Keith Haring Journals (27 page)

Beastie Boys about to go on, “Lower the Flag and Play Rocky.” I return to my seat. Great show. A lot of audience abuse. Eventually after Run DMC, the crowd in front got out of hand and somebody (from the band?) threw mace. Mild chaos, which spills out into street and police break up the mob. Fun for Paris! Nobody seriously hurt. We go eat around the corner and then go to Palace for the “dinner.” Actually everybody from Beasties and Run are there and is O.K. party. Food fight started by E.K.

Stay a while longer to talk to French cock-teasers and return to hotel.

Picked up by a taxi to deliver us to the Cartier Foundation. I assume this has something to do with what Daniel Templon was saying the other day about moving the sculpture. We arrived and were surprised to find out that this was the home of one of my favorite sculptures,
Long-Term Parking
by Arman. So, already the place was O.K. with me.

Had a great lunch with the director of the foundation, Marie-Claude Beaud, who turned out to be a good friend of Jean-Louis Froment and equally lovable. We found several ideal locations for my sculpture. Daniel said they are considering buying, but she said they’d rather commission a piece specifically for the site.

Had a nice conversation about the “Eastern” (i.e., Japanese, Chinese calligraphy) aspect of my work, the approach, method, attitude, etc. I think people see my work completely clearly after they realize the connection to (what seems obvious to me) a larger philosophic and aesthetic tradition. I think my ability to explain this is definitely developing more coherently, the more I write and the more I answer questions (i.e., interviews, lectures). I think I always sensed it and understood it intuitively, but it is difficult to explain.

Took a taxi back to hotel and made and received phone calls. Several calls to work on Swiss magazine-cover project. Find a model, call Azzedine for suggestions, call Iman, call Zurich. Call Hans in Düsseldorf to check on sculpture. George Mulder called to explain delay in James Baldwin project. Baldwin’s in the hospital, hope he’s O.K. If he can’t do project, I suggest we use Bill Burroughs. George says, “Who’s William Burroughs?” Call Debbie Arman in Monte Carlo. Call Kermit to talk about his problem/my problem of him having to move, having another baby, etc. Meaning he has to sell some art, maybe, and we have to find new storage space. No big problem. We’ll find money for him somehow. Also talk about production of models for Düsseldorf sculpture. Call from London. ICA wants me to come to do children’s workshop in July. Probably.

Then I judge the drawings sent to me from New York for the “Spectra” contest for Mattel Toys. One hundred thirty-three drawings by children (6 to 12): their concept of what a teenager from outer space would look like. This was a fun task. Some great drawings. Some hysterically funny. I picked (of course) the ones with the craziest imagination. There is hope out there in the future generations.

Went to dinner with Lucio Amelio and his boyfriend at a Vietnamese restaurant near the hotel. We invite his boyfriend to our room, unsuccessfully. He has a cold, he explains.

Take Polaroids of Beaubourg painting. Also, suggest they should put a little barrier in front of it, since it has already been soiled from people leaning or passing against it. Look everywhere in exhibition to find photo of Necker mural. I can’t find it.

Took a taxi to get my portrait done by Louis Jammes. Passed a truck unloading Warhol paintings. Louis Jammes portrait session was in studio of Robert Combas, who, I’ve always had the impression, can’t stand me. I don’t care about him one way or the other. I just don’t care. After the photo this other guy arrived (sort of cute) and immediately they had to close the curtains to do drugs. How boring. I can’t believe they’re gonna do H in front of me as if they’re proud of it. I mean, I hardly know these people. The (sort of) cute guy is bragging about how well he speaks English and explains how he stays in New York with a “
faggot
” who works for the French embassy. He says, “He was the only man I ever slept with that
didn’t
touch me.” He sounds so surprised. I wanted to ask him what about all the other men who slept with him that
did
touch him? They weren’t
faggots
, so that was fine, I presume.

Louis walks me to the Métro station and I take a train back to the hotel to meet Juan.

Went to James Brown opening at Galerie Maeght-Lelong. Interesting show. Not what I expected (that’s good, right?) but some great paintings. Not so sure, though. Need another time to look.

Lots of people there. More art dealers than artists. Definitely is “money art.” It even “looks” expensive. I think that’s my market problem, my paintings don’t “look” expensive.

11:00 AM: Quick meeting with woman who called and wanted to talk about Brion Gysin and the problem of not letting him disappear. Also, all the works that were inherited by Bill Burroughs have to be sheltered by a foundation to avoid ridiculous French taxation. I want to help however possible. Have got to have an exhibition of
Fault Lines
, so we can start to accumulate monies toward a foundation. Brion Gysin and William Burroughs have had incredible influence on me and provided a lot of inspiration. Brion, after becoming my friend, became a kind of teacher (like Andy). I learned innumerable things from our conversations, but I think equally as much from his “works.” It’s important that his work be available to future generations of artists. Their work gave me a structure from which to build and within which to understand what I had already done. When I discovered their work in 1979 it was a major revelation, filling in all the missing pieces. I was, I suppose, already working in that direction without understanding what I was doing. For the first few weeks their influence came through their “works” only, but after I met them (and especially Brion), a give-and-take of information began that helped me to understand the intellectual side of what I was doing.

