The University of the Self #13

Experiencing the exhibition 'The Fantastical World of Mervyn Peake: Islands and Seas'

I usually try to exist as an island — peaceful in isolation, a hidden secret shielded by the metaphorical sea. Whenever I have to navigate a city (especially a huge, unfamiliar one), I become just like Aesop’s Country Mouse, thrust into a cacophonous landscape I struggle to understand. Whatever I had hoped my plans there might be, they are often shelved in preference for the nearest quiet space in which I can recover from sensory overload. Being a person with autism, I can miss out on so much. Travelling anywhere is so stressful. Sometimes it means I don’t achieve a goal. Sometimes I can, if there are not too many challenges. As Robert Burns once wrote (in his poem To a Mouse), “The best laid schemes o’ mice an’ men / Gang aft agley.”

In December 2023, I attended an evening event at the British Library. I found myself there in good time, so I shyly crept around; sought a quiet place to avoid the crowd, thought about looking for a cup of coffee. A gargantuan banner proclaimed the Library’s current main exhibition, Fantasy: Realms of Imagination. Regrettably, I couldn’t go — there definitely wouldn’t be enough time to appreciate it, and I hadn’t booked, hadn’t planned for it in my head. Instead, I climbed some steps and noticed a line of frames affixed to a panel in front of the King’s Library Tower.

Image description: This is a white board with information upon it relating to the exhibition. It has a black and white photograph of Mervyn Peake upon it. He is wearing a patterned, knitted jumper and has flyaway dark hair. He has a pipe in his mouth. The text is in black: ‘The writer and artist Mervyn Peake (1911-68) created extraordinary worlds through his illustrations. This display focuses on Peake’s exploration of islands and seascapes, themes he returned to throughout his career. Peake’s talent for crafting fantastical worlds developed from his childhood in China and his love of reading. Early experiences included trips to a mysterious ‘Dragon Pool’, where tales of a perilous waterfall fed his imagination. As a young artist, Peake read adventure stories rich with illustrations that stirred emotions of terror, suspense and exhilaration. From his early work to published books, Peake’s enduring fascination with islands and their potential for the creation of isolated, imaginary worlds shines through his illustrations.’ Behind the board are shelves of books in darkness.

At the the beginning of the panel was a photograph of Mervyn Peake and a title: The Fantastical World of Mervyn Peake: Islands and Seas. Following that was a series of his drawings. I was stunned. Reactions exploded in my head. I felt faint. Certain pieces from the fantasy genre have been incredibly important to me — have assuaged loneliness, offered me refuge, inspiration, a sense of belonging. The books from the Gormenghast series set my imagination on fire. The characters were astomnishingly themselves. The language was spectacular. The imagined world Peake built, immense. To find myself in such proximity to examples of Peake’s work — of direct evidence of his hands and mind — was too potent at first to be endured. Thankfully, there was a seat nearby, from which I could contemplate the line of pictures but not what was on them. For now, this was enough. The event I was there to attend was due to start in half an hour, nowhere near enough time to spend with something so momentous. I wasn’t catching the train home until the next day. I knew that I must return then.

As I lay in the hotel bed too hyperfocussed to sleep, I thought about what Peake’s work meant to me. He revealed how places can have a soul, how characters operate through these places as islands on islands; how a place can offer room for countless independent lives, for escape. His people are their own unique, magnificent, perfectly imperfect, mercurial, complex selves. He imagined whole worlds. His works are the poetry of the secret self. Peake made me a hoarder of astonishing words, of dizzying descriptors and astonishing imagery. Perhaps I was overthinking. Perhaps such mental priming is a great way of preparing to visit an exhibition.

The Fantastical World of Mervyn Peake: Islands and Seas is a curation of eighteen of Peake’s monochrome, astonishingly detailed line drawings. One can sense the influence of Chinese and Japanese art (Peake was born in China), especially in his rendering of waves. Many of these drawings come from Peake’s book, Captain Slaughterboard Drops Anchor, published days before his mother’s death – information which lends the pictures extra pathos. Words from the stories are written here and there in Peake’s own hand — a touching link to the man who once held the pen. Other drawings were used as illustrations for Treasure Island — the works for this book convey a powerful sense of sea sounds, weather, movement, and light.

I was the only person present during my visit to the display. Part of me was glad — I couldn’t control my exited commentary: look at the tiny whale! Can anyone see how neat these lines are? I cried happy tears. Coming this close to someone who could never know how much they changed my life is an emotionally charged event. It was a subtle display, fostering great intimacy. In 1942, Peake was hospitalised after a breakdown. He witnessed the liberation of Bergen-Belsen. He died from dementia at the age of 57. He was only five years older than I am now, yet in every picture, I could sense so many other lifetimes that, through his art, he lived. I am so grateful my need for peace led me to discover this display, which has continued to nourish me long after my visit, such was the kinship these pictures extended. In front of them, I belonged.

To have wondered what was beyond the gates of the main exhibition; to have treated these artworks as also-rans to the Peake treasures that are held within it would be to insult the incredible, spellbindingly curious drawings which I felt truly privileged to witness. Yes, I would have dearly loved to go to the main exhibition, but sometimes, numerous factors conspire against you and there’s nothing to be done about that. I was incredibly fortunate, happy and content to have experinenced what I did.

Not everything we set out to experience in life must seem immense to be immense to you. Sometimes it's good to appreciate those small moments — the hidden gems, the unexpected, unsung encounters. I worried that I was failing to ‘make the best of’ the fact that I was in London because I stayed in a hotel that was right next to the train station and only five minutes walk from the Library. But I was happy with what I achieved. Sometimes the smallest things take on great meaning when viewed through the lens of another person's life.

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