‘The Philosophy of Andy Warhol’ by Andy Warhol

Those uber-colourful portraits of Marilyn Monroe et al, the phenakistoscope-like prints of a young Elizabeth Taylor, that tin of tomato soup, so memorably sent up in an early episode of The Simpsons. Hear the name Andy Warhol and your mind will most likely conjure up one or more of these images. Yet, while much is known about the circles Warhol moved in and that he surrounded himself with the starlets of his day, decidedly less is known about the man himself, the man responsible for these provocative and instantly recognisable works of art.

This, The Philosophy of Andy Warhol, is for all intents and purposes his autobiography. However, as the title suggests, it reads rather more like an extended artist’s manifesto than an autobiography in the traditional sense, while still providing an unparalleled insight into Warhol’s inner life and his thoughts on an array of subjects including money, sex and, perhaps most memorably, fame. There is no timeline as such, and for this reason The Philosophy of Andy Warhol can be dipped in and out of at the reader’s leisure, almost like an essay collection albeit more digressive and disjointed…and probably a lot more fun.

Thanks to a lengthy cross-country rail journey however I was able to read The Philosophy of Andy Warhol from front to back rather swiftly. At its best the book is laugh-out-loud funny, Warhol certainly had a way with words as well as visuals, and at its worst (towards the end) it is bogged down in painstaking yet ultimately inconsequential details. But for the most part, Warhol’s observations about people and the world at large are astute and accurate, not to mention witty, and for an autobiography it is surprisingly not too self-involved.

Furthermore, it is impossible to overstate the sheer scope of Warhol’s influence; from band names (The Dandy Warhols) to the whole Campbell’s soup legend, his images and ideas remain important and enduring even after fifty years. Just yesterday I read a feature in Harper’s Bazaar UK in which the all-American mega designer Tommy Hilfiger showcased his scarily comprehensive Warhol collection, and when I once responded incredulously to my six-year-old cousin telling me how she studied Warhol and POPism at school her reply was a deadpan ‘yeah…of course.' I rest my case.

This piece was originally published on alisonlaurabell.tumblr.com in August 2012.