On 10 August 1981, I visited Jack Smith at his apartment, # 33, 21 First Avenue, New York, hoping that he would screen Flaming Creatures for me. I spent the whole day eagerly listening to his nearly continuous monologue and taking notes on it.  He told me that his father was a hillbilly and his mother a Hungarian peasant, who was actually Turkish though she didn’t know it. He saw him self as “an exception to this […]