He made his death a work of art, said Tony Visconti, and none of us knew how he had planned it. We mistook his departure for a comeback. Apart from the generosity and the artistic control, I am impressed by the vulnerability, which is striking for an artist that private, who rarely slipped autobiographical details into his work, or overtly at least. David Bowie in the blue hospital waiting room above is a still from The Hunger, 1983. A fuller review is here, from last September. And the vulnerability of Bowie in those Hunger scenes seems to anticipate the final two videos, for Blackstar and Lazarus.
Also at this blog: Bowie talks about The Man Who Fell to Earth in 1976, to Playboy magazine; different accounts of the mysterious unmade Derek Jarman and David Bowie film Neutron; and reviews of Radio On and Merry Christmas Mr Lawrence. The latter even offered another rare moment of personal revelation:
“I found in Celliers all too many areas of guilt and shortcomings that are part of me. I feel tremendous guilt because I grew so apart from my family. I hardly ever see my mother and I have a step-brother I don’t see anymore. It was my fault we grew apart and it is painful – but somehow there’s no going back.”