Three Days Art

by Anthony Z

When I visited the Buffalo AKG Art Museum, I stopped in front of Andy Warhol’s Campbell’s Soup Cans. The cans were arranged in perfect rows, each one the same. The red and white images looked bright under the lights, like a supermarket shelf repeating into the distance. The patterns felt mechanical, and I started thinking of matching games. I had learned about Dada artists who loved imperfection, yet I realized I knew very little about this kind of “perfect” pop art. Warhol’s work felt playful and strangely obsessive, and I found myself drawn to it.

A similar feeling came to me when we watched Chaplin’s Modern Times. Both Warhol and Chaplin use simple images to comment on modern industrial life. In the opening of Modern Times, workers hurry into the factory as if pulled forward by something unseen. A giant clock hangs above them, and in class we described this belief in constant efficiency as “Productivism.” Chaplin shows how unrealistic this belief is. As the line speeds up, workers lose control. The Tramp tries to tighten bolts faster and faster, and his movements eventually look automatic, almost as if he has become a part of the machine.

Warhol explores a similar idea in a quieter way. He chose a soup he often drank as a child when his family could not afford much. By repeating the can image many times, he created a calm grid that looks peaceful from far away. Yet the uniform pattern reminded me of the factory scenes in Modern Times. Both Chaplin and Warhol take ordinary things and turn them into symbols of their era. Chaplin highlights how workers struggle to hold on to their identity, while Warhol turns a cheap soup can into an image that everyone recognizes.

What stayed with me most from Modern Times was the relationship between the Tramp and the Gamine. It made me think about the difference between price and value. Price can be written down, but value depends on feeling and purpose. The Tramp is not motivated by money for its own sake. He works when he imagines building a future with the Gamine, and their relationship grows quietly without dramatic speeches. In the final scene, they walk down the road with nothing except each other. That moment feels like the only place in their world that is not controlled by speed or production.

Price can be written down, but value depends on feeling and purpose.

Warhol’s soup cans also reflect this contrast between worth and meaning. A can of Campbell’s Soup in a store cost very little, and printed copies in advertisements are also cheap. However, when the same image appears in a museum, it suddenly gains cultural value. Behind both the low price and the high value lies something simple and personal. During the Great Depression, Warhol’s mother often made this soup for him, and that memory stayed with him. Standing in front of the soup can wall, I sensed both sides at once. The image feels mass produced, yet it also carries a memory that cannot be replicated.

Seeing Warhol and Chaplin together helped me understand modern life in a deeper way. This era gives us efficiency and repetition, but it also leaves room for quiet moments of care and meaning. Art allows me to slow down and think within a world that constantly asks for more. It invites me to decide what is worth remembering and what is worth cherishing.

This series comprises several journal articles and essays. Additional pieces can be found under the same tittle.