Strong Women
photos and text by Ken Mierzwa
When I first began to photograph people in the 1970s, most of the women in front of my camera were tall and thin. There was only one with muscles, a gymnast and dancer. Nola was, at the time, one of my favorite models. Her foray into the fashion world did not go well. Except for the occasional newspaper insert advertising the latest in dancewear or sporting clothes, there wasn't much work. She was different from the rest. It's curious that at about the same time (1980), Robert Mapplethorpe began to photograph bodybuilder/performance artist Lisa Lyon.
For the next few years I photographed individuals participating in the alternative music subculture. Mostly it was documentary work, on location. But occasionally I brought someone into the studio for a more formal session. These women were bending gender roles, but they were doing it with clothes, hair, makeup, and attitudes which mocked more traditional values. With rare exceptions, they were not leading particularly healthy lifestyles. Several of the women in my 1981-82 photos later fell victim to drugs or suicide.
After a long break from serious photography, I began to create images of people once again in 1997. I had changed, and society had changed. Now I was well established in a professional career, and working out of a 32nd story office in downtown Chicago. I had always been a runner, but running was no longer something done casually. Now a run was something to fit into a busy workday. I belonged to an upscale gym, located directly across the street from my office. Every Monday and Wednesday at 6:00 pm, the running group met and headed for the lakefront trail or to the 400-meter track. We trained hard; most of us ran a marathon each year, and countless shorter races.
The people around me were professionals; lawyers, medical doctors, accountants, management consultants. Here, next to me on the running path, was a new breed of woman. They were smart, strong, and competitive, ready and able to race the guys. These women had muscles, and they were proud of it. As soon as I recognized what I was seeing, I knew that it had to be photographed.
Although the concept originated with runners, the first subjects were actually a yoga instructor and a bigwall climber. Over the next two and a half years, more than 40 women agreed to stand in front of my lens. They ranged in age from 19 to about 50, with most in their mid-30s. There were a lot of marathon runners and triathletes, several sport climbers, the occasional squash or ultimate frisbie enthusiast, and one competitive bodybuilder. A few simply worked out, with no particular competitive sport in mind. Workouts for this group usually meant free weights, among other things.
I photographed them on featureless black or gray seamless background paper. These images were meant to be about the individual, devoid of context. It is striking that almost all of the subjects are looking directly into (or through?) the lens, holding eye contact with the viewer-to-be. I rarely had to prompt them to do that. Assertiveness and confidence become automatic after a little time in the corporate arena.
There is also something about the posture. With a little practice, it is possible to recognize a trained athlete at first glance. Even while static, they are like a coiled spring, an animal ready to pounce. These muscles are trained to motion, and they have paused only for a brief moment. Those who have trained at a serious level will understand why movement is so essential. They will understand how fluid, powerful, controlled motion feels. They will know that the exhilaration more than compensates for the pain. After enough practice, and on a good day, it is possible to move both effortlessly and at the limits of endurance at the same time. The feeling is impossible to explain to anyone who has never experienced it.
For a long time, I was content to climb the corporate ladder, train for marathons evenings and weekends, and spend what little social time was left over with others like me. Working on a professional career and running 40 miles a week doesn't leave a lot of extra time. I did notice signs of discontent around me; a few people made it clear that they were no longer enjoying their jobs, and at least two of them walked away from everything to pursue a simpler lifestyle.
After a while I began to understand what all was not well in utopia. Confidence and assertiveness were too often intermingled with narcissism. You'd be amazed how many models told me that they wanted to do photos to document their bodies while they were still young.
The confidence all too often turned out to be a thin veneer, a shield to protect the bearer from the outside world. The world that created all this also generated high levels of stress. You can see it in many of the faces.
There was also a lack of deep social interaction. I met some wonderful people, and remain in contact with a few of them. But in general, people came and went so quickly that no one invested too much in a relationship. There were a lot of acquaintances, and few true friends.
Finally, the economic confidence of the late 1990s was about to end. Fueled by ever-growing stock portfolios, some thought it would last forever. But the house of cards was already beginning to shake.
Some of the people in my photographs understood all of this. A few responded, each in their own way.
I moved on to other subjects, and then a little later I moved across the country. It was an interesting and worthwhile experience, but it's time to do something else. I understand some things now that I didn't before. It will be interesting to look back at these images in 10 or 20 years, with the perspective of time, and see what they tell us then.
Part of the "Strong Women" series was included in the "Flesh and Stone" group exhibit at Bailiwick Arts Center, Chicago, in 1999.
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Kenneth S. Mierzwa -- shadowplay2@mac.com
March 26, 2006
March 26, 2006