Showing posts with label Richard Avedon. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Richard Avedon. Show all posts

Monday, July 8, 2013

Arthur Miller On Marilyn Monroe's Sense Of Humor, Etc.

by Stephen J. Gertz

By Richard Avedon, 1958.
 "I am quite conceivably prejudiced, but I think this collection is a wonder of Marilyn’s wittiness. As Lillian Russell, Marilyn sits [on] the solid gold bicycle just inexpertly enough to indicate that she is, after all, a lady… Her hands lace around the bike handles so much more femininely than they grasp the fan as Clara Bow. And here again is the difference between imitation and interpretation, between making an affect and rendering a spirit."
The above quotation was partially cut from Arthur Miller's feature article, My Wife Marilyn, which appeared in Life magazine, December 22, 1958, in its Christmas issue to accompany photographer Richard Avedon's spread, Marilyn Monroe: Fabled Enchantresses. Within, Avedon shot Monroe  as Lillian Russell, Theda Bara, Clara Bow, Marlene Dietrich, and Jean Harlow. Miller’s essay describes Monroe’s “miraculous sense of sheer play” in channeling these celebrated sex symbols of the stage and screen and her role as their successor.

Miller's signed typescript draft of the article's final published version, with holograph corrections, revisions, and indicated cuts (almost a third of its final length), has come to market along with a signed typed letter by Miller to Life editor, Ralph Graves, dated October 31, 1958, that the playwright sent along with this final draft. They are being offered for $28,500.

 "Here is the article. The only stuff I have added is at the end, with the exception of one or two words in the body of the text. It reads like a precis of the original, I’m afraid, much of the feeling having been removed. But it will do, I guess. If you’ve got something better to use please do so. I’m sorry, again, that the wires got crossed and I conceived it for a much greater length. In any case, the photos are still miraculous."

The "feeling" remains within pages six through eleven of the eleven recto-only leaves of graph paper, which have been almost entirely struck through by Miller, who, once again, writes about Marilyn's sense of humor as evidenced in the photos. She possessed a keen sense of herself, completely self-aware and not only in on the joke but a collaborator in its creation. Though unschooled, this was a very smart woman; only the highly intelligent can play "dumb" with aplomb.

"As in life so in these pictures --- she salutes fantasy from the shore of the real until there comes a moment when she carries us, reality and all, into the dream with her, and we are grateful. Her wit here consists of her absolute commitment to two ordinarily irreconcilable opposites --- the real feminine and the man's fantasy of femininity. We know she knows the difference in these pictures, but is refusing to concede that there is any contradiction, and it is serious and funny at the same time."
The typescript, with its mounting revisions, examines in detail the nuances behind each pose and each portrait, exploring at length Monroe’s approach to portraying these prior stars and the cultural milieu from which they emerged.


Though a few lines and one longer passage from the original manuscript were salvaged for the published version, most were cut. These excisions, found here, include a comparison of Monroe’s face to “a lake under a changing sky” and Miller’s conviction that she is “the living proof that Boticelli was only painting the literal truth.” Where the published essay is a polished description of the electricity of Avedon’s set and Monroe’s ability to capture the “spirit of an age” and document “a kind of history of our mass fantasy, as far as seductresses are concerned,” this typescript reveals an unedited account of not only an inspired collaboration, but Miller’s beguilement over his wife’s many talents.


In Monroe's last interview before her death, appearing in Life on August 3, 1962, she discussed fame in general and hers in particular and pleaded to writer Richard Meryman, "Please don't make me a joke."

"The often bizarrely explained circumstances of her death and her image as a sex goddess/dumb blonde have at times prevented Monroe from being perceived as more than a caricature. She was, however, much more, and even in those 'dumb' roles she displayed an elegance worthy of respect. Her director in The Seven Year Itch and Some Like It Hot, Billy Wilder, recognized this quality and called her 'an absolute genius as a comic actress.' Monroe never lost her desire for life or her sense of humor despite her tribulations, and she treated with humor and insight the depersonalization that came with her status and that often tormented her life and career" (American National Biography).

