Tales of Horror from the 80s

Let's rewind to 1985 or so. I was heading up the Pharmaceutical Division of a small public relations agency of 20 or so people. It was fun. They even let me fly the Concord once.

Really? How was it?
Celestial.

Agencies being agencies, from about 1985 to about 1990, of the ten or twelve men who worked there, eight or nine of them died of AIDS. I can promise you, it was a harrowing experience. Eventually the place folded up like a house of cards, I left to found Mammoth Communications, which, with the help of my buddy Rich, later turned into the Mammoth Group. The rest, as they say, is either history or filler, depending on your cliche of choice.

Now fast-forward to yesterday, when I decided to enter a 4"x6" postcard (I'm not used to working this small--my forehead is still in knots) in one of those fundraisers where you don't know who the artist is until you buy the postcard ($85--what an odd choice for a price-point) and turn it over. The hope is that yours is a Jasper Johns. Or, in my particular case, a Lisa Yuskavage--my current object of affection (the work, not the woman).



The above by Yuskavage. Her recent show at David Zwirner was, like flying the Concord, celestial.

I entered this:



The charity, just to bring things full circle, is an organization called Visual AIDS. Come see the entire collection and buy one. The event is called Postcards from the Edge and I'm not sure exactly where it is (Cheim and Read, 547 W 25th, maybe), but I'm sure somebody will tell me prior to the party.