I first saw Andy at openings at Dick Bellamy’s Green Gallery and at the Pop Art show at the Sidney Janis Gallery on October 31, 1962. It was the very first show of the original seven Pop artists— Warhol, Lichtenstein, Rosenquist, Segal, Wesselmann, Dine, and Indiana—and it so outraged and offended the old-guard Abstract Expressionists (de Kooning, Rothko, Motherwell, etc.) that they all resigned from the Janis Gallery in protest. It was the Halloween that changed art history.
Several days later with my friend the painter Wynn Chamberlain, I went to the opening of Andy Warhol’s first one-man show, at the Stable Gallery. It was right after the Cuban Missile Crisis, and everyone believed a nuclear war could actually happen at any moment. Gold Marilyn Monroe hung on the wall as you entered. This was it! Troy Donahue, Red Elvis, serial paintings of Campbell’s soup cans, Coke bottles, and dollar bills. Everyone in the art world was there.
I stood in the very crowded gallery, a little dazed. I knew it was better not to have complicated thoughts about the art, but to simply be with it. Experience it beyond concepts, in the very noisy room. We walked up to Andy, and Wynn said, “I’d like to introduce a young poet, Giorno.”
I took hold of Andy’s soft hand, which dangled from his wrist, and squeezed it. We looked in each other’s eyes. Something happened a spark.
“Ohhh!” hummed Andy. I dropped his hand. “I love the show,” said Wynn. Andy was pleased. Over the next few months, I ran into Andy at art openings, parties, and Happenings. Sometimes I said hi to Andy, but there was almost no interaction.
This story is from the July 20 - August 02, 2020 edition of New York magazine.
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This story is from the July 20 - August 02, 2020 edition of New York magazine.
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