Lynn Barnes, Surrealist Painter and Author

The Development of "Poe's Last Supper," over 20 Years Time (and almost finished this time!)

(The text is in and out of fonts right now, and are technical errors) 

A passage from The Last Exit before the Toll, the chapter Poe's Last Supper: I have reached impasses many times over the years with this painting, since its inception. It had been somewhat out of place in my house once I moved to Florida, looking at it in this bright, sunny, semi-tropical setting; but since I decided to sell the house (condo), it sprang back to life in a very dramatic way. Exactly why, I don’t know, except I felt I was at my limit of my own tolerance of myself in becoming an unproductive painter, although I did spend two and a half years writing and publishing the first edition of this book. It seems letting go of some of my material world enabled the return of my focus.          It is the true masterpiece of my life right now. It is my one and only epic painting I have done so far. I originally thought it was a cool idea: to have Poe on his deathbed, propped up in the hospital, thinking he was in a Fells Point bar drinking at a table with his characters. He died right down the street from me in Baltimore, at what was Washington Hospital (now Church Home Hospital), on the corner of Broadway and Fayette. I could picture the scene. The funny thing is, there are some accounts that he did talk to some characters. One might have been J. N. Reynolds, if he was the person that Arthur Gordon Pym was based on. It’s hard to tell if it was true. When I found that out, I thought my cool idea was turning into something I began to take a little more seriously.          I began the painting in 1991. It has gone through three phases, but I also thought each one might be the end of it. It couldn’t have been painted for a commission, or for a grant, taking 20-plus years. No rich person or organization could wait that long, since I wasn’t working on a cathedral. This time, the end might be in 2012 (not the end of the world) because it’s getting to the point I can’t do any more to it (then they are actually done; the saying paintings “are never done” is not always true).          Poe is large, 4 ft high and 6 ft wide. It is on ¼ inch untempered Masonite. It is primed with chalk and rabbit glue. The painting, with the frame, weighs around 100 lb. It is murder for me to move it around without help, and I hardly ever ask anyone for help. Plus, with the act of painting itself, I have back problems and I can’t stand for hours, although sitting most of the time can produce marathons. This, and the 7 ft high Joan of Arc will be the last big paintings I do.          Of course, there have been some strange moments over the years. There was one right off the bat. It is one I will share:          I began the painting by painting the original characters in sepia. I concentrated on the colors black, brown, Prussian blue, and flesh tone. Poe turned out right away almost exactly as he stayed, unlike the other characters.          After only about three days of working on it, my friend Janet visited me at my house. She was my manager at Hertz. It was a warm, sunny spring day. I was outside my side door on a ladder, painting around a window. I was just outside the front room’s back window, and I left the front door unlocked so she could let herself in. At that point, there wasn’t much to steal, so I wasn’t worried about leaving the door unlocked.           I heard a scream. It was Janet. I climbed down the ladder and rushed in the side door. She stood there, wild-eyed, mouth opened a little bit, and she pointed at the painting. What the hell?          I swear to God Almighty, a little accident happened when I painted the background, the window behind Poe. I had painted it with thinned-out Prussian blue. The paint was a little runny, anyone could see it was thin in a couple places, sunk in a little; but a drip had occurred, and it landed perfectly from Poe’s right eye. It looked exactly like a tear.          It was startling, shocking. It was amazing how Janet knew immediately it was an accident as quickly and fully as she did. She understood not only that I didn’t mean for it to happen, but I also didn’t even know it occurred. How did she know that? I heard her come in, and the scream was instantaneous. I immediately took a photo of it, documenting it. Unbelievable. I’ve put it on my website.          I am still amazed by her insight. How did she put it together so quickly? Did “something else” put it there? I don’t think so. It dripped from my brush when I painted it. It was not causal; but it did come from a meaningful coincidence. There was symbolism with that image, and it took it to a deeper level, and we both realized that.          It invoked in me again, not to be so cavalier with the concept. This will be a heavy-duty topic. It needed to be carried out with a little more heart besides mind; I could quit congratulating myself about it being clever. He did go into a dark world, dying in the condition he was in. Some of his symptoms are found in rabies; not that he died of that, we still don’t know what it was in 2011 (Silverman wrote that two weeks after he died, his cat Catterina was found dead outside his little house in New York). Regardless, the horrible symptoms were the same, and it must have been hell on earth.          I could not believe how that drip came out of the very lower lip of his eye. I did covered it up; it’s not what I wanted in his final image.          My friend Janet’s mother died right before mine. She died of brain cancer as Janet would herself only a short time afterwards, within a couple of years.          You have to watch being my friend.*   *The book goes into detail how most of the closest people around me died.