PHILIP POCOCK documentary datatectures || Index of Photographs | The Obvious Illusion New York City 1980 | Gregory Battcock Text

GREGORY BATTCOCK
The Desolate Illusion
Introduction to
Philip Pocock
The Obvious Illusion
New York 1980

The Obvious Illusion slides
The Cooper Union NY show
Art Gallery of Ontario show

Gregory Battcock Soho News cover NY 1980
Gregory Battock was brutally murdered Christmas Eve 1980 in Puerto Rico.

Gregory Battcock Soho News cover NY 1980
Gregory Battcock †1980.

Gregory Battcock Soho News NY 1980Soho News Dec. 1980 Cover Story.

Gregory Battcock w. Andy Warhol Soho News NY 1980
G.Battcock (left) w. Iranian diplomat and A. Warhol (right).

Gregory Battcock w. Salvador Dali Soho News NY 1980
Salvador Dali (left), G. Battcock (right).

Gregory Battcock Soho News NY 1980
Friend (left), G. Battcock (right).

Gregory Battcock on Lermontov liner Soho News NY 1980
G.Battcock began The Desolate Illusion on board an oceanliner. Here writing aboard the Lermontov liner.

Gregory Battcock Soho News NY 1980

Battcock mixing mayonaise at an avant-garde opening 1970.

Gregory Battcock portrait by Alice Neel Soho News NY 1980
Battcock (left) D. Bourdon (right) painting by Alice Neel.

Gregory Battcock portrait Soho News NY 1980
Gregory Battcock.

Gregory Battcock painting Soho News NY 1980
Battcock and his early work.

Gregory Battcock w. mother Soho News NY 1980
Battcock and mother (left) at Stork Club.

Gregory Battcock w. Hilton Kramer Soho News NY 1980
Hilton Kramer, D. Bourdon, R. Stefanotti, G. Battcock (left to right).

Gregory Battcock on Michelangelo liner 1976
Gregory Battcock on Michelangelo liner 1976
Coincidentally, my father snapped Gregory on board the last voyage of the Michelangelo just before she departed New York in 1975. Dad noted the gent in the fedora 'The Godfather' on the back of the print he mailed me. He did not know Gregory at all. Neither did I until 3 years later. Strangely, dad was down just to see me off on the SAME liner Battcock had boarded. It was the liner's LAST VOYAGE. I was on my way to a scholarship at a grande école in the south of France. Presient?

Tiepolo Via crucis
GB Tiepolo Via crucis 1747.

Des murs dans la ville book cover Paris 1980
Gregory Battcock portraitt by Philip Pocock 1980
Perhaps one of the last shots taken of Gregory Battcock. We toured the Lower East side in preparation for his introductory text and I snapped him in front of the Shalamuth Firestone mural on Ave. B 1980.

 

 

 

 

The Desolate Illusion

by Gregory Battcock 1980 (His last text prior to his unsolved murder in Puerto Rico December 1980.)
Introduction to Philip Pocock The Obvious Illusion: Murals from the Lower East Side, New York, 1980.

The following text is Gregory Battock's final draft for his Introduction to a monograph of Philip Pocock's photographs The Obvious Illusion: Murals from the Lower East Side published by George Braziller, New York, 1980. Sadly, it is also the final text written by Battcock who was brutally murdered on a Puerto Rico condominium balcony only weeks after contributing this text. He never saw the book or the exhibition at the Cooper Union New York which it accompanied.

 

The photography of art works is, in some ways, one of the most subservient of all photographic genres. Art photography is an area in which the creative license and instinct of the photographer is sublimated in favor of obtaining an accurate, complete and informative view of the art object being photographed. Yet, under certain circumstances, the genre od art photography can become one of the most imaginative and flexible within the photographic medium. The photographs contained in this book, which record the street art of an explosive yet desolate Latin ghetto, illustrate the degree of imagination, in terms of choice and decision making, that can be brought to the genre.

For these art photographs are not simply pictures of wall murals in the usual sense. In photographing the street art of the ghetto, Philip Pocock has realized that it is not particularly important that his photographs illustrate closely, accurately and in detail their subjects the casual street murals of the Lower East Side nor that these photographs document for social and cultural purposes transitional works of brief duration. In fact, of course, the photographs do both of these jobs, and do so well. However, the photographs, their importance and their meaning, derive more from the determination of the photographer to reveal not only the murals themselves, in all their flamboyance and dilapidated condition, but also their context, which is essential to an understanding of them.

