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著名摄影家Helmut Newton
3826
1
2004-02-04 00:11:00
很有名的摄影家,为vogue拍过很多照片。
Helmut Newton and the Invincible Woman (New York Times)
By GINIA BELLAFANTE
Published: February 3, 2004
Of all the scenes Helmut Newton created for his camera during the
half-century he worked as a fashion photographer, none manage to sum
up his world view as cogently as one he took for French Vogue in 1994,
which pits a woman against a roast chicken. Here, plump-fingered,
bejeweled hands tear at a well-glazed bird as if it were about to
unleash 1,000 locusts from its cavity. Newton was no champion of cozy
domesticity. Start succumbing to nights at home with a warm dinner, a
nice guy and a bottle of Burgundy and you forfeit all those
life-affirming chances to act out scenes from "The Night Porter" in a
musty hotel somewhere not on the Connecticut shore.
Newton, who died two weeks ago in a car accident in Los Angeles at the
age of 83, used to enjoy saying that he was not an intellectual and
did not stand for much. But certainly he stood against anything that
might get in the way of a woman's sexual gamesmanship. The women in
Newton's pictures almost never cultivate the attention of men. The
attention comes naturally, either by way of their nonchalance or the
glamorous oddity of their Valkyrian physical presence or both.
In a typical Newton image a woman is turning her head away from the
lover who is desperately trying to lay claim to her. She will smoke
her way through an attempted seduction, though she is hardly ever
seduced. Newton liked to position seminude women next to men armored
in the costume of a suit. But it is always the men, so naked in their
amorous ambition, who are rendered vulnerable to dangerously uncertain
outcomes.
Newton's photographs have been subject to all manner of
misinterpretation, especially in the 1970's when the women's movement
understood most fashion images, particularly those of unclothed women
taken by men, to be victimizing. Moreover, his opus offers women in
neck braces, harnesses and leg casts and at least one wheelchair. In
"Helmut Newton," his talked-about 2003 autobiography, he explained
this proclivity in one line, saying that he simply liked the look of
Erich von Stroheim in "The Grand Illusion."
But what seems to have motivated Newton is the notion of female
triumph over adversity. The women to whom he attached prostheses and
other contraptions looked just as empowered as the ones he dangled
from helicopters. There was no limit in his mind to female power.
Newton, as is well known, was born to a wealthy Jewish family in
Berlin in 1920 and set off to China in 1938 to escape Nazi
persecution. "My mother was very capricious, but around 1935-36 she
became a tower of strength," he wrote in his memoir. "The strength had
left my father. I could see that." His mother engineered the release
from Germany that saved his life.
After stints in Singapore and Australia, where he met his wife and
creative partner, June, Newton moved to Paris in the 50's to pursue
the photography career he had begun as a teenager. He long betrayed a
fascination with the kind of female body that did not come into vogue
until the 90's. A weak little boy, emasculated by his mother's
insistence on dressing him in girlish velvet suits, Newton fetishized
articulated musculature in women. As Phyllis Posnick, the executive
fashion editor of Vogue, put it, "He'd always say, `Don't send me any
of your scrawny, undernourished models.' "
But Newton's influence on fashion extended beyond an interest in
certain physical types. The ethos of decadence pervasive in Tom Ford's
work is attributable in some part to Newton. Countless loopily
reductive advertising campaigns ¡ª Mario Sorrenti's women with dogs in
leather masks for Ungaro ¡ª and bad fashion shoots can trace their
lineage to Newton, too.
Perhaps what young imitators miss is that Newton understood what
motivates a beautiful woman to gussy herself up. In his photographs
women lose their cool when they are in the company of other women. The
catfights he staged were not as much pornographic fantasy or camp play
as they were a realization that women judge themselves most severely
against members of their own sex. If contemporary fashion
photographers are plunging into the psychological byroads of the
female mind, it has been pretty easy to miss.
Helmut Newton and the Invincible Woman (New York Times)
By GINIA BELLAFANTE
Published: February 3, 2004
Of all the scenes Helmut Newton created for his camera during the
half-century he worked as a fashion photographer, none manage to sum
up his world view as cogently as one he took for French Vogue in 1994,
which pits a woman against a roast chicken. Here, plump-fingered,
bejeweled hands tear at a well-glazed bird as if it were about to
unleash 1,000 locusts from its cavity. Newton was no champion of cozy
domesticity. Start succumbing to nights at home with a warm dinner, a
nice guy and a bottle of Burgundy and you forfeit all those
life-affirming chances to act out scenes from "The Night Porter" in a
musty hotel somewhere not on the Connecticut shore.
Newton, who died two weeks ago in a car accident in Los Angeles at the
age of 83, used to enjoy saying that he was not an intellectual and
did not stand for much. But certainly he stood against anything that
might get in the way of a woman's sexual gamesmanship. The women in
Newton's pictures almost never cultivate the attention of men. The
attention comes naturally, either by way of their nonchalance or the
glamorous oddity of their Valkyrian physical presence or both.
In a typical Newton image a woman is turning her head away from the
lover who is desperately trying to lay claim to her. She will smoke
her way through an attempted seduction, though she is hardly ever
seduced. Newton liked to position seminude women next to men armored
in the costume of a suit. But it is always the men, so naked in their
amorous ambition, who are rendered vulnerable to dangerously uncertain
outcomes.
Newton's photographs have been subject to all manner of
misinterpretation, especially in the 1970's when the women's movement
understood most fashion images, particularly those of unclothed women
taken by men, to be victimizing. Moreover, his opus offers women in
neck braces, harnesses and leg casts and at least one wheelchair. In
"Helmut Newton," his talked-about 2003 autobiography, he explained
this proclivity in one line, saying that he simply liked the look of
Erich von Stroheim in "The Grand Illusion."
But what seems to have motivated Newton is the notion of female
triumph over adversity. The women to whom he attached prostheses and
other contraptions looked just as empowered as the ones he dangled
from helicopters. There was no limit in his mind to female power.
Newton, as is well known, was born to a wealthy Jewish family in
Berlin in 1920 and set off to China in 1938 to escape Nazi
persecution. "My mother was very capricious, but around 1935-36 she
became a tower of strength," he wrote in his memoir. "The strength had
left my father. I could see that." His mother engineered the release
from Germany that saved his life.
After stints in Singapore and Australia, where he met his wife and
creative partner, June, Newton moved to Paris in the 50's to pursue
the photography career he had begun as a teenager. He long betrayed a
fascination with the kind of female body that did not come into vogue
until the 90's. A weak little boy, emasculated by his mother's
insistence on dressing him in girlish velvet suits, Newton fetishized
articulated musculature in women. As Phyllis Posnick, the executive
fashion editor of Vogue, put it, "He'd always say, `Don't send me any
of your scrawny, undernourished models.' "
But Newton's influence on fashion extended beyond an interest in
certain physical types. The ethos of decadence pervasive in Tom Ford's
work is attributable in some part to Newton. Countless loopily
reductive advertising campaigns ¡ª Mario Sorrenti's women with dogs in
leather masks for Ungaro ¡ª and bad fashion shoots can trace their
lineage to Newton, too.
Perhaps what young imitators miss is that Newton understood what
motivates a beautiful woman to gussy herself up. In his photographs
women lose their cool when they are in the company of other women. The
catfights he staged were not as much pornographic fantasy or camp play
as they were a realization that women judge themselves most severely
against members of their own sex. If contemporary fashion
photographers are plunging into the psychological byroads of the
female mind, it has been pretty easy to miss.
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