Word: warhols
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...world, implying in the skeins of paint a web of pure energy, limitless and deep. Its yellows and pinks, its muted greens and blacks are autumnal; a pure buzz of nature's prodigious, generative force. And then, just one floor below, is this: a towering partition plastered with Warhol's hot pink and green wallpaper covered with cows' heads, like an advertisement for milk gone mad. On it, in clashing hues, is the artist's portrait of Elvis, gun drawn, off register, multiplied by four like a drunken vision. He stares you down, that famously curling lip, with...
With his ice-white wig and his freon-filled veins, Warhol and his deadpan cool spoke volumes about the new, acquisitive culture suddenly exploding in the '60s, buoyed by the youthful confidence of the Kennedys' Camelot. Yanked up in voltage and turned garishly hip, Warhol's iconic images of Jackie after J.F.K.'s murder, and his tabloid pictures of cars crashed and suicides, replaced dignity with glitz, marrying starstruck glamour to grisly death. Nothing since has seemed so electric and shallow, so perfect a mirror of what was happening to the state of America's spirit. The soulfulness of Pollock...
...simple to say that art ever after has followed trancelike in the acid-green aura of the Warhol Effect. The art roughly of the '70s, from Kent State through Watergate to the imperial rise of Reaganomics, reflected the seismic social shifts of the times. And what that churned up is seen in the show's kaleidoscope of imagery, ranging from a full-size mannequin of a rather worn-looking camel by Nancy Graves through documentary photos of Chris Burden after a self-inflicted gun wound to a film of Robert Smithson running along the rocky ground of his massive...
There was no lack of experiment and soul searching in these years. While Warhol was spinning out his sops to celebrities in sycophantic portraits and the swooning talkfests that filled his gossip sheet Interview, much of American art seemed largely earnest--as if it were a vast machine spitting out proof after proof of the solution to what art should mean as war, protest, the surge of feminism and the pulse of disco played themselves out on the nation's stage...
...less diverse, yet the mood had shifted. This was the Me decade of Julian Schnabel proclaiming his genius in front of anyone with a tape recorder, and Jean-Michel Basquiat, who managed to squeeze in all 15 minutes of his fame, literally following in Warhol's footsteps through strobe-lighted grottos like Studio 54 before drugs...