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A review by jim96
The Philosophy of Andy Warhol: From A to B and Back Again by Andy Warhol
5.0
Warhol has betrayed himself.
Like his Monroe, or Mao or Campbell Soup Can prints, Warhol's memoir strives to turn 'triviality' into an art-form - and he's succeeded. But unlike the aforementioned artworks, which focus on the endless cycle of production and reproduction - 'The Philosophy of Andy Warhol' is anything but repetitive. And though throughout Warhol goes to all ends to convince you of his nonchalance his work betrays him, because every single word, every single paragraph, and every single chapter feels entirely deliberate - and that is what makes the book so brilliant.
With the first few chapters starting with tangentially related aphorisms on relatively mundane topics like his childhood, fashion, and food habits, Warhol's memoir initially runs the risk many other such writers (like de Botton, or Bryson) fall prey to - that is, turning his memoir into an exhausting shopping list of faux-witticisms. But what is most surprising about this book is that (unlike, say Soup Cans) is that it evolves. As a reader you find yourself happily chugging along, quietly amused as Warhol leaps from 'arm pit smell' to Liz Taylor, when you realise that at some point 'The Philosophy of Andy Warhol' became a concerted prose narrative - and you're not sure at what point that was. As the book progresses, Warhol slowly applies his seemingly shallow musings to 'real life', until his memoir is no longer a text book but a novel - and a good one at that. Warhol proves his philosophy isn't just for show, that it is purposeful and in many ways quite sensible.
Throughout the book, Warhol shares conversations he (A) has with various companions (his 'Bs') - but in the second last chapter, a 25 page mostly uninterrupted block of brand name products and mind numbingly conceited cleaning routines, Warhol's trip from A to B comes 'back again'; flipping the mirror on himself, exposing the past 200 pages of witty aphorisms as the over-bloated nonsense it really is. His final message: it's all so fleeting, why take it so seriously?
And yet, while Andy Warhol might like you to think all life is frivolous, his Philosophy ends up proving to be anything but.
Like his Monroe, or Mao or Campbell Soup Can prints, Warhol's memoir strives to turn 'triviality' into an art-form - and he's succeeded. But unlike the aforementioned artworks, which focus on the endless cycle of production and reproduction - 'The Philosophy of Andy Warhol' is anything but repetitive. And though throughout Warhol goes to all ends to convince you of his nonchalance his work betrays him, because every single word, every single paragraph, and every single chapter feels entirely deliberate - and that is what makes the book so brilliant.
With the first few chapters starting with tangentially related aphorisms on relatively mundane topics like his childhood, fashion, and food habits, Warhol's memoir initially runs the risk many other such writers (like de Botton, or Bryson) fall prey to - that is, turning his memoir into an exhausting shopping list of faux-witticisms. But what is most surprising about this book is that (unlike, say Soup Cans) is that it evolves. As a reader you find yourself happily chugging along, quietly amused as Warhol leaps from 'arm pit smell' to Liz Taylor, when you realise that at some point 'The Philosophy of Andy Warhol' became a concerted prose narrative - and you're not sure at what point that was. As the book progresses, Warhol slowly applies his seemingly shallow musings to 'real life', until his memoir is no longer a text book but a novel - and a good one at that. Warhol proves his philosophy isn't just for show, that it is purposeful and in many ways quite sensible.
Throughout the book, Warhol shares conversations he (A) has with various companions (his 'Bs') - but in the second last chapter, a 25 page mostly uninterrupted block of brand name products and mind numbingly conceited cleaning routines, Warhol's trip from A to B comes 'back again'; flipping the mirror on himself, exposing the past 200 pages of witty aphorisms as the over-bloated nonsense it really is. His final message: it's all so fleeting, why take it so seriously?
And yet, while Andy Warhol might like you to think all life is frivolous, his Philosophy ends up proving to be anything but.