My Library

Once it was pointed out, however, it became clear enough -- and it also became clear that I had spent nearly ten years dead in the artistic bilge water without even a clue that I was in the water. The phrase "political correctness" had not yet emerged, of course. But my work had fallen victim to such an hypothetical creature. I’ll not bore you with the cataclysmic effects this produced within my psyche -- save to say that I stayed drunk for a week, slashed one of my best paintings in rage -- and submitted my two-years advance notice of resignation to the United Nations, itself somewhat overloaded with Marxist going’s on. These cataclysmic effects arose mostly from having to admit to and deal with MY OWN abysmal naiveté and stupidity. As a result of this defacement to my artistic ego, I realized that I didn’t know very much about Marxism -- or about Communism, since the two were completely intertwined. I set about correcting that deplorable gap with an angry passion that left no stone unturned. I was eventually able to write MY OWN essay tracking the Marxist influence in art (the essay was eventually published in the Spring Special Issue of The American Theosophist (1982) under the title of "Unbinding Prometheus"). Once one got into the dimensions of international Marxist-Communism, well, here is a big and very important part of human history -- and other than watching STAR TREK, this pursuit I undertook with in-depth gusto. Many of my friends thought I had become somewhat overbaked in this regard.