

 

For not only do his films continue to be screened, but books and articles (and blog posts such as this one) continue to be written about his life - and, indeed, his death which, as we shall see, caused mass hysteria and revealed just how insane - but powerful - the cult of celebrity was to become in the modern era, driven by the entertainment industry and mass media.  

 

 

II.

 

On August 15th, 1926, Valentino collapsed at a hotel in NYC. 

 

He was hospitalised and, following an examination, underwent emergency surgery for a perforated stomach ulcer mistaken at first for appendicitis [1].  

 

All seemed to go well and his doctor's were optimistic that the young man would make a full recovery. Unfortunately, however, that wasn't to be: first he developed peritonitis (inflammation of the lining of the wall of the abdomen); then he developed pleuritis (inflammation of the lining surrounding the lungs and chest cavity). 

 

Both conditions are extremely painful: and both can be fatal. 

 

As his condition worsened - and sepsis set in - the initial optimism of his doctors was replaced with the growing realisation that he was going to die (although they said nothing to the press and Valentino himself seemed convinced he would soon recover and chatted with the medical staff about his future plans). 

 

On 23 August, Valentino lapsed into a coma and died a few hours later. He was aged 31.   

 

 

III.

 

Valentino's death triggered some extraordinary scenes; over 100,000 people lined the streets of Manhattan to pay their respects on the day of his funeral and there were reports of distraught female fans committing suicide. 

 

There was even a riot in New York the day after his death, as people fought to view the body lying in state with their own eyes (for some believed the story of Valentino's death had, as they say, been greatly exaggerated; others, that it was entirely false). A large number of extra police were needed to restore order.  

 

The Polish actress and singer Pola Negri - a huge star at that time known for her tragic roles and femme fatale persona - perhaps sensing the career opportunity of a lifetime, collapsed crying in hysterics at the funeral. Claiming to be Valentino's secret fiancée, she also had a floral arrangement spelling out her name placed on his coffin, to the irritation of many of his friends [2]. 

 

(It seems that the four actors in black-shirted uniform hired by the funeral home director Frank Campbell to impersonate a Fascist guard of honour - supposedly sent from Italy by Mussolini himself - did nothing to restrain her.) 

 

As Valentino had made no burial arrangements, his friend June Mathis offered a crypt that she had originally purchased for her ex-husband at the Hollywood Memorial Park Cemetery and it's here he has remained.  

 

And every year, on the anniversary of Valentino's death, a mysterious Woman in Black arrives by chauffeur-driven car to place a bunch of red roses on his tomb and dab daintily at her eyes with a black-bordered handkerchief, before departing [3]. 

  

 

Notes

 

[1] This condition - in which a perforated peptic ulcer causes right lower quadrant abdominal pain, mimicking appendicitis - is now known in the medical world as Valentino's syndrome.

 

[2] It's true that Miss Negri and Valentino had been in a romantic relationship shortly before his death, but there is no evidence they were secretly engaged and, if they were, it was not something he had mentioned to anyone. 

      Interestingly, for the rest of her life - and she died aged 90, in August 1987 - she claimed Valentino had been the love of her life - and not Charlie Chaplin with whom she'd also had a widely-publicised love affair in 1922-23; this despite the fact that D. H. Lawrence insisted that there was greater essential beauty in Chaplin's odd face than Valentino's stereotypically handsome features; see the essay 'Sex Appeal' in Lawrence's Late Essays and Articles, ed. James T. Boulton (CUP, 2004). And see also the post in which I discuss this essay and the relationship between Lawrence and Valentino: click here.     

 

[3] Several myths surround the thickly-veiled Woman in Black. Probably, the idea was originally a publicity stunt dreamed up by Valentino's former press agent Russel Birdwell in 1928, but it is now a rather lovely tradition kept alive by fans, cinephiles, and movie historians.  

 

 

D. H. Lawrence and Rudolph Valentino: the Priest of Love Versus the Latin Lover

Messrs. Lawrence (1885-1930) and Valentino (1895-1926) 

 

Oh Mister Rudolph Valentino / I know I've got the Valentino blues  

And when you come up on the screen / Oh! You're so romantic, I go frantic at the views [1]

 

 

I. 

 

Like many men at the time [2], D. H. Lawrence was not a fan of cinema's greatest male sex symbol of the silent era, Rudolph Valentino, the so-called Latin Lover [3]:

 

"We think ... a handsome man must look like Rudolf Valentino. ... But ... there is a greater essential beauty in Charlie Chaplin's odd face than there ever was in Valentino's ... which only pleases because it satisfies some ready-made notion of handsomeness." [4]

 

 

II.  

 

As the above quote makes clear, Lawrence dislikes Valentino because he thinks the latter reinforces a stereotypical ideal of beauty. 

 

But he also accuses actors cast in the same mold as Valentino of counterfeit emotion and of stimulating such in their audience. In a poem written about his experience at the cinema, for example, Lawrence jeers at the black-and-white feelings and fake ecstasies pretended by those who moan with pleasure when watching close-up kisses on a screen [5].

 

One suspects that, just as he thinks Valentino's sex appeal to be essentialy false, Lawrence might also have cast doubt on the actor's masculinity if given the chance to do so and may even have agreed with the attack upon him by the Chicago Tribune in the so-called 'Pink Powder Puffs' controversy ....

 

 

III.   

 

There had long been those who had called Valentino's manliness and, by unspoken implication, his heterosexuality into question. 

 

Some all-American boys - fair of face and blue of eye - felt threatened by his dark good looks and strange foreign manner; particularly as these things clearly excited the all-American girl. Anti-Italian racism was not uncommon at this time and if wops could also be seen as effeminate as well as criminal and foolish, then that was all the more reason to despise them. 

 

Thus, Valentino's critics repeatedly pointed to his pomaded hair, his dandyish dress sense, and the misogyny that seemed to underlie his treatement of women. 

 

This abuse came to a peak - whilst paradoxically hitting a new low - when an editorial in the Chicago Tribune concerning the installation of a facial powder dispenser in a gentleman's washroom at one of the city's leading hotels, decried the feminization of American men and pinned the blame for this on Valentino and his movies. 

 

The article, published on 18 July 1926, so infuriated Valentino that he challenged the anonymous writer to a fight [6]. As this challenge was not taken up, Valentino sought advice from others, including the writer H. L. Mencken, on how else to respond to such an infamous libel [7].    

 

Unfortunately, however, Valentino didn't get the chance to take matters any further; for he was to die in hospital following surgery the following month, aged just 31.  

 

 

IV.

 

Since his premature death in August 1926 [8], rumours have continued to circulate regarding Valentino's sexuality; was he secretly homosexual; was he bi-curious; or - as the evidence suggests and his recent biographers [9] conclude - was he in fact a genuine lover of the ladies, with no desire to suck cock ...?  

 

Who knows? 

 

And these days, who cares? Thankfully, a man can now present another man with an art deco dildo without everyone rushing to judgement, or speculating as to what such a gift reveals about that person's orientation or sexual preferences.  

 

Even Lawrence, who may not have been a fan of Valentino's - and often addressed questions around gender and sexuality in a way that many might now find problematic to say the least - conceded that the most girlish looking men often have "the finest maleness, once it is put to the test" [10]. 

 

 

Don't you ever stop being dandy  

showing me you're handsome [11]

 

 

 

Notes

 

[1] Lyrics from 'Rodolph Valentino Blues', by Jack Frost (published by Jack Mills Inc., 1922). For a recent version of the song uploaded to YouTube by valentinolover70, click here. 

      Note that the spelling of Valentino's first name is not an error; in February, 1922 Life magazine reported that he would henceforth prefer to be known as Rodolph rather than Rudolph. This semi-Italianised styling of the name seems not to have caught on, however.   

 

[2] As the author of the WordPress blog Rudolph Valentino-Connections writes, Valentino was a target of innuendo, racism, and ridicule almost from the start of his career. In the July 1922 issue of Photoplay, for example, which featured Valentino on the cover, the cartoonist and illustrator Dick Dorgan wrote a piece entitled 'Song of Hate' which asserted that all men hate the actor for his foreign features, including his slicked hair and glistening white teeth. 

      Click here to access the post, which also includes the 'Pink Powder Puffs' editorial in the Chicago Tribune (18 July 1926) which we shall discuss shortly and which declares: 'Better a rule by masculine women than by effeminate men.'     

 

[3] Valentino was born in southern Italy, but arrived in New York in December 1913, aged 18. Although eligible - and despite becoming a Hollywood icon thanks to his exceptional good looks, personal charm, and unique talent - he never completed an application for US citizenship. 

       Undoubtedly the role that defined not only Valentino's career but his image and legacy, was that of Ahmed Ben Hassan in The Sheik (dir. George Melford, 1921) - much to his own irritation.  

 

[4] D. H. Lawrence, 'Sex Appeal', in Late Essays and Articles, ed. James T. Boulton (Cambridge University Press, 2004), pp. 145-146. 

      What Valentino thought of Lawrence's looks is not, as far as I know, on record. But, interestingly, Clark Gable - the actor promoted as Valentino's successor after the latter's untimely death in 1926 - named Lawrence as his favourite author. See the article 'Will Gable Take the Place of Valentino', by Gladys Hall, in Movie Classic (November 1931), which can be read on the Clark Gable archive site dearmrgable.com: click here.   

 

[5] See the poem 'When I went to the film' in D. H. Lawrence, The Poems, Vol. I., ed. Christopher Pollnitz (Cambridge University Press, 2013), p. 385.  

