In this interview, Marc Balet discusses his exceptional life as a known personality in conceptual architecture, film, fashion, and art. His work was recognized in the 70s with the Prix de Rome in Architecture and he was a Fellow of the American Academy in Rome (1973-1975). He was also awarded a solo exhibition, Dreamhousing (September 5-30, 1973), by the Architectural League of New York at the Whitney Museum of American Art. He began his career in publishing and TV with Andy Warhol as Creative Director of Warhol’s Interview magazine (1976-1988) and the MTV show Andy Warhol’s Fifteen Minutes (1985-1987). In his Diaries, Warhol wrote about Balet: “I would miss Marc—he’s talented and he does a lot, although he’d do even more if he weren’t so busy with all his freelance stuff, the Armani ads and things” (Hackett 629-630). Marc Balet has also worked in fashion marketing with personalities/brands such as Giorgio Armani, Barney’s New York, Anne Klein, La Perla, Nike, Karl Lagerfeld, Yves Saint Laurent, and many others, creating successful campaigns that in turn have elevated the image of the designers and their products.
Marc Balet has collaborated with Martin Scorsese as Creative Consultant for the Netflix series Pretend It’s a City (2021) and the HBO production Public Speaking (2010). His work in film started with acclaimed filmmaker Derek Jarman on productions that included Miss Gaby (1972). He is featured in the Netflix series The Andy Warhol Diaries (2022) and in the film Eyes of Laura Mars (1978). He has conceptualized fashion publications such as Vogue Patterns, Mirabella, Detour, Fame, and Connoisseur, and he has been Creative Director of art books including Be-Spoke (2023), Gloss: The Work of Chris von Wangenheim (2015), Kenny Scharf (2009), Candace Bushnell’s Four Blondes (2007), The Class of Click (1999), and Andy Warhol’s Party Book (1988).
Balet calls Architectural Tales his photographic simulacra of urban and environmental concepts, which he develops in a series of architectural structures that elaborate the constructs of cities, homes, gardens, open spaces, lakes, highways, etc. within the frame of a sustainable and eco-friendly concept, with titles such as “The Bleeding Arms Hotel,” “City Limits,” “Garden Apartments,” “Instant City,” “My Bridgehampton,” “Palazzo Putti,” “Things Go Better with Fuller,” “The Room Above the Pool,” “The Tea House Condominium,” “The Topiary Home,” or “The Tree House,” and “Vacation Dreamhouse.” These series have been defined as “a real stopper” catching the viewer’s attention, in The New York Times (Glueck) and have been featured in Musée: Vanguard of Photography Culture, Select, and several other venues. While Marc Balet’s work can be associated with Stefano Boeri’s Vertical Forest, Balet mentions Frank Gehry’s influence on his architectural landscapes (2021). While the architectural models have existed outside of the photographic sequences, Balet makes them permanent through his photography and the videos that he has made, as well as through his written narratives, such as the Dreamhouse journal featured in Architectural Design (Balet 1973).
Marc Balet has shown his work at the Institute of Contemporary Arts in London, the MoMA PS1, the Whitney Museum of American Art, New York University’s Grey Art Gallery and Study Center, and has been featured in Architectural Design, Domus, New York magazine, Tilt, Women’s Wear Daily and The New York Times. He has also collaborated with the Italian group of Florentine conceptual architects, Super Studio/Studio 9999, and he has lectured at Cambridge University and twice at Texas Tech University: at the Museum of Texas University with the Italian Program (2023) and with the Italian Program in the Department of Classical and Modern Languages and Literatures (2022). He has studied Architecture and Fine Arts at the Rhode Island School of Design.
Victoria Surliuga (VS): Thank you for giving this interview for ytaliglobal.com. We have already discussed your work on several occasions, and I have a few more questions about your work in conceptual architecture, publishing, fashion, and with celebrities. First, how does the idea of the ideal house develop with time and throughout our lives? How has it changed throughout your life.
Marc Balet (MB): In my art or in my life? Because in my life, my dreamhouse was my triplex loft I bought 35 years ago in Noho, Manhattan. When I first saw the loft, I’d been looking for a while to move from two very small apartments on 22nd Street. I visited the space three times before I was able to buy it. When I went the first time, my heart was racing.
