In each of three successive spaces called the Factory, Andy Warhol created movies, paintings, time capsules and psychosexual dramas with a half-life of many decades. Here his collaborators recall the places, the times and the man.

 

Concealed behind the pasty mask, the trademark fright wig and the impassive expression Andy Warhol showed to the world was a man of roiling complexities. Depending on who does the talking, Warhol was either an emotional vampire draining vital juices from the animated nut-jobs he gathered to him or a kindly, if slightly creepy, avuncular figure whose motives have been misunderstood.