Series Stories About Artists #1

Knowing Dennis Oppenheim (Artist)

I guess in any aspects in life, you want to be in the know. I feel that is especially true in the art world. What did the artist mean by the use of shape and shadows in this painting?  Why did they choose that particular subject matter? They have classes just on symbolism for art. So, when you are very good friends with an artist, especially one that has been so influential, it is indeed interesting, to be in the know.

When I moved to New York City, all those years ago, the Village Voice was your lifeline here. It was how you found your job, your apartment, what movies to see and what bands were playing (back in the day of Coney Island High and the Tunnel). It was in the Village Voice, where I found my job working for Dennis Oppenheim.  Artist assistant wanted.  Room and board.  Part time.

I answered the ad, and 15 minutes after being interviewed, I was living and working for Dennis Oppenheim. Now Dennis was many things to many people. To most he was a sculptor, a conceptual artist, a lady-killer and one to throw memorable (and crazy) parties in his loft in Tribeca. To me, he was, and always will be, just Den.

I was not only his assistant, but I was his friend. Not an easy thing. Meaning it’s not easy to be his assistant-and it was not always easy to be his friend.  To be an assistant to any one, you have to be on their time schedule, know their needs before they do and basically to keep them happy so that they can work constructively. To be friends as well, you have to be able to let go with what happens at work –the constant neediness the getting packs of cigarettes at weird hours, dealing with curators, ego . . .

To say Den was larger than life doesn’t even come close to what he was. He had a presence that was almost like a rock star or a movie star or I guess an art star. If you were in a restaurant with him, people would look at him and know that he was “somebody”, even if they didn’t know he was a famous international artist. It made you feel special just being with him, because you would think, he could be with anyone and he is choosing to spend his time with me. Though looking back now, he was spending time with me, because I was always game for his antics.

A typical night out with Den, would be him knocking at my door at 11 pm, “Hey Kitty (he never remembered names so that everyone, even his closest friends, were either “Kitty” or “Hey You”) grab your coat. Let’s go!” We would drive to Avenue C and go play bingo with the transvestites, then around midnight hit the last show at the Angelika, it didn’t matter what was playing, just go and see something.  Now it would be around 1:30-off to Times Square! He would suggest going to random XXX stores just to watch the people who came in. Coming close to 2 am, time to go to the Warwick Hotel for drinks (Den claimed Elvis used to go there for cocktails. . .) at the Warwick he would try to make patrons believe I was an escort –and then go to the bathroom and would come back to see if any guys were talking to me-ok now its 3:30 time to go to one more after party in SoHo.  4 am back in the car, back home to Tribeca. 9 am-time to get to work.

Getting back to work meant often working on his actual pieces. This is the part when it’s funny to “be in the know”, many critics, curators and collectors interpret art work that is part of their job. But when you read articles and see how people but symbolism when they’re just isn’t, is kind of funny.  I would often read pieces about Den’s work and what it meant.  Like reading how the red yarn symbolized the loss of his mother.  Not true.  As his assistant, I had picked the red yarn because it was on sale and we needed a lot of it. Den did not take himself so seriously, and didn’t really have critical/analytical theory to his work.  When I think of Den’s work, I think of his wonderful sense of humor.  I always loved his piece where there are big sculptures of black kettles with his voice coming out saying “black black black”.  Get it? Calling the kettle black!? Ha! So with most of Den’s work, you really didn’t have to “be in the know” you just had to have a sense of humor!

When Den died, I felt a sense of loss that cannot even be explained. Although he knew so many people and influenced so many people, I felt like I had lost one of the most important people in my life. And I had. He was someone that was like a butterfly effect to my world. If I hadn’t answered that ad in the Village Voice I would have had a different life. Den changed people’s perspective often of what was art. Especially early in his career with his land art and other ways he worked conceptually. For me, he changed not only how I viewed art but my life. If it wasn’t for knowing Den I would not have gotten so many “ins” in the art world. Most likely I would not have gotten the internship at the Guggenheim in Venice, the gallery job at Aperture or being director at Stux gallery.

Everyone that knew Dennis has their own memory of him. Their own Dennis story. This one was mine.

Text by Rebecca Welch Kastin (Former Studio Assistant, Friend)