you got yourself a muffin
last Thursday, i went to the Walker to see two Andy Warhol films, "Haircut No. 1" and "Eat." "Haircut" i could really take or leave, which is how i feel about most of Warhol's art, in all honesty, but "Eat" i am still thinking about almost a week later. the film was 39 minutes long, and i could have watched this man:
Warhol's fellow pop artist Robert Indiana, who starred in the film, eat a mushroom for another 3 hours at least. if you have a chance to see the film, i would not miss it. it was one of the more beautiful things i have seen in my life. i am sorrowfully disappointed to discover that i don't especially care for his art. as it turns out, Indiana is this guy:
why is it that finding the man so moving on film, i expected his art to elicit the same response, as though his own ghostly image, cast into light by another artist's hand, was one with the images the solid man created?