Billy

Sydney and I recently visited the Los Angeles County Museum of Art primarily to see the current exhibition of William Eggleston. I have been an admirer of Eggleston’s work since I was introduced to it about ten years ago. Like many other of my contemporaries his pictures have and will continue to influence my own. But this evening rather than just appreciate Eggleston’s work, (Actually, I can never just appreciate photography, when I look at the work of others I have a terrible habit of torturing myself about my work. If I wish to merely enjoy art I’ll view sculpture and paintings, two mediums I have no intention of dithering in) I wanted to understand why his work is so revered.

I acutely studied Eggleston’s Color Dye Transfer Prints. The simple answer to my inquiry is he is a genius. He was/is able to do with a camera and color film what Miles Davis could do with a trumpet, Brando a script, Picasso a brush, and Updike a typewriter. They could take the same instrument their contemporaries used but do something their contemporaries couldn’t: take something simple and make it brilliant. William Eggleston was born with the innate talent to see an angle that composed a normally mundane chromatic scene into a two dimensional masterpiece.

In the forward of William Eggleston’s Guide, the book originally published in conjunction with Eggleson’s exhibit at The Museum of Modern Art in 1976, John Szarkowski explains that before Eggleston photographers were struggling with color film in their camera. Color photographs were either taken without consideration of the hues and form was ignored, or with pretty colors being the focus resulting in an image that, “comprises of beautiful colors in pleasing relationships” (Szarkowski 9), yet substantially meaningless. Eggleston was the first to be able to organize colors the way the greats of black and white photography mastered the composition of shadow and highlight.

Within his images I feel the touch of a jazz musician, an improviser of scenery who can twist a note or extend a beat that tickles the ear, or in Eggleston’s case the eye. In some of his images the scene is classically composed in perfect thirds as if to demonstrate to the viewer that he knows the rules. Then the next image, a famous photograph, of a white man in a suit in front of a black man wearing a white jacket both to right of a white car. At first glance this photograph is unsettling because it appears unbalanced. Yet, like an unmelodic Stravinsky opus it grows on me and I begin to admire its offbeat ness. The open car door, the pairs of trees that fall off into the background, the similarity of the two men’s posture and melancholic expressions, all sustain, within a monochromatic brownness, a 3-4 tempo that swirls around and around the white man’s red tie.

Many before me have tried to dissect Eggleston and his photographs, and from what I have read and seen the artist gives very little insight as to what motivates his imagery. Alfred H. Barr, Jr., a director at MOMA suspected that the inspiration for most of Eggleston’s work radiated “from a central circular core.” Eggleston’s response, perhaps a bit flippant, was that the composition of his work was based on the Confederate flag (11). This description is appropriately implied, not in composition, but in the theme of the photograph in the preceding paragraph. The references to the old south are obvious. Even though the two men stand in a similar pose there is a droop to the black man’s shoulders. Standing behind the white man, his white jacket without a tie, suggest the black man is subservient. The reference to the days of the confederate flag could not be clearer and more painful.

Eggleston once noted that he was at war with the obvious, and from my point of view there isn’t an obvious credo to his work. It’s feel and nonintellectual. Eggleson’s famous exhibit at MOMA in 1976 was initially harshly criticized. Hilton Kramer reviewing for the New York Times wrote, “the truth is, these pictures belong to the world of snapshot chic” (Weski). Perhaps there-in lies the answer to my original question: Eggleston was apt at conveying so much with an irreverent click of the shutter, and southern life of the 1960’s and 70’s is explicitly there.

Szarkowski, John William Eggleston’s Guide. New York, NY: The Museum of Modern Art, 2002.

Weski Thomas “William Eggleston: “The Tender-Cruel Camera.” American Suburb X February 2009