This is becoming my favorite end-of-tradition, especially with New Year’s tying into—oh, anyway… going to have at least one new work completed by the opening reception, which is December 17th. For me, drop off is earlier than that. Observing works of others keeps me motivated after the terrifying period of hospital and exhaustion to dive right in. (Today it was Francis Bacon, at the Gogosian uptown.)
It’s been less than a week since Eric got the call that Holly was in her final hours…he’d met her in NYC through Chrysis and again in LA, where they both worked at some novelty button company on Melrose for extra cash. I’d never gotten the chance to meet her personally, due to being younger and the tragic maternal decision to relocate us out of the city when I was too young to be given a proper say in my life… ique lastima!… but I want to be supportive all the same, when these angels of the old New York go, to me some are legend, others I’ve never heard of, but to him, here at the time he was, they are who were around in that world… Joe Dellesandro compiled messages for her from friends to be printed out in a giant card on the internet and I called Eric to come to the computer and type. Criticize social media and it’s supposed narcissism all you will, but it makes things like this possible where hopping on a plane isn’t really gonna happen money or time-wise. Within hours of Eric learning she had crossed over media articles began to appear about it, first on LGBTQ or art sites, then in mainstream media, usually with something about Andy Warhol or “Walk On The Wild Side” in the headline. Holly Woodlawn Rest In Power.