Andy Warhol. I am embarrassed to admit that I (naively) hated the man’s art. Hate. His soup cans and brand images made me cringe. I saw them as shallow and transient; well designed decorations at best, regarded as art by the masses because they didn’t know any better. Because they cared about Marilyn Monroe, not because his mass produced portraits of her were art.
Like I said, I was naive.
However, I was also a twenty-something aspiring artist studying as a business major. When given the opportunity to do a project based on an art related topic, I happily grabbed Andy from the list.
During my research into the life and times of Andy Warhol, I found myself increasingly surprised. His roots in the commercial arts (though more accomplished ) were similar to my own. The philosophies behind Pop Art resonated with me, and I now saw his influence staring back at me through some of my own work. As I learned more about Andy, his life, and his work, my disdain morphed into understanding and love.
Now I am a thirty-something aspiring artist working as a business professional. I’d like to think that I learned from my experience with Andy to slow down and take in details before rushing to judgment… but perhaps not. I recently took a personality test as part of a teambuilding exercise that reported back to me my tendency to draw conclusions without enough information. All I could think about as I read through my profile was my experience with Andy.
How much do I miss out on because of this fatal flaw of mine? My heart sinks when I think about it. But, with a simple change in perspective, I also find that my heart can be lifted when I think of the transformation of Andy. Why? Because I know there are a million and one more Andys out there for me to discover… if I just slow down and look.