One Thursday in 1982, Jean-Michel tells Suzanne to stand up and walk, they are going to the MoMA. He tells Suzanne to wear his clothes. She ties his pants around her waist with a rope. His sweater hangs down to her knees.
At the museum Jean-Michel takes a bottle of water out of his coat and walks through the halls sprinkling the water here and there around him. “I’d piss like a dog if I could,” he says, as they wander past paintings by Pollock, Picasso, Kline and Braque. Suzanne does not even ask what he is doing. She knows this is one of his voodoo tricks.
“There are no black men in museums,” he says. “Try counting…” Suzanne cannot find even one.
“This is another white man’s cotton plantation,” he explains.
When they get back home Jean-Michel puts on a Charlie Parker tape and tells Suzanne to be very quiet.
It begins to rain outside, a slow, dark rain that will not stop for three days. –Jennifer Clement, Widow Basquiat
(via Clayton Cubitt on Instagram http://ift.tt/1LGyuOj)