* When I first met Dash Snow at a small, sloppy gathering at Javier Peres' in Silver Lake about a year ago, he had stripped down to nothing but boots, a tiny leather vest, and what looked like plain skin-colored bathing briefs. His long hair was in country-girl braids. This get-up would have made any other person seem mildly obnoxious. But Dash came off as a lawless, grimey bad-ass. Turns out that's what he was. The New York art terrorist and model had just gotten out of County after getting caught tagging up the 101 and leading cops on a foot-chase across traffic. My friend Kathy soon dubbed him "Three Skulls" for the Mexican-esque tatt on his chest. Quite properly: Dash, never without a camera, never not making art, is frequently in L.A. This week, confirming his magnetism and growing mythos, Dash is on the cover of New York magazine, in a piece on "Warhol's Children," including Dash Snow, Ryan McGinley, and Dan Colen.
* So what's his art like? Raw. Fucked up. Poetic? If you ask me, his practice is perfectly suited to the godless and grotesque times in which we wander. Recently he's moved to collage.
* Here's a photo by Dash taken in Manhattan in the aftermath of Sept. 11, 2001. An image from that night in Silver Lake is tucked in the mag's photo package. Here's another, slightly edited: