The photograph moves me; not because it is sad, not because it shows something horrific, or how the world is a bad place, but because it shows dead people dressed in the clothing of an era which is no longer. They are famous people, people who took art and what it means to be an artist to a different height, a zenith, some would say, in that they said nothing at all.

The photograph shows artefacts of life that do not breathe, they do not smell; it is a replica of life. And because they are in the photograph they are an imitation, and so you want to fill them with meaning. Art must have meaning, you think, and so while they are impassive these people in the photograph, you believe that they are also filled with wistfulness, they are dreaming. No matter how hard they try to be hard, how they try to be the artefact of their own creation, they are unable to do this because they really are wistful, they must dream of something other than themselves.

But actually no, they did just want to famous, even if only for 15 minutes, they did want to be consumed and spat out; they are art, as you are art. Art is billboards, soup cans, Hollywood stars and electric chairs. Art is right there in front of you, a postcard of this photograph on the kitchen fridge.

There are five people in this photograph. Three of them are men, one is a clearly woman and one of them could be either male or female, but you know that she is she, an androgynous her.

This is the Velvet Underground, plus Nico.

Nico, the vocalist, you have since found out that her name is Christa Paffgen, is wearing a pant suit, she is dressed entirely in white but for her shirt and scarf. The jacket and the trousers are white, underneath this whiteness is a black and white striped shirt, and around her neck is a black and white scarf. At her neck a small amount of skin shows through, there is a V, the part where the shirt buttons up to where the scarf is tied. The scarf has a tail; it is on the left of the white skin of her neck. The neck is beautiful, strangle-able.

Nico has long blonde hair, but because the picture is black and white you are unable to discern what colour her eyes are, they may be blue, they probably are blue for her hair is blonde and her skin is light and you know that she is of German origin. As your eye travels down, as you look past her face, you notice that her hands are clasped, one over the other, and her legs are crossed one over the other, both on the same side; the right side. She is holding something; something close to the photographer, but she will not reveal what it is. Then as you look up at her face you notice that her eyes are closed, not actually closed, but closed to the photographer. She shows him nothing except her vacancy. My art, she seems to say, is devoid of anything that can be called meaning, when I sing you do not know what it is I sing about, you cannot be sure that I am even singing, I do not sing words, I sing sounds (with a strong German accent). She probably said this an hour after the photograph was taken for you know that she was not given to talkativeness, stories are legion that if Nico was asked a question the reply would come some while later; hours, days or even weeks. But her eyes tell you, what she will, should she be asked, express: we are adverts.

(Nico: Hi Andy.

Andy: Oh, hi.

Nico: Andy.

Andy: Hmmmm

Nico: I …

Andy: What?

Nico: I thought ….

Andy: What were you saying Nico?

Nico: Nothing.)

Around her left wrist is a bracelet, a gold bracelet, and on the left hand, the fifth finger of the left hand, is a silver ring. They glitter.

Andy Warhol faces slightly to the left, he is close to Nico, but not so close that there may be a bond; he does not look at her, you do not know where he looks for he is wearing dark glasses.

Is the sun shining?

Andy wears dark glasses at night.

The photograph was taken in Los Angeles, maybe the sun was shining that day. And it is daytime, it is not night.

Andy is dressed for the cold New York winter. His dark jacket is either leather or corduroy, actually you know it is leather, for this was his trademark, a leather jacket and dark glasses, but in the photograph it could be corduroy. Underneath this he wears a grey shirt. His neck is visible as he does not wear a scarf. He wears black pointed boots, Chelsea boots, they all wear Chelsea boots even Nico wears them. The only lightness that is visible is his skin, and his hair, or his not hair for he was known to wear a wig. Although if you look closely it does not appear to be a wig, maybe it is, it is just a better wig than that which he often wears, it looks natural, as if hair is growing from his scalp.

Why does this hair need to be his hair?

Is the organic and the authentic important, significant, valuable? Andy is the king of inauthenticity, this is his art, this is what he told the world; there is nothing beneath the surface, the visible is valuable, far more valuable than the invisible. This is why we can all be art.

Andy stares at the camera; he is, after all, the centrepiece, the most important person in the picture.

Lou Reed is also in grey and black. He stares into the distance; he looks over Andy, in front of him, at something that is not Andy. His arms are crossed, he holds his truth close to his body and his Chelsea boots come up high. His trousers are tucked into his boots, as if they too need to be secure. His shirt, a T shirt, has a round neck and is striped horizontally. You have been told that horizontal stripes on a garment always make a person appear fatter than they actually are, vertical stripes do the opposite. But Lou does not look fat, he does not look thin either, he just looks to be the size of an average guy, not a guy who lives on amphetamine wafers. Lou also wears dark glasses.

All the men wear dark glasses.

Only the women do not wear dark glasses?

Art is visible; it should not hide as what lies beneath the art is of no value.

What is behind the dark glasses is of no value.

Who is Maureen Tucker, Mo? She stands behind Andy, nothing but her elfin face is perceptible, and her left leg. She is a drummer, the Velvet’s drummer, you cannot see whether her arms are muscular or not, they are hidden by Andy who stands in front of her. But if she is a drummer she probably does have thick muscled arms.

Who is Sterling Morrison? He grips the back of the chair on which John Cale sits. John has his left leg crossed over his right leg. A difference; Sterling, wears light coloured trousers, only now do you notice this, they are the colour of his white skin. Did he contribute to their fame, you do not know for he is a lesser member of the Velvet’s, lesser, only as you do know of him.

And John, he is disinterested in the others who surround him. He looks outside the photograph, a little to the right, his right hand lies across his right knee. On his left arm he wears a leather armband on which there are light coloured fleur de lis, he imagines that he is royalty. His left foot is cut off at the ankle, if you did not know this, you would imagine that he only has one foot, the right foot, for otherwise why would the left one not be shown.

John, Lou, Andy, Sterling, they all wear dark clothing. And so does Maureen, only her face is shown and one of her legs, the left leg. Nico is dressed in white.

They are on a patio, the floor is made up of white tiles; they are all standing except for John, who is seated in a metal chair, it has no cushion on it. It is rounded and possibly uncomfortable as the metal would be hard underneath an un-fleshed out buttocks, and John is not fat, he is thin, strung out thin.

Behind them is a glass plated door, in it a garden is reflected, some trees and shrubs, none of these are notable, only the faces of the people are memorable, they play in your mind for a long time. Inside the room, on the left, are some white metal structures, they could be part of a bookshelf or furniture or just another door.

You write a story about people who have no cares. Andy, Lou, Sterling, John Mo and Nico, they are not hungry; they do not want clothing, shelter or lovers.

They are famous, in 1966 very famous.

A song; speak and sing a word or two, where does it come from?

‘And the coloured girls go,

Doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo

Doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo

Doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo

Doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo

Doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo

Doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo

Doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo

She said, hey babe, take a walk on the wild side.

I said, hey honey, take a walk on the wild side.

And the coloured girls say …..