Regarding Warhol: Sixty Artists, Fifty Years. The Metropolitan Museum of Art

I really had no intention of seeing this show, but since I was up at the Met to see the George Bellows show (more on him later) I figured why not, I mean how bad could it be? I knew that it had pretty much been panned by most critics but hey its Warhol, pop, celebrity, color, fun right? Well wrong it was even worse than what I was expecting. Crowded and badly installed with many mediocre works by 60 count them 60 artists who seem to have been chosen by having their names pulled from a hat. Why these artists and not 60 others that could equally have illustrated the curators rather murky, weak and obvious thesis of how Warhol has been influencing artists for the past Fifty years. Ok I get it, and I hardly need these curators to remind me of this fact that I got way back when. Why not simply have a Warhol retrospective and be done with it instead of mounting this lumbering show that has the feeling of a high school popularity contest featuring all the usual overrated suspects that I have come to know and hate. Remember in high school the art students who although not as talented as yourself seemed to always get picked to design the senior button, the yearbook cover and were voted artist of the year, then you can begin to get the feel and drift of this dreadful show that is actually like the visual equivalent of an episode of “Glee” but not nearly as much fun. And it goes on forever with galleries devoted to different themes and subjects so the crowds can understand what they are seeing, never mind the question that was in my head throughout this joyless ride why?  The show for me finally has some pleasure in the last gallery that is devoted only to Warhol with walls covered with his marvelous fluorescent “Cow Wallpaper” and his helium-filled silver pillows floating above my head and the Velvet Underground lightly singing in the background. This is the worst exhibition of 2012.