In Praise of the Scarlet Women 1: Leila Waddell

Leila Waddell prepares to perform  

The Rites of Eleusis in 1910

 

 O ma Lady Babalon / O ma beauté, ma divine ... 

 

 

I. Opening Remarks

 

Writing in a late essay on pornography and obscenity, D. H. Lawrence famously asserts: 

 

"If a woman hasn't got a tiny streak of a harlot in her, she's a dry stick as a rule." [1] 

 

And so no surprise that we should find him singing the praises of the Scarlet Woman in his reading of Revelation, that final mad book of the Bible [2]:

 

"Only the great whore of Babylon rises rather splendid, sitting in her purple and scarlet upon her scarlet beast. She is the Magna Mater in malefic aspect, clothed in the colours of the angry sun, and throned upon the great red dragon of the angry cosmic power. Splendid she sits, and splendid is her Babylon." [3] 

 

Warming to his subject, Lawrence praises those precious metals, stones, and spices that belong to this harlot-goddess who offers those men with the courage to do so the chance to drink  from "her golden cup of wine of sensual pleasure" [4] held triumphantly aloft in her right hand.  

 

It's a passage that might bring a smile to the face of the Great Beast himself ...

 

 

II. To Mega Therion 

 

English occultist Aleister Crowley - author of The Book of the Law (1904) and founder of Thelema [5] - gained widespread notoriety during his lifetime as the wickedest man in the world and he has remained a highly influential figure within western esotericism and the counterculture.

 

Although Crowley enjoyed sexual relationships with men in his youth - and advocated complete sexual freedom for both men and women in defiance of both public opinion and religious prejudice [6] - he mostly had an eye for the ladies. 

 

This was particularly the case if they were exotic looking and willing to become a Scarlet Woman; an honorific title he gave to several young women who played a significant role not just in his love life, but in his esoteric and creative work also [7].    

 

Of all these women, there are two who particularly interest: Leila Waddell and Leah Hirsig. Here, I shall speak of the former; in part two of this post, I'll discuss the case of the latter. 

  

 

III. Laylah

 

Leila Waddell (1880-1932) was a girl from Down Under who, as one commentator says, "entered the world stage as an acclaimed violinist - and left it having influenced magical practice into the 21st century" [8]. 

 

In 1908, fate took her to London as part of a touring orchestra and here - for better or for worse - she met Crowley [9] and this opened the door into another world; one of drink, drugs, and sex magick. Charmed by his intelligence and supernatural charisma - just as he was deeply impressed by her musical ability - they soon became lovers. 

 

Of course, Waddell was also obliged to join Crowley's new magical order - the Astrum Argenteum (est. 1905) - in which she would be known by other members as Sister Agatha, although Crowley called her Laylah and designated her as his Scarlet Woman; "a sort of anti-Virgin Mary who transgressed the boundaries of feminine virtue by wallowing in excess" [10].    

Waddell and Crowley made a fascinating couple and were soon thinking of ways in which they could incorporate music, poetry, and dance into magical rituals. This resulted in the Rites of Eleusis; a series of seven public rites written by Crowley, with original music composed by Waddell, and performed in semi-darkness at Caxton Hall, London, in the autumn of 1910. 

 

Not quite theatre, not quite an occult ceremony, the Rites of Eleusis nicely blurred such distinctions -though whether it roused the audience into a state of spiritual ecstasy is debatable; music lovers were delighted with Waddell's virtuosity, though critics not quite so moved by Crowley's "turgid paeans to the god Pan" [11]. 

 

Others were outraged by what they considered an immoral display that was both blasphemous in nature and obscene in suggestion. Reflecting afterwards, Crowley concluded that the mixed reception given to the Rites of Eleusis - particularly his contribution - was due to the audience's inability to effectively channel the magical forces unleashed on the night. 

 

Whilst continuing her occult studies and musical engagements in both Europe and the United States, Waddell also became involved with Irish nationalism (born of Irish famine refugees she was naturally sympathetic to the republican cause). This culminated in the staging of what some might see as an absurd stunt and others as a kind of proto-Situationist event that even Malcolm Mclaren would have admired [12]. 

 

On 3 July 1915, Waddell, Crowley, and a group of Irish revolutionaries "sailed down the Hudson River to the Statue of Liberty, with the intention of declaring Irish independence and war on England" [13]. Unfortunately, the guards wouldn't let them land on Liberty Island, but, like the Sex Pistols' river boat adventure on the Thames 62 years later, it was an amusing idea.   

 

Whilst Crowley headed off after this to California on his own, Waddell continued to perform and to make new literary friends, including Rebecca West and Frank Harris. She also greatly enjoyed playing lunch time concerts in factories for the (mostly male migrant) workers who would sometimes sing along and present her with wildflower posies after the show; indeed, she considered these shows the highlight of her career (and not the performance at Caxton Hall). 

 

In 1924, and now in her mid-40s, Waddell decided it was time to return Down Under: for one thing, her father was seriously ill and needed care; and for another, Crowley had set up a magical abbey in Sicily accompanied by a new Scarlet Woman, Leah Hirsig.  

 

Alice Gorman provides an excellent note on which to conclude, that I agree with entirely: 

 

"Waddell is often relegated to a character in Crowley’s life. But if we assess her life on its own terms, we see a brilliant musician, a philosopher of magic, and a rebel who was unafraid to take risks and be true to herself." [14] 

 

This is in stark contrast to Crowley's characteristically dismissive remark made of his former muse, lover, and creative collaborator, referring to Waddell as no more than a fifth-rate fiddler. 

 

Waddell died, from uterine cancer, aged 52, in 1932 and was buried next to her parents in Sydney. 

 

 

Laylah as seen in Aleister Crowley's 

The Book of Lies (1913) [15]

 

Notes

 

[1] D. H. Lawrence, 'Pornography and Obscenity', in Late Essays and Articles, ed. James T. Boulton (Cambridge University Press, 2004), p. 236. 

 

[2] The Book of Revelation - or the Apocalypse as it is also known - is traditionally attributed to John the Apostle, but the identity of the author remains disputed. See chapter 17 in which judgement is passed on Babylon the Great; Mother of Harlots and Abominations. Readers can click here to access the King James Version (KJV) online. 

 

[3] D. H. Lawrence, Apocalypse and the Writings on Revelation, ed. Mara Kalnins (Cambridge University Press, 1980), p. 121.  

 

[4] Ibid. I have discussed Lawrence's reading of Revelation 17 before on Torpedo the Ark; see the post entitled 'The Goddess, the Whore, and the Policewoman' (31 July 2020): click here.  

