I'm as much a Beatles fan as anybody else I suppose. Which is to say I appreciate their music obviously but I definitely don't consider myself a well studied, ardent fan by any means. I am, however, very into the photographs that document much of their time as a band towards the end of their time together. Those photographs are some of the most interesting because as photo subjects, the end years are them at their most varied. It's each of them breaking away from the group narrative and telling their own story in the pictures. Maybe not quite on their own terms yet but closer to it anyway. Written all over their faces. In their hair. In the wardrobe. The homogeneity of a British boy band birthed out of 1960 has melted away so that what we see by the time August of 1969 comes around, when they are photographed out on Lennon's estate by Ethan Russell and Monte Fresco, is a group of individuals, fully formed, embodying more of who I think they wanted to be as young men (the oldests of the group - John and Ringo - were not yet 30 and the youngest - George - would have been only 26). Is there tension there? Sure. You can see that. But I think what's also there is a far more evolved sense of self in all of them. Something forged in the fires of all they'd lived, seen and worked through. Right or wrong, uncomfortable or not, it belonged to them and I think they had earned their right to carry it however they wanted to at that point. I loved this particular photo shoot ahead of their release of the last two albums they'd ever make together (Abbey Road and Let It Be). So I wanted to offer up a nod to them in my own way, with my sister. Because we have our own things forged through our own fires. And because we get to carry them how we choose to as well. Photo shoot staged by me with assist from Alex Street. 2024.
