摘要：I, too, dislike it—the impulse to claim Warhol as silent underwriter in virtually any aesthetic endeavor. Warhol invented reality television. Warhol would have loved YouTube. Jeff Koons is the heterosexual Warhol. It’s Warhol’s world; we just live in it. Is there a critical voice that does not have a claim on some aspect of the Warhol corpus, its bulk forever washing up on the shore of the contemporary?
