Monday, January 25, 2010

Andy Warhol

So, there was a program on today about The Factory and Andy Warhol. I've been to the Warhol Museum in Pittsburgh. I've watched the millionth-part series on Andy Warhol on PBS. I've seen several of his films and many of his works. And I still think he's a mother fucker.

His artwork is great. I KNOW.

He had a way of getting people to converge. I KNOW.

He was a little geeky kid who blossomed into an American icon. I KNOW.

But none of these things made him a good person. In fact, I think, deep down inside, Andy Warhol was soulless. I don't get how he can spend every waking moment of the day with Edie Sedgwick (ironically, she died the very day I was born) only to appear emotionless and disinterested in her death. I don't understand why a person with great influence in the contemporary art scene might tell a newcomer that they are the next best thing only to forget who the fuck they are the next day. Andy Warhol hurt people. He used people. And they used him. It was a fucked up time. There was nothing magical about the Factory days as far as I can tell. Some great talent was born then, but it had to work its way through drug overdoses and shallowness and pretentiousness and people who silenced their humanity for the sake of being close to the great Andy Warhol. People who forgot about compassion and love, people who were motivated only by looks, status, jealousy and a selfish desire to be famous. It was a toxic place.

So, yeah, that's how I feel about Andy Warhol. He's not unlike most brilliant artists. Picasso was a dick, too. But I get so pissed when people talk about Warhol like he was some kind of god. He wasn't.


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