14" x 21-1/2" 1968


This is the Jimi Hendrix of Fillmore Psychedelic Posterdom...the Big Kahuna, the Brass Ring, the King of the World. It doesn't get any better than this...the justifiably famous "Flying Eyeball" poster by Rick Griffin.

When you own this, you own THE poster, mama. THE poster!

There are three Avalon Griffin posters which are in this league...but at the end of the day, this is THE ONE. This is Pure Stuff, right from the center of Griffin's incredible imagination and artistic skill. His Masterpiece of Masterpieces.

I have 232 posters, among which are well over a hundred great works of art for sale here...and this baby sits at the top of the pile---it sails above it, all on its own.

Do I want to sell it?


Will I sell it?

Mmmmmmm, only as part of the whole collection.

Rick worked with the legendary Von Dutch (Keith Howard), and Big Daddy Roth down in LA while he was involved in the surfing/hot rod culture down there...the flying eyeball is actually Von Dutch's logo, and this design is a homage (or, as Funky Jack laughingly insists, a rip-off) to him. I prefer to be less cynical...but Jack has a point.

When I lived in London in the early 70's and was playing drums, I made friends with Jack McCulloch, a drummer who managed the Fly record label for The Who. The heavy metal band I was in at the time, Third World War, was signed to Fly because our bass player, Jim Avery, played with Jack in Thnderclap Newman. The road manager for our band was a wonderful, self-effacing, and very efficient guy simply known as "H." I never knew his full name---Howard-something. He was previously Jimi's road manager up until Jimi died. When I moved to LA several years later in 1975, I received a card from his girlfriend stating that H was lost at sea, presumed dead. In 1997 in England I was watching that great special on Jimi Hendrix...and all-of-a-sudden there was H talking about him...on top of that, H was living in the flat in Notting Hill where Jimi died when he was with us.

I remember H commenting on this poster when he would come by the house to pick me up...it was the one poster of my collection he wanted, and he kept on at me about it....and I almost gave it to him in a weak moment.

Jack McCulloch asked me to come down to the Speakeasy, a swanky musician's hangout in Margaret street, just off Upper Regent Street, and share the drum duties with him while he showcased his guitarist younger brother, Jimmy, who had just finished playing with John Mayall...maybe Jimmy followed Eric, but I think another famous guitarist worked with John before Jimmy.

Jack didn't tell me why he was showcasing Jimmy, and I didn't ask.

Jimmy McCulloch

Paul McCartney was in the audience and was looking to hire Jimmy for Wings. As a result of that "audition" showcase, Jimmy got the gig. And later, Jimmy returned the favor by getting me into McCartney's audition for a new drummer for Wings after Denny Siewell left. Only I didn't get the gig! (I didn't feel bad, though, Mitch Mitchell auditioned just ahead of me, and he didn't get the gig, either).

Whenever Jimmy came by my flat, he would try to talk me out of this poster.

After I moved to LA at the end of '75, I got a call from Jimmy in '76 or '77 telling me he was at John Mayall's house at the top of Laurel Canyon and asked why I didn't show up at the final four nights for the Wings Over America tour. I should have gone to the sound check, but instead I tried to get in the stage door along with every star in Hollywood. I didn't make it, so I gave up.

"Paul, where were you? I arranged with Paul to have a whole percussion setup for you on stage, we expected you to show up for the sound check and you could have played all four nights!"


Jimmy invited me up to Mayall's, and I stayed two incredible days of partying with the most congenial and thoughtful host one could imagine: John Mayall. Lovely guy with a fascinating history. My good friend Jerry Phillips joined John and me as we incredibly stood naked on his balcony, holding hands, looking at the topless girls in the pool 12 feet below while they shouted and wiggled their encouragement for us to jump. We jumped---holding hands and nothing else---and was it PAINFUL!!!!

We all came spluttering to the surface groaning in agony as the girls were laughing and congratulating us (on being so stupid).

Rock 'n Roll.

That was the last time I saw the affable and charming pixie-like Jimmy....he died just a couple of years later in England in 1979...at 26. Such a shame, such a lovely, sweet, talented guy.

Here's to you, Jimmy.

When I finally left Mayall's house, I decided to walk back to Hollywood...it was a beautiful day and I needed to clear out the cobwebs. Half way down Lookout Mountain, a guy in a Caddie stopped and asked if I wanted a lift into Hollywood. It was James Clavell.

If you want to read more, order The Loop by following the links to "BOOKS."


This poster has staple holes in the corners, otherwise it's in perfect condition. It belongs in a musem.

These all do, really.