Yesterday I went to visit an art gallery in London that was exhibiting a collection of Hunter S. Thompson’s personal photographs. I found out about it while reading the free newspapers they stuff in your face when you walk into the tube station. The gallery was located about a mile from my flat, so I decided to walk there. That and the sun was actually out for once.
Considering that Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas is one of my favorite books and the movie my #1 of all time, this was quite a treat. Couple that with the fact that I lived in the same city that he had made his own personal fortress, this was something I couldn’t miss. Ahhh, the summer of 2003, 3 months of unbridled debauchery and guiltless pleasure. Aspen. I should write a post about that experience—if fact, I will.
The interesting thing about Hunter for me was his duality. He had a very public life and was well connected, but when he retreated to his home on Owl Creek, he was something of a recluse, choosing to banish himself from society. It was peculiar to me that his estate had chosen to publicly display such intimate photos. I found later that the exhibit was coupled with the release of an expansive book on Hunter’s life. A very expensive book. They had a copy at the exhibit, and I spent almost an hour reading through it. It you have $350 to shell out, you should purchase this 50 pound behemoth.
The last page of the book contained a passage that I greatly relate to. He was opining on the goings on in Heaven and Hell, were they to exist. This is the last portion and the most relevant for me…
“Maybe there is no Heaven. Or maybe this is all pure gibberish—a product of the demented imagination of a lazy drunken hillbilly with a heart full of hate who has found out a way to live out there where the real winds blow—to sleep late, have fun, get wild, drink whiskey and drive fast on empty streets with nothing in mind except falling in love and not getting arrested. . .
Res ipsa loquitur. Let the good times roll.
HST
Paradise Valley"
– excerpt from ‘Author’s Note,’ Generation of Swine
The photos themselves were entertaining as well. They chronicled Thompson’s life through his numerous adventures such as his early days as a foreign correspondent in Puerto Rico, living in Big Sur in the 1960s, his time on the road with the Hell’s Angels, running for Sheriff of Pitkin county in 1970, and many personal moments with friends and family throughout the years. All prints are in a limited edition of only 10 and averaged around $4000 a piece.
Something I didn’t know: Originally, Hunter requested that his memorial cannon be built to a specification of 150 feet. Johnny Depp found out that the Statute of Liberty was 151 feet, so they made the cannon 153 feet tall.