Under the Icons

Migrant Madonna (Dorothea Lange, 1936)

It all started with a conversation with someone much younger than me (and face it, most people are). She showed me a photo she loved, a sweet image that reminded me of Dorothea Lange’s Migrant Madonna. When I pointed that out, she admitted never having heard of her before, but then immediately recognized the famous photograph when I showed it to her with a quick Google search. And this gave me pause to reflect. Iconic images may resonate onward through the generations, but the people who made them? Not so much. I’m a little saddened by that.

Truth is, I can only think of three photographs that can claim true iconic status in the American canon: the Migrant Madonna, most certainly; Raising the Flag on Iwo Jima by Joe Rosenthal, and Earthrise, taken from the Apollo 8 capsule on its way to the moon. You may have one or two on your own list, too (I sometimes think of Ansel Adam’s Moonrise photo as iconic, but probably just among us photographers). But these three posses an undeniable universality.

Raising The Flag On Iwo Jima (Joe Rosenthal, 1945)

I can’t help but think that when a photograph achieves this level of iconic status, the emotional punch — and the photographer’s own story — gets lost somewhere along the line. It’s the iconography of a commemorative postage stamp, perhaps, or an inspirational meme, but not human triumph and tragedy, and that’s what those photographers saw and shared with us.

Earthrise (William Anders on the Apollo 8 mission, 1968)

Well I suppose in the long scheme of things, it doesn’t really matter. Any photograph you look upon is a rorschach, and if you pay it any attention you’ll bring to it your own experiences and biases, your likes and dislikes, and read into it what you will. Plus, the events these represent — the Great Depression, WWII, the race to the moon — are so far removed from us today that the men and women who took them have just naturally faded into the background.

And that’s alright with me. None of us in the creative arts can reliably expect not to fade away, ourselves. As for me, I haven’t photographed anything more culturally significant or artistically revolutionary than the contours of my own (admittedly off-kilter) mind. No earth-risings, no flag-raisings; just quiet moments with me and my camera. And maybe that’s all those photographers expected, too.

It’s just that the world happened to get in their way.