Sunday, January 15, 2012


Another month passes and it's time once again to clean my camera phone cache.  This gem dates a few weeks back.  A fan in Pittsburgh finishing his MFA in sculpture recently asked me to join his graduate advisory committee.  Deeply honored (and thrilled to finally sit on the opposite side of a crit for once), I headed to Pittsburgh for two days of art antics only the rust belt bon-vivants of Steel City could provide.  In addition to a marathon thrift store run, we managed to fit in a quick visit to Andy Warhol's grave.  While unexpectedly verklempt, I failed to shed a single tear, though a gallon of Chipotle ice tea made sure I had an even more propitious offering at the ready.  In tribute to Andy's famous "oxidation paintings", where he hired boys to pee on specially treated copper canvases, I poured out my grief the only way I could at the time.  What a better way to honor the man that redefined American Art in the 20th century by explicitly tracing our obsessions with tabloid ready celebrity culture than with a warm bouquet of porn star piss?  Alas, we failed Andy's compulsion to document EVERYTHING.  Jonathan, the sculptor, provided his own generous offering so we weren't able to capture the moment on film.


  1. fitting. i somehow can't help feeling warhol would approve somehow.

  2. That sounds like a tall shaggy dog story if I ever heard one. You, resisting the temptation for explicit self-exposure! Karl Marx, resisting the impulse to document! Couldn't he just hold it for one goddamn minute (or 2 or 3) longer.

  3. It is a shame that we don't have concrete proof, but it was definitely an epic moment that I won't ever forget. :)