Once, in a throwaway quip employing a homonym to lampoon that dumb blonde sex-goddess image she, perhaps unconsciously, suggested a subtext that seriously addressed the inner conflict between what she represented to others and her true self:

"I thought symbols were something you clash."
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Typescript and letter images courtesy of Royal Books, currently offering these items, with our thanks.

Marilyn Monroe photographs from Avedon's Fabled Enchantresses series can be viewed here.
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Of Related Interest:

Marilyn Monroe: Avid Reader, Writer & Book Collector.

Heartbreaking Marilyn Monroe Letter Estimated at $30,000 - $50,000. 

The Most Significant Marilyn Monroe Autograph Document Comes To Auction.
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Tuesday, November 9, 2010

James Baldwin, Teen Writer

by Stephen J. Gertz

A national treasure.

In the Spring of 1941, sixteen year-old James Baldwin made his debut as a published writer.

Raised in Harlem, his mother was married to a man with whom Baldwin had a tumultuous relationship; his home life was difficult. He was inculcated with a strong sense of religion; from age fourteen through sixteen he was a preacher in a small revivalist church. He attended New York’s prestigious DeWitt Clinton High School in the Bronx and contributed to Magpie, the school’s student-published literary magazine. Magpie’s editor-in-chief was a kid who would become one of Baldwin’s life-long friends, Richard Avedon, pre-camera, and with literary ambitions of his own.

In these stories and poems we hear Baldwin celebrating Blackness yet struggling with his own, and religion, racism, his conscience, and his desperate desire to give voice to the emotions roiling within himself. It's a voice that already is clear and knows what it wants to say and how to say it.

Winter 1941, Vol XXV, No. 1

To the Winter 1941 issue of Magpie Baldwin contributed two poems, and a six-scene play illustrated by Harold Altman, who would go on to a distinguished career as an illustrator and graphic artist.

Winter 1941, Vol XXV, No. 1, p. 28.

These Two
By James Baldwin
Winter 1941, Vol. XXV, No. 1, p. 19.

A Play in Six Scenes

Etching by Harold Altman.

Scene 1.—A cold wet alley about serve A.M. Day is just breaking. We hear the swish and patter of heavy rain. Drunkard stumbles into alley. He is completely intoxicated.

DRUNKARD—Gosh . . . shure ish dark . . . (He stumbles over something and mutters inaudible curses.) Wha'sh devil . . . deshent man can't even git home peashful. (He stumbles again and falls.) Well I'll be . . . ish two men . . . heyT wake up. Hey! wake up . . . ish rainin' . . . (He attempts to lift one body which is lying atop the other. Suddenly he lets it drop, recoils yells.) Hey! They're dead—dead. (He stumbles to the mouth of the alley). Moider! Moider! Help, police! (We hear windows slammed up.) Moider! Moider!

(Now we hear voices from the windows.) "Hey! What's all the racket down there? . . . What's wrong? . . . Shut up down there!"

DRUNKARD—Ish two dead men down here! Moider! (And he is off again)...

In the same issue Avedon contributed two poems and three humor pieces.

From Not England by Richard Avedon, p. 34.

...These are the words I write. 

This is the twisted song I sing 

Till I am hoarse with it. 

These are the words that wring 

My every dream into a nightmare...

"There was a boy."

A friend of mine. 

There was a boy." 

Beaten on my brain, 

"There was a boy."

No, no, I can not mourn that England's churches 

Have been burnt away, 
Or England's charm, or England's years of grace.

I can not turn but what I see the face, 

With clear eyes and a blond head, 

Of an English boy I knew. 

The boy is dead.

Spring 1941, Vol XXV,  No. 2

In the Spring 1941 issue of Magpie Baldwin contributed two poems and three stories, “A Woman at the Well,” “Incident in London,” and “Mississippi Legend.”

Judgment Day
By James Baldwin
The Magpie, Spring 1941, Vol. XXV, No. 2, p. 6.

Dey tells me dat on Judgment Day
In some udder clime,
I'se "wine hate to gib account

Ob mah earthly time.

