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Hi Paddy,

F.Y.I…

Paul & I have had these two notebooks that we believe to be Valerie Solanas’ diaries. They were recently featured in an exhibition, Eyeworld at Triple Candie.

Here’s the info:
Found in a box of discarded art books in SoHo in the mid-nineties, the
secret diaries of Valerie Solanas encapsulate a time when the art
world was smaller and there were six degrees of separation between
madness and Andy Warhol’s Factory. Although never authenticated, these
two handwritten diaries both fascinate and repulse everyone that views
them.

Solanas’ obsession with sex and fame, as well as her frustration with
being poor, abused and not being recognized for her beliefs leap from
the pages of the taped, frayed, old spiral-notebooks. Illustrated with
fold out drawings of uteruses, coffee stains, stuck-together pages and
notes on paper bags that are glued inside, these two diaries reveal
the disturbed world of someone trying to be heard. With rambling,
ranting chants, such as “None of these people know what they want,”
“Vulvas are the essence of life” and “Men are vomit, they make me
puke,” the viewer is brought into a mind that saw the world through a
unique, distorted lens.

Infamous for shooting Warhol (his telephone number is written on the
cover of one of the notebooks) and writing the S.C.U.M. Manifesto,
Solanas was later embraced by feminists but will always remain a
mystery.

Renee Riccardo and Paul Laster

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