But it turns out, against all odds, that the novelty of it not only works but, in fact, becomes surprisingly moving as the series progresses. It would seem to be a terrible idea, and moments are rare when awareness of the post-human process is not top-of-mind. Drawing on text-to-speech technology layered with recorded readings by an actor (Bill Irwin), the digital simulacrum of a voice effectively recites the diary entries as Warhol originally transmitted them over the phone. More eyebrow-raising is the presence of narration by a simulation of Warhol’s voice made by way of artificial intelligence. The effect is jarring at first, but it becomes innocuous enough as the rhythm of such scenes fits into the first episode’s slow and patient pacing (which grows even slower and more patient in the five episodes that follow, each around an hour long). As has become common for documentaries on TV, re-enactments are frequent, with a would-be Warhol stand-in shown from behind or otherwise in obscured views shuffling around at home and going about his day. That ascetic approach presents a challenge to a documentary treatment of The Andy Warhol Diaries that seems insurmountable early on, when the mundanity of so much of what is featured runs in opposition to the need for it to be, somehow, dramatized. I always felt that a very slow film could be just as interesting as a porch-sit if you thought about it the same way.” As Warhol himself wrote in his book Popism: The Warhol Sixties (1980), “That had always fascinated me, the way people could sit by a window or on a porch all day and look out and never be bored, but then if they went to a movie or a play, they suddenly objected to being bored. For those who fall under Warhol’s sway, the process can be perspective-changing in the way that it is exciting and inspiring to watch one of Warhol’s long and plodding-or even entirely static-films. Part of the thrill of reading the Diaries, for those who find it a thrill at all, lies in learning how to reconcile one kind of discovery with another kind that might be its opposite, in a way that makes the plain parts interesting and the interesting parts plain. Some of it is numbingly banal (recitations of petty gossip, records of dollar-amounts spent on taxi rides), while some of it is impossibly glamorous (nights out at Studio 54 with Bianca Jagger, meeting the Pope at the Vatican). Readers of the 840-page book, which consists of daily memories dictated over the phone and edited down by Warhol confidante Pat Hackett before publication in 1989, come across all kinds of information. Biographer Blake Gopnik Reveals His True Persona.

Andy Warhol Is Art History's Greatest Myth-Maker.

Andy warhol manifesto