THE NINETEEN NINETIES
Bob Colacello, Holy Terror. Andy Warhol Close Up ( New York: Harper Perennial, 1990), 118. Excerpt.
We had visited the great Mexican artist Siqueiros at his studio the day before, and as we spoke, Andy flipped through the catalogue of a recent exhibition that Siqueiros had signed to him. He stopped at a reproduction of a late abstract painting. "Anybody could do this," he said. "I mean, he could turn out hundreds of paintings a day like this. He just puts on the base. Then takes it off. Then goes crazy a little. It's just action paintings. Anyway, Pollock was much better. Pollock was a great painter. I wish I had a Pollock. This is nothing. But his wife was funny wasn't she? Do you think she's a lesbian? She could be a lesbian, right? She's tough."
I wasn't surprised in the least by Andy's off-the-wall sexual speculation. That was typical, everyday Andy. But I was almost shocked to hear him say what he really thought about another artist's work, especially something so negative and analytical and, in my opinion, right. Andy didn't talk about art; it wasn't cool. If asked, he said everything was great, or mocked the questioner, as he did with Barbara Rose.
That afternoon Andy also told me, "I think American Indian art is the greatest art. It's so simple and beautiful. And it doesn't matter who made it."