Art is what you can get away with.

Ah, the joy of popping the proverbial cherry on a brand new blog. And what better awkward first time in the back of a hatchback can one have, really, than with Andy Warhol?

When I decided to create this blog, I envisioned it as a tangible manifestation of my brain. As such, I should probably begin my inaugural post by apologizing to the populace at large for what you're about to experience. Expect a cosmic mashup of art, humor, oddity, trite prose, existential musings, mundanity...something you'd expect if the Italian Renaissance mated with Pop Art while reclining on a sofa with Manet sipping absinthe in front of Starry Night. That made more sense in my head...I promise. Also, in my head, the Xanadu soundtrack is playing.

Without further ado: my first exhibition review of 2010.

Andy Warhol: The Last Decade opened on Valentine's Day at The Modern in Ft. Worth. The Modern tells us that "Warhol entered a period of renewed vigor and enthusiasm in the 1980s that resulted in what was arguably the most productive period of his career." While I quibble with this being his most productive period, I will admit this is one hell of an exhibition, worth seeing for Warhol's Last Supper series alone.

But, in addition to the Last Supper, and the flowers, and the gun....there's URINE! How can you not love an exhibition that includes urine? You can't. It's not possible.

This is my second Warhol exhibition. I also saw Andy Warhol: Other Voices, Other Rooms at the Wexner Center in Columbus last year. That exhibit was fabulous in entirely different ways than the one at the Modern. Granted, there was no urine, but it did have an interactive, multimedia component that I think Andy would have enjoyed.

Possibly the most enjoyable moment of my Warhol: The Last Decade experience came when I overheard a fellow patron of the silver-haired variety trying to explain Warhol to his companion, also of the AARP set. "They were pretty cool people," he explained. I always enjoy hearing other art lovers try to recruit the non-artsy fartsy to our side. I imagine it's more difficult to do that when you're dealing with an artist who created a 35-minute single shot homage to the Blow Job (1963) than it is when you're showing off a nice Kinkade that would look lovely in the foyer, so props to the dude for trying.

In review: Go see the Warhol at The Modern. You won't regret it. (Also consider visiting the gift shop to purchase, as I did, an Andy Warhol action figure for your desk. It's an excellent conversation piece, because most people think it's Edgar Winter.)