Here's the trailer:
The topic of Visual Acoustics is Julius Shulman, the man credited as being the founder Architectural Photography. I never gave much thought to the photographers who document houses/buildings for publications, but, as the film explains, they play a huge role in portraying the "story" of a structure and our understanding of how it would look and feel if we were standing next to or inside of it. In setting up the documentary, the narrartor (Dustin Hoffman) says something like "a few people may actually have the opportunity to stand inside a structure designed by an architect, but 10, 000 will eventually see the structure in print," and, therefore, the job of the photographer is to depict it for this mass audience. A HUGE responsibility, and one that could be approached with a sensitivity to the "feel" of a building and a desire to communicate it to a larger audience, or not. As the film progresses, it describes Julius Shulman's professional relationship with the Modern architects Richard Neutra and Rudolf Schindler early on in his career and how they shaped his approach towards architectural photography. One of the most well-known of Julius Shulman's images is the one he took of Case House #22. As Shulman says in the film, the two women in the image were girlfriends of the architects who designed the house who happened to be sitting and talking in the corner of the living room. I love everything about his picture. The warm glow from inside the house juxtaposed against the night sky, the transparency between outside and inside, how the lights of Los Angeles almost look like they're twinkling below, the dynamic angle of the photograph that makes the house appear to cantalever over the cliff, and, most of the all, I like the romanticized way the image depicts the good life in LA in the early 60's.
I was blown away by the evocative images of buildings - buildings that looked like they were living, breathing things - that Schulman had taken, but I was moved even more by the indivisual himself. At the ripe age of 98, he was still so full of optimism and passion for nature, architecture, the environment, and the beauty of everyday life. He would marvel at the beauty of the lush, natural "jungle" that had become of his backyard, and exclaim how wonderful the orange blossoms smelled. He payed attention to everything with enthusiasm. Actually, his attitude towards the everyday things reminded me of something that Grace Coddington, the creative director at Vogue and another one that I think the world of, said in the September Issue. It was something to the effect of, "...pay attention to everything. Because if you fall asleep while you're in the car or take your eyes away from what's going on around you, you may miss something beautiful and wonderful." I don't think it's just a coincidence that both of these people have been responsible for bringing beautiful images to the world. Both of them harnessed the visual beauty or emotion that they noticed in something - whether architecture or fashion - and found a way of communicating it to a wider audience.
In the film, Schulman goes around visiting architects and clients of architects that he worked with in the past. In one of the segments, he has a lively and hilarious exchange with another wisecrack 90-something-year-old, an architect, which literally brought tears to my eyes. As they shuffle towards eachother to say hello and sit down to discuss their past collaborations for the camera, there's a black and white photograph of a bride, taken in the 30's or 40's, who must have been the architect's wife, sitting in a silver frame on the table beside the architect. Something about that scene - two ancient, yet lively men talking about the good old times in the presence of a treasured photograph of a woman from another time - tugged at my heartstrings.
After the film, I went home and Googled Julius Schulman, only to realize that he had just passed away last year, before the film was released. Having just watched this lively, sharp, warm, and hopeful human being on the screen for an hour an half, I genuinely felt that the world had lost a great individual. His optimism and relish for life reminded me of my grandfather, who's been a big inspiration to me and passed away a couple years ago. But, even though these guys are no longer physically around, their spirit lives on. And I'll think of them when I need a reminder to pay attention to life and find the beauty that exists in almost everything.
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