For a little while, they were in love.
Excerpted fromGreat Demon Kings, by John Giorno.
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that they all resigned from the Janis Gallery in protest.
It was the Halloween that changed art history.
Everyone in the art world was there.
I stood in the very crowded gallery, a little dazed.
Experience it beyond concepts, in the very noisy room.
We walked up to Andy, and Wynn said, Id like to introduce a young poet, Giorno.
I took hold of Andys soft hand, which dangled from his wrist, and squeezed it.
We looked in each others eyes.
Something happened, a spark.
I dropped his hand.
I love the show, said Wynn.
Over the next few months, I ran into Andy at art openings, parties, and Happenings.
Sometimes I said hi to Andy, but there was almost no interaction.
John and I are going to see Yvonne Rainer at Judson Church, and we can all go together.
Oh, yes, said Andy.
I was surprised, as Andy and Wynn didnt really know each other.
Beforehand, Wynn was having this small dinner in his loft on the top floor of 222 Bowery.
He invited Bobo Keely, an Upper East Side friend, Andy, and me.
Wynn cooked a wonderful dinner of coq au vin.
We drank wine I more glasses than anyone, and Andy almost none and had a good time.
Andy and I were getting to know each other.
The four of us rushed to Judson for the 8:30 performance.
Yvonne danced her brilliant new work.
Andy and I sat next to each other, and it felt wonderful.
Afterward, saying good-bye, I said, Good night, its so great being with you.
We should get together?
What about tomorrow night?
Theres the premiere of Jack SmithsFlaming Creatures.
I was a little surprised at Andys enthusiasm.
It was already a cult classic.
But this was the premiere, as in Hollywood premiere, which excited Andy.
So, of course, I agreed.
Do you have a piece of paper?
Andy scribbled his number on a matchbook cover.
AT stood for Atwater.
The next night, Andy and I went to the midnight premiere at the Bleecker Street Cinema.
Andy was really interested in Jack Smith.
Jack was a genius and a mess, and always fucked everything up for himself.
Among them, Jack coined the term superstar.
The Judson Dance Theater happened every Wednesday night.
There were countless dance and music events.
Andy and I saw each other almost every night.
We spoke on the telephone every morning and made a plan.
There were so many things going on.
It was a sweet earthquake.
I said, Why dont you have two men kissing?
Andy turned slightly away and deemed it not worthy of an answer.
Why dont you have two guys kissing, but like Doris Day and Rock Hudson?
Andy was silent and scornful.
Andy said, Ewww!
A week later, I asked again, and Andy sighed, Oh, John!
which meant,Dont you get it?
Bob and Jasper came and looked at what I was doing, Andy recalled, and laughed at me.
They pointed their fingers and laughed.
They were so mean!
The old-guard Abstract Expressionists had been (and still were) notoriously homophobic.
Only straight guys, like themselves, were great painters.
Queers, like the friends of their fag-hag wives, were not eligible.
Against this, Andy was a gay man, undeniably swish, his work openly homoerotic.
In the 1950s, this was daring and heroic.
Andy got the message and realized that being a gay artist was the kiss of death.
Gay was a subculture, and a dead end; Andy wanted popular culture.
To access a large commercial audience, he got rid of the gay content.
In his most famous work, the homoerotic would be subverted and hidden.
That year, Jonas Mekas coined the term and invented the phenomenon called underground cinema.
Through word of mouth, everyone came.
Andy and I sawFlaming Creaturesat least 30 times.
These films had an enormous impact on Andy.
It was where he got the idea to make movies.
He saw what film was, what it could be.
He had rented a farmhouse for the summer.
Wynn cooked a wonderful dinner, and we drank lots of wine.
After dinner, Wynn served 140-proof black rum and I drank a lot.
We said good night at about two oclock.
Andy and I slept in a bedroom, in the same bed, but we didnt have sex.
My brain was fried by the rum.
I just dropped my clothes, fell naked onto the bed, and passed out.
I woke up about 4:30 to take a piss.
I went to the bathroom, bleary-eyed, and then back to bed.
I woke up two hours later, and Andy was still looking, his eyes open wide.
What are you doing?
I was still drunk, and confused.
I took another piss and went back to sleep.
I woke after a while and he was still doing it.
What are you doing?
I had a rubber tongue.
Watching you sleep, said Andy sweetly.
As it became lighter, I saw him more clearly.
Fifteen minutes later, I turned and he was looking at me with Bette Davis eyes.
I kissed him on the cheek.
Take off your shirt.
I tried to take it off and he giggled.
Andy was wearing limp Jockey underwear.
And take off your underwear.
His skin was very white and soft, and he had hairless, beautiful boys legs.
I was wet from sweating in my sleep, so there was no thought of cuddling.
I kept my eyes shut but knew he was still looking.
I woke two hours later and he wasnt next to me.
Why are you watching me?
Wouldnt you like to know!
It was not my problem that he wanted to look.
He was keeping himself up.
Sweat poured from my body.
When I woke up at 1:30, Andy was gone.
