~15 WARREN . .

there were 3 curators of the one week-long group show that blew open the New Year, and reminded everybody that NYC – was still king. ABELINE COHEN was one.
ANDREW KASS was another.

I think it’s safe to say . . that when a young man who is hosting an event like this, holds forth a open coffin, lit by florescent tubing, and faces any and all . . on-comers thus, it’s going to be a blast.

it was more, like . . through the magic portal, through the passageway, of art.
it was nothing to do with . . skanky, smelly death.
nothing to do with fear, remorse or human frailty.
it was . . Peter Pan.
it was . . Alice in Wonderland.
f the towers.

it was walking, it was friggin teetering . . right on the ‘edge’.

it was the ‘obit’ notice – for the rest of ya pretentious ‘contemporary’ art world wannabes.

it was the young Tribeca-born and bred cowboys’, and cowgirls’ – way to put the nail . . in your coffin.

oh god, please take that sorry sad-ass Whitney Biennial, and friggin abort it.
along with 3/4 of Chelsea, and almost all of the Lower East Side, Brooklyn is a wobblin’. .
throw blood on the floor, and set it on fire.
now, that would be . . exciting.

and let a-n-y-b-o-d-y from 15 Warren, light . . the match.


MORE PIX, to follow.


no. the irony hasn’t escaped me, publishing these photos on the very first anniversary of Simon’s death, Jan 20, 2013.
though ‘skanky’ does come more to mind, than Peter Pan.
the worms that seeped out of the woodwork . . after he died !!
no, if you fed him drugs, and in measure way beyond moderation or recreation . . you were not part of his life – you were part of his DEATH.

if you cheated him, out of his rightful livelihood . . for the tips he gave you that you made good $$ on, you were a part of his DEATH.

I guess vampires, blood-sucking art world vampires .. . does come to mind.
coffins, and all.
oh. yeah. they’re for real.
Simon was a Greek, in heritage.in DNA. and they didn’t write the ODYSSEY, OEDIPUS REX, for naught.

artlovers is just my stage name – branded on me forever by that once-upon-a-time artnet editor: WALTER ROBINSON.

CHARLIE FINCH, his incomparable artnet essayist, who used Simon as his very own ‘seeing eye dog’ bye the way, au contraire . . got my number down, with his characteristic, and absolutely piercing flair: CRACKULA . . was what he called me, CRACK for short.
always deadly in aim, always cruising to kill. always, cracking jokes. all the while . . sucking the blood out of the pretenders, losers, ho’s, and wannabes, not to forget, ingrates !! . . that litter the scene.
you know the people blocking the way to . . the real holy grail: live wire talent.

how could CRACKULA not l-o-v-e, a good open coffin.


note: sometimes I actually, by absolute chance . . take the ‘last’ photo.
though I am probably more known for . . posting the first.
on a handful of fingers I can actually count having done both, with one artist.
just saying.

at the bottom of this post, is a great b+w photo of our young family outside the very raw Lower East Side Storefront, 5 Rivington St . . that became our defacto ‘home’ – after we got gentrified out of Tribeca.
there were running, nightly gun/drug battles on the rooftops, nasty hookers in black fishnets on the corner, casual acquaintances OD-ing on the doorstep, Bowery bums who would set fires just to see the firemen . . and JEAN MICHEL lived just around the corner.

there’s a big SHEPARD FAIREY tag on the block now. I like to think, it’s – in unspoken honor of the down and dirty glory days that ruled that short block . . in the true grit 80s.

final thought:

I’m wondering if WALTER cursed me.
‘CRACK’ like ‘VICE’ . . is so much more of an appealing, hipster byline . . for an underground ‘rag’ to be referred to, in the mainstream press ?
but then again, what’s in a . . name.
when push comes to shove, hardcore bows to no one.

though CHARLIE also said: what, the world revolves around Nancy ?
does everything come back to .. the Crack ?
apparently . . so.