Stephen Koch

  • 1987: Andy Warhol, 1928–1987

    I KNOW I HEARD about Andy’s death before it hit the papers, so it must have been sometime late that Sunday, February 22, 1987. I was on the telephone with Peter Hujar, meandering through some extended schmooze, undoubtedly about him having AIDS and/or me being in love, when Peter said, offhandedly, “By the way, Andy Warhol died.”

    Just like that. It’s Peter’s timing I recall. A little like “PS: Your cat is dead.” Yet I assure you Hujar did not give the news of Andy’s death the backseat out of indifference. Peter was taut with emotion over it. His offhand tone was more typical of the dire deliberateness

  • Performance, A Conversation

    DRAMATIS PERSONAE

    TRISHA BROWN: Choreographer and dancer

    ROBERT DUNN: Composer, teacher, and choreographer

    RICHARD FOREMAN: Playwright

    YVONNE RAINER: Choreographer, dancer, and film maker

    DANIEL IRA SVERDLIK: Dancer, member of the company of Meredith Monk

    TWYLA THARP: Choreographer and dancer

    THIS TAPED DISCUSSION IS NOT so much momentous as unprecedented. The artists who gathered at my house in late September spoke as peers who have from time to time given one another the most scrupulous attention, but often at the very wide distance of their differences. Through the evening, I sensed a certain

  • “The Chelsea Girls”

    IN 1966, ANDY WARHOL’S latest movie left the Film-Makers Cinémathèque to open in a “real” movie theater—the Regency at 72nd Street and Broadway—and the time had come at last, it was all up there in lights on the big marquee:

    ANDY WARHOL’S

    THE CHELSEA GIRLS

    But though The Chelsea Girls was Warhol’s first strong step in his drive toward the big world of the feature film’s public—a drive which has grown more and more pronounced with each of his films since Flesh—it remains an experimental work, still tugging at the limits of the spectators’ perceptions, still operating within a certain modernist