Drawing calmed you. Your poker infernal pen
Was like a branding iron. Objects
Suffered into their new presence, tortured
Into ï¬nal position. As you drew
I felt released, calm.
—from “Drawing” by Ted Hughes
Regardless of your opinion of Sylvia Plath, there is no denying she made a considerable mark in her short life. From the moment she arrived in Cambridge as a Fulbright scholar from Boston, she accrued almost mythical status – and a cult-like following as a poet, novelist, wife, bright mind and victim of her own genius. This new book by Faber and Faber is set to introduce fans and scholars alike to a further facet of Plath’s life as their ï¬rst ever collection of her drawings is published this
month; exploring her credentials as an artist.
The sketches in their publication, Sylvia Plath: Drawings, were made in the period immediately following Plath’s 1956 marriage until her suicide in 1963. Following her death, the drawings lay in Hughes’ care and were passed down to their two children, Frieda and Nicholas, when they came of age. Following Nicholas’ suicide in 2009, Frieda became the sole owner of the drawings and is the editor of this edition.
The book itself is a beautiful and well-compiled introduction to this little known side of Plath. As well as an introduction by her daughter Frieda, it contains a wide selection of works from different periods of her life, separated into the places and countries in which they were drawn. Interspersed throughout are letters and diary entries from Plath discussing her artwork.
The drawings record scattered details of her short life – a cow, a shop front, an umbrella stand, a portrait of her husband Ted Hughes, a bottle of wine, the Parisian skyline – all relayed with a fl urry of pen scratches.
The works are odd, cold studies; ebony ink on now yellowed paper. They contain an impassioned vision relayed with a strong hand whose tension is apparent through its strikes upon the paper. Objects and scenes appear not just depicted but bound to the paper by the ties of Plath’s tensely wrought lines.
There is also something achingly sad about the reasons for their public appearance this year. Frieda Hughes, the last surviving member of the Hughes and Plath lines, sold them at auction two years ago – effectively bequeathing them to Plath’s fans. “I didn’t have children. If I had, to be honest, I probably would have hung onto them and left them for the children”.
These drawings will not bring one closer to an understanding of Plath’s poetry. Nor are they of sufficient talent to establish a reputation for her as an artist. But if you are simply one of those fascinated with Plath the person, myth and cultural icon (of which there are many on both sides of the Atlantic), the drawings will be an endless source of fascination for the fresh glimpses of her life that it contains.
Syvlia Plath: Drawings is edited by Frieda Hughes and published by Faber and Faber. It is available here.
