Lorna Sankey muses on the paintings of artist Bryan Charnley, recounting her responses and reflections to the pieces.
Looking at art can teach us so much about the human experience of illness that is difficult to convey through medical explanation alone. It requires us, the viewer, to do some of the work, through looking, interpreting, relating to difficult personal experiences, and accepting ambiguity. We are presented with an individual’s unique perspective and how they choose to express it, and we take from it what we can or will. Often, we benefit from revisiting the work on different occasions, seeing and learning more each time.
This essay has developed following many sessions of ekphrasis, the practice of writing descriptively about art. I have engaged in this practice whilst looking at Bryan Charnley’s ‘Bondage Heads’ series. Bryan Charnley (1949-91) was a British artist who depicted vivid portrayals of his experience of living with schizophrenia. He stated that making art was for him a form of exorcism (Charnely, 1988).
Puppet Schizophrene, Brooch Schizophrene, Nail Schizophrene and Fish Schizophrene were all painted between 1983-88. The first of these resides in a private collection; the second has been purchased by Bethlem Museum of the Mind; the latter two by the Wellcome Collection. These paintings fascinate me. Writing about them ensured I looked closely at the details, and reflected on my reactions. The paintings remind me of people from my personal and professional lives who have been diagnosed with schizophrenia, and the ways in which I have tried to emotionally and intellectually understand their experiences. Translating the images and interpretations into words helped me understand what I was seeing.
Other than knowing that Charnley was diagnosed with schizophrenia, experienced psychological distress throughout his life, and had periods of being institutionalised, I know very little about the artist. This has allowed me to get acquainted with his paintings on my own terms, allowing me to interpret his work through the lens of experiences from my own life. It has also reminded me of the value of slow looking at art without predetermined knowledge of the pieces.
Composition
All of the paintings have a similar composition- a head fills most of the canvas, shown in profile. All wear headscarves which cover the eyes, ears and mouths. Only the flesh of the nose and part of the cheek is visible. Within the headscarf outline are several scenes, divided into their own sections, but often overlapping into each other. This may indicate how Charnley experienced his psyche- as separate emotions, experiences and memories merging, confusing and invading each other.
The scenes within the bondage heads are packed full with images, which I explore below. This results in busy and chaotic environments. It is difficult to know where to start looking; there is no natural beginning to the painted narratives. The eye is drawn back and forth between different elements, unable to retain concentration on any one image for long without being distracted by another. My brain automatically tried to make links between images, endeavouring to build a story. At times, the multiple different faces in the paintings, often shown from different angles, resulted in the illusion of movement, like a film reel repeating the same sequence over and over again. With no beginning or end it is an endless, ever faster sequence of repeating clips that are hard to escape from. It can be haunting, terrifying, confusing and unsettling. An insight into the everyday experience of the painter perhaps.
Senses
Through the parts of the face which allow us to sense (sight, smell, hear) covered by scarves, , the bondage heads have restricted contact with the outside world. The mouths are unable to speak, taste or breathe; ears unable to hear; eyes unable to see. Communication and understanding are muted. Only the nose is exposed, able to breathe for the most basic survival function.
These facial features are depicted elsewhere, detached from the context of their faces. In Brooch Schizophrene an ear is combined with the mechanical elements of a motorcycle. In Puppet Schizophrene we are taken underwater, where rough jagged waves toss a detached mouth around, the lips bleeding into the waves. In Fish Schizophrene, eight identical eyes look straight at us, superimposed over an urban scene around the edge of the head like a decoration. Wherever else in the painting we look, these eyes remain watching us. A Ferris wheel has an eye, ear, and mouth in place of carriages, in a surrealist dream-like image. In another scene a woman dives or has fallen headfirst into a crowd of monstrous and angry heads, ears and mouths, a nightmarish crowd that surges angrily towards us.
Perspective
The angles and distance of images vary within each painting, giving a distorted sense of reality and space. In Brooch Schizophrene, pool balls on the same table vary greatly in size. In Puppet Schizophrene, a self-portrait is divided between two sections, staring directly and intensely at us from both. Scanning between the two is disconcerting and confusing. In Fish Schizophrene there are a dizzying variety of perspectives. We look upwards at towering buildings that fall at opposing angles to each other, then across to nearby blocks of flats from a height. We also look down onto a street where pedestrians seem unaware that we watch them from above. We observe street scenes close up and from a distance, during night and day. We are on the ground, in the air, underwater. There are many ways to view a situation.
