Portfolios:
New York1981
collage
Nov- Dec 2002
AuthenticityTribeca Film Festival II
resume
robert herman-You look so cute.
robin ross-What do you mean?
rh: Real is better than fake.
rr-What do you mean real is better than fake?
rh: You look good cause you’re not made up
and you’re just being yourself.
rr-Do you think that when you take
photographs you try to capture that in people?
rh: All the time. That’s the only thing I’m really looking
for.
rr-That real thing? I want a better description.
rh: When people’s hearts are open to the camera and
they are not self-conscious, and at the same time they
are aware of getting a photograph taken, but it doesn’t
bother them.
rr-Whereas it does bother some people?
rh: I always try to teach them how to get their picture
taken
rr-What do you do?
rh: I tell them that it’s all about method acting.
When you get a thought, a story, going in your head
and you just let the story tell your face what to do.
rr-Do you tell them a story sometimes?
rh: I had to photograph Levon Helm, the drummer
from The Band. I set up a little studio in the dressing
room at the Lone Star with a backdrop and lights and
I had an assistant. And when I was ready to shoot,
Levon said to me “You know I can’t do this until after
The first set and I’ve had a few beers.” So like two
hours later he comes back up and he says “I’m only
going to give you a minute and a half.” So I knew that
I couldn’t get him to do anything. So I told him this
story. The first concert I went to in New York City was
to see The Band playing at the Felt Forum. And it was
the first time I ever smoked hash. And all he had to
do was listen to me talk. But I was really talking about
him. And then he was just totally himself. I shot forty
frames, and he was so fucking real.
rr-Do you ever have to tell anyone a joke?
rh: Sometimes. And mostly they suck!
rr-Well I am going to ask you to tell me one right now.
rh: Only half of them are bad!!
rr-Why didn’t you say “only half of them are good?”
rh: I wanted to show that I have some humility, some
perspective.
rr-I see that, when you’re trying to put that humility
into your work, that perspective.
rh: When I photograph people I really have a lot of
respect for how hard it is to survive and be yourself
in a world where not being yourself gets you things.
rr-What do you think not being yourself gets you?
rh: In New York it gets you a lot of attention in the
beginning, and maybe you move a little faster in the
economic world ‘cause you’re imitating what you
think the powers that be are looking for.
rr-What are the powers that be?
rh: The people that run the corporations, that hire you,
the curators, whateverâ.|you have to be very aggressive.
All this is a projection of my personality, it’s not
anything objective. For a long time I wasn’t very
aggressive about my work due to a bad self-image.
And I inferred that the people who were aggressive -
that was my spin on it, which is probably not true -
the people who were successful with so much crummy
work up all over the place did it by hyping themselves
and making a persona that wasn’t real, to make the
system work for them.
rr-Do you know differently now? Some people who
have their work all over the place really have their
work all over the place because they believe they’re
work is good enough to have all over the place!
rh: Right, that’s true and when I was younger I didn’t
believe that. The thing that always drove me crazy was
I knew my photographs were good from the beginning,
the proof is that the pictures I took 25 years ago don’t
look dated and they still work and people want to still
look at them. The success I’m having now is because I
really believe that the way I wanted my life to work out
is to have success come from a healing place in myself...
that when I was getting success, I could enjoy it and
not criticize myself or divide myself in half, and feel
like I’m successful and feeling fucking miserable at the
same time...that I could be integrated when it all happened.
So that I can take things for what they are
instead of what I’m subjectively thinking they are.
rr-How would you show that misery in a balanced and
healing way? When you photograph other people are
you intrigued by that? How do you choose subjects and
how do you show misery in balance with that harmony
you’re talking about? That kind of acceptance of oneself?
