Keith Haring Journals (48 page)

Last night we went to dinner with the video people and met Francis Ford Coppola at dinner. We exchanged drawings. He used some of my stuff as props in his last film. I gave the whole table buttons.

Later we went with Kwong Chi to do his night shots at the Colosseum. Gil and I hung out with some guys playing soccer and smoked hash with them. They were really crazy, but fun.

Now, we’re on our way back to Paris for three days. The blimp is supposed to arrive tomorrow. I’ll believe it when I see it . . .

Paris was fun. Immediately upon check-in the madness begins. Gloria TNT calls us. We have tea with her upstairs in her suite. She wants to commission a playground for Regensburg.

The next day I go to Galerie Beaubourg with Gil to discuss show of mural from New York (91st) FDR Drive Mural (1984), which has been “rescued” and shipped to Paris. It is in really bad shape, but somehow this makes it look even better.

Went to Beaubourg (Pompidou) to see Matisse drawing show. The original paper cut-outs for the “Jazz” series were there—really beautiful. Yesterday in a mall in Beverly Hills we saw sweaters knitted out of these designs. Funny.

Saw the “Magicians of the Earth” show (a pseudo-primitive /modern exposé) that had a few interesting things and some really boring things as well.

Went to Bordas Studio and finished drawing on litho stones and signed last week’s prints.

By Saturday blimp has arrived in Calais (two hours north of Paris). Kwong and I drive up to do photos since I leave tomorrow and hadn’t seen it yet. It was pretty incredible.

We went up in a small plane and took aerial photos (very scary). The blimp looks great except I keep thinking I would rather have painted the whole thing. The banner is just the wrong proportion to the shape and size of the blimp. But it’s still pretty incredible. We took lots of photos and returned to Paris by midnight.

Saturday we went to Bobino. Fun. Nina Hagen was there, we hung out. She sang (rapped) to me for a long time. Gil got tired (who’s 19? who’s 31?), went home.

Sunday we flew on the Concorde to New York. I went to the studio to go through mail and then went to the movies to see [Spike Lee’s]
Do the Right Thing
with Lysa and Liz and Juan.

I’m still really distressed about this movie. I don’t know if it’s going to be misunderstood by the very people it needs to reach the most. I’m going to see it again. It’s filmed brilliantly, though, and pretty hysterical. Went to Jason and Liz’s roof and drank Pimm’s with fruit chunks and smoked pot (of course). Ate Colombian food and walked home. Ran into Rick and Loudie on the street. Walked around a little, loving New York again (except the smell) and went home.

Packed quickly Monday morning and got 10:15 MGM flight to L.A. Tony was on the same flight. Got car (red Jaguar convertible) and checked in Bel-Air. Call everyone I know in L.A. I want to talk to and leave messages on machines.

Sandra Bernhard invited us to dinner at her house. Madonna, Warren Beatty, Shaun (Sandra’s girlfriend and writer for
Flash Art
) and some others. Fun dinner.

Today [July 4] is Gil’s birthday. We’re going to the beach and then to Dennis Hopper’s house in Venice Beach for dinner (another newlywed) and then go to Warren Beatty’s barbecue. L.A. L.A. L.A.

We’re flying back to New York. This week we did lots of L.A. things:

Went to Venice Beach, went to Malibu, went to see
Batman
at Grauman’s Chinese Theatre, went to see
Do the Right Thing
again, went to eat hot dogs at Pinks, went to lots of L.A. clubs, saw Barbara and Tim Leary, went to see Pee Wee on the set in Culver City, went to Pee Wee’s house in Hollywood Hills, etc., etc., etc.

The installation of the sculpture (which was supposed to be the reason for this whole trip) was a disaster. The helicopter couldn’t hold the weight of the sculpture and dropped it almost immediately. It smashed a concrete wall and got seriously damaged (scratches, etc.).

Now it has to be put in with a crane. I don’t know why this wasn’t done in the first place. Someone had a brilliant idea that it would be easier with a helicopter . . . so much for that. Anyway, now it’s being installed on Monday. I won’t see it. I’ve got to get back to New York and get back to work and try to get my life together. Good luck.

