Diane Arbus retrospective - Jeu de Paume, Paris. 18/10/2011 - 05/02/2012

Diane Arbus 1923-1971

I don't believe i've ever been so wholly engaged and inspired by a photographic exhibition than when I visited the Diane Arbus retrospective at the Jeu de Paume last week.

It certainly speaks volumes, the fact that 3 days later this show still demands precedence over everything else I visited in Paris, from the works of Monet, Renoit and Cézanne to the stacked up thousands of skeletons in the catacombes beneath the city. It was also pleasing to find that Chris, who came along for the jokes, the wine, and with no prior knowledge of photography, also found this the most engaging aspect of the visit (excluding the Swedish girl we met in some Parisian hovel of a pub who liked to talk post-modernism with him).

Identical Twins, Roselle, New Jersey, 1967

Laid out in a loosely chronological fashion across 2 floors, the exhibition guided us through 200 of the late artists photographs, the majority of which were hand-printed originals made by Arbus herself in her darkroom. This detail, though perhaps quite minor, seemed to add a curious tangibility to the whole ordeal; making the photographs- which were laid out in modest rows spanning each wall- a direct, and almost physical connection between Arbus and viewer.

Aside from this tangible connection with the late artist, the most striking aspect of the retrospective was the sheer scope of the work on display. Everything from her famous Identical Twins, Roselle, New Jersey, 1967 (pictured, above right) to previously unpublished photographs from her beginnings as a photographer (shot very unbecomingly in grainy 35mm) lined every wall. The 35mm work in particular is extremely interesting to behold for anyone familiar with Arbus. It showcases her hitherto unseen roots as an artist, where the viewer can quite literally witness- from wall to wall- her development as a practitioner, and gradual transcendence into the subject matter and photographic format for which she would later become known.

As we moved through her self-portraits and photographs of empty cinemas from the mid-1940s, and into her more famous collection of work, the portraits of 'freaks' and outsiders, every image arrested us, and stared back without sympathy, look after haunted look. I feel that Chris said it best when we were about halfway through. About that creeping consistency within each strange image he remarked, something along the lines of, 'what the fuck?!' (very articulate from a guy who's written two novels). But indeed, 'what the fuck'. Arbus presents us with outlandish subject matter, aesthetic beauty, and technical perfection in every harrowing frame. Hers is a raw and objective glimpse into the freakish unknown that, quite understandably, inspired a new breed of photographic practitioners throughout the latter half of the twentieth century.

Untitled, 1971

The exhibition worked its way upwards and finished the journey with her highly disturbing series of photographs, taken of mentally handicapped individuals in fancy dress, out on a day-trip with their carers. The photographs remain untitled, uncaptioned and unflinching. When viewing them it is easy to see why Arbus attracted such controversy as a documentary practitioner. It is also easy to acknowledge, in the presence of such photographs, the fate of the late artist who made them. - And interestingly, the fate of the late artist is the one thing, in the final two rooms dedicated to Arbus's life, that the Jeu de Paume saw fit to overlook.

In these finals rooms, those such as Chris (who walked in with little knowledge of Arbus, or indeed photography in general) were educated with massive quotes and images hung up on the walls- a biographical timeline documenting significant moments in Arbus's life- and an entire backlog of publications spread out on tables to go through.
For those more familiar with Arbus- well, for me at any rate- the real treat was finding Arbus's technical and conceptual diaries preserved in glass cases, spread intermittently throughout the room. Alongside these were letters to friends and her Nikon F and twin-lens Rolleiflex cameras. These artifacts from such an innovative artists life were fascinating to be granted access to and really brought the exhibition to a satisfying and inspiring conclusion.

As I rejoined Chris, who's first question since looking up at the July 26th 1971 - Diane Arbus Takes Her Own Life was 'how'd she kill herself?', I was truly confronted with the closing door of Arbus's, and many other 20th Century photographers', way of image making, that shall never again be opened. The contact sheets and negatives that plastered the walls beside her notes and letters to friends about film types and camera formats makes a lasting impression about the inevitable progression of the medium into a digital future. And so too, into a far more maleable and potentially inauthentic artform.

In the end. I was left in awe by the presence of Arbus's greatness, inspired by the traditional medium that I love so well, and disturbed that this means of image making will likely be gone within the next 10 years... except to those who can afford it.


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