Michael Alig has been free from prison for four months. Having been sent away 17 years ago for the manslaughter, mutilation, and subsequent disposal of one time friend Angel Melendez over a drug debt, he has re-entered a starkly different world to that which he left.Leading up to this, Alig earned a reputation as the golden child at the centre of the Club Kids. Along with the likes of James St. James, Gitsie, “Freeze” Riggs and Superstar DJ Keoki, they transformed the New York party scene through extravagance and excess in both dress-sense and drug-taking.

Crowds flocked to the parties Alig threw — be they in a club, subway carriage, or McDonald’s — simply to witness and be a part of this experience. The exploits of the Club Kids have been documented in the 2003 commercial flop and cult favourite Party Monster, starring Macaulay Culkin, and the 1998 Shockumentary featuring interviews with Alig and others, which were recorded after the killing but before he was sentenced. Now living in the Bronx, he paints and is slowly adjusting to a somewhat quieter existence.

Having moved between several institutions whilst incarcerated, it was during this time that Alig first put brush to canvas: “Freeze suggested it might help stave off the incredible boredom. I had never painted before and it took a few years to sort of learn how to make something that was halfway presentable.” Although his work — which features portraits of Alig himself, obviously, alongside the likes of Amanda Lepore, Leigh Bowery, Clara the Carefree Chicken and Ketamine vials — has not yet been critically received; yet it appears to not be without interest or, at the very least, intrigue. Undoubtedly a presentation of his work to date will accumulate an audience of fans both past and present; those who once idolised and followed his troupe and the newly infatuated younger generations who draw on his image and eccentricity for their own self-expression, venerating through their loyal social media following. It may be difficult for just about anybody not to be fascinated by this figure who acquired fame, notoriety and ultimately a prison sentence for his hedonism and excess.

Vague on details, he mentions an exhibition of his work as being very much on the horizon and that he has been embargoed by galleries from selling pieces in order to keep them “new and fresh for the show”, slated for sometime in the late autumn. Such an exhibition might be seen as a sort of homecoming for Alig, whose return to New York was relatively subdued. He says it will be his first major event since his release and “one that I will be allowed to stay out late at, I think!” Such abstemiousness is a long way from the hectic life he once led, where nights would inevitably roll into days and on again into nights, sustained by a line, needle or pipe.

Given the narcotic-fueled experiences that Alig has amassed — and miraculously survived— it is perhaps unsurprising to learn that his paintings are largely or indeed “completely influenced by the drugs of the times”, a life of hedonism once lived and those who shared in this life with him. If his time on the party circuit was during the “glory days” of drugs and clubbing, he seems unconvinced that such a moment could ever be relived: “I don’t think it could ever happen again. Everyone is always saying ‘things are not the way they used to be’ — well, no, they’re not but they’re not supposed to be. In the 70s we didn’t want to live like we did in the 50s and today it should be no different.” However, perhaps Alig has not yet come to realise since being released just how disturbingly banal recreational drug use has become today and is more of a cultural reality than a cultural statement.

Alig goes on to muse on the role that hard partying plays in art creation. Rather recklessly, he suggests a pseudo-proviso that “drugs and booze and creativity go hand-in-hand because they allow a person to become uninhibited… more of who they truly are. It is why nightclubs are so important, as they provide forums where new ideas can be expressed in an uninhibited environment… like little laboratories where new concepts are brainstormed over booze and drugs.” The alternative, a world without nightclubs, would see “the music and fashion industries suffer and stagnate”, he claims.

With Alig back in New York for the first time in 17 years, the city has undoubtedly changed. For one, he says, although it will remain an important component of the art world, it is no longer the centre of the zeitgeist that  it once was in the 1980s and 90s, when it was both home and studio to epoch-defining figures such as Basquiat, Haring and Warhol. Alig seems keenly and rightly aware that this dulled shine is the result of an increasingly connected, diffuse and globalised art world, “It’s not that NYC is no longer fabulous or the centre of it all. It’s that there is nocentre of it all anymore because of the internet and instant this and that. A scene cannot develop because it is now assimilated instantly by the masses.” His point is valid. Today, myriad digital social platforms facilitate the consumption and dissemination of cultural objects and events without the need for referencing a specific geo-political place, opening up traditional art centres like New York.

Alig, who first moved to New York from Indiana to study at Fordham before dropping out, reckons it’s also not as supportive to young creatives as it once was, “There is no such thing anymore of the young kid coming from Idaho with $300 in his pocket and a dream to make it big in NYC. You have to have a lot of money to live here and generally people with a lot of money are not great artists because they have not suffered. NYC is now filled with rich kids who don’t know the meaning of suffering.”

Is it reasonable to consider Alig and the Club Kids’ after hours antics as a form of art in itself? There was certainly an element of performance to them which could be recognised as an effort to raise society’s consciousness about aspects of American culture. Alig says, “The whole point of going out dressed in a certain way was to make a statement, which is sort of what performance art is. You go out dressed as an accident victim and it looks funny, but it is also making a comment on the voyeurism of American culture — the way we stop looking at things that shock us. We went out dressed as little children in diapers and it satirised the American obsession with youth and never wanting to grow up. We were satirising the notion of fame and the idea that some are more deserving than others.”

Looking at Alig now, this compulsion to satirise has never went away. Airbrushed beyond recognition on the Twilight-inspired cover of his upcoming EP What’s In, he looks like the generous result of a face swap between himself, Robert Pattinson and Taylor Lautner, both of whom are at least 20 years Alig’s junior. Perhaps this itself is his comment on “selfie culture” and the unrealistic ideals typically pursued. Judging by the teaser released on Soundcloud, the music itself has definite youth appeal if the lyrics are to be believed (“I know what the kids all like”),  sounding like something released by a Lady Gaga Fame-era drag impersonator or a runner up from RuPaul’s Drag Race.

Attesting to this, it is critical to remember that this cohort garnered press coverage, media appearances and renown by virtue of just being, albeit being in an unrelentingly high, loud and elaborately costumed manner. Indeed, Alig — inadvertently, depending on which side of the defense one stands — went a step further, galvanising his notoriety. One may find it difficult to pinpoint exactly where, if anywhere at all, the Club Kids’ talent legitimately lay. But in many respects this simply preempts today’s culture whereby fame, even for a mere fifteen minutes, is always seen as within reach regardless of the means and measures employed to achieve it, and which so often border on desperation.

In terms of lessons learned whilst behind bars, Alig says, “there’s something about spending five years in solitary confinement that will teach you how to become patient. Everyone notices it about me now, they’re saying things like ‘oh my God, you’re actually listening to what I’m saying and not trying to constantly butt in and talk over me!’ When I went to prison I was an extremely self-centered person… seriously, it’s a wonder anyone was ever my friend. I was such a monster.”

Photo by Steve Eichner (1993).