Allison and I went to MOMA yesterday to see the current photography exhibit going on: Into the Sunset: Photography’s Image of the American West. We both love photography. There were some old favorites on display (Dennis Hopper’s “Double Standard“, for example – a photograph I love dearly), but lots of new things, and it was interesting – there were a couple of photographers I found myself drawn to, and it almost became a game. At one point, I thought – “Well, I obviously like so-and-so’s work a lot – his stuff is continuing to CALL to me from the wall.”
One photo, by William Gedney, was my favorite in the entire exhibit. I stared at it for maybe 15 minutes. I can’t say what I was thinking or feeling, but I do know that my mind unhinged from itself, and floated off into memories, dreams, reflections. The photo seemed to not just be itself, but something else. It wasn’t didactic, like many of the photos were – trying to “make a comment”. It just was what it was, but the implications were enormous, and very emotional for me. I entered the photo, but not just that – it kind of ushered me into my own past, my own dreams for myself, and what it’s like when … well. Things don’t work out, basically.
It took me some digging on this rainy thundery morning but I found it. I discovered an enormous online archive of Gedney’s stuff – huge – and as I started browsing, I again got lost – in my own thoughts and memories. Some of the images I actually recognize, but many were new to me. He’s unbelievable. He’s got that late 50s-early-to-mid-60s sensibility that really resonates with me. The culture on the cusp of something. Dennis Hopper’s stuff has that too. The “old” world still visible, the coffee shops and late-night diners – the milk bottles on the stoop … but change is coming up from below. William Gedney made many trips across the country during that time, and many of his photos are of migrant workers, protests, Native Americans … and a lot of it is just … OBJECTS. Which is obviously my favorite kind of photograph. Cars at the curb, 1955. A house with a porch at night. An advertisement. There’s something psychotic at work in some of these photos, and I can’t put my finger on it.
The photo that captivated me so much during the exhibit is below the jump.
It’s what started the whole thing. I’ve been thinking about it all night and all morning.
It seems to have something to say to me personally.
Oh wow- I can see why you like it. Dude can’t afford a bed, but he’s got 3 huge, framed photos…the look on his face is haunting.
Yes, and because it’s iconic faces – these glittery movie stars – reminding him of … what? Or who knows, maybe he just crashed there for the night. Whatever the story, it’s just haunting to me. Not to mention the legs under the blanket coming in from the other side.
His face (the bit of it I can see) reminds me of Brad Davis’ face. Or Jeff Buckley.
Wow, thanks! Now I have to go see this exhibit.
These faces seem to be more than just iconic pop symbols to me. To me, they recall the style of Orthodox Christian icons in that their poses and the positioning of the panels themselves. Brando is Hollywood Jesus indeed.
The Gods of some ideal and/or terrible world look on. This man is pondering and desiring them or fearing and fleeing them.?… and Reality is sticking its legs out to greet him in the morning as he enjoys a cigarette.
Haunted and haunting.
Nicholas – Wow, I totally love your spin on it – thank you for basically deepening how I am thinking about it. It does look like a religious triptych – and in that environment seem as unreal and as holy as the Trinity – because how can those people on that mattress on the floor transcend or be resurrected, or whatever?
It really is a brilliant photograph. I wonder what happened to that guy.
Lots of good stuff in the exhibit – hope you get to see it!
There’s something in his manner, suggestive of being in the *middle* of a nervous breakdown, like we just caught him in a moment that’s been happening since before we came, that might make me ask what movie this came from if I didn’t know it was in a photography exhibiot.
Totally, Dorothy. Some of Gedney’s photographs are so intimate that you wonder how he “got” them. He was obviously right there – and either the guy trusted him totally or was so out of it that he couldn’t be bothered to hide his distress from the photographer.
It’s a whole story, right there. Maybe I should write one.