Keith Haring Journals (30 page)

I hope that I will make some advances to break open this game. Maybe the way to do it is to not sell anything else. Or maybe it is to continue the same way, carefully deciding which things to do and which things not to do, doing more and more “public” art and selling less and less of my work. (However, it will only create a bigger problem after my lifetime—to decide ownership and distribution—if I just stockpile everything.)

The only time I am happy is when I am working. If I work, I produce “things.” But I don’t want to watch these “things” treated like stocks and bonds. I don’t want the things I have already made to interfere with what I will make. I don’t want what I have made to dictate what I should or should not make or how much I should work. I wish I could make things all the time and never have to think about what happens to them afterward; I just want to “make” them.

After writing this I proceeded to do ten gouache-and-ink drawings and then eleven ink drawings on Japanese paper. Being a little frustrated and tired, but forcing myself to continue drawing, produced some interesting results in the last ten drawings. I was using a Japanese brush on Japanese paper and I began to do abstract drawing/writings that looked like Japanese calligraphy. I switched brushes and procedures for each drawing and the resulting eleven drawings were unpredictably interesting as a group. Very Brion Bysin, very Japanese, a bit Condo and very close to my original sumi brushwork from the Seventies. Finish, tired and exhausted, and watch bits of
Reanimator
.

Wake up and go to the Casino to hang the show. Carry all the paintings from the Penguin after photographing and signing them. We need two Polaroids each: for Tony and for insurance. We re-confirm our request for five Prince tickets for Monday night. The man from the record company assures me it should be no problem. Finish arranging paintings. Return to doctor to check sinuses; he says they are less swollen. After all paintings are in place and all drawings hung, we go over a list of works for labels and pricing. Long discussion with Tony about the pieces, etc. This is very difficult but, I suppose, very important.

I go to the Penguin to paint three vases: one for Monique Perlstein and two for Monique Nellens, hoping to restore my faith in art by painting instead of pricing. I decide I want to finish alone and ride the bicycle home, so Juan and Jason take a ride to the house with someone else. I finish and have a wank and ride solemnly to the beach. I drive for a few miles, around the sand dunes. I keep thinking about Martin Burgoyne for some reason, except it’s not sad anymore; it’s something else now.

Somewhere, herein, lies the importance of being an artist. Artists help the world go forward, and at the same time make the transition smoother and more comprehensible. Often it is difficult to isolate the actual effect of artists on the physical world of “reality”: their effect is so much a part that it is part of the interpretation or experience of “reality” itself. We see as we have been taught “to see” and we experience as we have “been shown” to experience. Each new creation becomes part of the interpretation/definition of the “thing” that will come next; at the same time becoming a kind of summation of everything that has preceded it. This constant state of flux is recorded in time by events and within events by the “things” that populate, define and compose these events. Since he creates them, these “things” are the responsibility of the artist. They must be constructed with care and consideration (aesthetics) since it is these “things” alone that will bring “meaning” and “value” to events and consequently our lives. By artists, I don’t mean only painters and sculptors and musicians, writers, dramatists, dancers, etc., etc., but
all
forms of artists within the labor force: carpenters, plumbers, draftsmen, cooks, florists, bricklayers, etc., etc. Every decision is, after all, an aesthetic decision when you are changing, arranging, creating, destroying, or imagining “things.”

So-called “primitive” cultures understood the importance of this concept being applied to every aspect of their lives. This helped to create a very rich, meaningful existence in total harmony with the physical “reality” of the world.

Contemporary man, with his blind faith in science and progress, hopelessly confused by the politics of money and greed and abuse of power, deluded by what appears to be his “control” of “the situation,” etc., etc., believes in his “superiority” over his environment and other animals. He has lost touch with his own sense of purpose or meaning. Most religions are so hypocritically outdated, and suited to fit the particular problems of earlier times, that they have no power to provide liberation and freedom, and no power to give “meaning” beyond an empty metaphor or moral code. This lack of meaning lies more in the “things” themselves than the ideas and thoughts we use to describe and explain these “things.” These “things” are part of a cyclical pattern, since they are used to explain other “things,” and they are the results of ideas that manipulate other “things” and they are the source of and the result of thoughts and ideas. They are both subject and object. That is why it is so difficult and so important for artists to interfere with (and enhance) this ongoing cycle of meaning and metaphor, subject and object. The only way that this cycle becomes enriched, and hence more fruitful and meaningful, is through the insertion of aesthetic manipulation.

As new “things” are created, the thoughts and ideas that will become the “interpretation” and “response” to these new “things” will also be the source of new thoughts and ideas and newer “things.” Time marches on . . .

I’m sure this is not all airtight, but the basic idea is right. Art is important, and important artists (respected ideas) are important because their ideas and creations are widely discussed and dispersed. The responsibility that carries with it is, for me, mind-boggling. I feel it is my duty to spend the rest of my life trying to understand what the role of an artist should be, to be situated so that I am in total harmony with myself and the world. My other responsibility is to make these discoveries known, to the best of my ability, through my work, (i.e., the “things” I create).

