"'Terry is one of the more charismatic figures in downtown culture,' the gallery owner, Jeffrey Deitch, will later tell the New York Observer, and tonight's impromptu block party certainly attests to that. One whole stretch of Wooster Street has been cordoned off by the NYPD, such is the crowd milling about. There is a Red Cross emergency worker stationed inside the airless and overcrowded space. Terryworld is a strange and contradictory place where art and fashion and pornography converge, and where, for the time being at least, pornography is the dominant aesthetic."Terrys diary . com
interview here . com
The International Syndicate of Cult Film Critics aim to celebrate shoddy B-movies and straight-to-video films. We will cover these flicks fondly, with tongues firmly kept in our cheeks. The one thing we ask of those who contribute to the Club is that you must watch the film in its entirety, even if this means having to strap yourself down onto a chair and getting your eyelids locked out like Alex DeLarge from ‘A Clockwork Orange’. It is imperative that you absorb the visual treats.
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"Drunk at the matinee" is a collection of candid poetry about stupid shit that we all experience from day to day.
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