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In 1989 Derek Jarman set out to chronicle his passing observations in the cult-classic Modern Nature. The avant-garde artist and filmaker's diary entries span from quippy hot-takes on the soul-crushing nature of Thatcher’s neoliberal regime to memories of childhood spent under the yoke of an overbearing father to musings on the joys of homosexuality. Amongst Modern Nature’s kaleidoscopic brilliance, two recurring objects of attention appear like a greek chorus: the first being his diagnosis with HIV and the second being the construction of Jarman’s garden in the windswept Dungeness landscape. Jarman catalogues the various plants in his garden with the fervour of a religious zealot. The garden stands as a testament to the human spirit and remains a site of pilgrimage for fans of Jarman's work. To read Modern Nature is to bear witness to the mind of an artistic genius. Life and death cohabit the same page as Jarman’s garden shyly thrives while his body begins to fail him. There's an eerie comfort to consuming the journal entries of a terminally ill stranger that is difficult to articulate. Perhaps it is Jarman's unfailing commitment to optimism or the joie de vivre within every page. Whatever it is, Modern Nature serves as an affirmation towards life in the face of tragedy for all those who read it.

Words by: Kasumi Borczyk
Image by: Layla Cluer