Keith Haring Journals (21 page)

I am sitting at the airport in Milano waiting for Juan [Rivera] to arrive from New York (Juan No. 2).

I arrived back in Milano two days ago after the Tokyo trip.

When I arrived in Tokyo I learned that Brion Gysin had died. I hope that he is safe. I sent a drawing from Tokyo that I had made to be buried with his body at the cremation ceremony last week. I found out yesterday that the person the drawing had been sent to had a mental breakdown. So who knows what happened to the drawing.

I remember Brion telling me, more than once, about how frightened he was about death for the simple reason that he pondered the possibility of having to repay for all the things he had done, said, written and painted in his life. What if God is, after all, a woman—a very angry woman?

I’m sure he’s fine. I think a lot of people learned a lot of things from Brion. Unfortunately much of his importance has gone unnoticed or at least unacknowledged. I feel lucky to have met him and enjoyed a few years of his long life. He is a legend.

Brion’s writings and especially his paintings have helped me understand myself and my work in a very important way. He was difficult to keep up with. A kind of saint from the underworld (or other-world)?

He understood my work (and life) in a way that only he could, because he lived it. His paintings give my paintings historical precedent.

He has been called the “grandfather of graffiti” because of his “writing paintings.” Crossing the gap between East and West, he turned calligraphy into a kind of surrealist writing. From his expulsion from the Surrealist group by André Breton (for being gay) to his years spent in Morocco and Paris he has been an “outsider.” Usually written out of history instead of in.

Brion sometimes complained of this sort of conspiracy of un-acknowledgement, but I think inside it was the source of a kind of private personal satisfaction. Being popular, he knew, has its drawbacks. In a way, his purity and “other-ness” was preserved and almost exalted by being “the outsider.” As usual, time will tell: He and his contributions will be respected for generations to come.

It seemed to me that Brion had done . . . everything (been everywhere) and somehow come out on top, but not knowing which end the top was on.

I will miss Brion, but I hope he lives on, in a way, through me and through the things I learned from him. If I could accomplish a portion of things he has, I would be happy.

I forgot to write down the Timothy Leary watch story (or stories).

Timmy got a watch as a present from his wife, Barbara, before he had met me. Consequently, during a trip to L.A., I visited their house, after a timid invitation by Barbara. I say timid because she said she had something she wanted me to see, but was hoping I wouldn’t be mad. I was curious. It turned out she had painted their dining room table
à la
[sic] Swatch with my figures running around the top of the table. I was flattered and surprised, not angry.

Sometimes this kind of transformation is the most interesting thing for me to see. Like the “break-dancer” graffiti I saw in Milano yesterday that is in the manner of Haring. I love seeing my drawings re-drawn by admirers and making the images become part of the universally available IMAGE BANK. It makes them become an undeniable “fact.”

Timmy tells this great story about a recent confrontation with some campus police at an over-filled lecture hall in a conservative university. The police wanted him to stop his lecture because the over-capacity crowd was a “fire hazard.” When these students rejected the idea of ending the lecture, tension started building. Timmy had to talk to the police to try to find another solution, to find a way to continue the lecture and defuse the confrontation.

Timmy was having a heated argument with the “captain” of the campus police when the policeman stopped in mid-sentence. He’d noticed Timmy’s Keith Haring watch and exclaimed, “Oh, that’s a great watch.” Timmy explains this as the “power” the watch had to catch the attention and change the mood of “even” this angry cop.

Sitting outside in shorts on a porch painted yellow and blue with blue tables and chairs with lots of flies trying to make myself start to write.

I’ve been to Brazil for three weeks already and haven’t written anything yet. I read
Neuromancer
by William Gibson and
The Autobiography of Malcolm X
and
Extermination
by Bill Burroughs and re-read Brion Gysin’s
The Last Museum
. I painted a few paintings on the walls of Kenny’s house on the beach outside of Ilheus.

And then I found out Andy Warhol had died. Since then it has been hard to think of anything else. This sort of changes my schedule.

I’ll return to New York on March 16 and go right away to Europe. To Belgium to check out the place I’m supposed to have a show in June in Knokke and then to Germany to work on sculptures in a steel factory outside of Düsseldorf (I’m supposed to be making the maquettes now) and then to Munich to put the finishing touches on the Carousel for Luna Luna, the artists’ amusement park. Then return to N.Y. in time for Andy’s memorial on April 1. Then I get to stay in N.Y. and paint a painting for Mr. Chow’s new restaurant in Kyoto and finish the sets/costumes for the dance piece with Jennifer Muller and Yoko Ono. After the opening night of that piece, April 21, I leave for Europe. Again.

[I’m going] for a group show at Beaubourg in Paris and to do a mural at a children’s hospital there and to work on the sculptures in Germany and then to Tokyo to judge a sculpture competition for Parco. Supposedly designing street signs for some new streets in Tokyo, also.

Then back to Europe or America till June 1, when I have to be on TV in Brussels or Antwerp and open a show in Antwerp on June 4. June 5, Luna Luna opens. Then stay in Europe for opening of Knokke show and sculpture project and maybe to do a mural in a building in Düsseldorf.

That is it up till July and for now that is all that is planned.

This gives me sufficient time to stay busy and keep my mind and body occupied—and keep my mind off of what is disappearing around me. After Bobby Breslau died in January, I had to start to deal with a new situation of aloneness. Bobby was always a kind of guiding (aesthetic) spirit to help keep me on the right path for the last few years. His opinion was highly regarded and I respected his taste and judgment. Ultimately it was my decision, always, but his strong opinion helped sway those decisions. There cannot be another Party of Life without Bobby, although we (Bobby, Julia Gruen and I) had already decided we wouldn’t do one this year. It changes things in a funny way. It’s kind of like a bird getting thrown out of the nest. The last few years especially have been important and challenging times to make the right choices and chart the right path. Bobby and Andy were instrumental in helping shape that path.