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Imagine all the people. Paying exorbitant prices. You may say it's a nightmare. But you're not the only one.
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And these memories lose their meaning
BY LEN SOUSA
Recently, the Newport Harbor Hotel & Marina played host to an art show presented, in name at least, by Yoko Ono titled "In My Life: The Artwork of John Lennon." The show has been a popular art exhibit for the past 15 years, traveling around the world, and donating proceeds to numerous charities. All in all a good cause, and very much in the songwriter's spirit.
But while I am a big fan of Lennon's music, I never saw much value in his crude sketches. Some offer a nice peek into his life and are fun to see - his simple self-portrait has become a famous logo - but most are pretty uninspiring. My gut feeling is that if Lennon hadn't drawn them, no one would be interested.
Though a press release for the show had stated that attendees would be treated to "an extensive collection of original drawings and hand-signed pieces as well as limited edition prints," a better description may have read: "an extensive collection of limited edition prints with only a handful of original drawings."
Much of the gallery was made up of lithographs, serigraphs and copper etchings all reproduced posthumously from Lennon's original drawings - signed by Yoko Ono and stamped with Lennon's red Asian chop (presumably by Yoko or an assistant). At the center of the art exhibit were only five original Lennon sketches, priced at about $25,000 each, while prints ranged from $450 to $10,000 each.
Still the most dismaying aspect of the event was not the exorbitant pricing. The genuine Lennon sketches were certainly one-of-a-kind, and if sold at auction might fetch more than their asking price. As for the prints, well, let's just say it was for charity and we can forgive a little price gouging. The real disappointment was in witnessing how mechanized and estranged the Lennon franchise had become.
Mingling my way through the crowd of local socialites who hoped to climb their way into art patronage by purchasing overpriced prints never endorsed by the original artist, I couldn't help but wonder if this was what the "Imagine" songwriter had envisioned for his work. Were these prim, Newport prima donnas in sunhats toting toy poodles the sort of fanbase the famous peacenik sought?
An argument could be made that Yoko Ono would know her late husband's wishes better than most and that he would have endorsed such a project, but as I viewed the elegantly framed doodles in a room piped with early Beatles music, I couldn't help but think otherwise.
Beside each drawing on display was a small blurb describing Lennon's apparent inspiration for the piece and clearly written by someone desperate to find a hidden meaning. Often, descriptions were wistful and tried combining Lennon's interest in Eastern philosophy to a random scribble on a piece of scrap paper. One blurb went so far as to claim that the ex-Beatle had actually predicted his untimely death in the sketch.
Even more disturbing was the used car salesman approach of one of the vendors at the exhibit. Walking from group to group, an excessively tanned gentleman in Bermuda shorts would continually interrupt conversations with a sales pitch about all the wonderful reasons to purchase a Lennon print - making me wonder if he might suddenly mention its stunning gas mileage or Consumer Reports safety record.
Where I was expecting to find a celebration of Lennon's life and work, I discovered a hollow marketing campaign. The event wasn't about interacting with Lennon's art but was simply about selling crap to people who don't know any better. Generally, I'm all for letting those with plenty waste their cash and hand it over for a good cause, but I'm frustrated by the careless use of the Walrus' legacy.
Lennon was a unique musician who gave us some of the best songs written in the last half century and was killed just as he hit his stride as a solo artist. Rather than celebrating a life interrupted on humbler terms, "In My Life" tries to supersize the performer into mythic status and cash in. While the results are ultimately for charity, the cheapening of the songwriter's career equates him more with McDonald's than Mozart.
In describing his fame, Lennon once remarked, "The postman wants an autograph, the cab driver wants a picture, the waitress wants a handshake - everyone wants a piece of you." In the 25 years since his death, it seems that little has changed, thanks in part to the sales machine of the Lennon estate. And so, it may be worth taking a step back to place the singer in a better context: not as some transcendent being from across the universe who divined his early death in a doodle, but as someone who simply reflected his world and reminded us that a working-class hero is something to be.
Get a better look at John Lennon's life and political activism in "The U.S. vs. John Lennon" in theaters this September. Also check out Jann Wenner's extensive 1971 interview with Lennon at rollingstone.com/lennonpodcast.
For more essays and articles visit www.len-sousa.com.
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