There is so much food for further thought in this article. I can't wait for you to get to it, Michael. I love your writing. That's all I wanted to say.
So well done. In some ways, it's gratifying to know that being in Lapham's presence (physically or rhetorically) caused others to burn brighter. I discovered Lapham only relatively recently and found in him a kindred spirit (or 'kinsprit,' as Christopher Morley put it) whose discussion of high culture, history, and literature seem a hard sell for the generation that finds its news on TikTok, equates TikTok to romance, and thinks a three-minute video is long-form content.
My own appreciation to Lapham in July (below) pales in comparison to those who knew him best. Yet its very existence speaks to his influence and timeless relevance.
"The true art of memory is the art of attention." —Samuel Johnson, 1759
Let us take Johnson at his word and keep our memory of Lapham alive by continuing to pay attention to his work.
Many years ago, Michael Crichton made a similar point in which he lamented that common knowledge of mythology and its shared cultural knowledge was evaporating. Ever since ninth grade, I’ve often thought of Edith Hamilton, and how I benefited from her book.
Dropping in to say as a mythologist, I'm deeply concerned at our mythological illiteracy. It's causing real harm in ways people are not-so-blissfully unaware of.
The only downside I experienced from knowing mythology is that early in “Forbidden Planet” when we learn the Altair IV colonists’ ship was the Bellerophon, I figured out the ending.
Another thumbs up for Python simplification of complexity. My favorite example is “The Galaxy Song” — and since hearing it, I’ve alrways remembered that our solar system is "30,000 lightyears from galactic central point."
So glad — and so unsurprised — to read that he also loathed that fright-wigged poseur. Your appreciation of Lapham’s character and of the flaws he shared with his tribe and place and time is elegant and heartfelt and even moving. I suspect you are getting more reflective these days. And I’m here for all of it.
Humor that punches above its anticipated audience is good. I've forgotten most of what I was taught in high school, yet I still recall that "the villeins and the ploughmen got to have the lord's consent," and without Carl Stalling, my recent stint as a classical radio announcer would have been disastrous. From Terramite Terrace to the Gizmoplex, I believe the sweet spot for smart-without-shame comedy is much broader than the early Seventies, but I agree the decline of shared curricular experience is increasing its rarity. Thanks for a thoughtful essay.
Graphically I love him—but the persona, philosophy, and most of all how he treated people, I genuinely loathe. I think he was a terrible development for the world of art, and our culture. Like Anna Wintour, he provides a model for hyper-ambitious, shallow, vain, manipulative, and most of all mean people to use, and justify themselves with. His graphic art is generally good art, but he has inspired literally generations of bad stuff, and turned fine art into basically a huckster factory. It’s 99% bullshit.
Warhol is now The Goal for many many art students, who are paying good money to become a weird kind of self-marketing/branding expert, but who can’t freaking draw. Cancel me, but I think an artist should be able to draw. Warhol certainly could.
Anyway there’s something almost diabolical about how how Warhol treated Edie Sedgwick. And though I think Valerie Solanis was insane, I also think it was only a matter of time before someone paid back Warhol’s emotional abuse with violence. The guy was just terribly, terribly broken, and while his ascent was justified, his subsequent obsession with celebrity and image—in part caused by ego-wounds from sexual rejection by Capote and others—became a virus that’s infected our entire culture, and may yet kill us all. Without Warhol, the original incel, there is no Trump.
And Monty Python was really funny, thanks for the laugh.
It feels as if we're on the doorstep of Idiocracy
There is so much food for further thought in this article. I can't wait for you to get to it, Michael. I love your writing. That's all I wanted to say.
So well done. In some ways, it's gratifying to know that being in Lapham's presence (physically or rhetorically) caused others to burn brighter. I discovered Lapham only relatively recently and found in him a kindred spirit (or 'kinsprit,' as Christopher Morley put it) whose discussion of high culture, history, and literature seem a hard sell for the generation that finds its news on TikTok, equates TikTok to romance, and thinks a three-minute video is long-form content.
My own appreciation to Lapham in July (below) pales in comparison to those who knew him best. Yet its very existence speaks to his influence and timeless relevance.
"The true art of memory is the art of attention." —Samuel Johnson, 1759
Let us take Johnson at his word and keep our memory of Lapham alive by continuing to pay attention to his work.
https://www.timelesstimely.com/p/a-world-in-time
So glad you enjoyed Scott -- will read your appreciation with relish. I didn't know Lewis well, but then again, it seems few did.
Many years ago, Michael Crichton made a similar point in which he lamented that common knowledge of mythology and its shared cultural knowledge was evaporating. Ever since ninth grade, I’ve often thought of Edith Hamilton, and how I benefited from her book.
Yes, agreed--another Edith Hamilton fan here.
Completely.
Dropping in to say as a mythologist, I'm deeply concerned at our mythological illiteracy. It's causing real harm in ways people are not-so-blissfully unaware of.
The only downside I experienced from knowing mythology is that early in “Forbidden Planet” when we learn the Altair IV colonists’ ship was the Bellerophon, I figured out the ending.
Another thumbs up for Python simplification of complexity. My favorite example is “The Galaxy Song” — and since hearing it, I’ve alrways remembered that our solar system is "30,000 lightyears from galactic central point."
That ability to simplify comes from deep knowledge, natural brainpower on the part of the Pythons, and intellectual confidence.
So glad — and so unsurprised — to read that he also loathed that fright-wigged poseur. Your appreciation of Lapham’s character and of the flaws he shared with his tribe and place and time is elegant and heartfelt and even moving. I suspect you are getting more reflective these days. And I’m here for all of it.
Humor that punches above its anticipated audience is good. I've forgotten most of what I was taught in high school, yet I still recall that "the villeins and the ploughmen got to have the lord's consent," and without Carl Stalling, my recent stint as a classical radio announcer would have been disastrous. From Terramite Terrace to the Gizmoplex, I believe the sweet spot for smart-without-shame comedy is much broader than the early Seventies, but I agree the decline of shared curricular experience is increasing its rarity. Thanks for a thoughtful essay.
I think that’s right Jeff.
Graphically I love him—but the persona, philosophy, and most of all how he treated people, I genuinely loathe. I think he was a terrible development for the world of art, and our culture. Like Anna Wintour, he provides a model for hyper-ambitious, shallow, vain, manipulative, and most of all mean people to use, and justify themselves with. His graphic art is generally good art, but he has inspired literally generations of bad stuff, and turned fine art into basically a huckster factory. It’s 99% bullshit.
Warhol is now The Goal for many many art students, who are paying good money to become a weird kind of self-marketing/branding expert, but who can’t freaking draw. Cancel me, but I think an artist should be able to draw. Warhol certainly could.
Anyway there’s something almost diabolical about how how Warhol treated Edie Sedgwick. And though I think Valerie Solanis was insane, I also think it was only a matter of time before someone paid back Warhol’s emotional abuse with violence. The guy was just terribly, terribly broken, and while his ascent was justified, his subsequent obsession with celebrity and image—in part caused by ego-wounds from sexual rejection by Capote and others—became a virus that’s infected our entire culture, and may yet kill us all. Without Warhol, the original incel, there is no Trump.