 

[6] Although Valentino didn't get to fight the writer of the Pink Powder Puffs editorial, he did box sports writer Frank ONeill from the New York Evening Journal, who volunteered to fight in place of his colleague from the Chicago Tribune. Valentino - who had been trained by world heavyweight champion Jack Dempsey - won the fight. Afterwards, Dempsey described Valentino as the most virile and masculine of all the actors he had worked with.

 

[7] Mencken, who found Valentino very likeable, advised the latter to simply let the whole thing fizzle out. After Valentino's death - just a month later - Mencken published a sympathetic piece in the Baltimore Sun, in which he claimed that it was not the Chicago episode that really upset Valentino, but the grotesque futility of his life as a famous film star. See H. L. Mencken, 'Valentino', in A Mencken Chrestomathy, (Vintage Books, 1982), pp. 281-284.   

      

[8] Valentino died on 23 August 1926 from infections following surgery for perforated gastric ulcers. A post discussing the extraordinary circumstances surrounding his death and his posthumous life can be read by clicking here.

 

[9] See, for example, Emily W. Leider's biography Dark Lover: The Life and Death of Rudolph Valentino (Faber & Faber, 2003).    

 

[10] D. H. Lawrence, Fantasia of the Unconscious, ed. Bruce Steele (Cambridge University Press, 2004), p. 126. 

 

[11] Lyrics from 'Prince Charming' by Adam and the Ants, a single release from the studio album Prince Charming (CBS, 1981), which reached number 1 in the UK charts. The video for the song, directed Mike Mansfield, famously ends with Adam singing the chorus refrain - ridicule is nothing to be scared of - in the guise of several iconic male figures, including Valentino as Sheik Ahmed Ben Hassan. Click here to play on YouTube.  

 

 

Heads You Lose

 

All compounded things are subject to vanish. [1]

 

 

I. 

 

Pretty much everyone seems to admire those monolithic human figures with giant heads carved from consolidated volcanic ash by the Rapa Nui people on Easter Island [2].

 

Originally, these statues - known as moai - gazed inland, as if to protectively watch over everyone. 

 

But, after they were all toppled - many by Europeans, who began arriving in 1722 - it was decided to stand some of 'em back up again, but positioned so as to stare silently out to sea (almost as if they had been awaiting the arrival of the White Man all along). 

 

 

II. 

 

Anyhoo, it seems that these big tuff heads are not immortal after all and are, in fact, rapidly eroding due to a combination of factors, including rising sea levels, wildfires, and the effects of wind and rain over the years on soft and porous volcanic rock.

 

Local communities and busy-bodies from various heritage organisations are working to restore and protect the statues by cleaning them, applying protective treatments, and implementing measures to mitigate the effects of climate change. 

 

Like King Cnut, they are, however, fighting a losing battle - and, arguably, one that should be lost ... [3]

 

For in my view, the way that a people best sustain their culture is not by artificially preserving their past, but by affirming themselves in the present and projecting new works into the future. Taking excessive pride in one's heritage and history can, as Nietzsche knew, be disadvantageous if you're not careful [4].

 

 

III. 

 

And besides:

 

"We have reached the stage where we are weary of huge stone erections, and we begin to realise that it is better to keep life fluid and changing, than try to hold it fast down in heavy monuments. Burdens on the face of the earth, are man's ponderous erections." [5] 

 

Like Lawrence, I now far prefer small sculptures, carved from wood, that aim to be modest and charming, rather than grand and imposing. 

 

Further, there's also something very beautiful in the thought of the moai returning to the blueness of the Greater Day from which they came; for even stone idols should be as evanescent as flowers [6]. 

 

Notes

 

[1] This statement is from the Mahāparinibbāna Sutta (Sutta 16 in the Dīgha Nikāya) and is considered to be the Buddha's last teaching. It emphasises the concept of impermanence (anicca); a core principle in Buddhism. Compounded things (sankhara) include not only physical objects, but also mental formations, emotions, and even one's sense of self.  

 

[2] Easter Island is remote volcanic island situated 2,170 miles off the coast of Chile in the southeastern Pacific Ocean. It's native name is Rapa Nui. There are roughly 1000 statues on the island in various stages of completion, with about 200 mounted on rectangular stone platforms known as ahu. 

 

[3] In an article on the BBC website entitled 'Is this the end for Easter Island's moai statues? (3 July 2025) - click here - Sofia Quaglia informs us that Rapa Nui community leaders are even considering moving the statues out of harm's way - perhaps housing them in museums - or making 3D scans of them so replicas can be printed at a later date. 

      I have issues with both these options, although it might be noted that several institutions already display cast replicas of moai, including the Natural History Museum of LA County; the American Museum of Natural History; and the Auckland Museum, in New Zealand. As this post makes clear, I'm with those community leaders who argue that erosion is a mysterious natural phenomenon and that the moai should therefore succumb to their elemental fate.

