Dash Snow, Dead at 27

Images via Kathy Grayson

I just heard that Dash Snow was found dead of an apparent overdose last night.

I was never particularly fond of Dash's work--to me, it embodied a lot about contemporary art (and photography in particular) that I dislike.

However, I don't feel that this is the time to rant on about my feelings regarding Dash or his work specifically. I never met him personally, and others have done a better job than I would discussing the issues with his work.

Rather, the problem with Dash was the image built up around him by his friends, his dealers, and the media. It only ever seemed to be about Dash's work insofar as it authenticated the lifestyle he represented. A frequently cited profile in New York Magazine hyped him as "the mythical hero of an artistic underworld" with a knowing wink.

For the hangers on and the collectors, it was about touching that hype, engaging in this sense of dangerous living and hedonistic fun that his persona represented. At the ugliest moments, there seemed to be the impression of a deathwatch surrounding him, as if the art market was waiting in morbid expectation for the logical consequence of his lifestyle to add an air of young talent tragically lost (already the media is setting Dash up as "the Basquiat of Our Generation") while inflating the market value of his work. Now that he is dead, an icon will be made of him, many will say they were his dearest friends, and money, lots of money, will be made.

Sadly, the real tragedy in all of this is not the loss of another young artist to drugs, but rather that his daughter Secret, whom it is apparent that he deeply loved, will now grow up without her father.

Requiescat in pace.