The Barnes & Noble Review
Indelibility is a property that only attaches to the dead, so it took a suicide to make Diane Arbus a household name. She spent her career struggling, earning as little as $150 a page for her work. Though she was fast becoming a kind of photographer's photographer, it didn't raise her rates. The esteem of her peers did not count for much. Photography was still only just becoming a recognized art form, as Arthur Lubow repeatedly reminds us in this deeply researched biography, Diane Arbus: Portrait of a Photographer. "The irony is that when I'm dead, my work will skyrocket in value," Lubow records Arbus saying to one of her subjects, the feminist Ti-Grace Atkinson.
It took very little time for America to prove Arbus right. Arbus died in July 1971, at the age of forty-five. By November 1972, there was a Diane Arbus show on at the Museum of Modern Art in New York. Over a hundred of Arbus's photographs were on display. Among them was the famous portrait of the Wade twins, one composed and smiling, the other with hair askew and troubled eyes. It also displayed the photograph of the giant Eddie Carmel, back arched against the low ceiling of his parents' Bronx apartment. A monograph, edited by Marvin Israel and Doon Arbus, Diane's daughter, appeared on the heels of the show. It sold, as they say, like hotcakes, though whether it was the technical mastery or the plain circus attraction that drew them in is hard to say.
Arbus's pictures of outcasts and freaks became seminal images in the history of American photography. An Arbus "style" emerged, elements of which you can find in the photography that came after her, including in the work of Mary Ellen Mark and Sally Mann. Many of her subjects are looking at the camera straight on, which unnerves the viewer to begin with. The photographs are intimate yet distant, self-assured yet somehow tragic. The effect of the photo relies almost totally on those ambiguities, their inability to resolve into a clear verdict on their subjects. Are they simply self- possessed? Or are they fooling themselves? Or was it all a ruse? "Arbuses often amount to staged collaborations with their subjects," Peter Schjeldahl once wrote, "this is a matter not of falseness — she never said she was a documentarian — but of art."
In any event, not everyone was impressed. A youngish Susan Sontag went to see the MoMA show and then went to lunch with one of her editors at the New York Review of Books. The editor suggested she write about it. Sontag's appraisal of Arbus?s work was not approving. Sontag found Arbus's subjects "ugly"; she thought they wore "grotesque or unflattering clothes." It especially bothered her that the subjects of Arbus's photographs seemed, at the moment the shutter clicked, to be unaware of their freakishness. For Sontag, this smacked of cynicism, and she said so. "In so far as looking at most of these photographs is, undeniably, an ordeal, Arbus's work is typical of the kind of art popular among sophisticated urban people right now," Sontag wrote, "art that is a self-willed test of hardness."
Lubow does not think much of Sontag's points. In his view, Sontag misunderstands Arbus's process and the time Arbus took with her subjects, which provides evidence of deep engagement. She knew Eddie Carmel for ten years before she was able to get that one perfect picture of him. Yet even that doesn't mean she was infatuated with her subjects. She was neither friend nor foe, Lubow writes:
The mistake is to imagine that she entirely empathized with her subjects or despised them, that she regarded these people either as soul mates or as repugnant. Like a photograph, life isn't just black and white.
Indeed it isn't, but this sounds more like a biographer's creed than an intellectual reply to the ideas Sontag was playing with. Lubow is not an abstract thinker; instead, he spends most of the book trying to convince us that Arbus was neither as perverse nor as tragic as she sometimes seemed. He grounds her career specifically in the financial facts of her life: though she is often spoken about as a daughter of privilege because her father owned a department store, Arbus and her two siblings inherited little (the family had lost much of its fortune in the Depression). Divorced early from the fellow photographer and later actor whose last name she adopted, Arbus rarely if ever earned enough to support herself. And it was really economic insecurity that made her, Lubow makes clear, a chaser of fortune, obsessed with the paucity of the money she was making.
Lubow is at his best, however, when his focus includes not just the photographer but her camera. He surveys the history of photography in America as he glides from each of Arbus's images to the next. The book canvasses the careers of Robert Frank and Richard Avedon alongside Arbus. The latter, in particular, was both friend and rival to Arbus, and his presence in the text makes her struggle to become recognized all the more poignant; Avedon's celebrity obsession is much more aligned with the priorities of magazine editors than her freaks.
