Peter Beard: A Life in the Wild — A Personal Reflection

I was interested in reading Braham Boynton’s biography of Peter Beard, Wild, primarily because of Beard’s deep connection to Africa. Africa, particularly its wildlife and its remaining wild places, has long held a fascination for me. I am also something of an amateur photographer, with a particular interest in wildlife photography. Beyond photography, I dabble in sketching and journaling, collect sporting art, and, as a former English literature major, have always enjoyed literature and the arts in their many forms. I also enjoy safari hunting in some of Africa’s last truly wild areas, particularly in East Africa, and have a strong interest in wildlife conservation and the complicated role that responsible hunting can play in maintaining that balance.

In other words, Peter Beard checks nearly every box when it comes to subjects that hold my interest.

I thoroughly enjoyed the book, and there is no question that Beard was an extraordinarily interesting person. Yet, after finishing it, I am still not entirely sure what to make of the man himself. Perhaps that ambiguity is one of the book’s strengths.

Beard seemed to live his entire life without much regard for conventional boundaries. His photography, journals, collages, drawings, writing, and fascination with Africa all seem inseparable from the way he lived. There was a wildness to him that undoubtedly contributed to his creativity. But that same wildness could also be enormously destructive. He was a serial womanizer, consumed vast quantities of drugs, was frequently fiscally irresponsible, and could be astonishingly reckless. At times, the portrait that emerges is almost that of a tortured soul. His behavior certainly makes one wonder whether there were serious underlying psychological issues, although it would be impossible and unfair to diagnose him retrospectively from a biography.

Perhaps part of my difficulty in deciding what I think of Beard comes from how different his personal life was from my own. I have been married to the same woman for 38 years and have spent my career as a financial advisor, a profession in which planning, discipline, responsibility, and an appreciation of consequences are rather important. I enjoy adventure and am willing to accept a certain amount of risk in pursuing it, particularly in the wild places of Africa, but I do not consider risk and recklessness to be the same thing. Nor does illegal substance abuse hold any appeal for me.

And yet, despite all of that, I came away thinking that I would have very much enjoyed meeting Peter Beard before he died. The book portrays him as charming, passionate, charismatic, and a remarkable conversationalist. I can imagine sitting with him for hours discussing Africa, photography, wildlife, art, literature, conservation, hunting, and the extraordinary people and places he encountered during his life. I suspect I would have found him fascinating while disagreeing with many of the choices he made.

That may ultimately be what I found most thought-provoking about the book. Appreciating someone's work does not require approving of the way he lived his life.

That is hardly a problem unique to Peter Beard. Anyone who spends much time reading about great novelists, poets, painters, photographers, and other creative figures eventually encounters the same uncomfortable contradiction. Some remarkable art has emerged from people whose private lives were chaotic, self-destructive, selfish, or deeply unconventional. It raises an interesting question: how much of the creativity can be separated from the chaos that helped produce it?

In Beard's case, I am not sure they can be completely separated. The same restless personality that drove him toward excess also seems to have driven him toward Africa, danger, beauty, photography, art, and relentless documentation of the world around him. His life appears to have been lived at full throttle, sometimes magnificently and sometimes disastrously.

I finished Boynton's biography with greater appreciation for Peter Beard the artist and photographer, considerable fascination with Peter Beard the adventurer and observer of Africa, and much more complicated feelings about Peter Beard the man. I admire his creative vision without wanting to emulate his life. Perhaps that is the most appropriate conclusion. We do not have to make our subjects into heroes in order to find them fascinating.

Peter Beard was certainly fascinating.