“Suicide is the most sincere form of self-criticism.”
I had just finished two-and-a-half years at a community college and transferred to a “real college.” The meeting with my counselor was in late November, so the variety of classes were sparse, unique ones kicked to the curb.
It’s true that I have very little idea of what I’ll be savoring next, but at the same time, I have a great idea of what I will be ingesting tomorrow, or next week, even six months from now.
Kim Carsons, the “morbid youth of unwholesome proclivities” who stars in William S. Burroughs’s novel The Place of Dead Roads, would love Richard Barnett’s gorgeously illustrated new book, The Sick Rose: Disease and the Art of Medical Illustration.
Refusing to be crippled, I decided to face my fears head on with a method that analysts like Freud would call, “conditioning.” I listened to old mix-tapes, read old love letters, even saw Blue Valentine in theaters. And you know what? I survived.
“If you live to be a hundred, I want to live to be a hundred minus one day, so I never have to live without you.”
We’d seen this movie before; suddenly, we were living it, even as we were seeing it through the aestheticizing lens of media memories.
More than just the preeminent commentator on the social role and cultural politics of graphic design in contemporary culture, the English cultural critic Rick Poynor is our most reliable dashboard navigator through the visual landscape, a politically astute, historically literate GPS plotting our course through the forest of signs.