Vivian Maier Redux

This is not the post I intended to write this morning, but I was caught by the Lens feature on Vivian Maier in the New York Times online.  Today, the first American exhibit of her work opens at the Chicago Cultural Center.  I won't be there for the reception tonight, of course, but I might treat myself to a trip Chicago. I haven't been for years and never in winter.  I don't know if I could stand it, really, but it might be fun to go.  And I would love to take a look at the show.

Those of you who have been coming here for awhile will remember that I posted some of her work the moment I saw it some years ago, and since then her blog has been on my links page.  I wrote to John Maloof, the man who unfolded this wonderful story after he bought some boxes of her negatives at an antique sale for $400.  I told him then that everything would happen, that this was one of the new century's major discoveries, but by that time, I'm sure he already knew.  We've exchanged a few emails over the years.  Now I wish I would have volunteered to help him with the project.  Truly, though, I didn't realize how much there was for him to do.  By now he must have people beating down his door to "help" him.  He can't be as needy as he might have been.  Click here to view a nice ten minute video about it all.

The Times piece doesn't seem to want to recognize the full stature of Maier's work, suggesting that she might be a "minor master" of the mid-20th century.  I can't understand this "understatement" about the value of her work at all.  But as Robert Frost once said, everything must come to market, and there it will be valued.  As one who is often enough ten seconds ahead of the bubble, I'd bet on "major" rather than minor.

The story of Vivian Maier and John Maloof and how this all came to pass itself has the making of a masterpiece.  Maloof is involved in making a documentary about her and is soliciting funds.  I think he deserves the chance and will send a contribution though I fear the worst.  I'd rather see this project in the hands of someone like Ken Burns, of course, or Martin Scorcese, but that won't happen yet.  Even more, I'd like to see a major museum make Maloof an offer he can't refuse and take over the project.  Watching him handle the film and spend time scanning the negatives on an Epson kills me.

I think about Maier taking all those photographs and never showing them to anyone.  Why did she do it?  For the most perfect of reasons, I hope.  Making posthumous photographs.  My hero.