For, as is the case with much of the art of our time, the context and the art object are combined to create the aesthetic energy that can produce meaning. It is, in this case, the imagination brought to his subjects by the photographer that provides the viewer a rich and stimulating opportunity to experience the complexity, the sadness and the banality of the subject matter. The imagination extends beyond the limitations of actual photography for, in these photographs the very choice of murals helps to create a coherent and concentrated viewpoint, one that the typical visitor to the area would, in all probability, not recognize. One of the most perplexing characteristics of the genre of art photography lies in the following contradiction. Is not the apparent objectivity inherent to the photographic print contradicted by the highly subjective, flexible and variable -- indeed artful -- decision-making processes required to create the photograph? It is this particularly photographic dilemma, in terms of artistic process, that is so perspicuously demonstrated in these photographs of the casual murals of a brutal American ghetto.

As a rule, photographs of art works are supposed to accurately measure the work of art. They are supposed to effectively convey the proper light, color, texture and perhaps scale of the art work. In general art photographs are best and most interesting when they serve the cause of their subject, the object of art. Thus such photographs are not supposed to be art works themselves. They are not supposed to elaborate upon the work not should they reveal, in any but the most general way, the personality of the photographer. Photographs of art works should not, themselves, be involved with social or political issues; nor should they editorialize in any way. Lastly, and most importantly, they should not interpret the artists intentions, for to do so might seem to reflect negatively, upon the quality of the art objects such photographs are supposed to serve; as it may be argued that the art object has failed to communicate entirely upon its own terms. In general it would appear that good photographs of art works are those in which the subjective elements of the photographers as have been reduced to the greatest extent possible. However as any art photographer knows, art photograph itself is rarely without art; i.e. the photograph process involves manipulation, exaggeration and a measure of adjustment through technique or otherwise, in order to create a satisfactory illustration of an art work. All art works do not necessarily photograph well.

For example, the photographer of an "all black" painting by the Minimalist painter Ad Reinhardt will encounter particular difficulties. These paintings, predominately black, contain surface gradations that are so subtle they are barely visible to the naked eye for at first glance they seem to be merely a black surface. Therefore, under the best of circumstances, a photograph will probably fail to "pick up" the nuances, the minute variations of black the artist has painted. The photograph will show the essential blackness of the surface but not the subtle degree of shading that give the black paintings of Reinhardt their significance.

Therefore the photographer must take steps to manipulate his process in order to simulate the visual subtleties of the painting and reproduce an accurate illusion. In so doing he may find it desirable to abandon a truly objective approach. Through the manipulation of his tools, such as the mechanism, film, light, framing, perhaps even "touching up" the print the photographer implants a personal viewpoint upon the art work. In this instance a series of subjective technical and aesthetic decisions may be required in order to obtain an objective photo graphic print of the work of art. Just as the complex and delicate variations in the-surface of the black paintings require a particular approach for the photographer, so do the wall murals scattered throughout the Lower East Side urban landscape demand particular consideration.

This particular consideration has to take note of such factors as the highly temporary nature of the murals, painted with ordinary paints upon cracked and even crumbling surfaces; the addition of graffiti and other anonymous additions; the problem of accessibility rises, as a work may become blocked by parked vehicles or building alterations; lastly, and most importantly, the immediate environment which provides these murals with their context is in a state of constant change. As Philip Pocock explains, his approach: "... was not to record works of art themselves, as one might in a museum, but to comment, criticize and expand upon them."

The subject matter of the photographs in this book is more complex than it may at first appear. These are not merely photographs of wall murals, for these are a special type of mural, differing markedly from public murals in the usual Western sense. While a relatively few of those photographed -- about one third of the group -- were presented to some of the community in advance, in sketch form, most were done directly on the walls without the usual preliminary steps.

Furthermore, except for the few sponsored by local agencies, most of the paintings were offered spontaneously by the painters and, sometimes, their friends. A few of the works were changed later, either by the original artist, or by other persons. Due to such factors these ubiquitous works require a somewhat unique photographic approach. Though not sophisticated murals, naiveté alone does not give them special importance. Naive art is a common phenomenon and a frequent subject for study in the history of Western art. Painting on the walls of caves, the mosaic art of Roman cultures, medieval frescos, Romanesque carvings and the primitive cartoons associated with anonymous decorative art are but a few examples. All of these, to a greater or lesser extent, are part of the history of such art.

