Friday, March 28, 2008

Gonzo

Hunter S. Thompson, Self Portrait, In White Whale, Las Vegas, circa 1970s.

"Strani ricordi in quella nervosa notte a Las Vegas. Sono passati cinque anni? Sei? Sembra una vita. Quel genere di apice che non tornerà mai più. San Francisco e la metà degli anni sessanta erano un posto speciale ed un momento speciale di cui fare parte. Ma nessuna spiegazione, nessuna miscela di parole, musica e ricordi poteva toccare la consapevolezza di essere stato là, vivo, in quell'angolo di tempo e di mondo, qualunque cosa significasse. C'era follia in ogni direzione, ad ogni ora, potevi sprizzare scintille dovunque, c'era una fantastica, universale, sensazione che qualsiasi cosa facessimo fosse giusta, che stessimo vincendo. È quello, credo, era il nostro appiglio, quel senso di inevitabile vittoria contro le forze del vecchio e del male, non in senso violento o cattivo, non ne avevamo bisogno, la nostra energia avrebbe semplicemente prevalso, avevamo tutto lo slancio, cavalcavamo la cresta di un'altissima e meravigliosa onda. E ora, meno di cinque anni dopo, potevi andare su una ripida collina di Las Vegas e, se guardavi ad ovest, e con il tipo giusto di occhi, potevi quasi vedere il segno dell'acqua alta, quel punto, dove l'onda infine si è infranta ed è tornata indietro".


(Paura e Delirio a Las Vegas, adattamento di Terry Gilliam dal testo di Hunter S. Thompson)

Poco più di un anno fa la M+B Gallery di Los Angeles ha presentato un’esposizione che raccoglie le fotografie realizzate da Hunter S. Thompson nel corso della sua vita, tra contemplazioni mistiche, occhi neri, pistole e molto altro (qui immagini dalla mostra alla Michael Hoppen Gallery di Londra). Enjoy!

Hunter S. Thompson, Typewriter Still Life, Big Sur, circa 1960s.

"It seems like a lifetime, or at least a Main Era — the kind of peak that never comes again. San Francisco in the middle sixties was a very special time and place to be a part of. Maybe it meant something. Maybe not, in the long run... but no explanation, no mix of words or music or memories can touch that sense of knowing that you were there and alive in that corner of time and the world. Whatever it meant...
History is hard to know, because of all the hired bullshit, but even without being sure of 'history' it seems entirely reasonable to think that every now and then the energy of a whole generation comes to a head in a long fine flash, for reasons that nobody really understands at the time — and which never explain, in retrospect, what actually happened.
My central memory of that time seems to hang on one or five or maybe forty nights — or very early mornings — when I left the Fillmore half-crazy and, instead of going home, aimed the big 650 Lightning across the Bay Bridge at a hundred miles an hour... booming through the Treasure Island tunnel at the lights of Oakland and Berkeley and Richmond, not quite sure which turnoff to take when I got to the other end... but being absolutely certain that no matter which way I went I would come to a place where people were just as high and wild as I was: no doubt at all about that...
There was madness in any direction, at any hour. If not across the Bay, then up the Golden Gate or down 101 to Los Altos or La Honda... You could strike sparks anywhere. There was a fantastic universal sense that whatever we were doing was right, that we were winning...
And that, I think, was the handle — that sense of inevitable victory over the forces of Old and Evil. Not in any mean or military sense; we didn't need that. Our energy would simply PREVAIL. There was no point in fighting — on our side or theirs. We had all the momentum; we were riding the crest of a high and beautiful wave...
So now, less than five years later, you can go up on a steep hill in Las Vegas and look West, and with the right kind of eyes you can almost see the high-water mark — that place where the wave finally broke and rolled back".


(Hunter S. Thompson, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas)

Less than a year ago, M+B Gallery of Los Angeles hosted an exhibition of photographs made by Hunter S. Thompson, a mix of mystical contemplations, black eyes, guns and much more (see some images also from the exhibition at Michael Hoppen Gallery in London).
Enjoy!

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