ANONYMOUS ARTIST
It was the season to touch your toes in the waters of the seven seas:
We were like two giant naked Komodo Dragons: We were like two dragons gnawing on the fat of a water buffalo: We were naked giant dragons hissing at each other like a giant gas leak before an explosion. We stood upright: The artist threw the whole alphabet of expletives in my face.
In more than four decades as a photographer, there has never been a more ripe time to shoot “the portrait”. It could have been a single frame from James Cagney’s “Man of a Thousand Faces”. Each arc of eyes, lips, cheeks and the flow of hair was made for a portrait moment: A portrait of an irrational man: The portrait of a nightmare: I finally saw the ego of a monster in the manner of a naked giant Komodo Dragon.
The photograph might have been a masterpiece. But that artist was dead to me. The portrait needs to be a celebration and dance between the camera and the subject who may or may not illuminate his/her colors. It need not be a confrontation of ego and art.
I saw the facts through my viewfinder. I saw what the portrait needs. I walked out of the studio that day sans portrait.
Street Portrait
Portraiture is akin to archaeology. You enter the mind and soul of a man or woman. You are digging to discover their treasures. Volumes of histories live in the person(s) whose emotional vault has unbeknownst to the self, suddenly and unmistakably open to be robbed of what is clearly part of the heart: The subjects’ vulnerability.
Philip Johnson
Philip Johnson
One of my most enjoyable days shooting a portrait was a symphony of pleasures. The wily genius of a man who shared his life experiences and intuitively begged me to realize that he was sharing all but his nakedness.
The moment a soul speaks to you, the camera, the portrait photographer has to recognize what is being shared and “snippety snap snap” a simple particle of whoever the self is, is captured.
Portraiture is the science and art of something that not a single person unequivocally understands.
But the relationship between the camera and the moments is the most unmistakable invitation to a dance that has existed for nearly three hundred years.
The moment with Philip Johnson might have been my “Zorba” moment. We danced. It was a mystifying pace that may be best seen cinematically. Yet each frame was an image about Philip and the photographer. The camera is quite equipped to capture a nanosecond. The camera captured many memorable moments. Philip was ninety years old. It would be impossible to say, “this was Johnson”. The reality reflected over five hours of a day was merely another film frame.
The Couple
Joan and John
The day I photographed Joan Didion and John Gregory Dunne was about the meeting of fellow dancers. We did not merely share stories of the mind, but we paired our lives. We stood a few generations apart. We could have been dancing a Tango: A moment where Joan, John and Richard became dancers sharing of intertwining lives. Three travelers of minds, cities, countries and experiences made a singular moment in a single frame of film.
I have always thought that we were in the frame, not merely Joan and John. I participated. It should never be he or she, it is always we in the frame.
I have died a few thousand times when the portrait becomes human. I have only once encountered the naked giant Komodo Dragon. It was the most distasteful experience as a photographer.
Joan and John helped me realize that making a portrait can be a “soft shoe” a pirouette or an Astaire. Most importantly it is a symphony of movement.
Everyone I Have Known
Today I shoot everything architectural. When I think back on my mind as a portrait photographer, there is no single truth, there is only the ability to engage the mind as an archaeologist seeking evidence that the moment was there.
Is there a greater moment than the “aha” moment.
I would be lying if the tiniest moment of discovery was not worth a celebration.
Portraiture is not about the whole, it is merely about a kaleidoscope of microscopic windows.
John Baldessari
Jim Dine
Peter Zumthor
Peter Beard
Andy Warhol