Nor are the lower East Side paintings unique in terms of their temporary nature, for artists of past and present have frequently created works destined for a short-lived existence including, for example, the painted designs that decorated the facades of some Venetian palaces of the Seicento as well as wall works by contemporary conceptual and Minimalist artists created for the life of the installation. However when the iconographic and aesthetic factors described above are combined with the extraordinary situation of savage deterioration and utter desperation of their urban location -- not the worst neighborhood to be found in New York or other American cities -- then, considering all these factors together, we begin to understand the murals on their own highly unusual terms. Recognition of the interaction of these several factors will serve to reveal the aesthetic substance of the murals and the personal photographic approach developed by the photographer, who has explained: "Besides the images on the walls, I photographed other elements, such as architectural elements or human elements or elements of texture. I wanted to create a tension, and convey the drama." Thus given the special nature of his subjects -- naive orientation, nearly spontaneous creation, absence of a visual tradition, rapid deterioration and extraordinary location - the photographs reveal that Pocock was correct in allowing numerous details of the environment to combine with the murals. In the final analysis the location itself may prove to have been the single most important characteristic serving to define the murals. The place for which these murals were made, the Spanish ghetto, is a place of intense almost exhilarating degradation. It may prove to be the catalyst and the energy, blending and bringing together diverse elements to produce works of unusual significance. It's special power is appreciated by Pocock, who says, "I love the Ghetto. The reason I choose this area is for its unity of time and place."

The murals that appear in these photographs represent a mixture of styles and levels of amateur accomplishment, as chosen by the photographer. Compositions consisting entirely of graffiti type scribbles have been excluded. Of the works illustrated, about one quarter of them were supported by various community programs including; Cityarts Workshop, C.E.T.A Workers, and local block associations, all programs designed to promote community spirit and encourage talent. The sponsoring groups did not consciously censor the artist's ideas or proposals however at least some of the artists were aware that, should they, offer works that might antagonize elements within the community, they risked having their works altered or defaced by those so offended. The vague assumption that such art works beautify or somehow improve the desperate facts of the slum is, of course, facetious. It is almost preposterous to suggest that, through such simple measures, the result of many years of constant, deliberate and systematic official neglect could be reversed. Forty years of public economic and social policy destined to erode the essential urban qualities of industry, density, service and transportation - polity equivalent to political and social enslavement of the poor and cultural alienation of the middle classes -- has lead ultimately to the inevitable and predetermined result: the establishment under peacetime conditions of the most deplorable state of urban desolation known to Western civilization -- all the more deplorable because of its deliberate and systematic implementation through misguided social planning. This remarkable and atrocious condition provides the context and prepares the soil for the emergence of these murals, and therein lies their greatness as it is recorded and explained.

As a result through Pocock's subjective camera technique. The murals may be interpreted by the viewer as the final gasps of a fleeing population and a dying civilization. The photographer himself lives in the ghetto he has so patiently photographed. "To me," he explains, "it is a feeling of living on the edge of civilization. I think of it as a view into the future." These murals represent attempts to come to terms with the tragic , hopeless situation of the desolated old city through a visual language. It is a crude language lacking in aesthetic subtlety and, in a sense, it crowns a national social policy so destructive, powerful and total as to have been almost invisible. Its march, to complete a decivilization process began in the utopian proposals of the parkway-automotive-escapist delirium of the 1930's, in which the vital values of an intense and civilized urban experience were exchanged for vacant, anti-social and obsessively protective plans, policies and promises. These took the form a of the suburban cityscape with its peculiar regressive patterns of distribution, space , transportation and familial enclosure, all of which proved enormously popular to a transitional and insecure culture. Racism, intolerance, fear and suspicion were to be the new motivating values and they found a happy welcome in the new suburban scheme that was ultimately to drain the energy, the vitality and the hope of the central cities. In time, perhaps, this period of compulsive, prosperous decline into the age of petroleum will ultimately be viewed as outdistancing in its cruelty and cynicism even pre-meditated devastations of war.

