I've thought a lot over the years about why certain things seem "reasonable" to humans, musing on some of the possible reasons why. War, for instance, seems not only sensible but inevitable, whereas it has always seemed outlandish and appalling to me, the furthest thing from "reasonable." My small consolation is that, in early modern Europe especially, duelling seemed as utterly unavoidable as war seems to us still; and at various times and places the carnage was very considerable. It may return, but society has for the moment at least learned to dispense with duelling, for the most part. I'm sure such a development would have seemed impossible—incredible—to any conventional upper class nobleman in 17th-century France. My belief—all right, my hope—is that someday the same fate will befall the custom and convention of human warfare.
Just yesterday we touched on this—this idea of seeming "reasonableness." It simply doesn't seem reasonable to some people that a train can sneak up on you when you're on the tracks. Too much evidence suggests otherwise. "Counterintuitive," we call that. A phrase I've always thought shortchanges real intuition. So much of human activity is determined by such superficial assumptions.
The reason I introduce the topic this way is that it seems intuitively reasonable to some of us that fame, success and money would necessarily supply whatever is wanting in our psyches or salve whatever pain is in our souls, and arm us well in our personal struggles; the evidence doesn't support that either, at all, but somehow we keep being surprised that it isn't so.
I mourn the loss of the great actor Philip Seymour Hoffman. Demotic culture at the moment revolves in large part around "celebrities," many of whom act in order to undergird their notoriety, but real actors are still relatively rare and of course geniuses of the craft rare always. He was an extraordinary actor, fearless. Hoffman at 46 had a number of great performances to his credit and many great performances still to give, and his death is a deep loss to culture and art. His death is as senseless and tragic as that of a young person cut down in traffic. His body of work has been brought to a skidding halt.
Take a contemplative look at one of the most extraordinary photographs I've seen in a long time. Just a few weeks ago, many actors and actresses posed for tintype (wet collodion) portraits at The Collective and Gibson Lounge, "Powered by CEG" whatever that means, during the 2014 Sundance Film Festival in Park City, Utah. The photograph of Hoffman is in the middle of the second to last row at this link, and the context is interesting. It's credited to Victoria Will. The picture cuts to the resignation of a human being overwhelmed by addiction, such that it's almost more a portrait of that than it is a portrait of the person. I interpret it as the look of someone who thought he had won his fight against the wolf of addiction but who suddenly finds himself right back in the battle again, as deeply as ever. That's just supposition, supplied by my imagination and a few cues from news stories. But his struggle is right there before our eyes—right there in his eyes. Celebrity and success utterly impotent as defensive weapons against the great weight of that despair.
As great a "psychological portrait" as I've ever seen, but one I very much wish we didn't have.
Mike
(Thanks to Arthur Elkon and Gordon Lewis)
Original contents copyright 2014 by Michael C. Johnston and/or the bylined author. All Rights Reserved. Links in this post may be to our affiliates; sales through affiliate links may benefit this site.
(To see all the comments, click on the "Comments" link below.)
Featured Comments from:
CharlieH (partial comment): "Or he was just acting. I say that because most of the actors who sat seem to express a similar melancholy. Its much harder to smile for the camera then to look mean or stoic, or just sad."
Steve Ducharme: "I've spent far more time around addicted people than any reasonable human being ever should and that haunted look is not unfamiliar to me. You are not reading too much into the photograph. In fact the process is almost like a filter exposing the anguish and resignation within. Sad and moving."
Paul De Zan: "Philip Seymour Hoffman's death is highly instructive. He wasn't a publicity-seeking diva. He did not flaunt his wealth. He did not do 'bling.' He worked very hard. He had kids he loved. His addiction did not play out in the tabloid media. He didn't experience a long, sad decline. And the drugs killed him anyway. He probably had no more idea he would end up dead with a needle in his arm than a person shot at random by a mad sniper. No idea at all. Bloody hell."
Discussing this on Stephanie Miller today they made the comment: "Actors live in NYC, celebrities live in LA."
They also mentioned that he had been clean for 20 years.
