Photographic Genesis: A Szarkowskian Analysis of Diane Arbus’ Albino Sword Swallower

Upon viewing Diane Arbus’ Albino Sword Swallower at a Carnival, MD., I was immediately struck by the sword’s cruciform appearance. Arbus never intended to primarily explore religious themes, though, as far as anyone knows—what was to become, then, of this seemingly trivial cross shape? Rather than discard my observation as a passing thought, I was prompted to reflect more thoroughly on what else in the composition compounds a spiritual narrative. Through investigating this photograph's formal qualities, I will address some particularities and potentialities of lens-induced transformation. For this task, I will turn to the 1966 catalogue The Photographer’s Eye by John Szarkowski.

It is not a reach to declare Szarkowski an undeniably (if not unfortunately, to critics of modernism) iconic figure in the art photography canon. Eminent photographer, critic, and director emeritus of the Museum of Modern Art’s Department of Photography, he set the tone for modernist photography with his formalist stipulation in said catalogue that photography is a process of selection. Szarkowski’s influence extended far beyond the theoretical realm—as a MoMA elite, his endorsement of a relatively unknown photographer often catapulted them into the American photography canon. His 1967 MoMA show New Documents featured three such photographers, among them Diane Arbus.

Born Diane Nemerov, Diane Arbus (1923-1971) was a former fashion photographer whose discontent with the commercial realm led her to the burgeoning modernist movement. Receiving relatively little attention while she was alive—New Documents was her only show during her lifetime—posthumously, her short-lived career has proven to be particularly contentious. A sixties-esque existential sensibility manifests controversially in her portraiture of (those regarded as) exceptional, bizarre individuals relegated to societal margins. Her 1970 black-and-white photograph Albino Sword Swallower at a Carnival exemplifies her gravitations towards eccentricity.

Central to Szarkowski’s selection process are five interrelated aspects: “the thing itself,” the detail, the vantage point, the frame, and time. Through analyses of the thing itself, the detail, and the vantage point, I will explore how Arbus’ decontextualization of the performer creates incongruities between subject and surrounding, which collaborate with anachronistic detail and the frontal vantage point to birth conceptions of the albino sword swallower as a mystical, timeless figure. I will conclude with a brief exploration of the limitations of this approach.

The Thing Itself

A capacious concept described in abstract terms, “the thing itself” essentially deals with the photographer’s subject matter. Szarkowski grounds his exposition with an acknowledgement of the photographer’s first lesson: they must avail themself of objects and forms and sites that already exist. Rather than compose, like the painter, the photographer selects. Thus, it is the deliberate selection of the subject with which the thing itself is concerned. Importantly, Szarkowski establishes a crucial distinction: the subject—the thing itself—as it exists in reality is not as it appears in the photograph. It is not the camera’s business to purvey the truth or translate the thing itself exactly as it is; rather, the camera allows the thing itself to take on a meaning not ascribed to it outside the lens.

Szarkowski’s concept of the thing itself illuminates how Arbus’ decontextualization of the sword swallower allows the birth of the subject’s new identity. In Albino Sword Swallower, the thing itself is the carnival performer. The performer as she actually exists is distinct from the performer as captured by the lens, accentuated by Arbus’ choice to take her out of the setting in which she would be viewed in reality. If the viewer were to attend the carnival, they would see her within the sensorially overwhelming carnival scene. Among luridly-costumed employees manning flashy pop-up stands overrun with rowdy visitors and an abundance of eccentric entertainers vying for their spectators’ money and attention, the sword swallower would herself be swallowed by the crowd. This elaborately costumed, performance-ready woman is caught alone, however, in a decidedly unglamorous backstage corner at odds with the circus image. The viewer’s eyes are allowed to settle on her and her only. A dark tent resists the viewer’s urge to further enter the performer’s space; the viewer is forced to remain an observer.

When the viewer searches for an explanation for this new context, they do not find it. The photo does not treat the viewer to any glimpse of her interiority—simply looking at the snapshot will not reveal whether she is feeling discomfort mid-performance, whether she is tired of her job, how she came into this line of work, or any other possible feeling or element of her story. By removing her subject from her expected context, Arbus creates a visual discordance that sensitizes viewers to the distinction between the performer as she would be seen in reality and the performer as she is seen through the lens. While Arbus cannot use her camera to present a faithful document of the albino sword swallower, she can use her camera to suggest something new about her subject. These new ideas are best explored using Szarkowski’s notions of the detail and the vantage point.

