"Artists and Advertisers" (1983)

by Donna-Lee Phillips

Morrie Camhi/Kurt Fishback: Interpretive Photographs, at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, consists of quite traditional portraits of two untraditional social groups -- placers of personals ads and famous artists. The traditional portrait resists much formal innovation; its meaning lies instead in who and what the subject is, how the photographer sees him/her, and why an audience might be interested. Both "personals" advertisers and artists are of considerable interest just now, albeit for somewhat different reasons.1

Camhi's project, which involved answering the ads and photographing the subjects as they wished to be seen, brings out the voyeur in us. Camhi knows that nearly all of us read personals; most of us admit it, and many of us use them. These ads have become a kind of grass-roots matchmaking institution which fills the void left by more traditional meeting places such as churches, community organizations, and bars. Camhi also understands that the real question implicit in every ad and response is, "What does s/he look like?" Advertising and entertainment have shaped our image of "that someone special." The media promises us someone tall, tanned, fit and sexy; real life usually delivers someone short, pudgy, plain and human. Camhi's photographs, paired in the exhibit with their original classfieds texts, allow the audience to compare the written promise with the actual product, at no personal risk.

Everything we might either hope or fear about the kinds of people who place ads is realized here. Many of these are people we'd like to meet: a bearded pipe smoker From Reed College who is looking for "coffee chats and dinner"; a ruggedly handsome Marin teacher on vacation who describes himself as Handy, Able-Bodied and wants "good physical work", and a wonderfully warm Black Woman, 38 who makes the encounter utterly comfortable and relaxed. Some ads are less inviting: the Female Culture-Vulture lying abed in a frothy boudoir wants someone with "a well-feathered nest and quality plumage"; a Striving Artist desires to be "pampered, praised and encouraged" by someone successful, tall and handsome. In images like these, both photographer and subjects keep a tense, wary distance. And there are darker tastes to be indulged: a man who advertises Female Running Mate Wanted holds a ferocious ceremonial mask by one horn; the seated nude in Te Quiero, a "WJF 33 responsive and sexually adept" who seeks a "dominant Latin man," is girded by a rope which binds her crotch. Here is threat as well as promise.

Camhi's particular strength can be found in portraits of people we might ordinarily overlook, such as the shy writer of Novel Lover, Handsome Man or the woman who asks Do You Prefer Fat Women?, and Charlene Your Personal Outcall Service who offers "any activity you choose." Charlene is a seasoned, plain woman in a country-style living room. As she leans toward the photographer to speak, worn hands planted on sturdy thighs, her expression is genuinely welcoming. This image typifies the best of Camhi's work -- informative, open and unpretentious. We have at least the illusion of meeting his subjects personally.

The traditional portrait format is appropriate to Camhi's intentions. The diffidence that might be part of any first meeting of advertiser and respondent is quite naturally part of these photographic sessions. After all, photographer and subject have only just met.

In Kurt Fishback's portraits of artists, however, the formal portrait works less well. We are told that Fishback "follows his subjects as they go about their daily schedules." The photographs we see suggest no such familiarity. Most of the artists are posed rather stiffly before their works or among their tools and materials. We have little access to the person who makes the artworks; there is no indication that the artist has a private life. There are portraits here in which the personality of the artist breaks through the conventions of the genre. Ruth Bernhard perches pixie-like on a stool, surrounded by huge studio lights; a silent, withdrawn Robert Heinecken becomes almost a part of the collage of pinups and memorabilia behind him; Roy DeCarava, seen in an infinite regression of mirror images, is distant and severe. In other photographs, the artworks carry the portrait: Viola Frey is almost hidden by her gardenful of life-size ceramic replicants -- Frey as housewife, bag lady, little old lady, etc.

For the most part, these portraits do not penetrate the all-too-familiar public faade of these artists. The photographic ritual is an encounter between, but not yet a collaboration of, photographer and subject. Occasionally Fishback records a profoundly intimate moment that suggests the potential still latent in this kind of portraiture. One such image is the magnificent dark study of John Gutmann, who is pensive and remote beside his collection of ceremonial and death masks. Gutmann does not look at the photographer, but somewhere outside the frame -- and he wears no mask at all. In capturing this epiphany, Fishback has made an image both private and universal. He shows us not only how Gutmann looks, but also something about who he is.

The traditional portrait can allow us a look at the subject or, if we are very fortunate, a glimpse into the subject. This exhibit permits some of each.

Notes

1 One measure of current fascination with ad-placers and artists alike is the existence of two precisely parallel efforts: Lonnie Shavelson's just-published Personals Ads Portraits, which uses the same techniques as Camhi's and even some of the same people, and Bill Jay's Portraits of Photographers, now at another gallery in the museum. It will be reviewed in a future issue of Artweek.


This essay first appeared in Artweek, July 30, 1983. © Copyright 1983 by Donna-Lee Phillips. All rights reserved. For reprint permissions contact Donna-Lee Phillips, dlphillips@photocriticism.com.

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