Vivian Maier

This morning, the Minx and I decided to go for a walk. This is not something we do habitually but perhaps the recent sunshine or maybe even the couple of evenings of mild debauchery that we’ve just enjoyed compelled us to head out for a stroll down by the canal.

On the way out of town, we passed this building, an old laundry. I find myself more and more intrigued by these old buildings, slowly atrophying and submitting to nature. For example, the birds sat on the lighting rail, that the Minx pointed out to me. Sights like this always put me in mind of Talking Heads’ ‘(Nothing but) Flowers’.

In the afternoon, though, we reverted more to type: a very late breakfast at the Cornerhouse followed by ‘Finding Vivian Maier’. If you haven’t heard of her, here is her Wikipedia entry and here are some of her pictures.

The documentary was lovely. It started in a whimsical way, recreating John Maloof’s purchase of the negatives at auction and then tracking down some of the people who knew the late Miss Maier. The film was well shot, nicely paced and, just as it seemed it might be a little too tame – even for a Sunday afternoon – it made a deft twist, revealing a darker side to the photographer.

It became clear that she was a little damaged although assessing the extent to which she was upset seems unwise on the basis of a handful of edited anecdotes and without any kind of psychiatric qualification. One interviewee, who had Maier as a nanny, said that she had been force fed. If true, it’s a form of abuse, I think.

Which, rightly or wrongly, put me in mind of Rolf Harris. Sure, the abuse was not sexual but does that make a difference? I don’t know. One thing makes a difference for sure, though: Maier was a private person, wrestling with her own demons, which appear to have arisen from her family. Indeed, her own hurt may have contributed to the sensitivity of her art. And she never pretended to be anything other than herself (however she saw herself at any given time).

That contrasts with Harris who portrayed himself as something other than he was (and he knew himself to be). He not only joked with his (older) victims, having molested them in public situations, he made a video to warn children against molesters. Like Saville, he was not a man who wrestled with his demons: he accepted them and, to a degree, celebrated them.

So, despite those shadows and, perhaps, more because of them, I'm happy to enjoy Maier's work. Not so you Rolf, you shit.