*ooof*: Behind the Scenes

Finally I am taking the opportunity to indulge in a truly favourite shot of mine, the ‘Armani’ image from Blair Getz Mezibov’s formal wear shoot for Esquire UK. Well, yes, I know… That’s coming immediately on the heels of last week’s Deep Space Nine Mezibov and has a similar feel to it. Where’s the variety? Well, unless Armitage graces us with a cool shoot again, soon, I’ll have to work my way through the back catalogue. Seriously, I am looking at antique stuff here from 2004 in order to get some variety in…

Mr Richard Armitage, ladies and gentlemen.
Photographed by Blair Getz Mezibov for Esquire UK, 2013
Scan via Richard Armitage Central

So, this is my favourite shot by Mezibov. Not the rakish profile, not the classy b/w symmetry, and not the grumpy desolation of Thorin. I love this despite it not being a close-up which would allow intimate perusal of Mr A’s attractive facial features or despite him not posing in a pleasing standing pose – but slouching in a chair. I am told I cannot just say “I love this because because” ;-). I have to back my opinion with reasons to make it stand up. Well, here goes: this is photography as it should be – not outwardly beautiful and glossing over everything with superficial aesthetics, but something that appears flawed and only discloses its visual attractiveness upon closer inspection. It’s a bit like an old cheese – might be a bit mouldy and smelly on first encounter. But boy, when you get your teeth into it, it tastes divine. Or so I am told. Trivia of the day: I don’t even *like* cheese!!!

Mind you, I loved this the minute I laid eyes on it. Much like Armitage, actually. But not because this is an Armitage picture which *per se*  is *always* to be loved. But because I love the deliberate but slightly subtle rule-breaking that goes on in this image. Dressed in a black tux, white shirt and bow tie, Mr A is pictured slouching in a simple bentwood chair (reminiscent of the Thonet classic) in a room with wood-panelled walls and parquet flooring. Behind him appears to be a closed double door. To his right is a pile of untidily stacked bentwood chairs. The image has been shot from above the sitter’s head height, we are slightly looking down on him. The only light source appears to be incidental light from his right – windows to the room? The main elements of the image are a) the wood colour from the background and b) the dark wood chairs and c) the isolated sitter.

In an age of glossy aestheticism, where everything is photoshopped to the max and beauty reigns supreme, this image breaks the rules. For starters it breaks the rule of showing the subject in a flattering pose. This is definitely unflattering – a man sprawling with his legs wide open in a simple chair. We see big feet, thin legs, a folded up frame, a grumpy face. Are we supposed to buy this man’s suave poise and smoothness? Well, there is no poise or smooth. Rule two falls by the wayside, too – if we want to emphasise the beauty of a sitter, we place them in beautiful settings that enhance the classy elegance of them. Fail. We are in what appears to be an unused room, indicated by the untidy pile of chairs. Is this a backroom? An untidy storage room? It is, in any case, not the sort of environment that we would expect an expensive tuxedo to turn up in. – Within the whole composition other visual elements strongly clamour for the viewers’ attention. The piled-up chairs are hard to overlook – and thus rule number 3 has been broken, which would stipulate that the composition ought to focus on the human who is displaying the advertised goods in the shot. And lastly, even some of the details in the shot do not really follow the rules of aesthetic fashion photography: The lines of the panelling are not aligned with the orientation of the frame. They are slightly off; the angle of shooting was not straight on. A minor detail which however could detract from the overall beauty of the shot.

All of this together has an unsettling effect. We are wondering how this could be used as a fashion shot in a classy magazine, advertising expensive clothes and picturing a handsome gentleman. This is not a smooth picture as we would expect from an evening wear shoot. We do not find the calming symmetry of the stairwell shot or the dead-pan doorway image that alleviated our senses with guiding lines, focus points and streamlined male beauty. Instead we are given many details that grate with our usual expectation of aesthetic representation in the realm of fashion photography or even staged celebrity photography. We are challenged. We need to look again.

And suddenly we see that there is in fact a vague symmetry in the shot – between the arrangement of the piled-up chairs and the shape of the sitter, for instance. Note how the sitter has been placed with his body towards the chairs and not the other way around. Had Mezibov framed the shot a little bit closer and straight-on, the symmetry would have been obvious. The thing to do would have been to frame only as far as the regularly stacked chairs go, leaving the more untidy mess of the higher pile out. Both upturned chair legs and the sitter’s head would have roughly been at the same height, and the shape of the chair and human arrangement would have mirrored each other. But the photographer hasn’t composed his image that way, because that would be expected and boring. Instead he decided to include more of the untidy tumble of chairs to the left.

