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This book is a compilation of interviews and essays that cover a broad range of photographers and photographic disciplines. Each photographer profi led made a living by concentrating on a specifi c aspect of the craft, but in doing so transcended their livelihood to become recognized for more than the type of images they cre- ated. Each had a distinct “style,” creative approach, dedication to the craft, and point of view about themselves and the world. These interviews were conducted during a seminal period in the shift from fi lm to digital and from print reproduction to global distribution on the Internet. Just as their photographs continue to inspire today, now these pros’ words can live on as an invaluable reference for the photographers of the future. The truth and wisdom in this collection transcend time and technology.
• Features interviews with notable photographers including: Mary Ellen Mark, Carl Mydans, O. Winston Link, and Arnold Newman. • Covers a wide array of photographic fi elds such as photojournalism, fi ne art, and fashion.
George Schaub (Editor) is the editor at large at Shutterbug magazine. He has writ- Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 ten more than 20 books on photography and is an associate professor at the Parsons School of Design in New York City.
Grace Schaub (Author/Interviewer) was a photographer, artist, and writer who, throughout the latter part of the twentieth century, interviewed many of the most infl uential photographers of the time for various magazines including Photo Pro, Pho- tographer’s Forum, Camera Arts, and View Camera magazine. She was a faculty member in the photographic department at the New School University in New York City. This page intentionally left blank Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 20TH CENTURY PHOTOGRAPHERS
Interviews on the Craft, Purpose, and the Passion of Photography
Grace Schaub Edited by George Schaub Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 First published 2015 by Focal Press 70 Blanchard Road, Suite 402, Burlington, MA 01803 and by Focal Press 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN Focal Press is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2015 Taylor & Francis The right of Grace Schaub to be identifi ed as author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilized in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Notices Knowledge and best practice in this fi eld are constantly changing. As new research and experience broaden our understanding, changes in research methods, professional practices, or medical treatment may become necessary. Practitioners and researchers must always rely on their own experience and knowledge in evaluating and using any information, methods, compounds, or experiments described herein. In using such information or methods they should be mindful of their own safety and the safety of others, including parties for whom they have a professional responsibility. Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identifi cation and explanation without intent to infringe. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data 20th century photographers : interviews on the craft, purpose, and the passion of photography / [interviewed by] Grace Schaub ; editor, George Schaub. pages cm 1. Photographers—History—20th century—Interviews. 2. Photography— History—20th century. I. Schaub, Grace, interviewer. II. Schaub, George, editor. III. Title: Twentieth century photographers. TR139.A127 2015 770.92'2—dc23 2014029441 ISBN: 978-1-138-84095-9 (pbk) ISBN: 978-1-138-84096-6 (hbk) ISBN: 978-1-315-73212-1 (ebk) Typeset in Bembo By Apex CoVantage, LLC Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 CONTENTS
Introduction vii
1 J. Ross Baughman 1
2 Ruth Bernhard 11
3 Martha Casanave 25
4 Walter Chappell 31
5 Jodi Cobb 45
6 Van Deren Coke 55
7 Patrick Demarchelier 67 Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 8 Jody Dole 73
9 Peter Galassi 79
10 Bernard Gotfryd 87
11 Lois Greenfi eld 95
12 Douglas Kent Hall 99 vi Contents
13 George Kalinsky 107
14 Art Kane 115
15 Lewis Kemper 123
16 David Michael Kennedy 129
17 Douglas Kirkland 133
18 Arthur Leipzig 145
19 O. Winston Link 155
20 Sally Mann 161
21 Mary Ellen Mark 167
22 Hansel Mieth and Otto Hagel 173
23 Carl Mydans 181
24 William Neill 189
25 Arnold Newman 197
26 Gordon Parks 203
27 Fred Picker 215
28 Chris Rainier 223
29 Galen Rowell 231 Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 30 Rick Smolan and David Cohen 239
31 Joyce Tenneson 253
32 George Tice 259
33 Pete Turner 267
Index 275 INTRODUCTION
The interviews in this book cover a broad range of photographers and photo- graphic disciplines. Each photographer made a living by concentrating on a specifi c aspect of the craft, but in doing so transcended his or her livelihood to become recognized for more than the type of images that he or she created. They all had a distinct “style,” creative approach, dedication to the craft, point of view about them- selves and the world, and, for many, a unique ability to vigorously project themselves to a wider audience and clientele. These interviews were conducted during a seminal period in the transi- tion from fi lm to digital photography and, as importantly, from print, maga- zine, and book reproduction to worldwide distribution on the Internet. They reveal only hints of what was to come, and while a few interviews here touch on those who embraced this distribution, processing, and printing change wholeheartedly, albeit during its infant years, most were as yet to be infl uenced or persuaded by it. In a sense, these artists and reporters and recorders of the world around them worked prior to or right on the cusp of these monumental changes. These interviews can be thought of as historical documents, especially when Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 photographers such as Carl Mydans or Gordon Parks talk about the FSA (Farm Security Administration), or when O. Winston Link describes in detail his lighting setups for his amazing record of the end of the age of steam railroads. As such they become resources for study, and hopefully inspiration, for photographers today. A number of the interviews reveal the state of the photographic world from the middle to the end of the twentieth century. They give us a snapshot of a world gone by, although the dedication and sense of craft revealed throughout are as important now as they were then. As you read through this text, you can also get a sense of how these photographers came up “through the ranks” and what it took for them to achieve their goals and vision. viii Introduction
What for me is most impressive about this collection is not the debate about fi lm versus digital, or how technology affects the creation and publication of work. (Too much debate about these matters today recalls the old joke about Hemingway and Faulkner arguing about their favorite typewriters.) Rather, they go to the heart of the craft of photography, the overriding importance of vision and point of view, and the sense that the work was something more than a way to make a living, that it was a calling in which those engaged in the work understood what came before and how their work might fi t into a legacy of photographic images that would survive into the future. This was not a pretentious stance, although some photographers are not shy about themselves or their work, but rather one that came from a sense of visual literacy, of understanding what came before, and how photography could affect and change the world around them. One of the interesting aspects of the work of these photographers was their “curation” by editors, art directors, corporations, gallery owners, publishers, and at times organizations concerned with propaganda or social causes. These editors were the gatekeepers of what got published and what didn’t in sometimes very competi- tive fi elds. Although one could ascribe various motives to this culling and curating of images, there is no question that it took an understanding of that infrastructure to get work published. These interviews include an underlying revelation of those environments and how each photographer dealt with them and, to me, describe the medium from the point of view of those who worked within and, sometimes, outside it. Today, the Internet allows publication of every image made, in stark con- trast to how photographers dealt with the distribution of their work and how they made their living in the past. But this book is not meant to be a lament for an age gone by but more a celebra- tion of the work and times and struggles of the photographers who helped defi ne it. As I read through the interviews I am struck by the thoughtfulness and sense of purpose, the craft and the transformation of activity to intention of each of the photographers interviewed. All of them have left us (and in many cases still create) bodies of work that will come to represent their profound infl uence on photogra- phy and on the understanding of who we are by revealing how we looked, acted, and interacted in times gone by.
Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 Notes on the Interviews and Organization While the interviews could have been organized according to what might have ended up being a facile categorization (for example, placing Arnold Newman under “portraitist”), I thought it best simply to place them in alphabetical order. One reason for this is that while there are clear demarcations of how each photog- rapher paid the rent in terms of outlets or discipline, the work often transcended the “genre.” A brief biography accompanies each interview. One of the advantages of the Internet today is that images from most of those interviewed are readily avail- able for perusal, and I encourage the reader to take advantage of that resource as well as those in galleries, museums, collections, and books. Introduction ix
These interviews were conducted for magazine articles in various publications, including Camera Arts, Photo Pro, View Camera, and Photographer ’s Forum. They appeared in print with extensive portfolios of images, chosen by Grace and the photographers as prime examples of their work. Four of the articles in this book were originally published as essays, and I have left them in that format. They were based upon interviews, and the reader may note that there are extensive quotes from the photographer throughout each. The conversion to essay format was usu- ally at the request of the magazine’s editor. In editing these interviews, I and Focal Press worked from the full text of the article submitted to the magazine, and to my knowledge, most if not all of the articles were never archived on the Web. Some magazines published the full text and others cut them down somewhat for length’s sake. I have not changed any of the questions or answers as published or submitted.
Grace Schaub My wife Grace brought an artistic and knowledgeable photographic eye and ear to the interviews. Her fi rst interview, done as an assignment while she was getting her MFA in arts education from New York University, was with Larry Rivers, the renowned painter. When she began doing these interviews with photographers she brought her sensitivity to the arts and artistic training into the mix, and she quickly established a rapport with each of them, many of whom became lifelong friends. Her own photography and painting adorns the walls of our house and those of her family and friends and collectors who purchased them through galleries and art shows. She was not only a talented artist and writer; her charm and enthusiasm for the work comes through in the intimate conversations that I hear on the tapes. Grace passed away in late 2012 after a long struggle with multiple myeloma, yet prior to her passing she made sure that the work here was organized and preserved. This book, then, is a testament and tribute to her life and her work, and at the same time serves as a record of the words and thoughts of many of the most infl uential photographers of the late twentieth century, the likes of whom we are unlikely to see again. I trust that it will serve as a path to a deeper understanding of their work and their thinking, and along the way inspire photographers and those who aspire to more deeply appreciate and understand these practitioners of the craft and their Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 visual legacy.
George Schaub Taos, New Mexico October 2014 This page intentionally left blank Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 1 J. ROSS BAUGHMAN
Photographer’s Forum , November 1989
While still a journalism student at Kent State University in 1974, J. Ross Baugh- man (b. 1953) received his fi rst major award in photography, the J. Winton Lemen Photojournalism Scholarship from the National Press Photographers Associa- tion. He graduated in 1975 and two years later received a fi rst-place award for Investigative Reporting from the Associated Press Managing Editors (Ohio) for a fi ve-part series, “The Nazis in America.” In 1978, Baughman was awarded the Pulitzer Prize in Journalism for Feature Photography for his portfolio on Zimba- bwe’s guerrilla war. He worked as a staff photographer and writer for the Lorain Journal in Ohio from 1975 to 1977, and served as a contract photographer, writer, and photo edi- tor for the Associated Press, covering wars throughout the Mideast and southern Africa in 1977 and 1978. At the time of this interview Baughman had published two books, Graven Images (1976) and Forbidden Images (1977). Baughman did over 50 assignments for LIFE magazine. His work was featured in most major news magazines, including Stern and Paris Match. Time, and LIFE, and Newsweek assigned Baughman to cover the war in El Salvador several times. It was there that he was seriously injured from stepping on a land mine in March Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 1982. Baughman taught photojournalism and ethics in mass media in workshops and seminars at various colleges and universities around the country. He also was a member of the faculty in the departments of photography, media studies, and soci- ology at the New School for Social Research in New York City. He was a founding member and partner in the Visions photo agency, an international group of journal- ists who specialized in investigative photo essays. At Visions he developed concepts, edited stories for fellow agency members, and recruited new photographers and interns. 2 J. Ross Baughman
GRACE SCHAUB: What do you try to teach your students? J. ROSS BAUGHMAN: I wish students and young photographers would think about becoming photo editors and the next generation of publishers as well. GS: In other words, to become part of the decision-making pro- cess. JRB: Yes. And as fi eld workers and photojournalists. If we go out and started collecting better stories, I think the editors would prob- ably be willing to publish them. GS: How should a student or young photographer approach an assignment? JRB: You need to have other well-rounded interests besides pho- tography. If you are going to go off to another country on assignment without any knowledge of what’s going on in that country, you are going to feel awfully stupid. You might as well be a tourist. Because you’ve got your brand-new motor-driven camera and a nice new lens—that’s not what it’s all about. If a student feels too neutral or lukewarm about many things, I can predict what their contact sheet will look like. They’re just going to be responding to the sights, smells, and sounds—and maybe a photo editor could salvage a few good pictures. GS: They are reacting rather than taking charge. JRB: I think to be successful you have to carve out what you want. You have to either force that opportunity to fi t into your story, be patient enough to keep returning for it, or, if it’s not what you really want, then you have to be strong enough to turn away from it. GS: What do you mean by that? JRB: Scientifi cally it doesn’t sound like journalism, because the mandate of the daily paper’s front page is usually to collect whatever is out there and bring it on back for the editors to sort it out. Unfortunately, I never met an editor who really believes that. GS: They want selections? Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 JRB: Every editor has an agenda in mind. They have a mix, an idea of what they want to say, and if you just bring them back the pho- tographic proof or fact that last night’s school board meeting was boring, that’s not what they are going to run. Even though there might have been a profound discussion on book banning and nobody cared—now that might be an interesting thing to say—but the editor may still not be interested if it doesn’t suit their own preconceptions. GS: What about the editor’s preconceptions versus what the pho- tographer sees? J. Ross Baughman 3
JRB: As a new photographer that question comes up, as it does for all photographers. Anybody who thinks they’re at wit’s end with it should read how Eugene Smith quit LIFE magazine three, or four, or fi ve times because he couldn’t stand editors changing his work. GS: And from your personal experience? JRB: Every time, I’ve been disappointed. In 20 years I’ve never seen any of my pictures presented the way I wanted. GS: Never?! Were any of your pictures used for the wrong pur- pose? JRB: Occasionally. I think the real test of that is when you publish pictures that not only outrage the subjects so that they feel betrayed, but the photographer in the pit of his stomach feels betrayed because he knows this is not what his intention was, and that there’s been a breakdown. That’s the way the system is set up, and it’s a tragedy. But I don’t feel so dewy-eyed or inno- cent that I don’t realize it’s going to happen again. GS: What can you do about it? JRB: What I do now instead of blaming editors is take the burden of guilt on myself. If I produce clear, eloquent pictures that are great, then editors will always want to use the great pictures, and they will make space in whatever way they have to because that’s a judgment call editors make all the time. GS: How does this relate to your own choice of stories? JRB: Unfortunately, I have been attracted to the kinds of stories that are often about alternative perspectives—fringe groups and people who support unpopular causes. When I do one of those stories an editor is looking at the rest of the table of contents and may say, “Well, I can run Brooke Shields on the cover, and I can run a story about cuddly animals, and a story about exotic homes, and a story about Buckingham Palace and Princess Di. Why do I want to do your story, which is about sad people that are going to make my readers uncomfortable?” That’s a prob- lem. And, unfortunately, over the past ten years I have only seen Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 this turn into an exaggeration—where slick, polished, happy, “comfort” photography is all that most editors are interested in. GS: Even in news magazines? JRB: Take a look at Time magazine in 1989 compared to 1979, and you’ll see a big change. GS: What do you think that change refl ects? JRB: I think it refl ects the political climate in America, and threatens America’s welcome in the rest of the world. I think the rest of the world is offended when we keep putting a sugar-coated icing on everything, suggesting: This is great; this is the “only” 4 J. Ross Baughman
thing that’s great; this is the way it ought to be for you too; and we don’t care about any other problems that you might have . . . problems or celebrations. GS: But it’s not that photographers aren’t going out there and recording these less “comfortable” events. JRB: Many are, but I would say more and more are dropping by the wayside, or going broke. Ten years ago there were a lot more globetrotting and concerned photographers who would come back and say, for instance, “Do you want to see this terrifi c story about the Eritrean Liberation?” And the American editors’ eyes would just glaze over, even though there’s been a civil war in Morocco for 20 years. GS: What are some positive ways for editors and photojournalists to work together? JRB: I have done much better by working with editors and saying, “Look, I realize you have a mix.” When I work with Peter Howe at LIFE magazine, I know they have a “menu.” He says it’s like when you go to a restaurant, you expect to see some appetizers, a few main courses, desserts, salads, and soups—and a range of tastes. No one would come back to the restaurant if they only could get meat and potatoes, and they’re boiled every time. GS: Do you have any particular themes that run through your work? JRB: There are about six of them. For instance, early on I realized I was interested in nonconformity. Another theme is self-esteem, or vanity. I am also interested in power and powerlessness—what it takes to be the powerful person in the group. I look for those themes over and over again. GS: You have a reputation for doing undercover investigative sto- ries. Do you still choose to do them? JRB: Yes, but I prefer to always work with the consent of my subjects. Somewhere in a story I have to fi nd a point of view I think is ethically responsible to the story. Once I make that point of view my own, and become welcomed into that scene, then I Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 play it straight. Sometimes it may mean that while my pres- ence isn’t a problem, having a camera along could be. Although, these days photography as an act is almost never inappropriate. Wherever I go, whether it’s to a war zone or the White House, there are already other participants who have fairly sophisticated 35mm cameras. GS: Is there ever a political confl ict about the point of view you take on? JRB: It’s not a question of being apolitical. You take on the point of view of your subject. If a group came to me and said, “We’re J. Ross Baughman 5
misunderstood, and we need our chance in a public forum,” that’s a political position I feel is still very important for all jour- nalism. GS: And they should be given a chance to be heard? JRB: The disenfranchised should be given their turn not only to be heard, but to be seen, because I think that’s just as important in human communications. We are willing to talk about all kinds of dark secrets—it’s one thing to talk about them, but an entirely different thing to look at them. I think that’s where Victorian standards still draw the line. GS: How do you feel about mass media and the “photo oppor- tunity?” JRB: One of the things I “preach” to my students all the time is we absolutely cannot think of the mass media as an open-ended, ever-growing monster. We simply cannot put “photo oppor- tunity” demands on our subjects, and think that the quality of information, verbal or visual, is going to be adequate. You can’t have 100, 500, or 1000 photographers photographing the Pope at the same time. We know from the laws of physics we can’t all stand in front of the Pope at the same time. GS: It’s an intrusion on an event. JRB: It changes the event. For instance, it’s no longer a natural visit by a Pope to an African country, it becomes the Pope and his “press bubble” fl oating through, creating waves, and knocking down things wherever they go. And we know that the press corps does that. GS: Where will it all lead? JRB: Well, I’m not sure there are going to be laws passed, and edi- tors show no willingness to volunteer to police the problem. I think it’s going to come from the subjects themselves, because right now we know it’s harder and harder to see anything in the White House that isn’t ordered and shaved down to a “pool.” And I’m not real thrilled about “pools.” GS: A press pool where certain networks, newspapers, and journals Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 are allowed to attend? JRB: Yes, and others are not, and with certain groups dominating. GS: Is there favoritism? JRB: It’s a favoritism that doesn’t always guarantee the highest quality of coverage. I think we really have to come up with a reversal. It’s not surprising for an average citizen who suddenly fi nds himself in the spotlight to become very anxious about a herd of journalists arriving at his front door. I think it’s appropriate for that person to choose when, where, how, and why they care to share their story. There’s nothing wrong with exclusivity. 6 J. Ross Baughman
But we have to do something along the way to ensure the free market—which has already gotten us into this jam we’re in. Hopefully it won’t further poison the dynamic between sub- ject and journalist. We have to guarantee that the subject has a legitimate motive for telling their story. They may be absolutely careless and reckless and unfounded in their opinion, but it’s not the job of the journalist to pass that judgment and discredit them. We also have to remove the ethical bonding of profi t, or direct compensation. If subjects are coming forward to make money by selling their life story for a book or a movie—then we’ve got a problem. What they are saying is, “I’ll let out a cer- tain amount as a teaser, but I’m withholding the best stuff. I’m not going to let this out until I think it’s the best possible time for profi t.” GS: Could you talk a little about the Visions agency? JRB: Visions is a photo agency that is also involved in book projects. Mark Greenberg, my partner, has brought us into the realm of putting together complete media packaging of an event. He did that with the fl ight of the Voyager, the fi rst nonstop fl ight around the world. GS: How do you come up with stories? JRB: At Visions we have our own brainstorming sessions thinking up stories, and sometimes these are the same stories magazines are thinking about. If we can offer a package that’s better than what they’ve got, they might say, “OK, why don’t you guys cover this one.” Basically, we’re in business to make life easier for the editors. I am thinking, researching, setting up contacts, getting exclusive rights to stories when I can, getting consent forms when necessary, and even taking the fi rst step of beginning the story. I feel every freelancer has to take it that far. GS: Are most of the stories you’ve had published self-generated? JRB: I have done about 50 stories for LIFE magazine, and about 20 of them have been self-generated. GS: What are the obligations and responsibilities of a photojour- Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 nalist? JRB: The number one responsibility is to my subject. I also have a responsibility to my future, to staying alive, and to keep coming back for more! But I also have a responsibility to each story, and to tell it completely. For instance, if I’m telling a story about domestic violence, I wouldn’t stop short of someone getting hurt because that’s what the story is about. And yet there are many journalists who, when they come up to the classic thresh- old, they use a humanitarian measure—if it’s “life and death, we back off,” is what many photojournalists would say. Any time J. Ross Baughman 7
a story involves life and death, whether it be euthanasia in a hospital, or a rescue 911 helicopter pilot, they say, “If there is a chance for me to save a life I will do anything, I’ll stop what I’m doing, go over and personally intervene, and certainly back away from the story.” But that shamefully disqualifi es them for every story that we would ever want to do on that most impor- tant of all thresholds—life and death! GS: You had been critical of the Reagan administration and their attitude towards press coverage. JRB: I think when the government is so contemptuous of the free fl ow of information as a human right—it is more or less incorporated in the Bill of Rights—there are still some poli- ticians who will argue that there is no right to know. But certainly, underlying any democracy is the premise that the electorate is informed, and not fi ve years later but informed in a timely fashion. Now, I’m not saying I ever want my journal- ism to become a catalyst to infl uence and affect and corrupt the event itself. I wouldn’t report on the progress of a troop ship so the enemy could come and blow it up. That’s one of the classics in journalism, so I am perfectly ready to respect the ethical boundaries that would ensure that as a result of my stories no one would become an immediate victim of my spotlight. However, the last administration in the White House proved it wanted to rigorously manage and minimize infor- mation, and I’m pro-information, and I’m bound to be on the opposite side, so there’s got to be some trickery. It amazed me when journalists squawked at fi rst saying, how dare you keep us out of that (Grenada) invasion, and the public came back and said, “Forget the journalists, we don’t care if you are locked out, we want to win this one for the Gipper,” if you remember the headlines at that time. Most journalists stopped complaining, and said we are going to forget about the free fl ow of information, maybe the president is right. Many edi- Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 tors were willing to just knuckle under. I think that we need to have more civil disobedience from journalists when they confront censorship. But that’s not to say when I do stories for the government, and I’ve done so since Grenada, and they know that if I sign on to do a story under their auspices that they can count on me being a loyal team player, but they also know that the pre- conditions for my even entering a story is that I have to have free access. GS: Was the Pulitzer Prize a bittersweet win for you? 8 J. Ross Baughman
JRB: I’m surprised at how many people come up to me and say, “Didn’t they take that away from you?” because of the confu- sion over the Overseas Press Corp. The point is the stigma has remained intact. Even in histories of photojournalism, it still is not put to rest; it is left lingering as an unanswered question, which seems so bizarre to me. GS: What made them question your pictures? JRB: What the Overseas Press Corp basically said was that their instincts make us suspicious and hearsay makes us question them, but what they ignored was the response of the Rho- desian government and the South African government. And, belatedly—just over the past year—I heard one of the soldiers I photographed returned to Rhodesia and has gone through a purging confession and written a book. In it he describes the ugliness of the war. At one point the Rhodesian gov- ernment denied my charge that a local black politician was murdered—tortured to death over three days. They said it’s not true, but when they were asked to produce this man to show he’s not dead, they refused. As frequently as I have described what I went through and answered all the dozens of questions that came up over the past ten years, people still question it. GS: Why do you think that is? JRB: There were a lot of problems surrounding it—I was very young, very new, there were jealousies, and there were a series of mis- takes. I didn’t help myself by being rather ornery about it. When they questioned me, I wouldn’t talk about it. At fi rst AP advised me that if I wanted to stay with them I shouldn’t discuss it. They were going to stand by me and the story, but in fact that silence only exacerbated the curiosity and questions of my fel- low journalists—they wanted to talk about it and get all the answers, and I didn’t. GS: You didn’t want to? JRB: AP was very fi rm about saying, “Please don’t!” From April of ’78 to June of ’79 nothing was said, and I think that hurt me. Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 GS: AP felt it wasn’t necessary to defend yourself. Why did they take that position? JRB: They were backing me. AP always stands by its stories whenever they are in question, but I needed to answer more questions that came up. I have to say, unfortunately, that the story the way it originally ran was changed by AP, and I think that caused some of the confusion. GS: Did the controversy surrounding the Pulitzer Prize hinder your career? JRB: I think my career in journalism during the eighties would have actually gone further if I hadn’t won that prize, which is sad to J. Ross Baughman 9
say. There wouldn’t have been the controversy surrounding it, and people would have seen that I’ve been consistently doing stories like that one, and I’m serious about what I do. GS: It is a great honor to be bestowed on a photographer; in the long run, did it help your career? JRB: I suppose in the long run it means my little footnote will be retained. I’m not sure it’s my responsibility as a journalist to refuse if a bomber invites me to photograph the planned bomb- ing. If we had the opportunity to photograph the American Revolution we would have—they were rebels. GS: You take this all very personally. Does your work have an auto- biographical edge? JRB: A lot of my work has been autobiographical, and I don’t think many people realize photojournalism has that potential. But for the last two years I think I have come to the point where I have expressed myself adequately so that I have reached the heart of at least one other person who can come up to me, look me in the eye, and say, “I understand what you’ve been saying. I know what those themes are depicting, and I recog- nize what they mean in you.” And that has been such a shatter- ing reward that I think it’s pulled the wires on my motivation for going out and describing the world. I’m talking about my wife—I got married, and I think that has made a big differ- ence. I still feel like expressing myself. I’m working on some books and still teaching, but I don’t feel the same urge to make myself understood by way of other people—meaning, through the people in my pictures. I’ve been much more patient and willing to have editors say, “Ross, you have a tradition, a style, a reputation, and you see clearly. I’d love for you to go out and interpret this other story for me,” and I will occasionally be called. But I don’t really feel I have a lot of chapters that I haven’t already covered. Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 This page intentionally left blank Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 2 RUTH BERNHARD
Photographer’s Forum , September 1990
Ruth Bernhard (1905–2006) is considered one of America’s master fi ne art photog- raphers. For over 50 years she photographed and exhibited her work at museums and galleries throughout the world. Her photographs are in the collections of the Museum of Modern Art in New York, the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and many other prestigious museums and collections around the world. She is best known for her large-format black and white photographs of the nude, natural forms, and still life. In her work, as in her life, Bernhard always cel- ebrated the “commonplace.” She simplifi ed forms, revealing the beauty, passion, and spirit within her subjects, and strived to, and succeeded in, making her images timeless. In 1976 she assembled two portfolios of original prints: “Gift of the Common- place” and “The Eternal Body.” In 1986, Photography West Graphics, of Carmel, California, published the latter as a book entitled The Eternal Body: A Collection of Fifty Nudes . Other books with Bernhard’s work include The Big Heart, a small book about San Francisco’s cable cars written by Melvin Van Peebles (1957), and Collect- ing Light , a monograph published in 1979 by the Friends of Photography. A few years after this interview, Woodrose Publisher in association with the Center for Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 Photographic Art published Gift of the Commonplace (1996). At the time of this interview Bernhard lived in San Francisco and was a regular instructor at the Ansel Adams Workshops in Yosemite and Carmel, and she taught at the University of California Extension Program for many years. She was a respected and sought-after instructor and had conducted master classes in the United States and abroad. As she has said of her work, “The diversity of my work is an attempt to express my sense of wonder at the amazing and miraculous world in which I fi nd myself and the mysteries which lie beyond.” 12 Ruth Bernhard
GRACE SCHAUB: Your work ranges from the commonplace made universal to intimate studies of small objects. What is it you see that makes these images resonate with so many people, and how did you begin to see this way? RUTH BERNHARD: I just had a class with John Sexton called “Gift of the Com- monplace,” and the gift of the commonplace is really what I’m most interested in—the little things that nobody observes, that nobody thinks are of any value. People go to Yosemite to pho- tograph because they think what’s here is of no importance, and I think everything from the palm of your hand and right here is important—there’s no such thing that is not important. GS: So everything is interrelated? RB: Everything is universal. And I am very much aware of that. GS: This is a philosophy that you bring to your photography. RB: This is something I’ve known since I was a child. And even when I photograph nudes, to me they are seedpods. We are seedpods for the future, and we are the result of the seedpods of the past, and that’s what my interest is. GS: That’s an enlightened view of the world. RB: I guess it is. GS: One quote I read from you was: “In my life as in my work, I am motivated by a great yearning for perfection and harmony beyond the realm of human experience. Through the language of symbols and light I have sought to reach the essence of one- ness with the universe.” RB: This is how I feel. I feel so connected that I never wear clothes without feeling what it is part of or where it comes from—this is part of the universe. My wool sweater is part of the animal, and the animal is part of the connection again. It is all just so wonderful. GS: Have you always had that outlook? RB: I can’t remember any time when I didn’t have that. I was aware of it as a child, and it makes life so wonderful because nothing is ever boring. I never have to go any other place to enjoy myself. Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 I always think, wherever I am that is where it is. GS: You are always fascinated with what’s directly around you. Has it always been a visual experience for you? RB: I was always a very visual person, but I’m never visual without thinking of the connection. So for me it’s not just the seeing, but that the seeing applied to everything I know. GS: It’s a very holistic philosophy and approach to your art and your life. RB: It’s always been that way. I see a tree as the roots, and the leaves, and the life, and the change, and the water, and the bugs—and Ruth Bernhard 13
the table at which I’m sitting, it’s not a table, but it came from the life which we have utilized. So I can’t think of another way for me to experience—this is the only way for me to experience. GS: Can you tell us how you began making pictures? RB: When I came to the U.S. in 1927, my father was here and he supported me. And by some crazy coincidence I got an 8 x 10 view camera, and I was not a photographer, actually. I had just become an assistant to the assistant in a magazine—and it hap- pened to be photography.— It could’ve been anything else. GS: That was The Delineator with Ralph Steiner. RB: So I bought the view camera for $90, because I had $90, because in order to get rid of me the magazine had to give me two weeks salary, which was $45 a week. GS: Why did they want to get rid of you? RB: Because I was so lazy. I wasn’t interested in my job. I came late every morning and left early. GS: You were diffi cult? RB: Oh, yes. I don’t know how long they put up with me, but they thought I was for the birds. I had gotten the job because my father knew Ralph Steiner. So I didn’t think photography was interesting or fascinating; I thought it was low-key and boring. GS: But you were an artistic person? RB: But I didn’t connect photography with art. For me, at that time, art and photography were two separate categories. I felt art was a higher level of expression than photography. Art was up here and photography was in the basement—the sub-basement. GS: Why did you feel that way? RB: It was a nice way to make a living, but I didn’t feel it was crea- tive. I saw fashion pictures and food pictures, and it was OK, but it didn’t excite me. GS: When did you embrace photography as an art form—and the one you would devote yourself to for the rest of your life? Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 RB: I didn’t get excited until I met Edward Weston, who was the fi rst photographer I felt whose work represented art. And so I thought art can be made with a camera, and that was my fi rst revelation! GS: Looking at his work you discovered this? RB: Yes, I looked at his work and I was in tears, it was so moving for me. GS: When did you meet him? RB: That was in 1935, when I was 29 years old. GS: How did you meet him? 14 Ruth Bernhard
RB: It was truly by accident. I was all of a sudden realizing that with photography there was nothing wrong with the camera—the person who was doing the work was either an artist or not an artist. You know, it’s like buying a Stradivarius—you don’t know how to play so you just fi ddle. GS: Meeting Edward Weston was an important turning point in your life and for your photography. RB: Yes. I hadn’t considered a camera was a tool for an artist. For me, all photographers were craftsmen. I didn’t know any art photographers before this. GS: How did you meet Weston? RB: He was in the ocean at Santa Monica—he was taking a dip, and my father’s friend knew him. We were visiting from New York. And my father’s friend said, “Hello Ed, come on over here.” And you know at that time, Edward Weston was no name—it didn’t mean anything. He was just another person, and he said, “Come and look at my work.” And I didn’t have anything else to do so I visited. And it was very important for me. But it didn’t change the way I was operating my life, it was just that all of a sudden I had respect for my tool. I thought there is noth- ing wrong with a camera—it’s not the tool, it’s the artist. And I suddenly realized that. GS: How did that affect you in terms of your work? RB: Not at all. I went back to New York, and I kept on doing the same thing I was doing. But I respected the craft all of a sudden, that was how it changed. But you see, I had to go on making a living, so I kept doing the same thing I had always done—the best I could. I worked for jewelers, industrial designers, archi- tects, and other people who were doing creative work. GS: When did you start photographing nudes? RB: The fi rst nude I did was in 1934 in New York. I had a job photographing for the Museum of Modern Art—a catalog called Machine Art. A friend of mine came in to my studio when I was photographing this stainless steel bowl. And I said Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 to her, “Listen, you would be terrifi c in there, why don’t you get in.” She was a very free person who loved to dance, and she danced in the nude, and she got into the bowl and I photo- graphed her. I always made one exposure; I still only make one exposure. So that was the fi rst nude photograph I made—in 1934. That was before Weston. But I didn’t take my photo- graphing at all seriously. GS: You were playing? RB: I was enjoying it. GS: What was the atmosphere like in NewYork in the thirties—being a photographer and a woman. Ruth Bernhard 15
RB: Being a woman had nothing to do with it for me. I was not aware of the fact that there was something special about being a woman photographer. I always felt the only way to do any- thing was the best you can do. And that was my aim—to be the best—for me, not for anybody else. But I could only do what I considered absolutely the best, and there was never any time when I said this is good enough now. It was never good enough. If it took me two years, two weeks, or two days—that’s how long it was going to take. GS: It was Edward Weston who gave you the appreciation for your craft. RB: I respected my craft all of a sudden. I thought that I had to take what I was doing seriously. That was the big difference for me after I met Weston. GS: You came back to New York and continued photographing commercially. RB: Yes, I continued being a commercial photographer—I was doing that to make a living. GS: And you were successful at it. RB: Yes, I was successful because I respected the people for whom I was working. They were industrial designers, and they were doing excellent work. And I felt that I had to honor their work by doing the best I could for them, and I put myself out to do the most interesting and exciting thing I could do for them. And when it was good, I thought it was because they were good. I didn’t think it was because I was good. GS: You didn’t run into any problems being a woman, or having anything denied you because you were a woman? RB: Never. There was an interesting thing: There was a woman named Erica Anderson who looked somewhat like me—some people thought we were lookalikes. I was living in New York at the time, and there was a fi lm shortage due to the war. At the photo shop they would say, “You can’t buy any fi lm, you just bought fi lm here yesterday.” And I would say no, I wasn’t here Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 yesterday. So, it seemed Erica Anderson and I were doubles. I called her, and we planned to meet at a restaurant, at Schrafts. And sure enough I came in and there I was—we were looka- likes. I was not aware of any other women photographers in New York at that time, and only aware of her because we were doubles. GS: What was her work like? RB: She did a book on Schweitzer. She went to Schweitzer’s hospi- tal and photographed him there. She died early; I don’t know what happened. But I had no particular feeling about being a woman photographer in any way. I was a photographer. 16 Ruth Bernhard
GS: But you are considered a pioneer in that you are a woman pho- tographer who photographed the nude in the thirties. RB: I was a pioneer, but I didn’t know it, because I never compared myself to anybody. GS: So for you it was a natural thing to do, you weren’t self-conscious about it. RB: I was not self-conscious, and I was not competitive. I never looked at any other photographers and said, “Gee, I wish I had done that.” I only looked at, “Did I do the best?” GS: So you weren’t particularly infl uenced by other photographers of the time. RB: Not at all. I was interested in little things always. I was interested in grasses as a child, and small animals. I photographed what was near me. And I fell in love with the fi ve-and-ten-cent store and bought some drinking straws, and visualized that they could be beautiful with a certain light on them. So I did things entirely intuitively—my brain was not involved. I always felt that I did it all by intuition. GS: How did you develop your sense for light in your photographs? RB: I always knew it. I don’t think there was ever any time I didn’t know about light. It wasn’t anything I had to stop and think about. I said to myself, how is this going to look most beautiful? I had one lamp—a clamp-on with a number one photofl ood. I lit things with that. But I had always looked at light as a child, because when I put this little piece of glass in the light and turned it around and the light was on it, I knew it was beautiful. So you see, I didn’t have to learn it—I knew it. I think every- thing came to me without my slightest effort. GS: Why do you think that is? RB: I tell you, every one of my photographs came to me—I listened. I speak to it and it tells me, “You do it this way,” and I say, “Yes I do”—I always listen, and it always tells me what to do. After I had met Edward, I moved from New York to California because I wanted to study with him, naturally. But I couldn’t because Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 when I got there I found that he had moved further north to Carmel. GS: Did you then move to Carmel? RB: No, I stayed in Hollywood. I couldn’t afford to move again at that time. I could barely make a living with photography, and certainly not in Carmel—I understood that very clearly. GS: But he continued to be an inspiration for your work? RB: Yes, and I visited him all the time because we were very close friends, and we liked each other a great deal. Edward had just met Charis, and that was naturally very important, because my Ruth Bernhard 17
