Uncovering within the Corner: Irving Penn
In the social aspect of human nature, there is the private self and the social self: the latter is at times carefully curated, at others unapologetically shown, and sometimes it’s a mix of both; the legendary photographer Irving Penn found the perfect way to capture either selves and present to us a deeper personality. Finding out that his painting abilities were futile in serving his artistic vision, he found in photography an artistic value that was to be indisputable after his involvement. Having studied at the Philadelphia Museum School of Industrial Arts, he translated to and created new visual language in photography using the concepts from the Fine Arts, for example consideration of color and its tones, composition, light, and the subject. When Penn started to work with Vogue as a photographer, he applied these notions to create compelling portraitures and magazine covers. The portraiture previously done vastly tried to imitate what was traditionally done in painting and while Penn was not the first to develop a new representation in portrait photography, he did have a clear vision of what he wanted: he wanted to capture the hidden essence of the subjects, doing so through keen observation and delicate notions of body language — and he succeeded in doing so.
Penn was aware that to capture this hidden essence he needed to control the environment in which his subjects were photographed, to strip away anything that wasn’t of interest and that might distract. Thus, he was one of the first photographers to use a simple cloth as background. Additionally, he needed to find a way to disarm them and to make them feel vulnerable. Consequently, he develops the idea of literally putting them into a corner: a place that created a sense of discomfort and, thus, presented them without inhibitions. The corner was fake, in the sense that Penn created it and it acted almost as a stage. Penn adapted the ‘corner’ to the personality of his subject, making it wider or narrower and at times adding a cube as a single prop, sitting the subject down and igniting conversation, creating an atmosphere of trust.
Working with Vogue Irving Penn photographed all kinds of celebrities, cultural icons, artists, and writers, and 1947 resulted to be an interesting year. One such subject was Salvador Dalí. In his photograph, we find Dalí inside Penn’s corner, sitting down on the cube prop. He has his legs spread open with his hands on top of his knees and his arms spread in a similar fashion. He lunges his upper body forward, face first and with Dalí’s staple pose. Salvador Dalí is a well-known eccentric and ostentatious figure, some even saying he made up extravagant stories just for the sake of it. It is not strange then to find him posing like this, with a come at me attitude when put into a corner. Yet his facial expression lacks the outrageous-cartoonish quality he usually portrays. Instead, we perceive certain fear in his eyes, his eyebrows softly frowning and lowered, and the rest of his face somewhat neutral. We perceive caution: it is clear that Dalí does not want to be figured out. We are aware that Penn knew this and wanted to make Dalí as comfortable -and thus trusting- as possible because he’s sitting down on the cube. Yet, Dalí is wary of such. Even though he liked the attention, Dalí centered it around his persona, not Salvador Dalí the human being. So, when we look once again at the rest of his body, we instead start perceiving him as uncomfortable, as actually acting out against this invasion of -one might say- privacy. Maybe Dalí is trying to portray back to us his uncomfortableness, because we can’t deny there is something unsettling about how he portrays himself.
The light comes from an almost frontal direction making it seem like Penn really wants to get whatever is in there outside and capture it. The background is lit up almost completely making it lack perceivable depth through shadows; it is only perceivable by the lines of the walls meeting the floor. This lack of perceivable depth through shadows reminds us of the infinite landscapes in his paintings. The light, with the help of a strong saturation, also creates a sharp contrast between the background and Dalí’s suit. But what’s really interesting is his face, which seems pent between his hair and his equally dark suit, making the face the center of attention, emphasizing on the uncomfortable, fear, and defensiveness of it all.
Moving on, the other photograph that captured my attention from that year is that of the painter Rufino Tamayo. Tamayo belonged to the group of Mexican painters -that included but is not limited to Diego Rivera and Jose Clemente Orozco- that helped garner international attention to Mexican art. Tamayo worked with mural painting, as did many others in the group, but also worked on canvas. The latter had a unique visual language resulting from an amalgamation of different influences -his pre-Columbian heritage, Cubism, and Surrealism- and was most recognizable for his peculiar representation of the human face. Irving Penn’s photograph of Tamayo tried to emulate this through light placement and shadows. We see Tamayo standing in Penn’s corner and the photograph is taken far enough that we are able to see the structure of the corner and a miniscule sight into Penn’s studio. The fact that he does so while hosting a painter is interpreted as no coincidence. As was said in the introductory paragraph, for a long time, portraiture photography tried to imitate the ways painting did portraiture. Even though Penn applies notions of composition, light, and color used in such medium, they are not achieved in the same manner. All of this plus space, camera, revelation process, paper, and others affect the final result. Most important of all, the photographer does not act neutrally: he is the orchestrator of all this. Penn attempts to recognize the artistry of his -yet debated at the time- medium while photographing a traditional one.