Other than a few minor and safe exceptions -- Dominican and Puerto Rican flags, for example -- the almost total absence of "universal" political images from the walls of the ghetto is of particular note. The clenched fist, the paving-block missile, the helmeted police caricature -- even the hammer and sickle -- are symbols that, quite naturally, typify the revolutionary slogans of the walls of Paris in 1968 right up to Rome and Milan today as well as contemporary Latin American cities in political upheaval. Few of these traditional images of revolt and political awareness have found their way into these photographs for they are not to be found to any serious extent on the walls of the Lower East Side. The murals illustrated in this book are basically conservative statements. Proper, almost prudish, they are certain to be of interest to social historians. One might suppose, given an environment of intense poverty and utter deterioration, any spontaneous or quickly executed 10 and relatively temporary murals would be of a radical orientation, in terms of message, or at least somehow socially provocative. In startling contrast to such expectations -- as these photographs document and a daytime stroll through the area will verify -- the numerous wall paintings support, or would seem to aspire to, sound, almost depressingly solid middle class values such as those represented by respect for family, god and country. Even politically, although one would certainly expect radical political content, we find a conventionality that is surprising if not banal. The political indifference may be explained by the relatively unsophisticated political awareness that seems to afflict Americans of all social planes; or it may be due to the familiar political contradiction which, at times, causes those who have most to gain by radical political revolution to deny radical political action and similarly advanced social values. They will instead, support conservative and middle class ideas, no doubt believing that what may gained through them to be preferable. For it need hardly be pointed out that a few Puerto Rican flags do not represent authentically political viewpoints, even these images are balanced by patriotic motifs, including the Statue of Liberty.

While one hardly expects to stumble upon the theories of Marx, Marcuse or Mandel splashed upon these crumbling walls, one might, even though it is a Puerto Rican / Dominican ghetto, come to wonder about the missing Fidel Castro and Che Guevera. Cuban revolutionaries are, in all probability, not to be found here because such figures are not synonymous with middle-class American values or supported by popular media. For, in keeping with such values -- the very social and economic preferences that lead to the systematic evolution of the urban desolation in the first place -- the Cuban heroes are disliked because they stand for repudiation of the consumerist capital values that, for the urban poor, remain so desirable and so elusive. Furthermore one is, unfortunately, reminded of the traditional and deeply rooted racial mistrust that exists between, on one hand, Dominicans and Puerto Ricans and, on the other, Cubans. The Cuban ethic is viewed as excessively aggressive, ruthless and therefore threatening, to other Latin peoples and the subsequent lack of trust is frequently reduced to ethnic hostility. While there is no clear indication of racial antagonism evident in the murals themselves -- no ethnic slurs, no illustrations of ethnic failings -- the very choice of subjects might, in this case, reflect underlying racial friction and, at least partially explain the strange lack of enthusiasm for Cuban revolutionary ideals and anti-capitalist political subjects. The missing references to Nicaragua, Guatemala, Chile, Argentina and so on are more difficult to explain Perhaps they can be written off as simply lack of communication or yet another misunderstanding.

On the other hand many of the artists responsible for the wall murals seem to have recognized, in numerous instances, a relationship between urban landscape and painted illusion. This is not to suggest that the artists have been able to control in any way, the ambience, or surrounding landscape. Rather they reveal an awareness of its reality, its special identification and strengths and weaknesses. In such instances factual images of the urban landscape have been visually incorporated within the painted murals, thus inviting the facts of the landscape into the illusory world of the painted mural. In one spectacular example, cars parked in front of a flashy Caribbean view are brought into the Caribbean locale. In this case we have an interesting situation in that the photographer has recognized the added interest the parked cars bring to the veduta. Yet the artist surely must have been aware of the fact of his mural alongside a parking lot, and there are indications that the artist allowed this fact to influence his choice of images and their placement.

In another example a potted tree in front of a green painted landscape provides a sensitive and attractively energetic composition. Snow covered cement tables in a shabby vest-pocket park "fit in" to a sunny Caribbean view painted on the wall, the dichotomy of seasons notwithstanding. The painted view seems to have been scaled to correspond to the park tables and benches. In another picture a bundled up little girl passes before a huge Caribbean dancer. Positive interaction between painted wall and urban detail serve to remind the viewer that, in fact, this particular urban community, a Spanish ghetto on the Lower East Side, in spite of appearance, is not by any means completely "lost". For here and there stability sticks out amongst the burned buildings, rubble strewn streets and dilapidated storefronts. These relationships between painted illusions and urban facts may be described as positive interactions because they indicate a deliberate, a planned effort on the part of the artist to design the composition to take best advantage of the reality of the location.

