I wrote this story as a paper for my History of Photography class (ARTH 3600) in September 2010.
Writing dialogue is something I am not accustomed to. There were voices in my head...each with distinct personalities. The photographers in the conversation you are about to read are Timothy O'Sullivan, H.P. Robinson, and Julia Margaret Cameron.
Today I Asked Why
“I’m late, I’m late, I’m late!” I loudly mutter as I run through the door to my café. I like to call it “my” café because the actual owner let me decorate the south wall with whatever I wanted. I don’t know…it makes it feel like mine. I chose nothing fancy, nothing too extravagant. This large wall has one single photograph. I dare say this photograph is the best portrait ever taken. But that’s just my humble opinion. The image enshrined on the south wall is none other than Richard Avedon’s Marilyn Monroe.
Beautiful, isn’t it? Isn’t she? The rawness in her posture and facial expression is rare enough to view in person, let alone capture in a photograph… Anyway, as I mentioned, I was late for work. As I ran inside, the opaque cloudy sky released itself and, in a heartbeat, it was pouring. As I stood in the doorway, I could already sense my boss wasn’t even upset I was late. Why? Because he knows what a downpour means: customers! A café is prime refuge from a deluge. I unexpectedly get nudged from behind. I turn around to see a dozen people under the awning wishing to get inside. I step out of the way as the customers quickly trickle inside.
Being the lowly busboy, I rush around the café gathering empty glasses, mugs, plates, and bowls, clearing room for our new wet customers. Once everyone was settled and we began to get a handle on things, I glanced to the south wall and smiled at Marilyn. Sitting at the table immediately across from her was an unusual trio of regular customers. I didn’t notice them come in with the thunderstorm rush…were they here before I arrived? Front row seat or not, they always watch Marilyn from wherever they lounge. Today I asked why.
“Why? Why?!?” the woman jokingly jeers back at me. “Because it’s so beautiful, so soft, so…haunting! It’s simply stunning!”
“I honestly don’t understand why you two like this picture so much,” the older gentleman interjects. “It’s just another plain picture of Marilyn Monroe. There are thousands of them and this one is no different. It’s not even artistic!” At this, the woman flushes an impatient shade of red but continues to sit and listen. The man continues, “Avedon just snapped this picture and did nothing to it – not one dodge, not a single trick, and not a thought of conjuration. A child could do that!”
The younger man lightheartedly steps in, “What is a ‘conjuration’ anyway?” The three of them laugh as the younger man looks back at me and says, “I’m Timothy, by the way.” He points to the other two and introduces them as Julia and H.P. I introduce myself as I grab a chair to sit with them. “Don’t let me interrupt,” I say. “This was just getting exciting!”
Julia draws us back into the conversation by asking H.P., “What would need to be different for you to accept this as a piece of art?”
“Oh, so many things!” he replies. “First, the picture should have been taken with her looking more cheerful and less awkward. Photography should elevate the subject and avoid such awkward forms.”
“But,” interjects Timothy, “that’s why I find this portrait to be so striking! Her ‘awkwardness’ makes this portrait different from her others. I haven’t taken many portraits myself, but I know a good one when I see one. Unfortunately, I instead know war. And I know how to capture it in a way to convey its horror and lack of glamour. My goal was never to romanticize such atrocities. I wanted to show the world the death and dread it produces. Avedon took a picture of a devastated battlefield here! Marilyn looks like a mess compared to the thousands of glamorous shots we typically see of her. Marilyn Monroe was a bombshell in so many ways and Avedon captured her post-detonation.”
Timothy’s passion causes the rest of us to sit in silent awe for a moment. Julia then slowly and softly breaks the silence saying, “As I’ve been listening,” her tone becoming more delighted, “I noticed how perfectly the sharpness of her face is balanced with the softness of everything else. You two would probably call the soft glow ‘out of focus.’ But what is focus – and who has a right to say what focus is the legitimate focus?”
H.P. jumps at this comment and says, “The blurriness of her torso would make it impossible to even use in a combination print. Much more planning and thought would have to be put into this portrait to make it useful in my art photography.”
“Planning and thought?” Timothy questions. “Words spoken by a man who photographs solely in his studio! When you’re out in the field documenting war or landscape, you record precisely what you see through the ground glass and do absolutely nothing to alter it.”
“I don’t alter the photographs, Timothy,” H.P. calmly rebuts, “I combine them. I am following the encouragement to ‘not merely amuse, but to instruct, purify, and ennoble’ with my art photography. I will admit, with the world now knowing Marilyn’s rather tragic story, this image could certainly be used in an allegory to educate the public. I just believe, for a portrait to be considered art, the ‘artist’ needs to have more involvement than simply pressing a button.”
“Allegories can be done without combination printing, you know,” says Julia. “You’ve seen my allegories. Yes, I did pose them, but I posed everything at once for a single photograph as to avoid combination printing. I find the printing process for a single photograph to be laborious enough... Printing from multiple negatives simultaneously would drive me bonkers! H.P., you said this portrait could possibly be used in an allegory. In my opinion, this portrait of Marilyn is an allegory on its own, combining my two favorite styles of art photography – portrait and allegory. However, Avedon didn’t pose her. It was completely unplanned. This singular moment could never be planned out in a studio for a combination print.”
“Exactly,” confirms Timothy. “Avedon’s Marilyn Monroe combines the real and the ideal, sacrificing nothing of Truth. So let us take it for what it is rather than trying to reinvent it. I really have to agree with Julia here…”
“I wouldn’t have expected any different, Timothy,” says H.P. with a smirk on his face. After a short pause, H.P. looks me in the eye and asks, “So, what do you think?”
“Me?” I hesitantly reply. “Well…um…I’m a little biased toward this photograph…”
Timothy laughs saying, “You think you’re biased? You’ve been listening to the conversation, haven’t you?”
Many ideas and quotations were borrowed from Beaumont Newhall’s The History of Photography, pages 73-78. Though they are not explicitly cited, most of the quotes and ideas are recognizable from class discussion alone.