Note: Article and select photographs originally appear in issue no. 2 of Lid Magazine, 2004. Originally posted [on the internet] October 20, 2004.

New York is a city draped in Warhol legacy. The lengthy chronology of meetings, parties, gallery exhibits, and film screenings reads as a chapter in a definitive “History Of What’s Important In Art,” indelibly touching on specific, individual facets of the city. I had been asked to write an article of Warhol relevance and to me there was no other option: I would recollect a small portion of Andy Warhol’s New York. I would recollect The Factory in its various stages, its respective locales, their significance then and their uses today. I would visit Max’s Kansas City and I would seek out Andy’s townhouse on the Upper East Side. Ultimately, in the process, I would be seeking out among the most important unlabeled historical landmarks New York has to offer.

The Factory first began in 1964 on the fifth floor of a building residing at 231 East 47th Street beneath an antiques store called The Connoisseur’s Corner. Photographer Billy Name, who had moved into The Factory soon after its opening, was inspired by the ongoing Mid-Hudson Bridge beautification process and decided to paint The Factory using the same industrial aluminum paint that had been used on the bridge yielding the infamous silver Factory interior.

During the first Factory era, we saw Warhol at his most prolific — the Factory had output some five hundred films including “Blowjob,” “Screen Test No. 2,” and “Vinyl” (starring Edie Sedgwick) in addition to Warhol’s already staggering roster of paintings. It was during this time that Warhol began silk-screening plywood boxes in the fashion of Brillo Boxes, mesmerized by the repetitive aesthetic of supermarket shelves. While in Europe, Warhol announced that he would be retiring from painting to continue his career as a filmmaker. He sought a band to manage for a night club which he had been asked to host and he found Lou Reed and The Velvet Underground. A month later, in December of 1965, Mickey Ruskin opened the legendary Union Square staple Max’s Kansas City. More film success for Warhol came with “Chelsea Girls,” arguably his most classic film. The productive period of the first Factory came to a halt when an eviction notice was delivered to Warhol indicating that the building would be torn down; by this time, director Paul Morrissey had begun work on the loft at 33 Union Square West, the site that would become the second Factory location.

Today, on the sixth floor of 33 Union Square West, light is streaming out from the three sets of windows. On the ground floor is a heavily trafficked wine and spirits store. I had walked past the address countless times without regard and was now looking at it with a sense of awe in the realization of its historical significance.

While the second Factory is most remembered for Valerie Solanas’ assumed-fatal 1968 shooting of Andy Warhol, an event that hospitalized Warhol for nearly two months, Warhol here conceived of the celebrity portraits series that would become the bread and butter of his career. Paul Morrissey, while Warhol was under hospital care, filmed “Flesh” across the span of two weekends for a sum of $4,000; upon Warhol’s release from hospitalization, Andy filmed the aptly-titled “Fuck,” later renamed to “Blue Movie” to avoid the censors. In addition to the creation of Interview Magazine, Warhol soon after opened a cinema on East 4th Street in the Fortune Theater that would play “Blue Movie” and other art films of the time.

By this point, Max’s Kansas City, residing on Park Avenue between 17th and 18th Streets, had become a veritable staple in the life of Andy Warhol, The Factory denizens, and a large constituency of the New York arts community. In 1970, The Velvet Underground became the first band to perform live at Max’s, a show that was released as “Live at Max’s Kansas City” on Atlantic Records later that year. In the present day, walking down Park Avenue and comparing what I was seeing to my notes, I had realized that what was once the legendary Max’s had now found the most depressing of fates — that of a CVS Pharmacy.

In 1974, Warhol purchased a six-story townhouse at 57 East 66th Street for $310,000. Warhol apparently found the concept of mortgage unnerving and insisted on paying the amount upfront. The townhouse — which at the time was so overfilled with his personal collections of cookie jars, 19th century American furniture, folk art, and flea market discoveries that he had to live confined to two out of the thirty rooms — still stands to this day and is marked with a plaque indicating that it was the home of “famous pop artist Andy Warhol.” In 1988, the Warhol Estate auctioned off some 10,000 items from the incredibly diverse collection, fetching a reported $30 million dollars. The auction was the single largest collection ever handled by Sotheby’s.

The Factory moved for a third time in late 1974 — this time to a location kitty-corner from the second Factory on Union Square West to 860 Broadway, above the present day home of a Petco Pet Supplies store. Following the departure of several critical members of the earlier Factory eras, including Gerard Malanga, Paul Morrissey, and Joe Dallesandro, Warhol’s Factory had now become a veritable enterprise (Andy Warhol Enterprises or “AWE”) — with Warhol serving as Chairman — while many of the Warhol Superstars faced rehabilitation or the prospect of “moving home and settling down.” It was during this time that Jean Michel Basquiat began his well-documented collaborations with Warhol, a relationship that would eventually, in 1996, be depicted in a major motion picture.

1984 saw camouflage silk-screens and the final location of The Factory, an old Con-Edison substation at 158 Madison Avenue between 32nd and 33rd Streets. Warhol had reportedly at this time owned a total of five properties in New York, one of which on Great Jones Street was being rented by Basquiat. Today the fourth Factory is vacant, sandwiched between two office buildings, with the Empire State Building looming over the rooftops as a poignant icon reminiscent of Warhol’s film “Empire.” On February 22, 1987, Warhol died from an unexpected heart attack following a successful gall bladder operation. He was 58.

In the sixteen years since, things have changed. The Factory locations — the buildings that were once a part of the vibrant New York art scene and a remarkable legacy — have been torn down or renovated, re-zoned, leases re-signed several times over. To me, however, the semblance still remains. The indelible mark of Andy Warhol, a true testament to the strength of the same legacy which I praise again and again, is still there for anyone with the desire to seek it out.