If you never thought you could find yourself in the same room as Truman Capote, Ingmar Bergman, and Stephen Sondheim, a visit to the Morgan Library and Museum will prove you wrong. Close Encounters: Irving Penn Portraits of Artists and Writers, on display until April 13, allow the viewer to truly feel the presence of over 60 great personalities of the artistic and literary world.

New Jersey-born and New York City-based Penn, considered one of the twentieth century’s best portrait photographers, has succeeded in immortalizing the personalities of many great minds, enabling the general public to engage in silent conversations with them. The portraits shown here span decades of Penn’s career—and decades of artistic and literary talent—from surrealist painter Giorgio de Chirico in Rome in 1944 to abstract expressionist Jasper Johns in New York in 2006.

As you walk into the small exhibition room, Jasper Johns confronts you with a wide-eyed stare. His brightly-lit head protrudes, almost turtle-like, out of slouching shoulders draped in black cloth. The raw intensity of his glare forces the viewer to stop and stare back at him. Although many of Penn’s other portraits are not as directly confrontational—Ingmar Bergman, for instance, even poses with his eyes closed—they are equally engaging and revealing.

Perhaps one of the most compelling portraits is of esteemed New Yorker cartoonist Saul Steinberg sitting on the ground with a pencil and pad of paper, looking up at the camera as if sketching the viewer. In one of Penn’s “corner portraits,” the author-socialite Truman Capote crouches childishly on a chair in a corner while tilting his head and sheepishly gazing at the viewer. Jorge Luis Borges deceptively looks directly at the viewer—the caption informs us that the author was blind when Penn took his portrait.

Although Penn used natural lighting and minimal sets for most of his portraits, he frequently experimented with framing. While sometimes capturing his subject’s entire body, some of Penn’s more interesting photos focus solely on the person’s face. One such portrait depicts Woody Allen dressed up as Charlie Chaplin—with the use of some make-up, a bowler hat, and a moustache, Penn manages to fool the viewer.

Described by exhibit curator Peter Barberie as “the Morgan’s first major acquisition of photography,” it is impossible to think of a more appropriate home for these photographs. As if to assert this point, the Morgan took the opportunity to concurrently display various works—manuscripts, drawings, scores, and books—created by the very people Penn photographed.

After seeing their portraits, the visitor can look at relics such as Tennessee Williams’ diary (open to a fascinating page describing his encounter with a prostitute that afternoon), John Cage’s original manuscript score for “Three Dances for Two Prepared Pianos,” and a self-portrait by Chagall. On display in the Engelhard Gallery on the second floor, these and other tremendously-valuable supplements to Penn’s portraits should not be missed.

After viewing the exhibit, you might feel better-acquainted with some of these great minds. In the very least, next time you encounter the works of these artists and writers, Irving Penn’s captivating portraits of them will come to mind.