Bash Compactor: Black & Blue and Red All Over

Freaks and club kids are art. That’s the whole point. They wear it, they perform it, but can they draw? And I’m not just talking about pretty pictures. That was my question.

I was invited to the opening of the Manifesto Group Art Show at Arena Studios last Saturday by Aaron Edwards, photographer and House of Collection mistress. He’s prone to wearing huge paper eyelashes and a long trailing dress on special occasions. He’s plugged into the scene and his art star friends were putting on the show. They’re the people you see out on the town dressed up as light bulbs or clowns, robots, stop signs or whack astronauts at the more interesting clubs downtown or in Brooklyn. Kenny Scharf, the East Village 1980s pop artist known for his Flintstones-Jetson imagery, was the big name in the group, and most of the others had colorful names, if not fame—like Rainbow Blight and Soigne Deluxe, Tabboo, Ms. Pac-Mondrian and Hysterical Hoop. Then there was Muffinhead, master of incredible theme costumes for him and his wife, burlesque artist Amber Ray. His cartoon-like brightly colored painting resembles his own tragi-comic clown-like look. He calls it, "I Find Your Massive Authority Crisis Absolutely Abysmal..."

And themes of authority were all over the place at Arena studios since it just so happens to be a “dungeon.” While perusing the artwork at Arena, you can try out some amusing props. How about a baton, a gag, leashes, collars, ropes, paddles or some medieval torture devices? Arena Studios has ‘em. And what do you think they mean by “medical and dental” fetishes?

Hysterical Hoop, a man with bulging eyes and big eyeglasses gave me a yellow piece of paper with an invitation to a Liberace party. What a shame I’ll be out of town. Dressing up as the late great Liberace has been a life long dream. People I’d seen at other parties and clubs came up and embraced me. “I know you,” The Baroness exclaimed, wearing a tight pink leather skirt and a black corset that showed off her cleavage. Then Guy, a beefy fifty-something, came over. “We’re having a big party I want you to come to. It’s a recreation of the Hellfire Club, the S&M fetish dungeon that was in the Meatpacking District before it became trendy. Remember that place?“ he asked, looking me up and down. My exes kept me locked up at night, but it was a dungeon of the mind, so no, I’d never been.

Me and my posse just missed Darrell Thorne and Rob Roth’s performance installation but it looked like something rather heavy duty, judging by Roth’s face blackened like a horse and his ass bare except for the horse tail dangling from his jockstrap. I took a few close up pics from below. Michael Musto was standing with Roth in front of a photograph of a hooded man by Lucien Samaha. I had the most fun with the club creatures Zazoo and Satori, a whimsical duo who had tutti-frutti starburst-painted faces with an explosion of dayglo foam hair. They just moved to New York City from Cincinnati. Things were a bit livelier in New York, they said. I meant to spend more time looking at the art, but I loved the costumes so much, I barely looked at the walls.