There is another type of interaction between painted illusion and urban fact that may be described as "negative". In such instances the reality of the location may add information that was not considered by the original artist. Or, in another case, the reality of the decaying location may take away information that the artist had included in the mural, such as a graffiti smeared wall or a fire or vandalism or destruction. In some ways these latter, or "negative" interactions are more abstract. At any rate they require more thought and are less easy to appreciate or verify. They may involve, primarily, accidental correlations discovered by photographer Pocock, or they may involve objects chosen not by artist or photographer but merely accidental facts of existence. For example, a mural illustrating Puerto Rican and Dominican flags is photographed from a sufficient distance in order to include the foreground lot, the ubiquitous discarded mattress, the ubiquitous sleeping addict. By including significant -- though perhaps accidental or incidental -- foreground material into the photograph, the photographer expands upon the meaning of the wall mural. By involving the reality of the location with the illusion on the wall, Pocock provides the means for stimulating the energy of the overall scheme, in both the "negative" and "positive" types of interactions described above. Yet another example of the negative type of interaction, between mural and reality, is the picture of the Statue of Liberty before a sunset background, painted on a wall below some broken-out tenement windows. The mural, seen in conjunction with the broken-out windows above takes on a particularly melancholy quality, as the brooding reality of the tenement window glares down upon the fragile, sentimental patriotic painting. Interactions such as these abound and while some were not necessarily planned or even noticed by the painters, their presence serves to reveal the immediate social and environmental context and thereby enrich the art works themselves. A painting of a faded palm tree envelopes a row of locks on a battered door, producing a social comment of considerable strength. The decision to include or discard, these urgent referential details has been made by the photographer. Thus, through the genre of art photography, is revealed the urgent role of the photographer in expanding upon the meaning of the mural either in support of the artist or, perhaps, in spite of the artist. The painters of the murals are politically naive. They are not professional and as a rule they do not possess serious technical expertise in terms of painting, draughtsmanship of principles of composition, except on a relatively elementary level. As works viewed individually they may appear unimportant or excessively casual. Pocock explains that, taken individually, some of the murals photographed: "... do not hold up as well as they do in a group. In this case the whole is greater than the sum of the parts." Nevertheless these artists have produced many startling views, particularly in conjunction with their settings.

The artists have not attempted to improve the reality of the situation. On the contrary they have produced works that seem to increase the sense of desolation, the embarrassment of the degree of human degradation of the neighborhood. Taken cut of context it would be difficult to find any real merit in these works. Their strength lies primarily in their location and their relationship to it. Through a policy of neglect and the denial of resources the world's richest capitalist society has turned away from the people and the place of the ghetto. Yet a constructive human spirit remains and it's manifestation is found in the wall paintings of the Lower East Side photographed by Pocock. It is only when seen first hand or in expansive photographs -- photographs that reveal the total ambience and provide referential information -- that their true identification can be recognized: " I hope I can convey not just the murals but the experience of looking at them in this area," Pocock explained. "I've been back to rephotograph them recently. Most of them are no longer there."

In some European cities -- such as Rome, Paris or Venice -- the walls of buildings play an important role in urban information distribution. Posters are distributed regularly, for noncommercial purposes, informing the people of cultural events, political rallies, birth and death announcements and civic regulations. Private and social organizations, sometimes illegally, make heavy use of the walls for their own propaganda purposes. Political activists go one step further and paint messages and slogans on the walls and they do so extensively and on a regular basis. The tradition of urban popular communication via the wall medium does not exist in American cities for several reasons primarily because the wall medium is limited to a pedestrian-oriented urban system. One of the most pedestrian-oriented of all cities, Venice, has developed one of the most active, disciplined systems for wall communication on a major scale. Indeed the history of Venetian painting can be interpreted as a type or popular visual communication system created for a public market. For it is , in this sense that the less cerebral and more pictorially oriented Venetian style differs from the styles of Florence and the High Renaissance.