 

[5] Liber AL vel Legis - commonly known as The Book of the Law - is the central sacred text of Thelema (see below). Crowley wrote it in 1904, claiming that the book was dictated to him by a spirit, Aiwass, whom he later referred to as his own Holy Guardian Angel. 

      For Crowley, publication of the work marked the dawning of a new stage in the spiritual evolution of humanity, to be known as the Æon of Horus. The primary teaching of this new age (as found in The Book of the Law) is: Do what thou wilt and thus the discovery and following of what constituted one's True Will - i.e. a divine individual purpose that transcends ordinary desires - was at the heart of his new religion and occult philosophy, Thelema. 

      Crowley termed this setting out on a path towards self-becoming the Great Work and whilst he certainly subscribed to an order of rank (i.e., a natural hierarchy) when it came to assessing the value of individuals, he also maintained Every man and every woman is a star (see The Book of the Law I. 3). Magick - which Crowley liked to spell with the letter k added, just as he liked to spell Babylon with an a in place of the y - is a central practice in Thelema, along with certain other physical, mental, and spiritual exercises. 

      Various figures and followers of Crowley have sought to develop Thelema by introducing new ideas, practices, and interpretations. This includes, for example, Jack Parsons, who, in 1946, conducted the Babalon Working in order to invoke the goddess Babalon (later believing his wife-to-be Marjorie Cameron to be the human incarnation of such, and thus a Scarlet Woman). Parsons - working in collaboration with his pal at the time L. Ron Hubbard - based the Babalon Working on Crowley's description of a similar undertaking in his novel Moonchild (1917). Afterwards, Parsons wrote a brief text - Liber 49 - which was intended as an additional fourth chapter for The Book of the Law. 

      Readers who are interested in knowing a bit more about Parsons - and his wife - might like to see the recent post entitled 'Cameron: the Woman Who Did' (15 June 2025): click here. And for my post written in memory of Crowley - 'The Great Beast is Dead' (1 December 2021) - click here.    

 

[6] Like many radicals, Crowley was of the view that spiritual enlightenment and individual freedom arises through transgressing socio-sexual norms. We now know this is naive, simplistic, and mistaken.  

 

[7] Whilst Crowley thought that he and he alone was human manifestation of the Great Beast 666, he believed that the Scarlet Woman - i.e., the true mistress of the Beast - could physically manifest as any number of women that he happened to take a shine to - which is convenient, to say the least; for Crowley was a man who fell in love passionately, but also frequently, and soon got bored within a monogamous relationship. Thus, as he notes in his commentary on The Book of the Law, the Scarlet Woman is replaceable as need arises. 

      Some of the women that Crowley at one time or other considered to be Scarlet Women include Rose Edith Kelly; Mary d'Este Sturges; Jeanne Robert Foster; Roddie Minor; Marie Rohling; Bertha Almira Prykrl; Leah Hirsig and Leila Waddell.  

 

[8] Alice Gorman, 'Hidden women of history: Leila Waddell, Australian violinist, philosopher of magic and fearless rebel', The Conversation (23 September, 2019): click here. 

      Waddell was an extremely talented musician; not only did she teach violin at some of Sydney's most prestigious schools, but her concert performances earned her a devoted following and she quickly established a reputation as one of Australia's leading violinists.   

 

[9] Most likely they would have met at the Café Royal, which was then the favourite haunt of writers, artists, musicians, and occultists - even D. H. Lawrence once held a dinner party there for a group of old friends, though it didn't end well when the port he'd been drinking made him vomit over the table before passing out.  

 

[10] Alice Gorman ... op. cit.  

 

[11] Ibid. 

 

[12] In Situationist theory a situation is a deliberately constructed event aimed at disrupting the boredom and alienation of every day existence and a model of reality mediated via images and commodities. Such an event blurs the lines between performance art and political protest and aims to create the possibility of authentic experience. 

      Malcolm McLaren - in collaboration with Vivienne Westwood, Jamie Reid, and a group of disaffected teenagers - applied this theory to a project known as the Sex Pistols in the mid-late 1970s.

     

[13] Alice Gorman ... op. cit.   

[14] Ibid. 

 

[15] Apart from this iconic photograph there are several references to Leila Waddell (Laylah) throughout The Book of Lies. 

   

 

Readers who want to know more about Miss Waddell might like to order a copy of a new biography by Darren Francis - Laylah: The Life of Leila Waddell (Hadean Press, 2025) - which is being published on the 26th of this month.   

 

Weaving a Short Post on Textile Art (With Reference to the Work of Graham Hollick and Others)

Malcolm McLaren and Johnny Rotten as fabricated by Graham Hollick 

in the series Pop Formation (2025) [1] 

 

 

I. 

 

Textile art includes a range of forms, including weaving, knitting, sewing, and embroidery. It has been practiced for many thousands of years and can be functional, decorative, or, indeed, functional and decorative. 

 

Historically, it's usually been seen as a form of folk art associated primarily with women and thus rather looked down upon by those within the (male-dominated) Academy; more craftwork than artwork; requiring skill, certainly, but lacking genius. 

 

I'm pleased to say that this crass distinction - a blatant form of both sexism and snobbery - has become increasingly untenable, thanks to contemporary artists such as Grayson Perry and Tracey Emin, who unapologetically adopt craft techniques and utilise textiles in their own practices [2].  

 

Today, then, we might say that textile art has undergone something of a renaissance. Not only is it now recognised by galleries and museums as worthy of exhibition space, but, by experimenting with new methods and materials, pioneering individuals have radically extended the boundaries of the medium [3].

 

Whether Graham Hollick might also be thought of as pioneering in the field of textile art is, however, debatable ... 

 

 

II.  

 

Hollick graduated from the Winchester School of Art with a degree in textiles and fashion, in 1988. 

 

He only took up rug hooking relatively recently, however, although has since made a name for himself with a traditional craft that essentially involves pulling loops of yarn or fabric through a stiff woven base with a crochet-type hook [4]. 

 

Drawing inspiration from various sources - including street art, found graphics, and the world of masks - Hollick had a solo exhibition entitled Pop Formation at The All Good Bookshop in March of this year, featuring portraits of several iconic figures from the world of music, including Bowie, Prince, Madonna, Boy George, and, as seen here, Messrs. McLaren & Rotten.

 

Now, whilst I'm pleased to see these latter two figures included in the exhibition - particularly Malcolm in his Duck Rock phase - I have to confess I'm a little taken aback by these meticulously rug-hooked renditions (roughly A4 in size and priced at £150).   

  

For without wishing to be ungenerous, it seems to me the works lack something, although I'm not sure what that is; perhaps it's the sex, style, and subversion that McLaren always insisted upon as vital to the punk aesthetic. 

