«GOOD BUSINESS IS THE BEST ART»

Economics aside, though: What does Andy mean to these people? Warhol once said, “If you want to know all about Andy Warhol, just look at the surface of my paintings.” Okay, let’s. Warhol’s work is easy to like, especially now that it seems—at first glance, anyway—less strange than it did when it was created. Much of it is large, shiny, and brightly colored; Warhol’s smudged, skidding silk-screens make his images pop. There are those clashing electric colors that no one ever put together before—it’s as though he discovered a new note on the saxophone. There is also Warhol the man, who still strikes many as a strange swish outlaw. That gives his work an edginess and borderline-risqué feeling; Rothko, by comparison, is more about gravitas and suicide. Collecting Warhol seems naughty but not really obnoxious. Hedge-funders and industry titans see themselves in him: the leader of a factory; the workaholic who empowers others to make things possible; the one who collects and hoards, who turns junk into art.Warhol, a collector himself, would revel in the speculation, spin, and trophy-hunting that now accompanies the buying and selling of his work. He loved making money, and he loved making the moneybags dance for him. He loved shopping, celebrating celebrity, and being original by being unoriginal. He also condoned acting out; that’s what is going on here too, of course. Someday, when fashions change and the Warhol bubble deflates, some of these same people will wonder why they let themselves get caught up in such a ridiculous business. In the meantime, those with the means would do well to recall Warhol’s own words before raising that auction paddle aloft. “Good business,” he said, “is the best art.”

-New York magazine
May 22 2011