James Dean in Marfa Texas, June 17th, 1955.

I will most likely be posting more photos from the hanging of my mural. I’ve been in Fairmount for the last 3 weeks. Keep your eyes looking out. 

Finally, after a month to complete it, here is my James Dean mural, that is now hanging up on the wall of the old drugstore, now a great big antique store, in downtown Fairmount (Main and Washington).

It is the greatest honour to have my artwork hanging up in such an important spot in such a special little town. Its hard to believe hundreds of thousands of people will be seeing this. Im so proud.

cinemove:

East of Eden (1955) dir. Elia Kazan

…it’s awful not to be loved. It’s the worst thing in the world. Don’t ask me how I know that. I just know it. It makes you mean and violent and cruel. And that’s the way Cal has always felt, all his life. I know you didn’t mean it to be that way, but it’s true. You never gave him your love. You never asked him for his. You never asked him for one thing.

“James Dean made just three pictures, but even if he had made only one he would still be the greatest male star of the ’50s. The pictures are East of Eden, Rebel Without a Cause, Giant. Just the titles evoke epic visions, and all three films live up to their titles, constituting a three part heroic poem on atomic age youth, its beauties and its obsessions… James Dean was the perfect embodiment of an eternal struggle. It might be innocence struggling with experience, youth with age, or man with his image. But in every aspect his struggle was a mirror to a generation of rebels without a cause. His anguish was exquisitely genuine on and off the screen; his moments of joy were rare and precious. He is not our hero because he was perfect, but because he perfectly represented the damaged but beautiful soul of our time.” — Andy Warhol (via jamesdeandaily)

Dean seemed to thrive on dangerous stunts, and he used his motorcycle as his instrument more than once. I always refused to get on the back of it when he drove. “Why,” he would ask, “Yuh scared?”
"Yes, Jim, I’m scared," I once answered. "You take too many chances."
We were in front of my place, and he gunned the motor and took off. I would have stopped him and gotten my camera for some shots, but he was already zooming towards Park Avenue. I went inside. About fifteen minutes later my doorbell rang. I hadn’t heard any loud crashes, but was still relieved to see Jimmy when I opened the door.
"That was a short trip," I said and smiled. "Glad to see you back alive." He headed for the couch and settled in for an argument. He talked about the exhileration of taking chances and how great that felt. I am by nature more cautious, do our discussion was lively. We finally wound around to bullfighting and Hemingway’s Death in the Afternoon.
His eyes lit up and he leaned forward as he insisted that “Old Hemingway squeezed the juice out of life.”
I agreed.
"I’m not going to live past 30," he said, and smiled, looking intently at me.

Jimmy could be vulgar in a little boy kind of way. He had this tire iron in his hand and came over to where I was sitting on the car and said to me, “Here, hold this,” and handed me the iron. So I said, “Okay,” and took it. Then he looked at me and said, “Have you ever felt anything so hard?” And everybody just cracked up. I wanted to die! I don’t remember what I said - “Wouldn’t you like to know” or something like that and threw it back at him. Jimmy could be so rotten, but then so cute, that I just couldn’t stay mad at him. - Beverly Long

James Dean in Rebel Without a Cause.