feeling for Edward was, well, maybe went a little beyond friend- ship, but I also knew that he and Charis . . . so I never, we had sort of a platonic . . . my feeling toward him was . . . I really loved him very much, but I didn’t . . . GS: It must have been diffi cult for you. But you expressed your love for him through your work. RB: But I was so grateful for how he had changed my life, and I was very much aware that he had changed my whole attitude because now my life in photography was meaningful—photography was now my life, instead of my livelihood. GS: When did you move up to San Francisco? RB: I moved to San Francisco in 1953. And I still live in the same house. GS: Did you have any problems during the earthquake? RB: Yes, I lost my coffee grinder—big deal! I was sitting outdoors, facing my house, and all of a sudden it was dancing right before my eyes. It was wild! I couldn’t believe it! But the house was really not affected. GS: What did Weston think of your fi rst creative picture—the doll’s head? RB: He loved that picture; he bought it. At that time there was a red streetcar that went from Hollywood to Santa Monica—it’s no longer there, because anything practical is not there anymore. So at that time, I could go to Santa Monica on the streetcar; so I made bread for Neil and Cole—the boys. I met Edward in August 1935, and I went back to New York, and got it all together, and in January 1936, I came to California. That is the time that Edward moved, but I didn’t know that. So that was when I decided to move to Hollywood. I found a little house, and I made a living by photographing children. The picture of the doll’s head was the fi rst picture that I had done after I met Edward, and it was the fi rst creative picture I made. This was in 1936. Certainly it was much unlike anything Edward had ever done. It was a combination of three things: a Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 doll’s head that I had spied in a window on Hollywood Blvd.; a hand that I had seen in a cigar store on Hollywood Blvd.; and a photograph I made of Silver Lake, Colorado, that I had taken on my fi rst trip to California, before I met Edward. I purchased the doll’s head and the hand, and when I got back to my studio, the “thing” said to me in no uncertain terms, “You do it this way,” and I said, “Yes, I’ll do it this way,” and this is how I’ve always worked. GS: It’s an intuitive process? RB: It’s completely fi nished in my head—no question about it. 18 Ruth Bernhard
GS: The whole image is there. RB: Whole images are complete and already there; I just put it together. For that particular photograph, which was my fi rst print after I had met Edward, I combined the hand, the doll’s head, and the picture I had taken in Colorado in the background. I had just made a print. It was the fi rst print, and still slightly damp and curling at the edges. But I added it to the composition. I had to do that. I never doubted what my inspiration said I should do—never doubted! And today. I never doubt when something says, “You do this.” I say, “Yes, I will.” Yes is my favorite word! GS: And it’s all instinctual. RB: I think if I had to use my brain, it would go completely crazy because I don’t know how to do that. GS: It just fl ows forth. RB: It just told me what to do, and I listened very, very carefully. GS: Tell me about some of the images in Gift of the Commonplace . RB: I just put things together—skulls, fl owers, and whatever, and I never doubted that if it said I should do that, that it was the right thing to do. So I never talked myself out of anything. I was never in doubt how it should be done. But you see I only make one exposure—just one exposure. But it takes me a long time to get to that exposure. I look, move things around, and when it’s right I know it. But I never think I have worked too long on anything, because if it took that long then it was the right time—it wasn’t too long. GS: You create your pictures, then, for yourself. RB: But it doesn’t necessarily mean that this picture means anything to anybody else. And I never care if it does, because it’s for me, and I’m satisfi ed. I’ll tell you, everything in my life happened to me exactly the way it’s supposed to happen. I haven’t planned anything. So when I bought that little doll’s head, the shopkeeper said to me, what kind of a body do you want with that head? I said to him, I don’t want a body, I just want that head. I didn’t Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 know what I was going to do with it; I just knew I wanted it. I instinctively said, I must have this little head. So he said to me, “You’re a photographer. Can you photograph children?” And as I only had one little word called yes , I said “Yes.” He said, “I have a little room upstairs that would make a wonderful little studio. Would you like to have a little studio up there, to photograph the children of the stars when they come and buy toys for their children? And if they buy ten dollars worth of toys [which at that time was a lot of money], you give them a free photograph. And if you’re good at it you can make a living, and if you’re not, it’s up to you.” This is how it always has been. Ruth Bernhard 19
And the parents loved the pictures I made of their chil- dren, and they came themselves to be photographed, and then I photographed the children’s dolls. And then I went to Elvira Street and feel in love with some puppets down there, and the puppeteers kept saying, “Weren’t you here yesterday?” And I said, “Yes I was, and I’m going to be here tomorrow too.” So they found out I was a photographer, and said photograph our puppets, so I photographed pup- pets. So you see it always fell just into place, the things that I like most to do. So I never had to make a decision, because it opened up for me always. And for some people that’s not a good way to do it, but for me it was perfect. And when I went to Sanibel Island in 1943, my father said, “Why don’t you go to Florida, you look peaked.” And I said, “Yes I’d like to,” because I read in the Times there was going to be a seashell show in Sanibel Island, and I said, “That’s where I’m going to go.” And so I took my few sea- shell pictures under my arm and off I went. It couldn’t have been a more wonderful time. Mrs. Edison, Thomas Edison’s wife, swept down and bought all the pictures I brought with me, and I could pay my rent because I didn’t have any money to move into the hotel. So you see, I have unbe- lievable confi dence because everything is always falling into place exactly right. And when opportunities beckon I always think they’re right for me, because they wouldn’t be there if they were not right for me. GS: So you don’t let opportunities pass you by? RB: I don’t let them go by, no. GS: You must have a very rewarding life. RB: It’s terrifi c. I just had my 84th birthday, and I’m still saying “yes” to everything. GS: You look toward the future. RB: There is no difference—it’s all one and the same thing. I think Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 I’m leaving behind a lot of confi dence, which some people have picked up from me, and it can only be good for them. Confi dence is always good. And I give this confi dence to my students—I pass it out . GS: You do teach workshops. RB: I get so many letters from my students over the years who feel they have become enriched by them. GS: It’s a sense of confi dence you give to your students, and a sense of discovery. RB: Yes, and I give them the feeling there is much more there than they think, that photography is not something that is over 20 Ruth Bernhard
here and life is over there—life and photography, and being able to see and enjoy what is really there, is one and the same thing. And many people think of it as the darkroom, and the print, and the negative. I don’t feel that’s the way it is. And I tell people how I feel about the connection. And many people are very moved by that and suddenly notice that they feel it in their own life. I call myself a gardener. I’m doing a little weeding, a little fertilizing. Because what every person has is already in them; they already have it. You can’t give anybody anything, but what you can do is to make them more aware of what they have, and to make it grow better, and I’m just a good fertilizer, that’s what I am. GS: That’s beautiful. RB: And it is something that I didn’t realize that I could do, because I am not a teacher. I have a teaching credential because some- body wanted me to teach at City College, so they gave me a piece of paper. But I don’t have a degree, and I didn’t go to college, I only went to art school. And I don’t have any of the things teachers usually have to prove; I don’t have that. GS: We both know that doesn’t make a great teacher—that piece of paper or all the degrees don’t either. RB: No, but we have these ideas that if you have a PhD and have all these degrees you are qualifi ed, and therefore better. And sometimes, somebody who doesn’t have any of it may be pretty damn good. GS: That’s so true. RB: If you were to ask, do I envy anyone, I would say no. There isn’t anything that I would give up that I have now, for beauty or being a willowy beauty—I feel that I am very fortunate. And what I think I am fortunate about is that I know how to hear what I am supposed to do. I don’t have any notion that the outside world is going to tell me what I should be doing. Everything I should be doing is inside me—that’s what I have Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 to listen for. GS: You’ve always been independent. RB: I was an only child. GS: That can make some people very dependent. RB: I’ve always been very dependent on my confi dence. And as you know, I am 84 years old, and I don’t have any—it’s just a funny number to me. I always feel the age of the people I am with—I feel like the children, and all different ages. It never occurs to me that I am older than you are. I don’t have that feeling at all. Ruth Bernhard 21
GS: I see you as a contemporary—I think you’re ageless. There is a continuum of the mind that goes on and on, and the body is just our shell, our house, and it gets tired. RB: The body does age, but what goes on up here in my mind does not for me. GS: You keep growing. RB: Sometimes it’s a little inconvenient, because sometimes I’m too young for my age. It can be inconvenient, because other people don’t see you in the way that you feel. That you’re 40 and you have feelings that you’re 40, but people looking at you see you as 84. It can be inconvenient. GS: Well, you can choose your friends. RB: Well, I don’t have any idea of who to choose or who my friends are—most of my friends are also my students, because we have so much in common. And many of my students are very young; some are a little older. GS: Teaching is very rewarding for you, isn’t it? RB: Oh, yes. I think my teaching is more important to me than my photography. The more I teach the more important my teach- ing becomes to me. GS: Could you talk about that a little more? RB: I feel that if my work were to burn up in a fi re, the students I have taught will continue me. So that’s how I think the work can be in a box and hidden away, but once you’ve touched another person’s life you can never take it back. It’s really like words. Words are like dynamite—words are forever—they are out here, and whatever you’ve done with those words is there, going around the world forever. So when my students say, “You have helped me in my life,” that’s permanent, because they can’t help but pass it on. GS: So you don’t feel attached to your pictures. RB: No. I understand them very well. I like what they say to me because they say out loud what I feel. The photographs are tell- ing those who know how to look something of what I feel. But Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 it takes two to look at a photograph. I think to look at a pho- tograph is like reading poetry. Some people only read words; others read everything between the lines. And a photograph is just like that. Everything in a photograph is between the lines, and if you don’t know how to do that you are not really seeing what’s there. GS: Do you think you can teach that? RB: You can teach people to become more aware. I have exer- cises. I do crazy things in my classes. First of all, I tell peo- ple to photograph only thirty feet from their bed. That’s 22 Ruth Bernhard
where everything is that’s important. Never get in your car or go anywhere—you’re allowed in your house, on your street, and learn to see it. I make people read a picture. I say, describe a photograph; most people don’t know how to do that. Most people only hear the melody. Some people, when they hear a symphony, they fi nd out how the thing is con- structed and how it goes together. So if you only hear the mel- ody, you haven’t learned how to listen to music. And of course it all depends on who you are. You bring your experiences to it, and they are different than anyone else’s, and you are going to see an entirely different photograph, and I think that’s how it ought to be. Because how else can you experience anything except in terms of what you know and what you feel? So these are some of the methods I use in my classes. GS: In your own work, do you have a certain concept you are trying to achieve? RB: To me, all my photographs are reading between the lines, and I don’t expect anyone to see that. I make no demands on an audience—I made the pictures for me in the fi rst place. It satis- fi es me. But I have one more photograph I want to take, but I can’t talk about it. But that would have everything in it that I ever meant to say for my entire life. And I know what that pho- tograph is, but I haven’t been able to do it. GS: Were you always interested in photography? RB: I’ve always been interested in art. As a child I did a lot of draw- ing and bookbinding and carving in wood. But I wanted to become either a veterinarian or an opera singer. I had a great voice when I was in boarding school, and everybody thought I had the perfect voice, and I said, “No, I want to become a vet- erinarian.” Animals and I are one with each other—everything is one with everything, isn’t it? GS: I believe that’s true. RB: As we sit here, this poor little plant is trying to change—it’s Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 been working on it, improving, growing. Everything is so. It’s interesting because when I’m with people I make my observations so they can fi nd out what I am thinking. And they look at me with great surprise, that I’m talking about some little thing that nobody notices—and I suddenly think is really very important. To be aware as I am all the time is a privilege. GS: You don’t fi nd the awareness and sensitivity to be painful? RB: Not a bit. No, I think I am very privileged because I experi- ence things, not only now but I experience them in retrospect. Because something I am now experiencing this very minute Ruth Bernhard 23
also reminds me of a thousand other things in the world. It’s a solid spider web, sort of, it’s so delicately attached to each other that you can’t move one little place without moving the entire thing. You cannot make a move without affecting everything, and I know that! GS: It’s distressing to see what is happening to our planet and our environment. RB: Oh, I am most terribly upset about it, and it’s diffi cult to eat. I am never without consciousness about what I eat. I could understand what the American Indian feels about hunting, because they always feel they are in debt to what they eat. And I feel the cruelty we allow to take place every single day is just too terrible to contemplate. So that has certain disadvantages when you have that kind of feeling about things. GS: What is your most memorable experience? RB: I think probably when I found out what the meaning of my life could be when I met Edward. And it wasn’t because of Edward’s personality. It was because I experienced that the fi rst time I saw his work. So it doesn’t have to do with my friendship with Edward, it only has to do with the recognition of how my life was affected by his work. GS: Was there a particular image of his that spoke to you? RB: The half an artichoke. And then, that shell sitting in the moun- tain. I went there the other day, to look at that place where he photographed. And I always thought it was a huge mountain range with a shell sitting in there, but it was no more than this big. GS: At Point Lobos? RB: It’s a magical spot. Edward took me there. GS: Weston Beach? RB: It is now offi cially called Weston Beach, but we always called it that. But now it is on the map, and we had a dedication. Brett, Neil, and Cole—we were all there dedicating that plaque. GS: You were born in Berlin. How do you feel about the unifi ca- tion of East and West Germany? Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 RB: Well, I don’t feel national in any way whatsoever about Ger- many, but I feel about the human race that maybe we are mak- ing a millimeter of progress. But I feel that the human race is doing such terrible things I can’t be too enthusiastic, because the Africans are starving, there is apartheid, the Jews and the Arabs can’t get it together. I came here in 1927, long before the wall went up, but I have no national feelings about America or Germany—I feel universal. But I feel most of the time I am ashamed of the human race, because I think our potential is so great, and we do such terrible things to each other. 24 Ruth Bernhard
It’s unbelievable what we are doing. But I have a theory that we are the end of the food chain, and that has something to do with it. All the animals are in some way somebody else’s prey. The cats eat the mice and so on, and we have no enemies except each other—and we are the ones we are hunting and killing—we are the only species that does that. That could be because we are the end of the food chain and we don’t have anyone that can devour us, so we do it to each other. I am ashamed of being a human being most of the time. GS: We are devolving rather that evolving. RB: I think we are on our way down. I think of the thousands of species that are no longer here on this earth, not because of us, but because of evolution. And I think we are part of the new animal generation that is also going to be extinct, and I don’t know what will be there after us, but surely we are not going to be here. And I don’t think we are going to be here as long as most other species, because we are working so hard at destroy- ing ourselves—we are so good at doing it—the atomic bomb, and all the things we are deliberately doing. GS: Leaders of nations are talking about doing away with 10 bombs or 15 bombs. RB: But then a man like Gorbachev comes along and can make things happen—temporarily, anyway. I think we are a highly intelligent, stupid animal. GS: But you stress the perfection of things, the “here” of things, in your work. RB: I’m attracted to the idea that when you experience something here it is in its perfection. It’s already perfect. Even in the pro- cess of its dying it is perfect, because it is perfect in its process. Although we say a fl ower is beautiful when it is in bloom, it’s also beautiful when it wilts—now it is dead. Actually, when it makes that progression, it’s perfect in its perfection. So the things that appeal to me, there are so many things that appeal to me, don’t always say “photograph” to me, they say love! And Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 I have a feeling, for instance, that this fl ower and this bone have a relationship with each other—they need to be together, and I put them together in my pictures. And I don’t question it; I don’t say why should I do this. I say, “Ah, yes, I hear you.” The things that I like to photograph are the things I can touch with my hands. I don’t photograph things that are beyond my reach. And I think when we talk about being touched, or having a touching experience, the word touching has to do with how close we are to it, and I don’t like to have things miles away—I have to be able to touch them. 3 MARTHA CASANAVE
Photographer’s Forum , September 1998
Martha Casanave (b. 1946) is well-known and respected for her highly expressive black and white portraits and her compelling images of the human form. Her work has been featured in many photographic publications and included in exhibitions around the world. Casanave’s work is in major collections including the Boston Museum of Fine Arts, the Stanford Museum of Art, the Museum of Modern Art (as part of the Image Continuum Journal), the Yuen Lui Gallery Collection, and the Friends of Imogen Cunningham. From 1979 to 1989, Polaroid Corporation sponsored her work by awarding her several Print Collection Grants. The publication of her book Past Lives: Photo- graphs by Martha Casanave (1991) was supported by Agfa Corporation. In 1979, she was the winner of the Imogen Cunningham Photography Award, and in 1989 she received the Koret Israel Prize for a project on Israeli Women Artists. Casanave has been attracted to photography all her life. Her interest in the medium began as a youngster, when, at the age of 12, her uncle gave her a Rol- leicord medium format camera and a Weston light meter. Later, while studying foreign languages (Russian and Japanese) at the Monterey Institute of International Studies, she continued her involvement with photography by working as an assis- Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 tant for a photographer who specialized in environmental portraiture. Her fi rst job out of college was as a translator for the Defense Department in Washington, D.C., where she enrolled in photography classes and set up a dark- room. After that, she moved to New York and worked as a photographer’s assistant at a large Madison Avenue advertising agency. She spent her free time photograph- ing and studying with photojournalist Lou Bernstein. In the midseventies, Casanave moved back to Monterey, California and set up her own portrait studio. She supported herself with freelance translating jobs while building up her portrait business. In 1976, the Friends of Photography asked her to teach a workshop, and her teaching career began. “For the last twenty years,” says Casanave, “I have earned my living as a photographer and a photography teacher, 26 Martha Casanave
while working on projects of my own, exhibiting, publishing, and selling my pho- tographs.” I recently had the opportunity to talk with Martha Casanave about her involvement in and passion for photography.
GRACE SCHAUB: What attracts you to photography? MARTHA CASANAVE: I became hooked very early. I photographed everyone and everything. I was shy, and I felt safer with a camera, and it became my way of relating to others. I wasn’t conscious of this until my twenties, when I realized that my photography had interfered with the development of social skills. I became very depressed and almost decided to give up photography. Then I reasoned to myself that I couldn’t throw away all those years of practice! Those years had honed my vision, so I stayed with it, thank God. GS: What processes and materials best express your art? MC: I have never been very interested in camera equipment. I don’t keep up on what’s new. Today I am still using the Nikon F2 I got in 1972. For larger format I use an old Toyo Field camera I got for trade in 1980. For metering I use a Pentax spot meter. As far as which camera, fi lm paper, and printing techniques I use, that depends entirely on the subject matter. I feel that the technique I choose must enhance the concept. Pinhole works well, for example, when I’m dealing with memories or dreams. (I adapt both my large and small cam- eras with pinholes.) For example, when I wanted to portray Leningrad in winter as a literary myth—instead of a con- temporary, bustling metropolis—I chose pinhole. The expo- sures were so long that moving vehicles simply disappeared. People’s clothing and hair styles were indistinct, and there was nothing in the pictures to date them. Another example of matching technique to subject mat- ter was another project I did in the U.S.S.R. I used the small camera, often with a 28mm lens to create some distortion, and then I hand-colored the photograph, but in the wrong Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 colors. That was the only way I, as an outsider, could express my feelings about the Soviet Union, and my attraction to it. One of my Russian friends said about the work: “This isn’t about Russia at all—it’s about you!” And of course he was right. In the end, that’s what made the work distinctive. GS: Would you talk about your portraiture? MC: I am known in my community primarily for my portraiture, and indeed, I have done portraits longer and more consistently than anything else. I don’t strive to capture any kind of “truth” or “essence” about a person, because I think it is an impos- Martha Casanave 27
sible task. I don’t even like those words. Truth is an illusion. The “truest” thing you can say about people is that they are mysterious, complex, and inconsistent. To complicate matters, everyone has a camera persona. A person will never be com- pletely natural in front of a camera. We—that is, photographer and subject—approach the encounter with different motives. I always remember Roland Barthes’ words about sitting for a portrait, “In front of the lens, I am at the same time: the one I think I am, the one I want others to think I am, the one the photographer thinks I am, and the one he makes use of to exhibit his art.” Quite complicated, right? GS: I know you are a project-oriented photographer. Would you talk about some of your projects? MC: I am very project-oriented—not by any conscious intention— I just evolved that way. My projects are all closely related to my life at the moment, both emotionally and physically. For example, I believe (in retrospect) that I started doing pinhole photography at a time when my eyesight started to deterio- rate. You don’t have to focus! I did a series of pinhole “nar- rative” pictures in my studio between 1984 and 1992. I call them “narratives” because each picture has a story, or, more accurately, many possible stories. I begin with my own story, or idea, then I ask friends and acquaintances to be “actors.” I discuss my ideas with them and get their input. It becomes a collaboration. The end product is ambiguous, but evocative. These images are very personal, but they can apply, I think, to many women’s lives, so taken together, they have a collective, feminist perspective. Some of these were published recently in Diane Neumaier’s book Reframings: New American Feminist Photographers. I did a series of collages that also had a feminist perspective, but with a more political—and sometimes humorous—approach than pinhole work. They deal mostly with how women are repre- sented in the media. Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 A project close to my heart is the most recent. I call it “Beware of Dog.” I think of it as a result of an undiagnosed illness which I endured for at least fi ve years. Aside from the collages I mentioned (which I could do sitting down), I stopped doing personal photography entirely in 1992. In 1994, I adopted a dog for companionship, as I had become socially isolated, depressed, and too fatigued to do anything except barely eke out a living. Finally, in 1996, I was diag- nosed with a disorder called neurally mediated hypotension, and put on medication. That very day I began photographing 28 Martha Casanave
the dog. I needed to use my camera to celebrate her compan- ionship and support through those dark years. As my health returned, I then began photographing her at play outdoors. The exuberant motion pictures symbolized my own return of energy, my return to normalcy. Early this year I began a new project about food and sex, which I call “Kitchen Kama Sutra.” It is about love, joy, humor, and nourishment, and refl ects my gratitude to be alive and healthy, and working and interacting with people again. GS: What do you hope to achieve with your students? MC: I teach a lot. I teach master classes on the portrait and on the nude, classes for women, classes on creativity, and beginning photography at Cabrillo College. I love teaching. I think the essence of what I try to communicate is that students need to believe in themselves, to practice a lot, and to take risks. I try not to be judgmental about the kind of work a student or workshop participant does. I only encourage them to be really honest with themselves, and then do the very best work they can. This requires taking the time to really look at their own work. You know, photography is so fast compared to other arts. Beginning photographers are often greedy for images—they don’t spend enough time or fi lm photographing their chosen subject. They don’t spend enough time with contact sheets; they don’t know how to edit their work. These activities are all part of the creative photographic process and require time and close attention. Also, I don’t allow my beginning students to crop their pictures. They must print everything full-frame. By the end of the semester they do that automati- cally, and have learned to see the whole frame while they are photographing. 35mm is a wonderful format, or shape, for dynamic composition. People who habitually crop their pictures in the darkroom don’t ever learn to really see. While they photograph they are thinking, “If this doesn’t turn out I Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 can fi x it later.” In my opinion that is careless and inattentive. GS: Would you discuss your perspective that pictures are “gifts that we receive rather than shots we either capture or lose.” MC: I really dislike the slang of photography—it’s so laden with aggressive hunting and stalking metaphors. We load, aim, and shoot—we capture. If we miss a shot, we’ve lost it. This way of talking started very early on in photography advertising, but there is no good reason we have to conceive of photography that way. It’s just like, you can think of your glass as half full or half empty—it’s the same thing but the implication is very Martha Casanave 29
different. Why can’t we think of the aperture’s opening and closing as receiving images? Why can’t we think of the number of images out there as infi nite? Why can’t we think of images as gifts which choose us, rather than trophies we grab? In my classes I ask students to think about these things, to slow down, and try not to use the word “shoot” for the duration of the workshop or semester. They get used to it after a while. GS: When teaching a workshop on the nude, how do you encour- age students, as you say, “to move beyond the limitation of see- ing the nude solely in terms of form?” MC: First of all, I try to acquaint students with a little of the his- tory of the nude in art, and also the history of fashion—by that I mean the history of fashionable body shapes—so they’ll have a better perspective on what’s fashionable today, what the stereotypes are (the passive female and the active male, for example), and how arbitrary they are. Then I encourage them to continually question their own motives and examine their own attractions so they can eventually bring their own point of view to their work, instead of repeating what others have done. One of my workshop students ended up incorporating her nude photos into three-dimensional pieces, using found objects—objects laden with meaning, like mirrors, medicine cabinets, shoes, etc. It is wonderful work, and she is now having her fi rst exhibit. GS: Do you feel that women are treated on an equal footing with men in photography? MC: No, I don’t think women are on an equal footing with men in any sphere. It is diffi cult now, because women—in this society anyway—have made tremendous strides, and there is the feel- ing that we shouldn’t complain. Feminism has gotten a bad rap, but we need to keep working on the inequalities, to keep speaking out when we see, hear, or experience gender or racial bias, and we still need “consciousness raising” to even learn how to notice the inequalities! Men and women should be Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 working together on this—it is everyone’s problem. GS: What is the biggest obstacle women artists/photographers must face? MC: The particular obstacles that women artists/photographers face have to do with setting aside time and space for work. There is still the perception that a woman is selfi sh if she carves out time and space for her art, especially if she has children. And because of this perception, women haven’t developed the persistence men have, to keep pursuing and showing their art. Women tend to give up more easily. I am gratifi ed that 30 Martha Casanave
some of the great women photographers like Tina Modotti and Lee Miller are fi nally getting the public attention they deserve, even if it is too late for them. And there are many wonderful women photographers working and showing and publishing now. Things are much better than they used to be, but we shouldn’t allow ourselves to become complacent. Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 4 WALTER CHAPPELL
View Camera Magazine , May 1997
Walter Chappell (1925–2000) was an accomplished poet, painter, composer, and printmaker whose photography was imbued with his philosophical and spiritual thoughts. As a young man he studied both architectural drawing and musical composition. His friendship and work association with Minor White led him to explore photography deeply, and he moved to Rochester, New York, to study printmaking with White, and there he wrote and edited for Aperture magazine, assisted White in his workshops, and worked as curator at the George Eastman House. Chappell was a founding member of the Association of Heliographers Gallery Archive in New York City, after which he moved to Big Sur, Cali- fornia, and then to Northern New Mexico where he further pursued his interest in images of the human form and particularly the nude in the land- scape, as well as his spiritual studies that included Native American ceremo- nial life. He then moved again to San Francisco in the late sixties and began his exper- imental work of imaging living plants in high-voltage fi elds, which resulted in his “Metafl ora Portfolio” work. In the late seventies he was awarded a National Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 Endowment for the Arts Fellowship, and he lived in Hilo, Hawaii, as artist-in- residence at the Volcano Arts Center. This interview was conducted at Walter’s old adobe home and workspace just outside El Rito, New Mexico, at the edge of the Carson National For- est, where he had moved in 1987. It is here in El Rito where Walter seemed to have found the passion to explore his creativity and the tranquility to contemplate the mysteries of life. This is where he talked about his involve- ment with photography, music, and painting throughout his extraordinarily creative life. 32 Walter Chappell
GRACE SCHAUB: What is it about photography that is unique, and what does it allow you to do that other creative mediums do not? WALTER CHAPPELL: I was quite happy to be a painter, but what fascinated me about photography was that it presented a totally different medium to me. Photography allows access to spontaneity. It is the instantaneous aperture that you can suddenly go through, which otherwise is a stone wall. With painting or drawing, you attempt to go around that wall. Photography is nonlinear, it’s instantaneous consump- tion. It’s an immediate and all-inclusive sense of being in the moment, whereas other mediums are more in time or are realized more in a process. In other words, the conceiving of an image is an instantaneous execution. Photography does become linear when you fi x the image, when you process the fi lm and print the negative. This is how I saw photogra- phy when I fi rst came to it. At that time I was a very active painter. As a visual artist, photography allowed an access into instantaneousness. GS: How would you compare photography to music? WC: Photography is very similar to music, which is also instantane- ous. I studied music from the time I was a young child and was very acquainted with this. Strike a note and suddenly out of nowhere there is a vibration singing in space, a coagulation of a tone from nothing. This has always mystifi ed me, and it still does. Likewise with photography and sight. What you see you can coagulate, and that’s where my idea of making an image with a camera—a “camera vision” image—came from. I coined the term “camera vision” a long time ago. You can coagulate or nucleate out of chaos a cogent image of some kind by seeing through an aperture of instantaneous possibility. GS: Would you share with us your approach out in the fi eld? What draws you to a subject, and what makes you want to photograph one subject over another? WC: To be out in the fi eld in concrete reality, as we will call it, you Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 see things and you can get these bio-refl exes—a comprehension which is very fl eeting. This is when a hand camera comes in handy, because you can freeze frames. It is fascinating to freeze a running image or freeze parts of it. The subject suddenly becomes very cogent in a spirit kind of way. This is the result of camera technology. But this technology is still rough compared with what you can do with your own mind: it is there, and with a push-button equation you can get things you could never get out of other mediums. GS: How do you develop that camera vision? Walter Chappell 33
WC: I believe you have to start from the inside. In your mind there has to be a conscious awakening—an awareness. It’s very mys- terious work, but you become aware of something if you pon- der about things as they are running through your mind. I don’t mean daydreams or associations, but ideas that are very meaningful, or in-depth thoughts which you dwell on like, “What is life?” Everyone has this abyss they’re carrying around which they look at every once in a while. That’s the depth of being that wants to function in phenomena. That’s how we all got here somehow. We carry this with us all the time, and it’s a matter of developing it and becoming more and more conscious and getting to that interior point or center of gravity, and making a center of gravity out of it that you then work from and come back out of. Somewhere somebody invented a camera as a way out. Before photography you could paint your way out or play an instrument as a way out. GS: The process begins internally? WC: A really meaningful expression has to come from the inside. The idea has to be there fi rst. Maybe we are deaf and blind to it until something begins to open up. Then you learn to catch it and hold it and be able to dwell on it long enough to begin to func- tion with some kind of instrument, if only to draw on a piece of paper, or use a piece of charcoal to scratch on a rock. Think about petroglyphs. It takes a long time to make a petroglyph on a rock—you have to hold that image in your mind for a long time. With a camera you can do it in an instant, but the idea has to be there fi rst. GS: But can all images bear the scrutiny of meaningfulness? WC: Since its invention the camera has been grabbed by people over and over again who had nothing in mind except seeing some- thing and making a document of what they had seen. They didn’t discover anything. I think a lot of landscape photography is like that. “Landscape” is a coined word somehow, of bring- Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 ing back a souvenir. It’s become a record of the fact that you have seen something out in nature and that this place actually exists. For instance, the photographs of Yosemite Valley by Wil- liam Henry Jackson. GS: So, it’s a matter of surface and depth, as you say—that access to the instantaneous. WC: You begin with what you saw on the surface, the peripheral surface, and gradually you go deeper. You go back in and come back out again. Your mode of operation is always on the periph- ery when it comes to a camera. And then it becomes something 34 Walter Chappell
more if you really have something you want to express from the interior. It’s the best way to hold that image of what you want to express intact. But it’s a diffi cult thing. It’s concentrating and retaining that image in your awareness. In that way you build up a fi eld of awareness that you can depend on. GS: When did you fi rst develop this awareness? WC: I think I realized this fi rst through music. I began studying music at the age of 4. I had a very good teacher, and I was very taken with the mystery of where sounds came from, beyond the plucking of strings. As a child I was especially affected by the natural fact that sound vibrations linger in the air and affect you completely, right down into your bones. This has always had a great effect on me. Music was my strongest activity, along with drawing and painting, all through my childhood. GS: When did you become involved with photography? WC: As a youth I played around with photography, but I didn’t really think much about it. My mother had a Brownie box camera, and my father and I set up a darkroom at home in the base- ment and made contact prints in the sink and dried them on a radiator. GS: When did photography as a medium of self-expression become more meaningful for you? WC: I didn’t start serious photography until 1954, when I had to give up painting for a while due to a very serious illness. But I had met Minor White years before when I was about 15 or 16 years old on Mt. Saint Helens. So, at a young age, I became very familiar with one of the rare people at that time who was really working very hard trying to fi nd out what creative photography was and what it could be. That was very early in his career. He started out in Portland, Oregon. GS: How did the meeting come about? WC: I met Minor White on a skiing expedition one winter. He had gone because he liked to ski, and he brought his view camera along to photograph the mountain and people skiing. That was Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 about the fi rst time I had ever been close to somebody work- ing with a view camera on a tripod, and this really struck me. It looked like quite an ordeal. He carried this large camera and had 4 x 5 dark slides in his rucksack. He was very interested in music also, and in metaphysics, which I was already interested in myself. We had quite an exchange in that way, talking about things as well as this mysterious thing he was doing with pho- tography. GS: You shared a friendship with Minor White for some time, is that right? Walter Chappell 35
WC: We became lifelong friends. He invited me to come by and look him up in Portland, which I did just a few days after I got back, and that’s when I saw his darkroom in the broom closet at the Y, where he was developing and printing. He infl uenced me a great deal about photography. He was a very serious artist working in the medium of creative photography. His artistic development was unfolding throughout this time, as was mine, and it was a unique experience in my life knowing and being close to another artist throughout my life. Minor White made an immense impression on me. It was Minor White who introduced me to Edward Weston, later, after the Second World War. Minor was taking photographic fi eld trips down to Point Lobos. He was crazy about making portraits, and he put me in a lot of his photo- graphs at Point Lobos. That’s where I met Weston and saw a lot of Weston’s prints, which made an immense impression on me. I had no idea that photography could turn out anything like this. It was a sudden revelation. Weston’s work really did affect me much more than Minor’s work, because it was actu- ally where Minor’s inspiration came from. And that was a big thing for me. I also met Ansel Adams, who I thought was a fantastic calendar artist and quite a joker, too. But it was Edward who really impressed me. In the late forties—1948 or 1949—Edward was getting to the point where he couldn’t make it out to photograph due to his illness, Parkinson’s dis- ease. But we would still go down to see him. I read all of his Day Books, which were being put into manuscript form at the time. I’d sit down there and read this stuff and look at his prints all day long. It made a real strong impression on me as to the seriousness that this medium could actually achieve. And I thought about that. I was painting all the time, but photogra- phy was always in the back of my mind. GS: When did you actually get a camera and begin photographing? Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 WC: At some point I became quite ill and eventually wound up in the National Jewish Hospital in Denver, where I fi nally recovered. While residing at the hospital I reacquainted myself with an old friend, Arnold Gaston, whom I had met in New Orleans and who now lived in Denver. I bought a 4 5 Grafl ex camera for $75 and a Dagor 9-inch lens and a longer extension bellows with the curtain focal plane shutter. Another friend showed me how to modify it, and we cleaned it all up, tightened up the spring, and got it in perfect working condition. 36 Walter Chappell
