Material Culture

The Material Culture of the Dead

On this page I am going to continue researching a theme first approached while completing my Masters degree in Design History & Material Culture, at NCAD, Dublin.

Material Culture, a relatively new academic field, encompasses a variety of methods and perspectives for the critical inquiry of social uses and roles of material objects in culture. At NCAD, the study is described thus:

Daniel Miller defines the study of modern material culture as an “inherently multidisciplinary space where a number of disciplines converge.”  Approaches from history, archaeology, geography, design, economics, sociology and literature are all equally relevant contributions.  Berger (2004) asserts that “material culture challenges the student of everyday life to discover how objects in any social world are produced, received, and experienced” and “to explore the boundaries between objects, their uses, and practices.”

To paraphrase Chuck Palahniuk, author of ‘Fight Club’: “The things you own end up owning you”

My focus on this page is various meditations on the ‘material culture of the dead’ – that is, I’m going to discuss and present various thoughts concerning the use of objects as implemented in various cultures’ relationships with their deceased. Yet as the field of ‘material culture’ is so vastly interdisciplinary and multifaceted,  I will inevitably digress into some subjects outside this focus.

Andy Warhol, 58, a writer, philosopher, film-maker and artist whose portraits of soup cans, celebrities and the social scene made him perhaps the best-known figure in what has come to be known as pop art, died yesterday at New York Hospital-Cornell Medical Center in New York City after a heart attack. (source: washingtonpost.com)

While never having been an avid fan of Warhol’s art, I am interested in his life and curious personality. Warhol had an unmistakeably influential impact on Western art and even our culture. His art can very much be seen as a reflection on the growing obsession with materiality, possessions and objects in American society (i.e.: quantity, not quality).

With this in mind, I was curious to research how Warhol, noted as having been particularly religious, had been buried. Specifically I was interested to find out what objects had been used in his burial – was he buried with anything that reflected his passion for our material-culture (perhaps some cans of soup…). As it turns out, Warhol had a relatively modest burial, much more respectful than the ‘time capsule’ array of junk I had at first suspected:

“His coffin was a solid bronze casket with gold plated rails and white upholstery. Warhol was dressed in a black cashmere suit, a paisley tie, a platinum wig, and sunglasses. He was posed holding a small prayer book and a red rose…. The coffin was covered with white roses and asparagus ferns.”

Fairly uneventful, though of some interest he had been buried with “a copy of Interview magazine, an Interview t-shirt, and a bottle of the Estee Lauder perfume “Beautiful” (source: wikipedia.org). Also, as seen above his grave is quaintly decorated with the ubiquitous soup cans.

Le Roi est mort, vive le Roi!

Moving the dialogue from Warhol, the so-called ‘Prince of Pop’, to the King himself seems appropriate enough. The connections between these two, in cultural regard alone, are sublime. Jackson’s music and stage show took the aesthetics of pop culture to new heights – in regard to popularity and fame, fortune and ultimately notoriety. Warhol himself recognized this, producing a suitably pop-icon portrait of the King of Pop in 1984 (see here).

The level of Jackson’s success worldwide and the global obsession with his music, image and merchandising came to its peak while Warhol was still alive – 1982’s ‘Thriller’ is still the biggest selling album of all time.  I remember as child during this era, being the envy of my friends by owning the most Michael Jackson collector trading cards. By the time of Warhol’s death (1987), the then-dubbed ‘Wacko Jacko’ had obviously begun slipping into a parallel reality, a state of pop-ethereality that Warhol himself (who was quoted as saying his own life felt like watching a television show) may not have dared to imagine. He clearly had ascended to a state of pop-consciousness higher then any previous icon had thought possible.

His tragic and sudden death last year took the world by surprise; news of the event reportedly led to huge spikes in Internet traffic and crashed web-sites as fans and otherwise bored net-citizens searched for details. The world, already feeling pessimistic with the financial recessions and the global credit-crisis, needed to grieve. From political leaders across the globe came messages of condolence. It was clear that the King was dead, and a ceremony fit for such royalty was deemed appropriate and necessary.

Jackson, never one to disappoint his fans, provided a send-off that was suitably grandiose; his memorial service, held in Los Angeles and reportedly watched by a billion people around the world, was an eerily well-coordinated event, reminiscent perhaps of Jackson’s own mega-shows. With all the embellishment, splendor and ritual one would expect to see for a Pope, the star-filled and teary event seemed set to pull the world together in this most challenging moment. Such a display of glitter and emotion also seemed destined to wipe clear the previous twenty years of public scorn and suspicion under which Jackson had lived. As one famous attendee commented: “perhaps now they will leave you alone.”

The King of Pop himself made his final grand entrance during that ceremony, his coffin carried out by his brothers who each wore a single, white sequined glove. The casket was made of solid-bronze, but fittingly plated in 14-karat gold. On top rested Jackson’s golden crown, with a rhinestone monogram bearing his initials.

The sense of hyper-reality surrounding the ceremony and public mourning seemed appropriately fantastical. While in reality we had simply lost an embattled singer and entertainer, the theatrical elaborateness alluded to something greater. Jackson’s life, and the man himself had been anything but normal, his entire existence had been a public show and it was only appropriate for his burial would follow suit.

The materiality surround his burial was also fully fitting, not to mention the subsequent revival of Jackson-related hyper-merchandising, a best-selling posthumous album release and catalogs full of must-have collectibles. The King of Pop is dead, but his image, marketing and profitability, which always were so much bigger than the man himself, will no doubt forever remain part of our culture.