 

[4] See Nietzsche's essay 'On the Uses and Disadvantages of History for Life' (1874) in Untimely Meditations, trans. R. J. Hollingdale (Cambridge University Press, 1983), pp. 57-123.  

      One of the key arguments made by Nietzsche in this text is that an excess of historical awareness can hinder our ability to act and create in the present by making us feel small in the face of past greatness. It's fine when our heritage informs and invigorates the present, but not when we feel oveshadowed by and subservient to our ancestors. 

      Utimately, we need to let go of things and allow even magnificent monuments to crumble into ruin and beautiful artworks to fade away. That's why I feel the way I do about the Easter Island statues and opposed the rebuilding of Notre-Dame de Paris after the fire in 2019: click here. 

 

[5] D. H. Lawrence, 'Sketches of Etruscan Places', in Sketches of Etruscan Places and Other Italian Essays, ed. Simonetta de Filippis (Cambridge University Press, 1992), p. 32.

 

[6] Again, I'm aware that some Rapa Nui locals - and archaeologists - strongly disagree with this way of thinking. For them, the moai have such cultural, historical, and scientific importance that they must be preserved at all costs and by any means possible. The fact that they attract more than a 100,000 visitors to Easter Island each year and tourism has become central to the Rapa Nui economy is also a consideration, of course.

 

 

Thanks to Símón Solomon for suggesting this post.      

 

 

A Brief Note on the Material Basis of Identity by Jazz Griffin

Jazz Griffin: the Invisible Punk

 (SA/2025) [1] 

 

 

I. 

 

A recently published post on the way in which my memory of the past is inextricably interwoven with the suits I was wearing during the different stages of my life [2] has brought me (once more) to the conclusion that clothes do indeed maketh the man ... [3].  

 

I might not go so far as to say that if we went around naked we'd have no memories, no history, no culture, but, on the other hand, it's certainly the case that items of dress (and other personal objects) play a crucial role in anchoring the self and remembering the past. 

 

Having the memory of a goldfish and lacking a strong sense of self, I'm not at all certain I'd recall the people I've met, the places I've been, or the things I've done, were it not for the fact that I still have (some of) the jackets, trousers, shirts, ties, and shoes stuffed in the back of my wardrobe (although diaries, notebooks, and photo albums obviously act as vital aides-mémoire too).

 

Indeed, I'm pretty sure that had you unstrapped the straps, unzipped the zips, and stripped me of the tartan bondage suit I was wearing (aged 21) in the above photo, I'd have vanished before your very eyes, like Jack Griffin as he slowly unwound his bandages [4]. 

 

 

II. 

 

We might conclude, therefore, that just as it's language that speaks us (and not vice versa) [5], so too do our clothes wear us (so to speak) and not the other way round; something which the most philosophical of fashion historians, designers, and researchers interested in enclothed cognition [6] have long appreciated.

 

In other words, our lives are literally fabricated; cut out and stitched together from a pattern like a well-tailored suit and finished with individual details.    

 

 

Notes

 

[1] This image is based on a photo from 1984 in which the model is wearing a tartan bondage suit, seditionaries-style boots, and a McLarenettes Punk It Up T-shirt 

 

[2] See the post entitled 'Suits You, Sir!' (5 July 2025): click here.

 

[3] The idea that clothing plays a crucial role in not only how men and women present themselves to the world and are perceived by others, but in actually constructing identity is, of course, as old as the hills and variations of the phrase clothes maketh the man can be traced back, like most things, to the Ancient Greeks. For those who spoke Latin, like Erasmus, author of a famous collection of proverbs and adages at the beginning of the 16th century, the phrase read: vestis virum facit. 

      Those moralists who think the opposite - i.e., that clothes don't make the man - and who drone on about inner qualities and a person's true character or substance being more important than appearance are, in my view, philosophically naive.

      Readers who are interested in this can click here for a post published on 31 May 2023 that touches on the topic with reference to the coronation of King Charles III. And for a post on how clothes maketh the woman - with reference to the queer case of Nellie March in D. H. Lawence's novella The Fox (1922) - click here.          

 

[4] Jack Griffin is the name of the chemist played by Claude Rains in the 1933 film The Invisible Man, directed by James Whale, and loosely based on the novel of that title by H. G. Wells (1897). Click here for the big reveal scene on YouTube. 

 

[5] This idea of language speaking man is usually attributed to Heidegger. It challenges the traditional view of language as a tool humans use to express themselves by suggesting that the internal logic, structure, and history of language actively shapes our thinking and understanding of the world. See, for example, what he writes in his essay 'Language', in Poetry, Language, Thought, trans. Albert Hofstadter (Harper Perennial, 1975), pp. 189-210. 

