In Search of Beauty – Bill Cunningham: New York Part 2

Bill Cunningham at work in a blizzard

Harold Koda, curator of the costume institute of New York’s Metropolitan Museum, says Cunningham is ‘a true egalitarian. It’s not that he isn’t aware of cultural division and hierarchies but he treats it all the same.’ Bill’s camera does not lie. And he seems a man incapable of it. He is undoubtedly a man of integrity. ‘If you don’t take money,’ he smiles, ‘they can’t tell you what to do. That’s the key to the whole thing.’ 

For him, photography is ‘not work’, but ‘a pleasure’. In the latter part of the film, we see Bill go to Paris to receive the prestigious title Officier de l’Ordre des Arts et des Lettres from the French Ministry of Culture. Bill is seen snapping away at the crowd – working even at his own party. When he gets up to make his speech, he speaks candidly and succinctly: ‘I’m not interested in celebrities with their free dresses,’ he declares, ‘ I’m interested in clothes.’  For Bill, ‘the best fashion show is on the street. Always has been, always will be.’

On the Street: New York Times

But Bill is more than a clothing enthusiast. For the subjects of his photographs, he looks for individuals with style and flair. ‘Exotic birds of paradise’ he calls them. ‘We're in the age of the cookie-cutter sameness. There are few that are rarities, someone who doesn’t look like 10 million others,’ he laments.

Indeed it is the subjects of his photographs that would appear to provide the colour in Bill’s life. New York dandy, Patrick McDonald, another of Bill’s frequent subjects, says ‘we’re all blank canvasses when we get up in the morning, and we paint ourselves.’ It appears to be that special marrying of the wearer with the right attitude in the right outfit that interests Cunningham. That certain something that you cannot put your finger on, but which marks someone out as truly stylish. The ability to put together an outfit and make it a reflection of you, rather than simply showcasing your wealth or the cloth you are wearing. Perhaps this is why Bill’s pictures always seem so fresh and significant.

Patrick McDonald by Bill Cunningham

Cunningham sees fashion in a different way from most people in the business. He does not seek out trends, or look for fashion disasters: he has a very pure connection to the unique beauty and originality which is found in an interesting outfit as it moves on its occupant down a New York street. ‘I don’t decide anything,’ he says. ‘I let the street speak to me, and in order for the street to speak to you, you’ve got to stay out there and see what it is. You just don’t manufacture in your head that skirts at the knee are the thing, and you go out and photograph skirts at the knee... you’ve got to stay on the street and let the street tell you what it is. There’s no shortcuts. Believe me.’ 

Editta Sherman – ‘The Duchess of Carnegie Hall’

In his photographic quest Bill Cunningham has come to represent the timeless search for beauty in a changing city. One of the key aspects of the film is the passing of a piece of New York local history and colour – the gradual eviction of the artists and bohemians who, like Bill, have lived in apartments in Carnegie Hall. Their rent-controlled homes, now needed for offices, have been whittled down to two: Bill’s and his 98-year old friend, neighbour and fellow photographer Editta Sherman, who has been there since the mid 1940s. (Bill’s apartment was always by far the smallest).

At the end of the film we see Bill eventually relocated at the city’s expense to a more upscale apartment at Columbus Circle. Typically, he is uncomfortable with his new luxurious surroundings and has his new kitchen gutted to make space for his numerous filing cabinets.

Editta Sherman by Bill Cunningham

The most pivotal and heart-breaking segment comes when producer Philip Gefter questions Cunningham about his faith and personal life. To all intents and purposes he is an intensely private man. An enigma even to those closest to him, his friends and subjects profess to know little of him as a private person. Iris Apfel, a good friend claims: ‘I have the feeling that he doesn’t sit down and talk to people too much.’ Another friend and frequent subject over the years, Annette de la Renta, states: ‘I have no idea about his private life, I have no idea if he’s lonely.’

Iris Apfel – one of Bill's favourite muses

Cunningham’s replies to these deeply personal issues are surprising and profoundly moving. Ultimately, the film is a paean to a man whose enduring love affair has been with his work and with the strangers who continue to inhabit his photographs. After all it is they – in the form of the tens of thousands of negatives which fill his living space – who he lives and sleeps with.

Amongst all the glitz and glamour, the colour and the frills, it is Bill Cunningham who shines as the star of the film. Bill describes himself as boring and plain: ‘If we all went out looking like slobs like me,’ he jokes, ‘it would be a pretty dreary world.’ But to the viewer, the quirky bohemian ascetic with the disarmingly genuine nature comes out as the true visionary and artist.

Bill Cunningham

Richard Press’s film holds a mirror up to a rare vision of simplicity and beauty in a cynical and superficial world. As Bill himself says tearfully in his speech to pick up his French honour: ‘He who seeks beauty will find it.’ This remarkable film shows us a man unwaveringly true to his own spirit – even when it is at odds with the world in which he resides.