.jpg?w=1)
拍品专文
Holly is a stunning and masterful example of Warhol's silkscreen portraits of prominent art world figures and movie stars of the 1960s. From 1962 onwards, Warhol began a period of intense experimentation that produced some of his best and most famous works. Holly brilliantly displays Warhol's innovative use of the photo booth snapshots as source material for the portrait. He delighted in mixing elements from both high art and popular culture to create a work of art that is at altogether impersonal yet universally iconic.
The portrait consists of nine panels, with the face closely cropped and frontally oriented, the features segmented in bright, Day-Glo colors, and the format bearing resemblance to that of the celebrity portraits of Marilyn Monroe, Liz Taylor, and Jacqueline Kennedy. One striking aspect of Holly is that the background is the same shade as her hair, which accentuates the strongly hued lips and eyes, thus emphasizing her sex appeal. "I was young, spontaneous and pretty. I played a role--the Pop Princess. Andy saw this. The role threatened no one, and I went everywhere," remembers Solomon.
This work was promoted by Holly who also sat for portraits for Roy Lichtenstein, Joseph Kosuth, Richard Artschwager, Christo, Neil Jenney and William Wegman. However, it was particularly Warhol's portrait that transformed Holly Solomon, who was then working as an actress, into an iconic image of the movie screen siren. "It is quite striking, when one reflects on it, that an artist as certain of the language of visual stardom as Warhol should have altered the mode in which glamour is conferred upon a face: to be glamorous is to be presented in the mode of a Warhol portrait." (A. Danto, 1998).
Holly Solomon was the mother of two small children and an aspiring actress in training with Lee Strasberg, and she wanted her portrait done. She chose a photographer but he was too expensive and decided instead to ask the young artists she had begun to get to know.
Better than a portrait she decided to ask Warhol to make her wallpaper for her dining room which had become a shrine to celebrity portraits painted by these artists and thought it would be good in gray on gray, like a French salon. Warhol took her to 42nd Street and tested the photo booths before selecting one with high contrast and leaving her with $25 in quarters to make the shots. She did her acting exercises, got hot and bored, dropped her ocelot coat from her shoulders, and eventually took a shoebox of pictures to Warhol.
Warhol declined to make wallpaper and the commission foundered until a misunderstanding with Warhol's dealer set him to work on the portrait. Holly could only afford three, but when she took her husband to choose he told Warhol to wrap all eight of them. Later Alan Solomon borrowed them for an exhibition at the ICA Boston and, because he had little space, he asked for a ninth panel from Warhol.
She wanted a "Warhol" and got a portrait that is as iconic as a Liz or Marilyn, which she says made her feel "pretty good". Warhol had captured not only her physical quality but somehow revealed her as a well-educated woman, necessarily objectified and playing the role of the siren. As she says, the work is deliciously ironic for, at the height of the women's liberation movement, he made her "the woman of the time" with all the complexity of mother, muse and intellectual. In the process he revealed her beauty, partly by emphasizing her mouth. At first she was a little embarrassed by the sensuality, the frankly sexual quality the portrait revealed. She was shocked that Warhol had chosen a shot which showed the roundness of her face. She said to him, "My face is round and I hate it." To which he replied, "Yeah, Holly. But don't you know that's what's beautiful about you?" "Beautiful?" I said. "Because I had never heard that word. But, great artists seduce you."
Fig. 1 Roy Lichtenstein, I...I'm Sorry, 1965-1966, Collection of the Broad Art Foundation
Fig. 2 Warhol selecting the photograph for Holly
Fig. 3 Photobooth snapshots of Holly Solomon
The portrait consists of nine panels, with the face closely cropped and frontally oriented, the features segmented in bright, Day-Glo colors, and the format bearing resemblance to that of the celebrity portraits of Marilyn Monroe, Liz Taylor, and Jacqueline Kennedy. One striking aspect of Holly is that the background is the same shade as her hair, which accentuates the strongly hued lips and eyes, thus emphasizing her sex appeal. "I was young, spontaneous and pretty. I played a role--the Pop Princess. Andy saw this. The role threatened no one, and I went everywhere," remembers Solomon.
This work was promoted by Holly who also sat for portraits for Roy Lichtenstein, Joseph Kosuth, Richard Artschwager, Christo, Neil Jenney and William Wegman. However, it was particularly Warhol's portrait that transformed Holly Solomon, who was then working as an actress, into an iconic image of the movie screen siren. "It is quite striking, when one reflects on it, that an artist as certain of the language of visual stardom as Warhol should have altered the mode in which glamour is conferred upon a face: to be glamorous is to be presented in the mode of a Warhol portrait." (A. Danto, 1998).
Holly Solomon was the mother of two small children and an aspiring actress in training with Lee Strasberg, and she wanted her portrait done. She chose a photographer but he was too expensive and decided instead to ask the young artists she had begun to get to know.
Better than a portrait she decided to ask Warhol to make her wallpaper for her dining room which had become a shrine to celebrity portraits painted by these artists and thought it would be good in gray on gray, like a French salon. Warhol took her to 42nd Street and tested the photo booths before selecting one with high contrast and leaving her with $25 in quarters to make the shots. She did her acting exercises, got hot and bored, dropped her ocelot coat from her shoulders, and eventually took a shoebox of pictures to Warhol.
Warhol declined to make wallpaper and the commission foundered until a misunderstanding with Warhol's dealer set him to work on the portrait. Holly could only afford three, but when she took her husband to choose he told Warhol to wrap all eight of them. Later Alan Solomon borrowed them for an exhibition at the ICA Boston and, because he had little space, he asked for a ninth panel from Warhol.
She wanted a "Warhol" and got a portrait that is as iconic as a Liz or Marilyn, which she says made her feel "pretty good". Warhol had captured not only her physical quality but somehow revealed her as a well-educated woman, necessarily objectified and playing the role of the siren. As she says, the work is deliciously ironic for, at the height of the women's liberation movement, he made her "the woman of the time" with all the complexity of mother, muse and intellectual. In the process he revealed her beauty, partly by emphasizing her mouth. At first she was a little embarrassed by the sensuality, the frankly sexual quality the portrait revealed. She was shocked that Warhol had chosen a shot which showed the roundness of her face. She said to him, "My face is round and I hate it." To which he replied, "Yeah, Holly. But don't you know that's what's beautiful about you?" "Beautiful?" I said. "Because I had never heard that word. But, great artists seduce you."
Fig. 1 Roy Lichtenstein, I...I'm Sorry, 1965-1966, Collection of the Broad Art Foundation
Fig. 2 Warhol selecting the photograph for Holly
Fig. 3 Photobooth snapshots of Holly Solomon