The World of Leonardo Morgado

Like many people, I came to know Ralph Steadman’s art work through the writing of Hunter Thompson. Steadman’s distorted visual interpetations of Thompson’s distorted, descriptive prose fused together so well that they became synaptically joined as artists and as people.

What you get from Steadman is the reality behind the shiny facade. The peeling away of skin layer by layer leaving only the blood and the sinewey mass. Steadman shows us what we are too frightened to admit to seeing.

Thompson chose to end his writing career by placing a shotgun to his head and pulling the trigger. The finally act of a madman? Perhaps, but the fact that Steadman carries on working ought to give us hope because the only way to remain sane in this world is to have faith in its lunatics.