Keith Haring - Editions & Works on Paper New York Tuesday, April 19, 2022 | Phillips

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  • Plate one

    Last act, the End, this is where we all came in. The final  
    Apocalypse is when everyman sees what he sees, feels what he feels, 
    hears what he hears. The creatures of all your dreams and nightmares  
    are right here, right now, solid as they ever were or ever will be, 
    electric vitality of careening subways faster faster faster stations 
    flash by in a blur. 

    Pan. God of Panic, whips screaming crowds, as millions of faces  
    look up at the torn sky: 


    Plate two 

    The planet is pulling loose from the moorings, careening into  
    space, spilling cities and mountains and seas into the Void, 
    spinning faster and faster as days and nights flash by like subway  
    stations. Iron penis chimneys ejaculate blue sparks in a reek of 
    ozone, tunnels crunch down teeth of concrete and steel, flattening  
    cars like beer cans. Graffiti eats through glass and steel like acid, 
    races across the sky in tornados of flaming colors.  


    Plate three 

    Cherry-pickers with satin brushes big as a door inch through  
    Wall Street, leaving a vast souvenir postcard of the Grand Canyon. 
    Water trucks slosh out paint, outlaw painters armed with paint 
    pistols paint everything and everyone in reach. Survival Artists, 
    paint cans strapped to their backs, grenades at their belts, paint 
    anything and anybody within range. Skywriters dogfight, collide  
    and explode in paint. Telephone poles dance electric jigs in swirling,  
    crackling wires. Neon explosions and tornados flash through 
    ruined cities, volcanoes spew molten colors as the earth’s crust 
    buckles and splinters into jigsaw pieces  


    Plate four

    The household appliances revolt: washing machines snatch clothes 
    from the guests, bellowing Hoovers suck off makeup and wigs and 
    false teeth, electric toothbrushes leap into screaming mouths, 
    clothes dryers turn gardens into dust bowls, garden tools whiz 
    through lawn parties, impaling the guests, who are hacked to 
    fertilizer by industrious Japanese hatchets. Loathsome, misshapen, 
    bulbous plants spring from their bones, covering golf courses, 
    swimming pools, country clubs and tasteful dwellings 

    Plate five

    Skyscrapers scrape rents of blue and white paint from the sky, 
    shredding, peeling, nitrous ochres and red eat through bridges, 
    which fall into the rivers splashing color across . my back I always 
    hear . piers, streets AMOK art . Hurry up please, it's time 
    . floods inorganic molds . Time's winged chariot hurrying 
    . stirring passion of . near. Closing time , gentlemen . metal and 
    glass steel . these our actors as I foretold you . girders writhe . 
    actors frantically packing in theatrical . mineral lust . hotels... are  
    all spirits. 

    Plate six 

    Oh don’t bother . burst from concrete . with all that junk, 
    John . were all sprits, John . covers . the Director is on stage 
    and are melted into . walls . air and you what that means in 
    show business . of glass. melt into thin air. Hurry up please, its 
    time. Caught . burn . In New York beneath the animals of the  
    village . with madness . the Piper pulled down the sky. This 
    insub . billion crazed . stantial pageant faded leaves not a. roads 
    buck . wrack behind. Closing time, hurry . sidewalks run ahead 
    . up it's time. 


    Plate seven  

    At my back . faster and faster . I always hear hurry up . 
    energy ground down into . please, it's time closing . sidewalks and 
    streets by billions of feet and tires erupts from manholes and 
    tunnels break out with volcanic force let it come down careening 
    subways faster and faster stations blur by, Pan whips screaming 
    crowds with flaming pipes millions of faces look up at the torn 
    sky OFF THE TRACK OFF THE TRACK the planet is  
    pulling loose from its moorings, careening off into space spilling 
    cities and mountains and seas into the Void faster and faster.  


    Plate eight 

    This is where we all came in blue and white paint from when  
    Everyman sees color nightmares are right here warehouse and piers 
    electric energy floods inorganic molds subways faster and faster, 
    glass steel girders Pan God of Panic whips screaming concrete, faces  
    look up at the torn sky and burn with madness. TRACK the planet 
    is pulling bucking cars and trucks careening into space faster and 
    faster into the Void spinning walks and streets flash by like subway  
    stations in a reek of ozone. 

    Plate nine  

    Force let it come, skyscrapers scrape rents of the final Apocalypse 
    in the sky, dream rivers splashing color across solid roads and  
    buildings, AMOK art vitality stirring passions of metal blur by 
    writhing in mineral lusts, walls of glass melt OFF THE TRACK  
    OFF a billion crazed eyes, the sidewalks run feet and tires, chimneys 
    ejaculate blue tunnels break out graffiti village pulled across the sky  
    in flaming colors. 


    Plate ten  

    Skyscrapers scrape rents of blue and white paint from the sky, 
    the rivers swirl with color, nitrous ochres and reds eats through 
    the bridges, falling into the rivers, splashing color across 
    warehouses and piers and roads and buildings, AMOK art 
    floods inorganic molds, string passions of metal and glass, steel  
    girders writhing in mineral lusts burst from their concrete covers, 
    walls of glass melt and burn with madness in a billion crazed 
    eyes, bridges buck cars and trucks into the rivers, the sidewalks  
    run ahead faster and faster, energy ground down into sidewalks 
    and streets by billions of feet and tires erupt from manholes and 
    tunnels, breaks out with volcanic force:  


    Caught in New York beneath the animals of the village, the  
    Piper pulled down the sky. 
    Poem from “Apocalypse” written by William Burroughs  

    • Provenance

      Private California Collection

    • Literature

      Klaus Littmann pp. 98-109

    • Artist Biography

      Keith Haring

      American • 1958 - 1990

      Haring's art and life typified youthful exuberance and fearlessness. While seemingly playful and transparent, Haring dealt with weighty subjects such as death, sex and war, enabling subtle and multiple interpretations. 

      Throughout his tragically brief career, Haring refined a visual language of symbols, which he called icons, the origins of which began with his trademark linear style scrawled in white chalk on the black unused advertising spaces in subway stations. Haring developed and disseminated these icons far and wide, in his vibrant and dynamic style, from public murals and paintings to t-shirts and Swatch watches. His art bridged high and low, erasing the distinctions between rarefied art, political activism and popular culture. 

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Apocalypse Suite (L. pp. 98-109)

The complete set of 10 screenprints in colors, on Museum Board, with accompanying text by William Burroughs screenprinted on acetate, the full sheets.
all S. 38 x 38 in. (96.5 x 96.5 cm)
All signed, dated and numbered 4/90 in pencil (there were also 20 artist's proofs and 5 hors commerce sets), published by George Mulder Fine Arts, New York (with the artist and publisher's copyright inkstamps on the reverse), all unframed.

Full Cataloguing

$100,000 - 150,000 

Sold for $151,200

Contact Specialist

212 940 1220

Editions & Works on Paper

New York Auction 19 - 21 April 2022