Three additional single-sided loose drawings were included in the album.
One day in 2006, trolling through eBay (as I’m wont to do), I made a fortuitous discovery. A handful of intriguing drawings appeared, and then, in front of my eyes, the listing was swiftly pulled. I embarked on a quest to track them down. The search eventually brought me to a once-in-a-lifetime treasure: an album of 283 masterful drawings in a handmade album. Each drawing had been executed on a ledger sheet with the imprimatur of “State Lunatic Asylum, No. 3” or “State Hospital No. 3,” in Nevada, Missouri.
The artwork is a treasure trove of clues…a diary that tells a story in the artist’s own personal symbolic language. The album and drawings look like artifacts from a distant time: arresting portraits of people with gaping eyes wearing nineteenth-century clothing, Civil War soldiers, antique cars, fantastic boats and trains, country landscapes with roaming animals, and other drawings that seem fanciful and bizarre. The oxidized edges of the old paper make the drawings look like treasure maps. The artist had hand made and hand bound this album of drawings with loving care.
Where the drawings were made was instantly apparent, but nothing else beside its beauty and uniqueness was known about this artwork. Researching the clues in the drawings brought up many other questions: Who was the artist? Was the artist a he or a she? When were the drawings created? What was the connection with State Lunatic Asylum No. 3?
As an artist, I was intrigued by the skillful, one could say obsessively, detailed draftsmanship of the work, each brick rendered with precision. The portraits are arresting, and despite the haunting faces, this is a peaceable world with no aggressive violence. The artist lovingly captured his subjects with a subtle use of color and shading, using the side of his pencil to create the smutty noses that enhance the modeling of the faces. The clothing and intimate objects of daily life are presented with solemnity and respect.
As a folk art and outsider art dealer and collector, I was thrilled by the discovery. I knew this was a singular work—rare and remarkable.
I began an adventurous search for the artist’s identity, which led me to the Deeds family and the touching, disturbing life story of Edward Deeds, institutionalized for most of his adult life.
Amazingly, the album had been lost in 1970 and miraculously rescued by a fourteen-year-old boy, who kept it safe for thirty-six years until improbably, it came to light a second time, intact. I was able to acquire the collection, preserve and document the drawings, and embark on this journey of discovery. It is a gift and a miracle these drawings were saved.
Edward’s story speaks to the human need to communicate—and the artist’s need to make work in spite of horrendous circumstances. Looking at the well-worn covers, I envision Edward clutching the album like a talisman. I imagine the drawings were a source of comfort for him…a formal, gentle world he created as a sanctuary, a world in contrast to the harsh reality of his long life of abuse, hospitalization, and the frightening treatments he suffered at State Hospital Number 3. I am thrilled that Edward Deeds’s wondrous art has found its own life on the world stage, telling a fanciful tale beyond the walls of the hospital and the tragic artist who was its creator.