Tamayo presents himself to us in a very honest manner. He’s proud of what he does and his work. His left leg on top of the easel’s stand and his left arm resting on the painting placed on the easel, while he holds what seems to be a painting rag; his right arm hidden inside his apron. Overall, it’s a very relaxed pose that contrasts greatly with the expression made on his face -one of dread- through the lighting coming from above and the shadows it casts. Penn wants to emulate his paintings, where Tamayo paints eerie dark circles under people’s eyes: it’s not so much a way to exalt his personality but a way to identify him as an artist. The lighting coming up from above also creates shadows in the lower half of the photograph, which combined with a high contrast, makes once again the face the center of attention. We can tell -with a little difficulty- that what he has around his arm is an easel with a painting, but we cannot see the painting. That is of no importance. What Penn wants is to identify the artist through himself, not his painting. The painting would simply take attention away from him, thus disserving Penn’s desire to capture the essence of the subject.
Penn is aware of the fact that personalities come through small details and to capture them he needs to create strong contrasts, as we’ve seen in the previous photos. That doesn’t seem to be the case with this next photograph of Isamu Noguchi. Architect, artist, landscape architect, and furniture designer, this restless mind is clearly visible through Irving Penn’s portrait. First of all, Penn works the colors more softly here: there aren’t strong tones or contrasts either, so we perceive a centered person. Nonetheless, his body language -and resumé- indicate that this is no tranquil mind or hands. He sits on the cube which, by the way he is sitting, it’s not really because he may be defensive -like Dalí was- but more because he is anxious. Penn then looks for a way to make him feel comfortable, to loosen him up a little bit with conversation. It seems as if Penn took the photograph at a moment when he asked Noguchi a question, he then lounges a bit forward and turns his ear to hear what Penn just said. I think Penn noticed that when Noguchi isn’t bothering himself with troubles, we can see his true self: eyes that look curiously at what’s in front of him, relaxed shoulders that give off a humble energy, hands softly and gently holding each other in a I have to do something with them way, his legs spread apart with elbows and arms resting on his thighs. This is a man with a translucid personality, if given meticulous observation. Penn is the man to notice such things.
Equally important is how the photographer chose to portray Noguchi’s surroundings. It’s interesting really because even though it’s the same space we’ve seen in the last two photos, it doesn’t really feel like it. The blurred background and blacked out “ceiling” give the space a longer and bigger appearance than what we know it actually is -from Tamayo’s photograph-. It also gives off an architectural sensation, since space truly is what architects play around with. We also cannot dismiss the rags found on the floor. They may seem innocent, but they look like they were just ripped from the cube, giving the impression that Noguchi was working on it, implying his role as furniture designer. It truly is an art how Penn transmits subtle hints of his subject’s personality and occupation.
Irving Penn’s work is not limited to portrait photography. He also did groundbreaking work in advertising photography -like the covers he did for Vogue- and in more traditional genres like still life. He, like Isamu Noguchi, had a restless and curious mind. He created and developed new revelation processes that he applied to his commercial work, blurring the lines between pop and fine art. This portraiture series is just one of the firsts tastes we get into what would be a fruitful and successful career into achieving exactly this. So much so, that in the late years of his career, what he did, becomes a norm. This next photo is not from 1947 -like the previous- but from 1999, late into his career. He changes the background -from wall to cover- and the space -no longer inside his structure- but still uses the concept of the corner to encapsulate his subject’s personality. Penn simply updates his style to keep up with what’s in vogue. David Bowie was as prolific an artist as insatiable and tirelessly creative. A man who adopted different personas depending on his music and inspiration at the moment and all throughout his career, it’s always shocking to see him in such a neutral, natural state. The strong contrast in the photo also helps to aid in this effect. Penn’s portrait of Bowie captures the man within all of these personas and reveals to us what is already evident: a deeply interesting mind. The stare is as enigmatic and captivating as his music and style. The hair, very in style with 1999, shows a carefree Bowie, very different from his most memorable persona Iggy Stardust. His pose, reclining against the corner and with both hands in his pocket, is relaxed and confident: this is a man with no doubts or regrets in life. It truly is hard not to stare at this photo. Two tirelessly creative minds combine and create an irresistible sight.
Comparing this photograph to the previous ones, we see a clear difference: it looks fresh, modern, and very fitting for its time. What we must understand is that this was a language pioneered by Irving Penn. Thus, concluding that what he did in his early years was so impactful and significant that it eventually became a standard in photography. He truly changed the visual language of photography.
Undoubtedly, Irving Penn’s impact on portraiture photography is something that not only withstood the test of time -because even though three of these portraits shown here are from 1947, they look and feel modern-, but also reinvented the genre. With only a few examples we can see his genius and purpose. He understood the potential of the medium. Undeniably, photography gives what no other medium does: immediacy. Penn used this to catch those glimpses, the microseconds where the walls and inhibitions are down in a person; in combination with his experimentation with the revelation process, this all resulted in honest and compelling portraits. It’s a modern approach to a genre that has existed since depictions itself.
