Robert Mapplethorpe: The Precision of Beauty

 Robert Mapplethorpe’s photography shows us that beauty is not always something soft, and its form is not always something innocent. Mapplethorpe is often credited for his black-and-white portraits and still life images. When looking at these images, we can see that his lens was deliberate, his framing was almost mathematical. It didn’t matter if it was photographing a calla lily or a famous artist such as Andy Warhol, he was able to elevate the subject through different means, such as composition and contrast.

Robert Mapplethorpe, Calla Lily, 1986. Gelatin silver print, image: 19 1/4 x 19 5/16 inches (48.9 x 49.1 cm); sheet: 25 15/16 x 20 1/16 inches (65.9 x 51 cm)

Something that stands out to me about Mapplethorpe is the exactness of his work. For example, his portraits, which are often of different artists, dancers, and lovers, are a measured exactness of the human form. There is an intensity in how he is isolating this human form, in every curl of muscle, shadow, or line is treated as an intentional geometry. It’s almost like he is using a camera the same way Michelangelo used a chisel to carve the Statue of David, however, instead of chiseling marble, he is chiseling light and shadows.

Robert Mapplethorpe, Thomas, 1987. Gelatin silver print, image: 19 1/4 x 19 3/16 inches (48.9 x 48.7 cm); sheet: 23 3/4 x 19 13/16 inches (60.3 x 50.3 cm)

 

While many photographers aim for a moment of spontaneity, Mapplethorpe is the master of control. For instance, his still life is often perfectly centered, lit perfectly with the same attention a historical object might have. This transforms a singular tulip, bent and backlit, into a figure of desire. An orchid, with its petals flared out in a symmetrical pattern, might read like an anatomical study. He isn’t just photographing flowers; he is making them confront the viewer.

A dense stem of white flowers with three black and grey geometric shapes framing it in the background.

 

For me, Mapplethorpe teaches a lesson in tension. Tension between softness and sharpness, chaos and order, public presentation and private desire. There is something very compelling about how Mapplethorpe approaches the human body, or how he approaches a flower as a system of lines, of balances, of masses. His work appeals to the engineer in me, but it also challenges the part of me that craves the emotional rawness.

Going forward, I want to borrow some of that tension for my own photographs. I want to think about how symmetry can become more than just balance, and how it can instead create anticipation. I want to be able to play with contrast, not just in light, but contrast in the theme as well. 

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