Heroic Portraits

Alberto Korda's Che Guevara

This past Friday I went to the International Center for Photography at 43rd and 6th Ave. There were two exhibits running: The Mexican Suitcase and Cuba in Revolution. Both exhibits showcased the work of photojournalists covering in one case the Spanish Civil War (1936-1939), and in the other, the Cuban Revolution of 1959. I went at the end of the workday before heading home. The museum was packed as it was opening day of the exhibit and the first exhibit since the reopening of the Museum itself. 

The Mexican Suitcase exhibit was made up of 4500 photographs which had been lost for almost 70 years until (their negatives) turned up in Mexico in 2007. The exhibition showed them all, the ones which had been published during the war, as well as the ones which had not been selected for publication - what you could call the out-takes. Out of focus, uninteresting, poorly lit, badly composed - the kind of pictures that a photographer would probably destroy or certainly not let into the light of day. Not that they were all without merit, but the value of these photos was not so much in their artistry as in their completion of a narrative. They showed what the photographers (Capa, Chim and Taro) were doing in the 'in between'. 

The Cuba exhibit was interesting for another set of reasons. There was one wall titled 'Heroic Portraits', the centerpiece of which was Alberto Korda's iconic photograph of Ernesto 'Che' Guevara.

The original picture isn't as well known as its cropped and Warhol-ized versions. Here is the original which includes the partial profile of (presumably) another revolutionary. The top part of Che's jacket subtly suggests a Power Ranger costume. Which is to say that the Power Ranger costume looks a lot like Che's jacket.

Michael Jackson's red 'Thriller' jacket isn't far off either, now that I think about it.

Che's combination of physical beauty, what I would call a 'reflective and virtuous face', and charismatic bearing were irresistible. This was all my impression, however I'd tempered that with the knowledge that all of these photos were posed for. Which was true except for one set.

In a small room, on the last wall of the exhibit, were Che's death pictures. After his execution by firing squad in Bolivia, the Bolivian Military and the CIA were eager to show proof of his elimination. Maybe because of the ridicule inherent in this exercise, or perhaps it was just the way his physicality was set in death, but the result was beatific.These were the photos in which the subject could not compose himself, but somehow did.

Luca Del Baldo's portrait of the dead Che - after the photograph.