Online photographer communities are currently abuzz with talk of a new name to add to the pantheon of great street photographers: Vivian Maier. Vivian Maier was an obscure nanny, born in France and living in Chicago during the second half of the 20th century. For the balance of her adult life, she spent her spare moments stalking the streets of Chicago with a Rolliflex or Leica, seeking out unique perspectives and telling exchanges. She produced more than 100,000 negative images in her lifetime, but printed only a fraction and left about a quarter of her film undeveloped when she passed away in 2009. She was described as solitary by those who knew her, and did not share her work. Just before her death, John Maloof, a Chicago real estate agent, discovered a large collection of her negatives at an antiques auction. He noticed that the negatives featured the city of Chicago, and thought the images might be useful for a book he was working on. At the time, Mr. Maloof had little background in photography, but as he studied and scanned the negatives, it became apparent to him that Ms. Maier’s work was something extraordinary. When he posted some of the images to Flickr, Mr. Maloof set off a series of events that would bring this brilliant photographer’s work to international attention. Now, a book and film are in the works, and important photographic institutions worldwide are taking serious notice. This once-unknown nanny from Chicago is now being spoken of in the same breath as greats such as Robert Frank and Garry Winogrand.

Self portrait by Vivian Maier, courtesy of John Maloof

There are various theories floating around as to why Ms. Maier’s work languished in obscurity for so long. It seems clear that she was an intensely private person, who jealously guarded her personal space and made no effort to share her work with acquaintances. Some have suggested that either sexism or fear of sexism kept her from pursuing greater recognition during her lifetime, although there is little evidence to support this. It is telling, however, that she left so much of her work undeveloped and unprinted. It suggests to me that for her, photography might not have just been a process by which one produces prints.

Image by Vivian Maier, courtesy of John Maloof

For many artists, the act of creation goes hand in hand with the desire to communicate. Personally, I have always associated art with communication, to the point where I typically evaluate art upon its ability to share the unique perspective of the artist. Whether musician, painter, or photographer one typically sees a drive to share one’s creations with others. But in this model of the artistic process, what must one think of the solitary artist, who toils at her work with no desire for others to experience it? And further, what does it mean for an artist to leave her work in such a state where even she cannot experience it directly?

Image by Vivian Maier, courtesy of John Maloof

This story draws me toward a concept of photography as an art more analogous to the practice of martial arts than one inextricably linked to the act of creation of a thing. For instance, in the practice of Kyudo (Japanese Archery), the goal is not primarily to hit the target, but rather the pursuit of Truth, Goodness, and Beauty. It is believed by practitioners of Kyudo that the discipline and mental preparation for the archery is its own reward, and that actually striking one’s arrow into the target is simply the inevitable physical expression of a greater truth. Thus it might be strange to see a practitioner of Kyudo who felt that the primary purpose of her art was to create a target full of arrows.

Image by Vivian Maier, courtesy of John Maloof

Returning to photography for a moment, it is fascinating to consider the idea that perhaps Ms. Maier did not use her camera as a tool to create prints. Rather, she may have viewed the practice of photography as a disciplined methodology by which one might teach herself to see in a highly developed manner. Perhaps for her, the use of a camera was more of a meditative act by which she might crystallize and refine her worldview. Cartier-Bresson was known to comment that for him, his work was done after he clicked the shutter: perhaps Ms. Maier’s methodology is the logical extension of the philosophy where all that matters is the recognition of the decisive moment. The moment is recognized and the photographer achieves a sense of communion with it in the instant the shutter clicks open, and a fine image later is at most secondary to the exercise of perception. In this philosophy, the perfect realization of the practice might be photography in which the camera is no longer necessary.

Image by Vivian Maier, courtesy of John Maloof

I am a results-oriented person, and I tend to value the tangible as a physical guarantee of authenticity. I have an inherent bias that the purpose of photography is to produce prints, and the purpose of prints is to communicate my worldview to others. It is intensely foreign to me to consider a practice of photography that is less about what it produces in the “real” world and more about what it produces in the photographer, in the same way that I cannot imagine picking up a bow and arrow without my primary purpose being to strike the target.

Image by Vivian Maier, courtesy of John Maloof

Of course all of this is speculation, and may have nothing to do with Vivian Maier’s actual reasons for working the way she did. However, in a world that increasingly values ends above means, and in which the method of production is irrelevant compared to its finished product, it is perhaps instructive to consider that in any activity, the effects of what we do are often secondary to the effects on ourselves of how it is done.

If you would like to learn more about Vivian Maier, you can do so at http://vivianmaier.blogspot.com/. Thank you to John Maloof for permitting me to re-post these images.