This is NOT Really Glamorous Coming Home to Dash Snow

Dash Snow, right, hugs a muse for a Polaroid in happier times

Hearing that Michael Jackson died while studying on a hilltop in Jerusalem as the howling Muslim call to prayer sounded in the distance seemed surreal. Discovering that Dash Snow — artist, bad boy, disgruntled rich kid –OD’d once I hit ground in NYC proved a stark dose of reality.

“Welcome Home!” the graffiti painted image of Snow, lining a brick wall on Allen and Houston seemed to say.  “I’m still here, laughing at all you jerks down there.” Let’s face it, we’re all jerks. It’s part of the human condition to test boundaries.

Last I (sort of) encountered Snow, was lingering backstage when I invited my friend Sara Costello and her pal Jade, Dash’s girlfriend, to meet Leonard Cohen and his backup singers at Radio City Music Hall in May. Leonard skipped out right after the show. Dash, apparently, left after that first song, “Dance me to the end of love.” Jade said something about him feeling down. Yes, sometimes Leonard can do this to people. But something deeper seemed to be brewing. Dash had just finished a stint at rehab. But, what about rehab for the rest of us?

Flipping through Dash’s polaroids on the Peres Projects website, you’ll find a white girl snorting coke off black dick, two naked girls, one splaying open her labia, some deli guy showing his tatooed chest, a bottle blonde and dark guy in a car, a guy shooting up. We now believe that  people exposing their vices builds a community of sorts, so we’re just all one sick stew. Sex becomes as sexy as shitting in a toilet. Drugs take on the guise of powdered sugar and energy drops for the veins. Aren’t we all ugly?

Even Dash Snow — who could have been likened to some sort of Flemish prince in an earlier century  with his slim physique, big eyes, and blonde hair– preferred to look like a street bum. Maybe it’s time we started lifting each other out of the gutter instead of snapping shots of ourselves in the midst of desperation.

Dash, who was too young and too smart to die, went limp in a bathtub just like David’s painting of Marat. That painting remains one of the most dramatic and beautiful images in art. But the reality behind Dash’s death will haunt downtown New York kids for a long time to come.

Rest in Peace.

Advertisement