 

Having said that, there is something of the make-do and can-do attitude to Hollick's work - as well as an element of almost humorous naïveté - that was crucial to the look (and politics) of punk. And so it just might be the case that Hollick has actually captured what matters most ...          

 

 

Notes

 

[1] For more information on Graham Hollick and his work, visit his website - click here - or see his Instagram page: click here.

 

[2] Grayson Perry is celebrated for his large-scale tapestries which, whilst depicting scenes from contemporary life, draw on traditional techniques in their making. He has also created a series of embroidered works and sewn items with which he actively attempts to reclaim and elevate textile art. 

      Tracey Emin, meanwhile, is equally well-known for her quilts that often incorporate various personal items and form part of a larger self-narrative. 

      Looking back a bit further into art history, we can probably thank William Morris for being one of the first to challenge the distinction between art and craft in the mid-nineteenth century; for teaching us that the choice of paper we hang on our walls is just as important as our choice of pictures. 

 

[3] Such figures include the American artists Sheila Hicks and Nick Cave ... 

      The former is known for her innovative and experimental weavings and textile sculptures that incorporate distinctive colours, natural materials, and personal narratives. She is particularly fond of producing three-dimensional objects that entice viewers to reach out and touch them. Her pieces range in size from the miniscule to the monumental. 

    The latter, meanwhile, is best known for his Soundsuits; brightly-coloured sculptural costumes incorporating found objects and recycled materials, such as plastic buttons, twigs, feathers, and human hair. These outfits are sewn together and can either be worn, exhibited in a gallery, or even played like a musical instrument (thus the name).

      For more on both of the above - as well as eight other exciting textile artists - see Sarah Gottesman's essay 'Pioneering Textile Artists, from Sheila Hicks to Nick Cave', on artsy.net (31 October, 2016): click here. 

 

[4] Rug hooking is a form of textile art that is believed by some to have originated 200 years ago in the weaving mills of Yorkshire, England (others argue that it developed in the form we know today in North America). 

      Like many similar crafts, it has gained much greater respect in the art world today than in previous times and hookers, as they are known, have been encouraged to explore new materials, design patterns, and techniques. Perhaps the most famous practitioner is Canadian artist Nancy Edell, who introduced rug hooking into her work in the 1980s, using the medium to explore ideas of feminist utopia and the gendering of space.  

 

 

Cash from Mayo: On Richard Hellmann and Malcolm McLaren

Malcolm McLaren in a 2006 TV ad for Hellmann's mayonnaise 

est. as a commercial brand in 1913 by Richard Hellmann 

 

I. 

 

Hellmann's make a whole range of condiments - ketchup, mustard, salad dressing, etc. - but they are probably best known for their ready-made mayonnaise, which was first developed by Richard Hellmann for the use of customers at his New York deli in 1905 [1]. 

 

It proved so popular, that Hellmann began selling it to other stores and, in 1913, after continued success, he built a factory to produce his mayonnaise in ever-greater quantities, sold under the name Hellmann's Blue Ribbon Mayonnaise. 

 

He had discovered his true role in life and was on the way to making a fortune; the very first mayo millionaire, able to comfortably retire in 1927 after selling his brand to Postum Foods.   

 

Somewhat surprisingly, it wasn't until 1961 that Hellmann's mayonnaise arrived in the UK. By the end of the 1980s, however, it had over 50% of the market share. And then, in 2000, Hellmann's became part of the British multinational company Unilever (who own and market the brand to this day). 

 

 

II. 

 

In 2006, Malcolm McLaren was probably feeling a little wistful ... 

 

'Anarchy in the UK' had been released thirty years ago and he had turned sixty in January, which is a difficult age for any man: "Too old to be a midlifer, too young to be elderly; still aiming for the top - but also ready for a lie-down", as the journalist Andrew Baker once wrote [2]. 

 

He had by this time, however, long established his credentials in the advertising industry, after gaining a number of commissions to work on commercials in the previous decade for a variety of top brands including Levi's, Pepsi, and British Airways.

 

Perhaps someone at the ad agency Lowe London remembered this and although they didn't require his services as a conceptualist or creative director, they did offer him the chance to feature as one of a number celebrities in a 30 second TV spot for Hellmann's mayonnaise, passionately discussing the best way to prepare a cheese and tomato sandwich.

 

Whilst there is much disagreement about ingredients - what type of bread, what type of cheese, what type of tomato (Malcolm favours cherry tomatoes) - and how best to cut the sandwich, everyone agree that Hellmann's mayonnaise is crucial. 

 

The tagline runs: You create the sandwich. Hellmann's makes it. [3] 

 

 

III. 

 

Presumably McLaren was well paid for his involvement and by this date he had acquired an extremely lavish international lifestyle, holidaying with Young Kim on St. Barth's, etc., so perhaps needed to earn a few extra bob whenever the chance to do so arose.  

 

For some who knew him at this time, he seemed happier and more content than previously, as well as increasingly proud of his legacy and keen to defend it. But, as Paul Gorman notes, "there is a sense that McLaren was never quite comfortable, nor firing on all cylinders" during this late period, "when life was without conflict" [4] and smothered in mayonnaise. 

 

 

 hellmans.com

 

 

Notes

 

[1] German-born Richard Hellmann (1876–1971) emigrated to the United States in 1903. In mid-1905, he opened his delicatessen at 490 Columbus Avenue, NYC.   

 

[2] Andrew Baker, 'The reinvention of the 60-year-old man', The Telegraph (24 April 2022): click here. 

 

[3]  Written by Sam Cartmell and directed by Jorn Threlfall, the ad can be viewed on YouTube by clicking here. For more info on the creative team behind the ad, click here.  

 

[4] Paul Gorman, The Life and Times of Malcolm McLaren (Constable, 2020), p. 735. Gorman goes on to make an excellent reference to Dorothy Parker's poem 'Fair Weather', which includes the line: 'They sicken of the calm, who knew the storm.'   

 

 

Heap Big Monsters: Man-Thing and Swamp Thing

 

Cover of Man-Thing Issue 1 (Jan 1974) by Frank Brunner

 Cover of Swamp Thing Issue 1 (Nov 1974) by Bernie Wrightson

 

 

I. 

 

Sometimes, it takes fifty years or so before one finally (although inadvertently) discovers the answer to a question that has (unconsciously) troubled since comic-collecting childhood in the 1970s ...

 

Who emerged from the swamps first: Marvel's Man-Thing or DC's Swamp Thing? 

 

Before I provide the answer to this, let me just briefly remind everyone who these two monstrous characters are, beginning with the Man-Thing ...

 

 

II.

 

Man-Thing may sound to some like a sex toy, but he's actually a large, slow-moving, empathic, swamp creature (formerly a human biochemist called Ted Sallis) living in the Florida Everglades, near the fictional town of Citrusville. 

 

Conceived by Stan Lee and developed by writers Roy Thomas and Gerry Conway and the artist Gray Morrow, the character first appeared in Savage Tales #1 (May 1971), but it was Steve Gerber's version of the Man-Thing - eventually given a comic of his very own that ran for 22 issues between January 1974 and October 1975 - that is now considered a cult classic.   

 

Having injected himself with a Super-Soldier serum (don't ask), Sallis unfortunately crashes his car into the swamp, where scientific and magical forces combine to transform him into a highly sensitive plant-creature with immense strength and many other astonishing powers; not least his ability to secrete highly concentrated acid when triggered by the violent emotions of others: Whatever knows fear burns at the Man-Thing's touch!  

 

 

III. 

 

As for the Swamp Thing ... created by writer Len Wein and artist Bernie Wrightson, he's had various incarnations, beginning with his first appearance in House of Secrets #92 (July 1971), in a story set in Louisiana in the early 20th century. 

 

Usually depicted as a monstrous anthropomorphic mound of vegetable matter, he uses his vital cosmic powers to protect the natural world (and mankind) from threats of both scientific and supernatural origin, so might best be described as a kind of eco-hero or an embodiment of the Green. Despite his strength and abilities, like other forms of vegetal life, Swamp Thing is susceptible to herbicides.  

 

In the mid-late 1980s, a reimagined Swamp Thing found his greatest popularity thanks to the creative genius of Alan Moore, who was given full freedom to develop the character as he saw fit. His first big decision was to rewrite the Swamp Thing's origin in order to make him a true monster (as opposed to a human being transformed into a monster). Moore also revealed that there had been dozens - perhaps hundreds - of earlier Swamp Things.    

Whilst Moore retained the horror and fantasy elements fans loved, he also broadened the scope of the story to include more eco-spiritual matters and was voted by his fellow comic book professionals for several Jack Kirby Awards in the mid-1980s.

 

 

IV.

   

Let us return now to our opening question: who emerged first from the swamps; Man-Thing or Swamp Thing? 

 

In purely chronological terms, as we have discovered, the answer is Man-Thing - but only by a few months. And so, it has to be asked if the Swamp Thing was merely a (ripped-off) version of the former, as many have suspected and like to believe.  

Surprisingly, the answer to that seems to be no: for it appears that each character arose independently of one another (albeit around the same time) and that, if anything, both the Marvel and the DC character were inspired by a Golden Age comic book character known as the Heap; another mysterious and terrifying muck-monster, who first appeared in a comic cover dated December 1942 [1].  

 

According to one comentator, this game of intertextuality, imitation, and influence is accepted practice within the world of comic books: "Whether fans see it as flattering imitation or unoriginal copying, it's very much the norm for creators to rework an older character into their own works." [2] 

 

Nevertheless, it might be pointed out that Marvel did consider taking legal action against DC when Swamp Thing made his debut several months after their own Man-Thing. They probably didn't pursue such owing to the fact that both of these characters were so similar to the Heap and, besides, Roy Thomas and Len Wein were friends - Wein was also a flatmate of Gerry Conway's - so they doubtless swapped many ideas between them.  

 

As someone who, as a child, was a Friend of Ol' Marvel, my loyalties were obviously to the Man-Thing. 

 

But, I can't help retrospectively seeing that DC's Swamp Thing was probably the superior and more interesting character, especially when Moore took creative control and gave the latter "a tale of tragedy, romance, and an odyssey-inspired journey through the universe that eclipsed Man-Thing's story" [3].

 

Thus, whether Swamp Thing may have initially borrowed story elements from Man-Thing, is ultimately irrelevant.  

 

 

Notes

 

[1] The Heap was created by writer Harry Stein and artist Mort Leav, in collaboration with Ed Cronin. He first appeared in issue 3 of Air Fighters Comics (Hillman Periodicals, Dec. 1942). 

[2] Ashley Land, 'Man-Thing Vs Swamp Thing: Both Were Based On An Older Monster', published on the comic book website cbr.com (19 July, 2023): click here. 

[3] Ibid.

 

 

Musical bonus: Malcolm McLaren, 'Swamp Thing', from the album of the same title (Charisma Records, 1985): click here. 

      Whilst the song has little to do with the comic book character, it's worth noting that McLaren and Alan Moore met and briefly worked together on a film script in 1985, when the latter was in the process of reimagining Swamp Thing. Each man was impressed by the other and Moore would later provide the Foreword to Paul Gorman's biography of McLaren (2020).    

Of Punks and Prostitutes (Everyone Has Their Price)

Linda Ashby with Soo Catwoman and members of the Bromley Contingent 

(L-R: Debbie Juvenile, Siouxsie Sioux, Steve Severin, Sharon Hayman, and Simon Barker)

Photo by Ray Stevenson (1976)

 

 

I. 

 

According to the official trailer, The Great Rock 'n' Roll Swindle is the staggering story of a punk group that not only "held the record business to ransom", "stuck a safety pin through Her Majesty's nose" and "turned the national press into an occupied zone", but also "smuggled a Great Train robber into the top ten and destroyed the myths of their own success" [1]. 

 

All of these things are true: but were the Sex Pistols really a "kamikaze gang of cat burglers and child prostitutes" [2], or is that just a metaphorical mixture of Mclarenesque fantasy and hype? 

 

Leaving aside ideas to do with self-destructive behaviour and criminal theft, let's examine the more disturbing claim that the Sex Pistols - using that term in its wider application to refer not simply to the members of the band, but to all the many colourful, creative, and often fucked-up characters associated with them - might be viewed as child prostitutes ...

 

 

II.  

 

Some readers may recall that back in July 2019, I published a post in which I discussed an idea central to the Swindle project that the music industry ruthlessly exploits the young artists it controls as well as the young fans who buy its products [3].   

 

It doesn't simply make a point about the exploitative nature of the music business from a financial perspective, however. It also explicitly suggests with its language of pimping and prostitution that the music industry has a sleazy underbelly [4]. 

 

Not that Malcolm was adverse to exploiting young flesh himself in order to create a stir and he seemed to genuinely delight in the world of pornography, fetish, and prostitution, as his early T-shirt designs for Sex make clear. 

 

And many of the kids who hung around (or worked in) his store on the Kings Road and later became friends and followers of the band fronted by Johnny Rotten, also seemed drawn to the world of vice; particularly those who fell under the spell of Linda Ashby, a key figure in the early punk scene and a professional dominatrix, skilled in the art of S&M.    

