Playboy Pad: Art House

WHEN YOU PULL UP to the gates of Michel Comte's Mediterranean revival-style mansion in the hills above Sunset Boulevard in Los Angeles, it's impossible to find fault. Even the vintage Bentley in the circular drive seems not so much parked as curated; it is beluga-black, all the better to reflect the grand cypress-tree-flanked entrance and the gently burbling fountain. You might bump into a naked model by the pool. That's because Comte, who was born in Zurich, is a major fashion photographer and shoots many of his spreads at this estate.

A year ago, Comte opened the doors of this sun-drenched redoubt to 25-year-old itinerant street artist Alec Monopoly to use as his home and studio. By day this is where Monopoly (who, like the street artist Banksy, keeps his real name and identity secret) paints his pop art images of the Monopoly Man, Jack Nich­olson and Bob Dylan, which are collected by the likes of Robert De Niro and Seth Rogen. By night Monopoly descends into the city to plaster billboards and construction sites, using L.A. itself as his gallery. Join us on a rare tour of this high-low mash-up of an art house, courtesy of Comte's magical lens.

Inside L.A.'s contemporary Warholian Factory, genius and hedonism go hand in hand

Michel Comte's Beverly Hills house is the quintessen­tial retreat of a gentleman artist, melding a distinctly California vibe with clas­sic European style. Behind the stately stuccoed walls, Comte has filled the grand oak-paneled rooms with an eclectic world-class col­lection of art and iconic midcentury modern furni­ture. The house is a refuge designed to inspire —both for Comte and for graffiti artist Alec Monopoly. "Being surrounded by all this art is amazing," says Monopoly, seen at right painting one of his signature portraits. "I'll just wander the halls, and around every corner

of my heroes." Like Joan Miro, for example, and Alexander Calder.

While any high roller can buy a print of Warhol's Last Supper or one of his Marilyn Monroe images, Comte has the silk screens used to produce them (right and above right). "It's a crazy contrast," says Monop­oly. "I'll be out all night hitting downtown with my prints and bumping into homeless people having sex. Then I'll come here and forget I'm even in Los Angeles."

Two years ago, Monopoly was climbing through a garbage chute beneath a Manhattan hotel, elud­ing capture by the NYPD's vandal squad. Today he's ensconced in this Beverly Hills mansion, a self-styled Warhol descendant with mainstream gallery success. When he first moved to L.A. in 2009, he couch-surfed, gaining notoriety for his art and his unique style of guerrilla marketing. Then he met Comte, in

whose home he now lives and works. Monopoly says he used the Monopoly Man at first as a commentary on recent investment-banking scandals. "He repre­sented corporate greed and Bernie Madoff," he says. Monopoly has since produced images of the charac­ter behind DJ turntables and holding a spray-paint can. "I'm making fun of myself," he says. "Now the Monopoly Man has come to represent me."

Opposite page, clockwise from top left: Monopoly enjoys the company of a model (seen here spreading her wings) as he works on another butterfly paint­ing. Next to him are his portraits of Travis Bickle (Robert De Niro) from Taxi Driver, another example of how the artist melds pop culture into his work. Throughout the house, windows and doors open onto a view of the City of

Angels with its palm and cypress trees. Notice the white Eames chair, classic midcentury. Featured prominently in the study is the original screen Warhol used to print his Brando portrait from the film The Wild One. Nearby sits a rabbit sculpture created by the Japanese art­ist Momoyo Torimitsu (it would fit nicely in the Playboy Mansion). Above that, Monopoly is seen working on another

piece. While some street-art fans take issue with his nontraditional graffiti style, Monopoly is the first to admit to the pop nature of his work in an other­wise gritty corner of the art world. "The fact is most of the people who are going to see my work in the city aren't street-art fans," says Monopoly . "I just want normal people to be able to recognize and relate with the images."