The first room in the Art Gallery of Ontario (AGO)’s Andy Warhol exhibition displays his Self Portrait (1967). Plastered with impossibly bright reds, yellows, and blues, his face is barely visible. His hand rests on his chin, two fingers placed over his lips as if he’s smoking an invisible cigarette. He contemplates.
The 11-gallery exhibit follows Warhol’s life through his art in rough chronological order across the mediums he explored, such as screen-printing, film, music, and publishing. Works featured include Elvis I and II (1963/4),100 Campbell’s Soup Cans (1962), and Self-Portrait (1986), along with lesser-known pieces such as the Ladies and Gentlemen collection. It’s a straightforward career retrospective at first, especially given the numerous blurbs explaining his artwork (which the AGO doesn’t always have for other individual works on display).
Around the last few galleries, I realized that the curators hint that Warhol’s art doesn’t require, and maybe even discourages, extensive explanation. What makes his art so affecting is its nostalgic and emotionally reactive qualities. Growing up in the West, and especially as an American, a lot of the symbolism that Warhol features (like camouflage print, twentieth century celebrities, and Campbell’s Soup) are instantly recognizable to me. The artwork’s references and connotations surpass any need for external deciphering. Warhol establishes an instant connection between him and the American viewer by capturing the essence of their shared culture.
I’ve always felt that Warhol’s art is overrated, so I didn’t go into the exhibition expecting to feel anything special. Ultimately, however, the curation touched heavily on the fact that in spite of Warhol’s “business art” aesthetic, his works are deeply personal, always entwined with himself as the artist. Since most viewers are already aware of the immense impact of his art, the exhibit instead invites us to analyze Warhol and our own relationship to him and his works.
Personally, I recognized his art to be rooted in duality: public versus private; taboo versus commercial; criticism versus veneration. These themes are exemplified in the iconic Marilyn Diptych, displaying a repeated screen-printed image of Marilyn Monroe—one side in colour, the other in black and white. I felt a certain uneasiness in the lack of a “grey area” between the two canvases. I stared for a while.
I related to Warhol’s struggle with personal identity, queer and ethnic, always stuck in some sort of middle. His interest in sensuality, not just sexuality. His fascination with beautiful people, and how they may ruin our lives. He dredged back memories of AP Art History, eating Mondrian cakes, and posing as Heraclitus in a living tableau of The School of Athens.
The exhibition ends October 24, and I’d recommend visiting. Not just to look at his famous art in person, but to find the connections between Warhol’s life and your own. Especially the links that may not mean much to anyone else.
