Blazing the Trail: An interview with Peter Owen
On several occasions I met DalÃ. He was pretty unpleasant; not directly unpleasant — he wasn’t nasty. He was a major artist, but I felt he lacked integrity. I was there once and during the course of the evening we were given some horrible sweet sparkling wine which was palmed off as champagne. I met his wife Gala once as well when we first made contact, although they didn’t answer letters and I had to go to his suite in a hotel on the rue de Rivoli. He was into money, so if something made him money he was interested. He said to me, ‘Dalà loves money. Have you brought me some?’
Steven Fowler talks to legendary publisher Peter Owen.
ampere’s and
Today’s quick lit [& alt.cult] links from around the web: Ballardian presents the Savoy Books microfiction competition & Sado-masochism & stolen shoe polish, John Richardson revisits Francis Bacon‘s legacy & Paul Auster: “Young women on bicycles I find very erotic, I have to say.” (via @danwagstaff) & Roland Barthes is still here (via A&L Daily) […]
Warm Womb
Time is passing and with it the sense of blood loss. Foisting around desperately, trying to put on the tourniquet to stop the bleeding. Waking up in the morning to the sharp clarity of few distractions: the unread emails in the inbox. The coffee, the bacon, the work, waiting for me like a live-in partner with crossed arms, ‘Where have you been all night?’ No more illusions left whatsoever. No more holidays, no more family – Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years, birthdays, special days to get excited for and believe in. Just the dull roar of time, like the passing of a jet engine.
By Aaron Lake Smith.