Digital Photo Pro - USA (2019-11)

Every moment

is an opportunity

Nashville

January 19–21, 2020

imagingusa.org

3 days of EVERYTHING photographY

I began to write about what you could
not see in the picture. A caption tells you
what you’re looking at. I tell you what
you can’t see in the photograph.
For example, if I showed you a pic-
ture of my mother and father when they
were in their 60s, and they’re standing
next to each other smiling, and he has
his hand around her shoulder, it doesn’t
tell you anything. It doesn’t tell you he
was an alcoholic. It doesn't tell you he
was a bullshitter. It doesn’t tell you they
hadn’t had sex in 40 years.
In my portrait book, I did a long dis-
cussion about the danger of what a por-
trait really amounts to. I tend to question

photography, not regurgitate it.

How do you come up with ideas?

Things are always popping into my head.

I’m working on a new movie now, and

I’m going to have a fish in it, and I’m try-

ing to figure out how I’m going to make

this work. I’m only engaged in ideas. It’s

all in the doing.

There are two choices in life, doing

and bullshit. Only direct experience

is true knowledge. I’m an empiricist.

Nobody’s gone to Paris until you’ve gone

to Paris. Nobody’s baked a cake until

you’ve baked a cake. It’s like the differ-

ence between reading a hundred love

stories and falling in love. Photographers

are always reading love stories. I’m more

of the “let’s fall in love” variety.

Did René Magritte’s writing on

some of his paintings, such as

“The Treachery of Images” with

the words “ceci n’est pas une

pipe,” have an influence on you?

Not really. I was visually inspired by his

contradiction because he contradicted

you. I did a book on him called, A Visit

with Magritte (Steidl). I spent a week in

Brussels visiting him.

I also have him in a book I did

called ABCDuane (The Monacelli

Press). It’s my ABCs. Under “A,” I

wrote about Atget; under “M,” I wrote

about Magritte.

I did the whole alphabet. The first

time I saw a Magritte painting was in

1960 in Harper’s Bazaar. It was this pho-

tograph of a naked lady with a mirror in

front of her reflected in the mirror.

I thought, “That’s impossible. How

did this photographer do this picture?”

I finally realized it wasn't a photograph.

Because he painted so realistically, I

loved it because he contradicted.

By principle, photographers tell you

what you already know. I know what

a car looks like. I know what snow

looks like.

Show me what I don’t know, just don’t

regurgitate the facts. DPP

For more on Duane Michals, visit

duanemichals.tumblr.com.