If There's a Word for This, Tell Me

Photographer and model, Lee Miller sits casually on the edge of a bed, her posture relaxed, her presence honest. The location is unknown; a studio, her home. There are three photographs, and in each one she is facing the same direction, lit by a single source of light that casts a glow across her body. The time of day feels like evening, but it could be after midnight. Behind her, an abstract figurative tapestry hangs on the wall. She sits atop a white blanket that appears soft and inviting. Her expression is neutral and carries a sense of solitude, composure, and authority. At the time the photograph I’m referencing was made, as well as the others included, both the photographer, Man Ray, and the subject were already well known. That legacy hides beneath the surface of each square, black-and-white photograph.

Man Ray is celebrated for his surrealist and abstract photographs. He took a medium that many once dismissed as mechanical and transformed it into an art form through experimentation. His influence on photography is undeniable, with countless iconic images bearing his name. But not these three. These photographs are different. They aren’t abstract. They aren’t experiments. They haven’t been solarized, distorted, or manipulated in a darkroom. They are, instead, direct, honest, elegant, and quietly powerful. They are simply timeless portraits of an undeniably beautiful person, captured with awe.

This isn’t about Lee Miller or Man Ray. It’s about the power of subtle beauty. There are moments, when I’m photographing someone, that I pause and think about how long we, as humans, have marveled at one another. Imagine it: how often did Caravaggio fall into admiration of the figure before him? How many times did Rodin, transfixed by the nude form, find himself obsessed with a model (Camille Claudel for example)? Generation after generation, artist after artist, there has been an obsession with the elegance, shape, mystery, and inspiring power of human form.

Perhaps Man Ray intended to create artistic photos in this particular moment. It could have been a rainy, cold Paris night when he visited Lee in her home—both bored, both desiring to create. Most likely, they were lovers at this time. There is an air of understanding between the photographer and the model that hints at sex. More so, though, I like to believe Lee sat down on the bed in a normal, human way, and Man Ray was flabbergasted—struck with a moment of simple adoration of her beauty. And instead of trying to create something unique and abstract, he made something that has stood the test of time. Something honest and real. Something still. Something that all artists have loved since we, as humans, began to make art.

If there's a word for this, tell me.

---