There is an Andy Warhol exhibit at our local museum, the Campbell's soup cans and part of his series called Athletes. I don't know that it is art, really, but the row of large red and white cans on the wall is appealing. Black Bean is my favorite.
The athletes included are eclectic, the top performers of their day: Chris Evert, Pele, O.J. Simpson, Muhammad Ali, Jack Nicklaus, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, Willie Shewmaker, Dorothy Hamill, a couple of others. The Simpson is poignant, but the one that would not let go of my attention is Chris. Her disquieting, beautiful face seems to reveal perfectly what little I know of her life at that time.
Individually, even artistically, they aren't that impressive, but there is something about them. The pieces have a presence, a will, and I wondered if it comes from the artist. Of course, Warhol said, "I don't think my art has any lasting value," so I don’t know. Maybe that honesty is what appeals to me, but each piece carries a weight beyond its own.
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