Contemplating My Themes
Today (most days) I’m contemplating my themes: art, memento mori, still life, self-portraiture. It’s like they’re all new and hold different layers and dimensions of sadness and beauty and despair and hope and weirdness.
This weekend we watched Portrait of a Lady on Fire, and it got me thinking again, more, ongoing-ly about self-portraiture. Thinking about how participating in one’s portrait, changes everything. I posted a photo in early March, before the shut-downs, of myself in front of the Princess Theatre, with this movie on the marquee. There’s a very good article in The New Yorker by Rachel Symes about the movie here. So, I’m late to the party, but aren’t we all late to the parties now? Because there are no parties? And so it should be. But art will always wait, it will be there when we’re ready for it. And this movie was exactly what I needed to watch.
The artist who did the paintings in the movie is Hélène Delmaire. She did a really splendid job of the paintings, imho.
Are we tired of thinking about the female gaze? It seems overdone, but is it? In an article in The Atlantic, Hanna Giorgis says:
“When Marianne tells Héloïse mid-pose that she would “hate to be in her place,” for example, Héloïse is quick to correct her: “We’re in the same place.” In a sentence, Héloïse rejects passivity and puts them on equal footing. Thus begins one of Portrait’s most affecting sequences, in which Héloïse echoes Marianne’s small observations. Perched on her chair, the subject maintains her gaze on the painter and rattles off a list of idiosyncrasies she’s noticed about Marianne: how her face changes when she’s upset, the little movements the artist isn’t aware of. “If you look at me, who do I look at?” Héloïse asks knowingly. Marianne, once comfortable in her position as the spectator, is shaken by the realization that she is capturing a subject who sees her, too. The painting isn’t just a work of Marianne’s; it’s every bit Héloïse’s as well.”
So I’m contemplating memento mori with all my soul of late. Maybe if we all contemplated the theme memento mori we’d be a little kinder, a little more mindful. We’re here so briefly, so beautifully. And self-portraiture, I know it might get confused with the influencer culture when posted on Instagram, but they are two different things. Though interestingly, and I adore this, when I posted a picture there, I had a lot of comments on my sunglasses. (Which are from Simon’s btw — not a paid product placement, but interesting that that’s where we go in our minds, and I’m no different).
The thing about posting photos of yourself through time, is that you really begin seeing yourself, and seeing yourself differently. You see angles, you get to know your best side, your wrinkly neck, your flaws and your beauty, and your ridiculousness. One does begin to accept certain aspects of oneself. And also, because it’s not just one session per year or every second year for an author photo or work photo, it’s less important. There will be another moment.
The best thing though, is that you don’t seem to change as much, it’s much more about the slow process of living, aging, being. It’s all okay. Yes, I’m still picky and I’m choosing how I’m presented, portrayed, touched up in Lightroom, but that’s part of the art of it. I’m sure these photos say things about me that I’m completely unaware of.
Part of this whole new world is going to require us to look deeply at who we are in relation to others and to figure out how we can help rather than harm each other. Who is looking at us, and how can we look back at them, with love, with good intentions, with hope and with the knowledge that we are all wonderful, fragile, living beings? What are the questions we now need to be asking ourselves about how people are portrayed, how they might be empowered in images, through images, and how might we see better? Who even gets to hold the camera? Meanwhile. What are the intersections between artist and influencer? Dabbler and serious practitioner? Hobbyist and pro? Am I making art or making things to write about? (which may be art?) Am I to be taken seriously or am I merely documenting an ordinary life? Both? Can one document a life, merely?
