Consumerism Is So Weird. Its A Sort

Pop Artists Deal With The Lowly Trivia Of Possessions And Equipment That The Present Generation Is Lugging Along With It On Its Safari Into The Future.

If I Don't Write, I Begin To Feel Unsettled And Uneasy, As I Gather People Do Who Are Not Allowed To Dream.

Electronic Aids, Particularly Domestic Computers, Will Help The Inner Migration, The Opting Out Of Reality. Reality Is No Longer Going To Be The Stuff Out There, But The Stuff Inside Your Head. It's Going To Be Commercial And Nasty At The Same Time.

Everywhere - All Over Africa And South America - You See These Suburbs Springing Up. They Represent The Optimum Of What People Want. There's A Certain Sort Of Logic Leading Towards These Immaculate Suburbs. And They're Terrifying, Because They Are The Death Of The Soul. This Is The Prison This Planet Is Being Turned Into.

I Feel That The Surrealists Have Created A Series Of Valid External Landscapes Which Have Their Direct Correspondences Within Our Own Minds.