Previously in this series I have touched upon nightlife as art. To many, the club is not simply a place to dance, drink, or feel like a VIP while ordering bottle service at an exorbitantly high markup (if you are douche-y and/or stupid enough to do that). To a certain few, the club is the only place where they can show an aspect of their personality and connect in a way that otherwise they would not be able to. The club is a stage and a showcase unto itself.

The final interviewee for my project, artist and nightlife personality Chip Cirrhosis, epitomizes this concept.

Chip moved to New York City six years ago from Phoenix, Arizona for two reasons: boredom, and to get a foot in the door to the art scene, making connections and looking for inspiration. He had been dressing up and going out before then since he was 16, but after reaching a sense of stagnation, New York seemed to have the vigor he was looking for.

Chip’s art has two dimensions, both encompassing a fetish-y, sleazy quality, as he would describe it. He prefers painting and mixed media, collage-type works—currently he’s into buying up thrift store finds and redressing them into something beyond what they would normally embody, with wild, dayglo colors and a big dose of religious iconography. Expect perverted Barbie dolls, spray paint, and KFC logos, and you might have an idea of what Chip does.

But the other side of his art is the most in-your-face. Chip becomes his art, and embodies it in ways that few artists can or will. After an hour of preparation, including applying heavy applications of white, acrylic paint and makeup to a stocking that he uses as a mask, the character of Chip Cirrhosis is born. He is a form of performance art and a walking calling card unto himself, introducing curious onlookers to his other works.

His mask, evocative of Leigh Bowery, erases all expression, while his complex “looks” of neon-colored chains, frazzled wigs, and singed pantyhose play with the boundaries of sexuality. Chip, while being “Chip,” aims to pull expressions not out of himself, but others with whom he interacts. He flirts with reaction, and revels in being provocative. And isn’t that what the best art is supposed to be? To provoke a reaction?

Often people can find a sense of validation from the club circuit, or an outlet for one’s creativity. Ironically, Chip is not one of these people, nor can he really relate what he does to the colorful nightlife personalities of the past. But one thing that continues to draw him in and give him a sense of solace is the music. According to Chip, the club is akin to church, where he can heal from the stresses of living as an artist in New York. There, he says, he can “become [my] own god, destroy [my] temple, and build [my] own.”

Click here to view a comparison of nightlife locales from then and now.

Chip Cirrhosis, Chris Christopher, Gerry Visco, and Brita Filter, each one represents a different aspect of the nightlife spectrum. Some depend upon it for their livelihood, others do it for entertainment, however they all fit within the complex tapestry of characters that make up the nightlife of today’s New York City, while also paying homage to the past.

They will not be the last.