Looking through and into
Some scenes look through windows. This can give the impression that we are trapped inside, looking out, with limited integration with the outside world. In Brooch Schizophrene, a hand parts some curtains to look outside at a bleak, cloudy landscape. In Puppet Schizophrene, a face looks through broken tinted glass at a beach with a building in front. The face has been cut by the glass, injured at trying to escape or at least from trying to look out. The purple filter of the glass alters the view, which is clearer without it. The figure has broken through another layer of distortion to get to the truth, a metaphor perhaps for the filter that the illness or medication may have placed on Charnley’s interaction with the world.
Reality
There are worlds within worlds. In Puppet Schizophrene a line of people walk out of a door placed on the side of a self-portrait of the painter’s own head, jagged and cracked like rock. The figures walk out of the portal and into a painting, all going in the same direction, until they are hidden from our view beyond the boundary of the frame, to an unknown place we cannot see. There are layers upon layers of reality and stories with unknown endings. This creates a sense that within Charnley’s mind, these overlapping narratives kept travelling further and further inside of themselves. Elsewhere in the painting a signpost gives two options: Reality and Inner Experience. On the opposite side of the head seems to appear, mostly hidden, a third sign in the same style- barely visible, it says Art, as if this is the third option.
Privacy
The most striking images in these paintings show Charnley’s perception that others were able to read his thoughts, to spy into his brain, the most invasive and terrifying of actions. In Brooch Schizophrene the crown of a head has been split cleanly open as if by medical procedure, to reveal the grey brain within. The brain doesn’t appear to have been cut but it is parted in two like a pair of lips, into which a large microphone has been thrust. The cable extends outside of the head, as if the innermost, private thoughts of the mind are being amplified out into the public world beyond. He is exposed and vulnerable.
Institutions
Some scenes, within and outside of the heads, are of institutional settings and people, a reminder perhaps of the time he spent within psychiatric hospitals and the influence this had on his sense of normality. In Puppet Schizophrene, sinister figures with featureless faces appear to wear uniforms in a grey concrete setting where another figure is behind bars. The theme of imprisonment is echoed in the same scene on a further level through a flying bird, trapped within the microcosm of a painting.
Religion
In Nail Schizophrene, nails may be a reference to the crucifixion. In the top right of the painting two crosses can be seen. In front of these, a hammer is about to knock a nail towards the centre. The nail is also a naked woman’s body, and the action appears to be operated by a faceless clothed woman who is pulling a lever. Two more human nails are below. In the same painting, a tired looking man wears a crown of thorns and smokes a cigarette. He is watched closely by a strong, bald, authoritarian-looking man, who seems to have power over him and is supervising. Perhaps Charnley felt an affinity with Jesus.
The unexplained
The identity and purpose of some objects and shapes aren’t clear. This may be on purpose, as Charnley was able to skilfully paint realistic depictions. There are vague shapes that drift across a scene and out to the side, perhaps similar to perceptions and abstract sensations that Charnley wasn’t- as is near impossible to do so completely- able to understand within his own mind.
Conclusion
Taking the time to look closely and slowly at Charnley’s vivid paintings has been a thought-provoking journey. It has led me to think deeply about his experience of living with a diagnosis of schizophrenia, and in turn the experiences of people I have known in my own life. Images can say so much more than words, in part because of the personal associations and memories they can stir. This results in a very individual experience when engaging with art. This essay has recounted my first impressions of the Bondage Heads, however I suspect that with time and repeated looking I will see more within their frames. The act of contemplating artwork that communicates lived experience of illness is a powerful learning tool for anyone working in health and social care, that I hope will become more commonplace in the future.
Images of the bondage heads can be seen here: https://www.bryancharnley.info/bondage-heads/_0002_puppet-schizophrene/
About the author
Lorna Sankey is an Occupational Therapist with a wide range of clinical experiences in community and inpatient settings. She currently works as a Research Associate at the University of East Anglia. Prior to working in healthcare Lorna studied Art History and Literature and is very interested in the relationship between the arts and healthcare, especially the role of art and literature in communicating lived experiences of illness and disability to healthcare students and practitioners. She can be contacted on LinkedIn.
References
Bryan Charnley, Artist’s Statement, 1988 (Artist Statements – Bryan Charnley)