He was on amphetamines and had watched me sleep for eight hours.
That night, Andy got the idea for the movieSleep.
We went back to New York early on Monday afternoon.
At the crowded Old Lyme railroad station, we waited interminably for the delayed BostonNew York train.
Do you want to be the star?
Snuggling close, I pressed up against him like a cat.
What do I have to do?
I want to make a movie of you sleeping.
I was a bit surprised.
I can do it.
Im sure it’s possible for you to.
I want to be a movie star!
It was the American Dream.
I pronounced the words clearly with a downbeat.
I know you do!
I want to be like Marilyn Monroe.
She had committed suicide only nine months earlier, on August 5, 1962.
Andy had captured that in his first Marilyn paintings, done right after her death.
And I wanted that for myself.
I was drawn to her suicide and her stardom.
He examined the electrical outlets and figured out where he would set up the tripod.
I was sitting in a chair in the living room, and we were talking.
With both hands, he ran his fingers over my shoes.
I was talking and not paying attention.
All of a sudden, Andys face went down to the floor, and he was licking my shoes.
He pressed his cheek to the leather and licked with his little pink tongue.
There was Andy Warhol on his hands and knees, licking my Abercrombie & Fitch loafers.
He wiggled his tongue around and smelled.
My shoes were covered with saliva.
It was a turn-on.
I got some poppers to make it better, but Andy declined.
I took off my shoes and socks and Andy licked my feet and shrimped my toes.
It wasnt as erotic as it was deeply moving that he had allowed himself to do this.
His sad, timid little tongue went around each toe.
He seemed delicate and fragile.
Every once in a while, I went down and hugged him lovingly and kissed his face.
Andy was trembling, and his heart was beating a mile a minute.
He did not want to allow anything reciprocal; maybe it frightened him.
I decided to cum and put him out of his misery.
On July 4, Andy and I wentback up to Wynns Old Lyme farmhouse with Marisol and Bob Indiana.
Wynn was giving Eleanor Ward a birthday party.
Andy also brought along his new 16-mm.
By chance, Wynn had some color film.
So that weekend, Andy shot a lot in color, which he didnt normally do.
He used the film camera as if it were a still camera, which he knew how to use.
The day of the party was a hot, lazy day.
We were all bored and annoyed at having to prepare for Eleanors birthday.
Sunlight flickered red and white on my closed eyelids, which somehow made me high.
Andy was filming me from different angles.
I was very comfortable with him and didnt pay attention.
It was the one time that he could indulge himself with the pure pleasure of love.
He filmed inches from my skin.
He was making love to me with the camera while I slept!
We began shootingSleepWednesday, July 10.
We had just come from a screening at the Bleecker Street Cinema and a loft party downtown.
We stopped by Andys house and picked up the camera and lights.
We got to my place and began shooting about one oclock.
I was a little drunk and made myself a vodka-and-soda.
I took off my clothes, dropping them on the floor.
He was awkward and his hands trembled.
He had never done it before.
It was his first big film.
Okay, lets shoot!
I said.Andy paused, turned to me, and said, Are you ready for your close-up?
I gave him a big hug with my naked body and pressed my soft dick into his leg.
I liked sleeping more than anything else.
The movie was Andys problem.
I let my mind rest and fell asleep immediately.
Andy and the equipment were gone.
And I had a hangover.
Andy shot againtwo nights later, and then a handful more times over the next two weeks.
The process had an empty and caressing quality.
Andy was on speed, amphetamines, when he worked high and wide-awake.
In the dead of night, everything was crystal clear.
We started over again in August, shootingSleepfor another ten days.
We looked at the film on the hand-cranked movie viewer and the clacking 16-mm.
Oh, theyre so beautiful!
Everything Andy did was a great work of art.
There were thousands of rolls of film, and Andy didnt know what to do with them.
Every roll was from a slightly different camera angle or had a slightly different frame or light.
Andy duplicated some shots that he liked, and placed them after each other and in between other shots.
He was familiar with repetition from his paintings, but this repetition was out of necessity.
Andy couldnt figure out how to make the shots into a movie.
The film ended up being five-and-a-half-hours long, not eight.
Any more might have been too much.
Sleepwas a great triumph.
All of New York, uptown and downtown, came or had something to say about it.
Youre a star, said Andy.
You dont know what Ive done for you.
And I appreciate it, I said, laughing.
I told you I want to be Marilyn Monroe.
said Andy, laughing, and we leaned into each other.
Nobody had ever laid eyes on Andys mother.
He talked about her and was deeply attached to her, but she was a big secret.
She lived on the ground floor, in an apartment behind the kitchen.
Shes heard about you.
Shes heard you on the stairs coming in and out.
She heard us last night!
She just wants to meet you.
Andy took me down the back stairs in the darkness, where I had never been.
Let me put on the light.
His mother, Mrs. Warhola, unlocked and opened the door.
Ma, this is John.
Pleased to meet you!
I bowed slightly, warm and gracious as I could be.
Andys mother was an old woman.
She smiled and we laughed as we gazed at each other.
