I usually wish I were younger. I
think it’s the natural inclination. Reading POPISM: The Warhol Sixties,
however, made me long to be older; to have been born, like Warhol himself, in
the late ’20s so that I could have been thriving during Warhol’s ’60s. Martin
Scorsese called POPISM "a vivid recreation of a great time to live
and a great time to die" (jacket cover). Calling the era a great time to die
is rather disingenuous (unless Scorsese is earnestly regretting that he didn’t
die then, and now unfortunately will be forced to die in our quotidian day),
but a great time to live–of that I am truly convinced. Take just the
insignificant example of Warhol’s description of a young man named Taylor: "When Taylor left his stockbroker job in Detroit, he had just fifty dollars
in his pocket. ‘Kerouac’s On the Road put me on the road,’ he said, ‘and
Allen’s Howl…had a big effect on me’" (49). What a time, when a book
or a poem could alter and shape a young man’s destiny!

Harcourt is to be lauded for
publishing the book, which the reader will regard as easily worth the $14 just
for the first fifty pages alone. With 400 flawlessly-proofed pages and 8 photo
plate inserts (B/W), along with a 14-page Index of names (great for tracking
down all Warhol’s statements on Bob Dylan or Roy Lichtenstein or Jim Morrison
or Tennessee Williams and so on), the book truly is a bargain. While speaking
of the production side of the work, it was clearly the wrong decision to
list Pat Hackett as coauthor. The entire narrative employs the first person (i.e.,
Warhol), and Pat Hackett is not once mentioned in the book. She is simply not
coauthor, but transcriber/compiler/editor, and Harcourt should have correctly
represented this on the jacket cover.

The book is divided into eras as
its sections instead of chapters: first is 1960-1963; then 1964, 1965, 1966,
and 1967 are each treated separately; and then the last (or sixth) section is
1968-1969; there is also a 2-page Postscript discussing a handful of events (deaths,
actually) from post-1969. This temporal treatment serves to bring the reader
into the times described, and makes for a much better read than his other autobiography,
The Philosophy of Andy Warhol, which has thematic chapters, like "Love,"
or "Beauty," that force Warhol into the uncomfortable position of
having to attempt to convey profound or even coherent thoughts. That’s simply
not his forte. POPISM is such a great book because it tries to convey deeds
rather than thoughts. This contrast comes out starkly when looking at the photo
plates provided in the book: when we see photos of Warhol at work in his studio
(called "the Factory"), we cannot help but to feel some reverence for
him, or in other words to take him seriously. On the other hand, when reading
the fruits of his pontification, it is scarcely possible to take him seriously
at all.

And perhaps this contrast jibes
perfectly well with what Popism is. Actually, it is difficult to try to garner
the definitive reason for why the book is called POPISM, rather than,
say, Warhol’s Dolce Vita, or simply The Warhol Sixties. However,
there are four or five remarks about the nature of Popism strewn throughout the
book. For example, Warhol says once that "the Pop idea…was that anybody
could do anything" (169), whereas he also makes the sardonic remark that
Pop refers to "just the surface things" (235). In line with the
latter comment, Warhol also characterizes Pop as "doing the easiest thing"
(249), but more consonant with the former, at one place he hits on a truly
brilliant insight when he comes to realize the equation between Popism and the
USA: "Pop America was America, completely" (277).

This equation of Popism and the USA
may itself seem to touch upon "just the surface things," but I would
argue that — something like Henry James’ caricature of decadent Europe in
contrast to wholesome America — though naïve it nevertheless captures
something fundamentally true. In The Philosophy of Andy Warhol, Warhol
states that one thing that always looks beautiful to him is "U.S.
Customs on the way back home" (72). If the equation between Popism — with
its Campbell’s soup cans, Marilyns, and Elvises –and America is debatable, it is well beyond doubt that the father of Popism is fundamentally
and absolutely American.

Not only contemporary America but
all of the globalized parts of the planet have been so deeply penetrated by
Popism (whatever it is) that it is no exaggeration to claim that we live in a
world partly but significantly created by Warhol — albeit, ironically perhaps,
a world essentially different from Warhol’s ’60s. We may believe that we
now understand more fully the inner significance, and consequently the
limitations, of Warhol’s Pop art, but that does not mean that we have not been
deeply imbued by it. It is important to note, in fact, that Warhol was himself
fully aware of the limitations of his movement. He recounts the following diatribe
of one of his friends while walking through a museum:

The days of true art are over and I’m
afraid they have been for quite some time…There is no art anymore;
there’s just bad graphic design…All modern art is, is graphics and slabs
being overanalyzed by a bunch of morons…You go into a gallery today and you
look at some drippings and you ask…"What is this? Is it a candle? Is it a
post?" and instead, they tell you…"It’s a Pollock." They tell
you the artist’s name!   (274-275)

POPISM, indeed, itself
functions in some way as a museum: it presents to us externally what is in fact
somehow internal to us. And it does so without pretense. Indeed, this work
seems more honest and transparent than Warhol’s earlier autobiography, The
Philosophy of Andy Warhol, wherein he attempted to conceal just as much as
he tried to reveal. Perhaps the five years that separated the two works
provided Warhol just the time he needed to mature.

Whatever the reasons, POPISM is
astonishingly superior to Warhol’s earlier attempts at autobiography, and it is
simply a great read. The new Harcourt edition is also great value for money,
and thus I cannot see any reason to dampen my enthusiasm with respect to the
book: buy it, read it, and live or relive Warhol’s outrageous times.    

© 2007 Aakash Singh

Aakash Singh, Reader in Philosophy,
University of Delhi, South Campus, India

Categories: ArtAndPhotography, Memoirs