Posted by: KeithB | Tuesday, 04 February 2014 at 01:08 PM
Hoffman was a brilliant actor - no doubt about it. And I share your hope for an end to war but it will only come through public pressure. Look how public sentiment forced Obama to stay his hand on Syria. Power to the people!
Posted by: Bruce | Tuesday, 04 February 2014 at 01:48 PM
Curiously, dueling only became a matter of "honour" for the settling of disputes between individuals - mostly nobles (more or less) in the late middle ages. In earlier times, it was more usually the sentence of a court that could not or would not make up its mind. The rationale was that this "solution" would let God sort it out, thus guaranteeing a just outcome.
Posted by: John | Tuesday, 04 February 2014 at 02:47 PM
I know first hand money cannot buy happiness. I walked away from a life of excess and have not looked back once! I do mourn the loss of Hoffman. What talent he had, but it obviously could not help him cope with living with himself. So sad.
Posted by: darr | Tuesday, 04 February 2014 at 02:51 PM
This is why I come bak to TOP six times a day. Mike, your logic and writing changes the way I view the world. I love it when you tie together current events with long running TOP themes. Thanks.
Posted by: Dave | Tuesday, 04 February 2014 at 03:02 PM
I have always enjoyed your website and its articles, reviews and musings on photography. However, this is one of the most insightful and moving pieces I have come across on any website and I thank you for it. It says as much about the guy who wrote it as it does about the incredibly gifted actor he writes about.
Posted by: Ron Pordy | Tuesday, 04 February 2014 at 03:19 PM
I can't say that I agree with everything you post but this one is wonderful.
Philip Seymour Hoffman, may he rest in peace.
Posted by: Omer | Tuesday, 04 February 2014 at 03:19 PM
Sometimes, despite all the wise admonitions as to what photography can't possibly do- it goes and does it anyway...
Posted by: Stan B. | Tuesday, 04 February 2014 at 03:31 PM
Or he was just acting. I say that because most of the actors who sat seem to express a similar melancholy. Its much harder to smile for the camera then to look mean or stoic, or just sad. Look at Michael C. Hall, he looks like he is on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Is it live, or is it memorex? Who knows. An aery photograph nonetheless given the circumstances. Everyone imagines celebrities having a fantastic life, but I think a great many are simply lonely. The real victims here are this poor man's children though. And they never even got the chance to know him.
Posted by: CharlieH | Tuesday, 04 February 2014 at 03:45 PM
Thanks for providing the richest insight into this event of any news source I've yet read. Contrary to your opinion, I do come to T.O.P. for current news and camera reviews!
Posted by: Jeff Hohner | Tuesday, 04 February 2014 at 04:37 PM
While it is sad and tragic about Hoffman, this wet plate is among the worst I have ever seen. So many flaws, it's hard to know where to start. Look at some *good* wet-plate images to get a feel for how amateur and poorly done this one is. Even some of the others in this gallery are far better by comparison (but those pale compared to real masters of the art). It's too bad it isn't a better wetplate photo. It would be great if one of his last photos was a really well done wetplate image. And, you are likely reading a bit too much into the portrait. Given the exposure times of wetplate, most people can't hold a smile even if they wanted to.
Posted by: Ed | Tuesday, 04 February 2014 at 05:00 PM
His portrait is somewhat eerie. You keep looking back into those eyes time and again at they invite you to peer through the windows of his very soul. A picture in monochrome often tells more about a person.
Posted by: Dan Khong | Tuesday, 04 February 2014 at 05:32 PM
I can understand addiction to some extent, since most of my friends had problems with alcohol (alcoholism is endemic in the newspaper business.) And I was a serious smoker for sixteen years, and finally managed to quit. Cigarette smoke still smells good to me, but I'd never go back, because I know what would happen -- I'd get addicted again -- and then I'd probably develop lung problems and maybe cancer. If you've really been off for a while, and you *know* what will happen if you go back...why in God's name would you go back? It takes a little will-power to stay off, when you've been off for a while, but not much. So what is it? A self-destructive impulse? A need for medication that you can't get from a doctor? It's especially tragic with fine artists, and I've often wondered if the psychological complex that allows them to become fine artists eventually becomes intolerable, and they find they they need street medication to keep themselves sane. A guy as smart as Hoffman had to have been aware of all those entertainers who walked down exactly the same road, with tragic consequences...
