state lunatic

The Utica Crib was named for the New York State Lunatic Asylum at Utica where it was heavily used in the 19th century to confine patients who refused to stay in their beds. Based on a French design, the structure was modified to incorporated slats and rungs that gave it an appearance similar to a child’s crib. While use of the Utica Crib was widely criticized and infamous among patients, some found it to have important therapeutic value. A patient who slept in the Utica crib for several days commented that he had rested better and found it useful for “all crazy fellows as I, whose spirit is willing, but whose flesh is weak.”

In an opposing view, Daniel Tuke, a noted British alienist (an early term for a psychology expert) writes that, “it inevitably suggests, when occupied, that you are looking at an animal in a cage. At the celebrated Utica Asylum… where a suicidal woman was preserved from harm by this wooden enclosure… Dr. Baker of the New York Retreat allowed himself to be shut up in one of these beds, but preferred not remaining there.”

The Many Faces of Dean Ambrose.

*I was looking through my wrestling action figures, and I realized I’ve picked up a lot of Ambrose figures. I do not regret my choices! (I am so happy the face molds got better over time).


The Electric Pencil – A man draws for 37 years from the State Lunatic Asylum No. 3

The Electric Pencil: Drawings from Inside State Hospital No. 3
by James Edward Deeds Jr. (author) and Harris Diamant (foreword)
Princeton Architectural Press
2016, 272 pages, 7.5 x 9.5 x 0.8 inches (softcover)
$22 Buy a copy on Amazon

Back in the 1970s, a 14-year-old boy walking down a residential street in Springfield, Missouri found a cool-looking handmade, hand-bound book in a pile of trash. He opened the book to find 283 drawings, each on a ledger sheet with either “State Hospital No. 3” or “State Lunatic Asylum No. 3” printed at the top. The drawings depicted people in 19th-century clothing, Civil War soldiers, steamboats, antique cars, animals, and brick institutions. The boy held on to the book for 36 years.

In 2006, the boy (now obviously a man) decided to unload the art portfolio. He also wished to remain anonymous and, after contacting a retired professor of Missouri State University about the book, he vanished from this story without a trace. After a couple of bounces, the book ended up in the hands of art dealer and artist (fabulous sculptor!) Harris Diamant, who researched and traced the mysterious art book back to its original owner.

The creator of the book was James Edward Deeds Jr., born in 1908 and raised on a farm in southwestern Missouri. He resisted working on the farm, butt heads with his authoritarian father, and by the time he was 28 he was labeled as “insane.” He was admitted to the State Hospital No. 3 and stayed there for 37 years.

The Electric Pencil, the name of this book as well as the name given to Deeds before his identity was discovered, is a complete collection of Deeds’ artwork. He numbered each piece at the top with a pencil. His pencil and crayon drawings - perhaps journal entries of sorts – never expressed violence, but instead were mostly wide-eyed portraits, still lifes and domestic, often calming pastoral images. As Diamant says in the foreword of the book, which was just released today, “Edward’s story speaks to the human need to communicate – and the artist’s need to make work in spite of horrendous circumstances.” – Carla Sinclair

March 29, 2016