Sleep Is An Eight-hour Peep Show Of

I Felt The Pressure Of Imagination Against The Doors Of My Mind Was So Great That They Were Going To Burst.

The Car As We Know It Is On The Way Out. To A Large Extent, I Deplore Its Passing, For As A Basically Old-fashioned Machine, It Enshrines A Basically Old-fashioned Idea: Freedom. In Terms Of Pollution, Noise And Human Life, The Price Of That Freedom May Be High, But Perhaps The Car, By The Very Muddle And Confusion It Causes, May Be Holding Back The Remorseless Spread Of The Regimented, Electronic Society.

People Will Begin To Explore All The Sidestreets Of Sexual Experience, But They Will Do It Intellectually. . . . Sex Won't Take Place In The Bed, Necessarily--it'll Take Place In The Head!

Nudity In Photography, Whether Involving Adults Or Children, Is A Subject Sinking Under A Freight Of Political And Moral Disapproval It Could Never Hope To Support, And This Is Not The Place For Me To Get Out The Bilge Pump. I Will Only Say That Critics Who Tremble So Fiercely At The Thought Of The Voyeuristic Male Gaze Miss The Point That Distance Generates Mystery And Enchantment, And Expresses The Awe With Which The Male Imagination Regards All Women.

The Surrealists, And The Modern Movement In Painting As A Whole, Seemed To Offer A Key To The Strange Postwar World With Its Threat Of Nuclear War. The Dislocations And Ambiguities, In Cubism And Abstract Art As Well As The Surrealists, Reminded Me Of My Childhood In Shanghai.