Right after I saw the movie Basquiat I found this book. Admittedly, I originally watched the movie for Bowie as Warhol and Gary Oldman as Schnabel, but by the end of the movie, I was completely entranced by Basquiat.
I had read a few of Maya Angelou's poems before, but not this one. The beautiful, eloquent poetry and the harsh, fascinating artwork at first seemed like a strange combination. My first reaction was: Life doesn't frighten me, but this book does. And, yet, somehow that combination does work. It is both jarring and weirdly comforting.
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