It is not really a book, but an art object: accordion folded and neatly ensconced in a box, its heavy cardboard structure makes it a durable thing, one that transcends the notion of a mere "book." It is an object of intrinsic beauty and the mere holding of it in one's hands conveys the good taste, fine quality, and the superb craftmanship that were blended to create PORTRAITS.
One side of the fold contains text -with some pictures- and the other the portfolio of portraits. Maria Hambourg and Mia Fineman collaborate in the essay "Avedon's Endgame," which presents, analyzes and brings into focus the extraordinary talent behind the portraits; and Richard Avedon gives us a touching essay called "Borrowed Dogs," in which he addresses some of his unquiet talents. The other side is one's private gallery of 27 pictures (including the covers) to be savored at home, each image a meticulous print. In all it is an extraordinary performance by those involved, and a jewel to possess.
Avedon has pushed the borders of his art far beyond picture taking: a master psychologist, his portraits are potent statements about the soul and the fears and the anger and the dilapidation and the triumph and the humanity of his subjects. His pictures are so intense and revealing that the viewer cannot remain neutral. The diptych of Clarence Lippard, a drifter, makes one see more than we have any right to ask for: because if we must view the horror of a wasted life on one panel we must also accept the defiant triumphalism and humor that the second panel conveys. Waste no pity on Mr. Lippard, he asks no such thing from you.
I shall often return to this jewel for solace; and for a jolt about the meaning of being alive and a human being.