 

 

III.

 

Ashby, with her short blonde hair, distinctive eye makeup, and often dressed in a favourite outfit from The London Leatherman [5], was a member of what we might term the illicit underground; that demi-monde of gay bars, strip clubs, sex shops, drug dens, and houses of ill repute frequented by a wide variety of people, from artists and entertainers, to politicians and bowler-hatted city gents.  

 

She was also one of those rare customers at 430 King's Road who actually had money to spend and, before long, her large central London apartment - just off Green Park - became an important location for the punk elite to meet up and crash out. This included members of the Bromley Contingent, who were famously photographed by Ray Stevenson in 1976 cavorting on the floor having just spray painted her walls with graffiti [6].

 

Of course, being associated with a known prostitute did not make the teens who gathered round her prostitutes themselves, although, everybody's favourite punk blonde, Debbie Wilson (aka Debbie Juvenile), when not following the Sex Pistols or working as a sales assistant at Seditionaries alongside her best friend Tracie O'Keefe [7], wasn't averse - according to Bertie Marshall (aka Berlin) - from turning tricks in Mayfair to clipping mug punters in Soho. 

 

Indeed, Marshall also worked as a rent boy and he described himself and his friends, like Debbie, who were on the game, as a bizarre and exotic pack of whore hounds [8]. 

 

And so, the phrase from The Great Rock 'n' Roll Swindle trailer with which I opened this post wasn't entirely fictitious, nor referring simply to the manner in which record companies exploit young talent. There was an all too literal sense in which prostitution was an acceptable (and celebrated) aspect of the punk lifestyle - as it was in the contemporary art world at that time [9].          

 

Notes

 

[1-2] Lines from the official trailer to The Great Rock 'n' Roll Swindle (dir. Julien Temple, 1980), narrated by the famous British newsreader and commentator on BBC Radio John Snagge. To watch on Youtube, click here.

      Note that this commentary - entitled 'Pistols Propaganda' - can also be found as the B-side of the Sex Pistols' single '(I'm Not Your) Stepping Stone' (Virgin Records, 1980), released from the soundtrack of The Great Rock 'n' Roll Swindle (Virgin Records, 1979).

[3] See the post entitled 'Young Flesh Required: Notes on Punk and Paedophilia' (18 July 2019): click here. 

[4] In fact, as Deleuze and Guattari demonstrate in Anti-Oedipus (1972), flows of capital and flows of desire belong to one and the same libidinal economy. Thus sexuality, as they say, is everywhere; as much in the boardroom as in the bedroom; "the way a bureaucrat fondles his records, a judge administers justice, a businessman causes money to circulate ..." it's all about desiring-production. 

      See Gilles Deleuze and Félix Guattari, Anti-Oedipus, trans. Robert Hurley, Mark Seem, and Helen R. Lane (The Athlone Press, 1984), p. 293.

[5] The London Leatherman (est. 1972), which caters to connoisseurs of a certain taste, significantly influenced the fetish fashions and accessories sold at Sex by McLaren and Westwood and, later, the wider punk scene. Thus, the name Ken Magson arguably deserves to be more widely known than it is: a brief biography can be found on The London Leatherman website: click here. 

      A description of the LP7 Wrestlers Suit favoured by Ashby - and a photo of her wearing such - can also be found on thelondonleatherman.com: click here.

 

[6] Ashby would have regularly encountered members of the Bromley Contingent not just at 430 Kings Road, but also at Louise's, a lesbian club in Soho that they and members of the Sex Pistols liked to frequent and where her girlfriend at the time would often DJ. 

      The photo session I refer to with members of the Bromley Contingent, taken at Ashby's flat by Ray Stevenson in October 1976, featured in the first (and only) issue of the Sex Pistols fanzine Anarchy in the U. K. One of the pictures (cropped) can be seen at the top of this post. 

[7] See the post entitled 'Reflections on a Photo of Two Young Punks' (4 December 2018): click here, in which I pay my respects to (and express my fondness for) Debbie and Tracie. 

[8] See Marshall's memoir, Berlin Bromley (SAF Publishing Ltd., 2006). 

      Marshall - aka Berlin - was just 15 in 1976 when he and fellow suburban misfits Susan Ballion (Sioxsie Sioux), Steven Bailey (Steve Severin), and Simon Barker (Six) began to hang around 430 King's Road and follow the Sex Pistols. They formed the core of the Bromley Contingent and, along with a small handful of others, can be regarded as those whom one cultural commentator at the time described as the "'extreme ideological wing of the Peculiars'". 

      See Paul Gorman, The Life and Times of Malcolm McLaren (Constable, 2020), p. 329, who quotes Peter York writing in an article entitled 'Them', in Harpers & Queen (October, 1976).     

[9] I'm referring here to the Prostitution exhibition (1976) by the performance art collective founded by Genesis P-Orridge - COUM Transmissions - at the Institute of Contemporary Arts in London, which included (amongst other delights) pornographic images, used sanitary products, bloody bandages, rusty knives, and dirty syringes. The opening night show featured a stripper and prostitutes and punks were invited to mingle with the gallery audience; this included members of the Bromley Contingent, some of whom - including Debbie - got their pictures in the papers. 

      Perhaps not surprisingly, the show - which ran for just over a week - caused press outrage and debate in parliament; one Tory MP described all those involved as the wreckers of civilisation. Despite criticism from almost every quarter, the ICA director, Ted Little, defended the show which is still regarded to this day - almost 50 years later - as one of the most controversial in both the ICA's history and that of British contemporary art, challenging moral and aesthetic values in a manner similar to McLaren's Sex Pistols and obliging him to thereafter up his game as a provocateur. 

 

 

Musical bonus: 'We Are All Prostitutes' by The Pop Group (Rough Trade, 1979): click here.  

    

Giovanni Dadomo: the Snivelling Shit

Giovanni Dadomo giving a superior and slightly sideways look 

to Messrs. Rotten & McLaren on Nationwide 

(BBC TV 12 Nov 1976)

 

 

I.

 

Sometimes, it can take almost fifty years before your brain makes the necessary connection and you finally realise something you really ought to have known at the time.

 

For example, it was only very recently that I twigged that the founder and frontman of the Snivelling Shits was the same Giovanni Dadomo who, in his guise as a respected music journalist, appeared on an episode of the BBC current affairs show Nationwide featuring the Sex Pistols [1]. 

 

According to Dadomo, whilst their music was a bit derivative, the group's aggressive nihilism was more of a concern, as it not only had regrettable real-world consequences, but soon became boring:

 

"Destruction for its own sake is dull, ultimately ... it doesn't offer any hope ..." [2]

 

 

II.