I sign the edition of prints. Alex arrives at 8:05 in Brussels. Juan goes to pick him up at the airport. I have an interview for TV at the Penguin while I am painting Monique’s shirt, pants, coat, hat, etc., for tomorrow. I finish hanging the rest of the show and eat lunch. Another talk with Tony to go over prices and how much I want in case they do a package deal. It is very hard to determine. We agree on everything one by one, and he assures me I will be given an itemized list of works and amounts I will receive. Several of the pieces are already sold and more collectors are arriving. I take another long bike ride to the beach. When I come back Pierre has arrived with François Boisrond. He has the proofs and contract from Lucky Strike. Everything looks great except, of course, they don’t want to use the one with the lady (pseudo-Picasso) smoking a cigarette because it is “too strong.”

I want to look at the show quietly, with no people. I get the key and go inside. After 20 minutes, this kid (Baptiste Lignel) comes in who looks like a cuter, younger version of me, or maybe a cross between me and Tweety Bird. Anyway, he’s real shy but eventually explains he is the son of a collector from Paris and they had come all the way for my show. We talked a while. He had very strong opinions about which work he preferred and why. He was very adamant that I should continue the bold, simple style, and spend less time on the “newer,” more intricate style. He said, “You’re the only one who can do this, so you should keep doing it. Other people can paint the other way, but nobody can paint like this.” We also discussed my visibility in France and the unavailability of my things (Pop Shop) in Paris. After talking a while I jokingly told him I should hire him to be my manager. Now that I think of it, a 13-year-old manager may not be a bad idea. He was really bright and we had a great conversation.

Wake up. People are already arriving. Jean Tinguely with Jeffrey Deitch and Jean’s girlfriend with dog. Marie Françoise from Daniel Templon arrives and says Daniel is on his way. Later he arrives with his wife and baby. The Dragon is full of kids and people grabbing their free T-shirts from the boxes. We had a problem with the ink on the first batch of T-shirts, so we got them for cost and are giving them away. As always, this got out of hand and we had to put the remaining ones away. People came from everywhere. A lot of friends I have met during the past two months in Europe came for lunch. The friends from Hans Mayer gallery and Hans himself. Hans was just in New York City yesterday and came to Knokke today—crazy! The two girlfriends we met in Düsseldorf drove all the way, also. Jan Erik and his friends from Amsterdam. Helena with her new husband, from Amsterdam. Patricia (tattoo) and a friend from Amsterdam. Plus, everyone in Belgium who I’ve met in the last month. It was like a wedding party. There was a huge tent set up on the lawn (in case of rain) and tables set around the lawn; several waiters and cooks; three-course meal with cold salmon and then hot ham and spinach and potatoes and then homemade mousse and homemade sorbet and ice cream.

There were lots of kids playing everywhere; kids on the trampoline, kids drawing in the Dragon. The lunch went from 1:00 to 5:00. The weather was incredible. It was the warmest, sunniest day I had seen since my trip to Belgium. It was almost too warm! It seemed like the official beginning of summer. Everyone was in good spirits and mingling with each other. Klaus Richter brought me a little painting that is really beautiful. Everyone was wearing the T-shirts and having a great time. By the time it was time to go to the Casino I was already exhausted. At the Casino we had to first stand in front of the big mural while people made speeches in Flemish and French and then in English (the mayor). Then Roger made a nice little speech in English and ended by saying, “Let the music begin,” at which time Rita Mitsouko started blaring through the sound system. Nobody was allowed to enter the exhibition yet. Everyone had to wait till I officially opened the show by walking into the exhibit with the mayor and a glass of beer.

It was pretty amazing; I never did this before. It was a great “opening.” There was a mad rush of people into the exhibition space, but mostly toward me. Everyone that had heard about my “signing” in Antwerp had returned with more things. Since I have, now, a reputation for signing things, people expect me to do it. This can become a bit of a problem. I don’t mind doing it when I choose to do it, but when I feel forced to do it, I lose my patience very quickly. Many people really become quite rude if you explain you’d rather talk to your guests and not sign their shirt(s). There were a lot of people who had traveled quite a long way to see me, and I really wanted to talk to them. I was very annoyed after a while and simply refused to sign any more things. The problem is, there is always an exception: the person you really
have
to sign for (a friend, a patron, a child, etc.) and as soon as you sign this one exception, all the others come running.

I woke late and had tea and breakfast. I had promised an interview with German
Esquire
magazine since they had come all the way for the opening. The interviewer was quite interesting and intelligent, so it was a very easy and engaging interview. When people are understanding everything you’re talking about and inspiring deeper conversations, I can talk for hours. We had a nice long talk, but had to end because we were running out of tape. Besides which the man was here to discuss the “video shorts” project. We talked a little and exchanged addresses and numbers, and I decided I need to think about it more before I make any decisions to begin.

I walk back to the house and run into Niki de St. Phalle, who has come for my show. She doesn’t like opening galas, but wanted to see the exhibit and also see people living in her Dragon. Nobody has really lived there for the entire time it’s been here—15 years. She liked the show and is interested in trading something sometime. I would love to visit her houses in Italy. I call London to find out the name of our hotel for tomorrow. We have to leave early to drive to Antwerp to get the tickets at the door for the Prince concert. We drive to Antwerp and get the tickets and passes, which are actually just souvenirs, since you can’t go backstage with them.