Expect to be bruised. ….and one for the crow taunts, it taunts from cover to cover. It leers, it questions, it provokes. But does it threaten? Does it cause anxiety, nervousness or paranoia? If so then why? One should maybe worry if such feelings are evident. This is a meaty tomb, its many strata interwoven into a deep sea of image and intrigue. It cannot be taken as face value.
John Redhead is a complex character. Described variously as a manipulator, a man lacking in compassion, a genius, and the best of his generation, he has always been a controversial figure within climbing circles. ….and one for the crow will only add to that controversy. Those expecting a vertical testament from a climbing hero will be bitterly disappointed. It is not a book about climbing, though throughout, climbing is the major theme. It touches on issues of climbing, on issues of painting, on issues of life, but it uses its subjects not as a means to an end, but rather as vessels for much deeper consideration.
Redhead vehemently rejects the title of artist, preferring that of image maker. He sees himself as a healer, his work an offering to a modern society much misaligned. He certainly possesses a manic, primal energy, wrapped up tight inside a black leather jacket. The wry smile and glinting eyes hold the suggestion of mischief, and whatever you might believe, the jokes always on you.
'I see most climbers as victims' - climbing for Redhead has always been a tool, a way of seeing beyond the norm, a journey to worlds within. To put ones life knowingly at risk when the outcome is not clear, has a way of focusing the senses, of emptying the cupboard of ones mind, of refreshing the soul. He berates those who climb for the sake of climbing, those who do not seek answers through their actions. Sport for all is not a concept that rests easy with Redhead. He advocates a softer, more spiritual approach to movement on rock.
'Music of Decline' - Such are his views on the art world, mirroring the perspectives seen within climbing. Post Modernism is wholeheartedly rejected, as is the commercial greed of galleries, the notion of art as entertainment. It would be all too easy to label Redhead as a pretentious pomp, as a compulsive cynic. But There is passion in his words, in his images, in his life. He argues for that passion, he lives that passion. He begs for others to examine within, to find passion inside, to find meaning in their own existence.
….and one for the crow is a lavish production, its construction oozes of quality. The curtain is raised upon fifty or so chapters, essays, tales?, conceptions. The literary content is best served in small doses, a heavy meal, it sits on the stomach and demands the aid of digestive juices. It bullies and banters, it commands patience and tolerance - fast food and roller coasters it is not. Society's massive bulk will undoubtedly be shocked - short, sharp surges will pierce the delicate skin of the moral majority. This is a premeditated assault, shock therapy - the laugh's on you!
An essential piece of materialism. Black and white images adorn this book. 40 images of climbing, one per chapter, one each to visually characterise each new climb. I cannot help but feel that these representations are a weak link in the chain. Though fine images, many are over-cooked, burnt and dodged to excessive degree, overdramatising inherent drama. So too, the glorification and inspiration of climbing that they bring, seems somewhat at odds with the messages of elsewhere. They fill a loose space. The sketches on the other hand are excellent. Meaningful, dynamic, vibrant, each helps convey the feeling that our society is deeply troubled, in need of soulful surgery. In need of balance?
That …and one for the crow is an important publication is without doubt. It questions motives, provokes a look inside. It is sometimes fun ( in a tongue in cheek sort of way), it is often dark, but it is never easy. It matters not whether …and one for the crow is loved or hated, only that it is done so with meaning, done so with a burning passion. Paul Twomey
