Factory made

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On August 26, 1977, I arrived in New York City, where the air felt like a blow dryer at 32 degrees Fahrenheit. Initially planning to stay for a week before returning to Paris for a film with Anna Karina, my plans quickly changed. Instead, I spent three years in Manhattan collaborating with Andy Warhol on films like BLANK GENERATION and COCAINE COWBOYS, along with hundreds of Polaroid shots that Warhol cherished. Reflecting on the late 70s and early 80s, my memories are a jumble of moments: cruising Route 66 in a blue metallic Mustang or experiencing a bizarre rainstorm in Death Valley during Christmas. To make sense of this chaotic period, influenced profoundly by Warhol, I felt compelled to organize my thoughts before they faded into the chaos of American life. This narrative is dedicated to Andrew Warhola, my enigmatic mentor, whose influence transformed my existence. Before meeting him, I was merely another European actor/director. Afterward, I felt liberated. While Fassbinder’s intense productions confined me, Warhol handed me the keys to my own freedom.