Dash Snow
I’m not an artist. Maybe on the inside...but to say I’ve accomplished anything of artistic value would be a lie. I do have dreams though. And ideas. But for now that’s all they are...
Now, as you might have guessed from the miniscule list of links on the right side of this page, I likes what I likes and don’t stray too far from that center point. I’ll poke my head out the car window to look, but ultimately I’m the guy who stays in the car when it comes to my comfort zone. New York Magazine is one of my favourite, if not my favourite, website. I get a taste of what its really like to live in the coolest city on Earth, without the dread I'd really feel if I actually lived there. The city is too much for me, and New York is THE city...so I wager it'd eat me for breakfast and shit me out by lunch! I get an American point of view that isn't CNN or USA Today (thank God), in the form (the written word) that I prefer, from a host of intelligent, critical thinking New Yorkers who really love their city. And they cover Art and Culture better than almost anywhere else.
Which is how I came to know Dash Snow. His story is pretty art cliché. And maybe he was just another manufactured, trust fund art phenom used to prop up the New York Art scene during a boring spell back in 2007. Hell, I wasn't even a fan of most of his 'stuff'...just a few pictures. But I always thought there was something there. When New York Magazine did a piece on him a couple of years ago, it was like 'how can this guy not turn into a star?' Sure it was a puff piece, and the people he was hanging around seemed like real slimeballs, but I took a liking to Dash anyway. I felt like I could relate in some strange, sad way to what this guy was doing, even though I knew virtually nothing about him…and from what I did know, we probably had little to nothing in common. Well, maybe we had a little in common...but he seemed like the kind of guy I wouldn't be friends with.
But despite all that, something clicked. Maybe he was living the life I always wanted to live but was too chicken to. Wild and crazy. Tons of bad drugs. No limits. I'm the chicken who gets half way across the road and then goes back. Again and again. He wasn't. Even if he was a rich kid. Maybe I just thought he was cool. He looked cool. Whatever it was, I stayed interested. Kept my eyes open for more Dash sightings. Kept coming back. I've posted a few of his polaroids on my blog in the time since that first article.
Then today I take a trip to NY Magazine after a crazy week on the homefront and see his name again. Dash Snow piece pulled from an exhibit. Interesting. I clicked the link and read on.
Died on Monday. 27. Heroin OD. Young Daughter. And so on...
And so it goes...
1981-2009
Now, as you might have guessed from the miniscule list of links on the right side of this page, I likes what I likes and don’t stray too far from that center point. I’ll poke my head out the car window to look, but ultimately I’m the guy who stays in the car when it comes to my comfort zone. New York Magazine is one of my favourite, if not my favourite, website. I get a taste of what its really like to live in the coolest city on Earth, without the dread I'd really feel if I actually lived there. The city is too much for me, and New York is THE city...so I wager it'd eat me for breakfast and shit me out by lunch! I get an American point of view that isn't CNN or USA Today (thank God), in the form (the written word) that I prefer, from a host of intelligent, critical thinking New Yorkers who really love their city. And they cover Art and Culture better than almost anywhere else.
Which is how I came to know Dash Snow. His story is pretty art cliché. And maybe he was just another manufactured, trust fund art phenom used to prop up the New York Art scene during a boring spell back in 2007. Hell, I wasn't even a fan of most of his 'stuff'...just a few pictures. But I always thought there was something there. When New York Magazine did a piece on him a couple of years ago, it was like 'how can this guy not turn into a star?' Sure it was a puff piece, and the people he was hanging around seemed like real slimeballs, but I took a liking to Dash anyway. I felt like I could relate in some strange, sad way to what this guy was doing, even though I knew virtually nothing about him…and from what I did know, we probably had little to nothing in common. Well, maybe we had a little in common...but he seemed like the kind of guy I wouldn't be friends with.
But despite all that, something clicked. Maybe he was living the life I always wanted to live but was too chicken to. Wild and crazy. Tons of bad drugs. No limits. I'm the chicken who gets half way across the road and then goes back. Again and again. He wasn't. Even if he was a rich kid. Maybe I just thought he was cool. He looked cool. Whatever it was, I stayed interested. Kept my eyes open for more Dash sightings. Kept coming back. I've posted a few of his polaroids on my blog in the time since that first article.
Then today I take a trip to NY Magazine after a crazy week on the homefront and see his name again. Dash Snow piece pulled from an exhibit. Interesting. I clicked the link and read on.
Died on Monday. 27. Heroin OD. Young Daughter. And so on...
And so it goes...
1981-2009
posted by neil at 7:02 PM
1 Comments:
Heroine always takes the brightest stars. Shame. Didn't know his work, but you make a strong case.
Post a Comment
<< Home