Doing it in New York

The first morning after returning I went to the street to buy a newspaper. I looked at the woman at the newsstand , paused, then burst out laughing. While traveling, I had moved so much that I had to think what language to use to ask for the paper. When it dawned on me that morning in New York City I could speak English, I burst out laughing. I had always thought New York was a city way too big and complex for me to handle. When I realized I could speak my native tongue, my fear of the city vanished. Living in New York would be a snap compared to negotiating Barcelona, Milan and Paris where I'd just been. Upon reflection I can see that purpose gives us energy to accept challenges. As we negotiate them, obstacles in our path presented by similar challenges disintegrate.

I found myself in the capital of the art world. I figured I'd stay about three years, until I was famous, then I'd move to a secluded home in the country where I could have a studio overlooking handsome gardens. Seven years later I flew out of JFK nearly as anonymously as I had landed, with a still purple bullet wound adorning the front and back of my chest.

The Club Scene In the late '70's and early '80's I discovered the underground club world. In it I found a vein of society as vibrant as I felt. It provided me with a realm where I could explore the limits of my being. I began to frequent a small night spot on Saint Marks Place in the East Village called Club 57, run by Ann Magnuson. It was there I also met and worked with Keith Haring, and Jean Michel Basquiat, among others who were to become luminaries of the art world. One fall, my lover and partner Lisa Evers Sliwa (the outspoken promoter of the Guardian Angels) and I produced a giant masked ball that Lisa co-chaired with Paloma Picasso. The party combined the downtown arts scene with uptown wealth. One of the contributing artists was Paloma's mother, Francoise Gilot.

And the Story Goes...

The next spring Francoise needed a studio to prepare for a show and called me to ask if I would be willing to share mine. I could hardly believe it.

Francoise, then probably in her mid-sixties, was a beautiful woman who possessed enormous grace and charm. She had an extraordinary voice that made everything she said sound like lyrics to a song. And she used this voice to tell stories. It was Francoise Gilot, Picasso's mistress of ten years, subject of the recent movie "Leaving Picasso" starring Anthony Hopkins, who introduced me to the art of story telling.

Unfortunately I was too stupid to relate to her as a fellow human being. To me she was a legend. Nor did I document our relationship. I made this photo by cutting off the head of her escort to my party and sticking on mine. It is a lie which tells the truth.

photograph by Lena Bertucci, editing by Pam Belding

Photograph by Lena Bertucci

Within a short time I was earning my living producing parties in night clubs and showing my paintings in Soho galleries. Here I am wearing a wig and antlers in my Chelsea loft on one of the evenings of each week which I turned my loft into a performance space. One of my favorite talents was Joe Frank, a radio dramatist. Here you see him in his first live performance at my loft.