The effect is that this image looks more incidental – and thus more real. The location looks haphazard and untouched, although we have no way of knowing whether it was Mezibov himself who arranged the chairs in an idyllically chaotic pile. Assuming he found the scene just as it is pictured here, Mezibov composes his image in such a way that he is creating a sense of tension between the formally dressed subject and some rather informally tossed chairs. It is these kinds of contrasts and juxtapositions that photographers love. And oh, Richard does detachment so elegantly…

I am aware that this is an unpopular image within the ranks of Armitage’s well-wishers. Probably for all of the reasons mentioned above. But an image is more than the sum of its visual components, or its denotations. It comes down to the individual connotations found within an image – they make it hard to explain why one likes one image over another. While I perceived the vague symmetry between the seated arrangement of the sitter and the pile of chairs at first glance, I could’ve easily been put off by the slightly off angle of shooting because I am a sucker for straight-on, dead-pan shots. I probably honed in on the subject, though, and was touched by something. Maybe it was that this image looks almost as if Armitage was shot without him knowing or realizing he was being photographed (the “incidental-ness” of the image). This could have been a pause in the shoot where RA has turned away and sat down to relax between takes. A moment of unobserved reflection, of getting away from it all. An opportunity to relax the  muscles, fall into a chair and to breathe and renew energy for the rest of the shoot. A moment, however, that is not serene and entirely relaxed because the sitter’s frown and hands are giving away the  tension. He is holding on to the front of his jacket, closing or opening it. Or is he picking his cuticles, in which case this could be RLRA concentrating inwards unless there is some fascinating action going on bottom right. I may have possibly been experiencing a feeling of protectiveness towards the sitter. There is something vulnerable in the open-legged pose, the unrestricted access to the genitals – not in a sexual way – but implying loneliness, abandonment and isolation, emphasised by the fragility of the exposed ankles and the whole lower body in proportion to the bulk of the torso. It makes me want to reach out and ask if he is alright, making sure he is comfortable, making him lose the frown and making him smile instead. “Are you hiding yourself away behind the scenes? Why are you in the backroom, Richard?” It makes me want to *react* and therefore drags me from passive consumption into action.

Mind you – *all* images of Armitage do that to me. I just can’t get enough of them.

In the end it was one of the servants in Rivendell House who took pity on him. He had been standing by the door for most of the meal, hist stomach growling and his mood with it, observing the rest of his company being wined and dined by Lord Elrond. He could not sit down again without losing face, so he had sulked by the door, occasionally throwing a glance at the table. He wasn’t missing much, apart from the food. And even that had looked far too Vegetarian for his carnivorous taste.

But his stomach had protested with loud rumbles, and with the conversation at the table strained, dried-up and died-down to the occasional monosyllabic comment after his abrupt exit, a passing servant had heard the slurping rumbles from his belly. Humiliating. Unmajestic. The next time the man returned from the kitchen, he had discreetly lingered outside the doorway, whispering to Thorin “I have left a plate with hors d’oeuvres in the room right here behind you. If you feel peckish…” Thorin did not like the kindness of strangers, especially when they were domestic servants. It made him feel obliged and he did not like that.

He was about to dismiss the man with a condescending swat of his hand, when the door to the dining room opened and a latecomer emerged. “Oh no”, Thorin moaned through clenched teeth. “The Minister of Enterprise. Elrond is pulling out all the stops. He obviously wants to put the pressure on”. Before Sir Reginald Gandalf, the eminence grise of industrial relations, could spot him, Thorin turned in one swift move and slipped through the doorway behind. “Listen…”, he caught the servant by his sleeve as he was scurrying back to the kitchen, “what’s your name, man?” “I am William Beaumont?”, the servant answered with a frown. “Well, ‘Bill Bo’,” Thorin sarcastically shortened the name of the man, “I may make use of this room yet. Can you organise me an ashtray, I feel like a sneaky fag.” Bill Bo nodded and hurried off.

Thorin turned fully into the room and arched his eyebrows. A stack of chairs was piled in the corner of the room. “Not all that grand and glamourous behind the scenes, eh, Elrond? This kind of shoddy untidyness would not go down in Erebor”, he thought to himself. Fishing a silver cigarette case from his trouser pocket, Thorin pulled one of the bentwood chairs from the pile and sat down with a grunt, resting against the back and spreading his legs in an effort to find a comfortable position. He lit up one of his small cigars and inhaled deeply in an attempt to subdue the rage that was slowly building in his stomach. As he was leaning over the armrest to stub the ashes off his cigar in the ashtray that had appeared from thin air (“That Bill Bo has a way of moving soundlessly…”), he suddenly heard the lowered voices of two men, talking on the other side of the doorway. The upper-class twang of his host…

“Have you forgotten a strain of madness is running deep in that family? His grandfather has lost his mind over his gambling habit, his father succumbed to the same greed. Can you swear, Thorin Oakenshield can not also fall?” Thorin’s hands tightened on the lapel of his jacket with the effort of restraining himself. He caught the eye of Bill Bo who had crept back into the room with the stealth of a Hobbit. He had to get out of here…

~ by Guylty on January 28, 2014.