Posted by: John Camp | Tuesday, 04 February 2014 at 05:38 PM
The New York Post ran the now-famous tintype of Seymour Hoffman as it's full-page cover today (Tuesday). Inside, the article quotes magazine publisher John Arundel as saying he didn't immediately recognize the hollow-eyed actor at the recent Sundance Film Festival and asked him what he did for a living. "I'm a heroin addict," Hoffman was quoted as telling Arundel. -- Jim Hughes
Posted by: Jim Hughes | Tuesday, 04 February 2014 at 06:01 PM
I KNOW that look from personal experience which I won't go in to here. That portrait cuts to my bones, sad and in the light of his death, prophetic.
There have been comments on some other boards I'm on basically saying "meh, no sympathy, a junkie is a junkie, they don't care". I can't even respond to them,(it would not be pretty) I feel sorry for anyone who is that lacking in empathy. Without the empathy of others I would be dead now.
PSH was brilliant. When you see the big names acting you say "oh there's" George Clooney or Brad Pitt or Jennfer Garner of Scarlett Johanson playing a role. When PSH was on screen he became the character and you didn't see PHS. He was truly one of the greatest actors who ever lived.
Posted by: Bob Smith | Tuesday, 04 February 2014 at 06:12 PM
"Or he was just acting"
Charlie, google pictures PSH, he wasn't acting.
Posted by: Bob Smith | Tuesday, 04 February 2014 at 06:18 PM
Excellent observation, Mike. Given what we now know that photo is truly haunting.
I am truly saddened by this; he was perhaps my favorite actor. I am watching "Owning Mahowny" tonight in his honor. Such a talented man, and I love that he was known to be humble. I wish so many more people were humble.
Posted by: emptyspaces | Tuesday, 04 February 2014 at 08:24 PM
CharlieH- I agree with everything you said in the latter part of your comment, but am really at a loss to understand, "It's much harder to smile for the camera than to look mean or stoic, or just sad." People worldwide automatically tend to smile as soon as camera is readied in many a non candid portrait situation, which is why competent portrait photographers strive to get beyond the initial smile phase into something a bit more complex or revelatory. Agreed, it may just be an act, a response to what the sitter thinks the photographer wants, but it usually takes a certain amount of effort to get there for photographer and sitter alike.
Posted by: Stan B. | Tuesday, 04 February 2014 at 09:09 PM
I must say that I have no idea who the poor chap was, nor looking at the gallery of the other "celebrities". I lead a fairly reclusive life. But I came away thinking that the wet plate collodion process certainly added a different dimension to these photos. The relatively long exposures, the fact that emulsion is only sensitive to blue light and the obvious imperfections in coating the plates disrupts how we look at the photos. We have become so used to seeing very slick celebrity photos that when we see these they appear raw and visceral. It somehow strips the artifice of the modern cult of celebrity away so we feel we see the real person underneath. Whether we are or not is of course open to conjecture as it could be argued that actors are always playing a role.
Posted by: Paul Amyes | Tuesday, 04 February 2014 at 09:18 PM
I read some blurbs of encounters with him at Sundance..most said he didn't look good at all so that portrait might reflect the truth about where his head was.
One can only think of his Family and his Children and how tough this is for them. Im a huge a fan of his work but ultimately it comes down to him as a fragile human being and his kids having to sort through this for the rest of their lives.
I have to, hope to think that this wasn't a suicide..just a guy spiraling, whose body just couldn't withstand the abuse it was receiving.
