CRog

“And after the drugs, the sex, the squats, the art, the casual stance toward hygiene and formality…How long does someone have to live their life before they fully possess it?”

the new york times article with more info on Dash

Daddy Dash

I heard the news of Dash’s death yesterday, and since then slowly, the news is sinking deeper and deeper into my heart.

His estranged wife Agathe and I met probably at Gavin Brown’s Passerby one night when Eric D was DJing, and then we were friends. She loved dancing on the bar. She’d hang her head heavily from the neck and her arms fell loosely from their sockets. She would dance, flopping about like a sad rag doll. At some point I joined her up there and the two of us made a weekly tradition of entertaining the always packed, tiny bar from above.

I knew who Dash was. I first met him on the corner in front of Charlie Parker’s old place across from the East Village park. We passed each other and he nodded to my boyfriend a surprising  look.

He struck me in those seconds as someone interesting. I asked who was that? And he said, oh some rich boy writer, or something dismissive to that effect, even though they were friends and he loved him.

It wasn’t until two years later that I found myself with Agathe and Dash eating chips and guac on a Rivington sidewalk. It was the first time I saw him in daylight. It was the first time we really talked. He was charming, and for the first time I saw how truly beautiful he was.

His death has fueled the already heated discussion of did or did not Dash deserve the recognition he had in recent years. He began turning up in fashion magazines’ editorial and party pages. He started to become a household name to those into it.

Those who had no encounters with Dash, the question of was or wasn’t he a worth while artist is a natural and obvious debate, but its painful to witness from both angles.

To those “for Dash Snow”: be careful of your inclination to idolize.

To those “against Dash Snow”: be mindful of your criticism.  A fine pedigree does not imply a fine life.

The New York Mag article entitled, “Chasing Dash Snow” is now more appropriate then ever. Who was this man/boy who garnered so much attention?

Dash at Stamina 2005

Most of what I know of Dash comes from Agathe and what I saw of him from afar. He was a magnetic person. He inspired those who loved him as he was truly fearless, optimistic, charming, full of laughter, a great lover of music and a great lover of love. Sometimes he did things that were annoying, but only when you were the victim of his jokes.

My first reaction to his death was not a sadness that I would never see him again, although I do wish I could have known him longer, it was a sadness for those he left behind, specifically for his daughter Secret. But as time has passed and more information comes, I grow more and more sensitive to the pain his life and death illustrates in this small but influential community of kids in lower Manhattan.

His death is not the first of this crew. There was Harold Hunter died February 17th 2006 from a “cocaine over dose” but those who knew him think other elements were involved. Then there was Lily Wheelwright who died on March 22nd 2007, heroin. Then Semz, a member of the Irak crew Dash was a part of who died April 7th 2007 of heroin. Shawn Mortensen a great friend of the community who died April 17th 2009 of unpublicized causes and now Dash, July 13th 2009, heroin.

One night I was with Dan and Dash and “A-ron the Don” of a NYthing hanging out at Dan’s. It was just after the news of a good friend of mine died in Puerto Rico from heroin in 2005.

Everyone in my circle: New York 2001 and on did coke. I had a party at Kate’s Joint called “Night Coffee.” At some point it seemed people started doing more and more heroin. It was catching, but some struggled with heroin long before this particular circle found it chic. It was still an outlaw thing to do and even these “outlaws” didn’t talk about it.

But still I felt it was becoming more a problem for this group, and I begged A-ron as a voice of these people who I loved from a distance to check themselves. To remember the reality of this vampire.

CR and Dash in Paris

Now another one goes down. A good one.

He left many but perhaps most importantly he left a daughter who will only hear of her father and see the photos and wonder who was that man and what parts of him make up me?

Daddy Dash by Patrick Griffin

His death calls attention to it, but his life and those who shared their life with him also calls us to a simple and painful fact that the world is running empty on its supply of compassion.

Rest and restore yourself well, Dash. And love to all who knew him.

Mika Azegami. Temporary Situations. e-invite, originally uploaded by ChristineRenee.net.

New York. Check out the goods from a super talented lady, Sister Mika. Sunday May 3rd at Mangiami 9 Stanton.

Grace Jones and Mel Cheren

Today is the birthday of Ms Grace Jones. If you’re a disco head at all you appreciate her music. Really, its her conviction to be only and exactly who she is that is her most inspiring quality.

I’m too young to have been there for her “heyday” of late 70’s early 80’s New York or Paris, but I did catch her live about four years ago in one of NYC cheesy, mega clubs. She convinced me that night: it wasn’t she who’d past her prime time, it was the scene itself who’s heyday had come and gone.

Whatever “it” is that transforms the dark in a big, cold, hard city into nights with friends, glitter and stardust, it is still exuded by Grace.

That night she was adorned in her uniquely GJones attire. Objects sent direct from other galaxies, and the endowment of a spectacular body to match. She had one leg propped up on a huge set-fan the other on stage while she pumped her massive and untrimmed muff in the faces of an audience who was doing little more than being stunned and waiting for the Black Eyed Peas to come on stage.