 

[6] Enclothed cognition refers to the influence that clothing has on the wearer's thoughts, feelings, actions, and behaviours. The term was coined by Hajo Adam and Adam D. Galinsky who have been experimenting in this area since 2012. See their study in the Journal of Experimental Social Psychology Volume 48, Issue 4, (July 2012), pp. 918-925. The abstract and excerpts from the report can be read here.  

 

 

Finally, readers who want to know more might like to read Memories of Dress: Recollections of Material Identities, ed. Alison Slater, Susan Atkin, and Elizabeth Kealy-Morris (Bloomsbury, 2023). Do note, however,  that I've not yet read this collection of essays, so can't says whether it's worth the RRP of £85 for the hardback edition (or even the RRP of £28.99 for the paperback). 

 

 

Suits You, Sir!

 1984 1992 2006

  

I. 

 

The modern suit - regarded in the early days as informal daywear comprising of jacket, trousers and, if a three-piece, a waistcoat  - has been around since at least the late 19th-century. 

 

Indeed, some fashion scholars trace the history of the suit back to the 17th-century and credit Charles II with being instrumental in bringing together the key components. Others think the main man was Regency dandy Beau Brummel, who helped establish Savile Row as the home of bespoke men's tailoring. 

      

Personally, I tend to think that the suit as we know it owes more to the rise of the Victorian business class and the industrial revolution. And what really interests me is how the suit developed in the 20th-century, particularly in the United States in relation to youth-driven popular culture - but that's a story for another day, another post. 

 

Here, I just want to briefly reflect on the memories triggered by the three suits I can be seen wearing in the image above: the first by Jane Khan, one half of Birmingham's best and brightest designers Khan & Bell; the second from the Italian high-end fashion house of Armani; and the third by punk Dame Vivienne Westwood. 

 

 

II.

 

Kahn & Bell was a fashion label and boutique established by Jane Kahn and Patti Bell in Hurst Street, Birmingham, in 1976; much loved by those who simply had to dress up in order to mess up.

 

By the mid-'80s, however, they'd decided to go their separate ways and Khan sans Bell was trading at the Great Gear Market [1] under the brand name of Khaniverous. 

 

And it was at Khaniverous, in April 1984, that I bought my first suit; a loud and colourful check design featuring a teddy boy style jacket with padded square shoulders and black velvet lapels. 

 

It was the kind of theatrical (some might say clownish) punk look that I adored. The suit also reminded me of one worn by Johnny Rotten when fighting his High Court case against Malcolm McLaren in February 1979. 

 

According to my diary from the time, Miss Khan was very friendly and the suit cost £75 (which is about £300 in today's money).  

 

I'm not sure I was ready to take on the world in that suit, but wearing it always made very happy. It was given it's final outing on my wedding day (20 October 1988); after that, the jacket was appropriated into my wife's wardrobe (along with my favourite Zorro style black hat).  

 

 

III. 

 

By the beginning of the 1990s, not only was I approaching 30 and so no longer to be fully trusted, but I was increasingly tired of the tartan-clad Jazz persona invented ten years earlier. And so, whilst still pretty much subscribing to the same anarcho-nihilistic philosophy of punk, it was time for a radical change of image, beginning with the purchase of a heavy linen suit bought from Giorgio Armani.

 

In other words, the Armani suit was not a belated attempt to become a yuppie and I had no desire to turn rebellion into money [2]. Indeed, part of the joke was to look rich whilst being poor; to be dressed as if keen for success whilst all the time celebrating failure.

 

I remember once wearing the suit to Warwick University for a meeting with Nick Land, in an attempt to make the point that being a mad Deleuzian doesn't necessarily oblige one to always dress in oversized black jumpers. 

 

Of course, Land was no more persuaded by my arguments in favour of expensive designer fashion than he was taken by my suggestion that the Ccru should retitle their magazine ***collapse as Stand Up! [3] 

 

To be fair to Nick, however, I don't think I was ever entirely convinced by my own arguments on this point either and, ultimately, this new Armani look never really worked. Thus, I almost inevitably drifted back to more avant-garde designers, including Vivienne Westwood ... 

 

 

IV.

 

This brings us to the final suit pictured above; an unstructured, linen/cotton design featuring a Prince of Wales check, from 2006. 

 

This suit always reminds me of happy days spent with my beautiful friend Dawn Garland, hanging around a bar in Bloomsbury (see photo below) before attending a series of lectures at Birkbeck by the (hugely over-rated) public intellectual Slavoj Žižek, on topics including Lacanian psychoanalysis and neo-Marxism. 

 

The suit - far more sober than the two drunken suits (one wool, the other silk) that I'd also purchased from Vivienne Westwood during this period - nevertheless always attracted attention when worn (particularly if I was accompanied by Miss Garland, who had her own unique style); some negative, but mostly positive and that's always welcome. 

