My brother once described Mr. Larry Young as his “cheat sheet to life.” Granted this was after he’d gotten over the fact that Larry was dating our mother and after he no longer searched for his picture posting on the bulletin at the post office for America’s most wanted. And while the comment was made in passing it is, in my eyes, one of the greatest compliments and one that is rarely bestowed because it’s seldom deserved. It’s not as if Larry has any secret short cuts or special tricks, he lived and lives a full life, one that enables him to impart that crucial nugget of information that makes things go off in your head and connect the dots. And like any good cheat sheet he does so discreetly. If you were to meet Larry face to face, you’d think yourself in front of an unassuming country boy, silver from years of living both the high and low life, but still colorful and with a muted southern twang to boot; his blue laughing eyes the only part hinting at the deep ocean of knowledge just a story away.

Sometimes we spend our whole lives searching for things that are often right in front of us. Throughout my education, I’ve always wanted something of a mentor, someone to guide me and show me the ropes. I’ve sort of romanticized the notion of apprenticeship, searching for a master crafstman who would pass on his/her knowledge, skill, and experience and I, the chosen disciple if you will, would greedily soak it up like a sponge.

After more than my fair share of professions from public relations to hair transplants (yes, I once assisted in the rejuvenation of receding hairlines) to my current affair graphic design, what I reluctantly came to was that my romanticized, imagined notions were exactly that–in a world where techonologies change so rapidly that by the time you’ve learned something it’s almost old news, the idea of a traditional mentor is somewhat obsolete, overtaken by the next software bundle or programming script. Think about how many things you use on a daily basis today that didn’t even exist a few years ago. Things as seemingly innocuous as cell phones and Google. And yet these technologies have drastically changed our learning environments, leveling the playing field and allowing a sort of youthful innovation unhampered by routine and tradition. Take for example a look at New York’s recent fashion week, where front row, amidst fashion icons like Anna Wintour sat absolute newcomers unbeknownst to the world but for the creation of blogs, taping away at laptops whose price tags were probably a fraction of the cost of the stilettos sashaying by on the runway and to the outrage of those poor souls who spent the greater part of their 30 odd year lifetimes battling their way to the front row only to find they’d been out maneuvered by a gay Filipino fashion blogger. Which is not to say I don’t share in the enthusiasm of this ever transferring world…let’s face it, I sit here on the subway, writing this on my iPhone with a widget for WordPress. However, I also find myself still clinging to something. In the hurry and hustle amidst tweets, blog postings, and social networking; in the striving to be in the know with the latest technologies, what are we missing, or more accurately what are we really learning?

I think there is a general consensus beginning. Good magazine’s recent issue entitled “The Slow Issue” was devoted to the subject of, wait for it…slowing down, focusing on “quality, authenticity, and longevity rather than a mindless adherence to the faster and cheaper ethos.” It struck something, it made me once again look back at my discarded notion of mentoring and redefine it, or perhaps define it rightly for the first time.

In Paulo Coelho’s novel Brida, there’s a line on page 42, which reads, “Learning something means coming into contact with a world which you know nothing. In order to learn, you must be humble.” To put yourself in a position for which you are completely unfamiliar and allow yourself to be humbled by a greater knowledge–that act itself is a worthy lesson and one that’ll prove its usefulness tenfold if you are able to master it–and it’s one of the qualities I admire most in Larry. The breadth and scope if his stories are as numerous and varied as his body of work and yet despite that, he is prepared to leave all of it at the door and learn whatever lesson you have to offer.

Think about what you can learn when you aren’t bound by the limitations of what you know.

So Larry Young–illustrator, photographer, artist, sculptor, painter, teacher, filmmaker, and father, will you be my mentor?

Browse Timeline

• « Brooklyn Mobile
• » Travel down the rabbit hole…

Comments ( 3 )

Add a Comment