I only wanted to live in maybe two or three places in all of Manhattan. It was time to get my dreamhouse. The first time I went to see it, I thought, “I have to live here.” But it was way too expensive, out of my reach. I got extremely depressed. I went back to my two little apartments that I had on 22nd Street: one, I lived in, one, I worked in. I always like to be near where I’m working. This loft totally filled the bill.
Marc Balet’s Loft in New York
Marc Balet’s Loft in New York
Marc Balet’s Loft in New York
Marc Balet’s Loft in New York
A second viewing came when a real estate agent brought me there: it was still too expensive; I couldn’t do it. I became despondent. I have an obsessive personality. I had to make that my home. After some months of looking around, I went back a third time. What I didn’t know then was that the owners were going through a divorce. They needed to sell it. As I was looking through The New York Times (which I did weekly), I had seen a two-sentence ad that said, “Loft, x amount of square footage, I think 3800 square feet, triplex.” That was it. I ran down there, and saw it was the exact loft that I had been longing for.
It was still too much money for me. I said to them, “Look, this is all the money I have, you can have it tomorrow and, if you want it tomorrow, give me the loft.” They said, “OK, we’ll do it.” It was very rundown. Everything was leaking and kind of falling apart. I knew exactly what I wanted to do with it. I knew where my studio was going to be and how I would design a great living and entertainment area. I wanted to make a garden on the roof. I ended up having two. One in front overlooking Broadway and the other hidden in the back. My bedroom was a house built on top of the roof. When I moved in, it was just tar all around it, but soon the gardens (one with an outdoor shower) were constructed. Over the years it became a destination.
In art, Dreamhousing, is based on work I began at RISD under the mentorship of my brilliant professor Raimund Abraham. My architecture has an emotional foundation supported by walls of language. An idea might spring from some phrase I heard or something I read. Then, I visualize it. I make it my own. For example, The Bleeding Arms Hotel came to me while walking around London and New York. I viewed upscale buildings everywhere or trying to be seen as upscale with grand names like The Remington Arms or the Burlington Arms, etc. Very posh. So, I imagined a locale called The Bleeding Arms Hotel, a macabre turn of phrase.
My Bridgehampton series was inspired by a trip to the Long Island enclave of Bridgehampton. I dreamed of Bridgehampton as an actual development of fancy summer houses made of bridges. It made sense to me. Those are two examples of how language inspires me. It’s good to read and to listen.
Marc Balet, My Bridgehampton
Marc Balet, My Bridgehampton
VS: In your work with conceptual architecture, how do you expand your models into ideal small cities and groups of houses?
MB: When I created my version of Garden City, a suburb of Long Island, New York. I thought, “Well, Garden City should be a Garden City.” I was living in Italy at the time. I went around Rome to the fruit and vegetable markets, and I bought the most interesting vegetables I could find. Then, I cast them in white resin, and I made this megalopolis city out of vegetables, so that a spectacular Italian cauliflower became Garden City’s enormous sports complex. The architectural vogue at the time was to imagine mega cities. Garden City was my commentary on this rather silly mega city notion.
VS: According to Jung, the house is the keeper of the unconscious, the protection of individuality. When looking at your house projects, do you envision your conceptual architecture to have a similar objective? And I’m asking this because in our last interview you mentioned that the house does not necessarily protect people.
MB: Exactly. I designed a few homes that put their occupants in precarious positions. One series is called Knotted Homes. They were homes of knotted rope representing the feeling of not feeling at home where you lived. Not feeling comfortable. I definitely felt Not At Home where I grew up and couldn’t wait for my real life to start. I situated one knotted house in Vail and one in the Hamptons.
I designed a Home for a Young Actor in the form of a spider’s web. In the accompanying narrative, I describe how precarious a life in show business can be. One misstep in your career, a bad movie, a horrible play, bad TV show, could be fatal to your career. It’s best to maneuver your life outside and inside the home with care.
