In a new biography of Dutch graphic artist M.C. Escher, previously undiscovered letters from friends and family shed new light on the artist’s personal life. According to his cousin Martha, who spent the last 24 years of her life in need of walking assistance, Escher once attempted to redesign his home to make it accessible for her, only to create a circuitous, incomprehensible design that confused her until her death. This excerpt from the book reveals the struggles Martha faced in trying to visit her cousin in his home.
His genius was that he did not see things like the rest of us. His problem was also that he did not see things like the rest of us. First, there was the front door. I saw a knob in front of me, clear as can be, metal protruding outward from the door, and light reflecting off of it at the exact angle you would expect it to. I reached out to grab it and slammed my hand into flat, solid wood. Maurits heard this and opened the door for me. He was apologetic and said that he had to fix the handle, nobody ever seems to get it right. Then he grabbed something that looked completely two dimensional and twisted it around. It must have been the knob, for I saw the latches moving. But I didn’t see him touch anything but the boring, flat wood of the door.
Next, there were the entrance ramps. One entered his front hall through a small corridor with a sharp right turn. Supposedly I would walk up the ramp, make the turn, and arrive in his home. But then there was another turn, and another, and another, and then I was outside the door again. What’s more is, I seemingly hadn’t ended in a vertically higher position, despite going up and up. He shouted from ahead, “Aren’t you coming?” and came back to accompany me inside.
Then we got in, Lord knows how, and I saw a metallic handlebar fixed to the wall. I thought, Well, I’m not going to fall for that one again! So I ignored the metal and put my hand on the wall at about the same distance as things were aligned with the door. And again I touched flat wood. He said, “Can’t you see I installed a handlebar?” Oh, fool me once, shame on me. But fool me twice …
I grabbed the bar and I continued to hold onto it through the hall, and I walked along and I said, “Egad! I’m holding on to a snake!” And I looked ahead and it continued like it was the head of a serpent, then I looked back and it was just a handlebar! And I saw these two things, but when I looked at the object as a whole, I saw just one thing, and it was never clear just where one transformed into the other, but it did.
Eventually I said, “Enough! I don’t even want to know what’s in your kitchen! I’ll escort myself out and we can meet at a normal person’s place.” I turned around, which of course got me into the ramp affair again …
According to Martha’s letters, she and Escher remained close, but never again did they meet in any of his residences. She also went on to have brief relationships with Roald Dahl and Dr. Seuss. When a friend asked if these friendships ended because of similar issues relating to home design, she wrote back, “No, the home designs were fine. I just didn’t care much for all of the racist caricatures on the walls.”