Jim Lewis is an novelist, essayist and journalist. He lives in Austin, Texas.
Well, of course you know who he is. Neglect? You know the name, anyway, or at least you’ve come across it. He’s one of those British painters, the one who isn’t Bacon or Freud or Hockney or Hodgkin or Kitaj.
Pictures, books of pictures, collections of pictures, hard drives and smart phones full of pictures: these are inescapable. There is no more capacious storehouse of memories, including memory itself.