Blotter Art 

Mark McCloud 

The article is lengthy and complex, but here is the translation of the entire text:

With wit and a gift for storytelling, one wonders why he doesn’t write books and instead sees himself as a more visual character. So why no books? Or psychedelic films like Alejandro Jodorowsky or psychedelic music like Grace Slick? Why Blotter? He says he has only done what many do: get inspired and then search for a form of expression. For him, it’s a graphic product, art as a tactile carrier of the spirit. A host—a metaphor—the substance that makes the soul tangible.

He used to collect trips differently than today; he stored them in the freezer to eat them, not to frame them. He laughs, and I remind him of the story of his first trip, as it was written in Vice Magazine: “The surreal sense of reality on paper, the visual truth of LSD as Blotter is Mark’s theme. And why? Because he could see first and only later hear. The images came before the sounds for him. He could see the universe long before Isaac Hayes’ ‘Superfly’ revealed the voice of the cosmos to him in 1972: ‘I’ve seen the total unity of all things a hundred times before I heard it for the first time, and when I finally heard it, I thought: Ah, so that’s what it sounds like!’â€

Some can see it, some can hear it, and for others, the idea shines. Everyone has their preferred channel. We talked about this when I first visited Mark at his Institute of Illegal Images in San Francisco. And yet neither my wife nor I really got a word in. From afar, we saw him standing in front of the house; we had an appointment, but he didn’t have much time because he wanted to go to Golden Gate Park. Rocky Ericson from The 13th Floor Elevators was playing there. But he was interested. Basel! 75 years of LSD! That should work.

Mark owns the world’s largest Blotter collection. His collection in San Francisco now includes more than 40,000 pieces, and more are added every week. About 30 pieces are sent to him monthly by fans from all over the world. He lends his exhibits to museums worldwide year after year. When asked how he’s doing, he says he’s busy, and when asked what he’s doing, he laughs and says, “Just Blotter.†Most exhibitions are underground, but the particularly beautiful ones become true art. The walls of his house are plastered with them. They hang everywhere, and in between are rarities from psychedelic culture: paintings by Alex Grey, including one of the first he bought in 1987, and he’s as proud of it as he is of his pictures by the late Rick Griffin, whom he calls a friend and father of psychedelic art.

There’s utter chaos in this house. Suitcases are everywhere, large collections lie open on stacks of books. After a slalom-like balancing act to reach Mark’s living room, he first has to clear the sofa. He’s preparing a big exhibition, he apologizes. Books like Techgnosis lie around. He’s been on the road for 20 hours but still takes the time to distribute the Blotters with the curator in the display cases. The next day, he gave a lecture. What stuck with me was what he said about microdosing: “Even if you add up all your microdoses over many years, you’re still staring into the abyss. What I mean is: If you take microdoses to improve yourself, optimize your thinking, or become more successful, Acid will eventually teach you a lesson. You’ll realize you’ve used it far too narrowly. While you’ve improved your performance, you’ve missed the chance for true insight, and you’ve lost the opportunity to become a better person.â€

I decided to call him and invite him to Basel. There, in 2018, the celebrations for 75 years of LSD should take place. He suggested giving the secret Blotter art a platform to honor the origin of this art, LSD. The curators agreed.

After dinner, we sat with some red wine on the terrace. The sun was low over the rooftops of Basel, and I thought now was the time to get a bit more philosophical. “LSD is a tool for insight,†I said to him. “Mhm.†“Don’t you think it’s a bit wasted to dedicate yourself to it?†“Hm?†“Well, shouldn’t you spend your time showing people what you’ve realized instead of constantly telling how it came about?†“No!†I said nothing more. We both hung in the melody of the cosmos.

He began to tell: “It must have been about my hundredth trip on December 9, 1971. I was twelve hours dead, but the LSD brought me back. I sat on the seventh floor by the window, but in my film, I was somewhere else; I was underground, buried. Twelve hours I was dead, and then I was back in reality. My body was the purest chaos while my soul made its journey. I died, but not everything—the ambulance, the doctor, that continued in a different time loop. As a traveler, you have to adapt your mind and give up your view of reality. You have to recognize that reality is not reality. I think because it was an accident, I got the chance to return to my old life. Maybe that’s hard to understand, but back to the old life meant a whole circle, many light-years, a long time.â€

This is the full translation of the article. Let me know if you need further clarification!