I am very happy to meet you.
Good to meet you.
She was filled with loving-kindness.
Andy and his mother talked about something in what I thought was Czech.
Listening to them talk, I realized this was a very important moment.
Andy introducing me to his mother was a statement, an affirmation that we were lovers.
I was thrilled that it was really true.
Then I said to myself,Stop thinking stupid thoughts and just be in the moment.
Youre a good boy, she said with an accent, smiling.
On Christmas Eveof 1963, I stopped by Andys house.
I have some Christmas presents for you.
We are not exchanging gifts, but youve given me so much, I want to give you something.
Winter solstice, New Year offerings.
I had three presents for Andy, all wrapped in colored paper.
The first was a pair of fine black leather gloves from Brooks Brothers.
When broken in, theyll go well with your black chinos.
Ohhh, theyre so … , said Andy, caressing them with his delicate fingers.
The third present, wrapped in white tissue paper, was a gold wedding ring.
There was a pawnshop next door to 222 Bowery, one of the last surviving ones on the street.
In the window, on a blue velvet tray, were 20 or 30 old gold mens wedding rings.
They always caught my eye as I went to visit Wynn.
For a Christmas present, I bought one for Andy.
A thick, rich, glowing yellow-gold wedding band.
Im not asking you to marry me.
I think its a really sexy gift.
Its so large, he must have had a big dick.
I wondered if I hadnt made a mistake.
A dead mans wedding ring or a failed marriage, but it was too late to take back.
Its so strong and sexy!
Did you get one for yourself?
Guys dont wear wedding bands!
We hugged and kissed.
We should make another movie,I started saying to Andy afterSleep.
Yes, said Andy, laughing.
Time passed, and I said, When are we going to make another movie?
Finally, in early 1964, he said, Lets do anotherScreen Test.
I half-thought he said it to shut me up.
We had shot the firstScreen Testin June 1963 and would shoot the second in March 1964.
But it wasnt enough.
I want to be a movie star.
You are a movie star!
I did not give up.
Andy, when are we going to make a movie?
There are so many ideas … What should we do?
… How aboutBlow Job?
I thought so, said Andy.
You know what it looks like.
A tight head shot of your face, while you jerk off and cum.
Its Elizabeth Taylor inCleopatra.
It was my role.
Time passed, and nothing happened.
Andy had just rented a loft on East 47th Street, the first Factory.
I met Andy at three oclock on a bleak, freezing-cold Saturday afternoon in early February.
The Factory was dismal.
Where are we going to do it?
We walked to the rear of the loft.
There was a toilet, old and dirty, paint peeling off the walls, and graffiti.
Andy, this looks gorgeous!
It looks like a subway toilet.
Oh, I know!
said Andy, very pleased.
He set up the camera and lights.
I smoked a joint and a cigarette and we talked.
He crouched down on his knees on the dirty concrete floor and sucked.
I relaxed affectionately, to make it easy for him, and I put my hand behind his head.
But it turned out hed run out of film and had just been shooting blanks.
You looked so great.
It augured bad things.
In April,Andy madeBlow Jobstarring somebody else.
I was deeply offended.
How could he have done that?
It was going to be my starring role, and he gave it to somebody else.
I was devastated and furious but did not let it show.
That fall, Andy and I were supposed to meet at Castellis for a Roy Lichtenstein landscape show.
When I got there, Andy had already left.
Andy was tired of me.
And the new Factory was full of new people pushing their way in front of the camera.
Edie Sedgwick was center stage, and I was last years news.
On November 21, Andy Warhols show ofFlowerpaintings opened at the Leo Castelli Gallery.
It was a well-calculated, political decision suggested and advised by Henry Geldzahler, a big move up.
TheFlowerpaintings were Pop Art at its most pure.
Brilliantly conceived, it was a popular image, which could be reproduced endlessly.
That night, I had arrived at Castelli alone.
Andy and I no longer went out together.
He stopped answering my phone calls and didnt call back.
I wasnt told about parties.
And when I saw him, he acted like nothing had happened.
I was his first superstar, and I was the first one he got rid of.
Over the years, later superstars complained endlessly about Andy exploiting and getting rid of them.
They spoke of his cruelty, his sadism.
This was possibly true, as Andy was only human.
It also might have been the result of the amphetamines.
But at the time, I had no context.
I couldnt understand why it was happening, and I felt only suffering and pain.
On September 25, 1965, Andy gave a party for John Ashbery at the 47th Street Factory.
The literary and art worlds anticipated it for a week, but I wasnt invited and I was devastated.
Everyone was there and talked about it endlessly afterward.
Because I was a poet, it was a double insult.
I told Gerard to invite you.
I never called Andy again, not for years.
I allowed my anger to blossom into big changes.
Andy was dead for me.
Giorno died at the age of 82 last October, weeks after submitting his memoirs for publication.
Excerpted fromGreat Demon Kings, by John Giorno.
Copyright 2020 by Giorno Poetry Systems Institute Inc.
Published by arrangement with Farrar, Straus and Giroux.
