No one is defined by a single image
We all know the line from the fairy tale, “Mirror, mirror, on the wall…” The most humble among us hold at least passing interest in the image we present. Mirrors exist to help us control that image. We check to see if there’s spinach in our teeth, how our hair is styled, whether our choice of clothing enhances our physical perception of ourselves. We look once, then look again, then often a third, fourth, and fifth time because, unlike that of the narcissistic queen, our mirrors do not verbally affirm that we’re looking acceptable.
In similar fashion, we look at portraits to reflect how we looked at a specific point in time. We tend to take more pictures when we’re young because we are more likely to approve of the way we look, the degree to which we perceive that our appearance is sufficiently pretty, handsome, sexy, commanding, or happy. We take fewer pictures as we age because, as the queen feared, our external image may not match how we want others to see us, or how we see ourselves.
When I first examine a set of portraits, out of habit, I look first for that “one” picture that ticks off all the boxes for what makes a good portrait. Sometimes it’s easy to find. Other times, there are several choices as to which best meets the established criteria. In every case, though, we find that it is not one image, but the whole set that is necessary to give us a meager hint into the personality of the person in the portrait. Smiling in one, casual in another, playful in a third, there are so many different aspects to a personality that one image cannot contain them all. A single image captures but a single moment. A gallery captures an experience.
Who we are goes beyond what we see in the mirror, though, or can capture in a portrait. There is depth to our being that is only known by our actions and a single action is only a doorway to understanding one’s full character. So, we process images in different ways: color, black-and-white, simple, elaborate, contemporary, or traditional. Each one shows something different about the subject, an additional layer of depth, another hint at their personality.
Yet, even if there were a way to stack them all together, the picture would still be incomplete. No matter how many times one looks in the mirror, there are still things we miss, details others catch that we cannot or will not see in ourselves. The way our smile reveals how we’re feeling. That look in our eyes that betray our fears. The way we tuck one foot behind another in case we need to leave a situation quickly. The firmly-set jaw when we’re determined to succeed. We are complex individuals and a single image never tells more than part of the story.
I fought against making all this week’s photos black-and-white. They would have looked incredible in that format. Yet, what I realized is that doing so ultimately de-emphasized who this person is, their humanity and their personality. Having shot the images on a plain white background, more than one black-and-white felt too flat. So, we went different directions, exploring different themes, creating different emotions.
This is one of the critical points of departure between photography and painting. A painter has one shot and must try in that one shot to cram not only a story but its backstory and possibly even a conclusion all into a frame of pre-defined size. As photographers, we can spread out that task, create more depth overall by doing less with each one. That’s not to say we’re always successful or that one medium excels over another. We do our best and it remains to the viewer to determine whether our work was adequate.
So, if you will, consider each of the images this week as a different facet of the same diamond. There are only ten pictures so you’re still not getting the full portrait. They are incomplete hints at person and personality, each fair and beautiful, but each different in what it shows us.
Click on any of the thumbnails below to view the image full screen. My thanks again to Greg Fleckenstein and Matt Corsaro for their assistance in the studio. Enjoy.
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Washing Away The Stain That Is 2020
A disastrous year for creatives and creativity is one we should leave behind
This is the time of year when everyone inevitably starts looking back at what has happened the past twelve months, partly to remember the good pieces, to memorialize losses, and to try and make some sense of the rest. If this were a normal year, I would be working on getting art submissions ready, updating the website, and deciding what direction I wanted to take for the next twelve months. December has always been busy trying to wrap things up while still allowing sufficient time for family and festivities.
Not this year. I don’t need to tell you what a clusterfuck this year has been. You’ve been experiencing it right along with the rest of us. All our plans went to shit. Drastic measures, some now regrettable, had to be taken. People and opportunities were lost and neither is coming back. Back in March, we were talking about, “when things return to normal,” but we now realize that isn’t going to happen. Even as a vaccine begins to roll out across the United States in the morning, even as the Electoral College meets tomorrow and (presumably) ends our four-year political nightmare, there’s no returning to the lives we once knew. “Normal” has been blown to smithereens and it remains to be seen what replaces it.
Our model for this week’s photos was also the subject of some of our first posts this year. In fact, if there were an award for the most-frequently appearing model this year, she would get it. She occurs so often partly because she shot with us late last year before everything went haywire, and then was the first person to jump back in front of the camera in September when we thought everything was going to be safe. Silly me. I saved this set of pictures for now because even though there were still five months left to the year when we shot them I knew they would be an apt end-of-the-year metaphor.
There is so much of this year I would love to see scrubbed from my mind, and with my brain working the way it is, that quite likely will eventually happen involuntarily. I don’t think I know a creative who at least once this year hasn’t questioned whether they should continue. Many have contemplated ending their lives completely. Some have succeeded. Others had their lives taken from them by a virus that could have, should have, been controlled if only we had leadership that wasn’t more concerned with their own profit and benefit.
Art shows, and subsequently art sales, were shut down after February. Those that did try to come back were less than successful. Buyers and collectors weren’t in the mood to invest, or even go out and look. This leaves creatives struggling for public grants and for those of us who work along the margins of what is publicly acceptable, applying for those rapidly-depleted funds was futile.
What may hurt most is that for all the hardships and difficulties we’ve faced here, I don’t have to look far to find those who have it worse. Friends and colleagues who were just fine a year ago now struggle daily to keep a roof over their heads, food on their table, and medicine available. Not only has a nation turned their backs on them, but many of those they trusted have also abandoned them, some to address their own concerns, others because of political differences, and still others who just couldn’t be bothered.
These images are stark. There’s no noise reduction because that would require softening edges that need to be sharp. There’s no skin treatment because we need to see things for what they are. These images are dark because light has been rare this year. Some images have visible ripple shadows from the light fixture in the shower. Sure, I could have taken those out, but again, it’s a metaphor for how things external to us, well out of our control, distorted our year, our lives, our personal photographs.
I look at these pictures and don’t see anything erotic or sexually alluring. Instead, I see hot water pounding away at tender flesh, dissolving the accumulated stains of this year. Some of those stains were perhaps self-inflicted, but most of the mud and the dirt of the past twelve months was thrown, harshly, carelessly, without any regard for humanity.
I look at these pictures and remember how incredibly hot the water was, how red the model’s skin was from that water, and the fog that filled the room by the time we were done. Taking these pictures was challenging, both technically and artistically. There were plenty of obstacles to overcome. Yet, again, none match the reality of struggling to survive this year.
You have had your own struggles. As you examine these photos perhaps you find in them your own metaphors, your own interpretations of how your life is different now than it was in January.
For all of us, may this be a time of cleansing, the moment where we repudiate all the nonsense, the hyperbole, the hurt, and the pain, and prepare ourselves to start clean in the next year. Yes, we will still have to wear masks. We will still have to avoid crowds and remain socially distant. Best estimates are that it will be this time next year before the US reaches 70% immunity and even that is a best-case scenario. Still, this time we know what we’re facing. We know the challenges. We know what we have to do.
We start clean. We move forward. Naked. Unashamed to be who and what we are.
[tg_masonry_gallery gallery_id=”17525″ layout=”contain” columns=”3″]
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