by Alison Rodberg
Upon close examination of a framed photographic self-portrait, a funny thing happens, as you will likely catch a glimpse of yourself in the glass. Next comes the subsequent realization that you are viewing yourself viewing the artist viewing him or herself. Which, in turn, provokes myriad questions about the purpose and meaning of self-portraiture, particularly in the photographic medium. A portrait, historically, has represented validation of status and a desire to be preserved for posterity. Before the invention of the daguerreotype, the aristocracy commissioned their likenesses to be captured in sculpted busts and formal paintings.
With this historical context in mind, then, what does the contemporary photographer seek to gain in producing a self-portrait? Historical reference? Artistic validation? The Audrey and Sydney Irmas Collection of Photographic Self-Portraiture at LACMA is the most substantial in the country, and arguably the best resource from which to seek answers to these inquiries.
At many points while navigating the multi-room collection, I pondered what I would want to include in an artwork as personal and significant as a self-portrait. Vanity motivates me to depict beauty, while history fuels me with a desire to be innovative. When exploring works of this kind, it is impossible to ignore the prolific oeuvre of Cindy Sherman (top image and top left of second image). The heir apparent to contemporary self-portraiture, she has captured images of herself posing as alter-egos since the 1970s, most famously in the Untitled Film Stills series. And yet, when reflecting on her portfolio, she says, ”I feel I’m anonymous in my work. When I look at the pictures, I never see myself; they aren’t self-portraits. Sometimes I disappear.” So perhaps my analysis of what motivates a self-portrait is far off. Maybe the artist’s body simply becomes the most convenient prop available for expressing the desired message.
