- 47
Andy Warhol
Description
- Andy Warhol
- Flowers
- signed and dated 64 twice on the overlap
- acrylic and silkscreen ink on linen
- 61 by 61cm.; 24 by 24in.
Provenance
Private Collection, Buenos Aires
CGR Gallery, New York
Armand Ornstein, Paris
Acquired directly from the above by the previous owner
Literature
Condition
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NOTWITHSTANDING THIS REPORT OR ANY DISCUSSIONS CONCERNING A LOT, ALL LOTS ARE OFFERED AND SOLD AS IS" IN ACCORDANCE WITH THE CONDITIONS OF BUSINESS PRINTED IN THE SALE CATALOGUE."
Catalogue Note
The Flowers are cropped, rotated, and printed versions of an extract from Modern Photography magazine. Warhol articulated the images in various colours and orientations and reproduced them in 82, 48, and 24 inch canvases for the aforementioned Castelli show, as well as for an exhibition at Ileana Sonnabend Galerie in Paris. Flowers on white backgrounds are rare: only six were made in this 24 inch format, along with seven 48 inch examples, and two sized at 82 inches.
Compared to the abject horror in such preceding works as the Electric Chairs, these hibiscus flowers seem conspicuously banal. Viewed on patently printed square grounds, some have suggested that they recall Warhol’s work as a commercial artist in the 1950s – appearing as a “gaudy shower curtain or the fabric for ladies’ cheap raincoats” (Lucy Lippard quoted in: ibid.). However, in rejecting the literal, almost didactic, content of his earlier works in favour of something more domestic and familiar in tone, Warhol invites a broader analysis of his work, invests greater philosophical import, and allows his viewers to ascribe their own meaning.
In selecting the seemingly innocuous motif of delicate hibiscus blossoms, Warhol implicitly confronted the centuries old art historical tradition of still-life painting. He asserted himself as part of the same discourse as the great French Impressionists, even the seventeenth-century Dutch painters of the vanitas: “In a funny way, he was kind of repeating the history of art. It was like now we’re doing my Flower period! Like Monet’s water lillies, Van Gogh’s flowers” (Gerard Malanga in: David Dalton and David McCabe, A Year in the Life of Andy Warhol, New York 2003, p. 74). However, in the present work, the complex modelling and perspective tricks of Dutch seventeenth-century still life works are abandoned in favour of the flat planar screenprint. Meanwhile, the sublime colouration and Impressionistic force of Monet and Van Gogh is replaced by synthetic fluorescent pink, burning against a monochromatic background.
In this context, the flowers are laced with a morbid tone. Their fragile forms are suffused with mortality and, as with so much of Warhol’s oeuvre, a comment on the brevity of life lingers beneath the acrylic silkscreened surface of this delicate work. Flowers die; they are fleeting moments of beauty that perish under our gaze. To this end, their inclusion as content makes a pertinent comparison with the Jackie and Marilyn series. All of these works are dominated by societally accepted paradigms of beauty. However, in each series, death is just around the corner, and the viewer is never allowed to forget the pathetic fragility of life.