Thus it is not entirely surprising that one critic has linked several pictures by the 18th Century Venetian painter (1727 - 1802) Gian Domenico Tiepolo --son of the important fresco painter Giovanni Battista Tiepolo to some of the Pocock photographs contained in this book. The Tiepolo panels chosen for this imaginative comparison are part of the series "Via crucis" (Stations of the Cross - 1747) in the church of Saint Polo in Venice. It was suggested, for example, that Tiepolo's panel of the first station, "Gesu e condannato a morte" (Jesus is condemned to death) is, in a general and, of course, casual way, similar to the mural of a dancer with a red flag. The critic notes the dominant architectural structure of the Tiepolo -- it seems to anchor the dramatic occasion -- and points to a massive yellow rectangular element in the Pocock photo that is not dissimilar, in compositional terms. Furthermore Tiepolo has painted a diagonal to the left, formed by the cross of Christ, which in the Pocock composition, is reversed. A red flag, of proportionately equal size is to be seen in almost the same place in each work. Furthermore, a gesture of raised arms, albeit located differently, dominates each work. Lastly, it is noted that, in terms of color, yellows, reds and whites dominate both works.

In another instance the Tiepolo panel of the eleventh station "Gesu viene inchiodato sulla Croce" (Jesus is nailed to the cross) is linked to the Pocock photograph of Dominican and Puerto Rican flags above an addict sleeping on a discarded mattress. Again the correlations are casual. For example it is observed that the background figure or figures in each work seem separated from the foreground images. The foreground of the Tiepolo contains the figure of the dead, reclining Christ. The foreground of the Pocock photograph shows the addict, his arm in a plaster cast one shoe missing sleeping or lying dead perhaps upon a torn mattress. The addict is thus linked pictorially and socially to the abused figure of Christ. (In this case there is a marked qualification, as the foreground figure in the Pocock is not an actual part of the mural; though it is a part of the Pocock photograph, of course. In both instances background figures appear to ignore the reclining foreground figure. (see notes below.)

The Tiepolo second station ''Gesu riceve la Croce" (Jesus takes up His cross) offers correlation with a Pocock composition of a storefront doorway. Tiepolo's great Roman archway framing a Venetian lamp and the figure of Christ, and His tormentors is reminiscent of the photograph depicting the decaying doorway framing a standing youth for in the Tiepolo panel an image of Tiberius stands above and to the side of Christ while a figure of King Kong is painted above and to the side of the youth posing in the Pocock. Again primary colors stand out against white forms, light radiates from several sources and heightened, theatrical contrasts abound. A sweeping angular form created by the Tiepolo cross is reflected, in a way, by the white post separating the tenement storefront doorways. Again, in this instance , the Pocock work is interpreted not merely in terms of painted images but by the form of the storefront itself and the figure of the youth posing therein.

The correlations introduced above are not, of course, intended to be formal or in any way decisive critical analyses, or even serious aesthetic comparisons. Rather they show, to a certain extent, that there are casual but interesting compositional, allegorical, emotional and populist factors that enliven the Pocock interpretations of his subjects, factors that are not without precedent in the history of Western visual arts. We do not imply that there are any direct references or "influences" linking the art of Tiepolo, on one hand, and the wall painters of the Lower East Side, on the other. However the question of a type of "spiritual" affinity is subject for thought.

It has been pointed out that the exterior murals illustrated in this book are, generally, without sophisticated political intent while, at the same time, they eschew truly provocative subjects or anti-social viewpoints. Partially this is due to the absence of any tradition of urban wall communication in our culture. Nevertheless good murals of authentically provocative nature are, to be sure, found in public places in New York City, though they are not "open" in the sense that the Lower East Side pictures are out in the open. Yet it should be pointed out that a number of the works illustrated in this book are surprisingly sophisticated in humorous or satiric terms, and they reveal a lively social sensibility on the part of the artists. Vacationing Americans in Caribbean locations are incongruous and funny. A middle-class suburban couple -- the artist's parents perhaps? -- enjoying a cocktail pinpoints an up-to-date awareness of the social and behavioural extremes between, say, Dobbs Ferry or Bayshore and the Lower East Side. Nevertheless these murals are intimately linked to their time and place, perhaps more so than similar art from almost any other period or culture.

Gregory Battcock
Venice, 1980


Notes:
1. This and all other quotations are from a recorded discussion between the photographer and the author in New York City on August 17, 1980.
2. From an unpublished paper by Sr. Therese Benedict McGuire. 1980.


Gregory Battcock murdered, story by D. Weinberg, Soho News NY 1980.
Gergory Battcock's last moments as accounted by D. Weinberg in the Soho News Dec. 1980.

GREGORY BATTCOCK Desolate Illusion Introduction to PHILIP POCOCK The Obvious Illusion: Murals from the Lower East Side George Braziller publisher, New York, 1980