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ANDY WARHOL (1928-1987) SELF-PORTRAIT (TWO WORKS) each stamped with Foundation seal on the revers...

Currency:USD Category:Everything Else / Other Start Price:NA Estimated At:800,000.00 - 1,200,000.00 USD
ANDY WARHOL (1928-1987) SELF-PORTRAIT (TWO WORKS) each stamped with Foundation seal on the revers...
ANDY WARHOL
(1928-1987)
SELF-PORTRAIT (TWO WORKS)
each stamped with Foundation seal on the reverse; each stamped with Foundation and Estate seals and numbered (P040-047-P040-045, respectively) on the overlap
synthetic polymer paint and silkscreen on canvas
22 x 22 in. (55.9 x 55.9 cm) each
executed in 1986
ESTIMATE: $800,000-1,200,000
PROVENANCE
Robert Miller Gallery, NEW YORK
Barbara Mathes Gallery, NEW YORK
EXHIBITED
LONDON, Anthony d'Offay Gallery, ANDY WARHOL, VANITAS: SKULLS AND SELF-PORTRAITS 1976-1986, November 28, 1995-January 27, 1996 (green canvas exhibited)
LUDWIGSHAFEN, Wilhelm-Hack Museum, September 15, 1996-
January 6, 1997
"If you want to know all about Andy Warhol," the artist once explained, "just look at the surface of my paintings and films and me, and there I am. There's nothing behind it" (Quoted in Gretchen Berg, "Nothing to Lose: An Interview with Andy Warhol," Cahiers du Cinema in English, no. 10, 1967, p. 56). Despite such evasions, the present work from his final series of self-portraits ultimately offers poignant insight into the artist's self-appraisal at the end of his life.
As the present work demonstrates, Warhol silkscreened photographs of himself onto square canvases, floating brightly colored images of his own head on fields of utter blackness. The apparent simplicity of these paintings, combined with the impassive expression on the artist's face, seems to perpetuate the mysterious, tight-lipped, artistic persona that Warhol cultivated over his life. Although the artist produced various self-portraits throughout his career, he usually pictured himself hiding behind shadows, sunglasses, or the cosmetics of drag. In his final self-portraits, however, Warhol stares directly at his audience. This unblinking expression is uncommonly candid, and confronts the viewer with the artist's aging appearance. Warhol himself revealed his preoccupation with his appearance in these portraits in his diary on Tuesday, February 25, 1986. The artist recorded that he "tried on wigs from Fiorucci but it looked like too much of a big hat wig, too outrageous. This is for the Self-Portraits" (Pat Hackett, ed., the Andy Warhol Diaries, Warner Books, 1989, p. 716). Warhol's visage by this time was, of course, almost totally invented: the hair belonged to one of dozens of wigs, the skin had been dermatologically transformed and constantly tautened through the use of astringents, and the sunken cheeks had been smoothed out with collagen injections.
Despite the artificiality of his appearance, the face was still reconcilable with that of the clear-eyed teenager who had drawn an earnest self-portrait in his high school art class. The 40-odd years between that early pencil drawing and the last self-portraits had certainly heightened his awareness of human vanity and prepared him to contemplate his own mortality. Though he did his best to suppress morbid thoughts, references to death and disaster continued to slide into his art" (David Bourdon, Warhol, New York: Harry N. Abrams, Inc., 1989, p. 402). In addition to his timeworn facial features, other aspects of Warhol's final self-portraits make oblique reference to death. Unlike most of Warhol's portraiture, where the neck and shoulders of his sitters are clearly visible, the present work obliterates any sense of the artist's torso. When rendered in the graphic tones of a silkscreen, his free-floating face seems thin and insubstantial. This apparitional appearance is only enhanced by Warhol's flyaway wig. Cropped at the top of the canvas, the uppermost strands seem to dangle the head from above, and lend this image a ghastly, noose-like suspension.
The present work may also be read as a celebration of sheer artistic genius. The same wig that suspends Warhol's head also explodes in every direction, and the shocks of hair dissolve into strokes and splatters of pure pigment. These expressive tendrils of paint provide a compelling counterpoint to the rectitude of Warhol's facial expression. In the final analysis, they seem to symbolize the boundless creative energies that flowed from Warhol's mind, even in the months just prior to his passing.