I made a leather hood that went on top of the ground glass, which is on top. The ground glass is usually quite dark, and it’s very hard to see, so I cut a condenser lens and put it on top of the ground glass. So now I had this “Hasselblad,” really—that looked like it had elephantitis—and I would just go around looking at everything through this. It was fascinat- ing for a while. The fi rst fi lm I ever dared to load turned out to be backwards, so the fi rst slides were just blank, which was rather disappointing, but I immediately reloaded and never made that mistake again. In my hospital room I had a tank where I could develop fi lm and hang it up in the windowsill with thumbtacks. That is how I started serious photography. I became more and more involved and apprenticed with a friend who had a darkroom and lived near the hospital. I got a very good grounding in photo chemistry from him. We started going on fi eld trips. Arnold Gaston sometimes joined in, and a few other people in Denver became interested. We had a group that really became quite active in going out and exploring how to make interesting images with a view camera. GS: And the approach came to you as you worked? WC: That was when I began to develop my ideas about photography. I had plenty of time—I was hospitalized, and this was a perfect interval to generate and hatch and take over my whole visual process from painting to photography. It became my transfor- mation into another medium. Occasionally, I would draw or use watercolors, but photography gradually overtook what I had been doing, and an exchange of media took place. GS: That was in the early fi fties? WC: That was in 1954. When I got out of the hospital I came down here to the Southwest. By that time, Minor was working at Eastman House in Rochester, New York, as the curator with Beaumont Newhall. We were corresponding off and on. And by that time, Aperture magazine had been out for a couple of years. Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 GS: What was your involvement with Aperture magazine? WC: When I was in San Francisco, and Aperture was getting off the ground, I contributed some ideas to it, but when it was fi rst published I wasn’t really a photographer. I simply encouraged Minor, who wasn’t sure whether he should get involved or not. It was a can of worms, really, to get involved. And although other people were interested, fi nally he was the only one who would do it, edit it, and take the responsibility to get the thing out. Minor modeled Aperture after Stieglitz’s magazine, Camera Work . I think that inspired him, and he thought he could use it Walter Chappell 37
to help in his fascination with teaching, which, in a way, it did. He made a very serious fi rst-class magazine on photography. It was about the only one that existed at that time, and even yet. GS: Is this when you joined Minor White in Rochester? WC: I decided to go to New York and visit Minor in Rochester. I put all my stuff in a trailer and drove there. I wound up staying in his attic. At that time he didn’t even have a darkroom in his fl at because he was so busy at the museum. The problem is that museum work takes all of your time. I came to Rochester with all this fi lm that I shot down in New Mexico and on the way up north, with what Beaumont Newhall called my “South- west modifi ed Grafl ex.” I had a rectilinear Dagor 9-inch lens with one element, and an 18-inch lens that doubled the focal length. I made a big snoot out of a piece of cardboard and fi t baffl es into it so that there wouldn’t be any fl are inside. I had this perfect, long 19-inch lens coming out of this Grafl ex, which I carried around, and would get this enormous image on the ground glass, which just fascinated me. I went around studying what would happen by moving the bellows in and out and just dwelling on it as a form of direct visual contem- plation. I did a lot of that, and once in a while I would dare to make an exposure and go through the rest of the process. And then fi nally when I got back to Rochester and saw Minor, he said, “You better really learn how to print if you’re going to see like this. You can’t express what you see unless you learn how to print,” and he said, “Your prints are just lousy.” So I stayed there, camped out in his attic, worked on his darkroom, and studied printmaking. I got the darkroom up and running, developed my fi lm, and that got him back into printing and back into his own work again, because he had taken an academic detour with the museum work. He was also putting out another maga- zine called “Image.” Aside from this, he was working on and writing for Aperture , which he laid out in his fl at. For two or Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 three months he had this paper strewn all over his fl at, putting together another issue of Aperture . It was a very exciting scene he had going there. He then decided to give workshops as a way to further develop his own work. His work and teaching became inter- twined for some reason. I had wondered whether that was really necessary, but it seemed to be for Minor. GS: Do you consider yourself a student of Minor White? WC: We exchanged a great deal of material between us on another level—the metaphysics of seeing. We worked on all that 38 Walter Chappell
material, but I never studied photography as one of his stu- dents. We were very good friends, and we had a terrifi c rap- port and a highly integrated relationship. And at that time, it had nothing to do with teaching but rather a total explora- tion of the world through camera vision, and trying to put this somehow into words—he tried, which he always liked to do, and that’s where his teaching thing came in. Personally I think it interfered with his work in a way and hampered him somewhat as an artist. He was trying to formulate a theory so that he could go on and teach it. It sometimes worked. But I don’t believe you can teach art to anybody, really, and I don’t know if that really should be done. A lot of it is done, and we see the results. Minor came up with the idea of “visual illiteracy,” which is why we can’t comprehend what we see. The formation of a cogent photographic image is a very powerful thing, and yet we cannot seem to comprehend it as we can words on a printed page. If you look through copies of Aperture before 1957, they tend to be very intellectual with a lot of writing and very few pictures. But in 1957, 1958, and 1959 there are more and more picture portfolios included. Other magazines about visual expression and photography were mostly all in words—theory, critique—which I thought was very peculiar. GS: Is this the time Paul Caponigro became involved with White? WC: Yes, about that time, Paul Caponigro came along and wanted to study with Minor. We were getting together to share our insights. We were exploring how we were affected by going out in the fi eld and fi nding things, how we found them, and coming back and exchanging what we found. The three of us would go out on fi eld trips together and come back with entirely different things, and we would study that as objec- tively as possible to fi nd out what was going on and what was concrete reality. GS: Can you give an example of that? Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 WC: We once went out together to a spot where a lot of Dutch Elm trees were cut down because of a virus that was affl ict- ing that particular species. Minor heard that an entire stand of Dutch Elms had been cut down with a chain saw somewhere outside of Rochester, and he decided this would be a great place for the three of us to go at dawn. We went, and when we got out there it was below zero. It was so cold our lenses were practically frozen. We spent the whole day photograph- ing together out there, totally independent of one another. When we got back we developed our fi lm right away and Walter Chappell 39
made some work prints and fi nally got together to see what we had. Each of us had a totally different way of seeing these trees cut down. It was amazing, and this really struck us very deeply. They were all very interesting images for each of us, but all very different with no resemblance to one another. This brought into question the conjunction of time and place where an image can be made. The conjunction of time and place is affected by a third factor—which comes from the mind you bring with you. GS: So you began to extrapolate the ideas from your experiences? WC: In going through all of this we discovered there is a very special thing going on. Photography is amazing when you approach it consciously. You’re looking for a match to a particular feeling you have inside in concrete reality, a match that works in an emotional and thought form. It’s something that you’ve been able to get to the point of holding in your mind that you want to materialize by means of concrete matter, which is on the other side of the lens. The lens becomes the conduit that goes into your mind and out the other side. In this way you bring together, on the ground glass, fi ne particle impressions that actually fuse. The trick is to remain aware long enough, which goes back to some way of practicing, or some form of meditation that will allow you to expand your capacity to remain aware. It is as simple as that, and yet it is very diffi cult, because at the same time life and all of its problems are going on without cessa- tion. Developing and holding onto that awareness is an extra special practice. GS: Does metaphor play a large role in your work? WC: Yes, metaphor is about where we leave off, and yet it is a tricky word, and it is mostly a literary term. Visual metaphor—it is not quite the right expression. GS: Would visual analogies or equivalents be more fi tting? I was thinking of the series of photographs of cloud formations by Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 Alfred Stieglitz called “equivalents.” WC: Actually Stieglitz talked a lot about this whole idea of “equiva- lents.” It is the basis of what he was exploring. And he got as far as he got with it because he would look around to fi nd a way of expressing his inner life. That is why those cloud pictures are so critical to the idea of “equivalents.” He simply called them “equivalents,” but clouds are the freest and most fl uid moving light forms. He was dealing entirely with light, which is won- derful because that’s all there is. That’s the only matter there really is—light photons. 40 Walter Chappell
GS: To me, some of your strongest work deals with the formations in rock—the crystallization of very solid forms. WC: That is what I search for. You could say everything in concrete matter is a manifestation of energy, like a tree is a manifestation of solar energy. To be more specifi c, I look for vital energy. I think all of my images are devoted to that specifi c thing, and once I realized that, it was very simple, but it took a long time to realize what I was doing and what it was leading toward. Because that’s a very strange concept, going around looking for energy. Really, it is! That’s what built up my body of work, which is really a study of the manifestation of energy—vital energy in different forms. GS: How do you apply this approach to your studies of the human form? WC: With all the pictures of the nude human form I’ve made there’s a whole category of different investigations of vital energy as manifested in the human form. That energy can be seen in ges- ture and confi guration, or whatever. GS: What did mastering the art of black and white printing allow you to express in your work? WC: When I really learned how to make a good print I found what you could do with the negative, paper, and the careful use of chemicals. Here are three points again, and all you have to work are these three points to cause a manifestation: a positive, a negative, and reconciling the two—that’s what makes eve- rything manifest. And you can always fi nd those three points. Whatever you want to call it—spirit, matter, where you fi nd yourself in the conjunction of time and place, and the idea, and how it fi ts—that then causes another manifestation. All the qualities of that manifestation which come into the image are fi nally realized in the print. You also learn a great deal when making a print. It’s a whole metaphysical journey unto itself if you follow through with what you initiated in the fi eld. You recreate this as far as you can Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 go in the linear process in the darkroom. You are on another journey, which is just as important as the fi rst part—maybe more so because you are expressing the fi nal results of what you have already experienced, and are creating another unknown result. And if you really are serious, you’ve made your own stepping stones through chaos, because we really are living in chaos. You don’t realize how much we are really living in chaos, but you make something of it, or it just turns to chaos. GS: So these images are milestones or stepping stones through some chaotic domain. Is that right? Walter Chappell 41
WC: Yes. Now we have a chaos theory, which is very interesting. The idea of chaos theory includes strange attractors coming in and causing interference, coming in and going out and going into another chaos. It’s like watching bubbles in a stream, and the way foam goes into an eddy and goes around in a swirl and goes out, and then does the same thing as it runs down the river. As the water fl ows it runs into impediments—rocks, or wood—and fl ows out, and then runs into another impediment. From the very beginning I have photographed light on water, which I’ve observed ever since I was a child. It is all going in a different rhythm, and if you really shoot fast enough you can almost still it, although it runs through your visual mind like lightning. All this light glitters on water. Pure light and the pat- terns of tension on the water as it moves—all these fi ne lines. GS: Would you talk about your Metafl ora photographs? WC: Well, in 1976 I began working with high-voltage fi elds and plants as another form of energy manifestation. The energy fi eld already exists in the plant, but somehow we can’t see it as matter. I found that when sending fresh electrons through the plant’s energy fi eld the electrons get excited and turn into photons and they expose the fi lm without any camera at all. It all has to do with energy manifestation. All and all, it’s like being inside a camera, but without optics, and in direct contact with the fi lm. There is no lens system or distance from subject to fi lm—it’s direct impact and direct energy through the energy fi eld. GS: This level of visual awareness seems a rather intense space to be in. WC: This is living a little more intensely. You have to get accustomed to living like this and functioning in that velocity of energy. What you are doing is generating much more energy. There is nothing in our ordinary life that calls for such awareness. We’re just supposed to go to work, pay our taxes, shut up, and go to sleep. GS: How do you deal with the intensity and energy of big cities Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 such as New York or Los Angeles? WC: I go into samadhi. I studied yoga when I was a child and have been practicing yoga and meditation for a long time. The state of samadhi always interested me. It’s very much akin to mak- ing an image. The mind becomes focused on one point, and from there you can go out the other side and enter a state of samadhi, and stay in that state for some time. A lot of musicians are trained that way, to listen down to a point where you hear everything and nothing, and you can’t be disturbed. The Indian Sanskrit word for it is samadhi , which is well within the realm 42 Walter Chappell
of possibility. But this idea usually remains dormant and unde- veloped in people; nothing in our lives calls for anything like that because we just jitterbug around like a bunch of robots. It doesn’t seem to be needed. GS: Perhaps it is very much needed in a world that is fi lled with distraction, noise, and confusion. WC: And fractured to pieces. We all have this ability, but we don’t use it, or we don’t know how to use it. The Taoist ideas have always been very diffi cult for us to understand because they’ve been translated into a language that doesn’t have a proper way of translating pictographs into words. It’s very dubious because it’s all image, pictographic and coded language, and goes back to direct visual comprehension, like Egyptian hieroglyphics, which are based on direct visual comprehension. You read it picto- graphically. Pictographs, and also petroglyphs on rock—that is direct visual language and transmission of a direct visual image. If you go to that level in that part of the mind you comprehend what it was—it’s a direct transmission. GS: Can they be read as what Jung described as archetypes? WC: Well, archetypes are very basic ideas that pop up, no matter where, because they are very basic to humanity and events. These are basic confi gurations that come about in living a human life. Archetypal spokes to the wheel hold the wheel together. There are so many of them. In the I Ching, there are 64 archetypal changes that go on continually in civilization. This was discov- ered over 8000 years ago by some attentive, aware minds with no technical paraphernalia whatsoever, except their own inner minds. It shows you how far off the track we’ve gone. We’re going around almost like termites now—we still have a human form, but we’re so unaware of our interior mental equipment and how much we can comprehend that it’s practically useless. Look at our own relationship to our bodies. We don’t know anything about our bodies. There are many different systems of medicine in the world and throughout history. The Egyptians Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 had a very elaborate system of medicine. And the Chinese. It’s only recently that the West has become aware of acupuncture, acupressure, and herbal medicine. It’s been practiced for at least 8000 years before it ever got to be notated. GS: So visual comprehension gets lost in the shuffl e. WC: It all goes back to how we directly, visually comprehend where we are. We are totally surrounded by chaos, and we are the one strange attractor to the chaos around us. How much of an attractor are we? How much can we accommodate or take in at any one moment or at any one event through experience? How Walter Chappell 43
much can we experience? All of these are really simple ques- tions; they may sound very abstract, but they’re not. Think of your head as a fi ne instrument such as the view camera—your ground glass is in the back of your head and your eyes are the lens. The bellows is in between the two, and we’re continually using these unconsciously to do everything. GS: When do exposures—fi xed images—begin? WC: It takes some kind of a conscious, aware action to get to the point of being heroic enough to make an exposure out of the perception that you can hold long enough. You should take your time and dwell on something with a ground glass at least 4 x 5 or 5 x 7 inches in size. Actually 8 x 10 inches is about as big as your head—which really is impressive, because when you get under the dark cloth it’s a mystical experience right there. The velocity of impressions coming into you is enough to put you in a state of ecstasy for a while, until you get accustomed to that way of seeing. And the thing is, if you continue to think like you usually do with everything else—with all that stuff running through your mind and using up your attention—the impressions go through you without any chance of insight. You have to be aware of this and step back or they’ll just keep going. But if you are aware and dwell on something, you fi nd it, this point of awareness. Then pick something, and really connect with it. It’s a strenuous exercise to divide your attention in order to fi nally get a hold on what it is you’re seeking. Then you can include the camera, but you have to do it step by step. But the camera is just marvelous. It’s something that always brings you back to the point you found. You can also see the effect your attention has on people who weren’t there, which is very worthwhile to study as well. That’s part of the process. GS: That’s the importance of the realization of the print. WC: You put the print out there, and then you see what it does to people in their fi eld of awareness. People have more or less Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 awareness as to the way they look at a thing. What was on your mind when you made the picture may be on the viewer’s mind at the other end of the process, and that is the response. You can learn a great deal from that because it is really you—the other people are really you as well, responding on the other end of the photographic process. So you have these loops that you create, and the more aware you become of them the more real life becomes. It’s the real thing. This page intentionally left blank Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 5 JODI COBB
Photographer’s Forum , May 1988
Jodi Cobb worked as a staff photographer for National Geographic magazine starting in 1977, although her fi rst assignment for them came years before. She began her career as a writer, but soon found that photography was her choice. A graduate of the University of Missouri, Cobb was nominated for a Pulitzer Prize, won a World Press Award, and was honored by the National Press Photographers Association. In 1985 she was named White House Photographer of the Year. Her books before and since this interview include her contributions to National Geographic’s Journey into China (1982), The Wall: Images and Offerings from the Vietnam Veterans Memorial (1987), The Way Home: Ending Homelessness in America (1999), and her own Geisha: The Life, the Voices, the Art (1995). Cobb lectures and teaches workshops around the world, and has received an honorary Doctorate of the Arts from the Corcoran College of Art and Design in Washington, D.C. She has done editorial work for New York Magazine , photo- graphed on the Day in the Life projects, and has contributed to numerous books produced by the National Geographic Society. Her work has taken her around the world and into an intimate and reveal- ing relationship with her stories and her subjects. Among stories she has done for Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 National Geographic are “21st-Century Slaves,” “The Enigma of Beauty,” and “Bahia, Where Brazil Was Born.” She was featured in National Geographic’s book, Women Photographers at National Geographic (2000), and many of her prints were in the traveling exhibit that resulted. The interview with her not only reveals her vast curiosity about and compas- sion for people but the amount of time, effort, and energy required to get her stories done. She also reveals the workings of one of the most exciting photo/ story magazines of the time, and of today, and the incredible resources expended in the effort. 46 Jodi Cobb
GRACE SCHAUB: How has your background as a journalist contributed to your career as a photographer? JODI COBB: I am issue-oriented. When doing a story for the National Geo- graphic , I like to set out and follow a theme or an idea. I am very concerned with the issues that are facing the people in the places where I do a story. GS: Have you written any stories for the National Geographic ? JC: No, not for the Geographic , but I would like to start writing again. On a Geographic story it would tend to take twice as long if you were writing and photographing the story. They really are two different things. It’s always a confl ict as to which device you should pick up. GS: Do you write the captions for your photographs? JC: At the Geographic Society there is a department that does what we call “legends.” I usually interview the people I photograph at great length and keep detailed notes. I try to get as much infor- mation as I can, because there is a better chance of using the picture if there is a valid editorial reason to do so. Sometimes, a picture that you personally love can be marginal in the context of the story. But if you make an interesting editorial point about that picture it might just give them a reason to use it. GS: Do you feel the editors select your best work? JC: For a recent story on the women of Arabia, I felt we were close on the selections, much more than any other story in the past. For that story, however, there wasn’t a whole lot of material because it was so diffi cult photographing women in Arabia to begin with. GS: The stories covered in the National Geographic are quite extensive. How much time are you given for an assignment? JC: Essentially what they do is remove a photographer’s best excuses as to why they can’t do a story. They give you as much time and money as you need, and that’s enough rope to hang yourself. It’s the last great magazine in that sense. The networks seem to have taken over the function of the unlimited budgets. But this is all Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 within reason. They will blow the whistle on you if you are out there for months and months and not getting your story together. But if things are going terrifi c and wonderful, they will give you all the support and encouragement you need. GS: How much research do you do for a story? JC: Lots of research. I like to read all the guidebooks and factual accounts. But I also like to read the fi ction written about the country to get the feel of the place and the subtle insights you can get from novelists. GS: So there’s a lot of involvement in a story. Jodi Cobb 47
JC: Yes, you could be living and breathing one story for a long while—in fact, a year or so isn’t uncommon. There’s the prepa- ration, research, getting visas, etc. Also, when you return it takes time to edit—and you’re defi nitely around for the editing and layout sessions. Then there is the wrap-up work to be done, prints to send the people who helped, thank-you notes, and so forth. GS: How many stories are you assigned per year? JC: Generally, people do two major stories a year. These stories can be 30 to 50 pages in length. GS: When you’re on assignment, do you send all your fi lm back to the Geographic Society? JC: Yes. I never see it. I ship it back. Sometimes I’ll shoot a whole story without seeing a single frame until I get back months later—which is a great incentive to keep working. GS: Do you shoot a lot of fi lm? JC: About 300 rolls for an assignment. You shoot a lot of fi lm because fi lm is the cheapest part of the assignment. Even that amount is small when you compare it to how much it costs for you to be there every day, or how much the helicopter rental is for the aerial shots. You cover an incredible amount of subjects because, in some cases, you are doing a story on the whole country. So there are a lot of areas to explore. Insecurity does raise its ugly head every now and then as to why so much fi lm is shot, but when you think about it, it averages out to about four rolls of fi lm a day. This isn’t that unusual for any newspaper photographer working the same amount of time. GS: How do you gather your information for a story? JC: While you’re in the fi eld, you’re really doing a lot of investigative journalism. Usually, I don’t work with a writer, so in my mind I am the writer, researcher, editor, assignment editor, secretary, and photographer. I make all the phone calls and take all the mes- sages. I fi nd all the people I want to photograph, what I want to photograph, and where. That’s the great joy of the work! That’s Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 what is really fascinating—it’s also what makes it a lot harder. But you become very personally involved with the story, because, in a sense, it is your story. GS: But there are times when you cover a story with a writer, such as “The Women of Saudi Arabia” piece. JC: There are times I work directly with a writer. We discover things and give each other ideas as we go along, which I love. It is another set of eyes and ears—especially if you are simpatico. At other times, the story is written fi rst and you get a completed manuscript, an outline with names and situations so you know 48 Jodi Cobb
what to photograph for the story. Each way of working is differ- ent, and a different challenge for me. GS: What photographs give you the most satisfaction? JC: I like the “fl y on the wall” shots—being the invisible person. Things are happening around you, but you are not creating them. I really don’t like to go in and set up photographs, to use lots of lights and arrange everyone and everything. I like it when some- thing is happening in spite of me, not because of me. This interests me as a photographer. GS: I suppose there are times when you have to do setup shots, such as portraits? JC: Yes, sometimes there can be a lot of setup portraits, especially when you are photographing royalty and the heads of state. I like to put those more formal portraits off until the end of the assign- ment, after I’ve researched the people themselves enough and know something about them. I like to “hang out” with people I photograph. In Jordan, for example, I had the opportunity to spend time with King Hussein and Queen Noor—that was really wonderful. GS: You have participated in the Day in the Life projects, where a photographer does all his or her shooting within 24 hours on one particular day. That sounds like a very different approach than what you take when working for the Geographic Society. JC: The Day in the Life assignments don’t take more than two or three weeks. The fi rst one I did was Australia. I was given the whole Borazza Valley to cover. The area is known for its vine- yards and horse farms. I thought, how am I going to do an entire Geographic assignment in one day? I ran around like a maniac—I even did aerials. I had one of the ranchers take me up in his pri- vate plane a half an hour before sunset. Later I realized I don’t need 30 wonderful pictures, I need one wonderful picture. And when I saw the kind of pictures they used, the rest of the series was much easier and more fun for me. GS: Do you shoot editorial assignments for other publications? Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 JC: Yes, just for a fresh point of view. There are different demands—you might need to work faster, or have another “look” for your pho- tographs. I’ve done some work for New York Magazine , which I enjoy very much, and I’ve done some work on books. GS: How do you feel about commercial assignments? JC: I have a lot of respect for the people who do commercial photog- raphy. I like the idea that you can be in your own kingdom for a while and that it is your own turf. I don’t rule it out as a possibility for the future, especially if I ever tire of traveling. GS: I suppose traveling as much as you do can be strenuous. Jodi Cobb 49
JC: The strains can be enormous. I’ve gotten sick everywhere I’ve been. That’s the fi rst thing that can happen to you, so you block out a week, then you get used to the water and food, and fi nd out what you like to eat, or can eat. GS: Is there anything you do to relieve the strain of travel? JC: I exercise as much as I can. Before I go to a place I call everybody I know to ask if they have any friends or know anybody there, because a personal contact in another country can make it a much more pleasant stay. GS: Do you miss traveling when you are home, in between assign- ments? JC: Yes, that’s incredible! I’m home three months, and I start looking longingly at airplanes fl ying overhead and saying, “Gosh, I wonder where they’re going,” and I start thinking my passport is out of date. So travel is addictive—it’s a real love-hate relationship. GS: Do you live in Washington, D.C.? JC: Yes, but I’m traveling most of the time so I’m not there for very long periods of time. The ideal thing would be to do a story in a place, and then go to live there. By the time you fi nish you know everybody in town, and you know everything about the place—certainly the best restaurants. You know a lot of fascinating people—a real cross-section of society. At the end of any assign- ment I’m always tempted to go there and live. GS: I suppose there is a re-entry period when you return from a long assignment overseas. JC: It’s defi nitely decompression time. You try to put your life back in order because usually your electricity has been disconnected and your house is falling apart—so there is all that to take care of, and it hits you hard. One of my colleagues was talking about it, and he said, literally, two days before he’d been home he’d spent a week, one on one, with the king of Spain—going everywhere with him, having dinner in the palace, and then two days later he fi nds himself back in Washington and his wife is asking him to take out the garbage! There is that schizophrenia. Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 GS: Most people would view the life of a photojournalist as adventur- ous and glamorous. JC: I’m of two minds on that. While I am on assignment, especially the last 8 years overseas, I was really consumed by the hardships of it all—the trips across China where I lost 15 to 20 pounds because I couldn’t eat anything, or working in the Middle East and being shot at in Jerusalem. You tend to think of the downside and are overwhelmed by the diffi culties. But now that I’ve been back in the States for a while, I look back at those times and say, “What an incredible time it was!” 50 Jodi Cobb
GS: Are people your favorite photographic subjects? JC: Yes, and I think I do that best. GS: What assignments do you look forward to doing? JC: I like stories about social issues more than those on geographic places—that’s why I love the “Women of Saudi Arabia” story so much. It was about a very small, well-defi ned group of people and what was happening to them. I didn’t have to do the aerials, the landscapes, and the industrial shots. The focus was on the people themselves and the issues around them. I would like to see the National Geographic magazine do more of that kind of story, and I would like to do it for them. GS: Is that going to be happening? JC: Yes, that is a particular interest of our new director of photogra- phy, Tom Kennedy. GS: Who are the photographers you admire? JC: There are so many of them, mainly the people who have found their voice and their vision—Kertesz, Brassai, and Robert Frank. W. Eugene Smith was a tremendous infl uence on me in the early days. GS: What about the women in photography? JC: Annie Liebowitz, Mary Ellen Mark, Jill Freedman, Joyce Tenneson—there are so many of them, and I don’t want to leave anyone out. GS: Do you have a lot to talk about when you get together? JC: Yes we do, we have a lot in common, and it’s amazing how the women do get down to meaningful conversations in a very short time. GS: When you started out in photography, was it hard for a woman to break into the fi eld? JC: At that time, I would never attribute it to being a woman. It was just the diffi culties of any young photographer trying to start out in the business that were so overwhelming to me. I never thought of myself as a woman photographer. This may have occurred because I was the only woman at any of the newspapers I worked at until I got to the Geographic , so I couldn’t objectively observe Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 how a woman was being treated by other people. GS: There were no problems when covering assignments? JC: There were the old things in the newspaper days, when I wasn’t allowed on the sidelines at the Philadelphia Eagles football games, and I wasn’t allowed in the press box at the University of Dela- ware because no women and children were permitted to be there. I remember the fi rst game I covered. During halftime, I went into the press box to get my “free” hot dog and talk to my editor. I didn’t know much about football and wanted to fi nd out who was doing particularly well, and who I should focus on. But I couldn’t Jodi Cobb 51
get in to talk to him. I was furious, and when I went back to the newspaper I told the powers-that-be about it, and they exchanged some angry letters with the university. Finally they sent me a let- ter of apology and invited me into the press box. Also the Phila- delphia Eagles let me photograph from the sidelines, but made me promise not to get hurt! The issue would come up in situations that were dangerous, especially when dealing with the police. They would let other photographers cross the police lines, and say to me, “Look, lady, it’s dangerous,” and I would say, “It’s alright, I can handle it.” So you have to prove yourself over and over and over and over again—but when you did well and didn’t embarrass them by fall- ing out of the helicopter or something like that, they gained a tremendous amount of respect for you, and some wonderful rela- tionships developed. Overseas it comes up, but you are so strange in most other countries anyway, it doesn’t really matter. I’ve always tried to take advantage of it if I could, because what else can you do—sit in your room and cry, or yell about being discriminated against? No! You do what you can do. I found a lot of it was simply male overprotectiveness. They really didn’t want me to get hurt, nor did they want me to get in the way when they were doing “manly” things. Looking back, there were a lot of things that were needless aggravations, but for the most part I had absolutely wonderful working situations, and I absolutely love the people I worked with. The guys at the Wilmington News-Journal, the Denver Post, and the National Geographic were tremendously supportive. GS: While a student at the University of Missouri, you did a photo essay that captured the attention of Cornell Capa. Was that recog- nition important to your career? JC: Yes it was. I went back to the University of Missouri to get a Masters degree in journalism. Cornell Capa came out to visit Cliff Edom, who headed the photojournalism program. Cliff was Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 tremendously supportive and made me come in to meet Cornell Capa. At that time, I had laryngitis—I’ll never forget it, I couldn’t talk and was absolutely terrifi ed to begin with. I showed him my pictures, and apparently he liked them enough to give me a grant to continue working on the project. GS: What grant was that? JC: It was a grant Capa started called the Fund for Concerned Pho- tography. Six young people under twenty-fi ve years old who were doing interesting projects were given grants to continue their work. Our work was included in an exhibition titled “Images of Concern.” 52 Jodi Cobb
GS: What was your project? JC: A photo essay on people living on a commune in the Ozark Mountains. GS: So that was a strong starting point for you. JC: Yes. First of all to know that anybody liked my work. The photo essay was also published in Camera 35 —six to eight pages of my pictures. That blew me away . . . to still be in school and have that published. I never realized how unusual all that really was. I just thought this is the way everybody does it. I thought it was all part of it. But, in retrospect, I had some really lucky breaks. GS: You were also nominated for a Pulitzer Prize during your fi rst year as a newspaper photographer. JC: I was nominated for a picture essay while working for the Wilm- ington News-Journal . I lived out in the country at the time, and did a human interest story on my landlord, a 79-year-old farmer. He and his wife farmed 200 acres all by themselves. It was as much a thrill to be nominated for a Pulitzer as to have won it. GS: When did you begin working at the National Geographic maga- zine? JC: I was hired as a staff photographer in 1977. But my working rela- tionship began with them three years before. Bill Garrett and Bob Gilka had a close connection with the University of Missouri over the years. Garrett is an alumnus, and he and Bob Gilka would go back there to teach at the Missouri Workshop, which I went to as a student. I would periodically apply for a job at the Geo- graphic and would show Gilka my portfolio. He would always say I needed more experience and send me back out there. Before I moved out to Denver from Delaware, I went down to Washington to see him again with another portfolio. I told him this was his last chance to get me before I moved way out west. He laughed and told me to go out there and get more experience. About eight months later he gave me my fi rst assignment—a trial assignment for the Geographic , and I have been working for them ever since. GS: Can you offer some advice to students and emerging photogra- Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 phers? JC: My fi rst bit of advice is to fi gure out as early as possible what your particular interest is in photography—which is always easier said than done. But listen to your inner voice, and if you really love travel, editorial, research, journalism, and most importantly being out there, then don’t go into a commercial studio. Really decide which way you want to go. If you want to go into editorial work, I think it’s very important to study as much as you can, about political science and geography. Know as much about the world, and how things work, as possible. Jodi Cobb 53
GS: Do you feel schooling is important for a photographer? JC: Yes. I don’t know if more successful photographers are coming out of journalism schools, or fi ne art schools, or as assistants. I know there are a tremendous number of photographers who started out as assistants to top name photographers, and there is a lot to be said for that. But people who are the most successful have really specialized and not tried to be the “jack of all trades.” You want to be the fi rst person that comes to mind when edi- tors or art directors think of a certain kind of photography. When there is a particular job that has to be done, they’ll think “so-and- so” is the only one who can do it. GS: You feel it’s important for a photographer to pursue his or her main interests as early as possible? JC: Yes. When I teach a workshop I can understand why people have trouble coming up with an idea or self-assignment, and often the people who have the hardest time are those who don’t know what interests them. It’s often that lack of self-knowledge that inhibits their knowledge of the world. GS: Are you speaking from personal experience? JC: Yes, I fl oundered around for a long time. I’d say, “Is this what I really want to do? Maybe I should do fashion and commercial work?” But when I think about it, the journalistic side of things always interested me. Per- haps it’s because I came into photography from the writer’s side. I was always interested in the truth of things rather than the fantasy. But if I had gone to art school it might have been the fantasy that would have taken over. GS: Are there any recurring themes in your photographs? JC: It usually comes back to relationships between the sexes. How men see themselves, how women see themselves, and their abso- lutely hopeless attempts at trying to understand each other. This is something I fi nd again and again. It doesn’t matter what the culture is, it’s a primal sort of thing. I hadn’t realized it until I went through my work and picked out my favorite pictures. It’s a theme I want to continue to pursue. Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 GS: How emotionally connected are you to your work? JC: It’s interesting. Many times I fi nd myself laughing out loud when I am photographing. More recently, I’ve shot through tears—I mean literally. I found that some of the things I’ve been shooting at the Vietnam Veterans Memorial moved me so much, in a way that really surprised me. But I think that’s grand. By far the most successful pictures are the ones that have the most connection between photographer and photograph. There is that immediate connection. That’s what we really want—I think that’s what we are looking for. 54 Jodi Cobb
GS: What are the responsibilities and obligations of a photojournalist to herself, the people she photographs, and the viewers? JC: I feel strongly about that. A photojournalist has a defi nite respon- sibility to the people being photographed and to those who will be looking at the photographs. I want to be believed. I want my photographs to be believed as what really happened. It’s a moment in time. I know photographers who work in other ways, and I have no problem with that, that is, with art photographers, com- mercial photographers, and fashion photographers—but I don’t like it when distinctions get blurred. I don’t want to be conned, essentially. I don’t want somebody passing off something as a true event only to fi nd out later that it was staged or set up. I know we all have to set up photographs, but I always try very hard to make it look like it is set-up. There is a parallel in writing. I love fi ction—I just want to know when a writer is doing fi ction and when he or she is doing reportage. Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 6 VAN DEREN COKE
Photographer’s Forum , May 1992
In 1938, at the age of 17, Van Deren Coke (1921–2004), a native of Lexington, Kentucky, was bitten by the photo bug while attending boarding school in Virginia. That same year he joined a local camera club, where Benjamin Hart, a retired chem- ist, showed the group a collection of original black and white prints by Edward Weston. His infatuation with photography quickly became an obsession that led him to California to seek out Weston, and through Weston, Ansel Adams. From that time on, Coke’s commitment to photography became a journey that led him into teaching, writing, curating, and becoming involved with creating his own body of work. He can be seen as part of the “Post-Stieglitz/Strand” generation, and he became a leading torchbearer heralding photography as art. From 1978 to 1987, Coke was the director of the department of photography at the Museum of Modern Art in San Francisco. He served as associate director and director of the International Museum of Photography at George Eastman House for three years, was a visiting professor and guest lecturer at prestigious universities and institutions around the world, including the University of London’s St. Martin’s School of Art, the University of California, Berkeley, and the University of Califor- nia, at Davis. But it was his 17-year affi liation with the University of New Mexico Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 (UNM) that established him as a champion of the arts. He went to UNM to be the director of the Art Museum and to teach the his- tory of modern art and photography. He soon became head of the art department. Coke’s relationship with the University continued througout his life. In his terms, he was a “staunch friend” of that institution. He was instrumental in setting up the specialized art history and photography programs offered there, which are regarded as among the fi nest in the fi eld. At the time of this interview, he had been teaching as a distinguished visiting professor at Arizona State University. In the preceding year Coke had three major shows of his own work; curated a number of shows, including “21 Photographers from New Mexico,” at Visions 56 Van Deren Coke
Gallery in San Francisco; and had been writing quite a bit, and not only about photography. At the time Coke lived in Santa Fe with his wife Joan, who shared his passion for photography. Joan, an art historian specializing in the history of photography, also taught at the Art Institute in San Francisco. She curated a large photography exhibition—entitled “Earthscape”—in Osaka, Japan for Expo 90. She also worked as director of research on a 12-volume set of books on the history of photography published by the large Japanese publishing house, Shueisha. The project was done in conjunction with Dai Nippon, a highly prestigious printing house in Tokyo. This series was published worldwide—in the United States it is called A Gallery of World Photography . I met Van at his home in Santa Fe, where he openly talked about his active life and career in photography.
