Art is the lie that enables us to realize the truth. -- Pablo Picasso

So yesterday I decided to act on Paul Sorvino's line from GoodFellas --"So now I’ve got to walk away" -- regarding my old chum Michael Alig. Michael is locked up in suicide watch, in solitary confinement in a place upstate surrounded by murderers, rapists, police, and thieves. If he could see beyond the concrete and bars of his confinement, he would be looking at a beautiful countryside of corn and resorts. The Neville, an old-school, Jerry Vale/Henny Youngman kind of place (where I was most likely conceived) is only a couple miles down the road. That short, tragic road is for most avoidable, and for Michael it is a particularly sad length of tar. He had the talent, vision, and balls to pull off great social growth more than anyone in my experience save for Andy Warhol.

I met Andy a number of times, and he spoke to me with great affection and attention. He imparted advice to me that I still lean on today, and although he certainly could be sarcastic, I never saw him to be cruel. In the last years of Michael’s career as king of the club kids, the drugs had altered his brain. He was still sharp, but cruelty and disrespect and rudeness now replaced art and tolerance and celebration. The drugs sought drugs, and the evil within all of us gushed to the surface in Michael and his minions. I was there, I saw it happen, and I eventually turned my back on my old friend because there was nothing I could do to save him from the path he chose.

He has again chosen a path that I will not share with him. Again it is drugs that drive him. I have seen so many friends lose everything, including their lives. One of the great loves of my life died on her second exposure to heroin; I can't see her face in my mind anymore, yet I can still feel the pain. Michael’s drug use isn’t my problem with him; shoot, as a commenter said, what could be expected from a junkie in a place like that, where drugs are everywhere? My problem is the lies and manipulating behavior -- the junkie bullshit. I won’t tolerate the junkie games that I am all too familiar with. I’m so over it. I’ve seen the place that he sits in, know it better than some, and when in the past I have been blowing Michael up, it is because I was amazed at how he had survived and created art in that terrible solitude. The greatest tragedy besides the death of Angel Melendez is the waste of talent. I thought I could reach Michael and steer him down a road of resurrection. I myself have redefined who I am post-prison, and I thought it my obligation to help, but now I don’t know.

Even so, here are few opinions about Michael's art from various art-world luminaries:

Eric Foss: Fuse Gallery It's definitely obvious that he was a club kid and a product of the 80s pop culture. I see a lot of that -- it’s derivative -- in the work, but I think he has talent, and he's making some really cool stuff. ... I would tell him to get a day job because I tell every artist they should probably have something to do before they start selling work, but with someone like Michael who knows so many people, he's got a good chance. I could definitely show and sell his stuff now, though.

Alex Arcadia: painter, sculptor, and conceptualist I think it's solid ... his style is very clear, bold, and graphic, which kind of makes sense because it's a tool used by the media and pop culture to communicate something in a very clear way. I can almost see these accompanying editorial or little articles in Teen Vogue or Elle or something like that. That sounds kind of sick because it’s coming from a different place than people who would be in these kinds of magazines. There's also this circus-like quality to the paintings, which is a perfect reflection of what was going on then. So he's really drawn from his experiences, even though he's been jail for 13 and a half years. He put himself back there somehow, to capture these images of how these people were then. If you look at any one of these people now, you wouldn't recognize them. He's in a time capsule, so that makes sense.

Theodore Liouliakis: patron, art expert, and brand consultant Obviously the tortured soul comes out in a lot of his work. I'm really feeling the double series; I like the juxtaposition of the pieces and the colors really pop out. The zombie kids -- rohypnol and the 2mg -- I don’t really view it as an anti drug piece, but he may interpret it that way. I see a person portraying this kind of club-kid demon, with the book on the head, the way models practice their walk. I think he's really on to something with the double series. The colors in the “Leigh Bowery” are awesome --super dope.

Based on his history, I think there are two ways that this can go. Jeffrey Dice, for example, is one of the gallerists I work with -- he only works with painters. And basically there is commercial viability for a guy like this. He has a story, the talent level is there, he's definitely going to keep maturing as an artist, but there's definitely something there with the double series. The zombie kids, I'd like to see more from that before I can decide. With marketing, these pieces could be worth about $5,000 to $10,000 for a canvas this size.

Fenton Bailey: co-producer, Party Monster, co-founder, World of Wonder Michael's paintings are definitely arresting -- a dog with a hypodermic in its mouth, a kid popping a giant pill. All painted in pop pastels and very flat like Hannah-Barbera. The thing that always strikes me about Michael and his work on canvas is that it really puts his work as a party promoter in perspective ... his genius for taking a simple, even obvious idea and rendering it in an apparently innocent way that completely turns it on its head. I guess some people call this irony, but it's more powerful and twisted than that. What saddens me is his that he’s very sophistication and often misunderstood. He's really a very moral force, commenting on the way we as a culture have simultaneously infantilized, fetishized, and criminalized pleasure all at the same time. The culture is sick, and Michael points that out with a giggle.