Read a very interesting article in Vice, The Warhol Delusion, by Bruce LaBruce. He writes:
I mean, even I, a homosexual artist who also spent his formative years in pre-liberation purgatory, and who has been influenced by Warhol as much as the next tortured sissy, can still be critical of the cruel legacy of Andy, his ushering in of the zombie apocalypse, as it were, without setting him up as a miracle-enacting saint of some kind.
Not your typical apotheosis of the Master of Surfaces, so … quite thought-provoking.
I love Warhol: the 2002 retrospective at the Los Angeles Museum of Contemporary Art was a life-altering experience. I do not mind admitting that, as the power of the retrospective washed over me, marking seminal moments in the tumult that was the sixties and the gloss of the seventies, over which Warhol presided as the Godfather of Pop (and the second half of the century), I was moved to tears.
Needless to say, when Jamie Lee Curtis said to me last year,”You are the Andy Warhol of iphoneograpy,” I was more than a little pleased.
Here is an excellent documentary on Andy: