Richard Avedon at the Jeu de Paume

Patti Maciesz writing for I V Y paris

Richard Avedon’s first retrospective since his death in 2004 at the Jeu De Paume, is open for one final week.

If you take this chance to see the last sixty years in black and white, you will find yourself in the company of such greats as Miles Davis, Andy Warhol and of course, Avedon himself.

The show spans two floors, the majority of which are made up of Avedon’s classic bust portraits, shot in front of a his staple white background. They move chronologically from fashion advertisements to portraits of artists, writers, politicians and performers, culminating with his In the American West series of the 1980’s.

Beginning with the elegantly composed fashion photographs of the 1940’s and 50’s in Paris, the silky blacks and pearly whites of Avedon’s early professional work are wonderful compositions of perfectly balanced lights and shadows. They present an idyllic view of the past, of the female figure; the power of the perfect wool coat.

As the show continues the beautiful people from Harpers Bazaar become more complicated and real. The admiration and whimsy gives way to empathy, and if for only a moment, an entry point into the creative minds of the time.

The portraits of Marilyn Monroe, Maran Anderson and Charlie Chaplin are performances in action, not poses. The haunting triptych of Igor Stravinsky, and the portrait of Dorothy Parker (who appears in desperate need of a hug) demand attention.

Artists and writers look at us from puffy eyelids and haggard cheeks. The composition of the photographs becomes increasingly more centralized- a key element in Avedon’s work throughout his career.

The accompanying wall labels share quotes from Avedon who purposes his erasure as the artist. He insists that does not photograph any objective truth or go ‘below the surface of anything’, but rather that it is precisely that ‘surface’ that he photographs. These quotes leave the viewer with a struggle- didn’t I just catch a glimpse of something deeply personal and magical in that portrait? Avedon would perhaps argue that it was just there, and he photographed it, not that he ‘uncovered’ it, nor that it carries any inherent truth.

At certain points the range of photographs is perhaps too grand. On one end, a huge wall sized print of Andy Warhol’s Factory faces opposite a somewhat discombobulated, yet beautiful set of portraits of a former slave, a president, an activist and a composer. Behind Ginsberg and Warhol, wedged in the corner is a series of Avedon’s aging father. Although a bit overwhelming, this room also illustrates the variety of people that passed before Avedon’s lens.

The Factory portrait with its naked men and large expanses of empty white spaces is the only piece like it in the show, both in scale and style. Andy loosely holds a microphone but seems to have nothing to say. He is looking off into the distance. In the center is a striking Viva, looking down at the viewer. There is a nice juxtaposition here between that lingering stare and the adjacent chilling photograph of Andy Warhol’s stomach, after being shot. One of his hands is showing while the other seems to be trying to hide the scars, stretched out in pain.

The second floor seems personal, as if we’re entering a dinner party. The first person we meet is Avedon’s wife. An entire wall full of 8 x 10 portraits of politicians known as the The Party hangs opposite a series of large format portraits of artists. The subjects of these photographs are less captivating because the size of the prints varies too much, and the set up and lighting is awkward.

In the American West on the other hand, shows that Avedon can hold his own when the name behind the face doesn’t say anything to the viewer. This series shines as the strongest presentation in the show, and leaves the most lasting impression. It is the most unglamorous contrast one could imagine. The big names of Hollywood, Washington and the international intelligentsia are replaced with the haunting regular faces of an impoverished America.

The framing here is also much better than the rest of the show. Unlike the other rooms, the prints are adhered to metal rather than behind glass. The distribution of space and strong presentation pushes this room forward as the thematic highlight to a show that was otherwise lacking curatorial focus. This strength continues on to a dark hallway that contains spot lit coal miner portraits. They peer out from weary dirty faces and wrinkled eyes; the stark white backgrounds against the thick black of the wall of the room give this narrow space an appropriate uneasiness.

The show concludes with the photographs Avedon took through the 1990’s until his death. For the most part, these images aren’t terribly interesting, with the exception of a self-portrait triptych depicting an aged Avedon taken a few years before his death in 2004. In the first frame he is looking down at his feet. In the second he is covering his mouth, about to say something. In the third he is looking straight into the camera wearing a wise, maybe mischievous, smile. It is a poignant endnote to a sprawling but strong show, and it would have been even stronger to have just ended here rather than mixed in with the rest of the later works.

This retrospective isn’t about Richard Avedon making famous people seem real, or about normal people appearing amazing. The basis of Avedon’s work is simply portraits that capture people in their moment. It is worth waiting in the line spilling out onto the Place de Concorde from the Jeu de Paume to see for your self the hundreds of people that passed before those very capable eyes of his. To walk through the sixty years of history that he captured with his camera, one beautiful black and white portrait at a time.

Richard Avedon

Photographies 1946 - 2004

July 1st until September 28th 2008

Jeu de Paume
1, place de la Concorde
75008 Paris
Métro : Concorde (lignes 1, 8, 12)

Tuesday 12 pm until 9 pm
Wednesday to Friday 12 pm until 7 pm
Saturday and Sunday 10 am to 7 pm
Tél. 01 47 03 12 50