Fourteen years ago, the exhibit “Diane Arbus Revelations” at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art brought together nearly 200 of the New York photographer’s often-quirky images, plus contact sheets, notebooks and even a re-creation of her darkroom. It was a hugely successful show, revealing the expanse of images— beyond the familiar freakish subjects — captured by Arbus, who died in 1971.
But there was more — additional prints, negatives and papers. Jeff Rosenheim, who had written for that exhibit’s catalog, asked Arbus’ daughter Doone what she was going to do with “all that stuff.” Eventually, that collection was donated to New York’s Metropolitan Museum of Art, where Rosenheim is a curator. Now, from that trove of “stuff,” more than 100 rarely seen Arbus photographs are showcased at the San Francisco museum. The exhibit runs through April 30.
Comprising images from 1956 to 1962, the first half of Arbus’ independent career, it can be thought of as a “prequel” to that earlier show. She was using a 35-mm camera then, which didn’t give the larger, more precise portrait images of the Rolleiflex camera she would use later. But the photographs in this exhibit, subtitled “In the Beginning,” are not the product of a junior-grade Arbus, even though the promotional material gives the show’s title in lower-case — “diane arbus,” as if she were growing into her name and fame.
Most of these photographs, all printed by Arbus, were not displayed until last year at the Metropolitan Museum. Primarily depicting New York City more than half a century ago, they show a lost world of movie theater ushers in elaborate uniforms and women wearing dressy little hats on the bus.
But both the subjects and Arbus’ titles seem familiar: Among them are “Man with a curious baby on the subway”; “Kid in a hooded jacket aiming a gun”; “Blonde female impersonator standing by a dressing table, Hempstead, L.I.”; and “The Human Pincushion, Ronald C. Harrison, N.J.”
A number of the exhibit’s images suggest Arbus is just beginning to find her way as a distinctive artist. But the psychological depth, haunting settings (the morgue, for one) and unflinching people who are her subjects show that she didn’t become Diane Arbus. She always was.
“Her style is in place from the beginning,” Rosenheim said at a preview of the exhibit with the San Francisco curator, Corey Keller. It was in 1956 that Arbus struck out on her own after several years of fashion and commercial photography with her husband. That year she labeled a roll of film “No. 1.” Rosenheim said he would have given these photos his attention even if he didn’t know about Arbus’ later works that brought her fame. After all, they make up half of her independent career.
“It’s not exactly the subject matter that distinguishes her work,” Rosenheim observed. As one section of the exhibit points out, photographers such as Lisa Model, Robert Frank and Garry Winograd did similar “street photography” at the time.
“What was more important to her,” Rosenheim said, “was the relationship with the subject. Arbus felt the relationship was more important than the photograph. She waited until the subject returned her gaze.” Eventually, viewers of the photographs enter that relationship.
“Diane Arbus: In the Beginning” is actually an austere exhibit. About 100 photographs, many just 6 by 9 inches in size, are arranged in groups of three and four in five galleries on the museum’s third floor. They are mostly dark black-and-white images against pale gray walls.
A sixth gallery is hung with nine larger prints, about 14 inches square, from Arbus’ 1970-1971 series known as “A Box of 10 Photographs.” This set reflects the full range of her career, and includes her best known images, such as the grimacing “Child with a toy hand grenade in Central Park, N.Y.C” from 1962, and the dour “Boy with a straw hat waiting to march in a pro-war parade, N.Y.C.” from 1967.
The early works are arranged chronologically, and it’s interesting to see how Arbus developed her straight-on portrait style. This middle-aged, well-dressed woman on the street with her eyes closed — what is she thinking? Arbus may have known, but she leaves it up to us to decide.
The expected shocks are here, too: “Corpse with receding hairline and a toe tag, N.Y.C.” at the morgue; a fire-eater at a carnival with the flames dominating the picture; and the startling but amusing Halloween-masked boys sitting on a stoop, “Five members of The Monster Fan Club, N.Y.C.”
There are also terrific pictures that veer in different directions. “Audience with projection booth, N.Y.C.” is almost abstract, as Arbus aims her 35-mm camera toward the projector’s stream of light, not the movie screen. In another, two cha-cha dancers perform at the Palladium ballroom, but nobody in Arbus’ photographs seems to be having much fun in “Fun City.”
“Diane Arbus: In the Beginning” is an intimate path worth taking through the photographer’s early career. You wouldn’t want to miss the woman in the white fur jacket at the Italian street festival, the totally unrecognizable image of James Dean in a Coney Island wax museum or the barbershop photographed through the front door, so still that it looks as if some gangland violence will explode any minute.
‘Diane Arbus: In the Beginning’
Through: April 30, 10 a.m.-5 p.m. Friday-Tuesday, 10 a.m.-9 p.m. Thursday
Where: San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, 151 Third St., San Francisco
Admission: $19-$25; free for visitors 18 and younger; 415-357-4000, sfmoma.org