‍The Detail and the Vantage Point

According to Szarkowski, photographers cull specific visual characteristics from what their surroundings offer and thus, in isolating them in their lens, award them new significance. While the photograph cannot replicate the real (what exists without the intervention of a lens), its formal details birth symbolism. Closely related, the vantage point is a transformative factor in the different approaches the photographer can take; in other words, the angle and perspective of the camera can create and destroy forms that only take on meaning in certain arrangements, from certain perspectives.

Anachronistic details of sword and dress enable Arbus’ evocation of the sword swallower’s mystical, timeless qualities. Taking center stage, the cruciform sword and the manner in which the performer’s pose mimics it elicit striking associations with religion. Her hair and skirt seem stirred by a supernatural force, perhaps her intense faith or even her own divinity. Her ornate dress and sword, particularly conspicuous against the blank background, imbue her presence with a sense of otherworldliness compounded by the archaic nature of the sword-swallowing stunt—practiced since ancient times, it is a form of rudimentary bodily entertainment that, although requires incredible skill, is not sophisticated or modern. These elements conceive the woman as a semi-mythical figure that has transcended time, treating the observer to a glimpse of a long-performed spectacle.

This new awareness is also facilitated by what is not there: the background lacks identifying details that locate the sword-swallower in a specific place–in fact, if not for the title, the viewer might not realize that she is at a carnival. The tent creates a nondescript plane of nearly solid color, an opaque void that obscures what lies behind her. The only detail the viewer manages to grasp are faint indications of blinds, yet those fade into whiteness as the eye is drawn upwards. The slight vignetting of the frame hints at a circular emanation of light, mimicking a halo. The figure thus appears unmoored, floating in a light-bathed space that she commands with spiritual faculty. One can again imagine how these details would lose their significance if Arbus had photographed her subject in the chaos of the carnival. The flourishes of her dress and sword would have been subsumed and the background would no longer possess its aspatial quality. In short, the viewer would not read her as a mystical figure.

Importantly, these details are only awarded such significance because of Arbus’ frontal vantage point. If Arbus had positioned her camera at a bird’s-eye angle, for example, she would have lost the clear crucifix symbols formed by the sword and the performer’s body. Additionally, the frontal angle arguably treats the sword-swallower with a simple, respectful directness not always awarded to carnival performers, often derogatorily advertised as “freakshows.” Arbus’ photograph removes her from the expected context that would clearly render her as an eccentric attraction and attempts to elevate her into a reverent realm.

In Conclusion: Beyond Formalist Critique

Thus far, I have challenged myself to view Arbus’ photograph through Szarkowski’s eye, exploring how the imposition of a camera allows the “real” narrative to give way to a new symbolic realm. I have shown how Diane Arbus transforms her subject into a timeless spiritual figure by decontextualizing her, underscoring the distinction between the real and the photographed, and selecting details that, from a direct, frontal vantage point, draw out these mystical elements. 

Yet, as much as a strict formal analysis is worthy of consideration, it is important to acknowledge that this sort of formalism can be exhaustingly self-contained. An approach that heavily prioritizes only what is generated in the lens risks obscuring the greater social and political forces at play. When evaluating Arbus’ oeuvre in particular, it is important to reflect on the implications of a portfolio built on images of those societally marginalized. 

Modernist photographers dealt with ideas of universality and truth—underlying their work was the belief that the camera could and should be exploited as a mechanical image-maker, avoiding painterly sensibilities. Many who shared that belief appreciated Arbus’ photos as sensitive documentary images of those marginalized by society. Her work arguably treats them like any other photographic subject.

Others critique Arbus’ “othering” of her subjects, regardless of whatever her intentions may have been or how the subjects felt about participating in her work. Rather than humanize or appreciate, or neutrally document, her subjects, her work arguably exploits them without compassion. In her seminal text On Photography, Susan Sontag castigates Arbus’ camera as a tool that “[annihilated] moral boundaries and social inhibitions, freeing the photographer from any responsibility toward the people photographed.” Extending beyond Arbus to modernist photography in general, the modernist faith in the supposed objectivity and truth produced by the camera remains widely challenged by those who believe that detachment from social and political realities is not only unfavorable but impossible. 

Regardless of whether the ultimate takeaway is one of respectful, imaginative portraiture or uncompromising objectification, Arbus’ wielding of the camera undeniably prompts varied ideas of her subjects that continue to generate debate today. Central to these readings is the power of the lens to create something original—the photographic genesis.

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(Cover Image: Diane Arbus, Albino Sword Swallower at a Carnival, MD., 1970 (printed later by Neil Selkirk), gelatin silver print, 14 3/5 × 15 in | 37.1 × 38.1 cm. https://www.artsy.net/artwork/diane-arbus-albino-sword-swallower-at-a-carnival-md-2.)