
The camera is an instrument that teaches people how to see without a camera / Dorothea Lange
10 April 2008
Jim Harrison, Writer

McGuane, handsome and intense, seemed focussed and irritated as he listened to other authors speaking while Harrison seemed laconic and bored. Just when you thought that he might have fallen into sleep, however, he would espouse some learned gem that made the afternoon worthwhile. Harrison wore the same jacket and t-shirt each day, both frayed and dirty. He was large, leaning toward amorphous, but there was a broken power in his presence that seemed, even in its diminished form, greater than mere mortal.
I took this photograph just before a very frail, elderly lady introduced herself. It was John Steinbeck's widow, and she had been in the audience for a number of days, unrecognized and unnoticed. I had only my Olympus XA with its attached flash, and the automatic exposure caught something in the foreground, so the picture I took turned out to be unprintable. It was an historic occasion and it is lost.
There is nothing intimate about this portrait, nothing to recommend it but the fierce presence of this author. We see him here a gourmand and a glutton, plagued by gout, limping as he walked with the aid of a cane, his famous wandering eye pointing toward some distant star, his fierce passions at last overtaking him. He once said, "I no longer know if I am thinking or writing." I look into that one good eye and begin to understand.
Text and photo: Wiliam Schmidt
If you want to know more about Jim Harrison, this interview in The Morning News (2004) could be a good start.