Dey tells me dat, if I drink gin,
Lie, o' steal, o' fight,
I ain't gwine neber be allowed

To walk in Jesus' light.

Dem as tells me all dese things
Goes to church on Sunday,

From dey shoulders sproutin' wings,

Shootin' crap on Monday.

No, I neber managed yet

To git real good religion;

Don't know why I didn't—
'Twarn't fer lack o' teachin'.

Guess I'se jes' a sinner,

Bound to go to Hell—
Jes' de same I'se kinder glad—
Shootin' crap is swell!


From The Woman at the Well
By James Baldwin
The Magpie, Spring 1941, Vol. XXV, No. 2, p. 26.

Illustration by Bernard Bier

"Oh Lawd I want..."

Jeems walked along the hot, dusty road, heart alive with song. His faded blue dungarees flapped in the still, oppressive air. Rivulets of water ran down the dusky cheeks gathering under his chin to form large, hesitant beads. The rough, wooly hair glistened in the sunlight; the eyes, large and eager, surveyed the world peacefully from beneath the shining, heavy brows. Under one forearm he carried a Bible.

"Two wings . . ."

Dog, but he was tired! It was a long journey, the way he was going. He had been travelling all day, and though he had often made the journey before, this time it seemed slower than usual.

"Dis rate I'll jes' git to de church Sunday mo'nin' in time to walk right in an' preach," he grumbled. 

"Won't hate time to wash or nothin'." This was immediately followed by the consoling thought: "It doan matter so long's dey git de Word; Eben Jesus was ragged sometime." Heaven and earth contained no greater honor than to do as Jesus might have done...

From Mississippi Legend
By James Baldwin
The Magpie, Spring 1941, Vol. XXV, No. 2, p. 42.

It was Annie Simpson as tol' me this here story, an' I ain't a-sayin' as it's the truth or a lie. Annie Simpson's a real respectable woman, an' she ain't got no cause to lie to me. I been knowin' her all my life an' she's one o' the sweetest chillun I know.

Annie used to live down on a farm in Mississippi. 'Twant her farm, but she used to work it on a sharecroppin' basis—you know, that means she was workin' for somebody else an' givin' them half o' the crops at the end o' the year.

Annie says that everybody down there was real religious, but she says she never seen a woman as religious as Mattie Jones before. She says Mattie was so blame holy that she wouldn't even straighten her hair, or light her stove on Sunday. Said Sunday was a day of rest an' that folks oughtn't to do no work atall on that day. On Sundays Mattie went to church real early in the mornin' an' stayed there all day, singin' an' shoutin' an' praisin' God. Sometimes she stayed there till way early Monday mornin'. Annie says she was as pious as anybody, but she couldn't never stay there that long. She says she had to get some sleep some time. Anyway, Mattie was always the leader in somethin' like that...

Winter 1942, Vol XXVI, No. 1

And from Magpie winter 1942, a powerful poem of a lynching and lost love by the magazine's new editor, a seventeen year-old with a deep, old soul:

Black Girl Shouting
By James Baldwin
The Magpie, Winter 1942, Vol. XXVI, No. 1, p. 32.

Stomp my feet 

An' clap my han's 

Angels comin' 
To dese fair lan's.

Cut my lover
Off dat tree! 

Angels comin' 

To set me free.

Glory, glory,
To de Lamb 

Blessed Jesus 

Where's my man?

Black girl, whirl
Your torn, red dress 

Black girl, hide 
Your bitterness.

Black girl, stretch
Your mouth so wide. 

None will guess 
The way he died

Turned your heart
To quivering mud 

While your lover's 

Soft, red blood

Stained the scowling
Outraged tree. 

Angels come 

To cut him free!

Baldwin was a haunted artist, struggling inside, desperate to break the fetters of his background, shed the negro skin he was born into and fashion a new black one, and burst the barricades of his conscience.

Sonnet
By James Baldwin
The Magpie, Winter 1942, Vol.. XXVI, No. 1, p. 32.