 

Of course, any worries Dadomo may or may not have had, didn't stop him from abandoning his flares and two-tone platform shoes and forming his own punk band the following year. 

 

However, it now seems clear to me - in a way that it wasn't back in 1977 - that the Snivelling Shits were essentially an attempt to parody the movement spearheaded by the Sex Pistols. Disconcerted by the threatening nature of the band (and, one suspects, envious of their success), Dadomo attempted to expose their crassness and musical worthlessness, as he perceived it. 

 

If the New York Dolls were, as Bob Harris famously described them, nothing more than a mock rock band, then the Snivelling Shits were similarly a mock punk band.  

 

Ironically, however, their single 'Terminal Stupid' [3] was an instant favourite (not least with John Peel, who played the track endlessly on his late night radio show) and it is now firmly established as a classic of the punk genre. 

 

He may have come across as a twat on Nationwide when confronted by Messrs. Rotten and McLaren in all their flame-haired glory, but, to be fair, Dadomo was obviously a talented and witty lyricist, as recognised by members of the Damned who asked him to co-write a couple of songs with them [4]. 

Sadly, Dadomo died in 1997. It's been suggested by some that he was the poor man's Nick Kent, but that seems unfair and a little unkind.

 

In a memorial post on a Facebook page dedicated to the Snivelling Shits, he is described (presumably by one who knew him) as a "beautiful human being; literate, musical and hilarious" as well as sensitive and highly intelligent [5].

I'm sure all of that - and more - is true. But he wasn't a Sex Pistol ...  

 

Notes

 

[1] The Sex Pistols and their manager Malcolm McLaren appeared on the BBC TV show Nationwide on 12 November, 1976. As well as being interviewed by an irritated Maggie ('I don't have a safety pin through my nose') Norden on the punk phenomenon, the band were shown performing 'Anarchy in the UK' (recorded at the BBC studios the day before). 

      Click here to view the exchange between Norden, McLaren, Rotten, and Dadomo on the BBC Archive (on Youtube).

 

[2] As can heard in the above exchange linked to, Malcolm - perhaps rather predictably - countered this by declaring: "You have to destroy in order to create, you know that. You have to break it down and build it up again in a different form." 

[3] The single 'Terminal Stupid' was released in late 1977 on the independent label Ghetto Rockers. It was later included on the album I Can't Come (Damaged Goods, 1989), described by one reviewer, Dave Thompson, as punk "at its most pristinely putrid". Click here to read Thompson's review on AllMusic. And click here to play the magnificent 'Terminal Stupid'.    

 

[4] Dadomo co-wrote 'I Just Can't Be Happy Today' with Captain Sensible - released as a single from the album Machine Gun Etiquette (Chiswick Records, 1979) - and 'There Ain't No Sanity Clause' with Rat Scabies, Captain Sensible, and Dave Vanian, released as a single in November 1980 (Chiswick). Those who wish to hear the version of this latter track recorded by the Snivelling Shits (and included on the album I Can't Come (1989)), should click here. 

 

[5] This Snivelling Shits Facebook post was published on 4 July 2015: click here. It is reproduced on punk77.co.uk - click here.

 

Queer as Punk

A punk bromance: Sid 💘 Johnny

 

'Punk is a challenge to reconsider everything you do, think or feel; 

including the ways that you love.' [1]

 

 

I. 

 

In the second volume of his memoirs - Anger is an Energy  (2014) - Johnny Rotten flatly denies the persistent rumour that he and Vicious, unlike Cook and Jones, were more than just good friends ... 

 

Perhaps one reason why this romantic myth continues to resonate is because before becoming a term used by the media to identify a form of rock music that emerged in the 1970s, the word punk had a long subcultural history rooted in illicit and deviant sexual activity.   

 

In the 16th century, for example, it was used by writers including Shakespeare as a synonym for a female prostitute and spelt rather charmingly as puncke [2]. By the late 17th century, however, it had taken on a different meaning and described a youth who is provided for by an older man in exchange for certain favours. 

 

This queer [3] etymology takes on renewed significance when one recalls the story of the Sex Pistols; an anarchic collective held together with safety pins and bondage straps which included a far wider and more diverse group of people than the actual members of the band [4]. 

 

The teens who spent their time hanging around 430 King's Road challenged heteronormative values with their behaviour, attitude, and appearance; cheerfully wearing T-shirts designed by McLaren and Westwood which included images drawn from gay porn, including homosexual cowboys, nude adolescents, and well-endowed American footballers [5].     

And so, whilst both Rotten and Vicious were for the most part straight in terms of their sexual orientation, their emphasis on non-conformity, free expression, and open acceptance of gay culture - the band and their followers would often socialise in the early days at a lesbian member's club in Soho called Louise's - was positively received within the queer community at that time.    

 

 

II. 

 

Notwithstanding what I say above, I think we should be wary of retrospectively romanticising the story of the Sex Pistols, or imposing contemporary theoretical interpretations concerning queer sexual politics and identities on to the reality of the UK punk scene in the 1970s. I don't want to be the person who says let's stick to the facts at every opportunity, but I would agree that any analysis showing a flagrant disregard for historical accuracy seems of little real value or interest.   

 

Further, as David Wilkinson points out, "once punk is separated from rooted judgement through failure to locate it within a particular conjuncture, its politics can be celebrated as uniformly positive" [6] and that's a problem: the Sex Pistols did not promise to make things better and punk wasn't entirely gay friendly; there remained elements of homophobia within it (just as there did of racism, sexism, and reactionary stupidity).   

Ultimately, for McLaren and Westwood, same-sex passion was seen as something with which to confront and discomfort the English; they wished to weaponise it, not promote gay liberation or simply camp things up for the fun of it: 

"Given [their] positioning of same-sex passion as alienated, perverse and violent, it is unsurprising that McLaren and Westwood not only seemed to have little interest in the radically transformative aims of gay liberation, but were also prone to homophobic gestures that were calculated to shock in their contempt of even reformist demands for respect, understanding and openness." [7]

 

Ultimately, as Wilkinson says, McLaren and Westwood's "was an idiosyncratic, peculiarly hybrid kind of politics, especially in relation to sexuality" [8]; one based on the radical understanding of desire as "an instinctive, irrational force capable of disrupting social norms once unanchored from the private sphere" [9], but they weren't interested in how to further loving relationships, same-sex or otherwise.   

 

And as for Johnny and Sid, for better or worse, they were more romantically fixated on Nora and Nancy than one another.   

 

 

Notes

 

[1] I'm paraphrasing Pete Shelley writing in the second issue of his self-produced punk fanzine Plaything (1978): click here. 

