Garry Winogrand
New York City
gelatin silver print on paper
9 1/16 in x 13 7/16 in (23.02 cm x 34.13 cm)
Gift of Stanley T. Lesser, A.B. 1951, J.D. 1953

This photograph by Garry Winogrand (born January 14, 1928) inspired my interest in the connection (or lack thereof) made between viewer and image when the subject’s face (particularly their eyes) are obscured. The woman in this image is engaged in a private phone conversation within the small physical confines of the metal and glass phone booth. As she leans back in the booth and places her left foot on a slightly elevated surface, the hem of her dress is lifted to allow an almost voyeuristic view from the camera. This image from Winogrand’s controversial book, “Women Are Beautiful,” highlights the complicated relationship that he had with the women in his life. Winogrand was an incredibly prolific artist and took photographs almost obsessively, which may explain the relationship conflicts that led him to be married three times. What I find most interesting about this photograph is how the metal plate, which blocks the view of the woman’s face, alters the relationship that the viewer has with the subject. Because we cannot see her eyes, she is faceless, nameless, without identity. She has not only become the subject of this image but also the object of Winogrand’s interest and the viewer’s fascination.

-Sean Gillikin, W20 HISTORY 379

Danny Lyon
Cell Block (face behind bars, other prisoners behind him), from "Conversations with the Dead"
gelatin silver print on paper
11 x 14 in. ( 27.94 x 35.56 cm )
Gift of Thomas Wilson '79 and Jill Garling '80

Danny Lyon’s book, “Conversations with the Dead” has been hailed as his ‘masterpiece.’ It contains photographs from his fourteen months’ time spent immersed in the Texas penal system in 1967 and ‘68. During this project, not only did he take various different intimate, powerful, and peculiar images, but he also spent a great deal of time with the inmates themselves, listening to their stories, getting to know them, and even befriending them. This image depicts an inmate trying to connect with the viewer from behind bars. The shadows and physical cell bars themselves obstruct much of the man’s face and eyes, creating a metaphorical barrier that prevents the viewer from truly connecting with him and his humanity.

-Sean Gillikin, W20 HIST 379

Weegee
Lovers, Palace Theater, New York City
gelatin silver print on paper
8 in x 10 in (20.32 cm x 25.4 cm)
Gift from the Collection of David S. Rosen MD, MPH

This photograph by Weegee (born June 12, 1899) was taken in a dark movie theatre using infrared film, meaning the camera didn’t flash and these two were none the wiser. The irony in this image is that the viewer feels invasive gazing upon these two young lovers as they embrace each other, but their glasses make it less uncomfortable to engage with this image. Weegee, of course, had no qualms invading the lives of other New Yorkers; he did so on a nightly basis. He was famous for roaming the city and photographing the scenes of murders, fires, and other emergencies, but he also didn’t shy away from sleeping subjects or other intimate events. The glasses that the theater goers are wearing hide the identities of these two lovebirds, while also isolating the viewer from the most intense emotions of this scene. The two main subjects are obviously engaged in something together, but there is no passion in it when one cannot see their eyes. The hiding of the eyes in this photograph allows the viewer to get intimate with the subjects despite the fact that the action of this image is usually done in private.

-Sean Gillikin, W20 HIST 379

Elliott Erwitt
Cracked Glass with Boy - Colorado, from "Portfolio of 15 Photographs"
gelatin silver print on paper
16 in. x 19 15/16 in. ( 40.7 cm x 50.7 cm )
Gift of Gerald Lotenberg

Elliott Erwitt was born in Paris (July 26, 1928) to Russian Jewish parents and moved to Los Angeles with his family when he was eleven years old. At the age of twenty, he moved to New York and began doing janitorial work in exchange for film classes. Erwitt had a knack for capturing ironic and humorous moments, but he was also more than capable of taking more solemn photos such as this one. In classic photography, one common theme that pops up almost everywhere you look is that of blind people as subjects. Paul Strand’s photograph, “Blind,” is one of the most influential images of all time, and it helped spawn this theme within the medium of photography. Erwitt turns this convention on its head by using his camera to “blind” the boy in this image. The cracked glass obscures much of the boy’s face from the viewer, essentially cutting off part of the connection that one would make with him.

-Sean Gillikin, W20 HIST 379

Elliott Erwitt
New York, from "Master Prints Volume I"
gelatin silver print on paper
20 1/16 in. x 23 15/16 in. ( 51 cm x 60.8 cm )
Gift of Mr. and Mrs. Sheldon Sobel

This image by Erwitt depicts a very intimate yet somehow still distant moment between the three members of this family. The mother, exhausted after just having finished breastfeeding her child, rolls over, stretches, and holds her face with her left hand as if she were half-playing peek-a-boo. Erwitt, the father and photographer, is as much a part of this familial scene as the woman and baby. His presence, and his camera’s presence, are what allow us to invade this private scene, but there is still a lingering sense of distance and isolation. The woman’s closed eyes and covered face make us as the viewer feel unwelcome. It’s as if she didn’t want Erwitt to take her photograph in this moment, and that sentiment underlies the whole image. Because part of her face is covered, our connection with her is severed.

-Sean Gillikin, W20 HIST 379

Diane Arbus
Untitled (4)
gelatin silver print on paper
12 ½ in x 12 ⅜ in (31.75 cm x 31.43 cm);28 3/16 in x 22 3/16 in (71.6 cm x 56.36 cm);20 in x 16 ⅛ in (50.8 cm x 40.96 cm);28 3/16 in x 22 3/16 in (71.6 cm x 56.36 cm);28 3/16 in x 22 3/16 in (71.6 cm x 56.36 cm);20 in x 16 ⅛ in (50.8 cm x 40.96 cm)
Museum Purchase

This image by Diane Arbus (born March 14, 1923) is part of a series of photographs she took of people with developmental disabilities. Arbus was raised in a wealthy Jewish family and became famous for her work photographing individuals who lived on the fringes of society. Her last body of work, “Untitled” is an enigmatic look at people who were misunderstood, even by the photographer herself. The way that mental health and developmental disabilities were viewed in the 1960’s when these images were taken differs tremendously from today. This image was taken of four such people on Halloween; they are dressed in costumes and masks that obscure almost their entire faces, save the nose and eyes. Arbus also photographed on a neutral eye-level and from a small distance. The subjects are intensely alienated from the viewer by both their masks and their isolation within the frame. Arbus is famous and infamous for her indifferent and unflinching gaze, but in this image she is not only indifferent but also contributing to the alienation experienced by these developmentally disabled individuals.

-Sean Gillikin, W20 HIST 379