An excerpt from DEAR DAVE, 25
The original Warhol Factory, which had actually been a factory, was a typical industrial grunge space on the outskirts of Manhattan—clunky and dilapidated. One day Billy was having a hair cutting party at his apartment in the Village and the great proto-pop artist Ray Johnson took his friend Andy Warhol along. Andy was amazed by Billy’s pad, where every inch was spray painted silver or papered in aluminum foil. It was a night for day world, neither black nor white but a new spectrum that seemed like the future.