Marc Balet, Knot at Homes
Marc Balet, Knot at Homes
VS: The series The Room Above the Pool and The Bleeding Arms Hotel seem to represent houses that do not protect their owners. How does the stability of the house find its representation and embodiment in the house itself if safety, structure, and belonging are what houses are supposed to give their owners?
MB: The Room Above the Poolstood about 6 feet tall. It was a model of the side of a cliff at the top of which a room in the shape of a diving board jutted out over a precipitous cliff. At the bottom, hundreds of feet below, lay a beautiful pool. The woman, now a widow, stands alone looking out to her destiny between two windows whose drapes fly out into the wind. The diving board room is carpeted and furnished. At the opposite end, a fireplace is built into the head of a very large, white, plaster head of a goddess. Did the woman push her husband…or did he fall to his watery death? The accompanying text poses that question.
Marc Balet, The Room Above the Pool
Marc Balet, The Room Above the Pool
I made The Bleeding Arms Hotel in Rome when I was at RISD there. I made a few casts of my arm and then painted them flesh colored. One of the arms formed the portico under which you drove upon arrival. Nearby, people frolicked in the blood which cascaded from one bleeding arm to the next emptying into deep red pools.
Marc Balet, The Bleeding Arms Hotel
Marc Balet, The Bleeding Arms Hotel
Marc Balet, The Bleeding Arms Hotel
Marc Balet, The Bleeding Arms Hotel
It’s a macabre scene, but still very charming at first glance. It’s a miniature of a place, after all. The floor plan was an X-ray of my arm.
VS: What types of houses would you like to design now?
MB: Well, I’m doing floor plan art right now. One is a Mondrian house.
VS: What is the piece on Frank Gehry?
MB: It’s a piece entitled Frank Gehry’s Influence on Suburban Architecture. It illustrates, in a snarky way, that no matter how fractured and undulating the design of a home may be, one must still be able to live in it. You need a kitchen and a bathroom. A bedroom. Living room or living ‘space’. The piece shows an imaginary look at how a Gehry designed suburban home might fit into an otherwise normal neighborhood.
Marc Balet, Frank Gehry’s Influence on Suburban Architecture
Marc Balet, Frank Gehry’s Influence on Suburban Architecture
I’m working on some rock formation houses now. And some Jean Arp landscapes. I love his shapes and color. The houses are all sculptural. I’m not that great at making the perfect model but with correct lighting and the gift of retouching the final photographs (which are always the finished work) look realistic enough to make people ponder.
When I did work at the academy in Rome, I hired fellow Fellows who were vastly more proficient artists than I to do my “renderings”. The little bit of money I had I’d spend to make my work look more polished. I certainly do that now.
VS: As creative director, you have designed and worked on many books that have contributed to the cultural landscape of design, fashion, and the visual arts. Recently you have designed Be-Spoke published by Rizzoli. What are the signs of timeless elements that in turn become classics and icons in design, fashion, and art that you are interested in bringing to fruition in your work as book designer?
MB: Well, I love print and I think photographers still like to see their work in print. They like to hold the magazine object in their hands and thumb through the pages. I still think it’s important. I know it’s getting less and less so though I doubt it will totally disappear. I love the feel of magazines and books. It’s comfort food. I’ve done books on music: I designed What’d I Say: The Atlantic Story (2001) and The Montreux Jazz Festival (2007) with A Publishing Company, a four-volume book that I designed in Switzerland.
I’m starting another book with the talented illustrator Ruben Toledo for Rizzoli Publishing. I designed the last Antonio Lopez (2012) book. Antonio was a friend and a genius illustrator. Sadly, he’s no longer with us. It was a joy to work on that.
Be-Spoke (2023), also for Rizzoli, was a wonderful project because Rizzoli permitted me, as did Andy Warhol, to just do what I do. There were very few restrictions with Andy and there were very few restrictions with Rizzoli. You know, basically, make something wonderful for us. On Be-Spoke I suggested a new title, subhead and cover image for the project and the publishers went for it. That was very satisfying.
