Diggin’ the Factory scene

I thought I'd write a little review of the movie I watched last night, "Factory Girl."

This came out in 2006, but typically, I'm way behind on things. I've had this for a while, and finally got around to watching it.

Andy Warhol is one of my favorite artists (I love Pop art in general), and several years ago, I became fascinated with his studio, the Factory, and the whole scene involved with him in the mid to late '60s. It was a highly creative and permissive atmosphere, but drug usage was rampant. From what I've read, Warhol did not condone the use of drugs in his studio, but he also didn't put a stop to it. Speed was the drug of choice at the Factory.

I'm not sure what fascinated me about it. Maybe it was because as a scientist, such a lifestyle and such behavior was so different from mine. Glamorous, decadent, creative, dynamic, highly social, free, and definitely out of the ordinary. Of course, that's ignoring the lack of focus, the ravages of drug abuse, the STIs, running out of money, and the general disconnection from anything resembling reality.

The Factory Girl in question is Edie Sedgwick, a poor little rich girl socialite who left Cambridge to go to New York to be a star. She did all that and more when she met Andy Warhol, and she became his "It Girl." She charmed everyone she met with her big eyes, beautiful smile, and long legs. She was the star of several of Warhol's movies, and worked as a model. Her look was all her own: her waif-like figure, heavy, dark eye makeup, short silver pixie haircut. Apparently she had a very troubled childhood, with a controlling, abusive father; one of her brothers committed suicide, and another died young in a motorcycle accident. One sister broke with the family and refused to have anything more to do with them. In Warhol, she found another controlling father figure, and for a while they were inseparable. As her drug use increased, they began to pull apart, and as her family money ran out (she got little to no money from Warhol), she could no longer stay in New York and moved back to her family's ranch in Santa Barbara.

Her father placed her into a psych ward, and she seemed to kick her drug habit. She married a fellow patient she met there and seemed to be fairly happy for a while. A few months after they were married, she died of a drug overdose at the age of 28.

Here are details about Edie Sedgwick's life and death.

That's the real Edie's story. What about the movie?

I found it fairly enjoyable, and thought it captured a lot of the frenetic energy of that time. Warhol coined the term "superstar" to describe Edie, and at that time, with Warhol at her side, she truly was. I enjoyed the depiction of life and work at the Factory; the art and movies were puzzling to some, but definitely new and exciting. Many of these scenes are shot as if actual film footage from the time, and that's a nice effect.

I thought it painted Edie and Andy's relationship in too stark of terms. As with all things in life, nothing is completely black and white. Andy wasn't a ruthless manipulator who used Edie and then threw her away, and Edie wasn't the completely helpless victim that fell prey to his manipulations. They were both of those things, yes, but they were also more to each other. They may have used each other (and by most accounts, Warhol did use people to further his career), but they also mutually benefited from the relationship. Edie became a celebrity because of his influence, and Andy had access to her old money connections that helped make him an art sensation. He used and manipulated her; she used and manipulated him. There was also obviously great love and affection between them, even to the point of Edie dyeing her hair silver to match his wigs; perhaps she was the female version of what he might have liked to be. Of course, their relationship never was and never would be physical.

The film also touches on Edie's relationship with Bob Dylan, although the character is called "Billy Quinn." Gee, a folk singer with a familiar raspy voice, wearing a harmonica holder around his neck...who could it be?!

I liked the movie and it kept me engaged, but I'm very interested in that era and the Factory scene, and have read quite a bit about Edie and Andy (including the book by Jean Stein that focused mainly on Edie), so I'm probably a little biased on the side of liking this. It's probably not for everyone. Lots of drugs and nudity and general depravity, and it really is sad to see the portrayal of Edie's rapid decline. I thought Sienna Miller did a good job as Edie, but I wasn't as impressed with Guy Pearce as Andy. I thought Crispin Glover did a better job as Andy in "The Doors."

If you're interested in Warhol or his Factory, you'll enjoy this as a diversion. Personally, I enjoyed the half hour extra about the real Edie more than the movie, and I would be interested in seeing if there are any documentaries that deal with her and with Warhol.

Renaissance Woman

Check it out! That's me on Mona Lisa's face!

Well, that didn't sound quite right, but you know what I meant.

I was a little bothered and bewildered tonight (not bewitched, though) to see someone post about not needing extraneous classes like art or history, because math and science is all that really matters.

*gasp* No. No no no. I got a Bachelor of Science degree and worked in a laboratory for my entire career, and I can tell you without any reservation whatsoever that math and science is most certainly not all that matters. When it comes to theories and scientific matters, of course; that should go without saying. I don't accept things on faith, and know that anyone espousing a theory must subject that theory to scrutiny and risk it being disproven. It happens all the time in science. That's part of the process! You can't just make things up and expect people to believe it. Well, some people can, but that's a topic for another entry.

One of the things I value the most in my life is my four year degree. Although I got a Bachelor of Science, I had to take a fair amount of elective courses outside of my core science classes. I tested out of a lot, including 20 credit hours of German and 8 of English (so I never took a single English class in college...I guess I turned out okay), but I still had to take a few electives. I had a personal finance course that taught me some basics about filing taxes, investing, and money management; I had Psychology and Sociology classes that I really enjoyed, and I've retained an amateur's interest in psychology; I loved the Archaeology class I took, because the first thing I remember wanting to be was an archaeologist; I didn't care for my Anthropology class, but that's because the prof was uninspiring and antagonistic; I took a couple more German classes that I really enjoyed. I signed up for an art class on a whim, but realized that the supplies would cost my folks much more than my passing interest warranted, so I dropped that.

