Did Andy Warhol Really Send a Dick Pic to the Moon? (Spoiler Alert: Yes!)
Updated: 4 hours ago
We all know about the historical moment when Neil Armstrong stepped onto the lunar surface and delivered his legendary line. But did you know that, shortly afterwards, the moon also became home to the universe’s smallest—and cheekiest—art museum? That's right; since November 1969, our silvery satellite has hosted a miniature collection that includes a distinctly naughty drawing by pop art legend Andy Warhol. But before you grab your moon boots and head off in search of artistic culture, let's dive into this brilliantly bizarre lunar tale.
Welcome to the Moon Museum (Sorry, No Gift Shop!)
Firstly, let's manage expectations: there’s no grandiose marble-floored gallery awaiting your footprints. Instead, this lunar art museum is a ceramic wafer no bigger than a postage stamp. But don’t dismiss it just yet—the roster of contributing artists could rival any big-city museum on Earth. We’re talking artistic giants: John Chamberlain, Forrest Myers, David Novros, Claes Oldenburg, Robert Rauschenberg and—wait for it—Andy Warhol himself. Not bad for an art museum roughly the size of your thumbnail.
Minimalism Meets Moon Landing (With One Naughty Warhol Exception)
Given its limited real estate, minimalism was key. Robert Rauschenberg chose a modest single line—clearly keeping the feng shui lunar-friendly. Abstract maestro David Novros gave us a black square criss-crossed by white lines, resembling some cosmic circuitry. Sculptor Chamberlain also opted for geometric circuitry, perhaps anticipating future lunar Wi-Fi. Claes Oldenburg left his signature, which oddly resembled an early Mickey Mouse doodle (we won’t judge).
As for Myers—the mastermind behind this loony lunar stunt—he added a tasteful linked symbol. But then, there's Warhol. Andy, ever the playful provocateur, decided against subtlety. His contribution? A stylised signature that is, let's be brutally honest here, unmistakably a penis. Yes, Andy Warhol literally sent the first dick pic to space. Move over Armstrong, Warhol also took one small doodle for man, one giant giggle for mankind.
An Unsanctioned Moon Mission—The Art of Smuggling
If you're picturing an official ceremony with NASA suits politely applauding Warhol's creative phallus, you're sadly mistaken. NASA neither sanctioned nor approved the quirky gallery. Myers, having dreamt of lunar artistry for ages, repeatedly reached out to NASA only to receive the cold shoulder. NASA neither confirmed nor denied—a classic governmental response.
Determined to take matters into his own artistic hands, Myers sought insider connections. Enter Experiments in Art and Technology (E.A.T.), a non-profit co-founded by Rauschenberg, dedicated to pairing artists with engineers. Via E.A.T., Myers met Fred Waldhauer from Bell Labs, an enthusiastic partner who introduced the genius wafer-sized concept. They secretly manufactured sixteen wafers (or twenty, depending on whose memory you trust). One wafer was destined for Apollo 12; the others became arty souvenirs (one proudly resides at MOMA today—penis drawing and all).
Waldhauer cunningly connected Myers to a friend at Grumman, the engineering firm behind Apollo 12's lander. A secret handshake, a discreet nod, and voilà —the wafer was smuggled aboard, hidden between the gold thermal insulation pads destined to be abandoned on the moon's surface. But how did Myers know the art gallery had safely boarded the spaceship?
Two days before Apollo 12 lifted off, Myers got the telegram he'd been hoping for from Cape Canaveral:
"YOUR ON' A.O.K. ALL SYSTEMS GO.JOHN F."
Who was John F.? Why couldn't he spell "You're"? These mysteries are eclipsed by the wonder of lunar Warholian anatomy.
Did the Moon Museum Really Make It?
Even after the Apollo 12 astronauts triumphantly splashed back down to Earth, doubts lingered. Did the tiny wafer truly make it to the moon? Perhaps it landed face-down, denying future lunar visitors the unique experience of seeing Warhol's cheeky masterpiece. Maybe it fell victim to a cosmic property crisis, lunar gentrification pushing our little museum to relocate to Mars or some trendy asteroid belt neighbourhood.
Sadly, unless astronauts land precisely at Apollo 12’s original spot and bravely sift through discarded insulation pads for a tiny ceramic wafer, we’ll never really know. It might forever be the greatest museum you'll never visit, a tiny artistic joke permanently orbiting our imagination.
So next time you gaze up at the moon, think fondly about that microscopic museum up there—art, mischief, and a signature Warhol phallus, boldly going where no genital doodle has gone before.