I don’t know if I’m looking forward to being in New York this summer or not. It’s hot and disgusting and I can’t even go to the pool. It could be interesting or it could be horrible.

I probably won’t be there long, anyway . . . I should go to Santa Fe for the Burroughs/Haring exhibition of the Apocalypse prints and then to Europe in August. Oh well . . .

I’m in the airport in Rome. I have an hour to kill and since I haven’t been keeping a diary on this trip so far, I guess I might as well write a little bit now in this book I bought.

I’ve been in Europe for two weeks. I went to Switzerland first to be a judge on a jury for a comedy film festival. Grace Jones was also a judge, which made it bearable, but just barely.

She came with Angelo and Paolo (her son, who is now nine) and her nephew Petie (Pee-tee?), who is eleven years old and completely hysterical. I spent most of the week hanging out with the kids, which was fun. The films were all shit, except the English one and the American one. The English one (
How to Get Ahead in Advertising
) was really great and the other (
Sidewalk Stories
) was good, too. It was shot in New York (a lot of it across from my apartment) and had my Free South Africa poster in one long scene. Both of these films won awards. I hung out with Pierre Keller and this French actress, Isabelle Pasco, most of the time. They were judges, too.

I saw Jean Tinguely in his new studio, and finally chose a great sculpture for our trade. It is really a good one and just in time for my new apartment.

The apartment, by the way, is well under way with Sam [Havadtoy] sending me fabric samples, Polaroids of my bed, marbleized molding samples, etc. It’s actually amazing to me that it’s happening.

After a week in Switzerland I went to Monte Carlo where I immediately painted a mural at Princess Grace Hospital. This was all prearranged and wonderfully organized with
major
press (
Time, People
, AP, Sygma, Gamma, etc.) and a luncheon with the princess (Caroline) and Helmut and June Newton and Josh Segal (son of Ali McGraw) at the Monte Carlo Beach Club and a dedication of the mural complete with “unveiling” and champagne and cakes, covered by local TV and Eurovision and major paparazzi. The whole thing went pretty smoothly. (And the mural looks great.)

Hanging out with Debra and Bea (the German nanny from two years before who shared an Ecstasy “experience” with Grace, Yves, Debra, and me).

I hate Debra when she gets drunk, and we had some unpleasant experiences, but every morning everything was O.K. Madison is so beautiful it’s hard to believe. Constantly laughing and babbling on about nothing. She’s really the reason I came anyway. This is sort of a continuation of my see-thegodchildren trip that started in the Hamptons with Zena Scharf, to Kutztown to baptize Kermit’s baby, to big Haring picnic at Aunt Sissy’s house, to Monte Carlo to see Madison, and now off to Italy to see the Clemente kids.

I went to visit Carmel and Bruno Schmidt and Mattias (the new baby) and Samantha for one day also. That was really sweet and it really feels like my family (the original New York family).

I went with Bea to see the chapel Matisse designed in Vence. It was fucking incredible. Totally inspirational. Why haven’t I painted on ceramic tiles yet? It’s perfect for me. I think I’d really love to design a church even though I don’t really feel too strongly about organized religion. Or rather, I do feel strongly about opposing
organized
religion. But I’d love to design a place for people to go and be quiet and reflect and think and feel totally comfortable—more like a shrine or a temple, I suppose. There’s all this stuff I’ve been thinking about on this short trip that I really want to try to do.

I still
really
want to design a pair of sneakers. I have all these new painting ideas and sculpture ideas that I can’t wait to start. I made drawings in Switzerland and Monte Carlo. That was great, but not enough. I really want to go back and try to heal myself by painting. I think I could actually do it. I’m reading this book Swen Swenson gave me about healing yourself and love and medicine. I’ve been injecting myself with alpha interferon every day. That’s pretty weird, but I’ve adjusted pretty easily. I hope it’s helping. I’d really like to paint it away. It’s hard to think of anything else every time I’m near a mirror.

We went on a yacht the other day with a man who owns the Ritz and Harrods of London (among other things). Can you imagine?

I think my plane might be landing now.

It wasn’t.

