As artfully dishevelled studios go, Arthur’s is on the more organised side of shambolic.
A sensitively written portrait of the infinitesimally fine line between fascination and obsession
There are boxes, but they are stacked. Cans of paint, but they are tidily piled. Easels are arranged at intervals; and paintings in various stages of development respectfully shelved.
So: as artfully dishevelled studios go, Arthur’s is on the more organised side of shambolic.
To begin with, at least.
At the outset of the piece, Arthur (actor:writer Jack Fairey) explains that he has lost his muse. But he still has charm, a lovely girlfriend, a distant but caring brother, clients… okay, so it’s clear that he needs to secure an adult ADHD diagnosis, but apart from that, he is living a fairly regularly irregular artistic life.
Chaotic geniuses abound at the Edinburgh Fringe, so Arthur is in good company. Who hasn’t felt the impotence of creative block, we nod. Which of us hasn’t abandoned the gig that will actually pay the rent in favour of a passion project, we ruefully grin. We’ve all been there. And after all, that’s just how we creative types, roll, right?
Well, yes.
But…
And this ‘but’ is the nub of the piece: exploring what happens when Arthur’s clawing desperation for inspiration starts confusing fact and fantasy. This is a sensitively written portrait of the infinitesimally fine line between fascination and obsession: and the darkness which many mistake for divine intervention.
Rilke was famously afraid that if his devils were to leave him, his angels might take flight as well. And Arthur's terrible spiral into mental health crisis explores this uneasy alliance - and not infrequent trope - between suffering and transcendent talent. In his case, it is a preoccupation with the myth of Icarus and Daedalus; a story whose parallels of flying high are woven into the narrative with care and nuance. Arthur's decline is judiciously plotted by Fairey, whose emotional descent into full-blown psychosis is drawn with an incrementally squirming physicality and facial play which is initially almost intangible until it has grown to almost unmanageable levels.
This is a sad but ultimately beautiful piece which fully embraces its social responsibilities and is working with a variety of agencies to support those with mental health needs. It uses art as a prism, but is really about soothing the perfectionist in each of us; and allowing ourselves to be - and be happy with being - just a little bit ordinary.
