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U2 & I: The Photographs 1982-2004
Anton Corbijn
By
Published: Jan 01, 2006
Category:
Art and Photography
U2 & I: The Photographs 1982-2004
Anton Corbijn
The midwest in midwinter — what rock star would go there willingly? Oh, and spend three days on a bus, stopping to visit newspaper editors and speaking in drafty college auditoriums and grabbing meals at truck stops and sleeping in hotels where a suite means a door that opens between rooms?
Bono. Just Bono.
I went along on this trip, the better to write about Ashley Judd, Bono’s pal and co-conspirator in the struggle to get the United States to fight AIDS more aggressively in Africa. The goal was $15 billion. This caravan through the heartland was the propaganda piece; later would come the lobbying in Washington.
Bus travel is tiring, even in decent weather; I’d wager that most of those on this trip dozed as much as I did. Not Bono. He was on the cell phone early and late, talking up the cause. He gave firebrand speeches all day and night, then shmoozed with rich supporters until the wee hours. His clothes were grimy. He was, after a day or so, as gray as your cat. But he kept on….
Bono must have $200 million stashed away by now. He doesn’t need to master every fact about disease and debt in Africa. Or, for that matter, start the business he’s just announced — Red — which will see him partner with Armani, American Express and Converse to sell T-shirts and sunglasses. Naturally, some of the profits will fund Bono’s causes.
Why does he do it? Bono is an Irish Catholic of the old school — a priest who missed a traditional vocation and found, instead, a global pulpit. The stadium is his cathedral; the CD is his sermon. For 25 years, he and his bandmates have preached their gospel so effectively that any Pope would be proud to wear his sunglasses.
So when Bono says his new company is a bet on "conscious consumers," we know what that means: people who would rather save lives (and the planet) than get caught up in debates about the age of dinosaur bones. People with soul. People who listen to U2.
That’s a lot of people, for U2 attracts everyone from aging boomers to college kids. U2 may not generate much traditional rock and roll sex appeal, but if you’ve ever seen them in concert and looked around after a song like ‘In the Name of Love,’ they sure bring out the idealism — and the tears. When it’s time to strike a match or hold up a lighter, a U2 concert is totally the place to be.
Anton Corbijn is a Dutch photographer who got his start when he borrowed a camera from his father, a minister. He’s a stealth artist — he shows up with one camera and no crew, makes jokes, puts everyone at ease. He knows his place; this is not Vanity Fair’s Annie Leibowitz, who gets great pictures by showing up with a huge crew, a big idea and a reputation as big as a house.
‘Technically I don’t think I’m very advanced,’ he says. ‘That never interested me." So a Corbijn picture means available light. A subject often caught in his most serious moment. Like Joan Didion when she was a reporter, he blends in until he’s almost forgotten. And then, when he senses it’s the right moment, he takes pictures of stunning intimacy.
It’s not hard to see why the New Music Express assigned him to take pictures of U2 in l982. Or why the band kept him around for 25 years. He got that they wanted to be huge stars. And that they knew stardom was ridiculous. And that Bono’s banter was just cover for a heart as big as the sky.
Now comes Corbijn’s book. Big, black-and-white pictures of the band at every stage. Funny, hand-written captions. 400 pages. 7.4 pounds. Make sure your coffee table isn’t flimsy.
This is an important book for U2 fans; it puts you in rooms you’ll never enter on your own. (Julia Roberts chatting up Bono on the tour plane — that tells a story, doncha think?) But this book matters for a more important reason: Anton Corbijn is a big factor in the band’s success. Stardom requires iconography. Well, Corbijn took the pictures that established U2 as iconic. As you flip the pages, you can see the process.
What makes the book especially worthwhile is that you see how celebrity hasn’t ruined these guys. I love Bono, the morning after a long night with Bill Clinton in pre-election 1992, playing the piano in his bathrobe and shades. And the portrait of Bono in a bubble-filled bath, pretending to be a rock star. And the shots of the band in foreign cities, not quite tourists, not quite gods. And the guys with their fathers. And in drag. And in costumes that render them quite ridiculous.
You can never really know a star, as much as the star may want you to feel you do know him; there’s always something mysterious and private in the mix. It’s too easy to say that Bono’s life and work is a quest to make right a tragedy that occurred when he was 15 — while his mother was at her father’s funeral, she died of a brain aneurysm. The world is full of orphans; there’s only one Bono.
A friend gave this book to us. She, like us, is a big U2 fan. But that, as her note said, wasn’t the reason. It was the emotions that inform the music and surround the band — the aura of goodness and warmth and possibility. These emotions, she noted, feel unique. The beauty part, she said, is that they’re so easily shared.
This is a book to share. And dream on.
To buy ‘U2 & I: The Photographs 1982-2004’ from Amazon.com, click here.
To buy ‘U2: The Best of 1980-1990’ from Amazon.com, click here.
To buy ‘U2: The Best of 1990-2000’ from Amazon.com, click here.
To buy ‘U2: How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb’ from Amazon.com, click here.
To buy the Apple 20 GB iPod U2 Special Edition from Amazon.com, click here.
To buy Wraparound Sunglasses like Bono’s, click here.
