Scott Campbell is known for his canvases as much as his art—he’s the tattoo artist of choice for Marc Jacobs, Josh Hartnett, and Bruce Springsteen. But last night, he gave New York a look at work he’s done on other, non-human backdrops. Big sheets of dollar bills, hologram paintings, and copper-plate etchings (done with a high-tensile tattoo needle, naturally) are the stuff of If You Don’t Belong, Don’t Be Long, Campbell’s first New York solo show and the inaugural exhibition at Crosby Street’s new OHWOW gallery.
“It’s funny, people talk about tattoos and the first word that comes into their mind is ‘permanent,’ ” Campbell explained at Evisu’s after-party at the Trump Soho, where a very mixed crowd did its best to rid the recently unveiled luxury hotel’s third-floor event space of its new-carpet smell. (By a little after midnight, revelers had cleaned the place out of booze.) “But actually, tattoos are the most ephemeral medium that I work in. You do a tattoo and, you know, it goes and gets hit by a bus or gets sunburned.”
Now that the show’s up, Campbell can get back to the tattoo clients who had to cool their jets while he was preparing it. That includes Jacobs, who came to the opening with Lorenzo Martone. Far from having split, as recent rumors have suggested, he and Martone were thinking about getting couples’ ink. “They were talking about coming in and getting something together,” Campbell said.
The moments leading to Glastonbury were hardly feel-good ones: There was the news, of course, about Farrah Fawcett and Michael Jackson, and to make matters worse, the weather report was among the bleakest I’ve ever seen. According to the trusted meteorologists at Weather.com, the English countryside would be stormy and wet all weekend. Happily, they got it wrong. It was mucky at Lady Gaga (which was why the pop princess paired her red patent-leather bustier with Wellington boots, presumably); but that was about as wet as it got. No showers at Neil Young (just Olympia Scarry on a friend’s shoulders) and no mudslides at Kasabian (the band that Lily Donaldson introduced me to after she met them on a Burberry campaign shoot). The stars even came out at Bruce Springsteen’s headlining gig on Saturday night—the weekend was a dream. That’s Kaya Scodelario, from hit Brit drama Skins, in the middle, soaking up her own rays outside the hospitality tent, where she was a guest of Lacoste. Jacquetta Wheeler showed up on Saturday in a tizzy: She’d come straight from a job in the Catskills and was recovering from a layover that she said was one of the most annoying delays of her life. Alice Temperley‘s double-decker bus was our home base. It’s where my first—but hopefully not my last—Glastonbury ended just as it began: with a glass of hot cider and a touch of rum in my hand. For more pictures from the festival, click here.