Man Ray took this photograph of my father in 1946, in his UNRRA 'lieutenant general' topcoat. Knowing that Father rarely took any action that did not hold a symbolic meaning, I was sure this Man Ray photograph contained some hidden intent. It is important because it represents a collaboration between Man Ray and George Hodel to create what Man Ray believed all his photos would become — works of art. Therefore, the object that my father is embracing in the photograph takes on a great significance both to him and to Man Ray.
A Tibetan deity and one of the most complex divinities of the Lamaistic pantheon, Yamantaka is a powerful nine-headed god whose primary head is that of a bull. Yamantaka's manifestation is purportedly so terrible that he is said to have overpowered Yama, god of death, roughly equivalent to Satan or the ruler of the underworld. In this particular statue, Yamantaka is shown in what is termed the 'yab-yum' position, performing sexual intercourse with his consort.
In the photograph, Father, in what appears to be a state of worshipful reverence, looks as if he's transfixed by Yamantaka. Like Yamantaka, George Hodel believed he was omnipotent and, as a doctor, could overthrow death. He also believed he was sexually omnipotent, and inflicted this belief upon all the women he met, including his own daughter; thus the choice of Yamantaka in the act of sexual intercourse. For Man Ray, the fascination of Yamantaka is the bull-headed deity itself, the Lamaistic counterpart to Man Ray's own destroyer of maidens, the
In this portrait of my father embracing Yamantaka, both Man Ray and my father juxtapose their own representations of omnipotence, sexuality, and dominance over death itself. But the portrait goes beyond juxtaposition; it is an objectification of all the elements that define their relationship to each other and to the visions they shared.
There is, in addition, a secondary deviant psychology that I believe also explains the way Elizabeth's body was posed. The Black Dahlia crime scene was a kind of flowering in my father's mind of the kinds of scenes he had written about as a young crime reporter in the 1920s, when, I believe, the early seeds of his violent sexual visions were first sown.
Further, Father worshiped and identified with Charles Baudelaire, whom he read and studied in the original French. It is likely that Father read these words, from Baudelaire's
I believe I have already set down in my notes that Love greatly resembles an application of torture or a surgical operation. But this idea can be developed, and in the most ironic manner. For even when two lovers love passionately and are full of mutual desire, one of the two will always be cooler or less self-abandoned than the other. He or she is the surgeon or executioner; the other, the patient or victim.
2
Finally, there is exhibit 40 in comparison with Father's original two photographs of Elizabeth (exhibit 7). I call it 'The Dream.' Taken in 1929, the photo portrays a gathering of the major surrealists in Paris, including Andre Breton, Rene Magritte, Max Ernst, and Salvador Dali. Each member of the group has formally posed for his portrait with his eyes closed, affirming his support and preference for the subjective dream state in defiance of the conscious and rational.
Exhibit 40
In the 1920s, Andre Breton became the spokesman for surrealism and wrote the movement's first manifesto in 1924. His stated philosophy relating to the importance of dreams and the state of sleep is described in that original manifesto:
The mind of the man who dreams is fully satisfied by what happens to him. The agonizing question of possibility is no longer pertinent. Kill, fly faster, love to your heart's content. And if you should die, are you not certain of reawaking among the dead? Let yourself be carried along, events will not tolerate your interference. You are nameless. The ease of everything is priceless . . .
I believe in the future resolution of these two states, dream and reality, which are seemingly so contradictory, into a kind of absolute reality, a
if one may so speak.
3
My father's most revealing thoughtprints are those two damning photos of Elizabeth Short, as seen on page 41 as exhibit 7. Here again the artist/photographer has signed his work, only this one was private and was meant to remain so.
In these photographs of his lover, George Hodel reveals his esoteric 'marriage' to Elizabeth Short by personally initiating her into his world. After carefully posing her in both photographs, Father instructs Elizabeth to close her eyes, as if she is asleep or in a dream state. With his lens, he then captures the dream, transporting her to his world, the world of the surreal, where dreams are reality, where the rational and the conscious are only backgrounds and are reversed to become the shadows of unreality.
True to his philosophy, George Hodel remained the absolute surrealist throughout his life, the young poet of seventeen, described in the newspaper of his day:
George drowned himself at times in an ocean of deep dreams. Only part of him seemed present. He would muse standing before one in a black, flowered dressing gown lined with scarlet silk, oblivious to one's presence.
Add to that his published statement to the police at the time of his 1949 arrest for incest that he was 'delving into the mystery of love and the universe,' and that the acts of which he was then accused were 'unclear, like a dream. I can't figure out whether someone is hypnotizing me or I am hypnotizing someone.'
And finally, Father's 'Parable of the Sparrows' letter of 1980, with its mystical questioning:
