"The Trip: Andy Warhol's Plastic Fantastic Cross-Country Adventure" by Deborah Davis

ISBN: 976-1-4767-0351-0 Atria Books

Andy Warhol, is blessed with having a lot of good books on him.  In many ways, I think he's the people's artist.  I like his artwork, but I'm not a huge fan.  On the other hand, he is really an artist that is not about taste, but more about production, vision, and how an outcast can influence a culture.  And no doubt, he is probably one of the most influential Americans ever.  Deborah Davis wrote a fascinating book on a specific car trip, Warhol took in 1963, with Taylor Mead and Wynn Chamberlain as co-drivers and Gerard riding in the back with Andy.  From NYC to Los Angeles (Santa Monica to be specific).   Or as Warhol says about Los Angeles, it's all Hollywood to him.

Warhol came at the right time, and of course, at the right place.  He had his second one-man show at the Ferus Gallery, and also started working on a film "Tarzan and Jane Regained... Sort Of.  Which featured Dennis Hopper, Taylor Mead (as Tarzan, of course), Wallace Berman, Naomi Levine as Jane, and Tosh Berman (me) as Boy.  Assisted by the incredibly talented Gerard Malanga, Warhol out of the blue decided to do a feature length film then and there.  Inspired by a freeway ride in the valley, they saw an exit saying "Tarzana," therefore why not do a Tarzan film.  There are many opinions about this film, and most people told me that they hated it - but alas, it is the ultimate portrait of Los Angeles art scene in 1963.  To me, it's a home movie.  Whatever it's art or a great film, that is not so important to me.   Warhol also went to the Marcel Duchamp retrospective at Pasadena as well.    1963 was a fab year, till Kennedy was killed in November.  Then things turned to shit.  But, this book is about things before the shit.

Although the foundation of the book is about the car trip from New York to "Hollywood," it is really an introduction to Andy Warhol's aesthetic and his social world at the time.  This is not a detailed critique of Warhol's work, but more of an appreciation of him but also the world of New York and Los Angeles art world of that time and place.  One also gets information about the Ford Falcon, and how it was designed to be the people's car.   Davis is a very good writer, and she has a grasp or a hold on the nature of Pop Art, and its by-products such as graphic design, billboards, and even commercial labels.  In my opinion, Warhol wasn't the first 20th century artist to understand the nature of the 'visual' world of advertising and the importance of public images seen privately or in the cushioned world of "fine art."   But he was clearly the figure that people attached themselves to - due to a mixture of his personality, visual appearance, and on many levels - his straight ahead approach to the world around him as an artist -which I think, people picked up on as well.  Warhol speaks to the masses.  And he did so without dumbing the issues or his vision down.


- Tosh Berman

December 31, 2014

December 31, 2014

Oddly enough it was exactly a year ago, when I was at a new year’s party at Tricia and Mike’s house, where I sat by myself, and thought, "I need to have a new life for the upcoming new year."  I have always had a fantasy of being a criminal - not one that would kill or harm people or even property, but the identity where people would look at me and say “he’s a criminal.” Or at the very least I would hear people slightly talking behind my back saying “Tosh, I hear he’s up to no good, if you get my drift.” The “drift” will be common knowledge based on false-hood.   Nevertheless if I just keep my mouth shut, people will be able to tell tales about me, and therefore a narrative or two will come out of the woodwork.   There are only a few people who know me.   If I was going to make myself into a visual pie, 50% know of me due to my father the artist, 30% due that I’m a publisher, and 15% know me as a writer.   Then there will be 5% who know me as an actor.   Not often, but every few years, I get approached by people due to the fact that I played the role of “Boy” to Taylor Mead’s Tarzan in Andy Warhol’s “Tarzan and Jane Regained… Sort of.” Since then, I have acted off and on, mostly in the film works of Relah Eckstein, but without a doubt my most famous role is “Boy.”

Over-all my reputation is quite solid.  The only crack in the image was when I was discovered in someone’s house, eating their toast in their kitchen. I didn’t know these people, or never been to their home, but I had the urge to go to a stranger’s kitchen and make myself some toast.   The thing is that they only had whole wheat bread, and I always prefer Wonder bread.   I snuck out of the house, purchased a loaf of bread, and once again broke into their home, to make myself the perfect toast.  At that point, I was noisy in the kitchen, because I was trying to find the butter knife, and obviously I was going through a lot of drawers in the kitchen.   The owner of the house (I think he was or is the owner of that structure) came into the kitchen and asked who I was, and why I was there.   It was a good question (or two), and my first reaction was to tell him that I was a writer - and to be perfectly honest, I haven’t the slightest idea why I was in their kitchen.   I told him, that I act by my impulses, and I never really think about it.  I offered him a piece of bread, and asked him if he wanted toast.  He said yes, but he preferred the whole wheat bread.  I said “of course.” I took a slice and put it in his toaster and I sat down at the kitchen table.  He sat down with me, and we didn’t say a word to each other.   He had his toast, I had mine, and after we finished eating, I told him I had to go.  I said goodbye and left his home.

