“Somehow the tincture of aesthetic bathes every big occasion in hypocrisy, as though a napalm salesman kept asking you to admire the color of the flames.”

In the mid-1970s, the design virtuoso brought the Voice's editorial look up to speed.

The personal becomes the classical.

“The question is, why are all these personal treasures in New York, at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, instead of with the sun god Ra?”

What if you love art AND baseball? In the Eighties, Voice critic Peter Schjeldahl had the answer—and what other paper would’ve published it?

Rafael de Soto, one of the best pulp practitioners, once said, “If a pretty girl says, ‘I want to go to bed with you, because I like you,’ that's fine art. If a pretty girl says, ‘I want to go to bed with you, but it's a hundred bucks,’ that's commercial art.”

For Hunter S. Thompson’s seminal piece of gonzo revelation, ‘The Kentucky Derby Is Decadent and Depraved,’ the illustrator’s byline read, “Sketched with eyebrow pencil and lipstick by Ralph Steadman.”

“The big lighting rigs surrounding the pit illuminated the smoke, which made you think you could feel the buildings within the cloud.”

The pitted red clay and worn inscriptions are reminiscent of the exhumed detritus of many an overreaching empire

“When the iron door was opened, sounds peculiar to jails and prisons poured into my ears — the screams, the metallic clanging, officers’ keys clinking. Some of the women noticed me and smiled warmly or threw up their fists in gestures of solidarity”