Derek Jarman’s film, Blue, opened at the Camden Parkway cinema in London on August 23, 1993, and was shown the next month on Channel Four with a simultaneous broadcast of the soundtrack on BBC’s Radio Three. A few months later Jarman was dead, from complications derived from AIDS. Blue is an autobiographical film, which deals directly with its director’s experience of AIDS, his blindness, and his awareness of his approaching death. At the same time, it should be seen in parallel with his book, Chroma, a meditation on colour, completed in June 1993 and published the next year. The text of Blue consists almost entirely of material from the book’s section, ‘Into The Blue’, plus one brief passage from ‘The Perils of Yellow’, and a single new paragraph in which Blue is engaged in a death struggle with his mortal foe, Yellowbelly. The film consists of the projection on screen, for its entire seventy-five minutes, of pure blue light, with a soundtrack of the film-maker reading his text and a music score by his collaborator, Simon Turner.

Blue had been in Jarman’s mind as a possible project for many years. In 1987, after the success of Caravaggio (released the previous year), he floated the idea of making a film about Yves Klein, a painter whose work he had admired since his days as an art student at the Slade in the mid-sixties. Nothing came of this, but in 1989 he was approached by a television producer (from a ‘loathsome inept youth-orientated arts programme’) to appear in a documentary about Klein. As he recorded in his journal, ‘I agreed to co-operate only if the work explained Yves and didn’t turn him into a circus—perhaps an interview followed by as many minutes or seconds of blank blue soundless TV’. Jarman hated the programme, a ‘travesty’, when it came out, even though Simon Turner had composed the music for it. He noted that Klein’s own works—such as the Symphonie Monotone and the Anthropometries

were for a select invited audience, who were requested to show their respect by arriving in evening dress—this the fifties, Paris, and that was what it was about, exclusivity. The photos are the evidence, the performance a secret. The enemy is the spurious egalitarianism and lack of concentration of the media. Maybe the best way would be to black out TV sets. Furious phone calls: ‘I’ve paid my licence.’ Yes, but it doesn’t give you the right to pry—this is a private programme of the void, if you wish to see it you’ll pay the dues as well and if you fail you’ll be fined.

IKB
spirit in matter

IKB refers here to International Klein Blue, the unique blue paint, a deep ultramarine, which Yves Klein himself invented, patented, and used exclusively in his series of monochrome blue works.