by Raluca Oana Radu
I had the chance to meet Jim Herrington in Brașov, during the 9th edition of the the Alpin Film Festival, which took over the medieval citadel from September 17th to 22nd. Jim Herrington happily accepted the invitation of Alpin Film Festival to come to Brașov along with his highly acclaimed and internationally awarded photo exhibition – THE CLIMBERS, which can be admired until mid October 2024.
The opening of THE CLIMBERS exhibition in Brașov, featuring a part of Jim`s worldwide praised photo collection (www.theclimbersbook.com), was held in Council Square (Piața Sfatului) and provided me with the opportunity to have a discussion with this passionate storyteller—a magician of light and shadows, constantly searching for meaning, universal beauty, and human connections.
Using not only images, but also words that craft an intimate journal, Jim transports us to that space and time, making us complicit witnesses to his subjects’ strength or frailty, obsession, and intellectual voyages.
Going through his biography, we find out that ” Jim Herrington photographed Benny Goodman at the age of 13 years old, and for the next 40 years, the American photographer travelled around the world, documenting music culture. His portraits of musicians—as well as actors, authors, and other public figures, including the likes of The Rolling Stones, Tom Petty, Morgan Freeman, Dolly Parton, Jerry Lee Lewis, and Willie Nelson—have appeared in the pages of Vanity Fair, Rolling Stone, The New York Times, and others since the 1980s. Most recently, he shot the latest album cover for The Black Keys.
In the mid-1990s, when Herrington was already famous in the music and magazine world, he quietly began a side project—a more personal voyage. Over the next twenty years, he followed in the footsteps of early-to-mid 20-th century mountain climbing legends—men and women who were at the cutting edge of an activity mostly unknown to the public at the time. Herrington’s efforts & passionate searches culminated in his first book, The Climbers, a collection of sixty black-and-white portraits that document their journeys.
Raluca Oana Radu: Looking back at your journey—from that first photograph of Benny Goodman to documenting some of the greatest figures in music and mountaineering—what do you think drives your deep fascination with capturing the human spirit, and how has your own sense of self evolved through these encounters?
Jim Herrington: I still feel like the 7-year-old boy that used to lie on the floor and look at his father’s 1940’s Life Magazines… People, places and things still get me very excited and enthused. I want to see places, meet people, learn things, see it all. When I’m at home my computer always has 17 windows open… plus maps. I’m just deeply curious and always researching the next thing. I’m lucky that I found photography early in my life and it’s allowed me to do all these things. I was a completely bored student at school, hated it, so the rest of my life has been my real education.
Music and photography are such important parts of your life; they seem to define how you perceive and depict the world. Do you find the same sense of connection with other forms of artistic expression as you do with these two?
Jim Herrington: Yes, I like them all. Cinema, books, painting, architecture, landscaping… I think if you like any kind of art you probably like all art, right?
People often believe that the person behind the camera is merely an observer searching for the best perspective. However, when one looks closer at your portraits, it becomes clear that the frame is like a confession, and you seem to inhabit those moments. How do you manage to get so close to your subjects in order to capture their intimate narratives?
Jim Herrington: That’s my dirty little secret. The honest truth is, that’s the part of the recipe that I’m not sure I have the answer to myself and I don’t want to mess it up by thinking about it too much.
Your project, The Climbers, seems deeply personal, capturing climbers who have lived life at the edge. What was that attracted you so much to these individuals that compelled you to document their lives, and what did you learn about them as people through this process?
Jim Herrington: It started innocently enough, as all of my things do. There were two California men still alive that had climbed in the 1920s and me being interested in early California history, both climbing and otherwise, I set out to find and photograph them. Then, for almost 20 years, the project grew beyond my wildest dreams, and over those years the story started to take shape.
What is it like to be 98 years old and to look back at an uncompromising life spent in the “useless” quest of first ascents, usually far from home and hearth? The momentum and vigor of youth is not an ideal recipe for introspection, but one’s final years certainly suffice. I learned as much about myself as I did about my subjects during the project – the cost and reward of obsession and how to live in the present.
You’ve mentioned that your passion for analog film played a role in The Climbers. How does using this medium connect you more closely to your subjects, and how do you feel it captures the humanity of these mountain legends differently from modern digital photography?
Jim Herrington: I learned on film and that’s the medium I fell in love with as a boy. I like the feel, the sound, the tactile aspect, the smell, the cameras, all of it. I like the limitations of it. The endless “fixability” of digital leaves me cold. I like light sensitive silver. I like holding, handling, cutting actual film negatives, holding them up to the light. They’re real, they exist. I have 950 large envelopes full of them. They’re heavy because silver is a metal. If this sounds like poetry and romance, fine. It’s my chosen way to work, it makes me feel good touching things that aren’t a computer and most of all I prefer the way analog looks.
The world of music and climbing are apparently different on the surface, yet both require a certain tenacity, strength and spirit. Could you see any similarities between the musicians and climbers you’ve photographed, and how has that influenced your perspective on life and art?
Jim Herrington: Those two worlds have a lot in common, in fact. Keep in mind I document the early/mid 20th Century practitioners of both worlds. Being a mountain climber and being a musician, let’s say in the 1950s, are two activities that exist far outside the social norms of society. Both worlds have been populated you could say by the oddballs, rebels, or just the “different”… Both activities instill great passion and even obsession when it comes to learning and perfecting the craft. Both worlds might put a strain on finances and/or relationships. You get the idea, I could continue…
When leading workshops, what is the most important lesson you try to instill in emerging photographers about capturing the essence of a subject?
Jim Herrington: I don’t believe there is such a thing as an “essence” of a subject, so I never teach that. People are complicated and multi-faceted with a myriad of shades and shapes on any given day. Perhaps you could have an idea of a facet that you wanted to capture… or… you could be nimble and open to see how a session goes with the subject. Great surprises can happen if you’re open to them and have a developed visual vocabulary to back you up. Doing a portrait is always a collaboration and so you depend as much on psychology as you do technical/artistic tactics.
Your projects take you around the world, and you are perpetually moving around wide horizons. How do these voyages affect your life?
Jim Herrington: More than affecting my life, these voyages are my life. Traveling informs me, makes me sympathetic. New people and places help me evolve. I
Where do you feel most like yourself, and what kind of landscapes inspire or soothe you the most?
Jim Herrington: I guess I feel most like myself when I’m in the mood to. This morning, I was bushwhacking up a cliffy overgrown section of the Amalfi coast, alone on some crumbling, forgotten but beautiful trail. I felt very me. I feel that way when I’m in the kitchen cooking. Or walking in a city. I think it’s more mood-based than location, I can be in a pretty good mood just about anywhere. Traveling alone, far from home, is pretty soothing to me.
