We’ve been hearing from many of the people we’ve photographed over the years and wonder if they’d be willing to post a response reflecting on the experience of being photographed? Or perhaps, what it feels like to have their portrait included in this Museum exhibition?
I am unable to see the show, but I wish I could! It is so good to see J & J get the recognition that they deserve!
I believe a key element to J & J’s success is how fascinated and curious they are with other people. They really focus on what you are saying and seem genuinely interested. At the same time, you never feel that they are judging you. You can be completely honest with them and just be yourself. I think that kind of trust comes through in their photographs.
My dad didn’t want a print of J & J’s photograph. “Why would I want a photograph of you looking so sad?” – Dad.
But in my opinion, it’s the most amazing photograph anyone has ever taken of me. It is not the most flattering, but it is the most honest.
As J & J worked on lighting and settings, I was left to sit in the dark under a spotlight and think. It was a few weeks before graduation so there was a lot on my mind. When they told me to look at the lens, it was like a mirror and I saw myself staring back.
The photograph is really of me looking at my own image and reacting. I didn’t recognize the person in the lens. The photograph captured how lost I really felt.
Every time I see the photo of myself that Shimon and Lindeman took many years ago in my filthy kitchen, I see a little ghost in the corner of it. I don’t suppose I believe in ghosts any more than the average inmate of the post-enlightenment drone state, but I like to think I see him… At any rate, I had a beloved and legendary guinea pig named Chumpy who ‘posed’ for several of the (interminable — they warned me but I didn’t believe them till after the fact — you can see that the veins in my hands are swollen from having been held below my heart for so long) exposures that Julie and Johnie tried before they got to the final shot. The ones starring him landed on the cutting-room floor — perhaps beacuse his image was blurred from his nervous scampering — but I saw a couple of them, and now in my mind I see his little goofy butt juxtaposed over the finished work. What a guy. He used to sit on the couch with my roommates and I when we watched the Packer game, and every once in a while somebody would slip him a bottle-cap full of beer. One Sunday we lost track of how many times we’d filled his cup, and he got so drunk he kind of slid off the couch; when he landed he got up and looked at us defiantly: “What?! I’m not drunk, I did that on purpose. You guys fart.” He was quite old for a lagomorph when the photo was taken; he’s long dead now, and christ, I miss that little creature. It’s very moving to make friends with a prey animal. They’re more vibrantly alive than anything on earth… well, except when they’re drunk and watching TV.
First off, I am so honored to be a part of your show! I haven’t been around very long, but it’s been a really great experience to see how your work has changed and developed over time and I think a great aspect of this show is how well it works with your photos and past photos. I think it helps illuminate what makes your photos so distinct from what other people do. It has been really great to see myself documented in my different stages of life through your photos. This photo brings back memories of entering high school and how badly I wanted to graduate. I am always reminded of my different “stages” whenever I come back home to WI since our house is lined with your photos. The only person left to photograph in the family is Caffeine, she deserves a self portrait for Gregg’s office.
# Abhipadananda & Jyotir Vakyananda on 02 Sep 2008 at 10:03 am
We call Shimon and Lindemann “photo alchemists.” Alchemists dream of converting the base metal of lead to gold. Looking at the work featured in Unmasked and Anonymous, we can’t help but be struck at how Shimon and Lindemann convert the lead of everyday existence into something sublime and transcendent in its beauty. The platinum process prints and large format negatives give a magical feeling. You look into the eyes of the subjects—and see collaborators, co-conspirators that help you realize that life is unspeakably beautiful in its prosaic ordinariness. The camera captures an ephemeral moment, here once but never again in that way and makes it something timeless, an object of meditation.
How does it happen?
There was a popular HBO series called Six Feet Under about a family of undertakers. The final line of the series, spoken by an aspiring artist and photographer, is, “You can’t take a picture of it, its already gone.” These words capture the idea that the movement of time has its own insistence and imperative. It cannot be stopped—by human means.
