The recent show Andy Warhol—From A to B and Back Again at the Whitney was a point of connection.
Mark-making is the basis for all of my art. For instance, when I was about 7 years old, I made a cathedral on a blue piece of construction paper, gluing cotton swabs onto it to make the lines.
After Dad passed away, I spent seven years taking care of Mom. Within that context, we enjoyed many moments of transformation…she and I inhabiting myriad roles as we enjoyed the mise-en-scene of home...along with Gloria, best friend and catalyst. I was reminded of that time when I saw Andy’s early painting of his mom Julia’s living room, and his film of her sleeping.
I especially liked the idea of Julia signing Andy’s works with her calligraphy. Also seeing on some of the earlier drawings on display how he studied magazine images and dealt with the back and forth of ad agency co-workers, making adjustments via pithy editing to illustrations.
A gigantic painting of a newspaper page…a layout so alluring…reminding me of days in journalism school…and being taught the purpose of newspapers is to sell newspapers. And then a drawing of money…a secret ritual....
The incidence of sculpture...perfect sheets of Mylar in colors next to psychedelic electric chairs. Canvases of collaboration with dear friends, further guardian angels. Drawings of the Polaroid Big Shot, and a Walkman, among other objects, awaken the movement of my hands. His book and other objects entice my hand to pick up the pen.
Van peeks like a rabbit at a gigantic camouflage painting, a veil from one of the greatest performances of all time.
On the way out, I saw the contents of one of Andy’s time capsules…veritable medicine packages. I adored seeing a U.S. stereo-mono promo 7-inch of «Shanghai Bill» autographed by Ultra Violet, a phone number scribbled on its company sleeve.
On that day I was wearing Wrangler jeans with Scooter drips, Arturo Vega tee we silkscreen-printed at Howl with Ted, and an Agnes de Garron hat in oatmeal, which Dominic picked up for me one Beltane. I stood in front of Andy’s painting Tunafish Disaster for the photo, which Van took.
