Eh. The first third of the book is much stronger than the last two-thirds. Bosworth points out that Arbus was quite secretive about her daily life, and definitely liked to create her art A L O N E, so there is very little to say about, well, her and her art, because... no one really knows about it. Unfortunately, Bosworth tries to focus on the creation of Arbus's art and the development of her artistic life when there just isn't enough information, and the book suffers. Once Arbus separates from her husband, he disappears from the book almost entirely, which seems quite abrupt, considering the intensely close relationship they had, personally and professionally, and they clearly had a relationship up until the end of her life, so his absence feels odd. She lives with her daughters, but neither one--nor her relationship with them, which would be interesting, since Bosworth puts so much emphasis on Arbus's strained family relationships--is really discussed at all, except to mention twice that the younger daughter had "a weight problem", which seemed a bizarre thing to focus on. The last two-thirds of the book just feels like a list of places and people Arbus photographed, and some of her money troubles, which seemed never-ending, but it just feels all surface, to me. (Arbus's estate is almost as tightly controlled as Sylvia Plath's, which means none of her photographs are "allowed" to be reproduced in this biography, either, so Bosworth talks A. LOT. about artwork one has to go to some lengths to look up elsewhere if one wants to know what Bosworth is going on about for pages at a time.) In the end, either Arbus didn't know, or wasn't able to articulate, her self or how her art "worked", or, she wasn't telling, so the book almost makes it seem if Arbus was a kind of accidental artist, and that's kind of sad. Earlier: I'm excited to read this, as I just finished watching "Fur". I was actually disappointed that the filmmakers, even in fantasy, made the development of her artistic self dependent on a MAN as the catalyst and guide. Blerf.
Diane Arbus is so undeniably intriguing and difficult to pin down, that I was able to forgive this biography some of its issues. I liked the honesty of the biographer, Patricia Bosworth, in presenting most information about Arbus' life as sourced from various friends, family members and acquaintances. This allows you to read this narrative as a patchwork of stories from those close to the artist, rather than as god-given 'facts'. The beginning is juicy with information on Arbus' early life, insight into her character and upbringing, hinting at things of importance in her artistic development. It was an easy read more for the content than style. The last third of the book is spread very thin, consisting mostly of Arbus' meeting some well-known media, or art personality of the 1950s-70s, and moving on to the next assignment for whatever magazine. This was a slog to get through, as it focused on cataloguing her professional development, with very little information into her state of mind. This seems a result of a plain lack of information on this period in her life, rather than laziness on the author's part. I wasn't offended by the lack of examples of Arbus' photographs, this is about the artist's life not a photography book. I was, however, bewildered that one of Bosworth's sources had the pseudonym 'Cheech McKensie'. Not sure if that makes this book that much better or worse.
Do You like book Diane Arbus: A Biography (2006)?
Diane Arbus frightens me. Her photographs frighten me (the faces of her subjects seem to stare straight into you), the way she always seemed to give herself away frightens me (her numerous sexual exploits, the confessionals that followed), and her suicide frightens me. I feel angry too. Angry that Allan Arbus left her for another women when she had sacrificed so much for him. I think their separation killed her. I feel angry about a comment at the end of the biography that people were bored with her depression. Depression is boring, and repetitive, and it goes on and on. Why didn't anyone help her? I am in awe of Diane Arbus. I cannot believe she was born the year after my own grandmother who seems from a different time entirely. She was brave to the point of reckless. I sense desperation in her ability to confront these worlds that she was afraid of. As if she is taking ownership of her anxiety, saying "OK if I am going to feel like this anyway I may as well create a reason to be afraid". There is poetry in this act.So I am obviously affected by this biography. I want to climb into the pages and save her. The book also made me think about the authorship of art history, and the nature of fame. How being in the right place at the right time is as much a part of the creation of Arbus as legacy as her intuition and talent. A moment in history that witnessed a cultural shift. In her case documented it.My one criticism of this book was the low quality of the photographs in my edition. And I wonder why Allan and Doon Arbus wouldn't contribute?
—Jakki Newton
Bosworth's biography gets five stars for keeping me occupied during eleven or so hours on a bus chaperoning a school field trip to Washington D.C. The author does a good job of tracing the influence Arbus' early life had on her later career and illuminating some of the likely sources of her fixation on the morbid, the bizarre, the twisted and the forbidden. I have a vague memory of reading somewhere that Bosworth had relied too much on rumor and distorted some aspects of Arbus' life (possibly I read that about Fur, the terrible 'fictional' biography supposedly based in part on this book) but if she did, I didn't see it. She gives her sources (a lot of personal interviews) and identifies when people's recollections are unclear or unsupported. If you're a fan of Arbus' work, Bosworth's biography is a good read.
—William
Irene wrote: "Is this the photographer who took pictures of her children in contreversial poses?"That was Sally Mann, I believe. And it wasn't the poses so much as the lack of clothing, and the artist's style.
—maria
