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In November 2013 I was on holiday in the US when I received an intriguing email: “I''ve just seen your smashing website... and I wondered if I could run an idea past you? yours, Heathcote Williams.”

Having lunch in the shadow of Hearst Castle, I googled the familiar-sounding name and discovered that he was the author of (among many other works) Autogeddon, which my friend Graham had pressed upon me, as my MA project Capital City had reminded him of it. I replied to Heathcote, telling him that I was on the West Coast of America, that we were heading for San Francisco and that I was getting back into reading Kerouac and the Beats. Before I knew it he was sending me poems about hanging out with William Burroughs and had got Sally and I an invite to a Michael McClure book launch at City Lights (sadly it was the day after our flight home).

From there we got e-chatting about Super Furry Animals, Goldie Lookin’ Chain, and my favourite topic, William Blake. It pretty much carried on like that for the next few years, with him regularly emailing me interesting titbits, ideas or links to poems he had written on the International Times website. I have gathered from other friends of his that he did the same for them. I picture him at the centre of a web of arty eccentrics, dashing off emails and posting pamphlets, books and postcards out to his gang of weirdos. It was always a joyful surprise to discover a jiffy envelope addressed in his distinct calligraphic hand in the mailbox and flattering to be thought worthy of these gifts and messages.

Sally and I only met the man three times and I will treasure those occasions. Twice we were entertained at his ramshackle house in Oxford. The first time we were beyond hungover after a hedonistic weekend in Manchester followed by a boozey Oxford dinner with my brother. Heathcote served us restorative fish pie on that occasion and the second time we ate fresh prawns and samphire out of a carrier bag. In person he was like his emails but even better, full of incredible and indiscreet stories that brought the anarchic sixties and seventies to life. The third and final time we saw him we took him to the Blake exhibition at the Ashmolean Museum.

When I moved into my flat I sent him my new address and he replied ‘Dear John, thanks for your change of address. I put it in my book. You are next to Alan Rickman. May it work some alchemical magic!’ Of course, Rickman went in the great celebrity cull of 2016 and Heathcote was the first person I thought of when I heard. Shortly before he had sent me a link to a poem inspired by Bowie’s death http://www.artsjournal.com/herman/2016/01/the-day-david-bowie-died-a-poet-wondered-why.html

Now that Heathcote himself has departed us it seems worth quoting part of that poem:

‘What are people doing fucking dying? Haven’t they got better things to do? No sooner than you’re on someone’s wavelength Then suddenly they’re whisked away from you…’

It was an immense privilege to meet and get to know Heathcote during the last few years of his life. He was and is an inspiring artist with a powerful moral vision and crucially a mischievous soul.

The poem that he wanted me to illustrate was The Red Dagger, a brilliant, long polemical poem which skewers the evils and hypocrisies of the City of London and the financial/political system and draws comparisons with the Peasants Revolt of 1381. (It’s also way more fun than I’ve made it sound). You can listen to the whole thing here, read by Alan Cox: http://www.artsjournal.com/herman/2013/12/the-red-dagger-by-heathcote-williams.html

We never did get anyone to publish our collaboration, so I’ve included the images I made for it above, as far as we got with it, which wasn’t very far. The project stalled because we couldn’t persuade anyone to publish it, which was a shame. Maybe one day I’ll finish it.

HEATHCOTE WILLIAMS - 1941-2017

#Heathcote Williams #The Red Dagger

Now that Heathcote himself has departed us it seems worth quoting part of that poem:

‘What are people doing fucking dying? Haven’t they got better things to do? No sooner than you’re on someone’s wavelength Then suddenly they’re whisked away from you…’

It was an immense privilege to meet and get to know Heathcote during the last few years of his life. He was and is an inspiring artist with a powerful moral vision and crucially a mischievous soul.

HEATHCOTE WILLIAMS - 1941-2017

#Heathcote Williams #The Red Dagger

#the red dagger

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