With his ad nauseam repetitions of commercial items like Coca-Cola bottles and Campbell Soup cans, you could easily think that Andy Warhol’s art was a social critique of mindless, impersonal consumerism. What better way to epitomize globalization and the greedy corporate world, after all, than by evoking the ubiquitous Coke bottle?
As it turns out, the American artist was seeking beauty and comfort in the banality of everyday objects. If everything is the same and nothing stands out, then there is no hierarchy, no “better” or “worse”; there are no winners or losers. Most of all, there are no outcasts, a role that had been assigned to Warhol all his life.
In his view, democracy and consumerism were interlinked, the same mass-produced items being available to everyone, rich and poor – an idealistic perspective which he expressed in this famous statement:
“What’s great about this country is that America started the tradition where the richest consumers buy essentially the same thing as the poorest. You can be watching TV and see Coca-Cola, and you can know that the President drinks Coke, Liz Taylor drinks Coke, and just think, you can drink Coke too. A Coke is a Coke and no amount of money can get you a better Coke than the bum on the corner is drinking. All the Cokes are the same and all the Cokes are good. Liz Taylor knows it, the President knows it, the bum knows it and you know it.”
There isn’t much to be said about Green Coca-Cola Bottles. Warhol used this consumerist symbol in many of his other works, as well. Here, the 112 almost identical Coke bottles displayed on 7 rows, one next to another, with the Coca-Cola logo beneath them, resemble an advertising poster that is invoking mass-production, overconsumption and saturation.
As a former commercial artist and illustrator, no one could have been a better ambassador for Pop Art – a movement in the 1950s that bridged art with popular, mass culture – than Warhol. And yet, I find something deeply disturbing in his endless repetitions, an unapologetic lack of effort. By focusing on the concept instead of the visual imagery, perhaps he was eager to confront us with overflowing banality and a reassessment of our notions of art and beauty. Is a Coca-Cola bottle beautiful? Democratic? Why? Why not? Could it be art? Whether you love him or hate him, Warhol at least makes you consider your values and your expectations of art. Maybe you will find yourself open to challenges in your way of thinking or maybe you will draw a line in the sand. Anything goes.