The Montreux Jazz Festival (2007)
What’d I Say: The Atlantic Story (2001)
When a customer walks into the bookstore, the cover is the marquis, it must grab your attention from across the room. It’s the candy wrapper enticing you to open it.
Ruben and I are now collaborating on the contents of a new book for Rizzoli on André Leon Talley.
I have another two exciting book projects with deadlines not yet set.
VS: I’m looking forward to the André Leon Talley book.
MB: Me too. I think I’ve come up with a good hook for the book. Ruben and I are just beginning it now. He’s been crazy busy and I’m in the middle of coping with moving my home to Connecticut.
VS: What artists, photographers, and stylists have engaged you the most? For instance, Arthur Elgort, Freddie Leiba, Chris von Hohenberg, Chris von Wangenheim, Albert Watson.
MB: Freddie Leiba is a fantastic stylist. I worked with him right at the beginning of his career while I was at Interview. I may have given him his first job. He became a major stylist in the fashion business.
Chris von Wangenheim, of course, was a friend. I ‘ve been writing a continuing series of tales from my days in the drug fueled fashion days of the late 70’s and 80’s for museemagazine.com, Musée: Vanguard of Photography Culture, where I’ve been describing different fashion trips with photographers with whom I’ve worked. I tell some of the crazy stories that ensued on our photo shoots all around the world with the sex, the drugs and the rock and roll. It was a very crazy and creative time.
I’m just finishing one very short story that’s not out yet on a trip to Bruce Weber’s Montana ranch. It tells the story about what happened when I went out there to visit him and Nan and got involved with a religious sect while having a corn removed from my toe, naturally.
Albert Watson is another great photographer with whom I’ve traveled. One hilarious story about a fashion trip to El Salvador.
Chris van Hohenberg, a great photographer, published a beautiful book [Andy Warhol: The Day the Factory Died, 2006] on Andy’s memorial at Saint Patrick’s. It’s worth getting. There are so many tales. Everyone’s on Instagram now. I follow so many artists. There’s a lot of great new work being done. The style of imagery may be very different from when I was working on magazines, but I’m in awe of so many of the great people creating arresting imagery now. It’s fantastic.
I like the manipulation of photography. Because that’s what I do. I finish a model, a three-dimensional model, I bring in my lighting and I put my macro lens on the camera and alter the perspective of the piece to look ‘real’. They’re miniatures, but they appear to have a sense of reality due to the angle and the lighting. Thank God for the macro lens.
I play God with my work by creating landscapes and shelters for my imaginary characters to inhabit. The resulting images can be shocking. I work with a great re-toucher who completes the pieces for me. So, they’re way more refined these days. When I look at some of my older work now, including The Bleeding Arms Hotel, I think that I really should go in and retouch it, freshen it up; smooth out the blood.
VS: In The Bleeding Arms Hotel, when you see those fingers creating the hands and the entrances, they seem to be the hands of God that will crash you flat down.
MB: Those are my hands, not God’s. I made that in the basement of Palazzo Cenci (RISD) in Rome. The basement is very deep, down under the building. I didn’t prepare, as usual. I don’t know how to do practically anything, and so I made a mold of my hand in plaster, and it, naturally, dried around my arm. Then, I realized I couldn’t get it out and I’m stuck in the sub-basement where no one could hear me, and I’m screaming for someone to come down to get me out of this heavy, cold mold. I had nothing around me to chip away at it. I didn’t think to put grease or anything on my hand. Finally, after a couple of hours, I got it to crash it to the floor with my arm still in it. The next time I greased up my arm and it came out fine. Otherwise, I could have been a character out of an Edgar Allen Poe tale.
VS: There is a Dario Argento theme to this.
MB: Perhaps.
VS: You have lived in Italy for several years as the recipient of a Prix de Rome and a Fellow of the American Academy in Rome. You have also collaborated with the conceptual architects of Super Studio/Studio 9999. What have you enjoyed the most about your life in Italy?
MB: I love Italy. Up until the pandemic, I traveled there every year since my school days. With my friend Giorgio Repossi, I traveled all over Italy, to the southernmost tip, to the northernmost part and up into Como and Switzerland. I love being in Italy, and I was fortunate enough to be able to fully experience the country.
