
August Sander, architect Hans Heinz Luttgen, 1926, gelatin silver print (via iphotocentral.com). He seems confident yet uneasy before the lens. Like other upper-class subjects, he was photographed in front of a plain background, allowing the subject to speak without the aid of a cluttered context.
A passage from Susan Sontag’s groundbreaking book, On Photography
haunts me:
A photograph is both a pseudo-presence and a token of absence. Like a wood fire in a room, photographs—especially those of people, of distant landscapes and faraway cities, of the vanished past—are incitements to reverie (p. 16).
This comes close to explaining my fascination with portraits. It is not necessarily the subject’s fame that draws me to these images. In fact, the portraits selected for this essay were chosen because they did not immediately communicate the aura of fame. They weren’t distorted by fame’s messy narrative.
Portraits of contemporary architects are so self-consciously calculated. Like cover art, they are created to communicate certain attitudes, like confidence, knowledge, and power, toward an audience. Both photographer and image-savvy architect-subject are aware of how to manipulate photography to greatest effect.
Portraiture in architecture has thus become celebrity photography. Everyone knows how to behave now, have for decades. When a superficial marketing intent tries to communicate the depth of a person it becomes difficult to trust the resulting image. There is a giant yawn between this premeditated intent and the clichéd pose that obscures the person in the frame.
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