But in the alchemical process of Shimon & Lindemann, you can take a picture because it hasn’t happened yet. “It” is the ennobling of the subject and conspirator that they venerate in the photographic process. Alchemy supposed to take the base metal lead and transform it into gold. They take the base metal of humanity and capture it as they aspire to the golden heights of the human soul.
Take a picture—it hasn’t happened yet, but it’s about to.
Being photographed by S&L was a revelatory experience. As mentioned in the book essay, we are trained from the youngest age to pose for the camera. But when the photographer makes a point not to say smile or tell us what to do, we are unsettled as to what is happening. And it shows in the faces and stances of those photographed. Someone called them alchemists. In the grainy show video, they appear to be 19th century magician and assistant, executing sleight of hand tricks in front of their subjects. What results are expressions that few could capture, and an honesty of image that takes some getting used to for the subject. But the images age well, stripped of trendy facial expressions of the day. Fabulous show, and thoughtful essay in the book. Congratulations J & J!
I have had a very difficult time putting my thoughts in order about my image in this show. My thoughts about the show itself, however, are very clear–it is quite remarkable, with many layers of meaning, and can be walked through more than once in a visit. In fact, if possible, a second visit would probably be advantageous, because it would allow time to process the thoughts generated by the first.
I agree with Susie, the previous poster, when she wrote, “an honesty of image that takes some getting used to for the subject.” I then wonder–am I being too sensitive? Because this image is my least favorite of all that J & J have taken of me, and the one I hoped they would never show. “Honesty” is an interesting word, as well, because this image is not the way I look in reality. Everyday lighting is rarely this harsh, and it emphasizes negative aspects of my appearance. However, the image is certainly true to the time it was taken.
So I go back and forth. I find the image compelling (and others have said so as well) but at the same time scary (as one person in particular said). I wonder what J & J were trying to show. Or were they simply providing the setting and lighting and seeing what emerged?
In essence, my experience has been unsettling (a word Susie uses as well). I’ve also gotten a lot of food for thought, and it will be quite some time (if ever) before I resolve my feelings. This is not necessarily a bad thing.
We’ve been hearing from many of the people we’ve photographed over the years and wonder if they’d be willing to post a response reflecting on the experience of being photographed? Or perhaps, what it feels like to have their portrait included in this Museum exhibition?
I am unable to see the show, but I wish I could! It is so good to see J & J get the recognition that they deserve!
I believe a key element to J & J’s success is how fascinated and curious they are with other people. They really focus on what you are saying and seem genuinely interested. At the same time, you never feel that they are judging you. You can be completely honest with them and just be yourself. I think that kind of trust comes through in their photographs.
My dad didn’t want a print of J & J’s photograph. “Why would I want a photograph of you looking so sad?” – Dad.
But in my opinion, it’s the most amazing photograph anyone has ever taken of me. It is not the most flattering, but it is the most honest.
As J & J worked on lighting and settings, I was left to sit in the dark under a spotlight and think. It was a few weeks before graduation so there was a lot on my mind. When they told me to look at the lens, it was like a mirror and I saw myself staring back.
The photograph is really of me looking at my own image and reacting. I didn’t recognize the person in the lens. The photograph captured how lost I really felt.
Every time I see the photo of myself that Shimon and Lindeman took many years ago in my filthy kitchen, I see a little ghost in the corner of it. I don’t suppose I believe in ghosts any more than the average inmate of the post-enlightenment drone state, but I like to think I see him… At any rate, I had a beloved and legendary guinea pig named Chumpy who ‘posed’ for several of the (interminable — they warned me but I didn’t believe them till after the fact — you can see that the veins in my hands are swollen from having been held below my heart for so long) exposures that Julie and Johnie tried before they got to the final shot. The ones starring him landed on the cutting-room floor — perhaps beacuse his image was blurred from his nervous scampering — but I saw a couple of them, and now in my mind I see his little goofy butt juxtaposed over the finished work. What a guy. He used to sit on the couch with my roommates and I when we watched the Packer game, and every once in a while somebody would slip him a bottle-cap full of beer. One Sunday we lost track of how many times we’d filled his cup, and he got so drunk he kind of slid off the couch; when he landed he got up and looked at us defiantly: “What?! I’m not drunk, I did that on purpose. You guys fart.” He was quite old for a lagomorph when the photo was taken; he’s long dead now, and christ, I miss that little creature. It’s very moving to make friends with a prey animal. They’re more vibrantly alive than anything on earth… well, except when they’re drunk and watching TV.
