What Becomes a Legend Most: A Biography of Richard Avedon by Philip Gefter 3.2 stars.
Somewhere in Long Island there are some wedding photos worth millions
Richard Avedon liked to get his shoes shined every day.
That makes sense. Avedon was one of the most successful photographers of his time. He was paid millions of dollars to photograph celebrities like Marilyn Monroe and Jackie Kennedy. His work defined fashion photography and was exhibited at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. He was a celebrity who seemed to live on caviar and champagne. He dealt, and dealt successfully, in the world of appearances. Of course, he got his shoes shined every day.
At times, he longed to feel more deeply. Haunted by the desire for something more, Avedon went to psychoanalysis every day for decades, trying to access deeper feelings and emotions, but never really felt successful at it. He was unable to escape his fascination with what was on the surface. That’s not great for a patient in analysis, but it’s not a bad trait for a photographer.
And so, every day, Avedon, the man obsessed with surfaces, went to get his shoes polished. One day, the shoe shine guy asked what he did for a living. Avedon said he was a photographer. The guy suddenly perked up. Having no clue who his customer was, he decided to give him a break. “Listen,” he said to Richard Avedon, one of the most famous, sought after photographers in the world, “my daughter is getting married out in Long Island and I’m going to let you take the pictures!”
Amused, Avedon took the job.
Best wedding photos ever.
There is something almost noble, even spiritual, about being shallow. You can cause yourself a great deal of unhappiness by always trying to read between the lines instead of just reading the lines themselves. Wondering what other people really mean and what they’re really thinking is usually a dead end. A life spent caring only about what’s on the surface is the same kind of shallow existence that Zen monks strive for.
If he ever found any sense of emotional progress, it came not in therapy, but at work. Towards the end of his father’s life, Avedon took a series of portraits of the older man. At first, his father, who had been awful during his son’s childhood, worked hard to present himself as a wise, benevolent old man, but Avedon kept taking pictures. And eventually, after many sessions, Avedon’s father’s poses dropped away, revealing sadness, anger and confusion. Avedon hadn’t dug for it, not exactly. A camera can’t photograph what isn’t there. But a photographer can wait, patiently and be there when a surface changes.
Richard Avedon is, in some ways, evidence of the distressing possibility of our own perfection. He craved respect, but didn’t get it till very late in life. He longed for a kind of depth he felt he didn’t have, which in the end, he didn’t really need. By focusing entirely on what was visible, he saw everything there was to see.
Everything he was and needed to be was right there on the surface all along.
I somehow missed this one. Actually a profound discussion of shallowness. I sincerely doughy that a man who went to analysis everyday was that shallow. Sounds more like PTSD from his childhood
Another great one. Perfect.