GRACE SCHAUB: You’ve been actively exhibiting your own photography in recent years. For starters, let’s talk about your work. VAN DEREN COKE: After many years working in black and white, I now have a real affi nity for a simple formula: Kodachrome 64 shot 1/2 to 1 stop under, printed on Cibachrome. I use Cibachrome because it heightens the contrast, which gives me the deep shadows I want in color prints. When shooting, I expose for the highlights and let the shadows go black. Ansel Adams taught me if you didn’t have details in the shad- ows you weren’t a very good photographer. Well, I gave that up a long time ago because my whole idea is based upon a trans- formation of what is in front of me. GS: Would you talk a little about your position as director of the department of photography at MoMA in San Francisco? VDC: In the museum world I’ve found it’s much better to take a nar- row focus rather than a broad one, given three factors: number one is acquisition money; number two is sheer space in compe- tition with other curators in the institution; and number three is publication money. When I arrived at the museum we had a very uneven Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 19th and 20th century collection. After a while, we sold some of the older material and bought badly needed 20th century work. In the Bay Area there is a lot of 19th century work. Stan- ford University had an outstanding collection, and the libraries at Berkeley had a lot of material, so this seemed like a rea- sonable thing to do. When my successor, Sondra Phillips, got there she didn’t feel that way, and said, “Van has given away the store.” I think she was put out because there wasn’t a bigger 19th century collection, but it was a very deliberate act to focus resources. Henry Hopkins, the museum’s director, and I decided Van Deren Coke 57
that this is a Museum of Modern Art, and that 20th century work was going to be the thrust of the collection and the muse- um’s program. We were able to build an incredible collection within about 10 years. Our collection ranks as one that rivals the collections in the Museum of Modern Art and the Metro- politan Museum of Art in New York in many aspects of modern photography. GS: What were the circumstances that led to your appointment there? VDC: I had been in and out of San Francisco all my life. My father was from the Bay Area. At various times over the years I was an informal consultant at the museum. When Hopkins was thinking of expanding the photography program, and the cura- tor, John Humphrey, was retiring, he asked me who I thought would be good for the position. I had been with the University of New Mexico 17 years and thought I might take it on myself, which I did. GS: When was that? VDC: I retired from UNM in 1978 and stayed with the museum for nine years. GS: Were the two experiences very different? VDC: In many museums there is a “ghetto” mentality, where the bright young curators don’t want anyone infringing on their territories. It can be a problem in some of the bigger museums. My experience at the Modern in San Francisco was that it was different than most museums. GS: How so? VDC: There are always going to be certain people who have the get-up-and-go, and I felt I should give them all the support I could. I felt their energy and input could make a difference in the fi eld, and it didn’t make any difference to me from what direction the energy came. I wasn’t competing. I discovered a long time ago that part of my obligation as a department head is to bring in other people and help them along. I saw this as part Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 of my role as an administrator. GS: When did your interest in photography begin? VDC: I started very early in photography. I always felt very comfort- able with it. The boarding school I attended had a good photo lab, and when my mother and father traveled to Europe in 1937, they asked me what I wanted them to bring back—I told them I wanted a Rolleifl ex. Of course I had no idea what I was get- ting myself into with the complexities of that camera. So, at 17, I had a Rolleifl ex, and a good lab to work in. But there were very few photography books in the school’s 58 Van Deren Coke
library. What they did have was a good collection of art books, and I was drawn to the work of Monet, Manet, Gauguin, and Cezanne. I felt comfortable with their work. GS: What followed? VDC: I joined a camera club in Lexington. It was a rather sophis- ticated group of people from the University of Kentucky, including doctors and lawyers who were a lot older than I was. Through the camera club I had a wonderful opportunity to learn photographic chemistry and optics from a retired chem- ist by the name of Ben Hart. He was an amateur photographer who brought his technical knowledge of chemistry and optics to the use of the camera. When Hart came to the camera he realized there was a need for technical training. He set up small classes, and taught us how to control various printing papers and how to use different developers. He also felt it was important for us to see quality work, and would go to a cabinet and take out original prints by Edward Weston, set them on a railing, and tell us, “This is what we aspire to.” I was very impressed. I learned Weston was living in California. My father was a Californian. He was originally from the Bay Area, but I was born and raised in Kentucky. I had an aunt living in Piedmont, California, and it didn’t take long before I put two and two together and got four! I told my parents I’d go out and see my aunt for the summer—I knew they wouldn’t let me go other- wise. I got a little red car, drove out, and said, “Hello Auntie,” got back in my car and drove to Carmel to see Edward Weston. GS: How did Weston greet you? VDC: He was a very generous man. In those days there weren’t too many people knocking on his door. If he was interested in this kid from Kentucky, it was because I was interested in everything he said and followed him around while he photographed on Point Lobos. Weston had just moved into his new house on Wildcat Hill, next to Point Lobos, and I just hung out for about a month taking pictures and talking to Edward. Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 GS: How did he feel about taking on a student? VDC: He wasn’t very enthusiastic about a formal arrangement and said, “Go up to San Francisco, and I’ll call Ansel Adams and tell him you’re coming.” GS: Is that what you did? VDC: Yes. Ansel was just coming into his own. He had had a show at Stieglitz’s American Place Gallery in New York, and that was sort of the fi rst recognition for him in the eastern part of the country. GS: Was Ansel Adams teaching classes then? Van Deren Coke 59
VDC: No, in those days you just did whatever he wanted you to do around the darkroom, and picked things up by osmosis. GS: What an experience for a kid interested in photography! VDC: Ansel and his friends were interested in art and making art. That’s what I was interested in also. That’s why I was so glad to meet Weston. He never talked anything but the spirit of the object, or how you responded to the subject. He didn’t say much about his pictures. He’d look at them with you but make no comments. Later, if you asked him about a specifi c thing, he would answer. He answered me very freely because there wasn’t anyone else around. GS: Has he been a great infl uence in your life? VDC: Yes. It was also through Weston that I became interested in col- lecting Mexican art. My parents had traveled to Mexico in the 1930s, and we had Mexican objects in this house I lived in, so I was attuned to Mexico. But when I saw Weston’s collection it instilled in me an interest in the culture. GS: What were you photographing at the time? VDC: Details from nature, trees—not landscapes, though. When I went back to boarding school that fall I did pictures of objects such as chairs. I felt I was never very successful at doing landscapes because I felt there was never enough I could control. I guess later that became my very conscious aim: to exercise control. GS: It seems like your technical training and your interest in art came at about the same time. VDC: Yes, through Ben Hart at the camera club in Lexington, Ken- tucky, and then through Edward Weston and Ansel Adams in California. GS: You had some very infl uential teachers early on. VDC: Ansel kept saying, “You’ve got to go out to New York now and meet Stieglitz, and you’ve got to meet Strand, and you’ve got to meet Scheeler”—and I did. By 1944, I met all these people, and didn’t have any idea who they were other than I was told to meet them and look at their work. And so I was sort of inducted Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 into a fraternity right away, without any ceremony. GS: That was a lot to come to grips with when you begin at 17. VDC: And coming from a small city in the South, that was quite a dose. GS: What did you do after boarding school? VDC: I enrolled in the University of Kentucky in Lexington. I wanted to major in art, but my father wouldn’t approve of that course of study for his only son. He wasn’t going to have an artist in the family. GS: Did he approve of photography? 60 Van Deren Coke
VDC: Photography was all right because my father was trained as a chemist, so he respected that part of it. But he didn’t have an aesthetic bone in his body. My mother was very artistic. She was at Wellesley, and had taken art classes, and was a designer of gardens. She also was a folk artist. GS: What course of study did you pursue? VDC: In 1939, no universities had creative photography courses. My compromise was a major in history, and I bootlegged in, as my minor, the history of art. My parents never asked me what I was doing as long as I was doing all right in history, for my aim was law school. The University had a very fi ne history department. GS: Your studies in history served you well. VDC: History shaped my whole approach to teaching art history, and my choice of subject matter to some extent. The years 1940 to 1944 were quite a critical time in history. We had a few Jewish professors who had come from Germany, and when they talked about history, it was of the moment—not ancient history or medieval history. They were talking about what they knew fi rst- hand. That was very impressive to me. History has always been the core of whatever I’ve done since then—outside of being an artist. GS: Did you go to war? VDC: Yes, like my entire generation I went off to war. I was a naval offi cer for four years, and that sort of put me in limbo as far as my development as an artist. I came out with the feeling I never wanted to be in any war, ever again. We went in to fi ght a war—that’s all. The military is a very narrow organization—very, very conservative. At that time, the only degree Annapolis gave was in engineering. In my opinion, engineers and those inclined toward engineering are certainly not people I’m inter- ested in associating with. I was more interested in poetry and philosophy—I liked to explore intellectual concepts. The one thing I had going for me was I was an avid reader, and there was some time to read while out at sea. GS: Did you get right back to photography after the war? Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 VDC: When I got back to Lexington, in late 1945, I went back to my photography almost immediately. By this time I was mar- ried with a son, and I needed to support my family. I went into the family’s wholesale hardware business. My great grandfather started this business, and since I was the only son I was expected to run it. I didn’t have anything else in mind at the time, having given up the idea of studying law. GS: But you continued to study photography? VDC: I went back to the camera club, and saw what was needed was a base in art history and philosophy, so I began teaching a select group of interested students. Van Deren Coke 61
GS: Obviously, you liked teaching. VDC: I realized that’s what I should be doing. A man by the name of Clinton Adams had been appointed to head the art department in 1954, at the University of Kentucky. He was from UCLA, a brilliant man and a great administrator—which is very rare in art departments. He was also a very perceptive artist. He was one of the few artists in this country who was also a lithogra- pher. Adams was from Glendale, California, which meant a lot to me because that is where Edward Weston lived for many years, and where he had his fi rst studio. Clinton’s mother was one of the pioneer technicians in Technicolor when Techni- color was the only color process. So Clinton Adams was very sympathetic to photography, and we always had a lot to talk about, since my father was a Californian and I had been there and met Weston, and he knew of Weston. In the early 1950s I decided to take a graduate degree in art history, and went to Indiana University where there was a very good program in this fi eld. GS: So you left the family business and went back to school. VDC: Finally, I was able to extricate myself from the wholesale hard- ware business without a great deal of dissatisfaction from my father. I enrolled at Indiana University for a graduate degree in art history where there were some excellent teachers. I took a whole range of art history courses, but I was mainly interested in the art of the 19th and 20th centuries. GS: And this is where you prepared for a career in university teach- ing and museum work. VDC: I think the faculty pushed me as much as I could stand, because I was so committed to my studies. Of course, I was a lot older than most of the other graduate students, but it worked out well for I was a very serious student. My great problem was when I completed all my course work and went before the graduate committee to talk about the topic for my thesis. I ran into opposition. There were three very impressive art histori- Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 ans on the committee. I looked them all straight in the eye and said, “I want to do a study of the infl uence of photography on painting in the 19th century.” By that time I had seen enough evidence to indicate many artists were infl uenced by photog- raphy. GS: And the committee’s response? VDC: They asked me to leave the room for they wanted to discuss this matter among themselves. After a while, my advisor professor Henry Hope came out and said, “Van, we gave consideration to what you said, and we think it’s an inappropriate subject for an art historian, and in fact, we don’t think it exists.” 62 Van Deren Coke
GS: You must have been very upset. VDC: I was so upset psychologically, philosophically, and personally. I felt these brilliant art historians were blinded by their traditions. Since then, I have found most art historians are very narrow. They couldn’t conceive that they had graduate students with some insights that none of them had, so they would not let me run with this idea. Ever since then, when I get a student who has something I don’t know anything about who I can believe in, I say, all right, let’s go with it. I want to see where they’re going to take an idea. GS: That’s a spark in students that should be rewarding for a teacher. VDC: I give them all the support they need for a start. GS: What did you eventually do for your graduate thesis? VDC: Well, that night I was so devastated I went to see one of the sen- ior professors, Robert Laurent, who was one of the fi rst abstract sculptors in America. He came from France, and had been very infl uential in New York in the teens. Laurent was someone I had known and talked with many times because of my interest in the origins of abstract imagery in America, of which his work was a part. After listening to all my woes, he said, “Didn’t you tell me you had gone down to Mexico one summer to the Institute of Allende in San Miguel de Allende?” This was true. I had been down there in 1948 and studied with a Mexican sculptor who was a master wood-carver. Laurent said, “You have learned some techniques of sculpture, and I’m sure you have other ideas you’ve learned in art history. Just go along and don’t tell the committee anything, and this summer we’ll go to Ogunquit, Maine, where I teach sculpture, and study with me.” I did this and received credit for the classes I took in Maine because the school was affi liated with Indiana University. GS: So you switched your major? VDC: I gave up art history as a major because I was so disillusioned with those art historians. My graduate degree is an MFA in Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 sculpture. Laurent and I got along very well, and I went with him to Rome, where he was the senior artist in residence at the American Academy, and worked there as his assistant. While I was at the American Academy I got a cable from Clinton Adams, who had just been made head of the art depart- ment at the University of Florida in Gainesville. He said when you fi nish up there, come to Florida, and you can teach photog- raphy and the history of modern art. When I got to Florida one of the fi rst things he asked me was “Would you also be assistant chairman?” Van Deren Coke 63
GS: How long were you at the University of Florida? VDC: I spent three years there. The last year Adams took leave from the university and went out to Los Angeles to become administrative director of the Tamarind Workshop, which was a Ford Foundation funded workshop set up to re-explore lithography as an art medium. In 1959, after he got it all set up, Adams was made dean of the College of Fine Arts at the University of New Mexico, which included heading their new art museum. Getting back to Florida, the fi rst thing I did at the Univer- sity of Florida was develop a graduate-level photography pro- gram. It grew rapidly, and there was a need for another teacher. I went up to Indiana University and asked Jerry Uelsmann, who had just fi nished his graduate degree, to come down and teach photography. He agreed to do so, and has been there ever since. Then I went west to Phoenix to teach at Arizona State University. GS: The Southwest had attracted photographers before by its sheer beauty, but you were a pioneer in developing photography as a course of art study in this region. How did this come about? VDC: Initially I went to Arizona State because they offered me a very good appointment. I taught photography and the history of modern art for one year. But at that time there was no com- mitment there to photography—they just needed two things which I taught, so I fi t in very neatly. In the meanwhile, Clinton Adams had made a survey of what was going to happen at the University of New Mexico in Albuquerque. After he was made dean, one of the fi rst things he insisted on was that there would be a new art museum for stu- dents and faculty to use as a lab. Adams appointed me director of the Art Museum, which was housed on campus. GS: And this began your relationship with the University of New Mexico. VDC: I came to the University of New Mexico as the fi rst director Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 of the new Art Museum and to teach the history of modern art. I had only been here a short time when the head of the art department and Clinton Adams had a philosophical falling out. The department head left UNM for the University of Arizona, and the fi rst thing I knew I was running both the art depart- ment and the Art Museum. It was a rather crazy time, but to get anything done you had to do those things. I had complete support from Adams, who was running fi ve departments and a big college. GS: How did you go about developing your graduate program? 64 Van Deren Coke
VDC: We made an assessment of what was special about the South- west. The areas of concentration were: pre-Columbian art, Spanish colonial art, the art of the American Indian, and 19th century American art, and in addition the history of photogra- phy and the history of printmaking, including lithography and etching. GS: How did you set it up? VDC: We decided to establish a very special creative photography pro- gram that would include the history of photography as an art. There was no PhD in art history at that time anywhere in either the Rocky Mountain area or in the Southwest. Adams and I developed a specialized art history program, rather than take the broad classical approach that was taught up and down the east coast. But our undergraduate program offered a broad range of courses including ancient, medieval, Renaissance, and Baroque art. We immediately began to get very good students because no other university was doing this type of thing. GS: You saw the need or projected the need? VDC: I projected this idea and Adams concurred. We knew there was a growing interest in all these fi elds, and most art historians had their heads in the sand. Adams was a great administrator. He was able to get the support and the funding to carry it out. He also brought the Tamarind Workshop from Los Angeles to UNM. It’s known worldwide as one of the best places for learning lithographic printing and attracted to the press major artists, many of whom had not previously made lithographs. We wanted to turn out educated artists at UNM, and hoped some of these artists would be role models. I had said so many times, I didn’t know how to train an artist. An artist sort of happens in a proper environment. But when an artist wants to become a teacher, he or she has to stand scrutiny alongside a history professor, a physics professor, or any other professor who is educated and can read, write, and reason. Otherwise, Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 we are always going to be “ghettoized” on the campus. What I wanted to do was to train people in photography who would be thoroughly acquainted with modern art, thoroughly acquainted with the history of prints, thoroughly trained in the history of photography, and could handle black and white, color, and mixed media. We created an MFA which is equivalent to a PhD com- bining studio and art history. It takes four years whereas most photography MFAs take two years to complete. Many people felt students were not going to stay around for four years. But Van Deren Coke 65
I felt the serious ones would, and they do! Many outstanding teacher/artists have come out of this program at UNM, such as Joel-Peter Witkin, Nick Nixon, Meridel Rubenstein, and Joe Deal. GS: How much infl uence does the University’s photography pro- gram have on photography in New Mexico? VDC: The University department is the soul of photography out here. Here they deal with visual philosophy; the people at UNM get students on a path that’s their own. GS: Is there a lot of diversity and individuality in the work? VDC: There’s no School of Albuquerque; there’s no School of UNM; there’s no school of New Mexico. Each individual works out where he or she is going. After all, Joel Peter Witkin came out of UNM at about the same time as Nick Nixon. You’ve got people who are doing things totally different from one another who are coming out of the same school! And it’s because they have a very intellectual faculty. People are well read, they understand theory, and the history of the medium. I’m talking about studio people—and they in turn mix with the art historians in pho- tography. GS: What are some of the projects you are working on now? VDC: I’ve had three one-man shows of my color prints this past year. I’m presently writing a history of the art colonies in Santa Fe and Taos, and I have a new book coming out at the end of the year which is being published by the University of New Mexico Press. The book is about my photographs of Mexico, where I’ve been traveling to and photographing since 1948. Both current events and history are refl ected in these pictures. Through them we see a widened perspective about how the amalgam of cultures—some with shadowy corners, some rich, some harsh—have produced the stirring culture one fi nds in Mexico today. Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 This page intentionally left blank Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 7 PATRICK DEMARCHELIER
Camera Arts, February 2000
Patrick Demarchelier (b. 1943) is a youthful fi ftyish, tall and slender with a shock of black hair. As he walks out of the elevator and into the studio he has a gra- cious smile and a kind word for his assistants, who approach him one by one with an urgent phone call he has to make or take, a decision or an opinion they need immediately. He is friendly and has a relaxed way about him that puts people at ease. Demarchelier was born near Paris in 1943 and grew up in Le Havre, which is located on the northern coast of France. He received his fi rst camera when he was 17. His fi rst job related to photography was retouching passport photographs in a small lab. He moved to Paris and worked in a lab printing news photographs, and later moved on to work as an assistant to a photographer specializing in cover shots for movie magazines. He then went on to become house photographer for a modeling agency, and by the age of 20 he was assisting Hans Feuer, a well-known fashion photographer who worked with British Vogue . Demarchelier learned all he could and in 1968 began photographing independently, shooting his fi rst pictures for Marie Claire and Elle magazines. Demarchelier, in his early twenties at that time, belonged to a young, spontane- Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 ous generation, and his photographs refl ected this. His work was like a breath of fresh air in the fashion industry. His style conveyed an openness and clarity of light that was appealing to many art directors and fashion editors. Alexander Liberman, creative director for Vogue at the time, felt Demarche- lier’s shooting style targeted his magazine’s audience, making the models’ looks, style, clothes, and accessories more accessible to them. In 1974 Demarchelier began working for American Vogue , and the following year emigrated from Paris to Man- hattan to continue his career. He became a regular contributor to Vogue in 1979. Demarchelier’s career continued to grow through his creative collaboration with the fashion editor Grace Coddington, of British Vogue , in 1981. 68 Patrick Demarchelier
In the intervening years, Demarchelier has established himself as a renowned photographer specializing in fashion and celebrity portraiture. He photographs the most beautiful and famous people in the world, including supermodels, people in the arts, theater, and fi lm. His exquisite fashion editorial spreads have been constants in the pages of Harper ’ s Bazaar since 1991, and over the years his work has been featured in Vogue, Marie Claire, Glamour, Mademoiselle, GQ, Rolling Stone , and more recently in Talk magazine. His editorial achievements led to advertising campaigns for the top names in fashion and glamour, including Revlon, Chanel, Calvin Klein, Dior, The Gap, Gianni Versace, Georgio Armani, Elizabeth Arden, and Ellen Tracy. There is something illuminating about a Demarchelier portrait. It refl ects an intimate moment in the life of the person portrayed. The expression he records in an instant on fi lm may be rooted in play, curiosity, tenderness, or eccentricity, but rarely shows boredom or negativity. His portraiture is honest without being brutal, tender without being deferential, and revealing without being scandalous. The images communicate a sense of ease about the photographer and his subjects. Indeed, his portraits of Princess Diana are some of the most honest and endearing studies done by any photographer. Demarchelier has been described as an intuitive talent who knows how to bring out something special in his subjects. That intuition is served by an instinctive cre- ative process. It involves a true interaction with the person he is photographing—a give-and-take, on-the-spot, spontaneous situation that speaks to the moment when photographer and subject meet. Demarchelier says, “Sometimes we have a plan and sometimes it’s chance. I come on the set and decide at the last minute to work on instinct. It all depends on the situation. You look in the camera and you see what you like. It’s elu- sive. It can be a feeling, the emotion of the moment, an expression, something magical that you can’t always explain. Sometimes it can happen right away, and sometimes it takes time. But I generally know what I want and know what I am looking for.” Whether he is photographing a model for an elegant Harper ’ s Bazaar editorial or a celebrity portrait of a leading recording artist, he waits for that one moment. The photograph can be done in fi ve minutes or it can take three hours. He says, “I want to bring out something I like in a person, something special about them. My pictures bring out a feeling from inside.” Demarchelier’s portraits are expressive, Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 perhaps due to his attitude toward his subjects and his innate appreciation of the revelation a portrait can bring. “A portrait is an instant and a signal,” he says. “If all goes well you steal someone or something in an instant, like the spirit. It is one moment of the person. You talk to them, you play, you see one moment of that person that you really like, and you take a photograph. Then you continue until you see something else—another very special moment. What you see, you photograph. And then it goes away.” Demarchelier’s manner helps put his subjects at ease. He wants the person he is photographing to forget the camera. He talks to them to help them forget the cam- era and also to relieve tension. He feels that even with models and actors—people Patrick Demarchelier 69
used to a camera—a portrait is more interesting if their minds are not on the camera. Perhaps Demarchelier’s approach when photographing fashion models has helped them to become recognizable as individual personalities and to achieve the status of supermodels. How does the balance of business and art play out in Demarchelier’s commercial studio? Business and art is a blend, he says. Some days it’s art, and some days it’s not art. “Each day can be very different. Sometimes it is very free and we can do what we want. Other times a client may have a concept and we have meetings before- hand and talk about what is possible and what is not. Some clients want to know your feelings about what you want to do and others don’t care—they just want you to create something special for them.” He works every day at his craft, often doing two major shoots a day in his studio—located in Manhattan’s photo district—or photographing on location in another part of the world. On our visit the studio was a beehive of activity and creative energy. Studio manager Wendell Maruyama, several assistants, and other creatives—including set designers, make-up artists, stylists, and models—were preparing for the upcom- ing shoot. That afternoon it was for fashion designer Ellen Tracy’s Fashion 2000 Campaign. Demarchelier puts together a very talented creative team. Being at the top of his profession, he understandably has people banging on his door to work with him. He chooses the best and the brightest. And, team in place, he trusts they will all work up to his standards. There are meetings to discuss incoming assignments and campaigns and what the clients may want. Organizational activities are many—building sets, gathering props, testing lights and fi lm, and doing all those things required in a busy studio. His fi nely honed team knows what Demarchelier wants and what they have to do to get it done. Demarchelier doesn’t second-guess them—he doesn’t have the time to second-guess them. After all the preparation, set designer Bradley Garlock says, “Patrick comes on the set with his camera and shoots. You can tell by his intensity that he knows just what he is looking for and knows what he wants to bring out in his subject. He is more intuitive in his approach than intellectual and has an acute instinct for bring- Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 ing out the best in those he photographs. He doesn’t spend a lot of time talking about what he does. He gets what he is after. He just feels it and does it. He is very spontaneous and works fast.” While Demarchelier doesn’t talk much about his approach to his subjects or how he comes about his ideas, they are preconceived. He knows what he wants, and he knows what he wants in the moment. Rosie Keyser, one of Demarchelier’s assistants, says, “Patrick brings out the best in the models, and he makes them feel very comfortable. He talks with them a lot. Patrick is a very real person who adores his family—his wife Mia and their three sons—and he treats everyone at the studio very well.” There seems to be a genuine 70 Patrick Demarchelier
mutual admiration society at work in this studio, where everyone expresses respect for one another. The studio is on the top fl oor of a three-fl oor operation. It is an enormous space divided into several work and shooting areas. Another fl oor houses two in-house fi lm processing labs and technicians—one specializing in color and the other in black and white. Demarchelier’s color photographs are mainly shot on negative fi lm, then processed in his color lab where small prints are made as proofs for him to review and edit. Eventually the color fi lm will be given to the client to scan for publication. Demarchelier’s black and white photographs are contacted on Ilford’s Multi- grade paper and printed on 11 x 14 Forte fi ber-based paper for all his clients, as well as for his exhibitions. Demarchelier uses a variety of cameras and formats for his work, including a Linhof 4 x 5 View Camera, a Hasselblad, a Mamiya, a Pentax for medium for- mat, and, for 35mm, a Nikon. His format choice depends on what he is photo- graphing that day and often depends on his own mood in the morning. One day he will choose one camera and format and the next another. For him, equip- ment is never as important as his photographic vision and what he feels he needs to create. Most images created by fashion photographers are made to be seen on the printed page of a magazine, not printed on a high-quality, fi ber-based photographic paper toned for permanence. Rarely do fashion pictures make it to a gallery or museum wall. However, Demarchelier is among those on the infl uential list of talented fashion photographers who have exhibited their advertising photographs in galleries and museums, and who have exhibition catalogs and monographs published of their commercial work. Before him came Irving Penn, Richard Avedon, and William Klein—all of whom revolutionized the art of fashion photography, and all of whom Demarche- lier mentions as inspirational to him when he was a young photographer. At the time of this interview there had been four very impressive books pub- lished of Demarchelier’s work: Fashion Photography: Patrick Demarchelier, American Photographer Master Series published by Little Brown in 1989; Patrick Demarchelier: Photographs , published by Bullfi nch in 1998; Patrick Demarchelier: Exposing Elegance, a Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 catalog of selected photographs from an exhibition of nearly 400 images presented at the Museum of Contemporary Art in Monterrey, Mexico, December 1997 through March 1998. This catalog was made available through the Tony Shafrazi Gallery in New York City, where a selection of images were exhibited in February 1999. Demarchelier’s book Forms was published by Rizzoli International in 1998 and is composed of a selection of his most recent photographs from several genres including “faces, fashions, fauna, folk, and forms.” An exhibition entitled Forms , which will include images from the book as well as Demarchelier’s most recent images, is scheduled to open at PAC, the Contemporary Museum of Art in Milan, Italy, in February of 2000. Patrick Demarchelier 71
He says, “To do a book is very interesting because it gives me the opportunity to mix pictures from all the genres of photography I am involved in. Aside from fash- ion and portraiture, I enjoy photographing nudes, landscapes, ethnological studies of people from around the world, and wild animal photography.” He says his books are excellent promotional pieces that he can give to art directors, clients, friends, and family. He sees a book as a good calling card—a good vehicle for the work that at the same time brings a certain amount of prestige. Demarchelier feels that a book is all about the past and his past work. “I don’t like to look back to the past so much,” he says. “Photography is not so much about the past for me, it is more about today and tomorrow. When we do a book we col- lect images from the past, but here in the studio, we create new, fresh images every day. I don’t rely on successes of the past so much. Photography, for me, is always today and tomorrow, not yesterday. You can take your best picture yesterday, but today you want to make one that is better. Yesterday is gone. I always want to do better the next day.” And what gives Demarchelier the most satisfaction in photography? “I love the work. And I love when I please my client and surprise people—in a positive, not negative way, of course. I like to give them more than they expected.” Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 This page intentionally left blank Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 8 JODY DOLE
Photographer’s Forum , September 1994
Jody Dole (b. 1955) began his commercial career in 1989 with a worldwide adver- tising campaign for Smirnoff Vodka. Utilizing a unique fi lm that offered high ISO speeds that also had grain and what would be called “artifacts” today, he actually shot the images on the family kitchen table. As a testament to his drive and cre- ative eye, fi ve years later he has become one of the design world’s rising new stars, earning international recognition for his still life photography, including awards from Communication Arts , APA (Advertising Photographers of America), Art Direc- tion , Photo Design, the Art Directors Club of New York, the Blackbook Awards, American Photography , and the Graphis Photo, Design, and Poster annuals. His clients include Tiffany & Co., American Express, L’Oréal, and Nikon. Part of that success has to do with his early adoption of and exploration in digi- tal imaging. At the time of this interview Dole had recently formed Mesa Digital Communications, a high-end creative digital imaging facility. Along with image manipulation and enhancement, the unique fi rm offered printing that utilized high-resolution prepress digital technology to produce IRIS prints on watercolor papers and other surfaces. Mesa also offered numerous services for prepress and advertising clients. The studio was equipped with the then-latest AT&T Picasso sys- Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 tem, used to send electronic images over traditional phone lines directly to clients anywhere in the world. Perhaps the most fascinating aspect of this interview is its snapshot of the state of the art in digital imaging in 1994, when the commercial and especially the prepress world was just awakening to the possibilities of the medium. It also gives an insight into how quickly things changed and how what was once awesome became almost quaint in retrospect. But it also gives a good look at Dole, who was quick to rec- ognize the potential and who, through his pioneering work and experimentation, served as part of the vanguard of the amazing shift that was to rock all aspects of photography in the years ahead. 74 Jody Dole
GRACE SCHAUB: How did you get your start in professional photography? JODY DOLE: I started my career as a photographer in a kind of ass-backwards way. I had a couple of pictures that were interesting, a client who was “gung-ho,” and no studio. My fi rst major success was a cam- paign for Smirnoff Vodka. Actually, I shot the whole campaign on my wife’s kitchen table. When my client wanted to come to my studio and see the shoot, I felt it was time to set up a studio. After stalling them for four months, my wife and I fi nally found out this place was available. We rented it, took a few days to clean it up, and within a week my client came to the shoot. Before we knew it, it was business as usual. The point is, I had the business before I rented the studio, but I knew it was the right thing to do because I already had the clients. GS: What was it that got you started in electronic imaging? JD: I wanted the ability to have the immediate control. And when somebody showed me what could be done with Adobe Photo- shop and some other interactive software, it took me less than fi ve seconds to see its potential. Nothing was going to get in my way, except the price. That did get in my way, but we are working that out. GS: How long did it take you to learn electronic imaging? And after that, when did it become commercially viable for you? JD: I would say about a year to learn it, another year to perfect what I was doing, and another year to move it. The learning curve was steep, but the results were good, and now we get consistently good results all the time. There aren’t 25 people in the country who are doing what I’m doing right now with computers and electronic imaging. GS: Do you have many clients who utilize your electronic imaging capabilities? JD: I think many clients are a little afraid of the technology simply because until recently retouching services on a computer was a big deal and very expensive. It was only 5 years ago that in order to get the best retouching work you would go to a place that had Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 a Quantel PaintBox, a machine that cost about three-quarters of a million dollars, and where clients sat in a fancy room that looked like something out of Star Wars and paid $500 an hour to have somebody do their retouching, and they were really impressed. You’ll be surprised to hear that Quantel ceased its production of that equipment this year, because now, for $40,000, you can do the same, and more, on a high-end Mac. GS: How do you get clients for this work? JD: We are inventing clients. GS: What do you mean by that? Jody Dole 75
