Annie Leibovitz: A Photographer's Life, 1990-2005 by Stephanie Methven, 2008. © Stephanie Methven
Exhibition Review – Freya McClelland visited The National Portrait Gallery to see Annie Leibovitz: A Photographer’s Life, running until February 1 2009.
Life and Death are the themes of this wonderful and surprisingly personal exhibition of internationally acclaimed photographer Annie Leibovitz.
True, it hasn’t the high impact glitz of her 1994 exhibition also at The National Portrait Gallery (although this show does pick up where that finished, covering the period between 1990 and 2005), but this reveals a fascinating and unusual glimpse of ‘behind-the-scenes’.
While the show may have been criticised for the confusing juxtaposition of Leibovitz’s professional and private life, what results is Leibovitz as the notorious private uber-photographer, alongside Leibovitz as the human being.
Interwoven with the glossy celebrity portraits we are all so familiar with, are photos of aging parents and photos of her children – she became a mother at 52 to a daughter and then to twin girls a few years later.
Annie Leibovitz: A Photographer's Life, 1990-2005 by Stephanie Methven, 2008. © Stephanie Methven
This was also the period of time she spent with her partner, writer Susan Sontag, who died in December 2004.
The tension is deliberate. The collision of superficiality and reality is dynamic and not only records but also intensifies a full spectrum of human experience.
In her introduction to the huge book that accompanies the show, Leibovitz explains: “that the personal work on its own wasn't a true view of the last 15 years. I don't have two lives. This is one life, and the personal pictures and the assignment work are all part of it.”
In the first room, life exudes from dynamic outlines of muscle-ripped athletes in graceful strong poses, emphasised by the steely black and white. No surprises there: these powerful images are characteristic of Leibovitz. But dotted between the Olympic athletes and dancer Mikhail Baryshnikov, are the touching colour snapshots of her firstborn Sarah.
Annie Leibovitz: A Photographer's Life, 1990-2005 by Stephanie Methven, 2008. © Stephanie Methven
You see images of her newborn twins fresh out of the womb still covered in vernix, and realise that Leibovitz must have near enough given birth clutching her camera.
Taking the pictures is an act of love. Her parents appear frequently, notably her mother, stretching her legs, dancing on beaches and beside swimming pools. Her strong solid frame and lined face a stark contrast to the lithe Nicole Kidman styled in a golden hazy light swathed in yards of tulle, numb and motionless on an empty stage.
It feels slightly voyeuristic to view Kate Moss and Jonny Depp, surely the most implausibly beautiful couple to have ever existed, lying naked as if asleep on rumpled white sheets. Yet the obsession with celebrity culture we are all complicit in, including of course the celebrities themselves. The personal images seem acutely private by comparison.
Annie Leibovitz: A Photographer's Life, 1990-2005 by Stephanie Methven, 2008. © Stephanie Methven
This image is next to a photo of a bicycle flung to the floor in an arc of blood, the aftermath of a boy being shot in Sarajevo and who died on the way to hospital. It may sound contrived to prick the conscience but the effect is rather the acknowledgement that for Leibovitz, these two worlds, however different or difficult, co-exist.
While technically brilliant, the celebrity studio portraits can lack spontaneity or depth. Jamie Foxx is posed, one hand on crotch and legs akimbo in arrogant alpha male stance, exactly the way you would expect.
Jim Carey, all in black, grimaces his plastic face as in pain, yet we are aware it can spring back in the space of a mille-second.
Perhaps surprisingly, given her reputation for this kind of thing, this flatness is something Leibovitz is aware of. She once said: “I am not a great studio portraitist. At best, my studio photographs are graphic. I can always fall back on composition.”
Revealing her integrity as an artist, Leibovitz felt ill at ease with the artificial environment of the studio. She added it “felt cheap” to create an event for the camera.
What is interesting then is the recognition that we are seeing these personalities, as they want to be seen, but not how they are.
Annie Leibovitz: A Photographer's Life, 1990-2005 by Stephanie Methven, 2008. © Stephanie Methven
The photos of iconic machinery, such as R2-D2 from Stars Wars and the camera equipment, add to the sensation of fantastical creation opposed to real life that defines this exhibition,
The glimpses of real character, whether it’s her sisters with their children, her brother and father grinning with their arms crossed and tops off, or the Clintons on the night of the election on the November 7 2000, occur when her subjects are in their natural environment.
A wall of images carefully selected for the book shows the process of editing as well as further illustrating the rich amalgamation of Leibovitz’s life.
The photo of a very pregnant Demi Moore with her then partner Bruce Willis is intimate, it reveals imperfections and is a far better image than a later re-production that would appear on the cover of Vanity Fair, airbrushed to within an inch of its life.
The most personal and profound images of the show are those of Susan Sontag, Leibovitz’s partner. We see her in various intimate photographs; in the bath after her mastectomy, blissfully unaware of the camera asleep on the sofa.
Annie Leibovitz: A Photographer's Life, 1990-2005 by Stephanie Methven, 2008. © Stephanie Methven
We see a youthful Sontag enjoying croissants in her silk dressing gown at the Hotel Gritti Palace in Venice; she is photographed a few years later romantically poised on the banks of the Seine or standing at Petra dwarfed in front of a huge carved cliff.
It is a relationship, a real life, mapped in images. And painfully these include those of Sontag’s battle with an invasive cancer, her chemotherapy treatment and eventual, inevitable death.
That Leibovitz felt compelled to record this on camera, caused huge ethical controversy and infuriated Sontag’s family, but reveals the sheer importance she placed on the relationship, demonstrated the way she knows how: through the lens of her camera.
Admission is £11, concessions £10/£9 and is free for gallery supporters.
