Richard Avedon, in a self-portrait
It is invasive to ask a person why he doesn’t think he is interesting, so the inquiry must be handled indirectly. Even with the yellow caution light blinking in my head I sometimes go too far, and people chafe. I hope they forgive me.
I was prompted to think of this when my copy of Performance arrived recently. The book contains a gallery of Richard Avedon’s portraits of performers. Several things are true of the people in the book that are not true of most of us.
For starters, they are willing, and probably are thrilled, to be in front of the camera. At a minimum, if they are afraid they conceal the fact. It is their exuberance that appeals to us. They can’t seem to pack enough of themselves into the frame at one time, and we as observers find a vicarious release in that.
We were very lucky. We were raised by parents who took seriously their responsibility to be strong links in the chain of generations. —Carl Sagan
Mr. Avedon’s subjects have no desire for the picture taken of them to look like other pictures. They want to leave a unique mark on the photograph. With this energy they are able to summon up original, often outrageous poses and expressions.
The soul prospers in an environment that is concrete, particular, and vernacular. It feeds on the details of life, on its vitality, its quirks, and its idiosyncracies. Therefore nothing is more suitable for care of the soul than family, because the experience of family includes so much of the particulars of life.—Thomas Moore, in Care of the Soul
They draw on their experience to create an exciting image. Perhaps they are actors. They bring a big experience to the set, and they display elements of it for the camera.
They are not worried about being embarrassed. Richard Avedon’s self-portrait accompanies this post. Does he look like he wants a portrait that every viewer will understand?
Performers often publish autobiographies, and family members write biographies of their famous relatives. Why is this experience reserved for celebrities? My guess is, and it remains a guess, that people don’t think they are sufficiently interesting.
The book contains some text written about Mr. Avedon. I think it is wonderful that a person is profiled in an appreciative way by people who knew him well. I’m curious why we don’t do this for us common folk. It must be a rich and grounding experience to be either subject or writer. Michelle wrote a complimentary piece about me, and I love it.
We don’t heed Carl Sagan’s advice, nor that of Thomas Moore. This post is part of my larger campaign to remind people of the usefulness of preserving the details of their lives. My family was an example of how not to do it. My paternal grandfather was born August 30, 1892 in Springdale, Arkansas. I can barely fill a typewritten page with facts about him, and everyone who knew the facts is dead. Is it a coincidence that our family was dysfunctional, and that people dismissed one another because they really were not all that interesting?
I campaign for people to take better pictures, to blog about one another, and to publish coffee table books about the family and family members, and it is not in the name of vanity. I do it in support of the wellbeing of the soul. Thanks to Carl Sagan and Thomas Moore for setting the foundation for this work.