JD: Well, when we started out there were no clients for this. We are inventing a lot of what we are doing as we go along. What kept me going over the past few years while I was learning, and what was going through my mind—losing all this time—is the simple fact that when I started out in traditional photography I had busi- ness before I had any overhead—and then I went out and bought some Hasselblad cameras, a couple of strobes, some tungsten lights, and some other equipment along the way. Maybe I spent between $25,000 and $35,000 for all my equipment, and I was in business. GS: And the cost of setting up an electronic imaging workstation? JD: With electronic imaging $25,000 won’t even buy a high-end Mac workstation, much less a scanner, a printer, or the storage device. It’s much more like $125,000, even more. GS: I hope you are getting a fair return on your initial investment. JD: Clients are now beginning to take advantage of my capabilities—not so much as a service bureau, which I am not, but as someone who has demonstrated abilities to be visual and who is now demon- strating the ability to take that design sensibility and track record in one fi eld and cross-pollinate it into another. It’s been a rocky, stormy road for a while, but now the clients are coming, and they are very impressed with what we are doing here. They know I’m technically aware and have the facilities to deliver the goods. GS: I am very impressed with the quality of the Iris prints. JD: The Iris prints have no perceptible dots. It’s a continuous tone to the human eye. Only if you put a magnifying glass up to an Iris print will you see the dots, and most people don’t go to museums or look at print portfolios with a 20-power loupe. The best repro- duction I’ve gotten from a photographic image in a magazine has been from an Iris print made from that photograph. I am not suggesting all my clients use Iris prints to reproduce their images, but for editorial purposes it’s a remarkable tool. We deliver some great results. GS: Many photographers are hesitant to buy into the new technologies Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 because they become outdated so fast. What would you advise? JD: People always ask, “Should I wait to buy the equipment because it goes out of date as fast as you can buy it?” But if you bought a Hasselblad 500 C and 4 lenses 10 years ago, you can still work with it today. It’s not necessary to replace that equipment with the newest model. Of course, computer technology is going to change as fast as you buy the equipment and get it hooked up. But what a Mac Quadra 950 will do right now, in relation to where photographers were, and have been coming from, is revolutionary. Sure, there will 76 Jody Dole
be easier, less expensive Power PCs that will run a zillion times faster, etc. But right now you start with an inexpensive Nikon scanner or a Leaf scanner, or whatever “inexpensive” under- $20,000 scanner you pick, and an “inexpensive” Mac Quadra system with a monitor and storage device for another $20,000, and you go from there. Inexpensive!? These costs will put any photographer into orbit, assuming they have something to work with visually. Yes, these machines are going to be faster and less expensive next year, but I can work with my system right now and probably for at least the next fi ve years. GS: What would you advise a photographer and emerging pro who wants to work in digital imaging, and perhaps set up a computer workstation? JD: First of all, I would advise them to have some really interesting images to begin with, because nothing can save a poor quality visual. Assuming the talent exists—and that’s just a harsh real- ity of life—I wouldn’t suggest going out and getting a digital camera and all the equipment right away. I would suggest mak- ing your pictures as great as you can, and buying a Power PC Mac, which is going to take everybody into the 21st century, for sure. GS: And continue shooting with traditional fi lm and camera? JD: Absolutely, and buy the fastest Macintosh computer you can afford, with the most amount of RAM, the biggest screen, and the big- gest storage or hard drive you can afford. And then, I would advise that you bring your work to a place like Mesa Digital Commu- nications, where they understand photography and can scan your images with the highest possible resolution they can get, because the scan is the most critical part of it. It’s not necessary to buy a scanner right off the bat, because what you can probably afford is not really good enough to give you the quality you want. Once you have your scans, you can have experimental Iris prints and proofs made. And once again, go to a place like Mesa Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 where we do the whole nine yards. When we take on a job, we go from proof to perfect. We utilize Iris inkjet technology because it gives you the fi nest print you can get right now, bar none. GS: What does it cost to have an Iris print made? JD: About the same price as a traditional print—$60 for the fi rst 11 × 17 Iris print, with up to two proofs, but that doesn’t include scanning. Aside from a computer, I encourage newcomers to buy a storage mechanism for Photo CD. Read-write is still too expen- sive to recommend. Optical drives are the best—a 1.2 gigabyte optical drive to save all your scans for your archives. Jody Dole 77
Storing digital photographs correctly is expensive because they use a lot of space. A typical 11 x 17 Iris print requires approxi- mately a 40- to 50-megabyte fi le, and that’s not the fi nal word because we “res” things up. At Mesa, we will archive the fi le for our clients until they are ready to buy their own equipment or make further use of their scans. The photographers, of course, retain the copyright to their work. GS: In a couple of years more of this technology will be made available. JD: Right now for a read-write Photo CD, and CD-ROM, the cost is between $5000 and $10,000. But in a couple of years these technologies will be available at a lower cost. Sooner or later your standard Photo CD or CD-ROM drive will be a read-write CD drive. Let’s face it, the technology is available today, but the manu- facturers are going to make as much money as they can before they price it for the mass market. Its very seductive to have the ability to record your own Photo CDs. I would suggest when people start working with this digital imaging environment and storing these 30, 40, 50, 60 megabytes of photographs that they make note of where everything is and remember that the gravi- tational pull of the earth is constantly eroding away at your mag- netic pool of information. GS: So much for the archival properties. JD: Well, Photo CDs have apparently been accelerated-tested to 50 years, which isn’t bad. One method are DAT tapes, but it’s tape: it stretches and breaks. I always back two DATs for one. Opticals are better but they’re still magnetic. We continuously back up all the time. GS: What are the archival qualities of Iris prints? JD: It’s known that the light-fastness of the Iris print is not great, but it will be several years before they begin to fade—the magenta layer fades fi rst. Iris Graphics is obviously addressing these issues, and they are experimenting with different ideas. One thing they are trying to do is get all the layers to fade equally so it’s not as Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 perceptible. I think by 1994 or 1995 they will have a print that’s comparable to the C print in stability. GS: Does this concern you? JD: For my own use I’m not too concerned because my portfolios are in light-tight cases, and my exhibits go up for a short period of time. But I think it is a big issue when you do prints for art- ists whose work sells for a great deal of money and when the permanence and stability of the print is important. Actually, the Iris print was never intended to be used for this purpose. It was designed for prepress proofi ng of four-color printing. And then 78 Jody Dole
certain pioneers—Graham Nash, myself, and a few others—began using it, and it has developed a following and is becoming popular. GS: What are some of your future ambitions? JD: My biggest ambition with all this stuff is to have a few more kids, move to Sanibel Island with my wife, buy a hot-glue gun and a case of Styrofoam and glue shells. I swear to God, my biggest ambition is to go barefoot on a beach. My biggest goal is to take care of my family and enjoy life—that’s important to me. I don’t have any grand scheme to become the “Digital Master of Elec- tronic Imaging.” But we are using the technology of the future to get back to a “regular” life. I think that’s an important part of my story—that and the environmental issue. Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 9 PETER GALASSI
Photo Pro , April 1992
At the time of this interview Peter Galassi (b. 1951) had recently been appointed as director of the department of photography at the Museum of Modern Art in New York. He had been on the curatorial staff at MoMA for over ten years, but his affi li- ation with the museum goes back further than that: he worked there as a student intern in 1974–75 when he was an undergraduate at Harvard. And while a graduate student majoring in art history at Columbia, he was invited by John Szarkowski to curate an exhibition entitled “Before Photography: Painting and the Invention of Photography,” in 1981. Galassi had already organized ten exhibitions at MoMA and written several out- standing catalogs to accompany those shows, including Before Photography: Painting and the Invention of Photography (1981); Henri Cartier Bresson: The Early Work (1987); Nicholas Nixon: Pictures of People (1988); and Pleasures and Terrors of Domestic Comfort (1991). During his tenure as chief curator at MoMA (1991–2011) he organized or col- laborated on organizing over 40 exhibitions and collection displays at the museum, many of which were accompanied by catalogs and publications. Among the many notable exhibitions were “Roy DeCarava: A Retrospective” (1996); “Nicho- Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 las Nixon: Pictures of People” (1988); “Henri Cartier Bresson: The Early Work” (1987), and a later exhibition, “Henri Cartier Bresson: The Modern Century” (2010); “Walker Evans and Company” (2000); and “Friedlander” (2005). During his tenure he also added important acquisitions to the museum’s collec- tion and ensured that it would be a world-renowned and pre-eminent institution for both the display of photographs in its galleries and a repository and safe storage area for some of the world’s greatest photographic images and prints. This interview was conducted at the opening of “The Pleasures and Terrors of Domestic Comfort” exhibition and covers the exhibition as well as his personal perspectives on many of the controversial issues facing art and photographers of the day. 80 Peter Galassi
GRACE SCHAUB: “Pleasures and Terrors of Domestic Comfort”—is this a theme you’ve been exploring for a long time? PETER GALASSI: I formed the idea for the exhibition from responding to work that I was seeing. The show is not a curatorial fi ction—I didn’t decide from my point of view that it would be an interesting theme. GS: How do you select work for a show such as this? PG: Selection for a theme show is diffi cult. It gets very complicated. Inevitably the full richness, and in some cases the specifi c char- acter, of a particular photographer doesn’t survive the process of incorporation into the exhibition. It’s one thing when you’re looking at work on its own—completely separate from every- thing else. When you do that you’re trying to see what is best and most original about it, and what the special character of that work is. If you’re selecting 10 pictures from that body of work to suggest that photographer’s worth, that would be a relatively simple issue. GS: Do you have portfolio reviews for specifi c shows? PG: For a show such as this, the fi rst thing you do is to ask the pho- tographers themselves, the ones you know. That’s a good place to start, because photographers tend to know other photographers. You also ask other curators and people who are involved in pho- tography in different ways. This is how I found a great deal of work. Sometimes, you’re just lucky. There must be at least two or three people in this show who brought their work to our atten- tion in the normal course of trying to get it known. They weren’t even aware of the exhibition. GS: Do you have a formalized method of reviewing a photographer’s work? PG: We have a program of weekly portfolio viewings. Every Thursday morning the entire curatorial staff of the depart- ment sits down and looks at everything that has come in that week—either brought in or sent. We also go to galleries, look in magazines, and so forth. I should add that, inevitably, that process is imperfect and ongoing. There are always worthwhile Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 things we aren’t aware of and, if we worked a little harder, we might be aware of, or should be aware of. Especially now when there is worthwhile work being done by great numbers of peo- ple whose attitudes are quite diverse and who are geographi- cally all over the map. It is very hard to keep up. You learn things by working on a project like “Pleasures and Terrors,” and if I had two more months to work on the show it would be different than it is now. That is especially true for something as rich and complicated as this. But this isn’t the only exhibition we are going to do. Peter Galassi 81
GS: Did you feel any pressure from MoMA or the National Endow- ment for the Arts (NEA) to include or exclude any particular artists whose work may be considered controversial? PG: No, I didn’t feel any pressure at all. GS: Would you talk about your position on art, censorship, govern- ment funding, and the NEA? PG: I am opposed to censorship in principle. In the case of the NEA it’s not quite the same as censorship, as if the government said all of this work must be stamped out. However, I do have some very strong opinions about how the NEA process should work. I think that it has worked very well for most of the endowment’s 25-year history. There is no perfect way to choose artists and exhibitions and other kinds of programs and projects to support. They have what I think is the best method that anyone has thought of so far, which is a peer panel review process. These panels are con- sistently changing. Their selection is the work of the NEA staff, which is extraordinarily impressive. They are aware of who’s who and what’s going on, what the institutions are doing, and so forth. The staff works hard to have those panels represent geographic diversity, as well as a full range of diverse forms of expression. Essentially what’s been going on with the congressional objections to the NEA is the attempt to impose a kind of ability for someone at the top to be able to veto the judgments of the panels. I think that’s what is wrong. The judgments of these panels are never going to be perfect, but the people who work on those panels take their responsibility very seriously, and it is essential that that process remain untampered with. GS: What about government support of the arts in general? PG: Government support of the arts is valuable and should be expanded. But it is essential that Congress and the government granting agencies keep their hands as far off artistic judgments as possible. The vitality of our arts necessarily includes a great diversity, and therefore, there will be artistic expressions that not everybody is going to like. That is inevitable and desirable. Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 GS: Do you think a balance will be achieved? PG: Look at what happened in Cincinnati with the Mapplethorpe exhibition. That case went to court and the American judicial process worked. We discovered, much to my relief, that the citi- zens, who are supposed to be protected by the law, are more broadminded than some of the more vocal politicians. I have a strong suspicion these politicians are not as outraged as they are attentive to the political gain they can achieve with this issue. The arts issue is a tiny issue in comparison to the vastly more impor- tant domestic issues politicians should be paying attention to. 82 Peter Galassi
GS: It is responding to a very select group of the public. PG: This select group of the public that you refer to were, for the most part, not so exercised until the politicians fanned this tiny fl ame. GS: But they defend their attempt at censorship as protecting the moral tone of the nation. PG: If our children’s minds are being attacked by these sorts of issues, it’s not the Mapplethorpe exhibit that is doing the damage. It’s what’s happening on street corners and in the evening news. GS: Would you comment on one of the more recent fl agrant exam- ples of this, on what occurred with photographer Jock Sturges? PG: The FBI, or certain offi cials in the FBI, conducted an absolutely hair-raising investigation against Sturges. That it was completely unjustifi ed was shown by the fact the grand jury refused to indict him. The investigation spanned over a year, even extending into Europe. A lot of money was spent damaging this perfectly benign person’s life, when it could have been spent going after more seri- ous criminals. GS: What can people in positions such as yours do about these problems? PG: That’s a complicated question. In response to specifi c problems, one can respond in different ways. There are a number of organi- zations one can support. Some existed and some have sprung up in response to these issues. But perhaps more important for artists and museum curators is simply not to be intimidated. GS: Perhaps artists can also hope to be protected by the law, or by the strong support of the organizations you refer to? PG: Protected? You might say Jock Sturges was protected by the judi- cial system and the Constitution, but the damage that was done to him personally and artistically was severe, and in some respects, he may never recover from it. Certainly it’s a diffi cult period in his life, and it’s changed his life. In that sense he wasn’t protected. GS: Does an artist’s intent have to be communicated for that work to be considered art? Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 PG: I think most artists—even those who explain their intent at considerable lengths—would say the work embodies some- thing that could never be reduced to an explanation. Otherwise, why make it in the fi rst place? All the conditions that surround the making of the work, including what the artists say about it, are potentially relevant in trying to deal with, understand, and engage the work of art. None of those explanations are exhaustive, and many may get in the way of people responding to the work. No work of art—even a bad one—has just one meaning. Peter Galassi 83
Once the work leaves the artist’s hands it has a life of its own. It’s related to the life it had within the artist’s world, but it becomes different. The longer the work lives, by which I mean continues to hold interest for people to respond to it, the richer and more complicated the meanings become. GS: What makes a photograph a work of art? PG: One of the things about photography is that it has a great many worldly functions that are constantly being applied that are not narrowly artistic or aesthetic. In my view, it is impossible to establish in advance, in principle or in theory, those condi- tions where a particular photograph is or is not a work of art. The boundaries between what part of a photograph is usefully looked at through artistic lenses and how that becomes sepa- rated from all the other ways to look at a photograph are fl uid and very permeable. For the theoretician who wishes to have neat solutions in advance, that’s a very troubling situation. For someone who likes pictures and is interested in pictures, that’s a very welcoming situation. GS: Who are the photographers you admire the most? PG: When I was growing up and getting interested in photography, the photographers who many people, myself included, were fi rst attracted to were Henri Cartier-Bresson, Robert Frank, and then, if you were a little more serious, Lee Friedlander and Garry Win- ogrand. Those were the people I grew up on. Also, Diane Arbus. Diane Arbus was always more of a challenge because you were riveted by her work—you felt you had to deal with it. GS: Do you prefer black and white photography over color? PG: I have no preference. And the fact that there is more color in the current show than black and white is simply that more photogra- phers dealing with this issue work in color. Also, a certain Rubi- con has been crossed. There is now a whole generation—the youngest photographers in the show—who have never worked in black and white. For them photography is in color. There are Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 people whose work is represented in the exhibition who began in black and white, and then came to working in color, and go back and forth. GS: Do they use positive or negative fi lm? PG: Color negative. The materials keep getting better. Ektacolor type material is beautiful, especially in medium format, but even in 35mm. There’s an unbelievable openness, subtlety, and descriptive precision in those materials. GS: You have much more exposure leeway with color negative fi lm than with color positive fi lm. 84 Peter Galassi
PG: With color positive fi lm your exposure has to be right on the button, whereas with color negative fi lm you do have a certain leeway. You can overexpose to get the detail in the shadows, just like black and white. GS: How did you become interested in museum work? PG: I sought an internship at MoMA when I was an undergraduate at Harvard. I had so much fun, I thought I’d like to do this, but felt I wasn’t prepared. I decided to go for a graduate degree in art history. As I was nearing the end of that course of education John Szarkowski asked me to come here and do the “Before Photog- raphy” exhibition—which I did as guest curator while I was still a graduate student. Shortly before that exhibition opened he asked me if I’d like to join the staff here—and I said yes. GS: How do you see your future? PG: I’m a candidate for the position at MoMA as director of photog- raphy. [Note: He was appointed to that position and held it until 2011.] GS: John Szarkowski is leaving that position to pursue his own pho- tographic career. Are you a photographer as well? PG: No, as a mature person I never had serious artistic ambitions. I think if I had they would have made themselves known to me. I know enough about photography and understand the basic tech- niques, and that’s very useful in looking at the work. But I was never a full-time, mature photographer. John, on the other hand, was quite an accomplished photog- rapher before he took this position. He had two books of his own work published, he won two Guggenheim Fellowships as a photographer, he had exhibitions and a one-person show at the George Eastman House. He didn’t seek this job. The museum went to him, and I think he accepted it with some reluctance. GS: What are some of the exhibitions you are planning for the future? PG: We plan two to three years ahead for our shows—it takes that long. I have ideas, but also an idea that might have been great to Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 do three years ago might not be good to do three years down the road. Hopefully, at least to some degree, what we do is somewhat responsive to what’s happening out there. As changes occur, we feel it’s important to respond to them. GS: How does a serious photographer with a strong body of work make it known in the art world? PG: There’s no one best way to do it. It can be very hard, and I’m enormously sympathetic because often the best artists are the least savvy or aggressive about making their work known. There are a variety of ways to do that, and they are all painful because Peter Galassi 85
they all involve showing your work to somebody who may have the authority to do something about it. At least in the beginning, the answer for most people is going to be “no.” However, there are more outlets than there were a generation ago, and more people who may respond to the work differently. If museum A doesn’t respond to your work positively, museum B may; and if gallery A is not interested in your work, gallery B may be; and if publisher A isn’t interested in your work, publisher B may be. What comes with that, of course, is there’s a lot more shoe leather which has to be worn out in getting to all these people. In my experience there isn’t any particular justice in the response. Some people achieve success, or notoriety, very quickly. Others are critically applauded and do well fi nancially, and others have the critical applause, but don’t sell any pictures. There’s no justice in it. Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 This page intentionally left blank Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 10 BERNARD GOTFRYD
Photographer’ s Forum , September 1994
Bernard Gotfryd was born in Radom, Poland, in 1924. He was attracted to the “magic” of photography at a very young age. “I remember exactly when it was,” recalls Bernard. “I was nine years old. We had neighbors whose youngest daughter was my age. Her older brother had gotten a camera from his parents. I was abso- lutely fascinated by it. Every time he set up his camera on the tripod, I was right there—I couldn’t stay away. “One Saturday his whole family—mother, father, and two sisters—got ‘dressed to kill’ for a group shot. It was a very bright sunny day, and he had them all stand against a white stucco wall—the sun was hitting them right in the eyes, caus- ing them to squint. They couldn’t keep their eyes open. There was a whole cer- emony he went through by the time he took that one exposure. And, then, I heard the shutter—that buzzing sound. I was standing right next to him, and I thought, ‘That’s it! That takes a picture—that little noise takes a picture?’ “When I asked him when I could see the picture, he told me that he had to fi n- ish the whole roll of fi lm and send it to the drug store to be processed. Two weeks later when the fi lm was processed I went over and was amazed at what I saw; there was the picture of the whole family, just as they had posed two weeks before—lined Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 up against the wall—squinting in the sunlight. I was amazed at the details and the sharpness. It was so authentic. I was completely taken by this. And this is how I think I got hooked on photography. I was so captivated, I was having dreams about the camera.” When he was 11, his father brought a camera back from Warsaw for him. “It was a Baby Brownie,” says Bernard. “I can still see the original box it came in and the Kodak trademark. To think it came all the way from America; this was amazing to me.” Bernard began taking his camera wherever he went—to school, on fi eld trips—and he soon discovered how expensive fi lm and processing can be. He 88 Bernard Gotfryd
realized he had to earn more money to pay for his new hobby. He ran errands for his parents, and made deliveries for his uncle who owned a hardware store. And it wasn’t long before he was taking pictures of his classmates to help fi nance his photography. “During recess I would set up my Baby Brownie in the chemistry lab or in the classroom near a window, using available light. I would take pictures, and the kids would buy them from me. This is how I earned money to buy more fi lm and pay for the processing.” It was 1938—shortly before World War II—when Bernard was introduced to Mr. Borenstein, a friend of his aunt who owned a local photo studio. At fi rst, Borenstein invited him to observe as he processed fi lm and made prints. Soon Ber- nard was allowed to develop his own fi lms and print them in the darkroom, and it wasn’t long before he was apprenticing with Borenstein. When the war broke out there was no more school for Jews, but he continued to work as an apprentice at the photo studio until it was confi scated by the Nazis in 1942. Although Borenstein was Jewish, it was a Nazi photographer, Helmuth Reiner, a member of the Gestapo, who was instrumental in keeping Borenstein’s studio open. Reiner needed the services of a superior retoucher in order to keep his own photography operation going, which serviced the Gestapo. Bernard explains, “If he lost Borenstein as his retoucher Reiner would more than likely be sent to the front to fi ght the Russians, and nobody in his right mind wanted to fi ght the Russians. Therefore it was in his best interest to keep Boren- stein’s studio operating for as long as possible. Eventually, when the studio was confi scated, Reiner saved Borenstein and his family by hiding them behind closed doors in the studio, where he continued to bring his negatives to be retouched, until the bitter end, when all the Jews were sent to camps,” says Bernard. It was during this time that Bernard established contact with the Polish Resis- tance and passed to them pictures of atrocities he lifted from fi lms the Nazis dropped off to be developed at the studio. Bernard described his involvement with the Polish Resistance. “There were two aspects: First, they were interested in getting extra prints, especially of the atrocities. Almost every German soldier had a camera, it was part of their gear, and they pho- tographed everything and anything. And sure enough, when they dropped off the Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 fi lm for processing I would see the pictures, and if I saw any executions, hangings, beatings, or other atrocities, I would make extra prints, hide them, and pass them along to the Resistance. My heart was in my shoulder most of the time because I wasn’t really sure my hiding place was safe.” The second aspect of Bernard’s involvement with the Resistance was lifting photographs from the Gestapo photographer Helmuth Reiner who had his neg- atives retouched by Borenstein. “Of course, these negatives had to be returned to the Gestapo after retouching and new negatives picked up at the same time. This was my job, which I did twice a week. It was a long walk to the Gestapo headquarters—you can imagine how guarded it was—like a fortress! I saw a lot Bernard Gotfryd 89
just walking through the long corridors from one end to the other where Reiner had his studio. “Reiner photographed high-ranking offi cials of the Gestapo who weren’t allowed to be photographed in privately owned studios for fear that these pictures could eventually wind up in the hands of the Polish Resistance. These were 4 x 5 glass-plate negatives which I always carried in a box. The darkroom of Borenstein’s studio was located in an adjoining building. In the darkroom worked a very good friend of mine, an extraordinary guy. I suspected that he could also be working with the Resistance, but we could never exchange such information—it was too risky. “The darkroom had partitions. Usually, whenever I came in, my friend would be processing fi lm behind one of the partitions, so he never saw what I was doing. I went into the printing area, knocked 4 x 5 contact prints out, fi xed them, rinsed them a little, rolled them up wet, and stuck them in my pocket. Five or six negatives took me about fi ve minutes. Then, I brought the negatives back to Borenstein to retouch. Even if my friend would have noticed anything, I’m sure he wouldn’t have said a word. He never even bothered to ask me what I was doing.” Bernard was barely into his teens at the time, but he plays down any mention of bravery. “What does age have to do with it?” he says. “Chances are I would have done the same if I was younger. I had a choice—I didn’t have to do it, but I wanted to do it. To me, this was the right thing to do. This was something which was against the Nazis. And I was also totally mesmerized by Alexandra, my contact with the Resistance, a very beautiful and brave young woman. And of course, I was captivated by the whole anti-Nazi movement. I would have done anything to have the opportunity to fi ght the Nazis, no matter what it was. Lifting photographs was nothing in comparison to what others were doing.” This continued for over a year and a half—until Borenstein’s studio was confi s- cated, at which time Bernard got a job with another studio, where he worked until he was apprehended and shipped to a concentration camp. Bernard survived six concentration camps before the Liberation in May of 1945. After the Liberation, he had no idea whether his family had survived the horror of the war and the concentration camps. After such a disaster no one thought of anyone as being alive. “I accidently met my brother in Salzburg. He was looking for me because someone had told him they saw me in Linz, Austria. Before he heard this he was sure that I was dead; and I had never heard a word about him, so I was Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 sure that he wasn’t alive. He rode on a coal train for two days, but the train went only as far as Salzburg, although he meant to go further, to Linz. “The morning he got off the train, I just happened to go to the railroad station. I worked as an interpreter for an American Army outfi t at the time. A lieutenant and I were meeting a military train coming from Frankfurt to pick up the mail for the outfi t. As it happened, the train was late. I took a walk around the area near the railroad to look for a photofi nishing place. As I was walking along the street, sud- denly I heard someone calling my name. I looked, but I couldn’t recognize him—it was my brother, but he was now heavy and had no hair. My brother was always very thin. He ran over to me, shook me, and said, “Don’t you recognize me? I’m 90 Bernard Gotfryd
Michael, your brother.” He told me he heard about Helen, our sister—she was alive and living in Prague. Michael had been living in Stuttgart, Germany. I dropped everything, quit my job, and went back to Stuttgart with him, and then on to Prague to fi nd my sister.” Bernard met friends in Prague from his hometown who told him that Helen had left for Poland three days earlier to look for her two brothers. Bernard made his way to Poland, hitching rides, traveling from city to city looking for his sister, but every time he came to another city he would look up friends she would probably see, but it was always the same—she left two or three days before he arrived. Even- tually, he caught up with her in Stettin, which was in East German territory—a port city on the Baltic, given to Poland after the war. “Early in the morning when I arrived I was frozen stiff, tired, and hungry. The city was in ruins, and I didn’t know where to begin to look for her. The truck driver who had given me a lift took me to a Polish tea house—the only Polish tea house in Stettin. I had some hot tea and rolls, and as I was leaving, the cashier looked at me and asked, ‘Do you have a relative named Helen?’ I said, ‘Yes—she’s my sister.’ She said, ‘I thought you might be related, you look just like her. She comes in here every morning for rolls. I’m surprised she didn’t come in this morning.’ As it turned out, she lived just around the corner in the only building left intact after the war. That is how I found her.” In 1946, Helen emigrated to the United States, and Ber- nard and his brother joined her the following year. Their reunion in Europe had been brief. They didn’t want to be separated from one another again. In 1949, after being in this country for two years, Bernard was drafted into the U.S. Army. He trained in Fort Benning, Georgia, where he was assigned to the Signal Corps as a photographer. It was during his stint in the service that he got his start at Newsweek . Bernard was photographing a “New Weapons Demo,” and all the top army brass came down from the Pentagon to participate in the event. Bernard was asked by Newsweek ’s bureau chief from Atlanta if he would take a picture of General Omar Bradley for the cover of their overseas issue. “Newsweek photographers didn’t have access to the General,” said Bernard. “The army didn’t allow outside photographers or the private media to come in and take pictures during that event.” Bernard took two exposures with his 4 x 5 Speed Graphic, and handed the fi lm holder, with processing instructions, to the bureau chief who was to send them to Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 Newsweek ’s offi ces in New York City. The bureau chief thanked him and told him to stop by the offi ce whenever he got to New York. A couple of months later, while on a furlough in New York, Bernard visited Newsweek where he met the picture editor who had been thrilled with Bernard’s portrait of General Bradley. Bernard never got back his fi lm holder, but he did land a job as a stringer for the magazine while still in the U.S. Army. After he completed his military service, he moved to New York and freelanced part-time for Newsweek, while going to school evenings and working full-time in a photo lab. “I had an arrangement with the photo lab—I got to use the darkroom. I didn’t have one of my own at the time, and a darkroom is very important to a Bernard Gotfryd 91
freelance photographer. I wanted to do my own processing. I wasn’t paid very much, but this was a great help to me.” Bernard attended school, studying everything he could relating to photography. He took classes at both the School for Visual Arts and the New School for Social Research in New York City. He studied with one of the great photographer teach- ers, Alexy Brodovitch, whom he remembers advising him, “ ‘Do what you want to do.’ I just wish I had the time to take more classes with him,” says Bernard. In 1957, Bernard joined the staff as a full-time photographer at Newsweek , where for the next 35 years he photographed many prominent personalities in arts and letters from around the world, including famous authors, poets, musicians, and art- ists. He also photographed many of our presidents, including Lyndon Johnson, Richard Nixon, and Jimmy Carter. His most touching work refl ects his keen instincts and projects the sensitivity of his subjects. “When I take a portrait of someone it’s a new face and a new experi- ence. Each face represents a different story, a different motivation, and I approach it in a different fashion,” he says. “And, of course, something happens. The subject always has an impact on me—some chemistry takes place.” Bernard has the knack of putting his subjects at ease. “For most of my portrait assignments I strike up an acquaintance with my subjects. I never come in and pull out the camera and start shooting right away. That would be too abrupt. I never want to frighten anyone with a camera—with all the hardware and lights. I take my time, whenever I am able to. However, there were assignments when I had only fi ve minutes to do a portrait.” Over the years Bernard has maintained friendships with many of his subjects. “I’ve photographed John Cheever, Isaac Singer, Lillian Hellman, and Edward Dahl- berg many times throughout their careers. Every couple of years when Newsweek reviewed their latest work, they would send me out to shoot a new portrait. The editors like to keep the pictures current.” In 1983, Bernard was assigned by Newsweek to cover the Holocaust Survivors Gathering in Washington, D.C. And in April of that year Newsweek magazine pub- lished his fi rst story based on that gathering titled, “A Very Personal Report.” Two months later Bernard was sent to Poland to cover the Pope’s trip for News- week . Once there, he made a side trip to Radom, where he was born and lived as a child. He feels his trip to Poland was the catalyst to make him write about his Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 boyhood before and during the war. “After all those years of keeping it inside me, I wanted to tell my story.” It was one of his subjects, the poet W. H. Auden, who encouraged Bernard to write about his own experiences. “When I told him I wasn’t a writer, he said, ‘You’ll never know until you sit down and put it on the bloody paper.’ ” In 1990, Bernard’s book of short stories, Anton the Dove Fancier and Other Tales of the Holocaust was published by Washington Square Press. This collection of sto- ries has won him the Christopher Award and the Pen/American Martha Albrand Citation Award, and the Book of the Month Club nominated it for “New Visions.” The New York Public Library included “Anton the Dove Fancier” among the best 92 Bernard Gotfryd
reading for the 12-to-18 age group catalog in 1991. It has also been published in several foreign countries over the past few years including England, Italy, Sweden, and Holland. There are plans in the works for presenting a play in England based on 9 of the 21 short stories. In his introduction, Bernard writes:
I have wanted to tell my story for the longest time—for more than years, in fact. I have always been concerned that if I didn’t set these moments down on paper I would forget them, but when I started to write I realized that one doesn’t forget such tragic events, not even after forty years. I can still hear my mother, hours before she was deported, begging me to go into hiding, begging me to survive to tell the world what the Nazis did to us. Her words have sat heavily on my mind; I lived with them, I shared them over and over with my children, with my friends, and with anybody who was willing to listen. Very often processions of long gone faces appear in my dreams, and the echoes from the ghettos and camps still reverberate in my ears.