Before starting school in Rome, I was dropped off at a strange house outside of Siena. This was to be an immersive experience for students to get acclimated. There were no Americans around and I had taken, like, half a course in Italian at school. The people I lived with didn’t speak one word of English. When I walked into their house that night, I said hello and they didn’t know what hello meant.
I thought, “Oh my God, I’m going to starve to death here.” I’m not going to be able to communicate at all. This was 1971, techless. I had a little dictionary and I looked up everything I possibly could to ask for food, water, and blankets. I’d go out and walk around in Siena. There’s no English being spoken; it was “affonda o nuota.” I’m a good swimmer. I hung out with mostly Italians. When I was on the Prix de Rome, I hung with Italians most of the time. I was fortunate enough to meet a lot of people and converse in Italian.
The biggest compliment of my life was when I was in a hotel outside of Saint Moritz called the Waldhaus. I was sitting with Giorgio, we only spoke in Italian, and I see some people across the vast formal dining room. These two people looked so familiar to me. I got up and walked across the room. They were, in fact, from New York, and they were in the publishing business, and they looked at me and they said, “Marc?” And I said, “Yes, what are you doing here?” And they said, “What are you doing here?” It was a hotel where no Americans were ever seen. They said, “Well, we’re on our way to this book fair and we were recommended to go and stop at this hotel, which is so fantastic.”
The hotel was like the one in The Shining, only in Saint Moritz. I said, “Why didn’t you come over and say hello to me?” They said, “We asked the waiter and he said oh no, we know him, he comes here every year. He’s Italian.” That was a great compliment.
My early work got published in Italy. The Super Studio was one of the original architectural groups who picked up on my work. I can’t remember how they heard about it, but they did.
It really was the first time that I thought, wow, you can get publicity on one’s art. You can get your work shown and known. This was all before the show at the Whitney or any of that stuff. It was a kind of a revelation for me. I was very excited about it. I remember I was doing a piece called The Low Income Totally Electric Light Bulb Housing because a lot of architects were concentrating on low-income housing.
A lot of my work is commentary on architecture of the time in the period. I created a landscape where you could purchase a 40 or 60 or 110 Watt bulb house to live in. Your size of wattage depended on your income. I plugged it in so that the houses (bulbs) lit up. The piece was part of a show in Rome. At the opening, a woman came up to me and she said, “You know, I love your work. It appears to be in the act of becoming”. I didn’t know whether it meant I just did shoddy work that never looked finished or was there some deeper meaning. I’m still deliberating on it all these decades later.
VS: On a different topic, you have worked with celebrities such as Goldie Hawn, Mick Jagger, Madonna, Diana Ross, that you have already mentioned in an earlier interview with me. What are the other celebrities that you enjoyed working with? For instance, you worked with Cher?
MB: I worked with Cher. This was many years ago, probably in the late 70s. Andy wanted her on the cover. When I do my cover photo shoots, I like to set up different scenes in a studio so that we can go from set up to set up. Not to waste time or let the subject get bored. We redo her hair, makeup and styling for each photo. She’s brought into the second setup. The cover is done separately. It was always a close-up, and that was done usually not on the set but just on no-seam so that the cover artist, Richard Bernstein, could create his magic.
Cher was late. She kept postponing the shoot. We were on a cover deadline. We didn’t have a backup. I was very nervous about it. Robert Hayes was the editor then. She came to set with her makeup done, and that, from the start, is a total no, no. No one does their makeup. No one does their hair. You come in and I have a consultation with the hair and makeup people. We do what we want for the magazine, not what you want. She came in with her eyelids covered with glitzy sequins. She saw me looking at her: she’s quite short, Cher, and I’m looking down at her at the door and she’s late. She’s about an hour and a half, two hours late to come, and I was freaking out. She looked up at me; she saw that I was not happy with her coming in like that. She said, “Look, I’m not a model.” I thought, “That went without saying.” Then, she came in and I was on edge. Robert Hayes saw that I was on edge. The first set up utilized a large Persian carpet as a backdrop. I have her laying on the carpet, the photographer gets down low and she’s crawling around on the carpet. I can’t remember what she’s wearing except for that makeup. She wouldn’t take it off. Robert Hayes said, “Let her alone, we need this cover.” Anyway, I’m down with her, and I’m saying, “Can you change it up a little bit? Can you change your pose to be more cat like?” She looks at me and she says, “You’re not cool enough to notice that I’ve already changed my pose.”
