"I feel a responsibility to my backyard. I want it to be taken care of and protected"
About this Quote
Leibovitz’s line sounds domestic on purpose: “my backyard” is a small, almost quaint phrase from a woman whose career has been built on photographing the world’s most public faces. That contrast is the point. A celebrity portrait can feel like ownership-by-proxy: you point a lens, you “capture” someone, you convert their image into cultural currency. Here, she flips the direction of obligation. Instead of treating the world as raw material, she frames it as a place she belongs to and owes something back.
The intent is less Hallmark stewardship than a professional ethic in plain clothes. Photographers are always negotiating access and extraction: who gets depicted, who benefits, what gets consumed and discarded. “Taken care of and protected” reads like a corrective to the industry’s tendency to aestheticize without accountability. It’s also a subtle nod to the environmental and civic anxieties of the late 20th and early 21st century, when “think global, act local” became a moral posture for people with platforms. Leibovitz isn’t offering policy; she’s staking out a scale: start where your feet are.
There’s subtext, too, about legacy. Leibovitz’s archive will outlast her; the backyard won’t, unless someone actively tends it. The sentence’s simplicity works because it refuses grandiosity while quietly asserting authority: she’s not just an observer. She’s a participant with a duty of care, insisting that looking closely should lead to guarding what you’ve been looking at.
The intent is less Hallmark stewardship than a professional ethic in plain clothes. Photographers are always negotiating access and extraction: who gets depicted, who benefits, what gets consumed and discarded. “Taken care of and protected” reads like a corrective to the industry’s tendency to aestheticize without accountability. It’s also a subtle nod to the environmental and civic anxieties of the late 20th and early 21st century, when “think global, act local” became a moral posture for people with platforms. Leibovitz isn’t offering policy; she’s staking out a scale: start where your feet are.
There’s subtext, too, about legacy. Leibovitz’s archive will outlast her; the backyard won’t, unless someone actively tends it. The sentence’s simplicity works because it refuses grandiosity while quietly asserting authority: she’s not just an observer. She’s a participant with a duty of care, insisting that looking closely should lead to guarding what you’ve been looking at.
Quote Details
| Topic | Nature |
|---|---|
| Source | Help us find the source |
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