Boom for real ...

I read some pages from Basquiat's notebooks - 

What about yellow ? he asked - 

Then, on another page, he'd written shining shoes in St Louis - 

I wandered through the pristine white labyrinth -

There he was, the edgy wounded angel, dancing to strange bebop - 

There were his spray painted aperçus - 

There were his paintings, strange fruits of the chaotic city - 

Each one took me inside it - 

I saw his ancient gods, his hurts, the colours from which his crown was made - 

11.30

Friday 13 October 2017

Barbican 

London