Bernard lives in Forest Hills, New York, and East Hampton, Long Island, with his wife, Gina. He continues to explore his myriad talents in writing, photograph- ing, and painting. He has recently completed a satire with three characters, and is working on another writing project. His photographs have been shown in several galleries over the years. His work is included in several collections in the United States. While known mostly for his portraits done while at Newsweek , Bernard also has an outstanding portfolio of landscape and nature studies entitled “Environmen- tal Expressionism.” An important element in all his creative endeavors is his sense of balance, design and harmony of composition, and color. “It’s what is important to me,” he says. “It puts me at ease.” Pictures continue to be important for Bernard as well. In his studio he keeps a print he made from a picture he clipped out of Newsweek several years ago of Sig- mund Freud taken in the 1920s. “To me, this is a picture of my grandfather. Freud looks just as my own grandfather looked—as I remember him, a carbon copy.” There are no pictures of his own grandfather—all the family belongings, including Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 family photographs, were lost, confi scated, or destroyed by the Nazis. There are a few remaining family pictures that he cherishes. One is of his grand- mother that he took himself before the war with a 35mm Retina, and another is of himself. This is actually a picture taken for his I.D. when he was 16 years old during the Nazi occupation. Perhaps one of the most important photographs is the wed- ding picture of his Uncle Hershel and his bride Annette, taken in Paris. In fact, one of the short stories in Anton the Dove Fancier is called “The Wedding Picture.” It is a sensitive and poignant story about the photograph, its importance to Bernard as a child in pre-war Poland, and throughout the war while he was moved from one concentration camp to another. Bernard Gotfryd 93
“The wedding picture,” recalls Bernard, “was about the size of a postcard, and it was sepia-toned. It became my link to the outside world.” As a child he would carry on imaginary conversations with the picture. “At times, I imagined, Hershel and Annette spoke to me. The wedding picture became my icon. “When the war broke out and we were under Nazi occupation, the family had to give up the apartment and move to a newly created ghetto in another part of the city. Most of the furniture and possessions, including our pictures, had to be left behind.” Bernard managed to remember the wedding picture. “But when the ghetto was liquidated and I was sent to the camps, in the saddest moments of my incarceration, I remembered Uncle Hershel’s wedding picture and Annette’s warm smile. To me it was proof that I belonged to a family, that I had roots. “Pictures carry memories. I remembered the facial expressions from that pho- tograph throughout my entire time in the camps. I remembered every photograph we had in the house of every one of my relatives. And I thought about them all the time. I would visualize what they looked like. I remembered—to me it was very important, and it still is. Fifty years later I’m still searching for a picture of my mother. With some luck, perhaps I’ll fi nd it.” Editor’s note: This essay was originally titled, “Bernard Gotfryd: The Strength of Memories.” Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 This page intentionally left blank Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 11 LOIS GREENFIELD
Photographer’s Forum , July 1990
Lois Greenfi eld (b. 1949) began her career in dance photography covering experi- mental dance events for New York’s Village Voice in the mid 1970s. It wasn’t long before Greenfi eld understood, like Barbara Morgan before her, that to realize her own vision for movement and dance she must take the dancers from dress rehearsals and theater performances into her own studio. By photographing in her own studio she could focus her attention on the danc- ers and their individual movements, unencumbered by time limitations, stage light- ing, and set-choreographed pieces. She was free to develop her own dynamic dance imagery. In 1982 she opened her own studio and began photographing Dave Parsons, a young dancer who at the time was a member of the Paul Taylor Company. Parsons became a muse for her, along with dancers Daniel Ezralow and Ashley Roland. Since the time of this interview, two monographs of Greenfi eld’s dance photo- graphs have been published by Chronicle Books: Breaking Bounds: The Dance Pho- tography of Lois Greenfi eld by William Ewing (1992), and Airborne: The New Dance Photography of Lois Greenfi eld (1998). Today, Greenfi eld is a highly respected photographer who has achieved recogni- Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 tion in both the dance and photographic communities for her work. Her dance photography has been honored with awards from Graphis and The One Club, and she was presented with a Hasselblad Cover Award. Her images have been exhibited throughout the world in many prestigious galleries and museums. She lectures and teaches workshops across the United States in such places as the Santa Fe Photo Workshops. She also teaches in Canada, Europe, Asia, and Australia. Her work has been featured in the New York Times, Rolling Stone, Sports Illus- trated , and fashion and glamour magazines including Vogue , Vanity Fair , and Elle . Her commercial clients include Adidas, Danskin, Disney, Dupont, Sony, and Raymond Weil Watches, to name a few. Greenfi eld has also fi lmed and directed several TV 96 Lois Greenfi eld
commercials, including Target’s “Stars on Ice” and the Broadway show “On the Town.” This interview was conducted after a shoot in Greenfi eld’s studio.
GRACE SCHAUB: You seem to be a muse for your dancers as much as they are for you. They seem inspired by your photography. LOIS GREENFIELD: The relationship is defi nitely reciprocal. The best example of that is Dave Parsons’ signature dance “Caught,” which he cre- ated in the 1980s as a result of our collaboration. Using pho- tographic strobes and a remote cable release (in the beginning, my own) on a darkened stage, he would fi re the strobes at the peak of his leaps, giving the impression he was fl ying around the stage in animated still images. Sometimes, too, choreographers like the changes I make in the angle or perspective of a combination and they end up reworking their own choreography accordingly. The collabo- ration I have with my dancers is 50–50 in terms of the fl ow of ideas. I might throw out a question or a problem for them to solve, and then I rely on them to work out how they would do it, or they might show me something fabulous, which sends me in a whole new direction. What’s interesting is that after one or two photo sessions with me they get the hang of what I’m looking for (as you saw, I engage them in the process the entire time by showing them Polaroids), and then they come in bursting with ideas. I like to work with the same dancers for that reason, because you can skip over the basics and get deeper into exploring the potentials of movement. After a few years a photo shoot can practically be done in silence because the intuitive communication is so strong. GS: During your shoot, you suggested the dancers “get away from choreography.” What did you mean by that? LG: The highly experimental work Dave and I did in the early 1980s was when he was a dancer with the Paul Taylor Com- pany. He was just beginning to fi gure out how his body moved Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 independent of choreography. Now, when we work together, I have to overcome the choreographic signature he has since created for himself! And it’s hard for him and the dancers to do that, and it poses a considerable challenge. At the end of the second day of one shoot, the girls had little dresses on. It was hard to get them out of the “chore- ography” mode until we played with their costumes, unsnap- ping the dresses and resnapping them to each other, cut-out paper-doll style. Just changing one variable opened up a stream of possibilities. Lois Greenfi eld 97
GS: Could you talk about the more choreographed moments from dances and how they may or may not work with your own vision and direction? Also, you mention in your book “peak moments in dance and choreography and transitional moments beneath the threshold of perception.” Just what does that refer to in your work? LG: Basically, if I’m asked to work with choreography, I try to fi nd the most visually interesting and unusual moments specifi c to that person’s choreographic signature. Then I rework the spatial orientation or perspective of the movement, or I recombine different sections of the dance. Then, the most important thing is to stretch the moments until they fall apart, having the danc- ers move through the phrases with full energy: otherwise, the moments would be dead. The “transitional moments beneath the threshold of perception” are the moments between the intended choreographic accents. These connecting links are often unseen by both the choreographer and the audience. GS: How did you develop your lighting approach? LG: I use Broncolor Grafi t A2 strobes with six to seven Pulso heads, the main head being a Bi-tube. Among other reasons we use Broncolor is because of the adjustable fl ash duration, up to 1/6000th of a second. We use 1/2000th of a second, which is crucial for razor-sharp images. Even though I shoot at 1/250 or 1/500 shutter speed on the Hasselblad, my images still wouldn’t be sharp without such a short fl ash duration. I use a 500C/M and a 150 or 120mm lens, and a Polaroid back with 100-speed fi lm. Our black and white fi lm is Kodak Plus X. GS: What are some of the technical challenges and problems that arise from photographing dancers moving at high speed? LG: The challenge isn’t so much technical. It really requires recog- nizing the moments as they are about to happen and imagining the possibilities of what could happen and steering the dancers toward that. Fighting to fi t the dancers into a seemingly large but never large enough space is always frustrating. Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 GS: You seem to have an instinct when to move on to another setup with the dancers. You said, “Let’s try something else. It’s over. I can feel it.” LG: I start to rearrange the dancers and “shape” the picture, or throw out new ideas to try. Every concept has its peak when the energy and spirit are fresh. After maybe ten times, the dancers’ mental and physical efforts begin to fl ag, and frankly mine does too! At this point it’s time to move on to the next idea. I always want to achieve a spontaneous look in my pictures, even though, as you saw during the shoot, the dancers are well rehearsed in advance. 98 Lois Greenfi eld
I never wait for a perfect Polaroid. I want to get the maximum spontaneity and improvisation on real fi lm. GS: What came fi rst, your love of dance and movement or your love of photographing this subject? LG: My love of photographing movement! I’m not a dance fan! GS: What inspires you to continue photographing dance and move- ment? LG: For me, it’s the enormous expressive potential of energy, the emotional nuances and resonance of the different phases of a movement. GS: What constitutes a successful image for you? And what do you look for in your work? LG: A successful image is one in which you can’t formulate what you are seeing in a logical, narrative sentence. Instead, I want the viewer to wonder what the hell is happening! GS: What challenges do you face when fi lming and directing TV commercials? Is there a different set of concerns than you have for still photography? LG: The process of directing dance for fi lm is diametrically opposed to my still work. For example, I tend to fi lm slow motion, because by slowing down the movement it more closely resembles the experience of viewing my still photo- graphs. I think I mentioned how people fi nd my images to be surreal because they are automatically assuming that the time they spend viewing the picture is the same as the duration of the event! In fact, the still image represents only 1/250th of a second of the movement. So my dancers look glued together, when in reality they are in fl ight. The still photograph gives the moment a solidity that the event doesn’t really have. So what I am saying about working in fi lm is that the opposite approach (slo-mo versus fast shutter) produces the same visual experi- ence. If I fi lmed in real time, you wouldn’t be able to “see” the moments I’m isolating. I discovered something else when working on a short com- Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 mercial for two Argentinean hip-hop dancers, who I had shot for a Capezio catalog. The dynamic moments we created for the stills were useless for fi lm. They just didn’t work. Film demands a whole new vocabulary of movement, involving editing and camera moves. GS: Is fi lm a direction you are pursuing in your work? LG: Yes, I’m pursuing fi lm! I feel passionate about it. At the same time, it is reinvigorating my still work. 12 DOUGLAS KENT HALL
Photographer’s Forum , November 1992
At the time of this interview, Douglas Kent Hall (1938–2008) had been com- bining his talents in photography and writing to depict the beauty, spirit, and mystery of the American West for over 20 years. He is best known for his photographs of the people who live there: cowboys, Native Americans, and Hispanic-Americans. Hall was born and raised in eastern Utah in a community bordering Ute Indian land. He was educated at Brigham Young University and the Writer’s Workshop at the University of Iowa, where he studied creative writing and served as special assistant to Paul Engel. After graduation, he taught creative writing at the University of Portland in Oregon. Hall was a successful writer as well as photographer and published over 20 books, including Rock: A World Bold as Love (Cowels, 1972); Let ‘Er Buck! (Saturday Review/Dutton, 1973); Rodeo (Ballantine, 1975); Working Cowboys (Holt, Rinehart, and Winston, 1984); The Border: Life on the Line (Abbeville, 1988); Passing Through: The Western Meditations of Douglas Kent Hall (Northland Publishing, 1989); and In Prison (Henry Holt, 1989). He also wrote two nov- els, On the Way to the Sky (Saturday Review/Dutton, 1972) and Rock and Roll Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 Retreat Blues (Avon, 1974). When we spoke he had just fi nished the manuscript for a new book, New Mexico: Voices in an Ancient Landscape , that was published by Henry Holt in 1995. Hall’s photographs are represented in several galleries: at the Sena Gallery in Santa Fe; the Photographic Image in Portland, Oregon; the Betty Moody Gallery in Houston; and the Special Photography Gallery in London. For the 15 years prior to this interview Hall and his family had been liv- ing in Alcalde, a small village in New Mexico near the Rio Grande River. 100 Douglas Kent Hall
The area has cultural roots that date back to 16th-century Spain, and ancient Native American tradition is kept alive in neighboring pueblos. This is where I met and spoke with Hall about his roots in photography, writing, and the wild West.
GRACE SCHAUB: How did you get involved in photography? DOUGLAS KENT HALL: I got my first camera while I was teaching creative writ- ing in Oregon. I had always really liked photography as a medium. My first roll of film has W. H. Auden, the poet, on it. I had just bought a first camera, and I took it to lunch where I was meeting Auden. That portrait is one of my favorites, one that holds a lot of meaning for me. Within my first year of owning a camera I landed my first job as a photographer, which was pretty amazing to me. GS: What was your fi rst assignment? DKH: I was sent to photograph Jim Morrison and The Doors in concert. This was in 1967. It was an advertising job. Some- one I knew recommended that an art director look at my work. GS: What was next? DKH: I went on from there to photograph almost everyone in rock and roll, including Jimi Hendrix, The Who, and the Rolling Stones. GS: Did you continue to teach creative writing? DKH: I had been teaching for three years and really wanted to move on to something else. I was still fresh out of college. I had published a few things, but I was a kid. I didn’t feel I had enough experience as a writer to teach other people to write. Now, after publishing over 20 books and having a lot of articles out there, I feel I’m better equipped to teach writing as well as photography, and I think I have something to say. But in those days I lacked real experi- ence. I’m not so cocksure now—I mean, I wouldn’t just Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 go in and say this is the way you should do it. But I’ve had some success and some failures, so I know what it’s like on both sides of the fence. It’s quite a different experi- ence than going straight from college to teaching people something you’ve only begun to do yourself. GS: The camera, then, offered you a new direction. DKH: Yes, as a writer it wasn’t easy to make a living, but as a pho- tographer I was doing a lot of interesting things. Douglas Kent Hall 101
GS: As a freelancer? DKH: Yes, always as a freelancer. GS: How do your writing and photography work together? DKH: I’ve been combining my writing and photography since the very beginning. For me, it’s a good balance. They are two very different disciplines, but I like doing both very much. On the days I photograph, I can’t conceive of what I would write about. I always take notes, but I have to get in another frame of mind to write. Each discipline comes from a differ- ent level of the personality. GS: Are there confl icts? DKH: The biggest confl icts are agents. They often want you to choose one or the other. GS: Would you talk about your most recent project? DKH: The title is “Voices from an Ancient Landscape.” It is a book based on my move to New Mexico and interviews I’ve done with Native Americans, Hispanic-Americans, and Anglos from this part of the country. I have a lot of documentary shots of the Matachine danc- ers, and landscapes, and also portraits of the people in their own homes. Sometimes when I go to photograph them they’re dressed like they’re going to church. I’ve been try- ing to surprise them because I like photographs that just catch people as they are. After that, I’ll sit them down to photograph them in a more formal fashion. I really like to collaborate with the people I photograph. But I don’t set anything up. I just start shooting. GS: Why did you choose to base your book on this area? DKH: This is a very unusual place. People have a certain sophis- tication that is different from any place I’ve ever been. And yet, they have a total lack of “sophistication,” which I think is really their best quality. It’s what I’ve always liked about this place. And I think that is one of the fac- tors that makes it dangerous. The other night I woke up Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 to my dog’s barking. There were ten cop cars out front. They had chased a guy out here. The cops were accusing him of drunkenness, indecent exposure, and speeding. They fi nally found him two doors away. We occasion- ally have gun battles in this town—neighbors shooting across the street at one another. I wrote about that in my book. But you know, we’ve never had much trouble here ourselves. I think people just mind their Ps and Qs. My 102 Douglas Kent Hall
wife and I just sort of looked at this whole thing when we moved out here 15 years ago and saw how we wanted to present ourselves—and stay alive. GS: And how is that? DKH: Just being careful. I’m not insinuating we are into the community so much, but we are a part of it. On the other hand, we have a son who was born here. He’s a native. It’s his place, and he has a very different take on it than we have. GS: Why did you come to New Mexico, and what does it hold for you? DKH: I came to New Mexico because it was one of the only places I could conceive of moving to from New York, where I had been living for some time. I had never seen any place where I wanted to live as much as here. I was drawn by the magic of the land. GS: What was your fi rst New Mexico experience? DKH: I came fi rst to see the D. H. Lawrence house because I was a real fan of his, having read all his books. That was in 1958. I was in college and I drove to Albuquer- que, then up to Taos—and the funny thing is, I’m sure I passed the house I live in now on the way to Taos, because this road was the only highway through at that time. I remember how the Taos Plaza looked then— it was so beautiful! I went on to the D. H. Lawrence house in San Cristobal, and walked up the steps to the shrine. The place scared me. I backed out and left. Years later, when I was photographing Dorothy Brett, who was a close friend of Lawrence’s and who had deco- rated the shrine, I told her about it. She understood . My settling in New Mexico may have had something to do with the way the country looked around here, but a lot of it had to do with the way the country felt. It is very diffi cult to explain. I call it magical. I understand Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 what I mean, but I can’t explain it. It’s really a very spe- cial spot in the world—like no other place. GS: And a very special place to photograph. DKH: Yet for years I didn’t even want to photograph around here. I came here to live, and I went away from here to work. I’d work on projects in other places. GS: When did you start photographing here? DKH: The fi rst thing I did here were the Matachine dancers—and that’s just a thing that goes on here in the village. Douglas Kent Hall 103
GS: You said you originally came to the Southwest to photo- graph Native Americans. DKH: Yes, and once I moved here I no longer photographed them. I don’t know why that was. Once in a while I did take pictures of dances at the pueblos and of friends, and I have accumulated a collection of photographs over the years. But I never actively started photographing them again, until I started working on “Voices from an Ancient Landscape.” GS: Is there a reason? Was it out of respect? DKH: Something like that. It had to do with the power of this place. A lot of people just come here and immediately want to photograph everything they see, but it took me years. Living here was really enough. I was going away to different locations to work on book projects because I always need to earn money, but I kept getting closer to being able to photograph here. It started with landscapes, which is strange for me because I mostly photograph people. I started a series called “Dark Landscapes,” which included other areas as well. GS: What is the camera format of choice for you? DKH: I shoot 35mm and 2 1/4. I’ve never been drawn to large- format cameras. To me they’re like driving an 18-wheeler when you can get there in a Jeep or a Ferrari. They’ve never appealed to me. I never liked the look of those photographs either, but I do admire photographers such as Ansel Adams enormously. GS: Who are the photographers you most admire? DKH: I would take the work of Edward Weston and Paul Strand over Ansel Adams. Weston’s work has a little rougher quality, and that appeals to me. It’s not as slick as Adams. Actually, Paul Strand’s work really appeals to me because he and I have gone to a lot of the same places to photograph. I love the way he photographs landscapes, I love the way he pho- Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 tographs people, and I love the way he combines the two. I’m also drawn to Kertész, Bill Brandt, Alvarez Bravo, and Cartier-Bresson. GS: What were the fi rst pictures you had published of New Mexico? DKH: The fi rst pictures I published from this area were in Work- ing Cowboys, the book I did on ranch cowboys. In Prison was next. Most of my prison photographs were shot in 104 Douglas Kent Hall
Santa Fe. I shot in other prisons as well, but I think the most powerful pictures were done in Santa Fe. It’s hard for me to think of those as New Mexico photographs, but they’re mostly people from New Mexico. In Prison was actually a project I started with Arnold Schwarzenegger. We were going to do a documentary fi lm together, but he was just getting into the Conan series and didn’t have the time to work on it. There are a couple of shots of Arnold in the book, though, because we went to a few prisons in California together. GS: What followed? DKH: After the prison work, I began to photograph a series of churches out here. I was so burned out on the prison series. I worked on it for 8 years. GS: The prison series must have been rough, with a lot of mixed- up and unfortunate people living in sad circumstances, each with a story to tell. DKH: I met a guy in prison who had stolen a calf worth about $125 at the time. He killed it to feed his family because they were starving. He was put in jail for a few years, but he’s still in jail and it’s probably 30 years later. Those were the kind of stories. Here’s a guy who steals an animal to feed his family. He wasn’t going to hurt anybody—he was just trying to survive. It’s a real American story. GS: Photographing the churches must have been a relief for you. DKH: Yes. Time to get away from all that pain. I traveled a lot, and avoided having even one person in this new work. But in a funny way these pictures do have people in them, because the spirit of those who built the churches is apparent. GS: Sometimes what is excluded from a picture is what it is all about. DKH: I learned a lot about New Mexico by photographing its Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 churches. I learned about its history, the people who live in the communities, the people who built the churches, the people who have fallen away from them, and the superstition that goes along with it all. And that includes mythology added by the Native Americans and the Penitentes. GS: Are there any other projects you are working on? DKH: From the church series I returned to photographing land- scapes and people. After the churches I’ve started to look at landscapes and people in a different way. Douglas Kent Hall 105
GS: How’s that? DKH: It’s a new experience for me. With the landscapes I’ve been shooting more abstractly. To me the results look like abstract, hard-edged paintings. The subject is recognizable, but for me it’s a new way to focus and photograph. I never go out to document anything—I try to personalize what- ever I see. Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 This page intentionally left blank Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 13 GEORGE KALINSKY
Photographer’s Forum , February 1989
The sports photographs and portraits of George Kalinsky (b. 1936) have appeared in Sports Illustrated, People , and Newsweek , and in the pages of many of the books and programs he produced for sports teams and events. For years he was the offi cial photographer at Madison Square Garden and Radio City Music Hall and for the New York Mets, and his iconic images of sports teams, boxers, presidents, rock stars, and numerous personalities and performers made him the go-to photographer for the sports and entertainment industry in New York for many years. Among his most famous portraits are those of Frank Sinatra, Luciano Pavarotti, Muhammad Ali, as well as those of presidents and of Pope John Paul II saying mass in New York City, which sat on the pontiff’s desk in the Vatican. His work has been exhibited at the Museum of Modern Art, the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the International Center for Photography, and the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. His images of Elvis Presley, John Lennon, the Rolling Stones, Elton John, and Stevie Wonder are on permanent display at the Hall of Fame. He has authored numerous books fi lled with his images, had images published in magazines and newspapers all over the world, and his work is in the permanent collections of the National Basketball Hall of Fame, Citifi eld, the Jewish Museum Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 of New York, and Madison Square Garden. In 2010 he received the National Arts Club Medal of Honor.