Go away and let me rest in peace 

Thou restless, ruthless, ever-searching Mind. 

Why is it that you come, and never cease 

To tear apart each refuge that I find? 
I had thought that I could come and hide 

Far from the bitter battle fray 

But you have come and waked the country-side 

And put an end to my complacent day.

Tell me, may I never hope to see 

Some blessed refuge from the bruising rain? 

I thought that this was it, and I would be 

Forever sheltered from this roving Brain. 

But now I must depart—my peace is o'er 
For you have forced my barricaded door.

In the following, Baldwin has heard the calling, has seen his future, knows his path, and what he must do.

Loose Stone Rolling
By James Baldwin
The Magpie, Winter 1942, Vol. XXVI, No. 1, p. 47.

I am called and I must go 

Through this wild and blinding snow 

Ease this pain within my breast 
Plunging through the wilderness.

Not for me the sheltered cave 

Or the drab and solid rock 
I must up and be away
Far beyond the ordered flock.

Upon high school graduation, James Baldwin moved far beyond his ordered flock to Greenwich Village and began his career as a writer  in earnest. The fire next time was now, he told it on the mountain, and he burned oh so brightly.
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Cover images of Magpie, and of the poem Paradise courtesy of Between the Covers, which is currently offering these three scarce issues of Magpie for $2,250.

Accompanying illustrations by Altman and Bier courtesy of The Magpie Sings the Great Depression, which has a complete list of Magpie writers and illustrators, 1929-1942, and selections from Magpie's content here.
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Wednesday, June 9, 2010

Thirty-Five Unpublished Avedon Photographs In Private Album Surface


A collection of thirty-five unpublished photographs by the legendary Richard Avedon (1923-2004) of noted poet and playwright Aram Saroyan and family has made its debut into the marketplace. It has never publicly been seen before. It is one of only three that Avedon personally produced, and he destroyed the negatives to prevent any sort of reproduction.

The photographs, created and given away by Avedon in May 1977, were taken by the great photographer as an intmate memento of three days that Avedon spent with the Saroyans in Bolinas, CA, a small town in the San Francisco Bay area.

 Richard Avedon, 2004.

Only three sets of the photographs were made by Avedon and assembled into books. The books were then sent to the Saroyans as a surprise gift not too long after that three day visit.

 A sampler from Avedon's Saroyan family album.

One copy of the set is lost. The second remains with the Saroyan family. The negatives were destroyed. By this time in the photographer's career, his staff handled the post-shoot process. Here, it is highly probable that Avedon printed the photographs himself; this was a personal and not a professional, assignment, and it was actually not an assignment at all. It was a labor of love.


Aram Saroyan.              Photo by Gailyn Saroyan.

Avedon and Saroyan, the son of novelist William Saroyan, were close friends. They first met when Saroyan was a teenager - Aram Saroyan worked as an assistant to Avedon at the photographer's studio at 49th Street and Third Avenue in New York City beginning in 1956. Saroyan was present when Avedon shot many of his iconic photographs, including the session with Marilyn Monroe, a portrait of the actress on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

These photographs evoke a warmth, affection, and insouciance that is rarely, if ever, found in Avedon's fashion, civil rights, and portraiture work. That Avedon would occasionally take personal photographs and develop them himself is not a secret, though Avedon routinely suppressed this work, not wishing it to be associated with his professional endeavors at Avedon Studios. This was his private life from his camera's eye.

The album presents a marvelous association between one of the greatest photographers of the twentieth century and a writer who was strongly shaped and influenced by him, not only as an artist, but as a friend, mentor, and confidant.

It is being offered by Royal Books of Baltimore, MD. The asking price is $110,000.
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AVEDON, Richard. SAROYAN, Aram. A Collection of Thirty-Five Unpublished Photographs by Richard Avedon of Aram Saroyan and His Family. 35 (mostly) 10 1/4 x 7 inch silver gelatin prints, mounted on card stock. Bound into an oblong quarto orange morocco leather portfolio with gilt titles and rules, with matching marbled endpapers.
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