Yesterday Andy Warhol’s Silver Car Crash – a 8 by 13-foot piece of a mangled body inside a wrecked car – sold for a record $105 Million at a NYC auction. When I saw photos of the silkscreen splashed all over the web, it conjured up images of the scandalous studio where it was made. But The Factory not only churned out the silkscreens and lithographs that made Warhol the iconic pop artist that he is, it also hosted the most sensational parties of its time and was home to artists, musicians, writers and amphetamine users. Lou Reed, Jim Morrison, Bob Dylan, Salvador Dali, Allan Ginsberg and William S Burroughs have all crashed on its notorious red couch that Warhol discovered on a sidewalk. It was the place where he redefined cinema. Where pretty boys in tight leather jeans shared the screen with drag queens and superstars of his own making. “Our movies may have looked like home movies,” said Warhol, “but then our home wasn’t like anybody else’s.”

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