I love the uncomfortable beauty of a Mapplethorpe photograph. It’s as if you just invaded someone’s personal space and you’re not really welcome, but you’re still free to stay and watch. Well, unless it’s a naked man, then you kinda move away by yourself. Or you don’t. It usually depends on your gender.
Robert Mapplethorpe is currently exhibiting in LA, if you happen to be around. Amal, you should go, you lucky bitch.
Can’t figure out if I’m too busy or just too lazy to blog. Probably both. Spring’s just great though.
Edit: Mappletrophe is currently being exhibited in Paris as well. Twice, in fact. Here you can read an interview with Patricia Morrisoe, his biographer.