The Philosophy of Andy Warhol

Love him or detest him, one could never say Andy Warhol was boring. So upon beginning to read 'The Philosophy of...' one thought one was in for a rather interesting journey. The book indeed delivered on this.

It is often vacuous and often absurd much like it's author, however despite it's possible shortcomings it gives a fantastic insight into the cognition of a 20th century icon.
The following passage is one I particularly like and is edited from a conversation appearing in the book's opening chapter.

"Nothing is missing. It's all there.
The affectless gaze. The diffracted grace.
The bored languor. The wasted pallor
The chic freakiness, The basically passive astonishment, the enthralling secret knowledge.
The chintzy joy, the revelatory tropisms, the chalky, puckish mask, the slightly Slavic look.
The childlike, gum chewing naivete, the glamour rooted in despair, the self admiring carelessness, the perfected otherness, the wispiness, the shadowy, voyeuristic, vaguely sinister aura, the pale, soft spoken magical presence, the skin and bones.
The albino chalk skin. Parchmentlike. Reptilian. Almost blue.
The knobby knees. The road map of scars. The long bony arms, so white they look bleached.
The arresting hands. The pinhead eyes. The banana ears.
The graying lips. The shaggy silver-white hair, soft and metallic. The cords of the neck standing out around the big Adam's apple.
It's all there, nothing is missing. I'm everything my scrap book says I am."

Thanks for reading.