First off, I am so honored to be a part of your show! I haven’t been around very long, but it’s been a really great experience to see how your work has changed and developed over time and I think a great aspect of this show is how well it works with your photos and past photos. I think it helps illuminate what makes your photos so distinct from what other people do. It has been really great to see myself documented in my different stages of life through your photos. This photo brings back memories of entering high school and how badly I wanted to graduate. I am always reminded of my different “stages” whenever I come back home to WI since our house is lined with your photos. The only person left to photograph in the family is Caffeine, she deserves a self portrait for Gregg’s office.
We call Shimon and Lindemann “photo alchemists.” Alchemists dream of converting the base metal of lead to gold. Looking at the work featured in Unmasked and Anonymous, we can’t help but be struck at how Shimon and Lindemann convert the lead of everyday existence into something sublime and transcendent in its beauty. The platinum process prints and large format negatives give a magical feeling. You look into the eyes of the subjects—and see collaborators, co-conspirators that help you realize that life is unspeakably beautiful in its prosaic ordinariness. The camera captures an ephemeral moment, here once but never again in that way and makes it something timeless, an object of meditation.
How does it happen?
There was a popular HBO series called Six Feet Under about a family of undertakers. The final line of the series, spoken by an aspiring artist and photographer, is, “You can’t take a picture of it, its already gone.” These words capture the idea that the movement of time has its own insistence and imperative. It cannot be stopped—by human means.
But in the alchemical process of Shimon & Lindemann, you can take a picture because it hasn’t happened yet. “It” is the ennobling of the subject and conspirator that they venerate in the photographic process. Alchemy supposed to take the base metal lead and transform it into gold. They take the base metal of humanity and capture it as they aspire to the golden heights of the human soul.
Take a picture—it hasn’t happened yet, but it’s about to.
Being photographed by S&L was a revelatory experience. As mentioned in the book essay, we are trained from the youngest age to pose for the camera. But when the photographer makes a point not to say smile or tell us what to do, we are unsettled as to what is happening. And it shows in the faces and stances of those photographed. Someone called them alchemists. In the grainy show video, they appear to be 19th century magician and assistant, executing sleight of hand tricks in front of their subjects. What results are expressions that few could capture, and an honesty of image that takes some getting used to for the subject. But the images age well, stripped of trendy facial expressions of the day. Fabulous show, and thoughtful essay in the book. Congratulations J & J!
I have had a very difficult time putting my thoughts in order about my image in this show. My thoughts about the show itself, however, are very clear–it is quite remarkable, with many layers of meaning, and can be walked through more than once in a visit. In fact, if possible, a second visit would probably be advantageous, because it would allow time to process the thoughts generated by the first.
I agree with Susie, the previous poster, when she wrote, “an honesty of image that takes some getting used to for the subject.” I then wonder–am I being too sensitive? Because this image is my least favorite of all that J & J have taken of me, and the one I hoped they would never show. “Honesty” is an interesting word, as well, because this image is not the way I look in reality. Everyday lighting is rarely this harsh, and it emphasizes negative aspects of my appearance. However, the image is certainly true to the time it was taken.
So I go back and forth. I find the image compelling (and others have said so as well) but at the same time scary (as one person in particular said). I wonder what J & J were trying to show. Or were they simply providing the setting and lighting and seeing what emerged?
In essence, my experience has been unsettling (a word Susie uses as well). I’ve also gotten a lot of food for thought, and it will be quite some time (if ever) before I resolve my feelings. This is not necessarily a bad thing.