I love Annie Leibovitz. How couldn't you? She's nothing short of one of the most phenomenal chroniclers of our times.
So when I read in the New York Times this weekend that Ms. Leibovitz's financial problems --- news of which has been circling the media for a year now --- were so serious she could actually lose her homes in Manhattan and upstate New York as well as the rights to much of her work, my heart sank for her. Annie Leibovitz? The Vanity Fair photographer known for some of the most incredible photography the world has ever seen? No way. Annie Leibovitz and the description "struggling artist" can't even be mentioned in the same hemisphere. So I thought.
But apparently it's real. Last month Leibovitz was reportedly sued in State Supreme Court for nonpayment of a $24 million loan. The company, which lent her the money --- Art Capital ---- wants to begin proceedings to sell the homes to satisfy Ms. Leibovitz's debt.
I first fell in love with Ms. Leibovitz's work back in 1991 when the girl I was dating at the time gave me a copy of Annie Leibovitz Photographs 1970 - 1990 as a Christmas present. I treasure it to this day. It's a masterpiece of Americana at is finest: a portrait of John Lennon; a young Jackson Browne on tour; Bob Dylan in Hollywood watering his grass; a half-clothed Divine in his dressing room; Richard Nixon's resignation captured on a television, Bette Midler in a bed of roses; Tammy Wynette holding her baby, a big Cadillac behind her; Vietnam veteran Ron Kovic; the Rolling Stones on stage. You name them. Annie has gotten them on film.
As an African American, I particularly couldn't have been more proud of her ability to capture in that book many of the biggest black icons of all time: Louis Armstrong, his trumpet at his lips as he sat in his Queens home; Sly Stone in a white car on Highway 5 in California; an all too smooth Muhammad Ali lying down on a red staircase dressed in black; then there's Ella Fitzgerald, Ray Charles, Richard Pryor, Sammy Davis Jr., Miles Davis, Magic Johnson, Jesse Norman, and a regal King of Pop Michael Jackson.
My very favorite photograph in the book, however, is the one of the Rev. Al Sharpton seated under a hairdryer in beauty parlor in Brooklyn, rollers in hair and all. Classic. I mean, anyone who can get Rev. Al to let them shoot him getting his famous "do" done, is a genius.
That Ms. Leibovitz's could find herself in such dire straits seems rather sad. But one thing the current financial crisis has taught us is that no one is completely immune to fiscal hardship. This downturn has become one of the great equalizers of our time. God only knows whom all of the vulnerable are among us.
What Ms. Leibovitz's precarious lot tells us is that we writers, painters, singers and dancers must realize that we are in the arts, media and entertainment BUSINESS. That means that there's a bottom line component to our craft and to our lives. And to the extent we operate as if we are just artists not beholden to the tenets of the biggest capitalistic system on the planet, we will perish; the vultures will come to make your grave. I pray Ms. Leibovitz's is the winner in this ordeal.
Ultimately, I do hope Ms. Leibovitz has a circle of friends who will love her through this crisis whether she loses her homes and the rights to her work or not. She will need love to deal with the loss. God knows the monsters will take their shots. It reminds me of that Bobby Womack song, "Nobody Wants You When You're Down and Out." That can be all too real in our sometimes cruel world.
So offer to babysit. Cook her a meal. Send her flowers. Handwritten notes are nice. Call her. Love her.
And for those of us who love her work and those who will once they see it, now might be a good time to buy an Annie Leibovitz book. Support this incredible artist during this bump on the road. Trust me, you will not be disappointed.