Finding Wisdom

Have any of you seen Woody Allen’s latest movie, Midnight in Paris? Owen Wilson’s character encounters all his heroes in the bars and salons of 1920s Paris, and drinks in their personalities, philosophies, and advice first hand.

I recently had my own Midnight in Paris moment when I happened upon a photography exhibit in the Galleria at BCE Place (or Brookfield Place, or Hamburglar Place, or whatever the heck they’re calling it these days). The project is called Wisdom, and is a combination of a book, an exhibit of portraits, a film, and a web site (http://www.wisdombook.org/) by photographer and filmmaker Andrew Zuckerman that features the images and words of a selection of the world’s elders. Unfortunately, due to my usual propensity for arriving on the scene at the Very Last Minute, the exhibit had actually wrapped up the day before, and was in the process of being disassembled. Along with the book, only twenty or so famous faces were still on display, while their confrères, sandwiched together on nearby dollies, waited patiently, staring out of their heavy travel frames next to a bored young security guard.

As Zuckerman says, these are the elders of the global village, and he was struck with the idea that he should record the “gift” of their thoughts, advice, and yes, wisdom, for the next generation. With the help of Desmond Tutu, who wrote letters to 200 prospective participants worldwide, Zuckerman tracked down the 70 or so who agreed to sit for him (I believe 50 of those are part of the exhibit). Membership in this club was restricted to over-65s. The late Edward Kennedy is here, as is Jane Goodall, Nelson Mandela (natch), and Billy Connolly. I will confess that there are many I don’t know, which taught me my first lesson: that I am ignorant of many of these great thinkers and doers.

Each large portrait was shot against a featureless white background, which Zuckerman says “democratizes the environment,” and therefore, his subjects. The faces are full of crags, droops, and character, of course. Andrew Wyeth looks like someone left him sitting out on a too-hot day. Kissinger’s eyes are so hooded he seems to be struggling to stay awake. But there are some notable exceptions. They may have wrinkles and white hair, and again, this may say more about my recent shift in, ahem, priorities, than about senior hunks, but a fair number of these guys have still got it goin’ on, as the kids say—at least in my eyes.

There’s Redford, of course. (Sigh. It’s always been you, Bob, since I was 14.) But man, check out the shots of Clint Eastwood, or Kristofferson, or wow, Graham Nash! Am I crazy, or are these guys hot? I think it’s their intensity. And obvious intelligence. And possibly, good hair. It seems the artists of various stripes fare the best as they navigate the “third act,” as Sir Michael Parkinson calls it. (He’s one I had to look up. He’s a British journalist and broadcaster, played himself interviewing Bill Nighy’s character in Love, Actually, which I own, and is apparently not too enamored of the current state of British TV, saying: “In my television paradise there would be no more property programmes, no more police-chasing-yobbos-in-cars programmes and, most of all and please God, no more so-called documentary shows with titles like My 20-Ton Tumour, My Big Fat Head, Wolf Girl, Embarrassing Illnesses, and The Fastest Man on No Legs.” I’d say amen to that, but then what would I watch?)

Each of these artists, musicians, and leaders of men in the exhibit is accompanied by a quote, a transcribed sound bite from the interviews Zuckerman conducted as part of the sessions. He asked everyone questions that touched on the same set of themes: love, work, the environment, conflict resolution, and of course, wisdom. I’m with Dame Judi Dench, who noted that she has “gotten sillier” as she’s aged, and therefore hasn’t the foggiest when it comes to sharing any pearls of wisdom.

The young security guard probably won’t pay much attention to the sage words of these cultural icons. The young always know better. But maybe a few of his elders’ whispered ruminations will sneak past those ear buds, such as, “Take risks,” “You can’t get to wonderful without passing through all right,” “Inspiration is for amateurs,” and “Your best work is your expression of yourself...when you do it, you’re the only expert in it.”

So I don’t know about the security guard, or the tourists streaming through the space-formerly-known-as BCE Place, or even you, but these are things I need to hear right now, the advice I need to take. Thank you Andrew Zuckerman, and thank you, elders.