I am sitting at the airport in Milano waiting for Juan [Rivera] to arrive from New York (Juan No. 2).

I arrived back in Milano two days ago after the Tokyo trip.

When I arrived in Tokyo I learned that Brion Gysin had died. I hope that he is safe. I sent a drawing from Tokyo that I had made to be buried with his body at the cremation ceremony last week. I found out yesterday that the person the drawing had been sent to had a mental breakdown. So who knows what happened to the drawing.

I remember Brion telling me, more than once, about how frightened he was about death for the simple reason that he pondered the possibility of having to repay for all the things he had done, said, written and painted in his life. What if God is, after all, a woman—a very angry woman?

I’m sure he’s fine. I think a lot of people learned a lot of things from Brion. Unfortunately much of his importance has gone unnoticed or at least unacknowledged. I feel lucky to have met him and enjoyed a few years of his long life. He is a legend.

Brion’s writings and especially his paintings have helped me understand myself and my work in a very important way. He was difficult to keep up with. A kind of saint from the underworld (or other-world)?

He understood my work (and life) in a way that only he could, because he lived it. His paintings give my paintings historical precedent.

He has been called the “grandfather of graffiti” because of his “writing paintings.” Crossing the gap between East and West, he turned calligraphy into a kind of surrealist writing. From his expulsion from the Surrealist group by André Breton (for being gay) to his years spent in Morocco and Paris he has been an “outsider.” Usually written out of history instead of in.

Brion sometimes complained of this sort of conspiracy of unacknowledgement, but I think inside it was the source of a kind of private personal satisfaction. Being popular, he knew, has its drawbacks. In a way, his purity and “other-ness” was preserved and almost exalted by being ”the outsider.” As usual, time will tell. He and his contributions will be respected for generations to come.

It seemed to me that Brion had done…everything (been everywhere) and somehow come out on top, but not knowing which end the top was on. 

I will miss Brion, but I hope he lives on, in a way, through me and through the things I learned from him. If I could accomplish a portion of things he has, I would be happy.

— Keith Haring Journals