I’m not a huge fan of Andy Warhol’s visual art, but I’m a devoted fan of his writing. (Sidenote: it’s striking how many visual artists are brilliant writers, for instance, I love Eugene Delacroix’s Journal and Edward Weston’s Daybooks).
What interests me about Andy Warhol is that he makes seemingly obvious observations in very simple language — and yet, upon reflection, I often realize that he has managed to articulate something very subtle. As one of my Secrets of Adulthood holds:
It’s very important, and surprisingly difficult, to grasp the obvious.
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