Two years have passed since I donned a pink suit and made portraits of myself as an Easter bunny. I distributed a variety of wallet sized copies to church goers as a surprise gift on Easter morning. They were received with great excitement and I still find them on posted on the refrigerators of my parishioners.
This year, I had the idea to make a new Easter portrait—something unique to distribute to the Easter worshippers. I toyed with different concepts: angels, Mary Magdalene, the empty tomb. Each idea presented its own respective visual challenges and narratives, but I knew once I settled upon a topic I would find a way to produce my intended result.
Wandering around town building my McGregor portfolio, I met a young man named Jeremy who tends bar at a local pub. His trademark is long hair and beard. Well, my mind started to whir. One evening I asked him if he has ever been typecast as Jesus, to which he replied, “Oh yeah I get that a lot!”
My question was a proving ground, for when I discovered that not only has he been associated with the classical or assumed characteristics of Jesus, Jeremy seemed to take no particular offense at the connection or at least he was indifferent to the notion. Sometime after that conversation, I began seriously entertaining the notion of producing an Easter portrait of the Resurrected Christ.
So I began planning my strategy. All I’d need to do is convince Jeremy to model for me, then raid the Sunday school wardrobe for the right costume. Nothing is ever as simple as we would like and getting a hold of this guy proved a most engaging task, even in a small town. It occurred to me that I didn’t know much about him: I didn’t have his number, know where he lived or even have any idea what his last name was. So I put the word out amongst his friends and associates that I was looking for him. I didn’t stop to think that perhaps the notion of a Christian minister in search of bartender would send any weird connotations at all. As far as I was concerned I was a photographer seeking to secure a model for a photo session.
I had every intention of producing the photo in February, but strangely Jeremy vanished. I just couldn’t seem to find him anywhere and no one was talking. At this point, I was beginning to call the idea off, assuming he was dodging me. It turns out, however, that he out of town. When I caught glimpse of him upon his return, I was dismayed to see he’d shaved his beard entirely off. He was of no use to me at all now. I was incensed that he’d unknowingly dashed my great plan.
I gave up in frustration, thinking this year’s Easter portrait was not possible. Less than two weeks later, however, I spied Jeremy on his balcony and saw the distinct shadow of a new beard. My plan was back in play. This time I wasn’t going to mess about. On one of our daily walks, Laura and I finally found the way to his apartment and stormed him at home where we told him our intentions, laid out the background and set our date. Not only was he available, he seemed enthusiastic about playing the messiah.
I had everything worked out in my mind: my lighting scheme, the costume; I even had Laura on hand to style hair. On the day of the shoot, the studio (a.k.a. basement) was ready and Jeremy was late. Deflated again. I was so close to finished this project, but without the main character it is a slight bit difficult. I kept looking out the window for him. I couldn’t imagine anyone loosing his way in this town—it’s a walk up the street!
Laura said: “That’s it, you stay here, I’ll go to his apartment. I’ll drag him here if necessary.”
I don’t know how these things work, but as she set out towards Jeremy’s apartment he rounded the corner, on his bicycle, from the opposite direction. As he attempted to ride pass our home, I manically called to him from the door. I he turned around parked his bike and entered.
The photo session was great: filled with energy and laughs. We tried out a number of different poses. Two ministers shouting biblical references at a beleaguered model attempting play the messiah is trying at best, but Jeremy followed our leads, and summoned a presence of mind and spirit to inhabit the core of his part. He even allowed his hair to be put in hot rollers. I think he did fantastically well.
When the session was complete. I assured Jeremy that he would be receive prints, but not until Easter as I did not want to ruin the surprise for anyone. After he departed we were then saddled with task of choosing the final image. Proofing is never easy and we had a number of poses: iconic, humorous, kitsch, classical. Finding our choice wasn’t easy. However, we settled on the shot seen at the top of this blog post (double click it for a larger view). This image was deeply compelling to us.We applied a few post-processing touches to give the photo a vintage feel, proceed to arrange for our prints then sit back and wait for Easter. When the day arrived, which seemed like forever, I placed a 16x20 print of the photo at the front of the sanctuary and arranged to have the ushers distribute magnets, bearing the image along with the inscription: First Congregational Church of McGregor.
The response to this Easter portrait was very different than my 2007 Bunny. My resurrected Christ was barely received. Hmm…what went wrong? At the close of worship I casually asked one parishioner if she had taken a magnet. She wrinkled her nose and shook her head.
“I don’t like the photo.” She said, “I think it’s creepy.” She looked at the magnet again and confirmed her feelings—the pose did not strike her as an inviting or trustworthy Christ. Another parishioner, bolster by the first woman’s boldness, concurring that she, too, thought the image was off-putting.
I visited the matter with Laura after church and we came to the mutual conclusion that no one is ever good enough to play Jesus, in any form. It’s too lofty a role—too iconic and legendary a figure to be entrusted to the average person. No graven image is the one commandment we tend to take seriously when it comes to representing Jesus.
In a very real sense, this man, who purportedly gave his life for us and encouraged us to walk in his steps, has transcended us to such a degree that we have become keepers of his lofty image by prohibiting others from inhabiting it. Have we made Jesus—the incarnate one—too inaccessible? Has he become out of reach to the ordinary person? Perhaps this image I’ve created is more controversial than I’d ever intended it to be.
On Easter night, I had one more duty to fulfill. I took the remaining magnets and handed them to available patrons in every open tavern in town. The reception in the pubs was quite different from the one in church. The magnets were received with joy and enthusiasm, mostly because they knew the model. But I think it was also because Jeremy had allowed them to see Christ in a new way. He had made the Messiah a more tangible reality—if even for only a moment. It is my hope that receiving these magnets brought them a little closer to God on Easter Sunday.
- wg
Above is Jeremy looking at the images of himself as Jesus for the first time.
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