A documentary about the art scene in Manhattan’s Lower East Side in the 1980s, “Make Me Famous,” raises many exciting questions

'Make me famous'
Village East by AngelikaManhattan
16 to 21 August

Brian Vincent's art documentary “Make Me Famous” brought to mind a question that has been on my mind for years: What happened to Jedd Garet? Mr. Garet – or rather his paintings – are on view throughout the running time of Mr. Vincent's pictures, not as a topic of discussion, but as background scenery.

The canvases, with their cleverly rendered shapes and cartoonish glyphs, were quite popular at the time. Even though Mr. Garet did not achieve the fame of contemporaries such as Jean Michel-Basquiat, Julian Schnabel and Keith Haring, his work was reviewed in the art press, acquired for museum collections and attracted enviable attention.

A cursory Internet search reveals that Mr. Garet is still with us, as are many other artists who came of age in the halcyon days of 1980s Manhattan, and particularly the Lower East Side. As a dreamy newcomer to New York City in the mid-1980s, I witnessed the end of a kind of cultural reckoning—and definitely a finger in the eye of propriety. The demimonde was down and opportunity was in the air. Too much of a wimp to participate in the club scene, I took notice of artists, tiptoed around the misery, and debated the price of fame.

Even the hipsters who have managed to survive poverty, the AIDS epidemic, rampant drug use and the vagaries of the New York real estate market are interested in fame. Make Me Famous features actors, artists and performers who have achieved just that, including Eric Bogosian, Kenny Scharf, David McDermott, Peter McGough, Marguerite Van Cook and photographer Robert Mapplethorpe's former muse, Claudia Summers. Age and illness have since caught up with other people interviewed for the film: painters Duncan Hannah and Richard Hambleton and photographer Marcus Leatherdale.

At the center of “Make Me Famous” is Edward Brezinski. You may wonder who he is, but Mr. Vincent doesn't quite answer that question, or perhaps can't. Although he was active in the Lower East Side art scene – Brezinski appears on many videotapes from that era, many of which are used here – this scion of suburban Michigan eventually left the scene, moving first to Berlin and then to France. He lived in obscurity and died in a hotel in Nice. Or did he? Among the mysteries surrounding Edward Brezinski is that his death certificate cannot be found, but you won't catch me giving the film away.

Vincent is aware of the off-topic nature of his venture. “People were speechless,” he writes, “when I told them I wanted to focus on Brezinski.” This much can be said of the director: He has spared us yet another hagiography of overrated talent and blue-chip investments. Nor does he romanticize the drug-addicted, DIY, bohemian nature that was Alphabet City, although there is evidence that it had more integrity before it was hijacked by greedy opportunists like Jeff Koons, Haim Steinbach and Mary Boone.

Most of the people interviewed for the photo remember Brezinski as aggressively ambitious, moderately talented and a pain in the neck. Brezinski considered himself a player, but his ability to be nice was limited. He alienated friends and physical altercations were common. In a fit of anger, he threw a glass of wine in the face of an influential figure in the art world, Anina Nosei.

All of that was small compared to the evening Brezinski ate a work of art. This occurred at the opening of the first major solo exhibition by a sculptor, Robert Gober. The titular treats in “Bag of Donuts” (1989) looked good, but unbeknownst to Brezinski, they were treated with a chemical preservative. An ambulance took him to St. Vincent's Hospital. Fifteen minutes of fame began when page six of the New York Post picked up another story about silliness in the art world. The Associated Press subsequently made it international news.

“This will not do my career any good,” the artist mused, but his career seemed to have stalled anyway. The art market was shifting its focus from painting to post-conceptualism. A painter who came from the heart was at the mercy of ideological and artistic fashions. So it is worth noting that “Bag of Donuts” fetched nearly a quarter of a million dollars at auction and that Brezinski's work went unnoticed. Which of these two outcomes is considered the greater injustice is for those who follow Mr. Vincent's quirky labor of love to consider.