Jack Pierson (b.1960), an artist working in photography, sculpture, and installation among other mediums, initially executed a series of fifteen color photographs titled Self Portrait as a published monograph in 2003 and subsequent exhibition at the 2004 Whitney Biennial. The images, depicting a range of male figures at various points of age, present a visual conflation of a single lifespan, from young to old—the life of the artist himself as suggested by the title. Peculiarly, none of the figures in these photographs are of Jack Pierson, but rather implied representations of the artist’s expressed identity or perhaps an idealized version of it.
Looking at the series from an aesthetic standpoint, parallels may be drawn to editorial or fashion images made for magazine publications; the modeled lighting (accentuating the rigid or even svelte curves of the male physique), seductive poses, the prominence of bare skin, and other directorial hallmarks suggest a sort of staging or construction of the image. These are not journalistic snapshots or portraits done in the spirit of documentary photography.
© Jack Pierson, Self Portrait #1, 2003
Self-Portrait #1, 2003 may be one of the only photographs to masquerade as a snapshot, or at least one that does not overtly display the visual characteristics of an art-directed image. A young male figure—a child no more than ten years of age, completely nude with blonde tousled hair—finds himself back to the beating sun, surrounded by the harsh barren realm of the natural world. His demure slender frame precariously wields a large crude axe half his body length overhead. All around, stacks of wooden logs form a makeshift wall nearly dwarfing his minuscule stature. His eyes stare intently at the hefty slab of wood laid on the ground before him. The figurative and literal weight of sweat and survival has been laid prematurely on the feeble shoulders of this young child. Surely this burden has not been carried out of his own volition, but as a form of instruction or assignment. Or has it?
Another point of contemplation arises from the surreal portrayal of the open body in an unforgiving environment. Suggested in the out-of-focus plane of the distant background, set against a dusky blue sky, the skeletal branches of a tree sway delicately in the wind; sparse wisps of green foliage cling on to their bones like seaweeds to driftwood. We are not in a lush and bountiful land, but a destitute valley where survival must be arduously wrung from the soil. Straightaway, this child seems ill-equipped to handle the herculean task set before him. The vulnerability of his infantile skin—exposed to the elements of glaring sun, jagged dirt, and flying shards of rogue shrapnel, as well as the ominous threat of the heavy blade breaking on flesh—impregnates the image with an air of tension. The act performed balances on a thin line of disaster, a crystalized moment fraught with inevitable danger.
Despite these peculiarities, Pierson’s photograph may be initially read as a document of a specific time, place, and event: a record. The axe caught in mid-swing (exemplifying photojournalistic concepts of the Decisive Moment), the warm nostalgic colors reminiscent of traditional C-prints found in family albums, even the slight hint of age from an amber color shift at the bottom edge of the frame: these all suggest a non-absolute degree of factual integrity—an inkling of truth. Looking closer and longer, details begin to misalign or contradict one another, dismantling the boundaries of the photograph’s claim to authenticity. Inevitably, the image leads us to confront our own preconceived notions of gender roles and how those roles are constructed, assigned, and reinforced from a young age.
The pitfalls of construction form the crux of Pierson’s critique on a society that fosters and perpetuates an idealization of identity in regard to gender, and how those constructions fall apart from careful viewing and analysis. In each of these photographs, clues are laid in plain sight pointing to the fallacy and facade of the constructed reality at hand. Self-Portrait #1 ultimately falls flat as a plausible scenario considering the inconsistencies of the clean-cut wooden logs in relation to the primal tool being used: the axe. Conceivably, this wall of stacked lumber had been prepared beforehand by a motorized saw or even scouted as a premeditated location. We are looking at an outdoor set—the child, an actor fulfilling a role. The work must also be considered within the context of its printed size and presentation. Measuring 52 ½ x 43 inches, the large pigment print exudes a commanding presence, on par with a majestic canvas, inviting the viewer to get lost in, and subsequently scrutinize, every sumptuous detail of its construction. This is not a small intimate family photograph, but a strategically devised tableau vivant meant to be visually consumed and interpreted on a grand scale.
© Jack Pierson, Self Portrait #28, 2005
Examining two other photographs from this series, Self-Portrait #25 and Self-Portrait #28, we continue to observe the underlying thread of constructed identity, albeit in a less inconspicuous way. In both of these images, the virile male figure, presented front and center as a partially clothed object of seduction and desire, confronts the audience through posture and gaze. The figures, each different in bodily frame (one more defined than the other), present themselves within the setting of a photographer’s studio. Elements which are normally curated out of the frame in highly polished and controlled commercial or fashion photographs are instead left as reminders to the artifice of the image. A soft-box, light stand, reflectors, V-flats, pedestals—all shapers of light and form, are referenced here as symbolic tools of the sculptor. In this case, the sculptor is Pierson himself and the figure before his lens embodies the articulated slab of marble.
Leochares, Belvedere Apollo, Roman copy of 130–140 AD after a Greek bronze original of 330–320 BC
Continuing along with this analogy, the posing of the figures in contrapposto in conjunction with their refined masculine features allude to ancient Greek and Roman sculptures of young males. Bodies and faces fashioned after the physical perfection of the gods reference the collective social consciousness of the idealized male figure. A mixture of frailty, vulnerability, strength, and confidence, these bodies sit atop the pedestal of our longing. Taking into account these historical art references and the manner in which these images touch on the aesthetic hallmarks of consumer photography (glamorization and idolatry), this work may be read not only as a reflection of who the artist desires, but also as the artist’s inner expression of fantasy—to be the object of desire himself.
© Jack Pierson, Self Portrait #25, 2005
Looking closer at Self-Portrait #25, a middle-aged male figure leans confidently against a white pedestal, one arm on the hip, the other supporting his weight. Long waves of dark locks cascade down to meet his shoulders. Shades of coarse stubble blanket his angular jaw. He stands partially nude, sporting only white underwear and an array of deep scars peppering his torso and abdomen—the dashes of raised skin revealing themselves in the calming glow of an angelic light. Standing before us, the figure exudes the monumentality of Michelangelo’s David, yet also calls to mind the poetic violence in Pietro Perugino’s St. Sebastian, c. 1495. In this aforementioned oil on oak, the young saint, his body penetrated fatally by arrows, lies helplessly bound and nude, save for a single garment loosely draped around his genitals. Akin to Pierson’s photograph, we the audience visually ravage and consume his body as an object of seduction and desire.
Michelangelo, David, 1501-1504
Pietro Perugino, St. Sebastian, 1495
As a concluding note to ponder, I refer back to Self-Portrait #1—the young male figure wielding his axe, forever suspending in animation a moment of certain disaster. Later in this constructed timeline, we see the other representation of Pierson’s identity (Self-Portrait #25), manifested now as a chiseled man bearing the scars of that childhood endeavor. The artifacts of manual labor, of callus-forming logs and brutish instruments, have been replaced with the haven of the artist’s studio—a sacred space for the sculpture of ideas, demanding survival of a different sort.