 

[2] Shakespeare used the word, for example, in Measure for Measure (1603-04), where Lucio suggests that since Mariana is 'neither maid, widow, nor wife', she may 'be a Puncke’ (Act 5, scene 1).

[3] I am using this term here as one that includes same-sex desire, but which is not synonymous with such. If it were up to me, as someone who finds the empty secret of non-identity philosophically more interesting than the open secret of same-sex desire, I would restrict use of the word queer to refer to forms of practice and behaviour that have nothing to do with sexuality or gender. 

      See the post of 16 March 2025, in which I discuss the term: click here. 

[4] When I think of the Sex Pistols, I certainly don't just think of Steve Jones, Paul Cook, Glen Matlock, and Johnny Rotten, but also of Malcolm McLaren, Vivienne Westwood, Jamie Reid, Jordan, Soo Catwoman, Helen of Troy, and various members of the so-called Bromley Contingent. 

 

[5] David Wilkinson makes the important point that these designs "deliberately inhabited dominant understandings of unsanctioned sexuality as perverse, sordid and violent in order to provoke a reaction" and that McLaren and Westwood were not consciously offering a set of alternative values. 

      See Wilkinson's excellent essay 'Ever Fallen In Love (With Someone You Shouldn’t Have?): Punk, Politics and Same-Sex Passion', in Key Words: A Journal of Cultural Materialism, No. 13 (2015), pp. 57-76. The line quoted from is on p. 64. 

 

[6] David Wilkinson, ibid., p. 59.

[7] Ibid., p. 65. 

 

[8] Ibid., p. 62.

 

[9] Ibid., p. 63.  

Musical bonus: Tom Robinson Band, 'Glad to be Gay', from the EP Rising Free (EMI Records, 1978): click here. 

 

 

Looking, Talking, and Thinking About Art with David Salle (Part 3)

David Salle working in his studio 

photographed by Frenel Morris (2023)

 

"Modern art has always hungered for philosophical, theoretical, and verbal expression. 

 However, the theoretical and the philosophical can be counterproductive 

if they constrain rather than liberate the imagination." - David Salle 

  

 

I.

 

If Malcolm Mclaren learnt one lesson from art school it was that it's better to be a flamboyant failure than any kind of benign success:

 

"'I realised that by understanding failure you were going to be able to improve your condition as an artist. Because you were not going to fear failure you were going to embrace it and, in doing so, maybe break the rules and by doing that, change the culture and, possibly by doing that, change life itself.'" [a]

 

And I think we can call Jack Goldstein a flamboyant failure; a cool good-looking cat, whom Salle never saw "without a leather jacket and a cigarette" [b]; the kind of artist "who thinks he has to be the prickliest cactus in the desert" [153].

 

In 2003, he committed suicide (aged 57): 

 

"The cliché would have it that gave all he had to his work, when it might be more accurate to say that apart from the work, there wasn't much in this life that he could claim as his own. [...] He was a man who had somehow failed to be 'made' by his experiences - he was only 'un-made' by them [...]" [155-156]

 

Of course, the posthumous part of his story is also familiar; "since his death, Jack has been lionized by a new generation of young artists who see in his rigid and strained sensibility a yearning for something clean and pure [...]" [156] [c].

 

In other words, he's what Nietzsche would call a posthumous individual ...

 

 

II.

 

Salle is clearly a fan of the young Frank Stella; an artist best known perhaps for his Black Paintings (1958-60), a series of twenty-four related works in a minimalist style that free painting from drawing:

 

"Stella instinctively understood something fundamental about painting: that it is made by covering a flat surface with paint [...] If a painting could be executed with a kind of internal integrity, the image - i.e., the meaning - would take care of itself." [165]

 

Some critics - and even some other artists - feared at the time that Stella's work marked the end of art. But, actually, it marked a fresh beginning; "after first stripping down painting to its essentials, the creator then populated the world with every manner of flora and fauna" [166].   

 

And, ironically, by the end of his career Stella has become, says Salle, merely a decorative painter; one who is actually closer to painters in the art nouveau tradition, than to Malevich; one whose late works "still occasionally command our attention, even awe, but more often than not leave us with a feeling of a lot of energy being expended to no particular end, of being more trouble than they're worth" [170] - ouch!

 

 

III.    

 

"Style reflects character" [172], says Salle. 

 

And if there's a single sentence which brings home just how he and I philosophically differ, this is it. For one thing, it presupposes an underlying character - some kind of essential moral quality that is straightforwardly reflected in our manner, our behaviour, and our appearance. 

 

I would say, on the contrary, that style - as a form of discipline and cruelty - shapes character and would refer to Nietzsche on this matter:

 

"To 'give style' to one's character - a great and rare art! It is practiced by those who survey all the strengths and weaknesses of their nature and then fit them into an artistic plan until every one of them appears as art and reason and even weaknesses delight the eye." [d]

 

Style, in other words, is an art of existence involving not only a single taste, but what Foucault terms techniques of the self. That is to say, a set of voluntary actions by which individuals: 

 

"not only set themselves rules of conduct, but also seek to transform themselves, to change themselves in their singular being, and to make their life into an oeuvre that carries certain aesthetic values and meets certain stylistic criteria" [e].  

 

 

IV.

 

Where Salle and I do agree, however, is on the question of appropriation - like him, I'm happy with such a practice; what is Torpedo the Ark if not a blog assembled largely of notes? 

 

Ultimately, like James Joyce - according to David Markson - I'm "'quite content to go down to posterity as a scissors and paste man'" [177]. If nothing else, as Salle says, at least this succeeds in irritating a lot of people and, besides, the act of choosing what one steals and appropriates can be "in and of itself, in the right hands" [177] an art. 

 

The greatest of appropriationists are alchemists: they transform materials. For they understand that by changing the context you create fresh meaning: "Even if you repaint, or reprint, something as close as possible to its model, you will end up making something new." [178]

 

When a critic says: 'They're someone else's ideas!' Simply reply: 'Yes, but they're mine too.'

 

 

V.     

 

This is something I also agree with and which strikes me as important:

 

"We're taught to think of modernism [...] as a story of progress and up-to-dateness, a developmental stream that seems logical, even inevitable. But some of the most interesting painting exists in the margins, apart from the official story. [...] It's a question of temperament and talent, and also of context, rather than linear progress." [189]

 

Sometimes, one needs to travel back into art history, into antiqity, into mythology, in order to project "an updated version of the past into the present" [189] and learn how to live yesterday tomorrow (as Malcolm would say). And whether we call this retrofuturism or neoclassicism it pretty much means the same thing. 

An artist, says, Salle, is ultimately "both himself and a distillation of everything relevant that preceded him" [191] [f].