GRACE SCHAUB: Your involvement with the Knicks goes back a long time, doesn’t it? GEORGE KALINSKY: Yes. I photographed the championship team in 1969–70, when they beat the Los Angeles Lakers. I published a book that year on the Knicks. And in 1973, I did another book on Wilt Chamberlain. The irony is, I had played basketball with Wilt Chamberlain when we were both 17 years old up in the Catskills at camp one summer. 108 George Kalinsky
GS: You were an athlete? GK: I always loved sports. When I was in high school, I had to make the decision whether I wanted to pursue a career as a baseball player or an artist—photography had not come into the picture yet. GS: How did you make that decision? GK: I decided whatever I was to be, I wanted to be the best I could be at it. As much as I loved baseball, I knew I could never be a great player—but I was a good artist. GS: How did you get into photography? GK: It wasn’t until 1965 when I “fell” into photography. It was a complete accident. I was in Miami interviewing for a job as a sports cartoonist at the Miami Herald . GS: And they gave you a job as a photographer? GK: No. I saw Muhammad Ali on the street. I was carrying my Rollei at the time, but had never taken pictures of anyone out- side my family before. Ali was going into a gym with Howard Cosell, the sportscaster. I asked what was happening. Cosell was interviewing Ali. I talked my way into the gym and shot one roll, 12 shots, of the Champ. That night, Ali was the hot- test topic in the news. My wife and I went back to the Miami Herald ’s photography department and asked if they would develop the fi lm. They did, and liked the shots so much they put one over the wire service. The very next day, that picture was all over the world. GS: That’s amazing! What did you do after that? GK: As I said, they were the fi rst non-family pictures I had ever taken, and I had the idea I was on a roll. I fl ew back to New York and went to Madison Square Garden to see John Con- don, who was the head of boxing at the time—he’s still here. I showed him my 12 pictures of Ali, and he liked them so much he hired me to take photographs of championship boxers. I did pre-publicity pictures of Emil Griffi th and Dick Tiger, who were fi ghting for the championship. GS: You were on a roll! Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 GK: One week later, I went up to the Concord and Grossingers Resorts, where both boxers were training. I was assigned to take pictures of whatever they did. GS: In or out of the ring? GK: Both. Most photographers had always taken posed shots. I had no idea what the right thing to do was. Condon just told me to do my thing. Whatever my thing was! GS: Which was? GK: It turned out to be very emotional, candid pictures. I took some close-ups of sweat dripping on their bodies. Shots of them hanging out, playing with children, smelling fl owers, George Kalinsky 109
pumping gas—whatever they did naturally. But I did exag- gerate it a bit. For example, if they were jogging, I’d have them run along a boulder or a more dramatic backdrop than usual. I loosened up as I went along and got to know them better. GS: Did the Garden like the results? GK: Yes. I had the fi lm developed and brought in the negatives. Condon picked about 50 of them and told me he wanted 10 prints of each by the next day. He was pulling my leg, but I didn’t know it at the time. Remember, I wasn’t a photogra- pher, and I had never printed a picture before in my life, nor did I know how. GS: How did you print 500 pictures overnight? GK: I ran out and bought an enlarger, photo chemicals, and darkroom supplies. My wife and I set everything up, read the instructions, waited until dark, and began printing. But, I didn’t read the developer instructions carefully, and mixed it 1:1 instead of 1:2. The prints came up very fast—within fi ve seconds. That was probably the only way I could get 500 prints done overnight. GS: And I’m sure it took all night. GK: We printed until 5:00 a.m. They were paying me 50 cents a print, which seemed like a million dollars to me at the time. GS: You made your deadline? GK: Well, it was morning, and now I had 500 wet pictures. I put them in our baby’s bathtub, called Newsday , and asked if I could come over and use their print dryer. They said yes, I brought them in, and the job was done in an hour. I sorted the prints, got on the Long Island Railroad train to New York, went to Madison Square Garden, and handed Condon the 500 prints GS: What was his response? GK: He never said a word—like it was routine! GS: He liked the pictures? GK: Yes, and the Garden was impressed that the newspapers picked Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 up on these pictures so quickly. It was tremendous publicity. GS: Where were they published? GK: In New York City, at that time, there were several newspapers. We still had the Herald Tribune, The New York World-Telegram and Sun , and The Daily Mirror. For 30 days straight my pictures appeared in the papers, and most of the time as layouts and center spreads. GS: When did you begin photographing the Knicks? GK: About one week after the boxing photos were out, I went into the offi ce and asked if I could photograph a basketball game. I was an old Knicks fan, and always loved the sport. I used the 110 George Kalinsky
same Rollei, and 3 out of the 12 shots were spectacular. Even today when I look at them I’m amazed. I had the fi lm devel- oped at a drug store, and brought the small book of prints to the Knicks’ publicity offi ce. GS: And what did they say? GK: They said, “Our photographer just broke his leg, and maybe you can take pictures for us. We’ll give you $35 a game. Let’s see how you do.” They asked me to bring in a contact sheet to make a selection, and I said, “What’s a contact sheet?” So they laughed and told me. GS: In what year was this all happening? GK: 1966. And by 1969, I was working on my fi rst book—it sold over 100,000 copies. GS: What book is that? GK: The First Knicks Championship Team . GS: How old were you when you started in photography? GK: I wasn’t that young—I was almost 30 years old. GS: What were you doing before? GK: My family owned a juvenile furniture store that my father started. So I was in the juvenile furniture business from 1960 to 1964, and decided I wanted to leave the business. My father was disheartened because neither my brother nor myself wanted to be in the business. GS: Initially you wanted to be a sports cartoonist? GK: I wanted to do something creative. I had an art background, and had gone to Pratt and studied industrial design. I was a good sports cartoonist, and an advertising illustrator, but didn’t know where I was going to take the artistic talent. I became a struggling graphic designer. GS: And eventually photography brought it all together? GK: It’s being in the right place at the right time. Anybody who has talent and luck can make it. GS: And a LOT of motivation! GK: I was a hustler, and my wife was very instrumental and sup- portive. She was strong-willed about helping me succeed, Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 because she knew I didn’t want to be in the juvenile furniture business, and I wanted to make it on my own—I didn’t want anything given to me. I never asked my father for any money or anything materialistic. I always wanted whatever I had to be my own, and he respected me for that. I felt very strongly about being successful on my own. GS: How do you feel about photographers entering the fi eld today? GK: More and more people are getting into photography, and it’s becoming diffi cult for them to get good jobs, but somehow George Kalinsky 111
the really talented people get there. But talent alone doesn’t make one successful. I think you have to be well-rounded in many areas, and in some cases, it may be the talent in combi- nation with the personality that creates the success. In sports, for instance, Muhammad Ali comes to mind. He is a great champion, but he also has a great personality, therefore he is a “Super Star.” GS: You worked closely with Ali, didn’t you? GK: We spent hundreds of hours together. He was always aware that one day his boxing career would come to an end and wondered what would happen to him. He was convinced that people would no longer support him, and that bothered him very much. I feel very bad about his injury. I’m sure if he’d quit the ring two or three years earlier, he probably wouldn’t be in the situation he is in now. GS: What is it about Ali that attracts so many people? GK: He is really a wonderful character, and I would say the most dominant sports person I have ever photographed, or been around. He was very conscious of his image, which he backed up with his mouth. He worked very hard at everything he did. Ali probably worked equally on his voice approach as he did on his boxing. GS: His boxing ability came naturally; his “poetry” took more work. GK: I can remember riding in a car with Ali. He was training in Miami and wanted to visit a ghetto in Fort Lauderdale—we don’t think of Fort Lauderdale as having a ghetto, but there certainly was one in 1971, and it took us an hour to get there. The whole time in the car, he was repeating, “Float like a butterfl y, Sting like a bee,” and then he would go to his next rhyme. He would work on these little rhymes for hours—no different than a dancer may work on a particular movement for hours in a gym. GS: Was he trying to memorize the lines? GK: Yes, he was trying to memorize them perfectly with just the right infl ection for when he spoke before the public. He Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 turned out to be a good orator. Even though the talent he had as an orator was limited, he put everything he had behind it. He was marvelous, a real champion. GS: Did you photograph the Frazer/Ali fi ght in 1971? GK: Yes. And before the fi ght, I did publicity shots of both fi ghters. I got into the ring with Ali with my camera, and had him take shots at me while I was shooting pictures of him. I couldn’t believe his timing and precision. His fi sts came within inches of my camera, and never once hit it. GS: You had that much confi dence in the Champ’s ability? 112 George Kalinsky
GK: I must have been naive, but I did have the confi dence that he had that kind of timing and precision. I got into the ring with Frazer and tried the same thing but didn’t last long, because he didn’t have that same sense of timing Ali had and I didn’t want to get hit. GS: There aren’t that many championship fi ghts at the Garden to photograph anymore, are there? GK: No, most of the main fi ghts in recent years are held either in Las Vegas or Atlantic City. GS: What other events do you cover for Madison Square Garden? GK: Home basketball games, and all championship games, home and away. The Ringling Brothers Barnum & Bailey Circus, music and rock concerts, and all major events and sports that take place at the Garden. GS: Do you do other work outside the Garden? GK: Yes. I photograph the New York Mets baseball team. I also photograph and put together the programs for them as well as for the Astros, the New Jersey Devils, World Series games, Superbowl games—my involvement with these teams is on my own, outside Madison Square Garden. GS: Are you an employee of the Garden? GK: I am not an employee of the Garden, but have a working relationship with them which includes having an offi ce here, and a contract. I do their photography, put together their programs. GS: How does that work out for you? GK: Wonderfully! I wouldn’t trade this relationship here at the Garden for any photography there is. GS: What makes it so special for you? GK: It’s the variety of events that happen here. GS: What have been some of the most exciting events you photographed here? GK: The Ali/Frazer fi ght in 1971 was the most spectacular sport- ing event, and I was a large part of that event behind the scenes. Sharing that spot is the Pope’s visit. Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 GS: Why is that? GK: I was the only photographer other than the Pope’s offi cial photographer permitted to shoot before the event. The Pope was the most recognizable and most famous person in the world, at that time. This Pope has tremendous “visualization.” There was something very special about being able to pho- tograph him close up, backstage private pictures of him. I’ve photographed a lot of celebrities but never felt this way. Here was a person that the whole world respected. He chose one of my pictures as his favorite picture representing his visit to the United States. George Kalinsky 113
GS: What is your third most exciting photographic event at the Garden? GK: A picture of Willis Reed in the seventh game of the Cham- pionship series, when Willis was walking on to the court. There was such excitement because no one knew before that whether he would be able to play after his injury. Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 This page intentionally left blank Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 14 ART KANE
Photographer’s Forum , September 1988
Art Kane (1925–1995) was well known for his editorial and advertising photogra- phy. He was a photographic illustrator who had the creativity to previsualize con- cepts, the artistic talent to sketch them out, and the photographic ability to deliver the fi nished project to the satisfaction of his clients. Kane’s photography appeared in LIFE, Look, Vogue, Vogue Italia, Stern, GEO, Harper ’ s Bazaar , and numerous other publications. He was especially talented in his photographic images of musicians, and his subjects included Bob Dylan, Frank Zappa, Jim Morrison, Janis Joplin, and the Rolling Stones. Kane studied graphic design and painting at Cooper Union School of Art in New York City, and worked for many years as a graphic designer and art director for both Esquire and Seventeen magazines, the latter being a post he assumed at the astonishing age of 26. He worked there for six years and received awards each year for his art direction. During that period he began to explore photography, and part of his exploration was study with the legendary Alexey Brodovitch at the New School in New York. He turned his passion and eye fully to photography after an assignment for Esquire dealing with the history of jazz. From there, his skills in art direction and his passion Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 for the image launched his career. His photographs are in permanent collections at the Museum of Modern Art and the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City, and numerous other museums and galleries throughout the United States. His fashion and commercial work have a distinct style and approach that earned him praise and honors in both commercial and editorial circles, including the ASMP (American Society of Media Photographers) Lifetime Achievement Award, 1984; the Art Directors Hall of Fame, 1985; and Medals of Excellence Awards from several Art Directors’ Clubs in cities all across the country. Among Kane’s books are The Persuasive Image: How a Portraitist and Story Teller Illuminates Our Changing Culture (1975) and Paper Dolls (1984). The interview was conducted in Kane’s studio in New York City. 116 Art Kane
GRACE SCHAUB: What are the most challenging aspects of your work? ART KANE: It has to do with concepts. I’ve never been particularly interested in just graphics. Having started out in the business as a graphics designer, one would think that would be my strongest interest. But I take my ability to compose a good picture for granted. I enjoy the challenge of being given carte blanche—it could be for ten pages of fur coats or fi ve pages of wristwatches. I like applying my work to industry; that’s what it’s all about. GS: So it’s the process as well as the product? AK: Yes, I like the process, that is, the transformation from a blank page to the fi nished project. It’s theater for me—I like to come up with the script, arrange it, produce it, organize it, and “click” the camera. The “click” part is usually the simplest and least chal- lenging part of the process. GS: Is the biggest challenge the preproduction? AK: Yes, and practically all my editorial work has been preconceived, sketched out, and rendered by me. GS: Does this apply to your advertising photography as well? AK: No, it applies almost entirely to editorial and very rarely to adver- tising. When we speak of the major body of my photography most people know and remember, we are referring to my edito- rial work, although I do an enormous amount of advertising pho- tography. In advertising, art directors exercise much more control because they are responsible to their agencies, and their clients have already approved specifi c ideas. By the time a photographer is called in things are pretty much spelled out. I function more as a renderer to provide the agency with a fi nal product that has been conceived and developed mainly by the agency itself. GS: Do you have some input? AK: Generally very little here in America. It’s easier in Europe. I shouldn’t say that—it depends on the client. If you have a client like Calvin Klein and a relationship like he has with photographer Bruce Weber, it’s different. Obviously, there is a brotherhood there creating a vital and historic advertising campaign that has changed the face of American commercial photography. There are such Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 campaigns where a single photographer is allowed to produce imagery that refl ects his or her personal vision, and it’s mainly in the fashion world. You rarely see it in the automobile or “nuts and bolts” industries. It has to do with economics too, I guess. When the economy is down the advertising gets more and more boring because people are afraid to take chances. But in the fashion world where Calvin Klein and Ralph Lauren are making fortunes and the products are selling rapidly right off the shelves, they can be more fl amboyant and can gamble. Most of the more adventurous images in American advertising are in the fashion world, whereas in France, Italy, and Germany you see it everywhere. Art Kane 117
GS: Do you do much work in Europe? AK: Yes. I go over there to shoot, and many times my clients come here to work with me. It has to do with where the dollar is at any moment in time. Now that the dollar is really low, I fi nd I am doing much more work with Germany because the mark is very strong. I also work in France and Italy. I shoot a lot for Italian Vogue, where I’m given a great deal of editorial freedom. Recently, here in America, I have been given carte blanche by China Machado, the fashion editor for the new magazine, Lear’ s . She was one of the great models and fashion editors of the sixties during the heyday of Vogue and Bazaar and is now pulling in a lot of photographers who worked with her at that time. GS: Do you feel there are a lot of good photographers out there? AK: What’s disturbing is, there are a lot of “good” photographers who are creating good images, and I’m equating “good” with “nice.” A lot of photographers are like robots. They become zombies. If you look in the sourcebooks, of which there are many, it’s hard to fi nd a bad picture. It gives me a tremendous appetite for some- thing terrible or something incredible. In other words, there are no surprises. I’ve always been taught to surprise, and I miss that. It’s not as if we have a wasteland—there are magnifi cent photographers, and many are newcomers who are doing fantastic work. But we have become a culture of abundance where quantity becomes the name of the game. I remember at a certain point in time there was a limited number of cigarette brands one could choose from—famous name brands. Then, almost overnight, the same companies stared coming out with thin cigarettes, light cigarettes, long cigarettes, menthol cigarettes; hard packs, soft packs, etc., etc. I thought, how the hell do they make any money? Aren’t they competing against themselves? Then I realized the whole idea behind the new regime was mass marketing. The idea is that the product is so inexpensive to produce, instead of putting all the profi ts into one basket, why Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 not spread it out? And the cumulative profi ts are enormous. This is happening everywhere—it’s made for video. Newly released fi lms open up, and a few weeks later come out as videos. GS: How does this relate to the photography industry? AK: Mass marketing has to be promoted massively, and massive amounts of images are needed. There is a vulgarity about the enormity of images; it has become abusive. I love photography, but when I turn the pages of most magazines looking for images that satisfy me, I get pissed off because there is no payoff. There are very few images that command my attention. GS: What would you suggest? 118 Art Kane
AK: Slow down. Give me less. GS: But it’s increased business for photographers. AK: Yes, there are greater demands for pictures. You go along with what’s happening; you adjust as long as you have an outlet for what you do. GS: What are some of the projects you are currently working on? AK: I’m working on a personal project for the fi rst time in my life that is black and white, which I’ve never been associated with before. I’m shooting on the streets, in restaurants, bars, and clubs. It’s an essay on what people choose to do with their spare time, or for kicks. GS: How’s it going? AK: I’m building up an impressive body of work. It’s unlike anything I’ve done before. GS: More journalistic? AK: It’s journalism, but personal journalism, along the line of Robert Frank, Garry Winogrand, and William Klein. In a way, it’s kind of an extension of Klein and Winogrand. It’s not staged; it’s all out there. GS: That’s a very different approach from your editorial and advertis- ing work. Are you comfortable with it? AK: Very much so—more than with anything. I shoot so fast, I’m gone before they know it—like lightning. Sometimes I shoot right from the hip. I’m working with a totally automatic cam- era—the Canon T90 with a built-in motor drive. GS: Do you prefer it to your older, less automatic cameras? AK: It has its purposes. I used to hate automatic cameras—to me they represented the beginning of the end. If you live long enough, you go through certain stages and become romantic about cer- tain things. The more experience we have, the more romantic we seem to get. Some of us just cling to the past with such severity we don’t allow anything to happen in the present. You get stub- born and grumpy about certain things, and the new technology becomes, “Damn these new cameras.” GS: But it seems automated cameras changed your mind? AK: Last summer in Sicily I was teaching a workshop, and one of my students had a new and totally automatic camera. He said, “Try Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 it.” I held it and said to myself, “What do I have against this new technology?” I thought about it—Does it really turn me on to cock the shutter with my thumb? Is my idea of paradise to take a light reading with a handheld meter? By the time you’ve taken the reading the light may change anyway. It’s different in the stu- dio where you have a great deal of control. But imagine the free- dom you have when you don’t have to be anything but the “wolf on the prowl,” so to speak. And there’s nothing for you to do but “eat”—you don’t even have to prepare your meal. GS: You see it, and you shoot it? Art Kane 119
AK: I just walk into a crowd and fi nd myself shooting like a boxer throws a punch: “POW.” I really feel like I’m in a boxing arena, and I’m actually assaulting—and it’s all strobe. GS: Direct fl ash? AK: Yeah, right in their eyes. GS: People must love that. AK: Some people get pissed off, and others enjoy it. You get different responses. Some guy might say, “Hey, don’t do that again, Mac,” in which case I don’t. But at other times they’ll say, “What are you doing?” And I’ll tell them, “I’m working on a book” . . . “POW” . . . “POW” . . . “POW” . . . and they’ll say, “Oh, really, can we have . . .” and I say, “Of course,” and continue to shoot . . . “POW” . . . “POW” . . . and before you know it I’ve shot ten pictures of them. It’s amazing, it’s like a dance—it’s choreography. It has produced a new kind of vision for me, totally unpredictable and a total surprise too, because it is unlike my other work. GS: How did you get started in photography? AK: I started as a graphic designer. I studied painting and graphic design at Cooper Union in New York City. That’s all I was inter- ested in. When I graduated I became assistant art director at Esquire , then the art director at Seventeen . I was an art director for eleven years. In 1957, I began fooling around with a camera and studied with Alexey Brodovitch, and that did it. He was my guru, my mentor, and one of the greatest infl uences on my life. He gave me enormous encouragement. In 1959, I took a two-week vacation from my job as an art director at an ad agency to do jazz portraits. The experience was phenomenal, and I quit art directing and began spending all my time taking pictures. GS: Was it a diffi cult decision? AK: A little scary at fi rst because we had two kids, but we worked through it. On the other hand it was easy, because if there is some- thing in there that wants to come out, as I said before, you just open the door. I opened my door, and it became easy. It’s like you don’t even do it—it comes out and says “Thanks a lot,” and you go. Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 I think the best things you do always evolve in the simplest way. If you have to struggle to achieve, then something is wrong. But if it’s there it just wants to be released, and you get the mes- sage. There is something tapping at you, and it was at that point in my life that I said, “I want to take pictures, and a certain kind of pictures,” so it was not very diffi cult. The diffi culty is in maintaining your position, because once you hit the top there is nowhere to go but down. It’s staying up there that becomes an incredible chore. Sometimes, you just have to let go and intentionally drop it, otherwise you’ll go nuts just 120 Art Kane
hanging on to that pinnacle. The ascent is nicer than the descent. I always enjoy that trip rather than the destination. So when you start running out of trips you have to make your own, and right now I’m on another ascent, and it has to do with the photo workshops I’m putting together. GS: What do you feel makes for a good workshop? Do you think teaching technique is important, or do you concentrate more on seeing? AK: The thing I never teach is technique, and I defi nitely don’t teach the way I work, because I think that would be ludicrous. Teaching the way you work is an ego trip. “This is the way I work, and I’ll show you my work, and how you too can do this,” and in fi ve days you expect these students to become miniature versions of yourself. It’s ridiculous. It couldn’t be done in fi ve years. What I do teach, or try to convey, is a certain sense of self-respect. What I try to instill in my students is an awareness of their own worth. I tell them I am not here to teach you, I am here to “bug” you and shake you up if you need it. It all depends on the students; they are all different. I have no tolerance for mediocrity. The most diffi cult thing to deal with is a “good” photographer. Give me a brilliant, inven- tive, budding photographer, or give me somebody with potential who is presently horrible and totally misguided and at the end of the course becomes an incredible photographer. In this way your work as a teacher is really cut out for you. You can enjoy it. GS: Do you like to teach? AK: What I like to do is open doors, that’s all. A lot of people come from either small towns or have small minds and close the doors to their own creativity. Their lives are guided by the way others see and by what is salable. They don’t allow themselves to speak. They never open up those doors and emerge triumphant to fi nd themselves. This is what I really like to do. GS: How do you go about it? AK: I look at their portfolios, and the fi rst thing I do is give an in- depth critique of each one. I ask each student if they really love Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 their work, and if this is what they really love to do. If they love it, and it’s terrible, then I explore it with them. GS: This takes time. AK: And in some cases you have only fi ve days. The fi rst day or two there may be a lot of antagonism, fear, and resentment. But by the fi fth day you have a close family—it’s miraculous. GS: How much can happen in fi ve days? AK: Nothing can happen in fi ve days—all you can do is prepare them for when they walk out and function on their own. I think the func- tion of the instructor in advanced workshops is to prepare students. In a beginners’ workshop there’s enough to do teaching the basics. Art Kane 121
GS: Do you think the creative process can be taught? AK: When it comes to teaching the creative process, I don’t think it can be. Another thing students have to come to grips with is to know what they want to get out of it, and to be prepared to deal with the sum total of who and what they are. GS: What do you mean by that? AK: If you want to be a genius and you’re barely competent you can either spend your whole life being miserable or just do what you do well. If you want to be brilliant (and you can be), but you haven’t allowed yourself the opportunity, then we will explore why you haven’t. GS: Students are attracted to photography workshops and classes for different reasons. AK: It amazes me how few people know what a picture is really all about, and what the phenomena of seeing through a camera is all about. I’ve taught so many classes, and when you get down to it, what the students really want to know and very often never achieve has to do simply with the difference between the layman and the artist. If you’re a layman you can be in a class from now until doomsday and not understand the elements of art and what makes an artist. A layman and an artist can point their cameras at the same scene, and one will create art and the other a snapshot. The difference between the elements of art and non-art is like asking someone without a voice to sing Puccini. So, once you fi nd out who they are, you suggest they give up and go home because it’s hopeless. GS: Do you really tell them that? AK: I tell them the truth. I did a workshop in Florida and one woman left crying. Many of the students who come to these workshops are dentists, doctors, divorcées, and people who are retiring and looking for a new way of living or expressing themselves. Most of them are not artists, and not telling them is doing a great disservice. Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 This page intentionally left blank Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 15 LEWIS KEMPER
Photographer’s Forum , Spring 2008
Lewis Kemper (b. 1954), whose name is synonymous with outdoor and nature pho- tography, has been photographing the natural beauty of North America and its park lands for three decades. Originally from Baltimore, Maryland, he attended George Washington University in Washington, D.C., receiving a BA in fi ne art photography in 1976. Two years after graduating Kemper moved westward to California and settled in Yosemite National Park, where he lived for the next 11 years. From 1978 to 1980, he worked in Yosemite at the Ansel Adams Gallery—an opportunity he welcomed, as it was here he met and learned from some of the most highly regarded photographers of our time. Kemper was recently named to Canon USA’s group of photographers known as “The Explorers of Light.” These photographers represent Canon USA and its pho- tography equipment by leading workshops, giving lectures, and attending seminars throughout the country. Kemper’s work has been featured in national ads and on book covers in over 16 countries around the world. He is represented by several stock agen- cies, including Getty Images, Stock Imagery, DRK Photo, AFLO Japan, and Superstock. His work has been on view nationally in galleries and museums including the Cornell Museum, the Frederick S. Wight Gallery, the Baltimore Museum of Art, the Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 Princeton Gallery of Fine Art, the Popular Photography Gallery, the Ansel Adams Gallery, and the Yosemite Valley Visitor Center. His work is included in many private collections as well as in the permanent collection of the Baltimore Museum of Art. Kemper teaches photography and digital imaging at the Palm Beach Pho- tographic Centre in Delray Beach, Florida, and also leads seminars and work- shops in Photoshop and digital photography in various cities around the country several times each year. He has also taught at the Santa Fe Workshops and at BetterPhoto.com. Kemper maintains an attractive and active website—www.LewisKemper Photography.com—where he displays and sells his images in an online gallery. His 124 Lewis Kemper
outlets there include fi ne art prints, posters, stationery, and books, as well as the availability of licenses for the use of his images for editorial and commercial pur- poses. He is a digital consultant and teaches Photoshop and photography classes for individuals, private and public organizations, as well as businesses, and he has his own line of training DVDs and CDs. Kemper authored The Yosemite Photographer ’s Handbook (1982), The Yellowstone Photographer ’ s Handbook (1983), and later the PhotographingYosemite Digital Field Guide (2010). He was the photographer for Ancient Ancestors of the Southwest, published by Graphic Arts Center Publishing Company (1996). His work has been published in numerous books, including publications by the Sierra Club, the National Geo- graphic Society, Little and Brown, APA Insight Guides, Sequoia Communications, Prentice Hall, Hyperion Books, Companion Press, and Cachuma Press. His pictures have also appeared in numerous calendars and magazines; he is a contributing editor to Outdoor Photographer and PC Photo magazines. In short, he’s a busy man. To get a sense of how all this creative energy has been so well focused, and how he approaches his art and craft, I spoke with him soon after I had been involved with a Canon-sponsored, Kemper-taught photography workshop in Yellowstone National Park.
GRACE SCHAUB: When did you get so involved in photography, nature, and the great outdoors? LEWIS KEMPER: As a kid I was always into the outdoors—catching tadpoles, exploring our neighborhood stream, etc. I began my journey in photography in my senior year in high school and was taking nature pictures right away! And later, as a college student, I began camping and then backpacking, cross-country skiing, a little rock climbing, etc. So my camera came with me! Then after college I worked construction to save up some money, bought a van, and headed west with my cameras. I had no real plan but got lucky and ended up in Yosemite at a time when the Ansel Adams Gal- lery needed a photographer. GS: How did all that work out? I know you have maintained an association with the Yosemite and Yellowstone National Parks for many years now.
Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 LK: I fi rst went to Yosemite and got a job at the Ansel Adams Gallery in 1978. I was just a young kid traveling and photographing my way around the country. I worked in the Gallery until the sum- mer of 1980 and then again in 1984 for about fi ve months. I lived in Yosemite from 1978 until 1989. During my time there I was involved with teaching for the fi rst time. I also had a great oppor- tunity to show and sell my work. The park concessionaire asked to me to write the Yosemite Photographer’ s Handbook, which sold quite well. From there I got invited to write one for Yellowstone. I had been to Yellowstone several times before that photographing, but I went Lewis Kemper 125
for two weeks and traveled all around the park working on the book. I also had good friends in Jackson, Wyoming, so I would go out there in the winter and then go up to Yellowstone to photo- graph. I began leading winter workshops there in the mid eighties and did that for several years. And I always continue to visit there every few years or so. GS: Working at the Ansel Adams Gallery at Yosemite must have been quite an experience for a young photographer. LK: Working at the Gallery was one of the best experiences of my life. Being there for Ansel’s summer workshops was like walking right into my history of photography textbook from college! In fact, even the author of the book was there, Beaumont Newhall. And in my summers at the Gallery I met Ruth Bernhard, Paul Caponigro, Ernst Haas, Marie Cosindas, Jerry Uelsman, and John Sexton, to name just a few. So for a young photography student it was a dream come true. It also led to my fi rst experiences teach- ing in a workshop environment, as I got to co-teach with Philip Hyde, Cole Weston, and Wanda Hammerbeck. I also met my best friend and contemporary, William Neill, while in Yosemite. GS: What were your specifi c responsibilities and duties there, and who were the photographers you admired and learned the most from during your time there? LK: My duties at the Gallery were to run the fi lm/photo counter, check Ansel’s fi ne prints when they arrived, and lead the “cam- era walks” (daily photo tours) in the summer. I was in charge of ordering all the fi lm and photo supplies we sold and making sure all the equipment got ordered for Ansel’s workshops. The best part was leading the camera walks in the summer. GS: And working with Ansel Adams wasn’t too shabby either, right? LK: Well, of course, watching Ansel and seeing how he related to all of his students was great. One of my big “heroes” was Ernst Haas and getting to meet him and listen to him speak was a major thrill for me. I also learned a lot from my short time with Ruth Bernhard, and also from Marion Patterson. And before I ever got to Yosemite I learned so much from my Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 college professor, Jerry Lake. He taught me to see color and how to work with color, and his infl uence has been with me from the beginning. GS: How has this Yosemite association helped you as a photographer and as a teacher? LK: I think it really helped me as a teacher, seeing how all these “famous” people could be so giving to their students. And as a photographer I got to hear so many different approaches to pho- tography that I was able to blend and mesh them into something that eventually became my “style.” And as a young person toying with the idea of becoming a “real” photographer, it sure didn’t 126 Lewis Kemper
hurt when after showing my portfolio to Ruth Bernhard, she looked up at me and said, “You should become a photographer!” GS: Describe your approach to photographing nature. LK: When I approach a subject I like to narrow down what has attracted my eye to a scene. Ansel always carried a little cut out card and would very carefully compose his image through the card. Well I am too lazy (I would lose the card in a minute) to carry the card, but I always make a frame with my hand and try to narrow the scene down to the basic elements that are compelling. And I bracket compositions, shifting and changing to refi ne the shot to get the most impact. GS: What is your approach when photographing the “Classic Icons” in nature, and the anointed “Natural Wonders,” that all tourists journey to the national parks to see and photograph? LK: For all of these, since they have been done so often, I always try to fi nd either a slightly different angle or try to get the best possible light. GS: How about photographing details in nature? LK: This is actually my favorite. I love to make the generic or the small details in nature become strong graphic elements. I also like to abstract nature by isolating and/or removing scale, so the viewer has to think about what they are seeing. GS: What weather and seasons do you prefer to photograph in? LK: When I lived in Yosemite, winter was my favorite season, and I liked it for both pictures and recreation. I love the snow! Now that I live in Sacramento, it is still winter … but because of the fog. GS: Are there other places that are “more photogenic” for you at dif- ferent times of the year? LK: The obvious ones are anywhere back east—The Smokies, Acadia, Shenandoah in the autumn. I like the desert in the spring, the Northwest in later summer, Alaska in summer. As for Yosemite, it’s the best in winter. GS: Any suggestions and advice for students? LK: Be you. Photography, like any art, is so subjective. If you like what Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 you are doing, keep doing it! If you can’t make a living doing the photography you love, get another job, and do your photography for love! In the beginning we all emulate others—take all you can from others, and mold it into what you fi nd works best for you. GS: What attracts you to a scene and makes you want to take that particular picture? LK: I always tell my students—you are only doing two things when taking a picture: capturing light and placing a frame around something that exists. So for me, the fi rst thing I look for is the light. You can be in the most beautiful place on earth, but if the Lewis Kemper 127
light is bad the picture will never excel. But when the light is good, you should be able to fi nd something interesting to put your frame around. GS: Could you tell us how important fi lters, specifi c lenses, a tripod and other equipment are for your work? Specifi c stuff that you fi nd cool … and other stuff you won’t leave home without? LK: Actually, I am not a big equipment nut. For years I only owned two lenses for my 35mm and digital systems, and recently I got a third lens and now I have too many choices! I am a stickler for the tripod, and I carry a big Gitzo carbon fi ber one, probably bigger than I need, but it is a holdover from my 4 x 5 days. I do love my 100–400mm lens, and if I could only carry one lens that would be it. As far as cool goes, I like to play with a Lensbaby, and I just got an STE-2 which allows me to use my fl ash wirelessly, and I really am having fun playing with that light, like putting my fl ash behind leaves. GS: How important is Photoshop or other software for the fi nal visu- alization of your images? LK: Photoshop is essential to me. I used to print Cibachrome (Ilfo- chrome) and spent a lot of time trying to control contrast and color. Now with Photoshop I have ultimate control over the fi nal output of my image. As Ansel always said, “The negative is the score and the print the performance.” I feel my capture is just my starting point, and the print or even the fi nished fi le is the performance. I got into photography because I could not paint. I had a friend in high school that was a good artist and I was so jealous. In my senior year in high school there was a course that offered half the year in an astronomy class and half the year in photogra- phy. I must have liked it because I am a photographer, and I own a telescope! But I was always interested in using the camera as my paintbrush, and Photoshop has really made that a reality. GS: You exhibit your work and sell fi ne art prints. Which papers, inks, and printers work best for your work? LK: At the moment I am using an Epson 7800 printer, although Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 when Canon makes a 24-inch printer with their new technolo- gies I may switch. I use several materials for printing, including Ultra Premium Luster, Hahnemühle’s Fine Art Pearl, and Tor- chon papers. GS: What are some of your latest projects and new favorite places to photograph? LK: My latest photographic project has been an ongoing one to pho- tograph a local nature center here in Sacramento. I realized that since leaving Yosemite I was a hunter/photographer, going on safari for a week here or a week there, hunting the best images. 128 Lewis Kemper
So I decided to fi nd a local project where I could go back time and time again in every season, any time of day, and photograph. Now the Effi e Yeaw Nature Center is not the most spectacularly scenic area by any means, but that makes me work harder and see more creatively, so I think it helps in all aspects of photography. And I have been very busy turning my Photographer’s Toolbox for Photoshop lessons into training DVDs. GS: Congratulations on being selected as a “Canon Explorer of Light.” LK: To me, this was one of the biggest honors of my life. Canon is a great company, and of course they make great cameras, lenses, projectors, etc. To have them select me as one of 76 photogra- phers in the whole country that they want to represent them is totally awesome. GS: What inspires and motivates you? LK: Just the sheer joy and pleasure of being out there in nature. Like the old fi sherman’s saying: “A bad day fi shing is better than a good day at work.” That is how I feel about being out in nature. There are days you go out and you never get a good a picture—the light’s not that good, the conditions don’t work out, and I start to get frustrated. Then I think of all the other things I could have had to do that day, and I get real happy that at least I’m “out there!” Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 16 DAVID MICHAEL KENNEDY
Photographer’s Forum , Spring 2004
In 1986, photographer David Michael Kennedy (b. 1950) and his family traded in the fast-paced, urban hurly-burly of the “Big Apple” for the dusty, laidback western town of Cerrillos, New Mexico. They were in search of a less stressful lifestyle. Kennedy had lived in Manhattan for 18 years and during that time had established himself as a leading commercial photographer. His work received a great deal of attention from art directors, and he won numerous awards, including a Clio Award. His celebrity and editorial portraits were regularly featured in Penthouse, Spin , and Omni maga- zines, to name a few. He photographed extensively for the music and entertainment industries, including CBS Records, photographing their leading recording artists. These stunning portraits and images were featured on posters and album covers. His decision to leave New York and head out West wasn’t made lightly. He felt he had reached a crossroads in his life, and he wanted to take his photography in another direction. Kennedy describes it like this, “I felt as though I had reached a plateau. I was in a very comfortable place, but I had to either climb to another level, or slide down, and I knew I didn’t want to do either.” Kennedy says if he had stayed in New York, the next step up meant moving to a bigger, more elaborate studio, hiring more assistants, getting an agent, and taking on twice as many assignments as Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 before. But that wasn’t what he wanted. “I already had a very busy work schedule and was stressed out and tired,” he explains. “But I always strived to do my best work, whatever the conditions were, because my photography has always meant a lot to me. I realized what was more important to me was not to get more clients or a bigger and better studio, but to create better pictures that were closer to the heart of my photography.” When he fi nally made the decision to leave he left himself a bit of a cushion, knowing that he was sacrifi cing a large chunk of money to make the switch. “I left with enough assignments to last a year,” recalls Kennedy. “And it took about a year until more came my way. 130 David Michael Kennedy
“Most of the work, at that time,” he says, “was location work and involved travel- ing. I was still doing editorial work and shooting album covers, but not really doing anything to keep that part of the business fl ourishing. I had no agent, and I didn’t seek new work out. Whatever assignment came my way I strived to do the best work I could in that particular situation.” He clearly didn’t want to continue the hectic pace he had set for himself in New York out in New Mexico. Other matters awaited him there, some of which were set in motion in New York. “In those fi rst few years in New Mexico, I started doing my own work. I had no gallery representing my work. Assignments were slow, but I would take the location work when it came my way.” And although there were some hard times fi nancially, Kennedy added, on a positive note, that his living expenses were certainly much lower in Cerrillos than in Manhattan. Cerrillos is a small, dusty western town about half way between Santa Fe and Albuquerque. (When you fi rst step into Cerrillos it feels like you’re back in the history of the Old West, with its one main street, old adobe saloon, and general store.) Kennedy has since moved closer to Santa Fe, but while in Cerrillos he became very much a part of that community, even volunteer- ing for the local fi re department. After six years he became the deputy chief. “I had more time, and I started doing my own work,” he says. “The fi rst thing I got into was the landscape. It took me one or two years to understand what I wanted to do photographically in the landscape.” And although Kennedy’s landscapes are powerful, and his cloud images reminiscent of Stieglitz with a western and therefore grander fl air, the work we concentrate on here is his people photography. By 1987, Santa Fe Light Works, a new photography gallery, had opened in Santa Fe. Kennedy brought in a portfolio of work, which led to an exhibition. “Some- thing happened after that fi rst show in Santa Fe,” says Kennedy. “I started getting a lot of publicity. The New Mexican —Santa Fe’s newspaper—had my face on the front page, which embarrassed me. The storyline read something like, ‘Big Celebrity Photographer from New York Moves to Small New Mexican Town, Gives Up Big Career to Live in 100-year-old Adobe.’ And next the Albuquerque Journal published an article on my work, and suddenly my name was all over town.” The Andrew Smith Gallery in Santa Fe has been representing Kennedy ever since.
Gear and Technique Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 Kennedy’s work is done with medium format and large format cameras. His most recent work is with a large format camera and Polaroid 4 x 5 positive/negative fi lm. He uses a handheld, 4 x 5 camera that he says looks like an early Cambo and has mounted a wide angle, 65mm lens that yields fall-off on the edges. It is very much like a point-and-shoot box camera, he says, or photographing with a pinhole camera. “This camera, and this way of photographing, is forcing me not to be a perfec- tionist,” Kennedy says. “The fi lm is fl imsy and scratches easily, and these glitches are part of that medium. Part of the process for me is learning how to accept the defects, and just let it happen. I don’t demand the same perfection that I do in my palladium prints. But the silver prints do have their own inherent beauty. Also, David Michael Kennedy 131
I’ve been working with a Holga and a Zero pinhole camera, and there is a certain amount of serendipity involved. In some cases I don’t know what I am really shoot- ing, and that sort of appeals to me. It’s about letting go. The 4 x 5 camera I am working with now has a Schneider lens and works better for me.” But whatever gear Kennedy uses he sees it all as an exhilarating experience, a creative challenge to go outside the box and push the creative envelope in new directions.
Native American Dancers Kennedy is perhaps most well known for his exquisite images of Native American dancers. They have an intimate appeal and spiritual presence that immediately strike the viewer as something more than a document of a dance. There are good reasons for this. The images surely involve his unique eye and his respect for the people and their culture. But what comes through most in these, and his other photographs, is his personal involvement with the people he photographs, and his sense of com- munion and liaison with the person who later might look at his images. His involvement with the Native American dancers, and subsequent essays and individual photographs, began, oddly enough, because of his work with Penthouse magazine. The magazine’s publisher, Bob Guccione, gave Kennedy the assignment to photograph Leonard Peltier, one of the members of the American Indian Move- ment, who is serving two life sentences in prison. “The involvement with Peltier at Leavenworth, where I did that story, renewed my spiritual awareness and involvement,” Kennedy says. “It showed me that I can do many things with my photography beyond making money. I was just ready to hear all that, I suppose, because ever since I was a kid I felt a kinship to Native American culture.” The portfolios of Native American dancers strike a chord in people who might never have heard of Leonard Peltier or know what the Sun Dance is. While his technique of photographing from a low angle with a medium format camera cre- ates an intimate yet respectful pose, there is something beyond point of view that comes through in each image. His portfolio is enhanced even more by his use of palladium printing techniques. “The clothes the dancers wear are known as ‘regalia’ and not ‘costumes,’ ” Ken- Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 nedy explains. All the photographs of the dancers were made away from public areas so as not to offend any tribe members who might not understand the pur- pose or permissions given Kennedy. “But it was not removing the people from the experience—in fact, they all had a say in what I did and how I did it, and every time I sell one of the prints a percentage of the money goes back to the tribes,” he adds. “My fi rst portfolio of dancers was made with the Northern New Mexico Pueblo people, and then I began to photograph the Lakota people, who live mostly around the Black Hills of South Dakota.” One project Kennedy wished to com- plete was photography of the Sun Dance, a very special ceremony for the Lakota. “I had attended the dance many times but had not photographed it,” he explains. “The 132 David Michael Kennedy
‘Lakota Dance Portfolio,’ as this project came to be called, required the inclusion of the Sun Dance, but I always knew it would take me time to get permission to do that photograph and time to get it right. It took me four years. “One day I was approaching the dance circle, and as I did a man was leaving it. I told the man about the project of photographing the dance I wanted to do and the man agreed.” It turned out that the man was one of the seven Lakota chiefs. “I always go directly to the traditional elders, the medicine men, and the other leaders of the old way for permission, and for guidance on whom to photograph. I believe that respect must be given, and in that way it will be returned.”
