The End of an Absolute Person

"We can't all be stars because someone has to sit on the curb and clap as I go by"
- Sebastian Horsely

As is stated in not as many words, a common thread among posts on this blog are how the article's subjects impact the notion of individuality. Particularly in this day and age, and particularly among progressively younger generations, individualistic entitlement abounds. Yet, the question must be begged whether this idea of being a personalized island truly exists, or if it is merely an idea, and an often destructive one at that.

Moreover, the question must also be begged, is true individualism self-destructive? For one to truly march to the beat of their own drum, must this also assume that they will eventually march themselves to their own end, or at least, to their own obsolescence. For lack of better phrasing, self-preservation does tend to be more of a concern for the mainstream.

I pose these questions only because last week saw the passing of someone who was as close to iconoclasm as they come, British artist, writer, and self-proclaimed dandy Sebastian Horsely, 47. To be perfectly honest, I scarcely knew of Mr. Horsely, before I found myself in my kitchen last Friday morning listening to Q on CBC radio and hearing host Jian Ghomeshi announce his death (suspected drug overdose) and then replay an interview with him from spring 2008. I recall the incident from 2000 when he had himself crucified in the Philippines, but beyond that I knew very little.

In fact, few in North America could probably say they knew much about him, and it most likely did not help that he was banned from entering the United States in 2008, to promote his memoir (Dandy in the UnderWorld), on charges of moral turpitude. Let alone the fact that many prominent modern artists tend to fall outside the realm of (to coin a new phrase) "Household Nameism," Mr. Horsely's unapologetic tastes and lifestyle tended ensure that as far as more popular common culture was concerned, and particularly in this side of the world, his name was not frequently used.


Nevertheless, here was a person that lived a life as true to their own being as can be. In the end, his own choices may have out done him, but perhaps this is an essential component of living a truly iconoclastic and inidividualized life. Your own end, in the end, is a consequence of your own choice.

For the sake of further defining your own life in relation to those around you, and in celebrating the life of a nearly true individual, pick up his memoir and indulge in his "depraved and morally corrupt" wisdoms.