A 10-Minute Slow Look at Andy Warhol
Self-Portrait, 1978, Acrylic and silkscreen ink on linen // 1988.1.806
Displayed on the 5th Floor of The Warhol in Pittsburgh, PA, on September 7, 2024.
The Art Commentary Program at Wick Monet, owned and operated by Cornelius Martin—a person for whom the artist herself is of great importance, not measured by the money to be made from the artist’s work—has changed the way I approach art and it has dramatically shifted my writing. Memoirtistry is undergoing another transformation because the experience has created new goals; being an artist, who is also an author and certified editor, practicing the art of writing art commentary has reinvigorated my natural curiosities. In the commentary, I am free to express my artistry and my love of the craft. To say I am obsessed is to say enough. I have even gone so far as to pull my own paintings from my website with a plan to reintroduce the pieces through art commentary—adding by subtracting, another layer to the investigation of Self, as artist by artist through artist.
The cohort meets once a month (for six months) to offer peer reviews of each other’s work and to engage training. Last month, we met at The Warhol Museum. After touring each floor and receiving a wealth of insight from artist and program instructor Heather Hershberger—an ardent fan of Andy’s since childhood, influenced by her mother’s love of Warhol—we were given our assignment: a 10-minute slow look at any piece, followed by an additional 10 minutes to write a commentary. We were instructed to focus on describing not only our experience but the actual work, naming the colors, shapes, form and composition in our pieces, and we were allowed to take notes.
I departed the group from the lobby and, taking the stairs in twos, ascended to the fifth floor where one of Andy’s self-portraits using his screen printing method waited for me. I set my iPad in front of the piece and saw down on the concrete, legs crossed. And I looked slowly.
I see you Andy Warhol.
Andy Warhol’s self-portrait draws me into the person behind the art—the man behind the curtain; a wizard of his own Oz. His iconic white hair is screened black; his head is layered—three faces with six eyes. The pastels of blue, green, yellow and a pink that blends into nude bring easter eggs to mind. Yellow feels an afterthought, with pink heavy on the brain. The blue hues and green—water. I drown in Andy.
There are three Andy’s to consider: one looking at, depicting a brief moment of connection, one looking away, a distant dreamer, and one looking down, focused in thought… or is he ashamed?
The paint strokes are hurried; he didn’t wait for the paint to dry before applying more.
My two eyes focus on his nose; bulbous. I am moved to feel my own nose on my face, my index finger and thumb pinching the tip and then hugging to assess the curvature. The drips in pink around Andy’s most prominent nose, phallic. I cannot help but envision the many penises Andy has no doubt had thrust in his face, up against that nose.
I move to the mouths of the looking at and looking away Andy’s—they cut across the penis nose like an open wound. He bleeds in pastels.
i feel alone
the way i usually feel—chronic
in nature
but happy alone
…
easter inspires happiness in death
resolute ending
only the essence of the artist remains
a third eye activates—
i see you, looking at
i’m somewhere else, looking away
inside myself, looking down
I determine the portrait of the three Andy’s are unconcerned with shame, he is zoned out, calculating, in a flow state that cannot be interrupted by observation—an artist, in process.
