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296 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1992
Cultural production was centered on humans by humans. Art, novels, histories, movies, talk shows, sports, human studies were limitless; motives, reasons, interpretations endless. All versions were marked by irrationality, fantasy or contradiction. Much more was hidden than apparent. And, Madame Realism reflected, humans lie, animals don’t. Probably. Too unaware to make themselves wholly readable in any form, humans were tar-pits of self-reflection, streaming subjectivities.
When people used to learn about sex at fifteen and die at thirty-five, they obviously were going to have fewer problems than people today who learn about sex at eight or so, I guess, and live to be eighty. That’s a long time to play around with the same concept. The same boring concept. -- Andy Warhol, The Philosophy of Andy Warhol