The Andy Warholian concept of ‘ironic celebrity’ is ultimately a flawed one because it treats celebrity itself as if it is something which contains nuanced gradations, which it does not; it subsumes them. The ironic celebrity, accurately described, will always actually be: Celebrity, ironic.
That’s the only reason you’ve ever heard of a conceptual artist from Pittsburgh who was born 87 years ago. Not because he was profound, but because he was famous. And even if he did actually believe his life to be an elaborate piece of performance art, he still cashed the checks. Doing it with a sneer or a smirk doesn’t change the fact. Keep in mind that when he died he was working on a commission for Mercedes-Benz, which now sits in their corporate art collection.
I’m not sneering at Andy, but sometimes I have trouble thinking about him without rolling my eyes.
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