Since he’s a neighbor and only lived maybe a block or two away from me, I ran into him this past twelve months.  Mostly here and there, but commonly in the Ralphs Market on Glendale Bouvelard.  One time I saw him, I was in the bread aisle, and our eyes connected to each other.  I just pointed to the bread and shrugged my shoulders.   He then walked away like that moment didn’t exist, and perhaps it was best to forget the entire incident.  I will never do that again.

On the other hand, I have become very attracted to paintings by Henri Matisse, but only his still life portraits of food on a table.   It didn’t exactly make me hungry, but when I look at these paintings or the artwork in various books I have in my collection, I felt vacant.  I very much wanted to become part of the painting, but I just couldn't. The distance between the image of the food on the table, and where I stand, seemed like a long highway.  Perhaps an endless highway, where I will never reach that table.

Now it’s December 31, 2014, and I feel that my life in the next twelve months will be one of radical changes.  I do not have proof of this, there are no letters stating my existence for the next year, but I just feel in my bones that the year 2015 will hold some promise, and some failures as well.  I’m feeling very hesitant to leave the house, because I fear I won’t be able to get back in.  Maybe that is why I went to a stranger’s house, in hopes of expanding my territory - but alas, I now know that was a mistake.   Nevertheless one learns from their mistakes, and as I write, I look at the front door of my living room, that leads to the outside world.  After I complete this sentence, I will get up, and go, and leave my home.

April 11, 2014

April 11, 2014

Like Marcel Proust commenting on the cookie that brought up memories, the Sony transistor radio serves the same role in my life.  It was probably the first real serious object that I owned.   I haven’t the foggiest idea what the radio originally cost, but it was a magical entrance to another world.  As I was going through my storage boxes I ran across the radio, and I couldn’t believe I still had it.   For me, the first time I seriously listened to music was on this hand held machine.  The sound or the reception was never perfect, but it somehow added a sense of magic to the process.   There is what you heard when you see musicians play live, and then there is music you hear in a recording studio, and then of course on the turntable, where we had one huge speaker - mono only in the mid 1960s.  But the transistor radio had its own sound, which was tinny, and of course thinking of it now, it would be really annoying to listen to music that way.  But alas, my earliest impression of contemporary music that I liked, was on the transistor radio.  Also it was the first medium or tool for me to use that separate me from my parent’s taste.  Otherwise, I would get my music from my parents record collection and turntable.  My radio allowed me to wander into another world, where only I, can decide what to hear and when to hear it.

The two radio stations that were important to me were KHJ and KRLA.  The latter was actually more important to me because it appeared to be more Beatle related than KHJ.  That was likely to be an illusion on my part, but also the radio station had a newspaper called KRLA Beat, that was sort of like Rolling Stone for the teenage mind.  It was in this publication where I first started reading about music or I should say rock an’ roll stars as they were happening at that time.   KHJ was more personable due to it's DJ, specifically the Real Don Steele.

When I was close to 11 or 12, I went camping on the beach, which was a total horror show for me.  I can never understand the allure of nature for people. It is like they actually prefer dirt than a nice clean lighted place.  The point of time when the hot afternoon turns into a bitter cold evening is disgusting to me.  I remember spending most of the time in the tent that we brought with us.  Even that, the temperature was just so hot, but still, I didn’t want to be outside. So I put up with the heat to read the comic books that I brought with me to fight off the boredom of sand, blue sky, and ocean.  The transistor radio brought a sense of relief for me, because I used it as an object to block out the noise on the beach.  But what was really beautiful to me was playing the radio in the night, and I often would go off by myself near the ocean to sit on the cold sand.  I put the radio by my ear and it was like getting messages from another world.  I couldn’t imagine life without that radio.

Also the use of my imagination kept me alert during our beach holidays.  I imagine myself as Boy, the son of Tarzan.  Often I would imagine that my dad was the King of the Jungle, instead of Johnny Weissmuller.  I would have these elaborate narratives running through my head that I saved my dad and Jane (actually my mom) from some horrible circumstances that went beyond their control.   Those fantasies came with the soundtrack that was on the radio, and I remember actually listening to a program called  “The Shadow” while on the beach as well.  Hearing a show like that was very mysterious and a tad scary -especially in the nighttime on the beach.

Ironically I played “Boy” to Taylor Mead’s Tarzan in an Andy Warhol film, but that’s another narrative.  Nevertheless I am always thankful for Sony for bringing the magic of another world to me.

Andy Warhol's TARZAN AND JANE REGAINED, SORT OF...

The Musuem of Moving Image in New York City are showing an Andy Warhol retrospective, and one of the (many) gems they are showing is a film with my father, Wallace Berman and his son (yours truly) Tosh Berman called "Tarzan and Jane Regained, Sort Of..." Made in 1964.



The film also stars Taylor Mead (as Tarzan) and Dennis Hopper



And Naomi Levine as Jane


My Dad plays the heavy, and fights with Tarzan (Mead). And I am Tarzan's son "Boy." And like all child actors, my life is now in ruins! Nevertheless a part of the film was shot at our house in Beverly Glenn.

The film is playing with the legendary "Blow Job," a classic of big portions.

Saturday, October 20, 6:30 P.M.