Given the popularity of the Alicia Keys and Swizz Beatz exhibit at Brooklyn Museum earlier this year, it comes as no surprise that the art collective is continuing this trend of exhibiting work in collaboration with cultural icons of the past and present.
While feeding into the glitz and allure of celebrity and fan culture may seem like an easy way to generate interest from the public and therefore bolster the popularity of the museum outside of known art circles, such shows are easier said than done. As such, to have an organization successfully launch not one, but two exhibitions of this nature, all in the span of a year, is no simple feat.
The musician, the photographer
The Brooklyn Museum’s latest show, Paul McCartney Photographs 1963–64: Eyes of the Storm, which ran from May 3 to August 18, 2024, featured archival photographs taken from the perspective of the acclaimed singer, songwriter, and iconic figure himself.
During his travels, Beatles member Paul McCartney carried with him a Pentax camera that documented the frenzy of fame and all that came with it from his point of view. This show granted us insider access to these never-before-seen prints, which are displayed alongside accompanying video clips and similar material.
While the peak of Beatlemania came well before my own teenage years, the influence of the band and of Paul McCartney himself on music and culture is undeniable. What is most meaningful about this show, in particular, is that it strips away the barriers of superstardom and presents a strikingly intimate portrait of these untouchable figures. The slight tilt of the camera, the blur of a face, and the rupture of light unveil soft points of comradery and affection. They tell a coming-of-age story, one not of fame but of family, one not unlike the albums of candid portraiture littering the shelves of homes all over the world.
Humanity in focus
One photo, in particular, stood out to me as an ode to this narrative. In Self-portrait (1963), we see the blurred black and white reflection of Paul McCartney as he points his camera in front of a vanity mirror. The items on the table before him are hidden under a photographic guise of privacy, one that was perhaps rarely afforded to the rising star.
There is a unique vulnerability to the atmosphere portrayed in images like this one. In them, we see a friend or sibling sharing stories from his studies abroad; even in the prints of journalists and chasing fans, there is a certain je ne sais quoi quality to the habitual, fleeting nature of McCartney’s gaze. It is through these ordinary moments and self-portraits that we grow to understand just how extraordinarily human this era was.
