Exhibition Review: Duane Michals at the Morgan Library
It is 9 AM on no Thursday in particular. Inside a relic of the New York Gilded Age, critics, curators, writers, and cherished industry friends are waiting in the museum’s annex with natural light, while enjoying a gracious spread of coffee and quiche bites before the grand reveal. I am told by Linda Benedict-Jones that the Morgan Museum and Library is Duane Michals’ favorite place in all of New York City. This makes sense to me; the museum with its marble, illuminated manuscripts, vault of antiques, and ambient rooms devoid of camera flashes from selfie-posturing, could easily make you forget you are in New York.
I am suddenly appreciative of name tags, despite some of the “first day of school” PTSD the tags invoke. As it turns out, Linda is the long-standing friend of Michals and curated his much-lauded retrospective at the Carnegie Museum of Art in their home base of Pittsburgh back in 2014. I am conscious of my bedhead at 9:15, when Linda asks if I would like to meet him. We alight from one lily pad to another with our breakfast where we entwine our conversation with Michals and his good friend, Stephen Perloff, also from Pittsburgh and the Editor-in-Chief of The Photo Review.
I was mostly mute, but vastly enjoying being a fly on a wall. I sensed a lull and my instincts as an assistant kicked in. “It is no longer a woman’s job to get a man’s coffee,” Michals reminded me in a welcomed demonstration of philogyny. I thought more about Greek words and an earlier comment from Michals about the ancient Greeks and their infatuation. I wondered if the plucky eighty-seven-year-old photographer felt the burden to uphold the lineage of photography, the way the ancient Greeks were encumbered to uphold Hellenism.
New fans of Duane Michals’ work will quickly learn that the artist is not a purist but someone who understands the importance of nuance and who is continuing the legacy of photography. Michals has had a six-decade distinguished career. Recently, the photographer has taken up the medium of film making, which reminded me of David Hockney’s new medium of iPad painting; it shows an earnest pleasure in life’s simple enjoyments. The Morgan is showcasing some of Michals’ recent film projects.
Thoughtful words were prefaced by museum director, Colin B. Bailey. Michals followed with his, “My gift to you is that I am not you,” and it was off to the races for viewers. You feel a bit like you are getting lost in John Barth-esque Funhouse. The art is sectionalized by themes: Playtime, Nature, Image and Word, Immortality, Time, Death, Theater, Reflection, Love and Desire, and Illusion.
Admirers will be happy to see his famous series, such as “Empty New York” (1964-65), “I Build a Pyramid” (1978), “Paradise Regained” (1968), “The Human Condition” (1969), “Chance Meeting,” (1970), “The Bewitched Bee” (1986), and many others. The convex mirror purchased in Bath featured in “Dr. Heisenberg's magic mirror of uncertainty” (1998) is guaranteed to be a crowd-pleaser. This retrospect showcases many of Michals’ culminating influences like manuscripts from William Blake or trinkets like a paper boat crafted by Nathanial Hawthorne. “There are Things Here Not Seen in This Photograph,” (1977) was my personal favorite photo. There is a frustration for an artist not being able to convey the subtle details that embody an experience, like the shirt soaked with perspiration or the inane drunk chatter about the current President, Nixon.
For everyone, Duane Michals’ photos will resonate differently. When I look at the letter “Shopping with Mother” (1978), I will inevitably think about my own mother. Instead of memory of a dress shop, I have a photo of a newly polished car steering wheel with the light cascading behind. It is not seen in the photo, but my mother drove that car more than anyone, and on the rearview mirror hangs Mardi Gras beads. The auxiliary port below where she used to light her cigarettes is also missing from view, along with her memory.
As I left the exhibit, I heard one woman say kids today will never understand. I walked out with a notebook of scrawl and reverted to my phone. What’s not to get?