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Michael Essany is more Warholian than most, piss comes to glove.
Perhaps the ultimate son, who knows.
{We're probably looking at a future PRESIDENT here, people - seriously; in fact, I'm tempted to put actual money on it ... }

Where banality pushed to its smoothly functioning limit becomes a kind of inscrutability. And I think Warhol may have been one of the first to {literally} see this: that TV worked in such a {spectral} way that "motivation" dropped right out of the picture. He foresaw that from now on nothing could be called "fake": "fake" as such would only be a category error. Authenticity? Forget it.

In fact, forgetting would become a new kind ofF authenticity. What one might - with only a slightly forced figural smile - call Andy's own acute insightful brand of TV Existentialism or pre or post Evangelism: OHthenticity, maybe.

There is no dividing tripe from trope any more: it's ALL GOOD. Or all bad. It's all THERE - in your face. Or in your head; because it's NOT there, after all. It's all ghosts. {And thus opens the entrance in-trance crypt or egress of or into Warhol's monumenally FUNERARY art. Which, again, if I pulled open this stitch I could unravel here into a long, long chapter ...)

Everything sings on TV - unsigned. Pure {fake} aura.
The loop completed from LOSS of aura [thru mechanical reproduction] to aura regained [via the negativa of airtime repro: a development which made ghosts of us all, and, crucially, fed us such a strong visual narcotic that we didn't essentially care what anyone said ... crucial for a life long dyslexic like Warhol. TV is like one of Andy's amphetamine screen tests compressed and made brite and sharp and short and punchy and ENDLESS ... }

posted by Ian 7/10/2003 12:51:00 PM

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