Finding Andy

by Michael Forrester

            He’s not there.  I look in the reflective surfaces of Silver Clouds, the camouflage of Joseph Beuys, and he’s not there.  Strapped into an Electric Chair or pasted flat against the Mao wallpaper, I can’t find him.  Was it his hand that signed the Mick Jagger?  Or lassoed Annie Oakley in neon?  I can’t tell. He’s not in the Brillo box, or even a distraction at the Birmingham Race Riots.  The work by another (Charles Lutz) disguised as his own offers no more information about Andy.  I look for him in the eyes of others, but their affected poses bear no witness.  Maybe he’s trapped somewhere beyond the frame, behind the camera.  In the Polaroid stares, the flashbulb moments, Andy is missing.

            The absence leaves me cold.  But then I sense a presence in the faces of Edie Sedgwick and Lou Reed.  The Screen Tests are a flicker of life.  The silent, black and white films show the ingénue and the rocker in the Factory spotlight, motionless, fixed in a gaze.  Where is Andy?  The role of the artist is succeeded by technology; these two may as well have been alone.  Their performances for the camera, equally searching (Edie) and penetrating (Lou), capture the viewer’s attention.  I was reminded of artist Marina Abramovic’s staged interactions (The Artist Is Present, MOMA, 2010) and the emotional responses produced by intimate looking.  Is this sustained connection what Andy was seeking?  Hidden behind the Queen, was Andy longing for this kind of intimacy?

            I’ll never know.  His persona was so well cultivated, so guarded, that the real Andy Warhol doesn’t exist for me.  And perhaps it’s none of my concern.  In the present culture of magnified exposure, gluttonous reveal, and unashamed selfies, is there any room for a man like Andy Warhol? 

Dear Andy (Ex-Superstar) Warhol

by Watson McGough

The words “it’s not you, it’s me” are, undeniably, some of the most dreaded to hear in any relationship.  This phrase marks the beginning of a conversation that ushers in the ending of an affair—much like the affair between today’s viewer and the works of Andy Warhol the Pop artist, public legend and, by his own descriptor, ex-superstar. While watching the onlookers at the opening of Warhol: Fabricated, as they strolled in groups, troops, pairs or singles through its three rooms, one could not help but notice the strange and unexpected presence of what can only be described as absence—an absence of that electric spark which, for years, has been synonymous with Pop culture’s zeal for Warhol (or should I say Warhol’s zeal for Pop culture?). Not unlike the footage of his darling dupe, Edie Sedgwick, staring innocuously at the camera, her bulbous lips sagging slightly, the viewers’ display of lackluster love could be read much the same as gazing upon live versions of Warhol’s black and white screen tests. Both audience and art were detached, disengaged and strikingly silent. Could such behavior be testament to the unraveling of romance between contemporary society and artist? To even posit this question is, in itself, an affirmation of a declining preoccupation with what preoccupied the generations before: their icons. Celebrity icons from the 1960s to 1980s, a main staple in Warhol imagery, are no longer the same icons for today’s visual culture. The vapid air of Edie Sedgwick stardom has been replaced by the profound and deeply moving performances of educated starlets such as Emma Watson or Natalie Portman. Elizabeth Taylor’s love affair with diamonds is now surpassed by the present-day love affairs between the public and Hollywood juggernauts like Angelina Jolie. Perhaps this break-up letter should read as follows: “Dear Andy Warhol, it’s not you, it’s us. We are no longer in love with your celebrity or your (ex) superstars.”

You, Too, Can Become a Superstar

by Joan Inman

“Who is that?” a man whispered to his companion as he pointed to a photograph, eagerly examining the wall labels for a name he hoped to recognize. “I remember that character,” the woman responded with an air of confidence, “they were very popular years ago. Could you imagine seeing yourself in one of these images? It’s entirely possible.” Eavesdropping on the pair’s conversation, the woman’s statement resonated with me because it was completely true. Warhol unabashedly celebrated the phenomenon of celebrity culture, where being “famous” is often only a matter of being present at the right time and place. With a flash of the camera, you too could have your fifteen minutes of fame.

There are many undeniably memorable features of this exhibition, including the precise replicas of his infamous silver balloons that greet you upon entrance, the vibrant colors that radiate from Warhol’s artworks set against lustrously rich hues of wallpapered and painted walls, and the eerily fashionable manner in which screen shots of Lou Reed’s and Edie Sedgwick’s blank expressions stare back at you, into your soul, as you exit the gallery. But the most striking aspect was the way that hordes of people formed around the wall of Warhol’s black and white monochromatic photographs of people—displayed in a format that denies any sense of hierarchy—hoping to discover celebrity.