I think my Dad must have given me my insatiable curiosity about so many things, because my desire to learn didn't stop with my chosen profession. I remember Dad telling me about being in Italy during the occupation in WWII, seeing the picture of him doing the obligatory I'm-propping-up-the-Tower-of-Pisa pose, and him telling me about how he felt walking along the streets in the ruts he knew were made by carts a couple of thousand years ago. (It's a sad weekend coming up for me...Father's Day on Sunday, and Dad's birthday on Monday. Although it made me a little teary to write that, I have a big smile on my face as I remember Dad's love of history and the curiosity that he imparted to me. Thanks, Dad!)

Even after I got out of college, I remained curious about various things, including art. My sister Diana is also fascinated by it, and we talked about it a lot, and went to the Art Institute in Chicago several times. We share a love of modern art, and I still remember going to Chicago to see the Andy Warhol exhibit at the Institute. I'm no expert, by any means, but I still have a great appreciation and love of going to galleries. It was quite a revelation to turn a corner and walk into a room to see the El Greco at the Institute. It was so BIG, and so vibrant! They also have "American Gothic," and Seurat's pointillist masterpiece. I still love Edward Hopper and Jackson Pollack and Renoir and Kandinsky and Maxfield Parrish. I suppose many of my tastes are puerile, but I won't make apologies for that. I enjoy what I do, and isn't art there to be interpreted and enjoyed by the viewer?

My musical tastes are far from highbrow, more along the lines of the bizarre and profane, but I'm not unfamiliar with classical. When I play the piano, I play classical. I love everything from the Sex Pistols to Dean Martin. As with art, beauty in music is subjective.

Of course, you know that I love to read, and I run the gamut from the latest Stephen King novel to books about architecture.

I guess I'm just trying to say that getting a degree in science and making that your career does not mean that you should exclude other interests and pursuits. In fact, my personal experience has shown me that being interested in art, literature, and anything removed from science is a pleasant diversion from the usual facts and figures, and it has enriched my life. I've also found that it can result in a connection with others that goes beyond any surface similarities. Most of us know how it feels to have someone get our obscure references about pop culture or art or movies, and debates are all the richer when we have the perspective of history and a sense of knowledge beyond our own tiny little sphere.

It's important to remember that it's a big world out there. A narrow world view limits us not only as individuals, but as citizens of the world. I suppose there are some that say they don't give a rat's ass about being a citizen of the world. I would say to you that you have no choice. You're already here.

Wherefore art thou…Art?

As soon as I read one of the AOL headlines this morning about how a nude Angelina Jolie sculpture had created a stir, I thought, "Dan has done it again." Here is a longer article, which includes a video, about his Jolie sculpture.

Sure enough, as soon as I read the article, I saw that the artist was Daniel Edwards. I wrote about Dan way back in May of 2007, when he released his Paris Hilton autopsy sculpture, and I may have written about him even before that, when he did the sculpture of Britney Spears giving birth. I worked with Dan's wife in Indianapolis, and still keep in sporadic touch with them. Of course, when I saw his latest, I had to fire off an email to them. As I wrote in the email, it has to be kind of nice to realize that his work is instantly recognizable!

This got me to thinking. (Uh oh.) What is the nature of Art? Many look at Dan's work and find it obscene or intended to provoke. Personally, I think one of the goals of art is to provoke, but obscenity is in the eye of the beholder. What some would see as obscenity others see as a celebration of life, in which a woman gives birth, or breast feeds her children. My opinion is that a big part of Dan's work is a commentary on our collective obsession with celebrity and the cult of personality. His work does provoke, it does get people talking, and it does get publicity. Seems pretty clever of him to me. He's also an amazing sculptor, isn't he?

I'm certainly no art connoisseur or art scholar, but I do enjoy reading up on artists and their works, as well as going to galleries. Seeing a work in person has a visual impact that can't be duplicated on the page, and I always enjoy seeing what reaction the artist invokes in me (or in others). I do enjoy modern art, including the colorful chaos of Pollock and Kandinsky, or the commercialism of Warhol. (I think Dan learned a bit about celebrity obsession from Warhol.) Two of my favorites are Edward Hopper and Maxfield Parrish. Parrish for his beautiful art deco-style paintings with that intense blue of evening skies, and Hopper for his vibrant colors contrasting with shadows. Even in the sunniest of Hopper's paintings, there are shadows. Parrish always makes me feel happy, as if I'm one of the women in his paintings, standing on a rock at the edge of a bottomless lake, my thin dress blowing in the gentle wind, looking up at a sky that is rapidly changing from evening to night, the stars shining against the deepening blue. Hopper has the opposite effect on me, inducing a feeling of solitary melancholy. His paintings often show deserted houses and empty chairs; a glimpse into a lighted window; a doorway leading into a house that seems to be unoccupied. Even when there are people in his painting, they are either alone or seem lonely in a crowd. (Think of his most famous painting, Nighthawks, which I'm happy to say I've seen in the Art Institute in Chicago.)

Why would anyone want to look at paintings that make them feel melancholy, you ask? It's all part of the human experience. It evokes feelings that are a part of all of us. I also enjoy looking at art that makes me happy, and some that puzzles me. What was the artist thinking when they painted this? What are the people doing in this? If it's a deserted landscape, what happened to the people? Sometimes, especially in modern art, what the hell is that thing? Believe me, I don't see a lot of meaning in Mark Rothko's works, for example, but I do find his techniques and colors interesting.

When I look at art, I don't try to think about what it means; it means different things to different people. I try to think of what it makes me feel. Joy? Anger? Sadness? Confusion? Disgust? Indifference? Of all of those, I would imagine that the latter is the one that most artists never want to induce. All others are fair game.

Congratulations to Dan for never inducing indifference!