I went through a phase in which I agreed (although slightly less volubly) with R Hughes re R Rauschenberg, but then I found WS Burroughs playing with similar ideas with more aggression and originality (although with less skill) and I changed sides. Further, Rauschenberg couldn’t write, while Burroughs’ Tangier stuff is better even than that other great novel of hot seaside cut and thrust, The hairdressers of St Tropez.
(While we’re here, I’d like to draw to your attention Espectro de Brocken, written by one Jerónimo Ledesma in Buenos Aires (and recommended by one of Salamanca’s more enlightened residents, Carlos Ferrero Martín), which seems to be dedicated to nineteenth century addiction and perversion.)
Similar posts
Back soon
Yes, but not drugs addiction nor sexual perversion: just everyday life under capitalism. Thank you for the link. Jerónimo Ledesma.