Is your work about acceptance of oneself?
rh: It’s always been about that. Well, let me give you an
example. One of the first places I lived after graduating
college was a loft in Little Italy, and the landlord
was this guy who changed tires for a living. He had
the tire changing place downstairs since the 20’s or
30’s, he was in his eighties and he was still changing
tires. Everyday I’d go down to photograph him and
I’d buy him a sardine sandwich for lunch and do little
errands for him so he would let me hang around. For
2 or 3 years I would do this and he became this icon
to me - “the great American self-employed business
man who braved the elements ...” He endured the
cold in the winter and the heat in the summer and
just persisted and I really respected his persistence
and endurance. He had this craggy face, he was still
doing physical labor every day. His name was Harry
Budofsky. He became a symbol about what hard work
was all about and his face looked like he had been
through everything you can possibly go through, and
still he was functioning really well. And I just loved
him. I photographed him working, these kind of Paul
Strandish portraits in color. I saw an ambivalence
about him, I saw the pain he was in.
rr-What kind of pain was he in?
rh: Maybe it’s just the general pain we all feel going
through life. You can’t always do want you want,
I’m projecting.
rr-You’re a photographer! Photographs are projections!
rh: Yeah! And the really great thing about Harry was
that the things we’re talking about were totally visible
on his face. So he was a fabulous subject, I really identified
with him. Plus the fact that I saw in him a little bit
of the father I was always looking for. You know, not
the one with the clay feet, the one who is the real thing.
rr-Oh, that’s what we were talking about in the beginning
of this interview..
rh: Yeah! When everything is so real! When I was
photographing at the beginning maybe I saw the
harder parts of life, the sadder things. As I’ve started
to heal I started to see the joy and spontaneity, and
now identify with that more.
rr-You kind of see the full circle.
rh: I now see both sides a lot better. It’s really important
to find that thing , that spark or starting point that
makes a good picture. It’s that realness. The inner invisible
heart that comes out when people are themselves.
rr-So is that your inspiration?
rh: That’s what I started out to do at the very beginning,
how to get something invisible on film. You make the
invisible visible...The formal things like framing, light,
composition, texture and color all become a little microphone.
Like an acoustic guitar amplified by a mike and a
PA system putting out this really really small jewel, bringing
it out so people can recognize it. And they do. They
just get it! And that’s a real pleasure, you know you’re
speaking to the human being, the humble vulnerable
person inside of the viewer. That’s what I look for in
every picture that I take, it becomes very powerful.
rr-And when you literally amplify a coffee cup?
rh: This piece?
rr-Are you showing me that the coffee cup had been
through some kind of vulnerability and joyousness. A
coffee cup’s life? Maybe that coffee cup shared it’s life
with many people. Or a coffee cup in someone’s kitchen
maybe only shared it’s life with a few people - the cashier
who sold it, the person who unpacked it in the store, and
maybe with someone who lives alone. And they drink
from their coffee cup three times a day. They drink tea,
and they’re drinking from this beautiful lonely coffee
cup and the coffee cup resonates with the human’s loneliness,
emptiness, the empty cup, the full cup. The mystery
of the cup is that I don’t know if it’s empty or full. When
you show me a photograph of a person I pick up more
fullness from them Of course, it’s your take on them,
and it’s only my take on your take of them. Is the coffee
cup’s intrigue telling me a story about a human being.
rh: The coffee cup is the perfect metaphor for the spirit
of a person. The body is the cup and the coffee, or
whatever liquid is in there, is the spirit.
rr-Is the blood!
rh: No! Is the spirit! And when I see a coffee cup
that’s lit, the lighting is what strikes me and causes
my impulse to take picture, and when the light is
right on an inanimate object the light itself is an animating
force, like the idea of God animating human
beings, creating the first two and all that stuff.
rr-A little part of you gets to play a little part of God?
rh: No, I’m just recognizing it, I’m seeing something
that’s already there |and reporting on it. I saw this
light on this particular coffee cup on this particular
moment on this particular day in this particular place.
I think that by bringing it back alive it is like a hunter
bringing back an animal to show it to people who’ve
never seen it before. Look how beautiful life can be.
The camera is a metaphor for focused attention on
that particular moment, within all this sadness and
misery and unhappiness that we all feel, we have to be
reminded of that moment when life itself is so good.
And the reminder is in the details. §
Robert Herman’s photography exhibit at
McCaig-Welles runs from 11/02 - 12/03/02.
Interviewed by Robin Ross