By Marsha McCreadie
One high aesthetic compliment is to call an artist ahead of his time. Yet the real trick is to be of your time and ahead of it, too. Cecil Beaton—photographer, illustrator, set and costume designer, even author—turned that trick, and nicely, too. The fabulous results, even a hint at his motivation, are currently exhibited at the Museum of the City of New York. Why there, and why now? Well, it’s Beaton’s “New York Years,” the 1920s through the 1960s, the fun decades, at least for him and his crowd. Beaton was a soigné mover in the top artistic and social tiers in both his native England and his semi-permanent residence of elegant Manhattan hotel suites.
There’s already something gemulichkeit about the approachable museum portico, so the “Beaton Rose,” his cozy 1940s fabric design papering the entrance hall, is a needed transition into a glittery world presented with a clever structure: both chronological and thematic. Let’s face it. We don’t really go to get a career history—though it’s there if you want it, from his early surprisingly “romantic” painting and drawing, through his magazine photography years and costumes for the Metropolitan Opera. Exhausted yet? And that’s just this continent. We also gawk.
Sub-divisions are devoted to his pictures of Marilyn Monroe, Wallis Simpson, Greta Garbo (one of Beaton’s heartfelt but rare heterosexual love quests, and the only “candid” of her laughing I’ve ever seen), Elsie de Wolfe, Andy Warhol, Salvador Dali. Also view a sweet-looking young Marlon Brando and a cheery Mick Jagger. Both Hepburns—Kate and Audrey, separately. And a sprinkling of socialites. Decorator de Wolfe got Beaton access, and he flattered, cunningly: “I only photograph those I like and admire.” (Summation-type Beaton quotes are posted throughout.) From a wealthy, but not aristocratic background, he was clearly more comfortable in a Manhattan filled with other arrivistes than in class-fixed old England.
When the stylistic tide turned against his lush Vogue and Vanity Fair painterly tableaux, shifting to the informal action photography of Richard Avedon and Irving Penn, Beaton didn’t wail but moved on—to sets and costumes for Broadway and Hollywood (though he resented time spent in L.A.) The show highlights details of the Ascot Race set of My Fair Lady, famously imitated by Truman Capote’s Plaza Hotel Black and White Ball (and every subsequent would-be sophisticate’s last-minute stylistic non-color garb).
I tagged along on an all-girl high school class tour given by the show’s curator, Donald Albrecht (his book is the basis for the show, published by Skira Rizzoli, $65—as glossy “collector” type books go these days, a veritable bargain). Volubly magnetized by the Monroe photos, with the thrilling shock of recognition, happily the girls did not screech “iconic.” Albrecht tried to wean them away to the tres jolie costume Anna Moffo wore as Violetta in 1966’s La Traviata—one of six in living-color costumes on mannequins—but they were already transfixed.
Peek at Beaton’s letters and other writing for an ironic self-view. See a handsome-looking woman in a shiny dress and hair bob, shot from behind, glancing over her shoulder. It’s Beaton in drag, clever enough to omit pearls thrown carelessly down the back to tip you off. I liked the artifice of the photo of curator Henry Geldzahler with his boyfriend Chris Scott posed in front of their David Hockney portrait. But mostly, without editorializing, Beaton just went for the essence of his subjects. You’ll never see a sweeter (yet strong) Lillian Gish than in an early Beaton gouache.
Is there a discernable Beaton Style? Was he the Picasso of the photography and design world—signature, even when using multiple modes? No and no. Who cares? He caught various zeitgeists and their emblematic people, made viewers want to look and dress like them, and unapologetically took bits and pieces from every genre. You could call it artistic shoplifting (some did). Or, eventually, homage.
Cecil Beaton: The New York Years
Through Feb. 20, Museum of the City of New York, 1220 5th Ave., 212-534-1672, www.mcny.org.
