In 1981, the world of art in New York witnessed the vertiginous ascent of its most recent myth: Jean-Michel Basquiat, a black unknown youth, ex-graffiti artist, and only 19 years of age. Famous from night to day for his paintings, his exhibitions drew the attention of critics and collectors. The most important museums in the city, unyielding, contend over his work. The press avidly researches the smallest details of a biography as short and as little conventional for an artist. In 1988, however, at the age of only 27 years, Basquiat dies, and he is. described by The New York Times newspaper as the "the exponent closest to James Dean in the world of art". In spite of all his success, the artist never freed himself from the anguish of solitude, of self destruction, and from the anguish of feeling he was not accepted for what he really was.