 

For one doesn't wish to be too flamboyant and standoutish, but neither does one want to fade into the background or be just another face in the crowd; imperceptible, yes - indistinguishable, no thanks. 

 

 

 

 

Notes

 

[1] The Great Gear Market was located at 85 King's Road, London. It was a place known for its punk and alternative fashions and was where many young designers started out and many musicians shopped for outfits. Long closed now, it's perhaps not as well-remembered (nor as well documented) as Kensington Market.

 

[2] As Ian Trowell writes of Heaven 17's decision to wear expensive suits at the start of the 1980s, it was a look designed to confuse those whose anti-conformity simply meant conforming in another direction to another sartorial code or subcultural uniform. 

      See Trowell's article in SIG News #4 (UAL, September 2025); 'Let's All Make a Bomb: Heaven 17 and the Yuppie 1980s'. To read my take on this article, see the post on Torpedo the Ark dated 2 July 2025: click here. 

 

[3] The Cybernetic Culture Research Unit - styled as the Ccru - was an unorthodox, unsanctioned, experimental (and in-part imaginary) collective growing like some malignant tumor in the philosophy department at the University of Warwick in the mid-1990s, whose posthumous reputation far exceeds its actual accomplishments. Key members included Nick Land, Sadie Plant, and Mark Fisher. 

      The Ccru published a zine entitled ***collapse for which I once provided some artwork, even though I didn't particularly care for (or fully understand) much of the content. My idea was that we were already among the ruins - that pretty much everything that might collapse had collapsed - so it was time to build new little habitats and encourage people to stand up and find a way beyond the ruins: We've got to live, no matter how many skies have fallen, as Lawrence once put it. 

      I suspect I was seen as a bourgeois reactionary - in an Armani suit - hoping to reterritorialise on old ideas at a time when the Ccru wished to radically accelerate the process of deterritorialisation; although, to again give Land his due, he was always friendly with me and his suggestion about the direction my Ph.D should take (less philosophical and more literary in character) was extremely helpful.

 

 

For a follow up post to this one - on enclothed cognition, etc. - please click here.  

 

Thoughts on Ian Trowell's Article on Heaven 17 and the Yuppie 1980s in SIG News 4 (Sept. 2025)

Ad for the album Penthouse and Pavement by Heaven 17 

Artwork by Ray Smith (Virgin Records 1981)

 

 

I. 

 

It's interesting to ask why some musicians who might have strapped themselves into a pair of bondage trousers in 1977, suddenly started wearing formal business suits in the early 1980s and subscribing to an entirely different sartorial code ...

 

One possible answer, put forward by punk stalwarts The Clash, is that new groups were not particularly worried about récupération, i.e., the process whereby the radical ideas, images, and practices of punk were absorbed into mainstream culture and commodified for the market place. 

 

Dressed for success, these new groups embraced the idea of transforming rebellion into money and laughed all the way to the bank [1].     

 

 

II. 

 

However, if that's true of many new groups who preferred to be thought of as post-punk, it wasn't true, argues Ian Trowell, of Heaven 17 ... An English band, from Sheffield, who combined "Yorkshire awkwardness, conceptualist pranking [...] and an attention to visual detail" [2] with a commercial electronic dance sound [3].           

 

Not wanting to be pigeonholed and hoping to subvert clichéd ideas of what a band in 1981 should look like, these socialist synth-popsters wore expensive-looking suits "designed to confuse the expectations of anti-conformity-conformity ushered in by a 'cookie-cutter' punk uniform" [4]. 

 

By deliberately styling themselves as businessmen - albeit with a certain youthful swagger - they emphasised that the music business is a business and that recording artists are simply cogs in a money-making machine. 

 

This idea is further reinforced, as Trowell reminds us, by the cover design for Heaven 17's debut album, Penthouse and Pavement (1981), shown above, which amusingly hijacks the visual language of the corporate world [5]. 

 

 

III. 

 

So: Heaven 17 were not real yuppies - and, in fact, Trowell convincingly argues the case that they were not even parodying the yuppie look and ideology; that this is a contemporary misremembering. 

 

For although the word yuppie first appeared in print in 1980 [6], it was then just a neutral demographic descriptor for a class of young urban professionals. 

 

It wasn't until the middle of the decade that the term became fully conceptualised in the sense we understand it today and its use became widespread in the media to refer (almost always negatively) to a "fashionable go-getter who fetishises a luxury business suit and lifestyle" [7].   

 

As Trowell also amusingly notes at the end of his piece, in a Melody Maker feature on the band from October 1981, lead singer Glenn Gregory is compared to Michael Heseltine, not Bud Fox [8].   

 

 

Notes

 

[1] Récupération is a core concept in Situationist thought, particularly as developed by Guy Debord, and it is seen as one of the main methods by which dominant powers maintain control. 