Robert Hayes came over immediately and grabbed my hand. We needed that cover; he didn’t want me to say something sarcastic to her. She might have been in a bad mood. They took her off set and they brought her into another room. I just cooled down. She was in the other room. I didn’t know what was going on in the other room. She came back out seemingly better, and we finished the shoot.
I got the pictures from the photographer and had all of her Vegas make-up retouched out and had the makeup I wanted retouched in. That’s how we ran the cover. So that was Cher, who I adore and love, obviously, but we had a bad day.
VS: Anyone else that you want to mention?
MB: I did a cover shoot for another magazine with a guy named Kevin Kline, a wonderful, big actor. He had done a lot of Shakespeare and movies. I had to shoot him in LA. He married a great gal I knew then named Phoebe Cates, who was a model at the time, a beautiful girl. I had him in a studio in Los Angeles. Walter Chin was the photographer. Sometimes, I like to surprise. I had Kevin on the floor of the studio. He knew me slightly, so we felt comfortable with each other. It was a cover, so it was important. We’re on the floor. I’m sitting with him and we’re talking about the next shot or whatever. “Kevin,” I said, “do you like dogs?” He was doing Hamlet at the time.
And he said, “I love dogs, Marc, I’m crazy about dogs.” I got up and I started walking away from him and he looked up at me, like, “What are you doing?” And I shouted, “Bring in the dogs.” Up from the basement bounded the Great Danes I had hidden down there. Great Danes for Hamlet. They came leaping into the studio and I don’t know why but they all leapt on him, and they started licking him and he was so happy. Of course, I had Walter shooting all of this. I got goosebumps right now. It was such a fantastic moment. He had all these beautiful dogs. We got great shots. It’s all about getting the great image.
VS: Could tell me about your work with Aretha Franklin?
MB: With Aretha, we had to – Andy rarely let us do something like this – I had to bring the photographer out to Detroit. Aretha was suffering from agoraphobia. She wouldn’t leave her house. We had to go to a Detroit suburb to photograph her in her house. I brought Albert Watson and his team. I think she had her own hair and makeup. I know she had her own hair because she did it with Spoolies, if you even know what Spoolies were. Andy wasn’t paying for hair and makeup to fly out there.
VS: Not really.
MB: They are little plastic, little rubber things that women put on their hair to make it them curl. She had a head full of them. You wrap the hair and then pull a rubber piece down over the hair to keep it in place till a comb out. She stayed in her kitchen having herself gotten together while eating a bucket of chicken. We weren’t offered any. I was in her living room laying on the floor watching TV with Albert, waiting.
We had clothes for her. She might have selected some stuff she wanted beforehand. Her big record then was, I think, Freeway of Love, when she sings about a pink Cadillac. I brought a little miniature, this big, pink Cadillac, with me as a gift for her. Somebody in the room put on Freeway of Love. She barrels out of the kitchen, and I got up and she and I started dancing together in her living room. There’s a picture of me and her together which is in the presentation today and I thought, “Oh my God, I’m dancing with Aretha Franklin in her living room to her music. That’s it, I’ve done it. I can go home now.” At the end of the day, we’re getting ready to leave, thanking her as she comes out of her bedroom. It was like a ranch style house. She had a small hallway with her padlocked bedroom at the end of the hall.
The hallway was lined with her gold records. As we marched by her, taking our leave, she stood at its entrance wearing a housecoat. One hand was holding up a piece of fried chicken, the other with a burning cigarette. As I passed by her, she looked at me, saw the look on my face and said, “This is the picture you really wanted, isn’t it?” I had no reply. I was trying so hard to take the image and keep it in my head forever. She burst out laughing, and I just said, “I’m not getting that picture, obviously.” That was it. She was fantastic.
