$F
2011 | 12 x 16″ | graphite on vellum
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The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing but burn, burn, burn like fabulous roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes ‘Awww!’— Jack Kerouac
Careful now. We’re dealing here with a myth. This city is a point upon a map of fog; Lemuria in a city unknown. Like us, It doesn’t quite exist.— Ambrose Bierce, San Francisco journalist,poet, and novelist of the early 1900’s
It’s a mad city, inhabited by perfectly insane people whose women are of remarkable beauty.— Rudyard Kipling
Your city is remarkable not only for its beauty. It is also, of all the cities in the United States, the one whose name, the world over, conjures up the most visions and more than any other, incites one to dream.— Georges Pompidou
Perpetual spring, the flare of adventure in the blood, the impulse of men who packed Virgil with their bean-bags on the overland journey, conspired~ to make San Francisco a city of artists.— William Henry Irwin
It’s an odd thing, but anyone who disappears is said to be seen in San Francisco. It must be a delightful city and possess all the attractions of the next world.Oscar Wilde
The cool, grey city of love.— George Sterling
San Francisco is 49 square miles surrounded by reality. — Paul Kantner (Jefferson Airplane)