      I'm referring here to lyrics (written by Joe Strummer) from the 1978 single by The Clash '(White Man) in Hammersmith Palais' (CBS Records): The new groups are not concerned / With what there is to be learned / They got Burton suits, ha! you think it's funny / Turnin' rebellion into money.

      There's an irony, of course, in being lectured on the perils of selling out by a band who signed the previous year to a major American label for $100,000.   

      

[2] Ian Trowell, 'Let's All Make a Bomb: Heaven 17 and the Yuppie 1980s', in SIG News, Issue 4 (UAL, September 2025), p. 4. 

      Ian Trowell is an independent writer and researcher who has published in the fields of punk and post-punk, fairground culture, fashion, photography and art. He recently published Throbbing Gristle: An Endless Discontent (Intellect Books, 2023). He also regularly publishes work on Substack: click here.  

 

[3] Heaven 17 were a trio consisting of Martyn Ware (keyboards, drum machine, supporting vocals), Ian Craig Marsh (keyboards), and Glenn Gregory (lead vocals). Ware and Marsh had originally been founding members of the Human League and Gregory had previously sung in a punk band with Marsh called Musical Vomit.

      The groups's name was taken from a fictional pop band mentioned in Anthony Burgess's dystopian novel A Clockwork Orange (1962). Whereas Phil Oakey's Human League went on to achieve major chart success, Heaven 17 struggled to make a similar impact. Their debut single '(We Don't Need This) Fascist Groove Thang' - taken from the album Penthouse and Pavement (Virgin Records, 1981) - was banned by the BBC but became a minor hit (reaching 45 in the UK singles chart). A remastered version from 2006 can be played on YouTube by clicking here. 

      The funny thing is, this was one of the few songs I remember taping off the radio at the time and I used to play it endlessly (even though synth-pop was never really my cup of tea and I wouldn't have considered for one moment actually buying the record).   

 

[4] Ian Trowell, op. cit., p. 5.

  

[5] Essentially, to employ another term drawn from the Situationist handbook, this is an act of détournement; i.e., one involving the appropriation, reimagining, and recontextualising of existing cultural elements in order to subvert their original meaning and expose their inherent ideology.  

 

[6] The first time the word yuppie appeared in print was in a May 1980 Chicago magazine article by Dan Rottenberg. He would later admit, however, that he had heard other people use the term and hadn't coined it himself.  

 

[7] Ian Trowell, op. cit. p. 5. 

 

[8] Michael Heseltine was then Secretary of State for the Environment in the Thatcher government; a somewhat flamboyant figure - always well-dressed with coiffed blonde hair - he had earlier enjoyed a long and successful business career. 

      Bud Fox is a fictional character in Oliver Stone's Wall Street (1987); a young, ultra-ambitious stockbroker played by Charlie Sheen.  

 

 

 

Heaven and How to Get There

Revival Movement Association

revivalmovement.org 

 

 

I. 

 

One of the ironic consequences of mass migration from sub-Saharan Africa is that there are suddenly lots of evangelical Christians on the street corners, preaching the gospel and reaching out as missionaries. 

 

In other words, having been colonised and converted by bible-bashing Europeans in the nineteenth-century, they are now attempting to undo secular modernity and effectively plunge us back into a world of religious mania.   

 

Thus it was I was given a little leaflet this morning, encouraging me to turn away from sin and put my faith and trust in Lord Jesus Christ, Saviour, as well as promising to reveal not only what Heaven is like, but, more importantly, how to get there.  

 

 

II. 

 

According to the leaflet, Heaven is a wonderful place whose beauty is incomparable:

 

The God of the Bible is a God of beauty, and this is why Heaven will be perfectly beautiful. It will be so beautiful that it cannot be compared to anywhere here on earth.   

 

Note how Heaven is capitalised, but earth is not: Nietzsche would argue that this provides a crucial insight into the Christian mindset; to the fact that Christianity prioritises that which comes after life whilst, at the same time, devaluing material (mortal) existence and is therefore profoundly nihilistic [1]. 

 

But let's leave aside the anti-Christian case against Heaven until later and continue with our reading of the leaflet ... 

 

Interestingly, no sooner are we told about the beauty of Heaven than we are informed that this is its least important aspect. What matters far more is the fact that Heaven is the place where all the purest, humblest, most unselfish people the world has ever known finally come together as one flock. 

 

And, to top it off, Jesus Christ Himself is there - as well as God in all His glory! Thus, in Heaven, we will finally have the opportunity to see God with our own eyes! 

 

I find the emphasis on this selling point a little perplexing; I'm no bible scholar, but didn't Jesus say somewhere or other that blessed are those who who have not looked upon the face of God and yet still believe in his majesty? Are we not encouraged to doubt our own eyes on the grounds that the senses can deceive us? [2]  

 

 

III. 

Moving on ... The little leaflet also tells us that Heaven is a place of happy reunions - i.e., a place where the dead and the living can catch up and renew relations, reminisce about old times, etc. 

