Got up early in the morning in order to meet Bob in order to meet Paloma and Lester at MOMA (cab $3). We went around the exhibit with Paloma, she was talking and Lester was being funny, and it was exhausting, it's three floors. A guy in a wheelchair asked me for my autograph, and I said, "Don't you want Paloma Picasso's?"And he said yes, so Paloma signed and then I signed and then we had to leave because Paloma had to get back to Tiffany's where they sell her jewelry.
Old Mrs. Newhouse came to see the portraits of her husband, but her son was with her and he fell in love with the diamond-dust ones.
Oh, and David Whitney came by, we're talking to him about maybe redoing the Jewish Museum show and I'm doing a portrait of him because he's been so nice. He brought his tux, he really looked cute in it. He invited me to Thursday dinner with Philip Johnson, he said he'll send a car for me, that anyone as big as I am should have a car -- he was being funny.
Brigid went on a candy binge. She said she was going out for cigarettes but Robyn noticed that she took more money than she'd need for cigarettes, so when she got back I said, "I see chocolate on your mouth." I didn't really see any, but that worked and she admitted she'd had ice cream.
Glued myself together and went to Cote Basque to help Suzie Frankfurt celebrate -- she just got almost a million for her house and she bought a cheaper one. Mr. and Mrs. Law arrived. I think Mrs. Law is Standard Oil rich and I don't know exactly what her husband does, maybe he invests her money. That's what usually happens when you marry a rich woman. Or maybe he's rich himself, who knows. She wants me to retouch her portrait because now she's made her hair lighter. It'll probably turn out to be one of those "living portraits" where I have to to [sic] keep doing things to it.
We went over to Bonds. And John Samuels was there and he's so mean to me now. I think he tries to be nice, but he can't help himself, he says mean things. I'll have to ask him why. We were there for a few minutes. Mr. Law was dancing around and his wife said that he would get a heart attack. Oh, and Bob was there and he looked so sour. He feels he can't have fun unless he has a drink. And he and Fred are the same -- if there's no princes, they look so bored.
Warhol, A. (1989). The Andy Warhol Diaries (P. Hackett, Ed.). Pg. 297-298. New York: Warner Books.
Showing posts with label Philip Johnson. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Philip Johnson. Show all posts
Sunday, October 16, 1977
David Whitney called about going together to the Jasper Johns opening that night at the Whitney -- Philip Johnson was going with Blanchette Rockefeller.
Pretty day. Cabbed downtown ($3.50) then walked to work. Richard Weisman and his little kids arrived and Margaret Trudeau was with them. She's really split up with her husband now so she lets herself be photographed with anybody, and I guess she's been dating Richard for a while. She was primping the kids' hair. I didn't have enough light bulbs though, and they fought over the teddy bear.
Cabbed to the Whitney ($2). Bob Rauschenberg blew me a kiss in the elevator and then later came over and said it was silly to blow a kiss so he kissed me. Jasper was drinking Jack Daniel's It was a small party, just for lenders, old people. I ran downstairs to get a catalogue and then I looked around to have Jasper sign it, but I couldn't find him so I had Rauschenberg sign it, and then I did find Jasper and he rubbed out Rauschenberg's signature and signed "To a Lender."
John Cage was there with Lois Long, de Antonio's first wife. Jack and Marion Javits were there, and Jack gave a speech. Robert Rosenblum was there, and he just got married. I guess it's another Nicky Weymouth-Kenny Jay Lane-type thing. He's from the gay old Henry Geldzahler crowd. Mrs. Irving who's the president of the museum whose mother is a Whitney was there. She lives down the street from me and I've asked her a few times if I could rent the garage space in her carriage house for the car. I want it so badly, but nothing ever happens. At the Whitney she said that she definitely would call me -- and I think it's because I ran into her husband going into the garage that morning.
When we sat down to dinner there were packages of Philip Morris cigarettes at each place -- they were the sponsor -- and when nobody was taking them I took them "for the box." There was one red one but I couldn't get it.
Warhol, A. (1989). The Andy Warhol Diaries (P. Hackett, Ed.). Pg. 82. New York: Warner Books.
Pretty day. Cabbed downtown ($3.50) then walked to work. Richard Weisman and his little kids arrived and Margaret Trudeau was with them. She's really split up with her husband now so she lets herself be photographed with anybody, and I guess she's been dating Richard for a while. She was primping the kids' hair. I didn't have enough light bulbs though, and they fought over the teddy bear.
Cabbed to the Whitney ($2). Bob Rauschenberg blew me a kiss in the elevator and then later came over and said it was silly to blow a kiss so he kissed me. Jasper was drinking Jack Daniel's It was a small party, just for lenders, old people. I ran downstairs to get a catalogue and then I looked around to have Jasper sign it, but I couldn't find him so I had Rauschenberg sign it, and then I did find Jasper and he rubbed out Rauschenberg's signature and signed "To a Lender."
John Cage was there with Lois Long, de Antonio's first wife. Jack and Marion Javits were there, and Jack gave a speech. Robert Rosenblum was there, and he just got married. I guess it's another Nicky Weymouth-Kenny Jay Lane-type thing. He's from the gay old Henry Geldzahler crowd. Mrs. Irving who's the president of the museum whose mother is a Whitney was there. She lives down the street from me and I've asked her a few times if I could rent the garage space in her carriage house for the car. I want it so badly, but nothing ever happens. At the Whitney she said that she definitely would call me -- and I think it's because I ran into her husband going into the garage that morning.
When we sat down to dinner there were packages of Philip Morris cigarettes at each place -- they were the sponsor -- and when nobody was taking them I took them "for the box." There was one red one but I couldn't get it.
Warhol, A. (1989). The Andy Warhol Diaries (P. Hackett, Ed.). Pg. 82. New York: Warner Books.
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