You might be curious why the creator of the absurd character Zippy the Pinhead would choose to write a non-fictional biography of a photographer from a century and a half ago. While Griffith explains in more detail in the book's early pages, the simple answer is right on the cover. Namely that Griffith is in fact Jackson's great-grandson. Interestingly, while this might suggest that Griffith had access to family records and documents that previous biographers did not, it does not seem that he had much that was particularly unique within his family beyond a few anecdotes from his mother and a copy of the uneditted manuscript of the biography Elwood Bonney published in 2000.
Griffith covers Jackson's life in its entirety, referencing Jackson's own autobiography for most of the earliest bits. However, since Bonney's interviews with Jackson from late in the photographer's life seem to be more robust, much of Jackson's story is told within the framing of those interviews. Griffith skips over Jackson's life as a Union soldier during the Civil War in two pages, and gets on to how his general interest in art led Jackson to take up photography. Because it was a fairly new field and because it was exceptionally tedious to carry all the necessary materials outside of a studio environment, Jackson took advantage of that and got in on many exploratory expeditions simply because he was willing to put up with the often terrible conditions where others would not.
Eighty percent of success is showing up.
The book explores some of Jackson's other expeditions and, even the ones which were perhaps more advanced in terms of the physical aspects of travel, they never seemed to cease having more than their fair share of challenges. It does not seem Jackson openly groused about these difficulties overmuch, but they did seem to get the better of him on occasion, judging by his letters home. (He was a fairly prolific letter-writer to stay in communication with his wife while he was away on travels.)
Griffith does talk about Jackson's family throughout the book, but as he frequently left them behind on his trips, they are out of the picture a lot. This becomes a point of contention in more than a couple instances when a family member becomes upset at his not being home very much. Although Griffith doesn't focus on this a great deal, between this and Jackson's somewhat condescending attitude towards the Native Americans he photographed, he actually does not strike me as a particularly likeable fellow. Griffith does grant himself an aisde in the book to talk about how Jackson's views on Native Americans in particular would not be acceptable today, and were potentially even damaging at the time. But beyond that, Jackson is frequently dismissive of whatever woman he happens to be with -- both before and after marriage -- and he seems entirely unconcerned with raising his children. Griffith even notes that his mother expressly said, "He had no use for children."
Which leads to the one other thing I shoud touch on. I noted earlire that much of the framing for the book is Bonney's interviews with an older Jackson. However, it also repeatedly switches to Griffith himself. But it weirdly even comes at that from several directions. It's initially told from his perspective as a child and learning his middle names are after his great-grandfather. But he also has some imaginary conversations with Jackson's spirit while he's in his 20s. And there are several asides and comments from Griffith today, interjecting as he's making this book. Not to mention the entire book ending on a sort-of dream sequence with an adult Griffith talking with both Jackson and Yogi Bear about a stove Jackson lost in 1871. Somehow it still seems to flow smoothly despite the changing perspectives and framing.
All in all, it's a fascinating look at an artist I was previously unaware of. It also perfectly dovetails off Guy Delisle's Muybridge -- which I happened to read a couple weeks ago -- focusing on the life of Eadweard Muybridge. While they focused on different areas of photography, they were contemporaries and were likely at least nominally aware of each others' work. These two books together make for an excellent snapshot of what photography was like in the earliest days.
Photographic Memory came out last month from Abrams Comic Arts and should be available through your favorite book retailer. It retails for $35 US in hardcover. If you order it directly from Griffith, you can have him inscribe it for you.
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