 

There's no consideration of the fact that not everyone wants to meet with their former friends, partners, and family members - and certainly not if we are then never more to part. For as Larry David (mistakenly) reveals to his wife Cheryl in an episode of Curb, the great attraction of an afterlife is the thought of being free and single once more and able to make a fresh start: click here [3].  

 

 

IV. 

    

Clearly, as much as those who long for Heaven hate earthly life, the thing that really motivates their faith is fear of death, as this (inadvertently hilarious) passage makes abundantly clear:

 

Another great truth about Heaven is that there will be no death there. We will never have to endure the heartbreak of watching a loved one passing away. We will never again have to watch the undertaker as he screws down the coffin lid on the one we loved, there will be no black ties, no funerals passing through the streets, no standing by an open grave and watching a coffin lowered into it, no listening to the clods of earth as they fall remorselessly on the box that contains the remains of the one we love so much and whose death has left us so sad and broken. Thank God there is no death in Heaven!

 

Now, experiencing Angst - as Heidegger was at pains to explain - is a fundamental aspect of being human. Angst isn't merely a form of anxiety born of thanatophobia; rather, it is how Dasein grasps the idea of finitude and confronts the void at the core of existence [4].

 

In other words, angst allows us to understand that being-in-the-world rests upon non-being. An unsettling thought, perhaps, but ultimately a liberating one that dares us to live and become who we are (or find authenticity and accept responsibility for our own choices, as Heidegger would say).    

 

And those who would deny us this - and who would, in effect, rob us even of our own deaths - deserve our contempt.  

 

V. 

 

Finally, as to how to get to Heaven ... 

 

There is, apparently, only ONE way: and that is by accepting Jesus as your Lord and Saviour:  

 

Jesus is the only way, and no man can come to the Father except through HIM. If you reject Him you shut the door to heaven on yourself. 

 

Well, that's unfortunate, perhaps, because I do reject Jesus - and I don't even think, like Lawrence, that there are many saviours and that man can secure himself a spot in paradise via a number of paths leading to God [5]. 

 

And - just to be clear - I wouldn't want to go to a Heaven in which the purest, humblest, most unselfish people are all gathered; because these people are very often nothing of the kind and they seem to spend a good deal of their time revelling in the misfortune and torment of those burning in that other place, which, let us remind ourselves, has a sign above its gates declaring: Built in the name of eternal Love [6].  

 

Ultimately, I stand with the naked and damned and not the smug and saved in their new white garments; and I choose to be amongst the scarlet poppies of Hell rather than in a Heaven "where the flowers never fade, but stand in everlasting sameness" [7].   

  

 

Notes

 

[1] Nietzsche speaks of afterworldsmen who create a vision of paradise born of suffering, impotence, and an impoversished form of weariness: "It was the sick and dying who despised the body and the earth and invented the things of heaven [...] They wanted to escape from their misery and the stars were too far for them." See Thus Spoke Zarathustra, trans. R. J. Hollingdale (Penguin Books, 1969), p. 60. 

 

[2] See John 20:29. The KJV reads: "Jesus saith unto him, Thomas, because thou hast seen me, thou hast believed: blessed are they that have not seen, and yet have believed." 

 

[3] Curb Your Enthusiasm season 4, episode 9: 'The Survivor' (2004), dir. Larry Charles, written by Larry David, starring Larry David and Cheryl Hines.    

 

[4] See Heidegger, Being and Time, Division I, Chapter 6, where Heidegger not only discusses Angst as a fundamental mood, but relates it to his important notion of Sorge (usually translated into English as care and which provides the basis for Heideggerian ethics).   

 

[5] See the fragment of text written by Lawrence given the title 'There is no real battle ...' in Appendix I of Reflections on the Death of a Porcupine and Other Essays, ed. Michael Herbert (Cambridge University Press, 1988), p. 385. 

      In this piece, Lawrence argues that "the great Church of the future will know other saviours" and that the reason he hates Christianity is because it declares there is only one way to God: "'I am the way' - Not even Jesus can declare this to all men. To very many men, Jesus is no longer the way. He is no longer the way for me." 

 

[6] This idea of the sign is found in Dante's Inferno Canto III. Lines 5 and 6 of which read: Fecemi la divina podestate / somma sapïenza e ’l primo amore (My maker was divine authority / the highest wisdom and the primal love). But note that Nietzsche says it displays a certain philosophical naivety on the part of the Italian poet and that if there is a sign it is placed rather above the entrance to Heaven, with an inscription reading: Built in the name of everlasting Hate. See my post - 'A Brief Note on Heaven and Hell' (18 October 2014): click here. 

 

[7] D. H. Lawrence, Apocalypse and the Writings on Revelation, ed. Mara Kalnins (Cambridge University Press, 1980), p. 144.