Notes on God, by David Bowie
What I found at the V&A East Storehouse
David Bowie made and kept copious notes throughout his life. Many of these were made available to the public this month, when the V&A East Storehouse in London opened up its voluminous Bowie archive. I was lucky enough to be one of the first visitors to see them.
I was there to do some last-minute research for my book. I had no idea what I’d find. Some of Bowie’s notes related clearly to a particular album or project; the V&A’s archivists bundled these together. But there is a large box of undated and unsorted notes — random musings, maxims, aphorisms. I had been advised that its contents might be worth examining, but that it would take a while to look through them all. Would it be worth it?
Of course it was. Given the subject of my book, I was looking out for mention of God, or of love as a metaphysical force. Here is what I found; they are hard to date, but his handwriting aged with him, and it suggests that he made the following notes in his later years:
For me, God is one of those people who keeps cropping up in one’s life when you really don’t think you can bear being with them for one more minute
I need a church to cry in
God is our defence
Religion can break your heart
All shall be well and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well (a quotation from the medieval anchoress Julian of Norwich)
For now I see through a glass darkly (a quotation from St Paul reflecting on the limitations of human understanding this side of death)
Remember you are dust and unto dust you will return (a quotation from the book of Genesis, used in churches on Ash Wednesday as ashes are imposed onto the foreheads of the penitent; they are spoken to each individual in turn)
I love sex and I love God
There is a God
but Nietzsche’s dead
Love conquers death
Some of the notes are typed, some are handwritten with apparent deliberation, some are scrawled, some scratched urgently onto the page. Some look like ideas for lyrics, others like thoughts and beliefs.
Still yours, even beyond the grave
Each and every day
Is a bonus to my life
Loss - the greatest gift to a writer
It carves out his ability
The center is always a weak and uncertain thing
Tormented by the opinions we have of things rather than by the things themselves (Montaigne)
Death holds less pain than does the wait for it (Ovid)
We can leave life as we leave a theatre
when the play ceases to please us (Cicero)
My book is due to be published in January. I look forward to telling you more about it in the weeks ahead.