In graduate school I rented a cheap two-bedroom house in desperate need of a paint job and an inside-out cleaning. On the bottom shelf of the dining room closet I found a Polaroid with “Junebug” written across the bottom. My roommate and I assumed it was the nickname of one of the three people in the photo, all decked out in what we imagined to be their Saturday-night finest. We were enchanted by them, but with so little to go on, we had to invent a history for them. The picture was displayed prominently on our bookshelf, and when we moved I returned Junebug to the closet, hoping the next occupant would find the same delight in his discovery.
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While some people have such experiences rarely if at all, others actively seek them out. Other People’s Pictures, a documentary by Lorca Shepperd and Cabot Philbrick making its Chicago premiere this coming Thursday, is about nine of those sorts. The filmmakers follow them through the Chelsea Flea Market in New York City to offer an engrossing look into the world of photo collectors captivated by homemade images of people they will never meet.
One woman, probably in her 40s, says she looks for snapshots of “strong women with attitude” from the 1920s and ’30s. These might include women behind the wheel of a car or a tractor, or smoking, or cross-dressing. Other people collect old square Kodacolor prints, or pictures where the shadow of the photographer ended up in the frame. Yet others look for accidentally alluring compositions.
Other People’s Pictures
