Winter in Paris is like autumn in New York. It’s in those grey tones of clouds that you feel the French touch, the vie en rose, the delightful and tasty flavour of a macaron, or of a butter croissant with an espresso coffee, served at Fauchon’s. It’s in those night lights, those high heeled shoes, those sales that make you go crazy, boulevards, love spreading, Colette’s, the golden Jeanne of Arc statue, the Concorde square and those infinite, sublime, roof tops from where the Tour Eiffel can be viewed in all its beauty. Paris is a beating heart, a revolutionary creature, fed by what’s chic and à la mode. As I was wandering in the city centre, waiting for the beginning of the haute couture week, walking and talking in Rue Saint-Honoré, it came to my mind that last time I was in Paris I had the chance to visit the Lee Miller exhibit at the Jeau de Paume. As I was close to it, I decided to go and see what was on. I then crossed the road, made my way to Rue de Rivoli, entered the Jardis de Teulieries and saw those amazing two words: Diane Arbus. Saturday, lunch time, a spare few hours, and there I was, ready, with craving eyes.
As a key figure in the history of the 20th century art, Diane Arbus’s exhibition offered more than 200 pictures drawn from private collections and museum; an itinerary along which the spectator is stroke by powerful images accompanied only by the artist’s own titles so to create a real personal and subjective experience. I realized, Diane Arbus’ work remains problematic for many viewers. This amazingly talented artist transgressed the traditional boundaries of portraiture, making pictures of circus and sideshow freaks, many of whom she formed lasting friendships with. She also killed herself, at aged 48, on 26 July 1971. So now, on the 40th anniversary of her death, I thought it was also worth reconsidering her artistic legacy. She undoubtedly felt at ease among the outsiders she photographed. She also seem to experienced a frisson of guilty pleasure when photographing them, you also feel it in many shots with naked individuals or street scenes. Her works make the viewer question not just the reasons for looking people who are pathetic, pitiable, as well as repulsive, but also our own. Arbus’ black and white portraits particularly of those with mental disabilities or physical abnormalities, retain their power to unsettle and disturb the viewer. Whatever the intention was, the cruel often seems to outweigh the tender. With Diane Arbus, as with Nan Goldin, the life and the art are inextricably intertwined. Arbus seemed a great humanist photographer who foresaw a new kind of photographic art. An ‘avantguardiste’, I’d say. She certainly was a trailblazer of a new photographic aesthetic. Raw and unflinching, disturbing and illuminating, pessimistic and narcissistic. Arbus may have felt an enormous empathy with the people she photographed, even if she was not part of them, and however she identified with their outsider status of being. She had her own troubles, but they were of a different order. The work she left is powerful not just because of its dark beauty or its stark vision, but because it asks questions of the viewer about the limits of looking, about the predatory nature of photography, and about our complicity in all of this.
When we look at one of her images, we cannot help feeling that we are intruders or voyeurs, even though her subjects are in a time and place that has vanished. There is a high sense of complicity because the images hold the viewer in a sway. This is her power: she understood the instinctive conflict and did more than anyone to exploit it artistically.
One of the best exhibition ever seen.
DIANE ARBUS
Until February the 5th 2012 – Jeu de Paume, Place de la Concorde – Paris
http://www.jeudepaume.org/
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