Ethan's 2nd grade class has been studying Andy Warhol... as if there was anything to really study about this weird-o. I remember doing a similar 2nd grade paper on Andy Warhol when I was a kid, too, but I'm scratching my head these days to answer the simply question, "Why?"
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| The Subject's Self-Portrait |
If and when I look like this guy, people ask me if I had a rough night's sleep or got into a fight with a cat. This guy, however, got away with it.
Nevertheless, Ethan was so impressed with the guy's rendition of the Campbell's soup cans that 90% of his conversations with us these past 2 weeks have been in regards to this "artist".
The first reason their class had been learning about him was because Warhol is/was a Pittsburgh native. I guess that is enough to dedicate several hours of discussion in a second grade class (my tax dollars at work, y'all). Second, he was supposedly the king of Pop Art, whatever that means. Ethan had to inform me that Pop Art meant "Popular Art", of course, yet again I didn't see what that really meant. But, I'm sure you'd recognize his work---
So there you go. People say there was a lot more to this guy, but I honestly can't see it. He painted a soup can (actually, he painted ALL of the Campbell's soup cans), did several of the same silk screens of famous people (he had a serious Marilyn Monroe fetish), and had weird hair. Twenty years after his death, people still talk about his "brilliance". He said he liked to capture images that people could instantly recognize (hence the soup can), but to me, I'd rather buy the can for 80-cents and save the million dollars, you know?
We had to purge Ethan's mind of Andy Warhol, though, because we couldn't take any more questions or discussions about him. It was Andy-this and Andy-that for 2 weeks. Something had to be done.
Living in Pittsburgh, it dawned on me that perhaps I could take Ethan to the Andy Warhol Museum, show him this guy's "work", and do my best to "close the door on Andy Warhol" once and for all. It was a long shot, at best. On the one hand, Ethan might really like what he sees at the museum, thus enhancing his interests (and discussions) about him. It could easy backfire.
It was a chance I was willing to take, so yesterday, we traveled the 20 miles to Pitt to visit the museum. I had to be strategic in my placement of Ethan within various rooms of the museum, of course. I anticipated risque art, his famous pieces, and some of the more "what-was-this-guy-thinking" art. I had to avoid the first, quickly scan the second, and dwell on the third. It was going to be hard, but I had to get Ethan to think, "What was I thinking??"
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| Andy Warhol mirroring my strategist face regarding our trip to his museum |
Entrance fees to this museum were $13 for me and $8 for Ethan, plus $6 to park. Yak. Instead, I opted for the Carnegie Museum membership that would get us into the other Carnegie buildings for the entire year... one of those happened to be this guy's museum. Cost: $130 for the year. I figured I'd rather lose $130 to a series of Pittsburgh museums and a year's worth of visits than $27 to an artist's museum that was bound to be disappointing.
My suspicions were confirmed the moment we got into the building... this WAS going to be a weird experience.
In the entrance was a HUGE print of the Bed-Head Andy Warhol that I posted above. Here it is with Ethan posing for the camera--
Actually, I guess the photo is a bit different. This one might be "Andy Warhol Has Constipation", or "Andy Warhol is a Toilet Brush", or something like that. He looks a little bit angrier than he did in the other photo I posted earlier in this blog.
The desk attendant was no-less bizarre. He had a nose ring/loop in each nostril, and one piercing the place between nostrils-- like you'd see on a Spanish bull that was running the streets of Pamplona. He was also dressed in a shirt that I could only describe as a black version of The Puffy Shirt... the same that was featured in the Seinfeld episode regarding this article of clothing.
He told us in his drag-queen voice, "There are 7 floors to this museum, but the 6th floor you'll want to avoid... it contains adult content." Uh-huh, I thought to myself.
Off we went. I had to be careful, though, so I peaked around each corner to get a glimpse of what was inside before I allowed Ethan to enter. What some people call "art", others call "porn", if you know what I mean. In a museum like this, the line separating these two forms of "expression" is a very gray one.
Sure enough, "adult content" was peppered all over the place, but I think I was successful in preventing Ethan's eyes from wandering. What I was not anticipating was just how unusual the fascination of this guy's art really was.
I mean, what is this worth:
Apparently, it was worth A LOT.
I also came across the $100 MILLION silk screen of the Cowboy Elvis thing:
Whatever. Not sure the "worth" of this one, but I'm pretty sure the buyer got the short end of that deal.
We did find this gem of a painting as well:
What is it, you ask? Well, the goldish stuff is some type of metallic paint, and the splotches... yeah, that is where Mr. Warhol tinkled on it in order to oxidize the paint. The pink-haired girl that was standing guard (as if someone would actually steal this thing) told us that a person's diet would affect the coloring of the oxidation in unusual ways, which is why Mr. Warhol was fascinated by it. Well, yippity-do-dah, I said. Looks like he had too much broccoli that day. So, in essence, this "painting" is Mr. Warhol's pee. Aren't you impressed? Where I came from, this was called garbage, and particularly BAD garbage if, in the end, we ended up urinating on it. And, my grandmother would have used the Brillo pads that he had such a fascination with to scrub the oxidation off the painting... now, THERE is common sense.
Have we devolved to the point that our excrement is considered art? If that is the case, then I need to be saving all of those diapers. The "gift" inside could fetch me a fortune. Somehow, I think I could convince some people that the oxidation inside the diapers have "an unusual reaction to the diaper fibers, depending on the food and drink that the baby had that day".
Anyhow, in and out we went, covering Ethan's eyes at strategic locations, and before you knew it, we were on our way out of the building. We waived "bye" to the Puffy Shirt guy with the hog ring.
But, my plan was not complete. We next drove to the St. John the Baptist Byzantine Catholic Cemetery-- burial site of Andy Warhol, just outside Pittsburgh. My hope was to do the full Circle of Life for Andy Warhol, and upon seeing his tombstone, "Andy Warhol" would be officially dead in Ethan's mind-- or so the plan went. Hey, anything is possible, right?
And, we found it. It really wasn't hard to find... the soup cans on top of the headstone kinda gave it away. You can also see his parents, Julia and Andrew, on the tombstone behind him. HOPEFULLY, that completes his fascination... from start to tombstone. Only time will tell!!
Ethan did have a great time, so it was worth it. We ended the trip with hot dogs and root beer.
