Rachel Chandler?
There's a tangential Rothschilds connection here, by the way, because Nicky Hilton ended up marrying James Rothschild and Rachel used to party with all of them.
One thing you guys have missed is that she has a much deeper connection to the occult artist Marina Abramovic than I've seen documented so far.
Some links you might find interesting:
Rachel is the primary photographer for an artist named Terence Koh, who frequently collaborates with Abramovic. Here, he's in a death pose on a piece of hers: http:// purple.fr/diary/terence-kohon-a-work-by-marina-abramovic-at-a-collectors-house-east/ Another photo of the same set: http:// purple.fr/diary/terence-kohon-a-work-by-marina-abramovic-at-the-collectors-house-east/
A video from a MoMA party: https:// www.youtube.com/watch?v=zPPKj99ZV60YouTube List of attendees: "Those in attendance included Madonna, Mary-Kate Olsen, Yoko Ono, James Franco, Lou Reed, Patti Smith, Chloe Sevigny, Penn Badgely, Padma Lakshmi, Rose Byrne, Kim Cattrall, Lucy Liu, Marina Abramovic, Daphne Guinness, Terence Koh, Andrej Pejic, Leelee Sobieski, Cindy Sherman, Agnes Gund, Katharina Sieverding, Rachel Chandler, Michelle Harper, David Rockefeller, Jr., MoMA's Director Glenn Lowry, Volkswagen's Martin Winterkorn, and Director of MoMA PS1 and MoMA's Chief Curator at Large Klaus Biesenbach."
Rachel was a photographer/attendee at Marina Abramovic's 2010 "The Artist is Present" performance at the MoMA http:// www.patrickmcmullan.com/site/event_detail.aspx?eid=32454 (look for her name on the left-hand list of Featured People and use the filter function)
This is the one I think you might find the most interesting, and I'm surprised this hasn't been delved into before. Abramovic gave a very controversial performance at the LA MoCA that involved a kind of pseudo/ritualized cannibalism of a female body, and Rachel was present as well. https:// www.artforum.com/diary/id=29517
The prospect of this “grotesque spectacle,” the outraged Rainer wrote, reminded her not of Abramović’s The Artist Is Present, the performance empress’s three-month-long sit at the Museum of Modern Art last year, or of her Nude with Skeleton from 2002, but of Pier Paolo Pasolini’s 1975 film Salò, where fascist sadists sexually abuse beautiful youths. “Subjecting her performers to public humiliation at the hands of a bunch of frolicking donors is yet another example of the Museum’s callousness and greed, and Ms Abramović’s obliviousness to differences in context and to some of the implications of transposing her own powerful performances to the bodies of others,” Rainer wrote, suggesting that MoCA rename itself “MODFR, or the Museum of Degenerate Fund Raising.”
Inside, all thought of exploitation quickly faded, as the 769 guests, who included California governor Jerry Brown and Los Angeles mayor Antonio Villaraigosa as well as Beecroft, took their seats before the rotating heads and nudes-with-skeletons and dug into their food unfazed. (It was delicious.) Some people did hold the gaze of the heads; others winked and elicited forbidden giggles.
John Baldessari and Meg Cranston seemed pleased to be seated ringside, where half-naked and very buff pallbearers periodically mounted the catwalk-like stage carrying a shrouded body on a bier. After her final number, two more shrouded bodies were brought onstage. Under them was dessert: two eerily lifelike cakes fashioned to look like Abramović and Harry by LA’s Rosebud Cakes and Raphael Castoriano’s Kreëmart organization. Wielding lethal-looking knives, Abramović joined Harry to cut out the hearts of each of their cakes to a shouting, astonished crowd.
Chaos followed, as guests fought over pieces cut by the bare-chested pallbearers. “I want the breast! Give me the vagina!” they screamed, hardly noticing that Tilda Swinton had arrived for photo ops, looking very much like David Bowie in his Thin White Duke phase. When it was all over, the cut-up cakes resembled mutilated bodies that made for a ghoulish sight.
A man I didn’t know accosted me. “Is it me or was this all about violence against women?” he asked. “It’s you,” I said. “Look at that cake!” he exclaimed. “It’s a horribly mutilated woman with knives in her chest. Doesn’t that bother you?” “It’s a cake,” I said. “It represents all the indignities women have suffered at the hands of men. It is women telling their own history.” Apparently, the point was lost on him. “It’s disgusting,” he replied. I asked his name, which he declined to give. “I’m in the social register!” he growled, brushing past me to let Deitch know that this violence against women would result in the withdrawal of funding from the museum.