 

VI.

 

Is contemporary art infantalised? 

 

Salle seems to say as much (although he doesn't use this word):
 

"In the world of contemporary art, the quantity of work that depicts, appeals to, references, critiques, or mimics childood has reached critical mass. For the first time, the international style is not a matter of form or invention but one of content. And that content is all wrapped up with regression. The art public becomes excited by the same things that babies like: bright, shiny things; simple, rounded forms; cartoons; and, always, animals. Brightly colored or shiny and highly reflective; or soft, squishy, furry, pliable - huggable." [200]

 

What's going on? 

 

Maybe, suggests Salle, it's compensatory for all the grown-up things that also define the age: "class war; government dysfunction; religious fundamentalism; the baking of the planet - take your pick, the list goes on" [199].

 

Maybe. 

 

Though I very much doubt that's how D. H. Lawrence would view things. I suspect, rather, that he'd rage against the infantalisation of art and see it as a profoundly perverse form of corruption or decadence. 

 

He'd also point to the curious fact that the perverted child artist is also an often gifted businessman, making a lot of money by turning the gallery space into a nursery and offering works that provide instant gratification and the promise of ice cream [g].  

 

 

VII.

 

Is it true, as Salle suggests, that "the qualities we admire in people [...] are often the same ones we feel in art that holds our attention" [211]?  

 

I mean, it's possible. But surely the most fascinating works of art possess (inhuman/daemonic) qualities that pass beyond admirable ...?      

 

 

VIII. 

 

Salle makes a distinction between pictorial art and presentational art; the first is all about self-expression; the latter is concerned with a set of cultural signifiers. 

 

Of course, nothing in art is simply one thing or the other. It may be convenient to provisionally posit such a binary dictinction, but there is no either/or. But, having done so, it's probably right to say that presentational art has triumphed over the last fifty years; a fact that makes Salle's heart sink. 

 

Why? 

 

Because, says Salle, we end up with art that is simply commentary and lacks emotional power. One might even say such art lacks presence or what used to be called aura:

 

"Baldly put, a work of art was said to emanate this aura as a result of the transference of energy from the artist to the work, an aesthetic variant of the law of thermodynamics." [230]

 

The problem is, that's not just baldly put, it's badly put. In fact, it's a misunderstanding of the term aura - certainly as used by Walter Benjamin, who, in a famous essay written in 1936 defined it as an artwork's unique presence in time and space [h]. 

 

In other words, aura results from cultural context and is not something invested in the work by the artist. Not for the first time, Salle is giving the latter too much credit; viewing the artist as a larger than life personality and the souce of mysterious energy; as one who is often unhampered by sanity but gifted with genius. 

 

I'm not by any means opposed to artworks that exist as actual objects crafted by hand and full of auratic authenticity. But, unable to produce such myself - and without the means to buy such - I'm perfectly content to think of art primarily as something presented on a screen or printed on the page of a book or magazine.

 

And even Salle admits that, at least since Picasso, "how well a work reproduces plays a significant role in its popularity; the most acclaimed artists from the '60s, for instance, look fabulous in reproduction" [234]. 

 

He continues:

 

"This isn't to suggest that those works didn't also have tremendous physical presence, but the fact remains most people  are primarily familiar with a work of art through a reproduction; those who have the good fortune of experiencing the painting firsthand are fewer in number, and those who have the luxury of actually living with it are very rare indeed." [234]

 

But still there are some works that look more compelling in a magazine or on a screen than sitting in a gallery space; this is what Salle terms art conceived as spectacle or as advertising; art that is ironically detached from its own form and exists happily as a pure image; art that is devoid of aura - but then, as Salle says: "It's a relief sometimes to let go of things that no longer serve." [239] [i]  

 

 

Anish Kapoor: Cloud Gate (2004-06) 

Polished stainless steel (10 x 20 x 12.8 m)

Millennium Park, Chicago, USA.

 

 

Notes

 

[a] Malcolm McLaren, quoted by Paul Gorman in The Life and Times of Malcolm McLaren (Constable, 2020), p. 49. 

      In an address given to the New York Academy of Art in 2011, Salle says: "I think it's fair to say that failure is the last taboo in American culture. [...] It might just be my sensibility, but I've always been attracted to the idea of the noble failure; the attempt at something that was probably bound to fail at some point, but the contemplation of which is exciting nonetheless. But this archetype of the noble failure doesn't seem to have much currency anymore; in fact, it probably went out of fashion  about the same time that the alienated hero was given a pink slip." [249]

      McLaren wanted to destroy success; today, artists want to be popular and succeed in the market place. Salle seems okay with this; "sometimes the most poular art is also the best" [250] and if you're a genuine artist, money and fame won't greatly change what you do (nor the amount of time spent alone in the studio).         

[b] David Salle, How to See (W. W. Norton, 2016), p. 154. All further page references to this work will be given directly in the post. 

 

[c] Later, writing of Mike Kelly - another artist who topped himself (in 2012, and also aged 57, like Goldstein) - Salle says that suicide can't be trumped in its finality and thus "makes the survivors seem small" [159].

 

[d] Nietzsche, The Gay Science, trans. Walter Kaufmann (Vintage Books, 1974), IV. 290, p. 232.

[e] Michel Foucault, The History of Sexuality 2: The Use of Pleasure, trans. Robert Hurley (Penguin Books, 1992), pp. 10-11. 

[f] Later, in a piece on Francis Picabia, Salle writes that every generation wants to revisit and revise the past in some manner and that "letting the air out out of the story of linear progress" [197] was something that characterised the work of him and his contemporaries.

[g] According to Salle; the giant bean sculpture by Anish Kapoor - pictured above at the end of the this post - is a work that says, "'There will be ice cream'" [244]; one that is very large, very shiny, and, even though its hard and metallic to the touch, one that makes you "want to cuddle it" [199], or take a selfie standing in front, smiling.   

 

[h] Benjamin's essay, 'The Work of Art in an Age of Mechanical Reproduction', can be found in Illuminations, ed. Hannah Arendt, trans. Harry Zorn (The Bodley Head, 2015), pp. 211-244. 

      See section II which opens with the lines: "Even the most perfect reproduction of a work of art is lacking in one element: its presence in time and space, its unique existence at the place where it happens to be."  

 

[i] Salle goes on to add: "I have always found it a relief to let go of stuff that I only partly believe in. It makes me feel lighter, better." [239] I interpret this as saying the abandonment of ideals that weigh us down is a crucial aspect of overcoming the spirit of gravity.

 

To read part one of this post, click here.

 

To read part two of this post, click here. 

 

To read notes on David Salle's Introduction to How to See 92016), click here.