An
intimate exhibition of black-and-white photographs by Jeff Bridges opened at
the George Eastman House in July. Whether entirely intentional or not, the
exhibit is a subtle companion to Site
Seeing: Photographic Excursions in Tourism. It continues to foster our
ongoing romance with photographs, and perhaps more importantly, with
photographic memory.
           Pictures is a selection of 70 images that Bridges has taken on his various movie sets
for more than 28 years — from King Kong to The Door in the Floor. It is also
the title of his new book.
           Bridges started taking pictures when
he was a teenager (in town recently to receive the George Eastman Honorary
Scholar award, Bridges fondly remembered playing with his dad’s Nikon and being
entranced by the click of the shutter). But the idea to capture the otherwise
forgotten moments on a film set and put them in a book for cast and crew was
actually suggested by Starman costar Karen Allen. Bridges says in his exhibit statement: “Karen’s brainstorm
marked the beginning of a series of privately published ‘albums.’ These were
given in appreciation to the cast and crew… [celebrating]
the work we did together.”
           Bridges uses a fairly rare panorama
camera called the Widelux. But he uses the camera not
in its normally intended way — photographing vistas — but by coming close
to the subject that interests him. He also captures things that happen to be on
the periphery of his vision. And it’s what’s on the periphery that is quite
often more interesting than what is central to the photograph.
           In First Day of Shooting, The Fabulous Baker
Boys, 1989, brothers Jeff and Beau are in a large bathroom getting ready
for… the first day of shooting. Here we get to see the photographer, his
reflection “captured,” as it were, in the mirror. He is poised to “capture” his
brother Beau who seems to be looking straight at us but is really looking at
Jeff. But wait. As the eye travels right, there’s the crew, complete with
microphones and big lights. All they need is “action.”
           Since everything is in focus, your
eyes can explore all that unfolds. Take, for example, Peter Bogdanovich: Lining up a Shot, Texasville, 1990. We see on the left members of the
film crew assisting the director in the middle, who peers into the windshield
to set up the shot. In this instance, we “share” space with actor-photographer
Bridges, whose knee also peeks into the frame. Continuing onto the right is the
rest of the steering wheel and expanse of dashboard. We are “up close and
personal.”
           The edge-to-edge sharpness and
format of the frame, which has a very similar ratio to the film format of CinemaScope, brings us behind the scenes as if it were a
movie in itself. Come to think of it, if movie theaters would check out
Bridges’ photographs as examples of what a movie should look like when it’s
projected, then we moviegoers would see films the way they were intended.
Instead, too often we’re subjected to nauseatingly out-of-focus parts of the
screen, not to mention bad sound, that end up
butchering the incredible craft of the director and cinematographer as well as
the rest of the crew that created the magic for us in the first place.
Interestingly, Bridges also remarked that one of his objectives in making Pictures was to leave something in place
at a time when the filmic process may be a dying dinosaur.
           As you walk around the gallery,
you’re drawn to the images — either because of some familiarity with the
actors or with the particular movie itself. You can tell that Bridges has a
great fondness for what he does both as an actor and a photographer. Still,
Bridges worries that these up close and personal peeks behind the scenes
“[expose] a bit of the magic… [unmasking] things that
were never meant to be seen.” On the contrary, these candid snapshots, as large
as they are and just like the various films themselves, become fragmentary
possessions and as such, are also illusory reminders that somehow we can have
what we seek.
Jeff Bridges — Picturesis on display at the
George Eastman House, 900 East Avenue, through September 19. Hours: Tuesday through Saturday 10 a.m. to 5
p.m. with
Thursday nights until 8 p.m. Sunday 12 to 5 p.m. $8, $6 seniors, $5 students, $3
children. 271-3361, www.eastmanhouse.org
This article appears in Aug 11-17, 2004.
