Nineteen-sixty-two was the year Andy Warhol went pop, as the stars aligned in an unexpected constellation that began with the death of Marilyn Monroe that August. Seizing a press photo from the film Niagara, Warhol set to work, creating his very first silkscreen at what would become the earliest incarnation of The Factory.
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First located at 231 East 47 Street in Manhattan, rent for the famed floor-through loft was a mere one hundred dollars per year. From 1962 to 1967, Warhol ran the infamous Silver Factory — its decorating scheme cribbed from Billy Name’s apartment, which was decked out in tin foil and silver paint, a favored aesthetic of 1960s speed freaks. Billy Name also brought the infamous red sofa to the Factory, which he discovered on the sidewalk during one of his “midnight outings.”
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As a working class boy with caviar wishes and champagne dreams, Warhol weaved his own myth, taking great care to cultivate the image of casual genius while simultaneously erasing all traces of the hand of the artist from his work. His faith in the American Dream and the power of capitalism powered the Factory he owned: one where the products were fame, glory, glamour, and the promise of immortality through film, music, and art.
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