Still, Lubow is somewhat hampered as he tracks Arbus's life, as opposed to her work. He reveals, early in the book, that he was not granted access to the Diane Arbus archive held by the Museum of Modern Art. The archive contains a large trove of correspondence and other writings, as well as a great many negatives and photographs that have never been exhibited. It is controlled by Arbus's two daughters, Doon and Amy. With an apparent desire to safeguard their mother's privacy, they haven't allowed any independent researchers to look at their mother's writings. More challenges for both writer and reader are created by the fact that they rarely permit reproductions of Arbus's photographs to appear in books on her work, so Lubow, like everyone else, has to make do with his descriptions and a list of works considered.
Lubow worked on this book for something like thirteen years. He had access to many of Arbus's friends for his purposes, and certainly gathered enough to construct a coherent trajectory of her life. Still, biographers are completists by nature. Lubow glides over any frustration he might have felt without any bitter remarks — the only hints of it come when he is forced to speculate about photographs he hasn't seen, or when he has to treat Doon Arbus in particular. Lubow reports, for example, that many of Diane's friends believed that Doon had an affair with Marvin Israel, and that this affair was the occasion, if not altogether the cause, of Diane's suicide.
Lubow offers no clear view on whether or not these speculations are true. That Israel had affairs with both mother and daughter, and that Arbus was frustrated both artistically and sexually seem to be beyond question. But without the critical missing link of the family correspondence, you are left thinking that there is more to this story. That feeling, as it happens, is not unlike the response Arbus's own photographs often elicit. The moments she composes offer a tantalizing hint of an encounter, a glimpse of a human drama etched into the frame. But the truth of the person remains elusive: that's what keeps us looking. Photographer and subject prove, in Arbus's case, closer than we knew.
Michelle Dean is a journalist, critic, and erstwhile lawyer whose writing has appeared at The New Yorker, Slate, The Nation, and The Awl. Reviewer: Michelle Dean
The New York Times Book Review - Lyle Rexer
…the book reads more like a novel—salacious, mysterious…and harrowing…the narrative gives us something more important than anything it lacks: the embodied voice of Arbus herself. Many of her quotations are taken from the texts in Revelations. They include letters, writings, even captions she wrote for her magazine assignments. Staged by Lubow, however, they emerge out of her ongoing argument with reality, pursued through sex, photographs and words. Arbus is possibly the closest thing America has to Kafka, a profound ironist who simply did not see the world in conventional terms and was…incapable of saying anything uncompelling.
Publishers Weekly
★ 04/11/2016
With 12 years of scrupulous research and a critic’s eye, Lubow turned a routine magazine assignment for the New York Times into the defining biography of photographer Diane Arbus, whose portraits of twins, circus freaks, and transvestites, among many others, established her as one of the leading artists of the 20th century. With few exceptions, Arbus’s preferred subjects were “the obscure over the celebrated, victims of power over its agents.” Lubow follows her life from her birth into an upper-class Jewish family in N.Y.C. in 1923; through her early marriage and subsequent fashion photography partnership with her husband, Allan; to the birth of their two daughters and their later divorce; and finally to her solo career with its monographs and museum exhibitions. The book explores how Arbus’s lifelong depression, an incestuous relationship with her poet brother, other damaging love affairs, and ongoing financial distress may have led to her suicide at age 48. Relying primarily on interviews with friends, lovers, and colleagues, as well as Arbus’s previously unavailable correspondence, Lubow provides not only a comprehensive assessment of her groundbreaking work but, perhaps more significantly, a revealing documentary of Arbus’s often-tortured life. The biography’s only flaw is the lack of Arbus’s photos (the estate denied access); Lubow is forced to rely on wordy descriptions and exhaustive citations. But fans of her work will have no trouble calling up the iconographic portraits from their personal memory banks. And as Arbus frequently acknowledged, “The subject... is always more important than the picture.” Agent: Elyse Cheney, Elyse Cheney Literary. (June)
From the Publisher
With vivid details and acute insights, Arthur Lubow, an exceptionally talented writer, has brought to life a unique and enduring artist. Through her camera, Diane Arbus gave us an enlarged view of human nature. This book shows who she was and how she did it.” — Gay Talese
