I hadn't thought of it until today, but Amy Winehouse was surely the ur-myth for most of the women with whom I make pictures. Everything about her. And I have to say that I was enthralled with her a bit, too. I didn't pay much attention to her, but when I heard her and even more when I saw her, I couldn't turn away. She was what had gone wrong, a terrifyingly beautiful image of disintegration. Disintegrated. She will be missed without missing much herself, I think. We will slog on to the brutal end.
Maybe it was the Norwegian Shooter that sent her over the edge. Or maybe it was the European Financial Crisis. Or, as it leads many of us to the brink, perhaps it was Global Warming. But more likely it was all of the things piled together that a normal mortal being, no matter how talented, can do nothing about. We all wither eventually in the face of hatred and stupidity. There is only so much a simple, fragile psyche can take.
Today, I divide the world into two types: The Rupert Murdochs and the Amy Winehouses. You get what I mean.
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