THE ONLY PEOPLE FOR ME ARE THE MAD ONES, THE ONES WHO ARE MAD TO LIVE, MAD TO TALK, MAD TO BE SAVED, DESIROUS OF EVERYTHING AT THE SAME TIME, THE ONES WHO NEVER YAWN OR SAY A COMMONPLACE THING, BUT BURN, BURN, BURN, LIKE FABULOUS YELLOW ROMAN CANDLES EXPLODING LIKE SPIDERS ACROSS THE STARS AND IN THE MIDDLE YOU SEE THE BLUE CENTERLIGHT POP AND EVERYBODY GOES "AWWW!" Text by Jack Kerouac.
There was darkness all around me. And then someone took me by the hand. There was brightness too. The light dazzled me. I made every... Read More

Photo by Max Vadukul
An 1980s photograph by Max Vadukul for Yohji Yamamoto speaks to a creative relationship that still endures. Max attended the Women’s Spring Summer 2024 show... Read More

I’m young. I might have forgotten the best and deepest things. I look like a good fresh memory. My mind is dying. You could give... Read More

Symplegma by John Henry Fuseli

Abstract Expressionist, Joan Mitchell, in her studio. Paris, 1956.

Ingrid Bergman in Journey to Italy (Roberto Rossellini, 1954)
Where do you go to my lovely?

Photo by Cristina Malcorra

Photo by David William Baum. 90º












