All images and artwork © Marc Balet by permission
Acknowledgments by Victoria Surliuga:
This interview was made possible by The 1905 Fellowship that I was awarded by the Mount Holyoke College Alumnae Association.
I also acknowledge and thank Marc Balet for making his archival materials available and for sharing his remarkable life and work now on three occasions.
Selected Bibliography
Andy Warhol’s Fifteen Minutes. MTV, 1985-1987.
“Art Out: Marc Balet NFT Now, Pieter Hugo, and I Love You… Leave a Message.” Musée: Vanguard of Photography Culture, December 2, 2022.
Balet, Marc. “I Forget: A Memoir.” Musée: Vanguard of Photography Culture, May 5, 2023.
—–. “I Forget: A Memoir.” Musée: Vanguard of Photography Culture, January 24, 2023.
—–. “Here’s some stuff I did.” Tilt, Summer/Fall 2001 Edition, pp. 193-212.
—–. “I Cover Fran Lebowitz.” Interview, November 1980, p. 54. Also in: Interview: 50 Years. Assouline, 2019, p. 139.
—– (Concept/Creative Direction). The Class of Click. Edition Stemmle, 1999.
—–. “Fran Lebowitz.” Interview, October 1994, pp. 30–36.
—–. “Talking Summer.” Vogue, August 1991, pp. 168-172.
—–. Interview cover, December 1986.
—–. Interview cover, May 1982.
—–. “Fran on Fashion.” Interview, May 1980, p. 70.
—–. “I Cover Fran Lebowitz.” Interview, November 1979, p. 86.
—–. “Excerpt from the Dreamhouse Journal.” Architectural Design, vol. 43, issue 1, 1973, p. 2.
Bushnell, Candace. Four Blondes. Grove Press, 2007.
du Plessis, Johno. “Marc Balet.” Select, n. 16, 1986. No indication of page numbers.
Ertegun, Ahmet. What’d I Say: The Atlantic Story. Welcome Rain Publishers, 2001.
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Glueck, Grace. “Art: ‘Habitats,’ A Show by 21 at the Clocktower.” The New York Times, Section C, March 18, 1983, p. 23.
Goodman, Wendy. “Space of the Week: Up in the Air.” New York Magazine, July 11, 2013.
—–. “NoHo Split-Level.” House & Garden, vol. 163, issue 11, November 1991, pp. 150-155.
Goodman, Wendy and Liz Rowley. “The Enviable Loft Fran Lebowitz Never Liked.” New York Magazine, June 13, 2019.
Hackett, Pat, editor. The Andy Warhol Diaries. Warner Books, 1989.
Licht, Aliza. “Marc Balet on a Decade With Andy Warhol, Why Listening Is the Key to Great Work, and the Importance.” Leave Your Mark The Podcast, December 20, 2020.
Luther, Marylou. Be-Spoke: Revelations from the World’s Most Important Fashion Designers. Rizzoli, 2023.
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Ozzard, Janet. “Balet & Albert: The Ad Couple.” Women’s Wear Daily, July 23, 1993, p. 8.
Padilha, Mauricio and Roger Padilha. Gloss: The Work of Chris von Wangenheim. Rizzoli, 2015.
—–. Antonio Lopez: Fashion, Art, Sex, and Disco, Introduction by André Leon Talley. Rizzoli, 2012.
Pretend It’s a City. Directed by Martin Scorsese, Netflix, 2021.
Public Speaking. Directed by Martin Scorsese, American Express Portraits, Consolidated Documentaries, and Sikelia Productions, 2010.
Pysh, Clara. “Architecture: The Tree House by Marc Balet.” Musée: Vanguard of Photography Culture, June 9, 2022.
Seckler, Valerie. “Q&A with Marc Balet.” Women’s Wear Daily, April 29, 2009, p. 10.
—–. “Th(e) Influencer’s Artful Connection with Consumers.” Women’s Wear Daily, July 26, 2006, pp. 10-11.
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L’articolo An interview with Marc Balet on his work in architecture, design, publishing, and with celebrity culture proviene da ytali..
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