“Arbus...took the time to establish a genuine bond with her subjects so that her photographs, while bold and unsparing, were also deeply sympathetic. Arthur Lubow has approached Arbus in much the same spirit, and the result is a perceptive, engaging, and profoundly moving portrait.” — John Berendt
“The author produces a thorough, sympathetic portrait of a complicated woman who, from childhood on, stood out as ‘totally original.’ . . . Lubow sharply captures Arbus’ restlessness, pain, and artistic vision.“ — Kirkus Reviews (starred review)
“In a fast-moving narrative style that reads like an eyewitness account, Lubow gets inside both the person and the persona. This book both analyzes and contributes to the notoriety and fascination with one of the most complicated figures in the history of photography.” — Jeff Wall
“Lubow turned a routine magazine assignment for the New York Times into the defining biography of photographer Diane Arbus . . . Lubow provides not only a comprehensive assessment of her groundbreaking work but, perhaps more significantly, a revealing documentary of Arbus’s often-tortured life.” — Publishers Weekly (starred review)
“Lubow’s portrait is the most sharply focused, encompassing, and incisive to date.” — Booklist
“Lubow is entering a crowded arena, for the Arbus industry is hardly a place of repose. Yet the author fights for his spot, and earns it. His research is unflagging and his timing is good.” — The New Yorker
“Enormously satisfying. . . This compelling book shows an Arbus that is as mysterious as her best photographs. Like them, she tells us something about ourselves that is vital, but that we may not always want to see.” — Nickolas Butler, internationally bestselling author of Shotgun Lovesongs and The Hearts of Men
“Big, sharply focused, disturbingly intimate...Lubow chronicles Arbus’s rise and fall with a novelistic intensity that plumbs the decisive moments of a driven, unsettled soul...A major work.” — USA Today
“Arthur Lubow’s compelling new biography about the revolutionary photographer Diane Arbus brilliantly demonstrates how the emotionally fragile state of an artist can be channeled into something wondrous. . . . Superbly crafted. . . . Lubow is a talented and sensitive writer.” — The Washington Post
“The book reads more like a novel-salacious, mysterious . . . and harrowing.” — New York Times Book Review
“Epic, sympathetic, but unsparing.” — New York magazine
“A stellar new biography. . . . ruthlessly researched and beautifully written.” — Philadelphia Inquirer
USA Today
Big, sharply focused, disturbingly intimate...Lubow chronicles Arbus’s rise and fall with a novelistic intensity that plumbs the decisive moments of a driven, unsettled soul...A major work.
Gay Talese
With vivid details and acute insights, Arthur Lubow, an exceptionally talented writer, has brought to life a unique and enduring artist. Through her camera, Diane Arbus gave us an enlarged view of human nature. This book shows who she was and how she did it.
The New Yorker
Lubow is entering a crowded arena, for the Arbus industry is hardly a place of repose. Yet the author fights for his spot, and earns it. His research is unflagging and his timing is good.
Booklist
Lubow’s portrait is the most sharply focused, encompassing, and incisive to date.
The Washington Post
Arthur Lubow’s compelling new biography about the revolutionary photographer Diane Arbus brilliantly demonstrates how the emotionally fragile state of an artist can be channeled into something wondrous. . . . Superbly crafted. . . . Lubow is a talented and sensitive writer.
Nickolas Butler
Enormously satisfying. . . This compelling book shows an Arbus that is as mysterious as her best photographs. Like them, she tells us something about ourselves that is vital, but that we may not always want to see.
John Berendt
Arbus...took the time to establish a genuine bond with her subjects so that her photographs, while bold and unsparing, were also deeply sympathetic. Arthur Lubow has approached Arbus in much the same spirit, and the result is a perceptive, engaging, and profoundly moving portrait.
Jeff Wall
In a fast-moving narrative style that reads like an eyewitness account, Lubow gets inside both the person and the persona. This book both analyzes and contributes to the notoriety and fascination with one of the most complicated figures in the history of photography.
USA Today
Big, sharply focused, disturbingly intimate...Lubow chronicles Arbus’s rise and fall with a novelistic intensity that plumbs the decisive moments of a driven, unsettled soul...A major work.
The New Yorker
Lubow is entering a crowded arena, for the Arbus industry is hardly a place of repose. Yet the author fights for his spot, and earns it. His research is unflagging and his timing is good.
Booklist
Lubow’s portrait is the most sharply focused, encompassing, and incisive to date.
New York Times Book Review
The book reads more like a novel-salacious, mysterious . . . and harrowing.
Philadelphia Inquirer
A stellar new biography. . . . ruthlessly researched and beautifully written.
New York magazine
Epic, sympathetic, but unsparing.
From the Publisher - AUDIO COMMENTARY
"Lubow sharply captures Arbus' restlessness, pain, and artistic vision." —Kirkus Starred Review
Boston Globe
Enormously satisfying. . . This compelling book shows an Arbus that is as mysterious as her best photographs. Like them, she tells us something about ourselves that is vital, but that we may not always want to see.
Wall Street Journal
A clean and compelling narrative…[Clark] tells the story with flair.
Library Journal - Audio
04/15/2017
Many of us tend to think we already know about 20th-century figures, especially those with which our lives actually overlapped. It takes a skilled author and researcher to bring forth new insights. Diane Arbus and her images were both so simple and yet, as journalist Lubow reveals in his first book, incredibly complex. Listeners follow Arbus (1923–71) from an unusual childhood to a suffocating marriage and then finding her true path as a photographer. Narrator Coleen Marlo has a warm and friendly voice, and her pacing is just right for a work that is packed with information. VERDICT Recommended for public libraries, particularly those with strong readership in modern arts. ["Although the book contains no images (the estate denied access), it does provide the backstory to many of her celebrated photographs, giving readers a special glimpse into how Arbus's photography has become the stuff of legend"; LJ 6/15/16 review of the Ecco: HarperCollins hc.]—Gretchen Pruett, New Braunfels P.L., TX
Library Journal
06/15/2016
Photographs by Diane Arbus (1923–71)of marginalized people or "freaks" in the 1960s and early 1970s revolutionized photography and made her a hugely influential artist. Lubow's massive biography chronicles Arbus's life—from her privileged childhood in New York City to her early marriage to and photography business with Alan Arbus, and finally her development into a passionate and serious photographer. Lubow, who writes for the New York Times and The New Yorker, thoroughly researched and interviewed Arbus's family as well as her most intimate acquaintances from childhood until her suicide at age 48. He confirms the Arbus "mystique" that has continued to grow since her death, including her peculiar personality, her struggle with depression, her progressive sex life, and her fascination with subcultures, such as sideshow performers, midgets, and transvestites, and how she would infiltrate their world. Although the book contains no images (the estate denied access), it does provide the backstory to many of her celebrated photographs, giving readers a special glimpse into how Arbus's photography has become the stuff of legend. VERDICT For anyone interested in the art and personal life of one of the 20th century's most important artists.—Shauna Frischkorn, Millersville Univ., PA
Kirkus Reviews
★ 2016-03-20
Photographer Diane Arbus (1923-1971) was addicted to danger, sex, and human oddities.Arbus left a huge legacy of prints, contact sheets, journals, appointment diaries, unpublished writings, and letters. Unfortunately, her estate does not allow researchers access to this material, nor did they authorize publication of Arbus' photographs for this biography. Nonetheless, Lubow (The Reporter Who Would Be King, 1992), who has served as a contributing writer at the New York Times Magazine and a staff writer at the New Yorker, perceptively describes 164 images, providing information about where readers can find them published. Drawing on a huge number of interviews, related archives, and Arbus' several publications, the author produces a thorough, sympathetic portrait of a complicated woman who, from childhood on, stood out as "totally original." Arbus began her career as a fashion photographer with her husband, Allan Arbus. The couple did advertising work for Arbus' father, who owned a luxury department store, with Allan clicking the shutter and Diane staging the models. Soon, the couple got assignments for Glamour and Vogue, where their work was published alongside that of Irving Penn and Richard Avedon. Diane, though, was bored with fashion photography, and a course with Berenice Abbott inspired her interest in photography as an art. In 1953, with a Vogue press pass to photograph the circus, she became entranced by little people, who, writes the author, "were Diane's introduction to the sideshow freaks whose portraits became her trademark." "I do what gnaws at me," she told her teacher Lisette Model. Those subjects ranged from "unsparing portraits of the rich" to "grim and tawdry" sex scenes. After her marriage ended, Arbus intensified her "compulsive fervor" for promiscuous sex, which likely caused hepatitis. Although a critical success, she doubted her talents; Lubow chronicles the deepening depressions that led to her suicide. Despite limitations on research, Lubow sharply captures Arbus' restlessness, pain, and artistic vision.