“Where’s New York?” she screamed. This woman turns 60 today.

Take it from someone who was there… Steve Lewis. I used to promote for Steve’s Wednesday night parties at Marquee. I never really knew what I was doing as a promoter. I knew I liked showing up someplace and basically getting paid to drink.

Steve and I got to be friends outside all of that (lucky for me) and I finally just began to read his blog, Good Night Mr. Lewis. Its all about the club life of NYC, its history, its politics, the old and current gossip and his forecasts for the future. Its a really good blog, and Steve’s a great writer.

Here’s something he wrote about a night with Ms Jones.

Lily by Ryan McGuinley

I keep thinking of a friend who died last year, Lily. She died on March 22nd 2007. One day on the dance floor in the Wall street area at the chinese restaurant basement disco, a bolt of lightning shot between her, agathe and I. I miss her deeply.

So maybe motivated by her spirit, I finally summoned the bravery to picked up three rolls of five year old film I dropped off for development two months ago. I think I was afraid of seeing things from the past. But the past isn’t that bad.

these pics are from the rolls. This one was just after the blizzard of 2003 in February. It was Melanie’s Birthday and we were at some red bar with a pool table in the back on 8th ave and 14th. All the Texans in New York we knew were there, sick of being trapped in big coats out doors or worst trapped indoors ran out and played in the still melting snow in near skivvies (well, it felt like it).

this one , I think is one night after passerby. I think that’s thomas when he was going through his owl necklace phase. Shopi was house sitting for Bjork so we all went there and were up till the Gay Pride Parade went off that sunday morning up 8th or was it 6th ave. Thomas went out to join the festivities and sadly reported that he looked more “gay” than anyone out there. What happened to the plums and glitter and platforms that were once the uniform of New York’s finest? Khakis and button downs, the price paid for acceptance.

this is melanie captured in an indignantly seductive mouth shot as she is prone to do. This was another great day, summer… it started off with a kick-ball  game in prospect park, food, beer, bikes and sunshine in the foreign massive green world that is prospect park. A select few of us ended up on our roof, and I had the great idea to break out some spray paint cans.

Tim Barber sprayed “Live Animals” + sexy boy-toy Ryan the Stay Gold model/hostest at Kate’s Joint. Tim took these photos. I have pics of the wall we created too, but they’re in storage on Flatbush. I had to paint over that wall later due to neighborhood complaints. But I used to wear my live animals t all the time. Here’s more of the photos

finalmente, originally uploaded by ChristineRenee.net.

It was two years ago yesterday that I flew from NY to LA for no good reason, except that I needed a break from the city and that Alex had a dream, in Paris, that I needed to leave NY and go specifically to LA.

So I began to make it happen. On an unseasonably warm but slightly damn NY January night, i was introduced to LA’s John Hollywood at a dark and almost empty bar. Spencer and Ben were djing and the audience consisted of  myself, Gabi, Matt Weapons, Thomas B and John Hollywood.

I told John I was thinking of going to LA for a vacation, and he said if I did I could say at his apt. One year later this stranger from LA LA LAnd would be one of the only two witnesses to my marriage with Alex.

It was with his blessing and accommodations that I booked my flight to travel to a place I never really liked, but that seemed okay because I knew LA had sun.

I stayed one night and drove to San D the next day to met Hugh Herrera.

Now I’ve told this story a hundred times, but last night Hugh and I hung out and played music together again for the first time in a loooong time, and the memories are flooding. Coincidentally its been raining in LA for the last five days and the streets are flooding, too.

So its raining and I’m doing a little clean up and I came across something I wrote back then, about doing drugs and being on this adventure away from NY. I sound so different, even to myself, I’ve changed… but my vision for the disco hotel has not. The dream seems renewed all over again, running two years strong.

I made a promise to everyone and to myself to create a place of refuge for the disco family. The hotel will happen and is happening.

So I propose a toast, Happy Anniversary! Raise a glass of master cleanser in honor of your dreams.

Love,
from the number one dreamer

uprising, originally uploaded by la.kalash.

I got to the airport at 8:30 am, missed my 9:30 flight from LA to NY, rode the plane with Chris Holmes, shared a cab to the east village, and was in the bathroom at the 205 club on christie and stanton at 9pm changing from day gear to disco gear, brushing my teeth, washing up – french whore style – and then to the decks to play some tunes.

It seemed like forever since I played in New York, and I had a lot of love bubbling up in me that needed to be shared. I got it out, all out, and it was a beautiful thing.

Thanks to the Andrews: Stinson, Potter, and Lovefingers, james fucking, mizz melie mel, m-e-g-a-n, nisian, brennan g, roy toy dank, sean dak, chris sexican, anton, language, poogene the eugene, mika, disco donkey, disco chicken, andrea, barbie and friends for making it happen.

P1000426, originally uploaded by ChristineRenee.net.

the pics from that day

Thanks to everyone, and to SHADI Perez for these amazing pics:

http://shadinyc.com/

Alex was also equipped with a camera:

http://www.flickr.com/