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by Robert Campbell
Edited and Introduced by Pablo Capra
Brass Tacks Press, 2022
388 pages
"Introduction"
by Pablo Capra, Editor
Robert Campbell was born on April 18, 1951, in Marshall, Texas—a country town he liked to call “Mars Hall,” imagining that it had fallen from Mars. With his boundless talent and eccentric personality, he himself seemed to have descended from another planet.
A painter, writer, and musician, he employed the arts as interchangeable mediums to express his inner vision. He called his style “Real Fantasy” to emphasize the fantastic in his take on Fantastic Realism.
In high school, he excelled at football, and regretted being unable to go further because of his short skinny build. Stephen F. Austin State University accepted him on an art scholarship nearby, but he dropped out his junior year and never received a degree.
In 1975, he moved to Los Angeles, where he showed at Gallerie Rabindra, painted faux finishes and trompe l’oeil, and worked as a scenic painter in the theater. He entered the film business after meeting my father, art director Bernt Capra, in the mid-1980s.
His credits include Echo Park (1986), Bagdad Cafe (1987), and music videos for Prince (“Raspberry Beret”), Kenny Loggins (“Vox Humana,” where he played himself), Tom Petty (“Don’t Come Around Here No More” and “Make it Better”), Cyndi Lauper (?), Tori Amos (“Cornflake Girl”), and Nirvana (“Heart-Shaped Box”).
In the late 1990s, he was diagnosed with diabetes but didn’t take it seriously. As a tragic result, he lost his eyesight around 2000 and died on May 28, 2004, at age 53.
I was closest with him in the last four years of his life, when he mainly wrote poetry. In 2002, we cofounded Brass Tacks Press (his idea), and published his poetry in the anthologies Life as a Poet (2002–2004) and Idlers of the Bamboo Grove (2002), then republished it in his own book, Anesthesia Lake (2004).
After his death, I found his earlier writings scattered in the dark, fire-damaged attic of his downtown LA building, where it would have been impossible for him to go. I published them in Magic Woman (2005), Jeremy Black (2005), Audesheer and Deja (2006), Rut Weaver (2008), Camp Bell (2008), and On a Purple Spiral Floating (2016), with my notes and uncertain readings [in brackets].
He had never mentioned these earlier writings, except for one story that he said was 100 pages long and had been lost… maybe Audesheer and Deja? I don’t know of any other publications of his work, or even of another person who kept his writings.
Among the early writings, his Real Fantasy manifesto, “Reflection on Art in Society,” offers a rare explanation of his artistic intentions.
In music, he envisioned Real Fantasy as a kind of “New Age” rock and roll. He often used the words “poem” and “rock song” synonymously, and his first poems were the songs he made up while learning to play guitar in the late ’70s and early ’80s. The stories “Fan Mail” and “Liza” offer cool portraits of Real Fantasy rock stars.
Humor was an important part of Real Fantasy, and his fascination with it takes center stage in “Nothing Nuisance,” about two friends on a mission to discover where jokes come from.
The supernatural and surreal were always encroaching, as in the kaleidoscopic blurring of perception that concludes “Jeremy Black.”
When dated, most of his short stories indicate that they were written in 1985.
His late poetry, begun around 2000, was more introspective, challenging, and gritty. He continued to revel in the power of the imagination, but also suggested that there was danger involved, or a sacrifice. This theme appears in his earlier writings too, like the title of the poem “Magic Begins Where Logic Burns Out.”
Robert feared that his overactive imagination “could rob me of reality” (“Left Home on a Crystal Morning”). His many references to drugs and alcohol were a way to express this metaphorically, I believe, because he didn’t use them in real life.
From the incredible worlds he could dream up, it’s easy to see why he never wanted to stop dreaming.
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| Robert Campbell, Marshall High School yearbook, 1969. |
