This magnificent piece is called “Jack’s Imaginary Friend” and is by an artist called Sean Clarity.
I found it at THIS website, which specialises in works of art which take their inspiration from cult movies. How could I not love it? Here’s a few more:
“I Am Jack’s Broken Heart” by N.C. Winters
“Give Me A Name, Bastian!” By Greg Simkins & Amy Sol
I always prefer documentaries that are made while the subjects are still alive (when at all possible to attain). The feigned reverence and rose tinted view that posthumous offerings tend to display often leave a sour taste in my mouth (Such as ‘Buy The Ticket, Take The Ride‘ a hastily put together film, featuring some truly embarrassing moments, notably from Gary Busey). It is for this reason that, despite being a great admirer of Dr Thompson’s works, I have still not yet watched ‘Gonzo‘.
‘Fear And Loathing In Gonzovision‘ is an hour long BBC documentary from 1978 which follows not only Thompson, but allows equal screentime to English Illustrator Ralph Steadman (a compelling and enticing individual with magnetism that is on par with the Doctor himself). This is a rare glimpse into the chemistry that allowed their professional relationship to span several decades.Emphasising what a collaborative effort their endeavors often where.
Covering the period before Hunter’s escapades made it onscreen in ‘Where the Buffalo Roam‘, a watchable but far from classic interpretation starring Bill Murray, this is a superb little piece that offers some unique and insightful material.
Sounds like so little. Why five hundred? It is the number of words that Maurice Bendrix, of Graham Greene’s “End of the Affair” set out to write each day. Five hundred being the ideal amount that a man can produce whilst maintaining any form of legitimate scrutiny over his work. What could be misconstrued as a minor personality trait within the character, in fact tells us a great deal of the methodical practice of Greene himself.
To work within personally allocated constraints is indeed one of the most challenging aspects that any artist must face. Their art may manifest itself in words and song, or in a visual format, but the time must still be spent in the studio, garden shed or bedsit transferring grandiose schemes of creativity into something more, well, marketable. This transition can be an arduous, difficult and ultimately frustrating task. This is for the simple reason that, no matter how many good ideas are floating around inside your head, it always seems to take a damn site more effort to construct them than originally planned.
There are those who find this a natural and familiar process associated with any form of creativity, also there are easily those of great diligence and discipline, who slave away all their waking hours in the hope of producing something which does suitable justice for their purpose. Is it a dedication issue, or merely one of the difficulties of imposing a regime on oneself?
Another question that could be derived from this is could this be the factor that separates the posturing creative masses from those with any true integrity?
When the world is our own, in which to do what we will, is it easier to hide behind the illusion of productivity? For if anything, I find that when there are ideas that deserve notation, the less company I desire. The thought of meeting and sharing concepts with the same individuals on a daily basis is a frightening one indeed. How then, can you ever truly gain an outsiders perspective? Or is it better to be your own critic? This, I imagine is where the methodology comes in.
To sit and verbalise ones thoughts might be a cathartic and emotionally beneficial process, but without self censorship, the descent towards self indulgence can be easily embarked upon. In any deeply personal form of self expression, is it best to completely let go? To bare your soul and suffer what retaliation you may endure. When revising and examining material that seems to flow so freely at a given moment, how can it be that it later presents itself as hastily compiled, melodramatic and possibly just badly written?
So for the present future, I fully intend to examine my output more thoroughly than previous efforts may have suggested. Any writer cannot write for his own benefits alone, the reader must be a consideration on some level. Not that content, tone and meaning need be altered, merely presented with a greater attention to detail.
You can climb in behind Salvador Dali’s Mae West Sofa and stick your head up behind it for comedic effect. You may get in trouble though.