There’s a huge cockroach (water bug) crawling around in front of me. Everyone is just sort of “watching” it. There’s a beautiful (of course) Italian boy sitting across from me watching with amusement, contemplating the fate of the . . . oops! . . . somebody stepped on it. They didn’t even see it.

I was supposed to fly to Naples by helicopter (aren’t I extravagant?) but the rain forced me to take a plane, or rather two planes, and now I’m in Rome waiting for my connecting flight to Napoli.

God, I love Italy. This is really one of my favorite places in the world. It just “feels” right here.

Italy is totally amazing. The entire time here has been like a dream. One event after another. Amalfi is really beautiful. Built in cliffs overlooking the clearest ocean I’ve ever seen. We went to Naples Saturday for a party at Philip Taaffe’s villa. I’ve never seen anything like it: huge villa right on the ocean restored to its original state (with decay). Diego Cortez, Ricki Clifton (yecch!), Maximilian, etc., etc.

It was pretty amazing. Massimo is doing a film in Napoli and has been auditioning typical Neapolitan boys. He has an extensive Polaroid collection of every age boy (shirtless) available.

I had the best pizza I’ve ever eaten in my life with Francesco and Alba [Clemente].

In Amalfi before we went to Naples (the night before) we took a boat to Francesco’s studio and saw the paintings he did here. Really sweet. The paint meshes with the surface and just sits there like it grew there. It looks like skin. His friend and assistant Claudio (who restores old masterpieces) helped him create all kinds of paints and special surfaces. The paintings are really beautiful and the whole trip to get there and back on the little boat with Alba, Chiara, Nina and their cousin was equally enchanting.

I think riding on the front of this boat (lying down with Nina’s head on my arm), with warm water splashing my hand, the cool ocean breeze and the landscape of the cliffs of Amalfi lit up like an opera set, was one of the most incredible moments of my life. This is why I want to be alive, for moments like this.

6:00 AM: I arrive in Paris and have an hour wait to change for my plane to Milano. I sit across from the “collection box” I designed for the Paris airports. The piece is made well and looks great standing in the airport. The money is supposed to go to some French charity directed toward children. I notice several people stop and read the sign on the box, but I didn’t see anyone put any change in it. Maybe it’s too early in the morning for charity.

I take a plane to Milano. It is full of French businessmen. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to these people. They (businessmen) seem subhuman to me. I’m reading the chapter on Sun City, the retirement community, in
Cities on a Hill
. It’s interesting to realize that old age is a relatively “new” phenomenon that my generation takes completely for granted. The generation of people growing old now is one of the first, ever. Due to advances in medicine, etc. The book is quoting average life spans in the 17th, 18th and 19th centuries, and all the time I’m reading this I keep thinking about dying. I mean, maybe it’s not as “unfair” as I think.

Many people at many times only lived to 30 or 40. If I was born in another place or time, maybe I would have died at war or in another disaster. AIDS is the new plague. Why do I think I should be exempt? Why not me? There is an illusion of “safety” in the world I live in. Because of medicine, science and financial security, we tend to believe that we are “safe.” But, as I must now realize, it is no more safe now than it was in the 17th century. Nothing lasts forever. And nobody can escape death.

I’ve debated for a while whether or not I should write about Gil in this diary. But since I don’t feel guilty, and I don’t want to hide anything since I’m not doing anything I think is wrong, why should I hide it? I love Juan very much and don’t want to hurt him, but I hope that if he ever reads this he’ll understand even more because I wrote and explained it. It’s a little bit complicated, but to me it makes perfect sense. I love traveling with Juan, and I have several times in Europe, but our relationship has grown in different ways. And although it is better in many ways, I need to have a kind of input that only a fresh outlook can give me. I really want to have the experience of showing Gil Europe. I know it will be important for him and I think it’s even important to me. A few weeks ago I was sure I was going to bring him, and then I changed and re-changed my mind several times at the last minute. I didn’t want to jeopardize my relationship with Juan, and I know Juan well enough to know he could never understand or accept why I need to have this experience. So, it inevitably has to be done behind his back to avoid hurting him, unfortunately.