The artwork and gilded furniture from his Encino ranch are ungainly traditional pieces that look as if they were part of an old European family estate. His sequin- and rhinestone-embellished jackets are similarly exalted. They’re embellished with heraldic crests, crowns and swords, and military epaulets and trimming. Despite Jackson’s incredible success, he must have longed for the kind of prestige that came with royal lineage or military rank.
     Photos of Jackson’s stage apparel, like his sweat-stained tuxedo shirts and his scuffed Capezio dance shoes, bring out his physical vulnerability. He honed his awesome talents through constant practice and performance, which undoubtedly took a toll on his body and his health. Finally, there are his toys: statues of Captain Hook and Mickey Mouse, playing pieces from a cavalry-themed chess set, and a cardboard box filled with tiny Wizard of Oz figurines. These childish trinkets were obviously well-loved.
     Leutwyler photographs Jackson’s belongings with a strong flash against a black backdrop, with a richness and clarity that beautifies them without lapsing into sentimentality. The objects are displayed like the relics of a saint, venerable because of their connection to a great figure, and proof that he was once flesh and blood. That’s a portrait of Michael Jackson that he himself might not have wanted to see, but that those who cared about him do.