Andy Warhol, Skulls (detail), 1976. Editions & Works on Paper, New York.
In an extraordinary occurrence, the complete Andy Warhol portfolios Skulls, Grapes, Flowers, Camouflage, and Flash – November 22, 1963 come to auction at Phillips’ Editions & Works on Paper auction this 24–26 October. The occasion marks the highest number of complete Warhol sets to appear at a single Phillips Editions auction and inspires a dream of a party at Warhol’s studio, complete with ghosts, tasty treats, copious punch, and fabulous guests.
This fall season, discover these remarkable portfolios and the other works mentioned in the story at 432 Park Avenue — on view 17–24 October.
Get Ready with Andy
Andy Warhol, Skulls, 1976. Editions & Works on Paper, New York.
Andy wonders what else could be needed than the Skulls as he paces the industrial rooms of The Factory, where the complete portfolio has been hung. Behind every mask, a face; behind every face, a skull … but behind these Skulls, Andy Warhol gripes, is bad wall lighting. He’s going to need some candelabras to set the mood. A scene beseen by squint’d eyes doth drive in shallow depth, to quote a Shakespeare line he just made up to give the issue a little romance. He’s also been working for days on a set of jack-o-lanterns carved to cast the shadow of logos and ads from Brillo to Pepsi to Chanel No. 5 and Volkswagen. It’s a fun yet unnerving and mysterious vision of consumerism, and he’s delighted.
Andy Warhol, Flowers, 1970. Editions & Works on Paper, New York.
Andy also decides to hang the complete Flowers and Camouflage portfolios interspersed between the Skulls in the main room. The flowers add a touch of contradiction and lighten the mood. After all, Halloween parties are as much about life than they are about death and isn’t the sight of a flower’s temporary bloom as much a symbol of death as a skull? He also finds the ominous undertones of camouflage, and its promise of deception, to particularly suit the atmosphere of costumed revelry. He begins to wonder what his guests will wear. He doesn’t want to guess, of course, and ruin any surprises, but he can’t help but wonder if anyone will dress as, well, him. Should he pick out a few backup wigs, just in case?
Andy Warhol, Camouflage, 1987. Editions & Works on Paper, New York.
Yet, Andy is most excited about an idea he had just that morning — hanging the complete Flash - November 22, 1963 portfolio in a room of its own, with nothing else other than seating mats and candles, so that his most daring guests can perform a J.F.K. séance.
Andy Warhol, Flash - November 22, 1963, 1968. Editions & Works on Paper, New York.
Andy scans the rooms. Everything finally feels ready. Just then the buzzer sounds. He checks his Cartier Tank — a quarter past nine.
“45 minutes early?” he thinks aloud.
Trick or Treat
Andy Warhol, Grapes, 1979. Editions & Works on Paper, New York.
Over the next 20 minutes, Wayne Thiebaud, Claes Oldenburg (was he even invited?), and Donald Baechler stream out the elevator one after the other, beaming like children and carrying chocolates, suckers, cones, sundaes, cake, cherries and candy apples. At least they brought treats. Andy enlists them to help him place their treats and clusters of grapes around bowls of blood-red punch (White Rum, Sour Mix, Grenadine, and Club Soda, with a rum float).
Left: Andy Warhol, Mick Jagger, 1975. Right: Andy Warhol, Albert Einstein, from Ten Portraits of Jews of the Twentieth Century, 1980. Editions & Works on Paper, New York.
