It is believed by many that God, The Divine One, acts as both Creator and Destroyer. If so, it follows that all living beings have a spark of this duality inside us and that the Spirit of God is so powerful in some, it burns with a radiant need to create something great while destroying itself in the process. Think of a volcano; at one and the same time, it is building upon itself
by diminishing itself. The great photographer, Diane Arbus, seems to have been one of these exalted beings, able to capture with ease arresting and memorable images yet unable, most of the time, to
capture herself from herself and her own inner dybbuks. In "An Emergency in Slow Motion", esteemed author, William Todd Schultz, attempts to excavate and then to dissect, in fascinating ways, the duality that made Arbus Arbus. By his own admission,(and his humility adds to this book's accessibility and appeal), he makes many exacting inroads into his and our understanding of Arbus but admits that the animistic paradoxes of her life and art make her ultimately unknowable; the gestalt of her not able to be fully defined. In this way, he ties her in with the unlikely twin of his other exploratory psychobiography, Truman Capote; both Arbus and Capote were, after all, curators of the macabre, the outcast, the loner, the freaks of Nature. The
intensity of their excavations (archaeologists of the human condition, both) affected them negatively even as it elevated their subjects favorably. Both artists cast a spotlight on people the world would rather not look at but in so doing, were chopped down infuriatingly soon, two forest pines still alive when they died, the rich sap of creativity still bubbling in their branches.Some might say they chopped themselves down (death by oversensitivity) We dismiss self-pity nowadays as a useless tooth in an otherwise healthy mouth but only Arbus,a victim of long, depressive episodes aggravated by a chronic hepatitis knew the suffering she had to do battle with every,single day of her life. From a young age, Arbus steered her boat into unchartered waters, discovering subjects no photographer had ever explored: the outsiders of Society, the profoundly disturbed, the deviant, the marginalized, the maligned, those who represent, some say, the last prejudice, that element of our world that has no champion, no voice, no pride parade to give it the visibility and acceptance it deserves. Arbus gave them all a face, and so remarkable, so profound, so compassionate was her camera's eye that her portraits received international acclaim and made her the first American photographer to have her work displayed at the renowned Venice Biennale. But why did Arbus choose to showcase these mutant souls? This is the question Schultz asks in this comprehensive and compelling study of the troubled artist. Perhaps, he suggests, it was that Arbus, coming from a very rich, Jewish family (her parents owned the ritzy Rossets Department Store in New York City), and being an artist, she saw herself as not fitting in. Her photo subjects stand in sharp contrast to her upbringing (beautiful people, beautiful clothes, beautiful home furnishings). If she could not find herself a place in this lifestyle, see herself existing in it, might then her work, Schultz posits, be a rebellion, an acting out against wealth and privilege since who can there be less poor, less privileged, less entitled than the disturbing irregulars of the world, those who do not fit the moral order? For Arbus was taking photos not only of others but of herself. Her subjects are pure. It is their purity she comandeered. She needed it to feel alive. Ironically, it may be their
very purity that led Arbus to that bottle of barbiturates, those unforgiving razor blades on what turned out to be the saddest day of her life. Always fascinated by the masks people wear, and with using her camera to remove them, she found, perhaps, her own mask so permanently welded on, she could not take it off, did not want to anyway, and only by destroying herself (after having created so many extraordinary objects) was she able to end her Sisyphean struggle with being Diane, with being Divine. Poet/playwright, Hannah Senesh, wrote, "There are people whose brilliance continues to light the world even though they are no longer among the living. These lights are particularly bright when the night is dark. They light the way for Humankind."