now that's a review...yeeesh

by Donald Kuspit

...Warhol was the first fame-fucker, and Peyton follows in his tracks -- she’s the latest Warhol wanna-be -- down to the fact that her portraits are often based on photographs, like his. And like his, they look like cosmeticized canvases rather than paintings.
...Warhol understood that fame is a social fig leaf on personal vacuousness. Peyton thinks it is the fullness of being, showing how shallow her understanding of celebrity is compared to Warhol’s. His awareness that fame dies -- thus the fame of his death imagery -- was his way of debunking it. Peyton blindly embraces it, not knowing it is the kiss of death. Thus she is the victim of fame rather than its master, like Warhol.
...Warhol mocked the cult of celebrity even as he became a celebrity -- thus the odd note of self-defeat in his celebrity portraits -- while Peyton wallows in it, suggesting that she is as permanently immature as the adolescent mind she panders to. Her art is a case of arrested development -- esthetically as well as humanly -- while Warhol’s art is cynically mature, and as such addressed to critical consciousness, despite itself.

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