An hour later, the party is in full swing, and the guests and their costumes are fabulous. A quick scan of the room sees Uncle Sam as Popeye and Mick Jagger in a sharp black-tie affair by Edward Sexton, his neckwear rakishly untied. He’s explaining to everyone that he’s just come from a charity dinner. Andy doesn’t believe him but perhaps Bianca’s got him cleaning up his act. There’s a rather odd guest nobody recognizes who seems a bit paranoid, always looking over his shoulder. His lower face is masked and he’s carrying a red balloon. A shy Albert Einstein is liberally helping himself to punch, dressed as the farmer man from American Gothic, complete with pitchfork. Marilyn — in a stunningly bold move — is dressed in Jackie’s iconic pink suit. James Dean carries a skull as Hamlet, but Chairman Mao is himself. Muhammed Ali is dressed as a knight and Mickey Mouse is absolutely slaying in drag. Two more stunning drag queens show up, look around, and think what’s the big deal.
Left: Damien Hirst, Mickey (Blue Glitter), 2016. Right: Andy Warhol, Mao (F. & S. 97), 1972. Editions & Works on Paper, New York.
As the crowd parties on, things get briefly dramatic when Marilyn enters the J.F.K. séance and immediately becomes distraught (Andy really did try to stop her). Uncle Sam consoles her and the pair were later seen entering a cab together by David Bowie and Mick Ronson, who spent nearly the entire evening outside smoking because they’re so cool.
Left: Andy Warhol, Uncle Sam, from Myths, 1981. Right: Andy Warhol, Marilyn Monroe (Marilyn), 1978–1979. Editions & Works on Paper, New York.
When the dust settles, James Dean is attempting to flirt with two glamorous ladies on a sofa in the corner. Near them, an increasingly incoherent Einstein is getting berated by a Nara Girl over the whole bomb thing.
Left: Yoshitomo Nara, My Little Treasure, 2010. Right: After Jean-Michel Basquiat, Flexible, 1984/2016. Editions & Works on Paper, New York.
At 12:22 am Jean-Michel Basquiat arrives fashionably late with Madonna dressed as the Virgin Mary. Andy takes polaroids as Madonna and Mick Jagger make vague plans to collaborate over some punch. There’s a disruption a bit later on, when Einstein — at this point struggling to walk straight — opens a door he thinks is the bathroom only to find a young woman rather enjoying some seafood. After reprimanding Einstein for being a creep, she gathers herself, adjusts her lipstick in the bathroom, grabs a coke, and heads to another party with David Hockney’s mom.
There’s much gossip about the identity of that one paranoid guest that nobody recognized. A typsy partier can’t remember his name but swears he’s seen him somewhere before. He cycles through a bunch of wrong names before getting to Banksy, but by then he’s already gone.
Left: Andy Warhol, Muhammad Ali, 1978. Right: Andy Warhol, Rebel Without a Cause (James Dean), from Ads, 1985. Editions & Works on Paper, New York.
As the crowd winds down, somehow Claes Oldenburg is still there, by now talking with Muhammad Ali and Mao about the convoluted way that Volkswagen sort of owns Porsche, but really Porsche is owned by the holding company that owns both companies. This idea is making Mao furious. At the same time, Mick Jagger is going on about his charity efforts to the two glamorous ladies since James Dean received an urgent call from his uncle and had to leave. Andy can feel the party dying down and he’s exhausted.
“Hang out as long as you want,” Andy tells the remaining crowd before heading to bed.
Andy Warhol, Flash - November 22, 1963 (detail), 1968. Editions & Works on Paper, New York.
Much later, Andy awakes to a mysterious low rumbling sound coming from the other room. Perhaps the ghost of J.F.K.? Andy walks out slowly, the floor creaking eerily beneath him, grabs a candle, and raises it to his face.
“H-h-hello?” he asks the room, his voice shaking.
No answer.
Relieved, Andy looks around and checks his watch in the candlelight. It’s 8:06 am and everyone has left except for Einstein, who is snoring helplessly on the couch. Andy sets down the candle, brings Einstein a blanket, puts on a pot of Martinson’s, and opens a can of soup. Later, he will look through the guestbook to recall the raucous evening and discover the final name inscribed in dark purple ink: “J.F.K.”
Andy Warhol, Flash - November 22, 1963 (detail), 1968. Editions & Works on Paper, New York.
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