Andy Warhol

When I think of tomato soup, I also think of my childhood visit to Agnes Etherington Art Centre with my class group. There, we saw an Andy Warhol exhibition. At the time, I thought it was a pretty silly thing to call Art (with a capital A). I remember us kids looking at it and just not getting it. We were giggling madly. They had put all those old cans in a gallery. Myself, I come from a family who tease; naturally, I thought that the gallery put it there to try and fool the children into thinking it was Art, but really it was a joke. I thought, I would not be fooled by them!
A few days ago, I got the wickedest craving for canned tomato soup. I don’t eat much prepackaged food, so it was odd. I suspect the craving actually had to do with being contacted by a family member who stabbed me in my back and through my heart a while back. They love canned tomato soup (or at least they did, back when I thought I still knew something about them).
Like the feeling of loss for that tomato soup fan, the craving for that soup never went away. Thus while I was in the store the other day I picked one of those Andy Warhol cans, and treated myself to some fast food of sorts.
It has been, I would guess 15, maybe 18, years since I have had canned tomato soup, but I was looking forward to it. Today, after I was alone, I ventured into the cold storage, picked it out, brought it up, set it on the counter, opened the can. When I lifted the lid, I cut my hand on the sharp edges. I was bleeding a little so I had to wrap my hand and while I did, I reflected on the fact that there are so many things that can harm us.
The soup looked pretty much the way that I remember it. Orangy-red like 1950′s lipstick, somewhat gelatinous. The smell, like sickly/ickly sweet, packaged orange juice, and vinegar. It was at about this time that the craving that was so strong, subsided completely. Not to be dissuaded, I heated it, which did not improve the smell at all. I even added a little butter in it, which is just what my mom did, and this did not help either. Still, I put it in a bowl and took a little taste.
I realized, when it hit my tongue, this is not food. My opinion, while I like the outside package still, it is way too sugar intensive. It is more a representation of nutrient similar substance which contained within. I wonder how I ever stomached it, even when I was a kid?
So, all these many years later, I feel like I finally understand what Andy Warhol was saying… I think it was sheeple. Sheeple must also eat. They accept it, based on the fact that others also accept it.
Therefore with all this accomplished, I go on with my day. I will do so, without at least two things which come in nice packages. I leave them behind because both lack what I require: indeed, I need my food and my inner circle to sustain me, to stick with me and to nourish me. I do not require them to be easy, and I strongly prefer that they don’t come in matching cans.

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