Also, it was my first real contact with “the brotherhood” of artists that has existed through the ages. They initiated me, in a way, into this “brotherhood” by sharing with me some of the secrets and intimacies of their lives as young, gay artists. There is a very real historical line that can be traced all the way back. Brion knew all about this. He spoke of it very eloquently and, although thoroughly more intelligent than me, never talked down to me, but talked to me as if I were also a part of this. Through his confidence in me and his assurance and analogies to my historical counterparts, I began to accept the fact that I am part of this, whether history will accept it or not. Many, like Brion, have been written out of history by an uninformed, barbarically (fake intellectual) conservative, homophobic public. It is up to the people who knew Brion and understood his importance to try to fight against his disappearance.

Anyway, this woman talked with me about Brion and also told me she thought it was important that I keep working because I understood how to “compose” a picture. The key was in her use of the word “composition,” and I think I know what she means. This is, in a way, what Brion was talking about in the introduction he wrote for my catalogue in Bordeaux. Beaubourg painting is titled (for Brion Gysin) “Untitled” because he could see it from his window.

Drive to Cartier Foundation and see Ferrari exhibition, again. Mainly came back because Jean-Louis Froment was supposed to be coming up from Bordeaux, but he never showed up. Also saw Yves Morisi, the newscaster whose jacket I drew on for French TV during a live transmission from the Paris Biennale in 1985. Also, ran into Claude and Sydney Picasso and got a ride with them back to Paris. Had lunch together at Café Trocadéro.

Back to hotel and drop off bags at Condo’s house. Ate dinner at restaurant in Bastille with George, Mabe, Juan and Joe Glasco. Great new paintings at George’s. Makes me want to paint like this, but I keep thinking I have to resist the temptation. There is really a line of logic and consistency in what I am doing and, however frustrating at times, must be pursued. I’m sure if I repainted over and over I could make paintings like this, but that’s something else. A lot of people could do that, but not a lot of people can do it the other way.

Woke up. Did autographs on towels for the girls in the hotel who’ve been answering my phone for the last two weeks. Taxi to airport. Fly to Nice on a plane headed for Johannesburg. Picked up by Yves and Debbie Arman at the airport and drive to Monte Carlo. See apartment, take a walk on the beach and talk to Alberto Vençago, the photographer, who has flown down from Zurich to shoot the cover with suncream painting for Swiss magazine tomorrow. He wants to shoot early (7:30), so we go to bed to get some sleep.

Wake up to paint at 7:00 AM. Photographer and model arrive at 7:30. First impression was not good. I thought they were getting a black girl, instead it’s an Amazonian farm girl from Utah. She looks better without clothes. I “paint” her with five colored sun-block creams with my fingers. This is the first time I’ve ever painted a body with my fingers. Too bad it wasn’t a boy. Alberto takes lots of photos in the apartment. Yves and Juan also clicking away.

Then we go outside. The reaction from people is great. Lots of fat German tourists running after us to get pictures.

We make a “monoprint” by putting a white sheet on the grass and L’Ren lying on top of it. This was, in fact, her idea. In the middle of the print the Monaco police arrive and ask us to stop. We finish the print and return to Yves’ apartment with the police.

Police leave after a while.

Write a little, take a long walk on the beach, swim with Debbie. Watch 14-year-old boys playing soccer on beach. Call Hans Mayer: now I don’t have to be in Düsseldorf till Monday. Begin to make (try to make) reservations to leave Nice Monday.

Drive to Nice with Yves to go shopping, etc. Visit Arman’s studio in Vence. Book reservation on train and plane to get to Düsseldorf by Monday night. Buy Styrofoam for seat covers for apartment. The man at the Styrofoam place let me use the saw to cut out some extra shapes. Small crowd of people watching. Return to Monte Carlo.

Call Julia, Tony, etc. Tony still obsessed by AIDS rumors. I think I’m in
more
danger driving with Yves. I think it’s really disgusting that people have nothing better to do than wait for the next victim, like vultures. Maybe they’re concerned. I don’t know, in a way I’ve gotten over it. I really don’t care anymore. Life and death are inevitable. I think I’ve had a great life and every day is a surprise. I’m happy to be alive today.

Called New York to talk to Juan and found out, by accident, that Adolfo was planning a party in my studio. Called Adolfo to tell him he is
not
having a party and he can hand in his keys till I return. Also, trouble brewing at Pop Shop. I think it’s definitely time to make some changes. Belgian TV calls to confirm arrival Tuesday.

Paint the Baby Room for Madison, Yves and Debbie’s forthcoming baby, my goddaughter. Also paint the crib and high chair. More calls from Julia about New York situation. It’s pretty depressing that I can’t leave New York without things falling apart. Julia is the only one I can count on. I really have to start to plan a new course, new strategy (i.e., Tony, Pop Shop, Studio, etc.). I’m more sure about what to do all the time. Took a long walk to beach and sat and watched the sun go down.