Warhol Through the Eyes of Babes.

Over the years I have made numerous trips to the Andy Warhol Museum. It's certainly one of the most unique features of Pittsburgh, and makes an interesting destination for repeat visits. I've written fairly recently about the Ron Mueck and Martin Klimas exhibitions that came through earlier this year. On that trip I was joined by my father, his wife, M. and Baby E. In fact I've taken all kinds of folks to see the place. Whenever someone comes in from out-of-town, I make it a point to suggest a visit. I enjoy accompanying them through the galleries, checking out temporary holdings, and sharing my knowledge and opinions of Warhol and his work. It doesn't take a lot of persuasion to get me to return again and again.

So when the prospect of chaperoning a bunch of kids from the exurbs came up, I decided that it would likely be fun. I knew that a trip to the big city for many of these teens would be a special treat, and I wanted to experience their reactions. As we made our way off the highway and into the North Side, everyone got really quiet as they stared wide-eyed through the windows. I heard one girl tentatively ask, "Is this the ghetto?" I found the inquiry naively sweet and a bit pathetic. How is it that people can reach adolescence without knowing the extent of poverty that exists only a short car ride away from their homes? I had fun teasing the kids, telling them to keep their heads low so they wouldn't be shot in a drive-by.

I actually repeated the story as I gave a quick manly hug to my (black) friend who was working the ticket counter in the lobby of the museum. He rolled his eyes and took a quick look at the group I was with, marveling at the incongruity of my presence. Everyone filed into the little theater off to the side, and waited for the introduction from the educational staff. They listened to the very simple rules as if they had never been to any cultural institution in their lives. Then about half of them received new name tags to replace the ones they had either lost or already thrown away, and everyone divided into their respective color-coded subgroups. I was put in charge of fifteen of them, and we headed off with our guide.

It wasn't hard to identify the trouble-makers in my charge. There were only five boys, and one trio immediately drew attention. The docent had to shush them repeatedly within the first five minutes of her lectures. I also noticed that they had some desperate compulsion to touch things that they shouldn't- including valuable works of art. We had a look around the delicate works of L.A.-native Glenn Kaino. His stuff is intricate and very fragile, and I felt a surge of dread as I watched the kids carelessly flit around the gallery. Predictably I caught one of the boys poking at a mechanism animating a particularly complex installation. Later I winced as the guide gave her assent to the group's request to grab some rolled-up posters that were offered free to patrons.

Besides feeling a brief moment of panic as I watched an uncoordinated teen stumble to his feet and almost carom into an Elvis silkscreen, I managed to keep calm. The girls were extraordinarily well behaved, and acted like they were interested. But the boys constantly threatened mayhem. They got a bit crazy in the Silver Cloud/Pillow room, but by that point I expected worse. The most embarrassing thing of all was the oft-stated contention of one particularly unimpressed kid, who kept repeating loudly, "How is this art? I could do that!" The thing is that this is a common response to Warhol, even among adults who are supposed to have an element of sophistication. The only query with more frequency is "Was Andy Warhol gay?"

The Andy Warhol Museum (Ron Mueck and Martin Klimas)

It's probably a coincidence that I visited the Andy Warhol Museum so soon after mentioning the artist in a blog post. I've been going about once a year since it opened in the early 1990's. For a brief period of time in my 20's, I actually worked in the museum gift shop (one of my co-workers was Maddy Warhola, -Andy's niece). It was a relaxing job, but I ran into some trouble with management. It was often very slow during the week, and to fill the time I worked my way through a Warhol biography. I learned a lot about his life and work, and felt that reading that book made me more qualified to sell stuff at the store. Unfortunately my bosses didn't feel the same, and someone tipped me off about their plans to let me go. I resented the decision. Surely they wanted knowledgeable staff behind the counter? In any event, I came to appreciate Warhol in a way I might never have otherwise.

Despite that less-than-thrilling experience with the institution, I have good feelings about the museum itself. When the place first opened I wondered how they were going to be able to keep it interesting. Most people know how much artwork Warhol and his Factory produced, but much of it is very similar in tone and content. Still at any one point in time, the museum can only show a small portion of its collection. So that allows some variability over the years. There is also an entire floor devoted to his "time capsules", where the contents of sealed cardboard boxes are displayed under glass as they are opened. There's something rather exciting about the project. I once had the opportunity to catalog the contents of a capsule. I was probably the third or fourth person to hold those items since Andy put them away. I also got to break down a Basquiat show, and hold his slippers and paints in my hands.

The Warhol Museum's practice of exhibiting other modern artists is another factor that keeps repeated visits lively. Of course there have been many shows with folks who either collaborated directly with Warhol, or otherwise had contact with him in New York City over the years. Besides Basquiat, I have seen work by Keith Haring, Francisco Clemente, Kenny Scharf and Julian Schnabel. And the curators don't limit themselves to his contemporaries. Instead they include a wide range of current creators who have been somehow influenced by Warhol. Included in this category have been Grayson Perry, Bruce Naumann, Henry Darger, Glenn Ligon, and Patti Smith. Somehow the museum retains a freshness that rewards habitués. They even feature social events that include hip bands and films.

So I found myself back again for the closing weekend of a current exhibition. There has been a lot of hype around town regarding the inclusion of several Ron Mueck pieces at the museum. Mueck is an Australian hyperrealist sculptor who uses silicone and other mixed media to create absurdly scaled reproductions of naked and partially covered human beings. Some of the pieces in the Warhol show were monstrously large (including a newborn baby, complete with umbilical cord, and a middle-aged woman reclining in bed), and others were downscaled to about 1/4th of normal size. They are remarkably accessible and don't require any particular knowledge of the art world to appreciate. As a result they are immensely popular. No doubt it was these pieces that attracted the large crowds last Friday evening.

But in another section of the building I discovered a small collection of photographic enlargements by Martin Klimas. This exhibition apparently opened on March 22 (in conjunction with NCECA), and runs until June 1, 2008. Despite the fact that it hasn't been widely publicized as a high-profile attraction, I recommend seeing this while it's still in town. Klimas is a German photographer who works with high-speed film. He drops ceramic figurines in a completely dark studio. The sound of them hitting a hard surface triggers a burst of light for a fraction of a second, and the object's initial fracture is captured in wondrously exquisite detail. The movement implicit in these stills is palpable, yet they somehow retain the characteristics of the classic still life composition. It's impressive work that justifies either a first-time visit or another happy return.