It is unnecessary to set eyes upon any more of Andy Warhol’s candy-colored Marilyns and Lizzes and shoes and electric chairs. But this show—this!—is a feat: a Warhol show that feels, and feels necessary. A rich and surprising thing: rooms haunted by the oversize projected faces of aspiring Factory “superstars,” snapshots of Warhol staging himself being choked and punched and strangled, the teeniest portrait of Keith Haring clutching his beloved for dear life (an embrace that was not to last much longer), photographs sutured lovingly together. Thank you, curator Marisa C. Sanchez. (Seattle Art Museum, 1300 First Ave, 654-3100. 10 am–5 pm, $15 suggested.)
Jen Graves (The Stranger’s former arts critic) mostly writes about things you approach with your eyeballs. But she’s also a history nerd interested in anything that needs more talking about, from male... More by Jen Graves
The “candy colored” work has meaning and purpose as well. Fame and popularity doesn’t render that art meaningless or non important…