ARTS & CULTURE

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TALKING TO ANITA THOMPSON ABOUT HUNTER

RACHEL COOKE, GUARDIAN - In a way, of course, this is precisely what has
happened to Anita Thompson. Although Hunter is gone, [Anita] is still
surrounded by him, weighed down not only by his papers, which entirely
fill the basement, and by his fans, who still turn up from time to time,
but also by his stuff, which covers every surface, and which she will
never be able to throw away. . . The experience is like being in some
crazy, hippie version of Sale of the Century. In the living room, I see:
a cactus, a stuffed alligator, a small cannon, an exercise bike, a ram's
head, a stuffed crow, the Encyclopedia Britannica, an owl, a human skull
and a blue candle in the shape of a woman with its wicks as nipples. In
the kitchen, Hunter's handwritten notes - 'Let's get stoned and have
orgasms and laugh a lot' - are stuck to every wall. So, too, are
photographs of him. In one, he is wearing lipstick and a pink wig. It is
captioned: 'Hunter's aunt visits, September 2004.' On a kitchen counter
is a lamp. On its shade hang some 30 pairs of Hunter's spectacles, their
glass still smeared with his fingerprints. . . 'I know,' she smiles,
when she emerges and finds me gazing at these. 'I have an obligation to
let go. My family says that. My mother says, "You don't want to live in
a shrine." But it isn't a shrine. I did let go. I had to. I just don't.
. . can't change things, that's all.'

http://books.guardian.co.uk/departments/politicsphilosophyandsociety/
story/0,6000,1598398,00.html


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