
Well, it ended up in my hands, so too bad for S/L/J/F/Toh…
”I guess you have to take a lot of risks to be famous in any field,” [Damian] said, and then, turning around to look at me, she added: “For instance, to be an artist.”
She was being so serious, but it was just like a bad movie. I love bad movies. I was starting to remember why I liked Damian.
I guestured toward the gift-wrapped salami that was sticking out of my Pan Am flight bag and said, “Any time you slice a salami, you take a risk.”
“No, but I mean for an artist-”
“An artist!!” I interrupted. “What do you mean, an ‘artist’? An artist can slice a salami, too! Why do people think artists are special? It’s just another job.”
Damian wouldn’t let me disillusion her. Some people have deep-rooted long-standing art fantasies… “But to become a famous artist you had to do something that was ‘different.’ And if it was ‘different,’ then it means you took a risk, because the critics could have said that it was bad instead of good.”
“In the first place,” I said, “they usually did say it was bad. And in the second place, if you say that artists take ‘risks,’ it’s insulting to the men who landed on D-Day, to stunt men, to baby-sitters, to Evel Knievel, to stepdaughters, to coal miners, and to hitch-hikers, because they’re the ones who really know what ‘risks’ are.” She didn’t even hear me, she was still thinking about what glamorous “risks” artists take.
If you haven’t read The Philosophy of Andy Warhol: From A to B and Back Again, you are missing a heck of a lot of hilarity. His writing style is so simple and earnest that it reads either as an endearing and funny confession by a quirky personality or are pissed off by the obvious tongue-in-cheek put-on. Maybe people who knew him would be able to read his tone more clearly, but personally I think it’s better not to know whether he’s celebrating mass produced culture or criticizing it. It’s interesting that he’s cited by both sides – I’ve heard serious art historians mention him, as well as fashionistas. You gotta love that. It’s the sort of thing people into which people read what they will.
For some reason he reminds me of Richard Brautigan. Can you like “Winter Sunset”* without liking The Philosophy of Andy Warhol? (Please perform empirical tests.)
Speaking of poetry, in The Anthologist Nicholson Baker brings up an interesting point: why is prose separated into non-fiction and fiction while poetry is not? The answer seems obvious, but still, the division is instructive. Clump paintings and music in with poetry, and film and photography with prose. Maybe in all cases the division is more ambiguous than our classifications suggest, but that we make the distinction about some media and not others indicates the different ways we ingest and perceive these media.
And back again to photography.
*
Winter Sunset
A slash of scarlet
On the black hair
Of a wounded bear.