Showing posts with label Princess Diana. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Princess Diana. Show all posts

Friday, August 7, 2026

Andy's Analog Instagram Account

An unexpected treat awaited me at the Whitney when I went to see the Biennial.

Jed & Jay Johnson
Hundreds of photos that Andy Warhol took in the early 1970s with his ever-present Polaroid camera are exhibited in "Family Album."


I'll begin with the gay twins at the top:  Jed and Jay Johnson.  Andy put the California boys to work doing odd jobs at the Factory shortly after their arrival in New York City.  Jed eventually moved in with Andy, first to nurse him back to health after Valerie Solanas shot him, eventually becoming his both his boyfriend and a successful interior designer.  Archie liked him, too.  


You may have seen his crotch on the cover of Sticky Fingers.  The zipper still works on my LP, whose scandalous cover Andy conceived. 


But Jay was the stunner, at least in these photos.  


He took over Jed's design firm after his brother went down with TWA Flight 800 in 1996. Two of my housemates in the Pines encountered debris from the crash--never explained--during a beach walk.


Jay also exposed the Johnson family jewels in this oversize photo of the Factory crowd, shot in several panels by Richard Avedon.  "I think the first time I saw the final photograph was when it was at the Whitney for Avedon’s retrospective in 1994. I was a little surprised when I walked into the room and there I was, (second from the left) about 20 feet tall," he told Interview in 2012.  Can you imagine?

Although he's been married to a man since 2011, Jay dated Jane Forth, a nice Catholic girl from Michigan, and introduced her to Andy who took a shine to her, too. Her loopy turn in Trash, sans eyebrows, caught the discerning eye of Diana Vreeland, the chief fashionista of the time, who tried without success to make her into a runway model. Too short!


Jane became a make-up artist instead, favoring the classic Hollywood glamor look.  She may have inspired Klaus Nomi in the decade to come.


Fashion illustrator Antonio Lopez 


. . . and a twenty-something Diane von Fürstenberg were among Jane's fans.  When the latter sat for Andy, her separation from Prince Egon was imminent. Not to worry--her wrap dress was just about to make her iconic in the fashion world and the Princess title helped.


Von Fürstenberg's German in-laws hadn't been thrilled by her heritage (they refused to attend to the couple's wedding reception) but Jonathan Horowitz included the Jewish-now-American-former Princess in his “Ten Portraits of Jews of the Twentieth Century” plus ninety-two more" (2020), although I believe he used a later portrait.  She liked the early ones best.  By then, HIV complications had ended her ex-husband's life and she had married another gay man.


Andy loved him a royal.  Princess Caroline of Monaco (who's not looking at her phone, BTW!) was still single when he took this candid.


It would be another decade before Andy's portrait of her appeared on the cover of French Vogue, shortly after he silk screened an image of Princess Diana from her official engagement portrait by Lord Snowdon.


Clearly, taking Polaroids first enhanced the quality of the Warhol's silk screen portraits. Diana looks positively stuffy.


While gazing at Andy's Polaroids with as much concentration as a Russian drone spotter, I realized blank stares likely were a more common reaction, but many of the subjects were the bold-face names of my youth.  I pooh pooh parasocial relationships now, but the exhibition reminded me that I had one then, however infrequently maintained.

My part-time job at Bloomingdale's came with an employee discount to purchase designer clothing, including a wool, window-pane suit in smokey taupe with wide lapels and flared trousers (unlined, it itched terribly!) by Pierre Cardin


. . .  and a three-piece Yves Saint Laurent suit in green corduroy, with matching glasses (yikes!).  Saint Laurent is pictured with both Bianca Jagger


. . . and Jacques de Bascher, the boy toy he briefly stole from Karl Lagerfeld who has been depicted no less than three times in movies and on television (Yves Saint Laurent, Saint Laurent, and Becoming Karl Lagerfeld).  Meh.


My fantasy boy toys leaned more in the direction of Joe Dallesandro (sadly not pictured although Trash opens with a tight close-up of his bare buttocks) and Helmut Berger who looks a little like David in this shot. 


After seeing him in The Damned (where his buttocks are exposed) and The Romantic Englishwoman, I fell hard.  Looks like Andy may have, too.


Here he is with Bianca, barely visible behind her hat.  Said Andy in Exposures, his 1979 book:

Bianca Jagger is one of the most Socially Diseased people I know. She's almost as bad as me—and I'm terminal. She loves to go out every night to the hottest spot in town and make a big dramatic entrance in a big dramatic dress.


Bianca appears regularly in his family album although Studio 54 didn't open for another four years.  She lived in cottage on his Montauk property.  Looks like it came with a meal plan.


Although it's hard to tell from this photo of Truman Capote (the best of several in the show), Andy idolized the author of Other Voices, Other Rooms. 


The precocious young author's photo on the book jacket may have been a factor.  Fame is a harsh master.

Photo by Harold Halma (1948)
I couldn't imagine that Patricia Neal--an actress who had won an Oscar before a debilitating stroke--and Andy ran in the same circles but she had recovered enough by the early 1970s to make a comeback. He probably found it appealing.  Having seen Giant earlier this summer, his blurry photo had an added resonance.  Neal's TV ads for Maxim instant coffee, which leveraged her prestige and plummy voice, were a major part of the comeback--her second--but they also contributed to the end of her marriage. While on set, Roald Dahl, her husband, met the woman with whom he would have a lengthy affair before finally leaving Neal, the mother of his five children.  


Here's to you, Andy--ninety-eight years after your birth, you're still finding ways to give me vicarious pleasure!  And thanks to the Whitney Museum for providing access to his analog Instagram account.

Sunday, October 23, 2022

Arrival in London

After checking in with Chris at our comfy Airbnb in Chelsea, a stone's throw from the River Thames, Thom and I headed for Portobello Road.  It was my first visit to London since 2016 and my Oyster card still worked!  But Thom had no trouble tapping his AmEx card to ride the Tube.

Flea markets aren't normally my thing, but we had fun.  I found a couple of nice gifts and bought a pillow cover for my bed at the Folly.

A jazz combo performed.


These artists were using a broom and their feet to paint a very large canvas while soliciting pedestrian input.

I hope to see a real Banksy in Shoreditch before we leave.


Can it really be more than 20 years ago that Julia Roberts and Hugh Grant introduced Notting Hill to an international audience?  Back then, gentrification didn't seem like such a dirty word.

The poshness isn't ubiquitous, however.

We met this group of Eastern Europeans while stopping for a drink at The Mitre.  Marian, a Romanian painter on the far right (literally AND figuratively) had plenty to say about England as his land of opportunity, although he's also glad his ten-year-old son is growing up back home "where the forests are still wild."

Despite three previous trips to London, including childhood and after college graduation, I don't think I'd ever seen Kensington Gardens.


It isn't hard to find the statue of a very slim, 18-year-old Queen Victoria in her coronation robes. She's surrounded by a moat.

The statue of Princess Diana, commissioned by her sons and unveiled just a little more than a year ago, was a different story altogether. We asked three different people. You can't get nearly as close to her and the three figures who represent her commitment to children. 

Benny Hill yukked it up in this fine example of Palladian architecture on Queen's Gate for more than 25 years.

Nissan must not have marketed this vintage (1991) Figarol in the United States.  They could have done a collab with Pepto Bismol!

Despite the loss of five hours due to the time change and taking a double decker bus to Portobello Road, Thom and I still managed to walk nearly ten miles and do some grocery shopping.  We may rent bikes if the good weather keeps up.


More London: