Few twentieth century artists have
garnered such commercial popularity and critical respect as has Andy Warhol. In
the Metropolitan Museum’s retrospective, Regarding Warhol: Sixty Artists,
Fifty Years at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, Warhol’s visual authority is
explored in a display of the influence that he may have had on both his
contemporaries and artists decades since. Broken down into five major
themes—Daily News, Portraiture, Queer Studies, Consuming Images and No
Boundaries, the exhibit finds its strength not just in its content of Warhol’s
own work, but in the way it showcases of other important artists of our time
that perhaps haven’t gained similar recognition.
Exploring a darker side of Warhol
that was often overlooked underneath fluorescent palettes and banal subject
matter, the exhibit provided insight into how pop-art pieces, specifically of
the ‘60s, functioned to bring attention toward issues of equality, freedom of
speech and corporate abuse. Hans Haacke makes a strong showing with his oversized
Helmsboro cigarettes. Warholian in his use of an everyday
product to convey political or social propaganda, the carton was a protest to
Senator Jesse Helms’ limiting the display of controversial art. With $600,000
accepted from Philip Morris to sponsor the Bill of Rights, Haacke superimposed
Helms’ photo over the Marlboro logo to show the irony of the government promoting
freedom of speech while at the same time suppressing creative expression.
“I wanted everyday people, not superstars
because that was what Andy was doing,” reads Chuck Close’s Philip Glass
portrait label. But while some artists such as
Chuck admit to being directly referencing Warhol, a big issue that comes into
consciousness mid-exhibit is the designation of Warhol as the influencer versus
the influenced. Alex Katz presents an interesting case in this thread of
inquiry with his Lita portrait. With the socialite Lita Hornick depicted
against a solid blue background, facial features diminished to flattened
planes, the artist claims Warhol stole the latter’s signature portraiture style.
With such significant players featured in Regarding Warhol, it does seem
a little misleading to clump such a notable group of artists as followers
rather than trendsetters themselves.
Beyond Warhol’s Campbell soup cans,
multiple Jackies and color-blocked Maos, it is his 16mm films that gave
visitors a better understanding of his motivations as an artist. His
four-minute Screen Tests of significant players in the art scene and the
eight-hour documentation of the Empire State Building from night to day brings
forth the artist’s role as an observer and his obsessive interest in voyeurism.
It was this constant drive to capture moments in time and his fascination with what
lies beneath the surface that allowed his work to ultimately earn an
immeasurable audience.
By the end of the exhibition, the
viewer gets the feeling that perhaps some connections were too far stretched,
such as screens playing episodes of MTV’s Real World and The
Osbournes. Citing the artist’s desire to create his own “Nothing Special”
television show, the allusion that he paved the way for reality television,
while probably not entirely untrue in some regard, felt all together too
forced.
Whether the exhibit convincingly
relays its message of the Warhol influence on all of the work is up for debate,
but while in the magenta and chartreuse lined walls bearing his famous Cow
Wallpaper print, the biggest point to Warhol’s work becomes crystal clear.
Bid goodbye by Lou Reed’s vocals, Silver Clouds floating aimlessly, one
walks away with the realization that beyond the propaganda and social
commentary, Warhol’s art was simply meant to be experienced.