I Don't Know Andy Warhol

by Patrick Parks

The first thought that struck me when I laid eyes on the Warhol screen prints of Native Americans, rock stars, and celebrities was: these are not soup cans or Coke bottles. Since I walked into the exhibit thinking I knew Andy Warhol, it was unsettling to realize I was actually enjoying Warhol's work not for its content, but for its beautiful bold lines of color and refined, simplified human forms. The most interesting aspect of his screen prints is his quirky and creative use of color in relation to the images of cowboys, President Nixon, and Marilyn Monroe, all mediated with dynamic line variation and an impressive line confidence. I then thought how it was so ironic that the Warhol that I had expected from was not the Andy Warhol I was meeting. It seemed that pop culture got the last laugh by creating a 'Warhol' out of Andy Warhol. History has reduced his art to a conceptual essence that did not clearly represent the artist I was seeing, a different entity that the caricature of what people wanted Andy Warhol to be or what people wanted his artwork to mean.  The exhibition catalyzed my desire to understand his aesthetic choices and to appreciate his skill at creating engaging imagery. It lead me to believe that even with a character as seemingly transparent as Andy Warhol’s, the experience of encountering his art can change one’s understanding and appreciation of it.   

We're All in Warhol's World

by MK Carr

It's safe to say Warhol has made one of the largest impacts on the contemporary art world, and being able to see a collection of his works is quite a profound experience. Upon entering the gallery guests are greeted by the cheerful expression of a cow in vivid pink and yellow. This cow is a typical Warhol, taking the iconic face of Borden Milk and placing her in a way that extends the viewer’s mind beyond the product to consumerism more broadly. Prints such as Sitting Bull show the same vivid color as Warhol’s renowned Marilyn Monroe images and even the cows, but somehow the solemn expression of the American Indian exudes a presence all of his own. Having Native American ancestry and a love for all things tribal, Warhol’s Cowboys and Indian prints intrigued me the most, every wrinkle on Sitting Bull’s face telling a story of the trials of the American Indian. In the final gallery, Warhol’s Brillo boxes [by Charles Lutz, not Warhol] further bring a “larger than life” feel not to a celebrity or influential race, but to an everyday object, once again reinforcing Warhol’s oft-known theme of consumerism.

Warhol: Man of Fame & Color

by  Anonymous

 Against the white walls I see blocks of bright colors, faint black contour lines of peoples’ faces, silver-like pillows floating on the ceiling and a wall completely covered in flashy wallpaper. … I have just walked into Warhol: Fabricated. My first impression of Warhol was like many others’— a man who set out to become famous for his artwork and to create a plethora of it! This exhibition altered my opinion of him as a person and as an artist, because I finally had an opportunity to see more than just soup cans! Really, there are some memorable works in the show! ‘Kachina Dolls’, a screen print of two dolls that originate from the ancestral spirits of the Pueblo Indians, was refreshing and exciting as it revealed something deeper…something aside from popular imagery. However, I thoroughly enjoyed getting to see the celebrity prints in person. I hold a great appreciation for Warhol as an artist and find his determination to be an inspiration. As I made my way around the show I ended up staring at a wall full of photographs and two videos of screen tests that were set to loop. These were compelling in a way that made you feel closer to Andy Warhol, his personal life, and maybe even the people in the images. The strange yet powerful videos, featured a man and a woman: Lou Reed and Edie Sedgwick. They had been filmed in close-up, simply just sitting there, their faces barely moving. This was a fascinating way to put portraiture into pop art.  Overall, the Andy Warhol exhibition at UAB really opened my eyes up to what pop art truly was. The bright colors and huge walls covered in Warhol’s wallpaper gives the show a wondrous charm. I would recommend anyone to go experience it for themselves!

The One That Almost Consumed Me

by Donnell J.

Before attending the Warhol: Fabricated exhibition, I assumed Warhol did only bright, vivid screen prints of everyday items and famous people, dead and alive. I thought he just woke up and got lucky with his work after many failed projects. Then I was greeted with his silver balloons, Silver Clouds. I wish I could have seen the ‘originals’. Many of the Warhols in the exhibition were gifted to UAB by the Warhol Foundation. My favorite was the Electric Chair screen print. I almost felt consumed by its “emptiness.” According to the Walker Art Center website, Warhol’s inspiration came from New York’s last two executions by electric chair, whereupon “capital punishment was banned in the United States from 1963-1997.” I found that I appreciate most Warhol’s works that are inspired by events from history.  

A Different Kind of Warhol

by Starla O.

Having never really been a fan of Andy Warhol’s “usual” work, the Warhol: Fabricated exhibition at UAB’s AEIVA offers a different array of items that could easily change one’s mind (e.g., no Campbell soup cans, no Liz Taylors, and only one Marilyn). And for that reason, I was instantly intrigued. The most eye-catching piece is the Silver Clouds installation. I was fascinated by the simplicity of the piece, as well as the ability to recreate an exact replica of Warhol’s original.  The silver balloons are about half the size of a person and lightly float throughout the room, hitting each other and their viewers. The metallic color of the balloons offers a subtle surprise. While the metallic color is normally associated with heavy objects, the balloons are as light as air and highly sensitive to the slightest touch. Despite the large size of the balloons and the metallic color, they offer a delicate and calming quality. With the balloons floating in the air, interacting with each other and the viewers, they create a playful nature, and defy the “definition” of art.  The “clouds” are created from a material called Scotchpak created by 3M. It is a heat-sealable material that is filled with helium. Silver Clouds was first shown in April of 1966 at the Leo Castelli Gallery.