Monday, January 11, 2016

A Love Affair With The Lens

Let me preface this by saying I have never been a fan of Bowie's music. Just not my thing. He had a few very radio-friendly songs that I liked but, by and large, I found his music to be grating. And that's not a personal affront to him or to his fans. People like different things, for reasons which cannot be explained in black and white terms. This is why art is art, and not science. That said, the guy was incredibly likable and had great presence. If musical performance Bowie didn't do it for me, I liked nonfiction Bowie: the guy who turned up on talk shows or variety shows and chatted with the host was charming and clever as all get-out. And, during the last half of his life, he sure could wear the hell out of a good suit.

I'm the daughter of a photographer, though. For me, Bowie will always be that long, lean, immensely photographic figure whose portraits by some of the best in the business often landed in the magazines and journals and annual anthologies my dad would bring home and allow me to scour. The camera loved him. In a lot of ways, I grew up not even knowing he was a rock star, so much as a fashion and photographic icon. Not unlike Grace Jones, in my mind.

He looked like no one else. The camera will never love anyone else as much as it loved him. He seems to have had a life well lived, and provided for his own everlasting peace, in his own, humble way. Most excellent, Mr. Bowie. The camera will miss you.

No comments: