Manic, STONED, Throttle, No Brakes

Less than six months after her Gagosian sölu show, the artist JAMIAN JULIANO-VILLAND lost her gallery and all her money and was preparing for an exhibition with two the biggest living American artists.

- JAY BULGER

T WAS St. Patrick's Day weekend 2024, and it was so crowded inside the Gagosian showroom that had taken over Mary Boone's old gallery on West 24th Street that I could barely see the paintings. Downtown rats, art-school students, several generations of art stars, musicians, Hypebeast editors, collectors, writers, academics, Harold Ancart, Leo Fitzpatrick (bumming out cigs), Jennifer Lawrence-all there for Jamian Juliano-Villani's solo show. There was a line down the block. Juliano-Villani, a head shorter than most, entered with "I need a fuckin' drink!" in her Newport 100's New Jersey growl. Matt Dillon followed, arm in arm with her mom.

There was art, too: big, expensive (up to $200,000 apiece), ironic oil paintings.

A portrait of Henry Kissinger against an I Spy background; another that read STEAMY LITTLE JEWISH PRINCESS with the T's replaced by the Western Beef cactus.

The showstopper was on the front wall: Juliano-Villani, larger than life-size in track pants and ASICS sneakers, staring blankly ahead while squeezing Elvis's crotch.

Juliano-Villani played Pied Piper as the horde headed back to O'Flaherty's, the East Village gallery she started in 2021 with friends Billy Grant and Ruby Zarsky, for the after-party. They were showing the work of 82-year-old sculptor Donna Dennis. Techno blasted as pockets of light illuminated Dennis's enormous sculptures of houses and hotels, detailed down to the front porches-the same pieces that launched her career in the '70s. JulianoVillani was behind the bar-slash-desk, handing out shots of Evan Williams whiskey. That party went on until nearly 6 a.m.