One double-page spread of Mick Jagger offers an oddly humorous paraphrase of the famous sequence of shots taken by the legendary paparazzo Ron Galella years earlier outside a Los Angeles gala. At the time, as a “stolen picture” taken by the celebrity-stalking Galella, the musician’s reaction was authentic and aggressive—he gave the photographer the bird and yelled something, words we can probably guess without actually hearing them. Gorman playfully recalls the scene as stills from a music video, turning Jagger into an actor playing himself. In the later sequence, Bette Midler replaces Jerry Hall, Jagger’s girlfriend at the time.
Usually, people being photographed or interviewed reveal something of themselves. How much depends on how the photographer or journalist on the other side acts—empathetic, flattering, or driven by genuine curiosity—and the subject’s need or ability to open up and allow themselves to walk the line between seeing and being seen. Most of Gorman’s studio portraits employed a neutral background, so the person’s facial expression becomes the first thing we study as a viewer; our reaction varies wildly, just as much as the personalities we see. For other portraits, Gorman uses specific accessories or spaces to further describe the subject, as with an actor playing a specific role, occasionally supported by a dramatic contrast of light and shadow. And the photograph makes the chosen interior a stage.
Many actors and actresses, like other public figures, tend to be quite vain; they often use the camera lens as a kind of mirror. Photographers must always venture beyond the simple act of documentation and create something special to add a new, unusual, and fresh take to the familiar and generally accepted image of the star. Gorman hits this magical sweet spot again and again. He captures not just the appearance of his subjects, but also their charisma, even their aura. The wordless dialogue that occasionally yields such extraordinary portraits seems to be rooted in a recognition of kindred spirits. Gorman generally focuses on the face, particularly the eyes, which are commonly recognized as the windows
to the soul. Sometimes the subjects wear sunglasses, which gives the photographs an enigmatic, distant air.
Gorman’s images are visual commentaries, subtle interpretations of his subjects. Each portrait tells a complex story, and people are presented to us in all their emotional facets, sometimes within a single photograph. And when Liza Minnelli closes her eyes in a picture, it opens up a whole new realm of associations for us, from contemplation to daydreaming, something inherent to the medium of film. Good portraits can be eye-opening and consciousness-raising; these visual depictions offer a unique combination of self-confidence and vulnerability beyond any thespian self-representation.
As a medium, photography seemingly can conquer death. In Gorman’s pictures, many celebrities who have passed away regard us with as much joy and expression as ever, taking their places in the canon of active cultural history. In today’s ruthless world, fame fades in the blink of an eye. Only the greats of a genre or medium remain relevant to succeeding generations, and the same is true of Greg Gorman’s portraits. The variation in his work does justice to the individuality of his subjects as well as to the constant search for the authentic, stand-alone, ultimate portrait. Contemporary photography rarely endows us to a significant portrait of society with such extraordinary reach and impact.
Matthias Harder
Director/ Curator, Helmut Newton Foundation, Berlin
