Although Diane Arbus is well-known to many, I am only now studying her life and work. She carved her place in photography’s history by making portraits of “freaks”—circus performers, transvestites, prostitutes, the genetically abnormal, etc. This work, which was quite personal, liberating, and important to her, came after early success as a fashion photographer with her husband Allen. Arbus was prone to frequent periods of deep depression and despair, and would finally commit suicide in 1971.
I have recently developed a strong interest in Arbus, and, at least for a little while, I wasn’t sure why. I’ve not made many pictures of people at all (although I would really like to), let alone unusual-looking people I may see in the street. To suddenly develop a keen interest in Arbus (and in Mary Ellen Mark, but that’s for another day) seemed odd.
But I believe the source of my newfound curiosity came to me recently. What I realized is that Arbus made her art by photographing “outsiders”—people who don’t blend into society anonymously. People who stand out and don’t fit in with the crowds (see photograph above). And that is how I often feel these days in my own home with the very real possibility of a divorce hanging over my head. Like an outsider. Our kids still greet me each day with excitement and beaming smiles, but I feel like my wife couldn’t care less whether I am there or not. I feel like my job is to simply go to work to provide for the family, and then to stay out of my wife’s way. I feel like an outsider in my own home. It hurts terribly, and I don’t know what to do.
I have recently developed a strong interest in Arbus, and, at least for a little while, I wasn’t sure why. I’ve not made many pictures of people at all (although I would really like to), let alone unusual-looking people I may see in the street. To suddenly develop a keen interest in Arbus (and in Mary Ellen Mark, but that’s for another day) seemed odd.
But I believe the source of my newfound curiosity came to me recently. What I realized is that Arbus made her art by photographing “outsiders”—people who don’t blend into society anonymously. People who stand out and don’t fit in with the crowds (see photograph above). And that is how I often feel these days in my own home with the very real possibility of a divorce hanging over my head. Like an outsider. Our kids still greet me each day with excitement and beaming smiles, but I feel like my wife couldn’t care less whether I am there or not. I feel like my job is to simply go to work to provide for the family, and then to stay out of my wife’s way. I feel like an outsider in my own home. It hurts terribly, and I don’t know what to do.
2 comments:
Artists/writers/photographers always seem to do their best work while suffering. I know that's no consolation, but the one "positive" (for lack of a better word)of this whole fucked-up situation that you're going through, may just be the re-energizing of your creative soul. Follow your recent Arbus curiosity with reckless abandon. See where else it takes you....and take whatever comfort or revelations that it offers you.
Oh, I am. It's weird. I actually found the courage to photograph strangers at a bus mall the other day. These are (apparently) the dregs of the city I work in, but I feel that I have one thing in common with them right now. So I worked up the nerve to ask to take some pictures, and it felt good. I'll do it again, and again, and the resulting pictures should prove to be something worth looking back at someday.
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