IN 1961, Imogene Cunningham saw an exhibit of the Richmond, California, primitive sculptor, John Roeder, and was so fascinated by what she saw that she spent two hours with him, scurrying around, climbing over bushes for more perceptive angles, photographing him and his work. It is reported that when Roeder saw the photographs, he burst into tears, because Miss Cunningham’s camera so intimately revealed him to himself.
It is a pity that these are not the photographs Miss Cunningham shows in Richmond, since the photographs exhibited here reveal no such dynamic rapport. They are rather formal and static; three of the eight, made from exactly the same point of view, show Roeder sitting with his hands folded—although the study of Roeder’s sculpture in the adjoining garden makes it appear unlikely that this pose is so typical that it should occupy such a large part of the show. His sculpture seems to have been made by a man whose hands are as restless as his imagination. This set of photographs does not represent either Miss Cunningham or Mr. Roeder at his best.
