In the early 80's I went through a Warhol phase, not surprisingly, given that I was studying printmaking in my freshman year of college. Actually, it wasn't so much Andy that I was enamored of as it was Edie, his mid 60's muse. Jean Stein's amazing book "Edie: An American Biography" had just come out in 1982 and I devoured it. Edie was the perfect fashion icon, 60's mod New York personified. To this day I still adore Edie, in spite of her tragic, drug-fueled spiral to an ugly and far too early death.
Andy, while also an iconic figure in the pop art world, was more talented at marketing himself and his image than in creating his actual work. It's now believed that others in the Factory did the work for him, while he merely wandered about the canvases asking his lackies what they thought would look best. I'm not sure if this is entirely true or not, but that said, he was a unique individual who turned the art world on its ear. He was long past his prime when I met him not too long before his (also early) death.
I think it was 1985 when I went to a book signing at the Boston Public Library at which he made a rare personal appearance with the 'ordinary people'. The place was mobbed, but not as much as I had anticipated, given the resurgence of Andy-mania courtesy of the reincarnation of Edie's star. I had him sign a couple of his art books and one of his entourage was surprised to see a photo of Andy that I had with me, as it had been taken by him many years before and he wondered where and how I had gotten my hands on it (I only vaguely remember the photograph and I sure as hell all these years later have no clue where I had gotten it). After a brief chat with the photographer (as Andy said not a word), I made my way out of the room and out of the crush of people waiting behind me. The whole experience lasted only a few moments and then it was over.
Being rather young, I had brought my mother with me, and after the brief meeting with Andy, she had gone upstairs to the library office to get a replacement library card. Being a big and busy city library this took some time and while she was off getting her card, I waited alone in the empty upstairs foyer outside the office. It took what seemed like forever, and apparently it did take awhile, because while I waited for my mother the autograph signing had ended. Looking out a big window I could see all the people spilling out of the doors and onto the sidewalk below me.
As I turned from the windows, my mother called to me from the next room and as I turned to face her direction, while we spoke I kept walking backwards in the direction I had been moving in. As I spun around to face forward again, I slammed into Andy who had been walking backwards talking to a member of his extensive entourage and had also only just begun to spin back around to face forward again as well. We smashed into one another and both of us dropped the things we had been carrying. I apologized, he sort of apologized, and I took a moment to tell him how much I admired him which embarrassed the hell out of him, made him stammer for a moment, hurriedly thank me and then rush off with his people.
It was surreal at best and over very quickly, but that day left an indelible impression on me. It brought briefly to life a period in time that I so wish I had been old enough to have experienced: the art, the fashion, the social statements of the iconic mid 1960's.
Andy, while also an iconic figure in the pop art world, was more talented at marketing himself and his image than in creating his actual work. It's now believed that others in the Factory did the work for him, while he merely wandered about the canvases asking his lackies what they thought would look best. I'm not sure if this is entirely true or not, but that said, he was a unique individual who turned the art world on its ear. He was long past his prime when I met him not too long before his (also early) death.
I think it was 1985 when I went to a book signing at the Boston Public Library at which he made a rare personal appearance with the 'ordinary people'. The place was mobbed, but not as much as I had anticipated, given the resurgence of Andy-mania courtesy of the reincarnation of Edie's star. I had him sign a couple of his art books and one of his entourage was surprised to see a photo of Andy that I had with me, as it had been taken by him many years before and he wondered where and how I had gotten my hands on it (I only vaguely remember the photograph and I sure as hell all these years later have no clue where I had gotten it). After a brief chat with the photographer (as Andy said not a word), I made my way out of the room and out of the crush of people waiting behind me. The whole experience lasted only a few moments and then it was over.
Being rather young, I had brought my mother with me, and after the brief meeting with Andy, she had gone upstairs to the library office to get a replacement library card. Being a big and busy city library this took some time and while she was off getting her card, I waited alone in the empty upstairs foyer outside the office. It took what seemed like forever, and apparently it did take awhile, because while I waited for my mother the autograph signing had ended. Looking out a big window I could see all the people spilling out of the doors and onto the sidewalk below me.
As I turned from the windows, my mother called to me from the next room and as I turned to face her direction, while we spoke I kept walking backwards in the direction I had been moving in. As I spun around to face forward again, I slammed into Andy who had been walking backwards talking to a member of his extensive entourage and had also only just begun to spin back around to face forward again as well. We smashed into one another and both of us dropped the things we had been carrying. I apologized, he sort of apologized, and I took a moment to tell him how much I admired him which embarrassed the hell out of him, made him stammer for a moment, hurriedly thank me and then rush off with his people.
It was surreal at best and over very quickly, but that day left an indelible impression on me. It brought briefly to life a period in time that I so wish I had been old enough to have experienced: the art, the fashion, the social statements of the iconic mid 1960's.
No comments:
Post a Comment