Posted by: David | Tuesday, 04 February 2014 at 10:09 PM
I'd disagree that he never saw it coming, or that the death was a unintended. That's the hell of it. There's no way not to know that every time your stick a needle in your arm that it's going to kill you, that look you see reflected is the certain knowledge that it will, and yet, there's no way to stop. I've been trying to loose weight - just weight, everyone knows how to do that - for a decade, and yet, it's midnight, and I eat a bloody snack. I can't begin to image having that kind of a demon eating at me. As a father, i really want to hate him for making this choice. As a father, I pity him and grieve because at some point it was the only choice he could make.
Posted by: Rob L. | Wednesday, 05 February 2014 at 12:29 AM
Mike, thank you for this beautiful piece of feeling, thinking and writing. I am glad you are back, and I hope you are well now and will stay so for a long time to come.
Posted by: Hans Muus | Wednesday, 05 February 2014 at 06:58 AM
Philip Seymour who was my first reaction........never heard of the bloke I must say. Nevertheless, maybe it helps to keep someone on the straight and narrow but even that I doubt, in fact maybe someone fatalistic enough (and who in their right mind isn't these days) may take this as the wrong example.
Greets, Ed.
Posted by: Ed | Wednesday, 05 February 2014 at 09:05 AM
Heroin did not kill Hoffman. It is possible to be a heroin addict all one's life and be a productive member of society while doing it.
What killed Hoffman is the the war on drugs, which produces the criminal underlife who distribute the adulterated and non standardized drugs that addicts use.
It is our tragic drug policy which fills hundreds of thousands of U.S. jail cells with marijuana users, destroys people, families, and entire cultures in Latin ans South America, and adds Philip Seymour Hoffman to the casualty list of wonderful artists who have perished because they could not know what was in their needle.
Anyone who appreciates cinema loved Hoffman as an actor. He spoke to us. He was one of us. To paraphrase Martin Niemoeller, they just came for one of us. If we can look upon the death of Philip Seymour Hoffman and not act to change our national drug policy we never deserved him.
Posted by: Gingerbaker | Wednesday, 05 February 2014 at 09:16 AM
Just as a side note, I have to say that whenever collodion work makes it into the popular perception, the work always seems terribly sloppy.
Sure, there's a failure rate. The process is quite finicky, and it seems to be virtually impossible to produce a picture that has no defects. Still, people who are actually good at it seem to produce consistently better results.
One cannot help but suspect that there's a degree of deliberate sloppiness, to add an aura of authenticity to the work, which is a shame. The process is completely glorious without all this separation and white blotches and so on.
Posted by: Andrew Molitor | Wednesday, 05 February 2014 at 10:52 AM
Thanks for this post. The more said about this man now, the less said about all the boring, undertalented celebrities who gobble up the media. As you said, his life is a study in how wealth and fame cannot heal certain wounds and might even make them worse: you wonder what would have happened for PSH if he had been a mid-level businessman struggling to feed his family. Perhaps wealth and fame -- and the spare time and stress sometimes attached to them -- made it easier, not harder, for him to follow the path of addiction to its end.
Posted by: Jeff glass | Wednesday, 05 February 2014 at 12:53 PM
Yes, the photographer of that tintype is Victoria Will and the darkroom processing is by Josh Wool. See http://joshwool.tumblr.com/post/75670551256/phillip-seymour-hoffman-park-city-utah-4x5
Posted by: Jeff Greer | Wednesday, 05 February 2014 at 07:15 PM
Looking at the celebrity-tintypes-at-sundance link did anybody else think of Avedon's "In The American West?" I certainly did.
Because of the strangeness and melancholy in so many of the portraits. Even though at Sundance these subjects are all celebrities of one sort or another while Avedon's subject most certainly are not.
Posted by: david blankenhorn | Thursday, 06 February 2014 at 02:00 PM
Here's a good background on this photo, the wet plate process, and why it's not a good example of the type:
http://www.largeformatphotography.info/forum/showthread.php?110890-Chuck-Close-20x24-Polaroids-in-Vanity-Fair&p=1108147&viewfull=1#post1108147
[I wouldn't call that "good background" and I disagree strongly with his conclusions and also with his premises and his reasoning. --Mike]
Posted by: Ed | Monday, 10 February 2014 at 12:30 PM