Robert Mapplethorpe has long been a contentious figure in the art world, with much of this debate focusing on whether or not his erotic/homoerotic photographs trespass the boundaries of pornography. Only recently his work was subjected to censorial gagging when a large retrospective of his work was shown in London. This is a matter which becomes especially prejudiced by the fact that they often deal with the difficult subject of gay Sadomasochism. However, in the case of the London show his portraits of gay men were deemed acceptable, whereas his images of young children were considered to be far more dangerous. The scandals aside, much of his other work deals with more innocuous subjects like portraiture and floral studies. Whatever his subject matter, though, his photographs constantly sought to elicit, and so control the beauty present in all that he observed, whether it Richard Gere or a lily.
Patrica
Morrisroe’s book manages to trace a
well-balanced path through Mapplethorpe’s career
from suburban student to New York star, often pausing
to illuminate pertinent links between his life and
art. For example, Mapplethorpe’s personal
calculating manner is presented as an obvious impetus
for his highly controlled, almost classical style. By
not shying away from Mapplethorpe’s more
‘darker’ pursuits, she generates a more
exacting image of this frequently disturbing artist.
She renders Mapplethorpe with a shocking honesty, and
as result he is frequently portrayed as being cold
and detached - if Morrisroe is to be believed his
attitude towards unprotected sex after being infected
with AIDS is nothing short of chilling. Mapplethorpe
is shown to be a man obsessed by money and fame, and
as a result pursued both remorselessly throughout his
brief life, using anyone he could to achieve his
aims. Paradoxically, though, his objectionable traits
were balanced by a charisma that constantly drew
people towards him. By examining this milieu,
Morrisroe has also explored the intimate details of
his long-term relationships both with singer/poet
Patti Smith and collector Sam Wagstaff alike.
Morrisroe has achieved a work of outstanding clarity.
She provides not only an exhaustive, yet riveting,
examination of a major artist's life, but also
manages to demythologise her subject along the way by
careful avoidance of the usual clichés. Morrisroe
presents Mapplethorpe - photographer or artist,
pornographer or celebrity - stripped of his mask, his
troubling face available for all to view in the harsh
light of history. The only evident limitations to the
overall success this biography are Morrisroe’s
occasional clumsy handling of academic material, and
a few stumbling conclusions. This book could also
have been improved with less of today’s almost
obligatory snaps of the artist as a baby, and more
extensive examples of his work. However, the
carefully controlled pathos of Mapplethorpe’s
decline into AIDS easily out-weighs a few off
comments.
Accessible yet engaging, this epitaph to a truly
intriguing man is going to be hard to surpass.
A shorter version of this review appeared in Spike
