Multitudes
Of a bastard line.
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I did a search on breathtaking Turbeville, and who's name of course came up as the thread starter, Estella ! ... It's magic ! ...
Deborah Turbeville is a renowned master of fashion photography whose career shows a successful combination of artistic and commercial photography. Her works appear regularly in Vogue, Mirabella, Zoom, Harper’s Bazaar, Mademoiselle, her clients include Nike, Oscar de la Renta, Ralph Lauren, Ungaro, Valentino, Vera Wang. Her personal exhibitions have been shown in Centre Pompidou in Paris, Sonnabend Gallery (New-York), various spaces in Rome, Mexico, Tokyo, and in the Russian Museum, in 1997. Once a student of Avedon, Turbeville was then among those who founded the International Centre for Photography in New York. In 2005 she was presented with the ICP Infinity Award for Applied Photography, and by that time several books of her photography had been already issued. Deborah regularly teaches photography, both in and outside the U.S. Her cooperation with the Centre of Photography in St. Petersburg began several years ago, during one of her first visits in Russia. In 2002, Deborah conducted a workshop for Baltic Photography School (division of the NCP) which resulted in an exhibition entitled ‘Strange City’, in Rumyantsev mansion.
The exhibition in the Centre of Photography is in a way a retrospective of the material accumulated by the author during her visits to our country over several years. Black-and-white and color, large and small formats, collages – Turbeville made the selection very carefully, searching for works that looked to her most expressive of the character of Russia. In fact, Russia to her is primarily St. Petersburg. And the choice is conscious: having been initially introduced to Russia through works and memoirs of Dostoevsky, Mandelshtam, Akhmatova, Dyagilev, Brodsky, through creations of famous Russian choreographers and composers, Turbeville perceives St.Petersburg with its tragic faith as the personification of what she calls ‘Russian time’. This notion, undefinable and elusive, is concerned rather with memories and echoes of the past, with premonition and determinancy of the future than with the present, and is inseparable from sadness. Georgy Golenki, art critic, expressed this very well: “Turbeville has managed to convey this very delicate, intangible and very St.-Petersburg effect, this weight of hidden sadness upon lives of people and things, the sadness starting in the past and extending into the future” (Camera Obscura, Issue 4, 1998). Deborah doesn’t try to make reportage and doesn’t aim to capture the ‘decisive moment’; she works mainly with staged photography, conducting a very careful, precise, and intuitive search for what could express the essence of St. Petersburg and the ‘Russian soul’ – a search that is dated in hundreds of years. In Turbeville’s photographs, models, dancers, common people, together with architecture or interiors of half-ruined palaces surrounding them, become characters of a time existing beyond present and of this narration appealing to emotion rather than sense.
Heard An Idol Tonight At ICP
Jan 27 2010
I started out wanting to become a photographer. There were not many women doing it when I was a teen, but — to my profound delight — two of the legends from those days are still working and talking to the rest of us through the International Center of Photography, whose midtown Manhattan campus offers classes, workshops, degree programs and a lecture series by famous and less-famous photographers that kicked off this evening.
The first guest was Deborah Turbeville, whose photos really look like no one else’s, tough to do in an image-saturated world. With no photography training, she fell into the world of New York fashion as a model for the legendary sportswear designer Claire McCardell, went on to become an editor at Harper’s Bazaar and began shooting her own work. She created, and cherishes, photos filled with decay, ruin and imperfection — placing exquisite models and couture clothing in enormous old high-ceilinged rooms filled only with natural light or cracked mirrors.
She added lint and dust to her black and white prints, giving them the appearance of photos found in a flea-market tin or someone’s battered turn-of-the-century scrapbook.
The work is not, as it may sound, precious or pretentious or artificial, although it’s very much her creation and vision driving it all. Tonight she regaled the room of about 100 people, (a notably artsy crowd in which almost every single person wore black, gray or brown) with great stories behind some of the work — the Albertini twins and Monsieur Lemoine and the hunchback Jean who all kept trying to oversee her work while she was shooting a book at Versailles for, as she put it coyly “a very famous American woman”, whom I’m guessing was Jackie Onassis, for a while a Manhattan book editor.
“Monkeys were involved, parrots were involved. I’d go out into the street and pick people I thought would look right then dress them up,” she said. The Versailles images include women lying on the floor in huge dresses, a pile of dead autumn leaves a second skirt. “We just invented the whole book as we went along. I went around just snapping away.”
Filled with strong opinions, but funny and self-deprecating, she said she hates it– “I hate, hate, hate it!” — when someone comes to her studio, chooses an image and says: “This is the best one. There is no best one!” She returns often to shoot in Russia and in weathered old Eastern European cities like Cracow and Budapest. “I love construction sites, things that are broken. It’s my vocabulary.”
Few women could so easily, and un-annoyingly, drop names like Mr. Liberman, (Conde Nast’s famed editorial director from 1962 to 1994) or have so avidly pursued an image — that she had to re-shoot — of the exquisite soft black leather pumps worn by the equally legendary Vogue editor Diana Vreeland. (Her autobiography, D.V. is a great read, beginning with the words, “I loathe nostalgia.”)
Turbeville is still shooting actively, most often for all the iterations of Italian Vogue, she said, mostly because they leave her alone; she told several stories of deeply annoyed clients who’d hired her to showcase their products, only to find them hidden, shadowed or disguised, as she did on a shoot for Calvin Klein shoes.
A show of her work opens next week in Manhattan at the Staley-Wise Gallery.