From his decades of experience, and thanks to a colorfast memory, John has stories in endless supply. Stories about a childhood surgery that could have cost him an eye, but instead led to his first whiff of fame. Stories of ditching Wall Street to pursue art. Stories featuring the creative deities he has counted as lovers, friends and collaborators, figures like Rauschenberg, Warhol and Burroughs.
Sitting comfortably upright in his chair, he recalls the many highs and lows of his past with fond acceptance, a product of his longtime devotion to Tibetan Buddhism and its philosophy of acquiescence: Go with the natural order of things.Welcome the good as it arrives, let it as it leaves. Even into his eighties, Giorno exudes a sort of preternatural calm, particularly when considering that which others might find tragic, from the death of a dear friend, to the metamorphosis of his artform into something beyond recognition.