Thomas Gizolme

Wellcome to the Howl

For any request 


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The Howl © 2018
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I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked,
dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix,
angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night, who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness
of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz,
who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated,
who passed through universities with radiant cool eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war,
who were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull,
who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning their money in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror through the wall,
who got busted in their pubic beards returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York,
who ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their torsos night after night...

Allen Ginsberg

White Isles of the South Sea

The Howl © 2018
  Artist Book 8 copies signed and numbered

Printed on Awagami Kozo
Photography by Aline Diépois & Thomas Gizolme

Book design by Thomas Gizolme

On the water's surface, a thin band of sand lingers on a belt of iridescent foam. Nothing is more gracious than these white islands barely emerging above the waves. Under the blazing sun, time comes to a halt.
But the paradise is falling apart...

Mark Read a book or go to the beach