Andy Warhol

By: Ross Honey-Thornhill

Andy Warhol, by 1969, was the enigmatic high priest of pop art—famous, elusive, and utterly unlike anyone else. Born Andrew Warhola in 1928 to Slovakian immigrant parents in Pittsburgh, he rose to fame in the 1960s by turning everyday consumer goods, celebrities, and mass production into high art. He painted soup cans, made films of people sleeping, and surrounded himself with a cast of muses, misfits, and underground stars at his New York studio, The Factory.

Warhol was soft-spoken, deadpan, and deliberately distant. He cultivated mystery, rarely expressing strong opinions, often repeating phrases like “Oh wow” or “Gee.” By 1969, he had already survived a near-fatal shooting by radical feminist Valerie Solanas, which left him physically and emotionally altered—more cautious, more ghostlike. He wore a silver wig, carried a camera everywhere, and treated fame as both a currency and a subject. He was fascinated by celebrity, death, and surface appearances, famously saying, “In the future, everyone will be world-famous for 15 minutes.”

To play Warhol is to embody someone who watches more than speaks, who is both centre-stage and removed. He drifts rather than strides. His power comes not from volume but from mystique. You’re never quite sure what he’s thinking—or if he wants you to know at all.