Yesterday I had the extreme joy of hearing Bruce Davidson talk about his life and work. This guy has done it all. After winning the only major high school prize from Kodak for photography, he then goes on to win the first NEA grant for photography, become a major player at Bresson's cooperative photo agency: Magnum Photos. Frelanced for Life magazine, served in the army, was a fashion photographer for Vogue, and basically produced one of the major bodies of work that chronicled the poverty of Spanish Harlem. Once that book was published the US Senate took up the issue of overpopulation of East 100th Street and began to finally help that rich in cluture and dignity area that just needed some care.
One of the best, if not the best visiting artist lecture I have ever witnessed. Why no one was filming it will remain a mystery to me. After sweeping through twenty or so images with a carefully constructed monologue about his early life, he points up at a photo and says "that was lefty, I met him a few years later." The image on the screen is of a youth showing his tatoos to the camera. Davidson: "He's now a police detective. This guy, Chuck, we lost him a few years ago in prison." Every time he stopped the slides he would talk about reconnecting with the people photographed. Being invited back to block parties and engagement parties on East 100th Street.
The life of a great photographer and more importantly a wonderful man is something to celebrate. The magic of his photographs comes from his attitude of giving dignity and hope through his images. For four years he rode the subway to Central Park with "a bag of Cheese sandwiches for the bums, nuts for the squerels, and feed for the birds." He would approach people with kind and genuine intent of getting to know them before taking a photo. When he got to a masterful image of a woman in fur with two dogs on either side, he said "I don't go to people and say, can I photograph you. I say hey, what kind of dogs are those, and ask if I can pet them." This simple elevation of the subject is uncommon in the world around us. Part of the reason he claims to lack any ability to do news photojournalism I think comes from the fact that the photographer is not supposed to form a relationship with the subject. The Hypocratic Oath of photography makes young students feel as if they have to keep secrets and hide from the subjects. Well if you don't actually converse with the subjects, or establish some relationship why shouldn't they be suspect of intent.
Last quarter a student of mine began a project photographing in her terms "white trash" of Covington, KY. Her blurry photos from the window of her pasing car gave a feeling of survalence, fear, and something inapropriate. I posed the question, why didn't you get to know this woman wearing a Tweety Bird Shirt. And I was informed that the lady was mean looking, and didn't want to talk to anyone. Again I asked her, did you get out of the car and shake her hand? To which the student replied, "it wouldn't be good if I actually liked the person."
In my short time as an educator I am troubled by the concept that everything is a game revolving around power. The photographer must, in student's minds, have power over the subject, power over the painting, power over observational drawing, power over the ironic content. When will they let the world move them to awe? When will they let images wash irony and sarcasm away and refill their minds with potentiallity, connectivity, and humanity?
In this Art Department the students act like animals in a Pound. When a warden approaches to take them to be put down they bark, howl, and show their teeth for fear of no longer being a dog. When someone comes to look at buying them they coo and lick and attempt to be as pitifully loveable as possible. But never do they take responsibility for the other side of their behavior. Never to they get to the truth. That they are an animal scared of making mistakes and will not let go long enough to experience the freedom of who is actually inside them.
The image above was taken on a Sunday in the morning before church. The woman asked him why he wasn't going to church. He said this subway is my church. To which she responded, "maybe, but you still need to get to church." I hope my students find their churches eventually.