The Pine Ridge Series Kennedy’s latest portfolio of black and white images, “Pine Ridge,” looks behind the scenes at the people depicted in his earlier dancer portfolios. The “Dancers” portfolios were made up of elegant, unique, limited edition, warm-toned palladium prints. The “Pine Ridge” series gives a starker impression and is made up of black and white silver images. It is more documentary in approach, showing the often hard reality of Native American life. Kennedy believes that by showing where the dancers come from he reveals the courage, hope, strength, and spirituality of these people. “I’m out to show what they have to deal with on a day-to-day basis,” he says, “and how strong and resilient a people they are. A picture of a trailer might look sad and depressing, but the people there still have time to honor their spirits with ceremonies and sweat lodges. As I look at these prints,” says Kennedy, “I see these people as true survivors, and how they have endured. In a way, after doing the ‘Dancers’ work I felt that I really wanted to photograph and share the other side of Native American life. It is a harsh land—it’s not all regalia, ceremony, and dancing. But despite the hardships, in front of the camera people become transformed and show what a proud people they truly are.” Kennedy’s prime concern when doing portraits is to uncover the uniqueness of the individual. He says, “All people have a special beauty, even when our culture says they don’t. It is my goal to reveal the soul of each individual. My aim is that the viewer of my photographs can actually engage in a dialogue with the person photographed. When the person sitting for a portrait speaks to me with their eyes wide open to the inquiring camera, they create the possibility for a conversation Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 with whomever may examine the photograph in the future. “I am thrilled by the possibility of creating a space in which the subject may reveal himself or herself in an intimate way. Often, it’s their only access to that other person who might see them only in a photograph. I believe that a lot of power exists in this interchange, and I am honored by the trust exhibited by both the sub- jects and viewer engaging in this silent dialogue.” Although he is respected worldwide for his photography and the integrity and quality of his images, Kennedy’s profound sense of the power of the photograph does not affect his picture of himself. “It surprises me that people know me,” he says, “because I am just another photographer making pictures.” 17 DOUGLAS KIRKLAND
Photographer’s Forum , February 1995
Douglas Kirkland (b. 1934) has had a career spanning decades. Early on he appren- ticed with Irving Penn and later, in 1966, worked as a photographer on Stanley Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey. He worked as a photographer on more than 150 fi lms, including the shot of John Travolta’s dance sequence in Saturday Night Fever. Through the 1960s and 1970s he did a variety of fashion, editorial, and celebrity work. He photographed for Look magazine for over 10 years and later worked at LIFE and in the 1980s for Geo magazine. He is perhaps best known for his celebrity portraits, including those of Judy Garland, Elizabeth Taylor, Marlene Dietrich, Bridget Bardot, and others. His por- traits of Marilyn Monroe have become part of her iconography. In his book Icons: Creativity with Camera and Computer (Collins, 1993) he applied digital imaging tech- nology to many of his most popular celebrity portraits and shared his experiences with computer technology. At the time it was a break with tradition and stirred much discussion among photographers and art directors. Although he “worked” his images in the computer environment, he had yet, at the time of this interview, to see any sort of comparable image quality he could get from fi lm. That was to come later, but at the time his early explorations of the new medium and his submitting Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 dye-sublimation prints to magazines for publication were, for a photographer at least, something new and challenging. He foresaw how a photographer’s occupa- tion would soon change in a very profound way. Kirkland has lectured and taught at numerous schools and workshops in the United States and abroad. His picture book James Cameron ’ s Titanic (1997, with author Ed Marsh) was a bestseller. This interview was conducted in San Francisco prior to Kirkland’s presentation at a professional photographic seminar.
GRACE SCHAUB: How has your imagination and approach to photography in the past prepared you for what this new technology can do? 134 Douglas Kirkland
DOUGLAS KIRKLAND: The world of photography is ever changing. I think for a photographer to deny this or ignore it, he or she would defi nitely be left behind in a very serious way. I am part of it though, not because it seems like the smart place to be, but simply because my passions lead me there. It is like having this wonderful vast darkroom available to me. I thrived in the darkroom when I was young, and used all the tools I could get my hands on to create pictures, includ- ing a slide duplicator where I could put one Kodachrome on top of another and photograph them together and create images. But suddenly, with the computer and digital work, I can do more than I have ever been able to do. It is an enor- mous revolution. To me, it is a major stage in the evolution of photography being presented to me. It allows me to carry images to places where my imagination has taken them, but where the tools have not allowed me to go in the past. In fact, I might have the danger, if I wasn’t careful, of being so involved technically that I might lose sight of what I should be doing, which is creating images, whether it is with the camera or with the computer. I intentionally pull myself back technically. I want to embrace it and be familiar with it, but at the same time not allow it to carry me away. I think there is a great danger in the computer fi eld for people to get carried away. GS: Do you use many types of software in your work? DK: I basically use two programs: Adobe Photoshop and Frac- tal Painter. Fractal Painter is a PC program that has certain advantages in that you can move your fi les in and out of Photoshop, and there are certain paper surfaces that you can put in and certain types of brushes and markers that you have available in that program that you don’t have in Photoshop. GS: So you’ve simplifi ed your techniques? DK: What I have done is really committed myself to Photoshop in a very heavy way, and I have no regrets because I want to do Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 the work, rather than play with the computer. It’s a question of my time. I commit my time in a very directional way, and I am able to function well with this one software. Yes, I use Microsoft Word and things like that for writing, but when it comes to computers and imaging I have completely commit- ted myself to these two programs, in particular Photoshop. GS: Do you shoot with a digital camera or with traditional cam- era and fi lm? DK: I haven’t been that pleased with my experiences with digital cameras. Digital cameras to date leave a lot to be desired, Douglas Kirkland 135
in my opinion. With one camera, when you push the shut- ter release, you get a hum rather than a picture. They say you are “waking” the camera up, which means the hard disc is coming out, but that’s hardly the decisive moment, as Cartier-Bresson calls it. For the moment, and this isn’t a permanent situation, fi lm provides a very useful device. I can carry a camera with fi lm in it, and not take a computer. I can have the fi lm processed and then scan it when I need it. You don’t have the advantage of seeing something immediately when you want to, but there is a pro and con to that also. Let’s say I am photographing a celebrity. One of the drawbacks is if that individual suddenly sees that you can look at every picture instantly, they will suddenly get involved with the editing process, and this can interrupt the fl ow of the shoot. GS: How do you output your work? DK: I do LVTs—Light Valve Technology. These are of excellent quality. And, believe it or not, images in magazines have been reproduced from my dye-sublimation prints. These are prints made with the SuperMac Proof Positive Printer. It makes an image 8 1/2 by 11 inches, and they often repro- duce directly from those images. They have been reproduced in magazines all over the world. For exhibitions I would use Iris prints, or go from an LVT to a Cibachrome. In my book Icons , we went directly from digital fi les to separations and print. GS: Do you have another book project for the future? DK: Yes, a book on nudes called Body Language. What I am doing on Body Language is making dye-sublimation prints, and at the time we get to reproduction we will probably go directly from the fi les to separations again. It depends on the printer and the publisher. GS: What new capabilities does computer imaging provide for Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 your imaging style and techniques? DK: The range of my work on the computer goes from minor retouching to highly manipulated images, such as my portrait of Andy Warhol. Some photographers get disturbed by that degree of manipulation. They feel they are not suffi ciently photographic. But I fi nd it invigorating. Why should there have to be a line drawn between illustration and this type of photography? GS: In your book, Icons , you coined a new phrase for these images. DK: Yes, I call them “digigraphs.” 136 Douglas Kirkland
GS: People say that today, if you are a graphic artist, an illustrator, or a photographer—in short, a visual person—and you have the eye, the talent, the imagination, and the skill, it doesn’t seem to matter if it looks more photographic or illustrative. DK: There is a revision of occupational lines. An important con- sideration in all this is the blurring between occupational lines. Recently, I heard about a prepress house that is also very involved in printing, and now they are going into pho- tography with a digital camera, and are cutting off the pho- tographer entirely. So there is a total blur—no retoucher, no photographer. There is a designer and a printer, but they are under one roof. The retouchers’ occupations are being threat- ened, and in certain cases photographers’ livelihoods are also being threatened. I think that another reason it is critical that photographers not bury their heads in the sand is because when they pull their heads out there may be nothing left. I think we have to see ourselves as more than just being able to take pictures. Let’s face it—there are very few people left in the United States, or in most parts of the world today, who have just one job in the course of their lifetime. It is almost unheard of. In the past, that was very highly regarded. You give your devotion, your loyalty to one employer, and the principle was that that one employer would take care of you when you retired. Some of them did, and others didn’t, but that was what America was largely built upon. That has vastly changed. For example, I have been through so many publications: I had been with Look magazine for 11 years, and they went belly-up. Then I went to the original weekly, LIFE maga- zine, for about a year and a half, and they went belly-up. In the early eighties, I worked almost full-time for GEO magazine, a European publication that opened here in the U.S. They too vanished! I have watched other magazines come and go; there are others I worked for off and on that Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 I didn’t mention. I worked for a lot of science magazines in the early eighties— Science 81, Science Digest , and Omni . Omni is still around, but it is a totally different magazine from what it was. In other words, my occupation has been changed, and will continue to change. If photographers aren’t very care- ful and are unwilling to change or to make what they feel is a compromise, they may not have a job. Occasionally, I come upon photographers who are still walking around with a couple of Leicas around their necks and lamenting Douglas Kirkland 137
the fact that it is so diffi cult to make a living with shoot- ing only black and white. Well, it is a great dream, and it was fi ne for Cornell Capa or for his brother Robert, or for Cartier-Bresson to work that way, but it is not here any- more. The world went to color, the ways in which informa- tion is provided—all these things have changed, and you can’t ignore change. If there is a concise way to put it, that is what it really comes down to, because changes will occur whether you acknowledge them or not. GS: What business advantages and disadvantages are there in mar- keting images in digital form? DK: I’ll be very frank with you, digital work has not been highly profi table so far. Someone asked me the other day, “Has your investment in equipment and time paid off?” and I decided I have probably broken even. There’s a small advantage to being able to do my own retouching. I am still exploring and struggling. I have been asked frequently when I am teaching, “How can I make money with digital imaging?” I think you have to edge a little more into the world of the designer if you want to make money. And you can fi nd antagonism if you are not careful, because often the people who have been the purchasers of photography have been art directors and designers, and if you are verging into their domain they often don’t like it. Once again it comes back to what I was talking about earlier—the blur between occupational lines. At the same time, my friend, photographer Pete Turner, had a client say to him, “Don’t put it together, give us elements,” and to him this was very disturbing—shoot this, this, and this, and just send us the images. And Pete has done brilliant composite work through the years. Well, that’s similar to colonial pow- ers saying send us the sugar cane, but don’t send us the sugar, or send us the raw materials to make rubber, and we will make the tires. This was how the colonies were treated, and Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 this is how we are going to be treated as photographers if we slip into just doing that. GS: In your book Icons , how much input did you have in layout and design? DK: I had quite a bit of input. I worked in collaboration very care- fully with the designer, a guy named Nai Chang, and we had a mutual respect for each other, and that’s what made it work. GS: It would seem that you can offer interesting special effects and retouching services to your clients that would eliminate their need to send the work out to service bureaus. 138 Douglas Kirkland
DK: There is a growing inclination for people who hire pho- tographers to ask for special services and effects that can be done on the computer. Strangely, they may pay a service bureau or a prepress house quite generously to do that type of work without question, whereas they are more likely to haggle with photographers over the cost. Instead of paying for these services as they did in the past, they are inclined to pat the photographer on the back and say, “Be a good old boy, and just do it for us,” and not pay for it. That is an increasing and serious problem for photographers. They keep expanding and wanting a little more. It’s price con- sciousness on their behalf, but the photographer can really be the loser if he or she is not careful, because you have to invest your money in equipment and of course your time in learning the process. So that is part of the “new world.” I talk a lot about occupations coming together, and it is also putting more pressure on everybody. This is the nineties—the end of the 20th century type of pressure. And there are lots of pres- sures. There are technological pressures that are very real. I don’t mean to make this negative—that’s not my intention. I enjoy the medium—I love it. At the same time, these are some of the realities to focus on. You have to make sure you are paid for this, or get compensated in some way. I often describe this period as basically being an evolu- tion. We’ve evolved from the Quantel Paint Box, the Scitex, the Hell Machine, and other very high-end machines that were very costly and had documentation that would be ten inches thick. In other words, that was left for the engineers to work, and those were expensive and that was an industry. But it was an industry that is still around to some degree, but it is certainly not growing. Fundamentally, what has hap- pened is that as Photoshop and similar programs have come out, plus the fact that PCs and Macs have gotten better and Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 better, the controls have been brought to the people. GS: Why do you think so much of the computer-generated pho- tography we see today is overdone and just awful? DK: I started making a collection of impossible pictures, where the perspective is all wrong. Sometimes, I think the pho- tographers have been a little irresponsible, and perhaps got- ten a little drunk on the controls, and used too many reds and bright colors, and brought too many images together. I think there is another level of sophistication coming, and I am applying it in my next project. For example, I have a lot Douglas Kirkland 139
of traditional black and white work that is untouched. And, I also have material in the book that has been modifi ed. I would like people who look at the book to forget about the computer and just relate to the images themselves. We never had to talk about what brand of enlarger was used in the darkroom. Why should we have to talk about what type of computer was used? That, to me, is the next level of sophistication. Assume the tools are there, one can learn how to use them, now make the damn thing right. Make it look right. GS: After investing so much money and time in your equipment, how soon do you have to upgrade or add to it? DK: This is a very important question. I am a believer that what- ever you invest in, you are doing it for one of two reasons: for learning, and on the belief and realization that you will make that investment back in the future. And say to yourself, OK, this may not be the computer that I establish myself on, but I am investing this in the learning process. And I don’t think you should ever imagine this will be the only computer you will buy. Don’t say, “Gee, I’m going to spend $10,000 and get the best computer they have, and I’ll be fi xed for life.” That’s not the reality, that is not the way it is at all. I feel if you invest in equipment, and if you want to do it on a business level, it’s very much like the airlines treat a 747. When they buy expensive aircraft like that, they will tell you very clearly it’s their intention to keep it in the air as much as possible. Every hour it sits on the ground it is wasted. In some ways, if you want to work the computer on a practi- cal level, you should keep it working as much as possible. Whether you do it yourself or other people are working on it, keep that ship fl ying because it is going to go out of date, and there will be a superior one coming, and that is something to realize. Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 GS: Are the new electronic media, multimedia, online media, CD-ROMs viable markets now? DK: I don’t think that online is a viable market. There is a CD-ROM being done on my book Icons . I am not overly enthusiastic about CD-ROM. My wife loves it for the kids, and some of the educational things are very good. But the question has been posed, “What’s going to happen along the digital highway?” Are we going to fi nd in 5, 10, or 20 years that maybe we are just punching this out, and whatever we want that is currently on CD-ROM will come across our 140 Douglas Kirkland
cable? This may be an intermediate period. They say the video store may become a thing of the past, that you will be able to call up any movie imaginable by hitting the appropri- ate buttons, and it will be piped in, and you won’t have to go and rent it. And it could be the same with a lot of these other things. GS: It’s interesting to watch the way people learn with interactive CD-ROM, especially children. DK: That is fantastic. It’s wonderful to watch. There are a lot of good things that are coming out of it, but in terms, again, of answering your question, I don’t feel I could make a liv- ing on either of those areas. Not yet. There have been some wonderful CD-ROM books made, but I am not sure any- one has made any money on any of this stuff. There is another thing. I am involved with some people who are making a deal with a company for a CD-ROM, and they said, “We don’t know what any of the rules are. What piece of the action should we be getting?” Then it went to how much have the top money-makers made, and none of them have really made very much money. No indi- viduals are making very much money. One of the concerns is that if everybody is working very cheap right now, what if this really connects? Will it then follow that they will be expected to work cheap in the future, even if it becomes a blockbuster success? Nobody knows. But the reality is, and I have some fairly reliable sources, that the rules have yet to be established. I know the various CDs that have been considered successful, but there are so many things that are currently up in the air. GS: It’s all being invented as we go along the digital highway. DK: That’s right. It’s part of the turbulence that new technology causes. GS: Does the integrating potential of computer and digital imag- ing in publishing demand that photographers of the future be Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 less independent? Will they be forced to work more closely with designers and desktop publishers? DK: That will defi nitely be the case, and that is part of the occu- pational blurring. For years, a large part of photography was based upon photojournalism and journalistic photography. This world is shrinking, at least in magazines, and one’s capability of making a living at it has also shrunk. And if you are going to work in advertising, doing catalogs and that sort of thing, I think you have to feel very comfortable working with designers, and almost become one of them. Douglas Kirkland 141
This was pointed out to me many, many years ago by an art director who had a great infl uence upon me. He said, “What I like about certain photographers is that they don’t just think of getting an image, they think to the next stage, of how this image can be used.” And I think increas- ingly that type of thinking will be expected and required of photographers, as it is today. If a photographer is working commercially, it is more important for him or her to know what stages two, three, and four will be. In other words, to understand the process more completely. Of course, with that comes the danger of violating other people’s domains. I think we will all get closer together, because the technol- ogy allows it. GS: Do photographers coming into the digital world expect designers, computer artists, and desktop publishers to under- stand both the business and imaging values that have been traditional in photography? DK: Do you mean will they respect the traditional world of pho- tography? I think the hallowed world of traditional photog- raphy will be alive as an art form in museums and places like ICP (International Center of Photography) in New York, and in comparable institutions all around the world. But, unfortu- nately, I think photography is becoming more of a functional device in the world of commerce. Again, photographers’ roles are changing. Photographers are being told: “Shoot the ele- ments, we’ll take care of the rest.” Their role is diminished, and it is assumed that the photographer is not a creative person. “Just get it right on fi lm, give us a clean image, and we’ll do the rest.” Therefore, I think if a photographer is to survive in the future he or she must do everything they can to survive in the commercial world, as I do. You must have a knowledge that goes beyond just taking the picture so you can help people on the later stages. You may in some cases have to get involved in actually participating and making changes with the computer. Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 And I think you have to have projects that you care about for yourself. After I fi nish this next book I may do something that’s just black and white. I am starting to move strangely back to black and white for my own work. I think that photographers will have to keep the traditional world alive on their own, but I doubt that many of them will be paid to do it. GS: Can you offer any advice on setting up a digital imaging sta- tion for a photographer to learn on? DK: Well, the Power PC is probably the way to go. Fortunately, the software becomes more open all the time. In other words, 142 Douglas Kirkland
cross-platforming is not uncommon anymore. And the plat- form essentially will all be one in the very near future. It’s interesting that PC Graphics and Video was all so separate from the Mac world, but these again are walls that are going to come down. PC has a whole different signifi cance now to Apple people than it used to. It used to mean Windows, DOS, and now PC to Mac people also means the Power PC, which is the new hot machine, which, of course, IBM is certainly part of. I don’t know why they don’t get their own micro machine out. I am sure there are good reasons, but I wouldn’t have been surprised if they had introduced their systems simultaneously, but for some reason they haven’t. GS: What are the new capabilities that you will look for in a computer? DK: What we will see in computers is more speed, the capability of storing larger amounts of information, larger disc drives, and prices that will go down. GS: Do you think people should wait and buy the next genera- tion of computers? DK: If you want to learn now you need some kind of a computer. This is a good time to buy. But you don’t necessarily have to buy the latest, hottest thing. You can buy a computer that is a couple of years old, and one that is updatable. I do believe that people should learn on some level, and hands-on is very important. You learn so much more if you are living with the machine rather than if you have to go some place to work with it. I think that is the key—you have to live with it. It’s like learning a language. You can go to school to learn a lan- guage, but if you don’t use it, you lose it. And it is the same with this type of work. Usage is key. You don’t need top-end, but you need software and a machine so you can sit down and make the magic hap- pen. You can go to service bureaus and get your pictures scanned—that’s what I did. And then I took my images to Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 service bureaus to get them printed. That’s how I suggest one starts. With minimal investment, but get doing it—get your hands on it. And fi nd the revolution that way. GS: What is the safest way to store your work? DK: I store in the way that is said to be best currently, and that is on the optical disc. I have a Sony Optical Read/Write 625MB 5 1/4" drive. The new ones are double that—they are 1.3Gb. There are also small ones, 3 1/2", that hold 128Mb, and now they are doubling to 256Mb. That’s probably the Douglas Kirkland 143
most reliable storage—optical. With so many of these things we don’t know the fi nal word. I feel safe on optical. GS: Can you give newcomers to computer-digital imaging some advice? DK: Realize the value of learning this, number one! Number two, get your hands on it and do it, and enjoy it; and realize it is an investment and a commitment to your future. If you are a photographer, realize that you have to keep moving, because the photographic fi eld is moving at an incredible velocity right now—that includes the whole design fi eld, publishing, and all media, including television. The game has changed. All of our games are changing, and the best thing you can do is be as up-to-date and cutting edge as you can. That is, if you want to survive in the commercial world. Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 This page intentionally left blank Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 18 ARTHUR LEIPZIG
Photographer’s Forum , November 1993
Arthur Leipzig (b. 1918) is a photographer who brings together sensitivity, con- cern for humanity, and high standards for the craft of photography. His pictures of people are remarkably telling—they refl ect his own decency and respect for those he photographs. He shoots straight, direct, but never forced. The results are classic, fi nely crafted pictures that have a story to tell. He says his photography is his visceral response to the world. He began his career at the Photo League in New York City in 1942. The League was made up of amateur and professional photographers, most of whom were concerned with documenting America during that time. Leipzig studied with Sid Grossman, and later took a workshop there with Paul Strand. Other important infl u- ences in Leipzig’s photography career are W. Eugene Smith, Henri Cartier-Bresson, and his wife Mimi Levin—his rep, whom he acknowledges for her insight and con- tribution as a professional researcher and writer on a number of his photo essays. At the time of this interview Leipzig had been photographing, exhibiting, and publishing his work for over fi ve decades. His work had been seen in hundreds of group and solo exhibitions, beginning with “New Faces” in 1946, at the Museum of Modern Art in New York. In 1955, his pictures were part of Edward Steichen’s Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 landmark exhibition, “The Family of Man.” Over the years his work has been exhibited at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York, San Francisco MoMA, the International Center for Photography in New York City, and the National Gal- lery of Canada in Ottawa. He had also produced several moving photo essays, including “Photographs of Jewish Life around the World,” “Children’s Games,” and his “Mentor Series”—mas- ters in the arts and their students. 146 Arthur Leipzig
From 1942 to 1946 Leipzig was a staff photographer for the newspaper PM . In 1946 he joined the staff at International News Photos (INP), but quit seven months later because he was unwilling to compromise his principles. From 1947 he has worked as a freelance photographer for several major maga- zines, including Fortune , the New York Times Sunday Magazine, LIFE, Natural His- tory, New York Magazine, This Week, Parade, and Look . He has also done commercial work, advertising campaigns, and publications for many large corporations, includ- ing IBM, Ford Foundation, American Cancer Society, American Heart Association, Texaco, U.S. Rubber, AT&T, and others. Leipzig’s photographs are in permanent collections in museums and galleries throughout the world. To list just a few: the Museum of Modern Art in New York; the Brooklyn Museum; Eastman House in Rochester, N.Y.; the National Museum of American Art in Washington, D.C.; the National Portrait Gallery in Washington, D.C.; the Art Institute of Chicago; and the Bibliothèque Nationale in Paris. His work is represented in private collections as well.
GRACE SCHAUB: How did you get involved with teaching photography? ARTHUR LEIPZIG: I was visiting Edward Steichen at the Museum of Modern Art one day, back in the early fi fties, and as usual he asked me how things were going. I happened to be going through a particularly rough time. I wasn’t getting a lot of work, and the money wasn’t coming in for the jobs I had done, and I was feeling very low. He said to me, “Arthur, why don’t you teach? You have all the quali- ties it takes to make a good teacher.” GS: Had teaching entered your mind before that time? AL: I hadn’t considered it up to that point. Steichen wrote me a let- ter of recommendation, which I sent to universities and colleges throughout the country. GS: Was it diffi cult managing a career in photography and teaching at the same time? AL: I didn’t teach full-time until 1968. I have come to realize I was fortunate not to have become a teacher earlier in my career. GS: Why is that? AL: I think, particularly in the arts, it’s very important for people to Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 teach only after they’ve satisfi ed themselves and made their own connection to their art. If you go into teaching just as a means of making a living, I think you’ll regret it, and I think you’ll burn out quickly. I would have been a lousy teacher if I had started teaching in the fi fties. But by the time I got around to teaching full-time, I think I was a damn good teacher. GS: In fact, you’ve received a number of awards for teaching. AL: I love teaching. I always loved the interaction with and the chal- lenges from my students. I learned a lot from my students, and grew from the teaching experience. Arthur Leipzig 147
GS: Let’s talk about your relationship to photography. AL: Photography for me is very personal—exploring people, their humanity and inhumanity. I am concerned about the human condition. I mean on a one-to-one basis between me and people. I photograph an image, and you look at it. Your response to that image means a lot to me—that you responded is important to me. If you don’t, and I’m talking to blank air, I’m not much of a photographer. I have to communicate—you can disagree with me, you can see things differently than I do. That’s OK, just as long as you connect with something that I’m doing. Sometimes people recognize something in my photographs that I was only subconsciously aware of when I shot them. GS: It doesn’t necessarily have to be what you intended to communi- cate? AL: No, it doesn’t. But if you don’t connect with my feelings in some way, then I think I’ve failed. I have an attitude or a point of view, and I hope that comes through in my photography. GS: For example? AL: If I’m attempting to convey compassion for people in my photo- graph, and that feeling doesn’t come up for the viewer, then I’m kidding myself. I don’t care if you see certain things differently than I see them, if the basic idea is clear. GS: Let’s talk about one of your well-known photographs, “Opening Night at the Opera.” AL: “Opening Night at the Opera” expresses a point of view. It is a satirical photograph. It’s my reaction to a certain kind of people. If you look at that photograph and say, “Aren’t these people warm and friendly,” I think I missed the mark somewhere, and I didn’t get across what I was trying to convey. I didn’t do it consciously or intellectually, I responded to these people from my guts. GS: You weren’t looking to take a satirical photograph, you responded emotionally to what was there. AL: And that’s what came out, and that was the point of view I wanted to get across. This doesn’t mean you can’t see many other things Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 in a photograph as well. GS: You have done many photographic essays and projects over the years. Would you talk about your “Mentor Series,” the connec- tion between teacher and student? How did this project come about? AL: This was a series that actually began back in 1955, and I’ve been adding to it ever since. I was sent to Puerto Rico to photograph Pablo Casals. I was immediately taken with the man from that time on, and continued to photograph him until he died. When I reviewed all the photographs I had taken of him, I saw a spe- 148 Arthur Leipzig
cial quality in the pictures of Casals teaching and relating to his students. The relationship between the maestro and his students captured my imagination. It was really something I was ready for, perhaps because I had reached a point in my own life where I felt that giving back was important, and I realized that was true for many other people in the arts and in other fi elds as well. So I began to look for other people for this project. GS: Namely? AL: Marcel Marceau, Pearl Primus, Uta Hagan, Alexander Schnei- der, Jacques d’Ambois, and many others. It is a series I’ve been involved with for some time now. GS: Tell us about PM and your stint as staff photographer there. AL: PM was a newspaper that had a liberal view of the world. It was founded in 1940 by Marshall Field and Ralph Ingersoll. Ingersoll was the newspaperman and Marshall Field was the rich man. They both had the same psychiatrist, who felt they could work together successfully. He introduced them, and they came up with a radically different approach for a newspaper. It was a photographic newspaper, but not your usual tabloid. PM only used good photographs. It could be documentary as well as fi ne art photography as long as it was top-quality work. I joined the photography staff in 1942. Working for PM was a wonderful opportunity. We were given two types of assignments. One, which was rare, had a “must” written across the top of the page and usually had some political signifi cance. For instance, if you were sent to photograph President Roosevelt, you damn well better come back with a picture of President Roosevelt. There was no argument about it. But any assignment that didn’t have that “must” on it gave you the liberty to decide for yourself what and how to shoot that particular assignment. You could develop your own approach and shoot the assignment from a personal point of view, without the fear of recriminations. GS: PM hired you, then, for your own philosophy and point of view. AL: No! PM hired me because they couldn’t afford not to. I’ll tell Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 you why. My fi rst job there was at a desk as an assistant assign- ment editor for $23 a week. But I began immediately to sell them my own photographs. I’d read the papers for news items, do the detective work, and go out and track down stories to photograph. After a short time they were paying me $23 for my desk job and $80 a week for my pictures. So they decided it was cheaper to put me on as a beginning photographer for $40 a week. PM was a great newspaper to work for. They didn’t have a formula for photographers to follow. You had to have a certain Arthur Leipzig 149
proportion of close-up shots, medium shots, and long shots. There was a sense about covering an assignment that meant you had to cover all the angles. GS: Did you fi nd that to be the case at the INP news agency as well? AL: At INP there was a rigid rule—eight close-ups and twelve medium distance shots. GS: What was your experience at that news agency? AL: Working there was a disaster for me. I lasted seven months, and then I quit. They had approached me while I was working for PM . They saw my work and said it was just what they wanted. They said, “We’ll give you free rein to do features for us, which we will sell to our Sunday newspapers around the country.” It sounded good to me. I knew PM was fl oundering at the time so I took them up on their offer, and I realized within one month that it wasn’t the way they said it would be. GS: What happened? AL: They had a system—they would send out researchers who would write up a report on what was there and what was possible to photograph. The photographer would be given this list of picture possibilities and told this is what he could do. GS: Was this too restrictive? AL: The fi rst time I was sent to a company that made props for a theatrical production. According to the researcher’s notes there was an African-American (they said “Negro” then) who worked backstage. They wanted me to get him to roll his eyes at this monster that was there. They thought it would make a good picture! I read it and just ignored it. Nothing was said. The sec- ond time something similar came up, and I ignored it again. But fi nally I was told I wasn’t getting the pictures they wanted. For the next assignment I was sent up to Harlem to photograph an elementary school class. They had worked on a project and had won awards for a job well done, and it was on display. My instructions were very clear. “You are to go up to Harlem. There are a lot of Negroes up there—we don’t sell pictures of Negroes Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 to southern newspapers very well. You are to do the story on the white kids in the class. You’ll have to do some pictures of Negro kids, but do very few, and above all don’t mix white and black in the same picture!” That assignment was my downfall. I shot over 36 4 x 5 negatives—75 percent were either of blacks or blacks and whites together, a few were white, a few Latinos, and a mix in there. I came back to the offi ce, developed the fi lm, looked through the negatives extremely carefully, tossed out any- thing that wasn’t perfect—so there would be no excuse to 150 Arthur Leipzig
hang me on that—and made sure there were the exact num- ber of required close-ups and medium shots. Everything was exactly according to instructions. I turned in the assignment and waited for the bomb to fall. It wasn’t long before I heard my name being called over the loudspeaker, “Leipzig, Mr. P. wants to see you in his offi ce!” As I walked through the main offi ce, everybody was aware some- thing was up. People were telling me not to quit—but I knew I had to do what I had to do. The assignment editor looked at me and said, “God, Leipzig. You know Mr. P. doesn’t like ‘N——s.’ ” After he had challenged me on a series of irrelevant issues, he fi nally picked up the envelope containing the Harlem pho- tographs, threw it down, and said, “This is a lousy job!” “Why,” I asked. “It doesn’t have enough close-ups,” he answered. “Oh, yes it does,” I said. He looked at me and said, “You dirty N——r lover—I can’t sell these pictures to my southern papers!” And so I left. I had to live with myself. I could not misrepresent a story like that. GS: People are important to you in your pictures, aren’t they? AL: In the bulk of my work it’s people and their interactions that are important to me. Although I have done nature and landscape photography and have been involved in other subjects from time to time. GS: What moves you to want to take a photograph of something or someone? AL: I think I could fi nd all kinds of rationalizations, but basically I want to photograph what I want to photograph because I fi nd it moves me, and I have a gut feeling about it. There’s a need to do it. When students ask me what they should photograph, I always say, “Photograph what interests you—photograph only that! Don’t go out and photograph just for photography’s sake! You’ve got to photograph what you feel.” If you go through my photographs you’ll see that my work always parallels what I was involved with as a person. But I wasn’t conscious of this. In fact, Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 the fi rst photo essay I ever did was on children’s street games, and I had young children of my own at that time. Later on I became involved in other things and my pho- tography mirrors those involvements. More recently, I’ve been working on my “Mentor Series.” GS: How did you manage to shoot assignments and have time for your personal projects? AL: Many of my assignments came from ideas generated by me. If there was something I was interested in, I would think of an area for a photo assignment and suggest it to the appropriate Arthur Leipzig 151
publication. As a result I was able to do a lot more work that satisfi ed me personally. That was always an interesting problem. I also looked on each assignment as an opportunity to photograph what excited me and moved me—satisfying the client, but look- ing for my personal pictures as well. GS: And what do you consider as your personal pictures? AL: What interests me in photography is reaching people—this is what it’s all about for me. This is basic for any artist in any fi eld—the artist wants to communicate something. The way the artist chooses to say it is irrelevant. If someone works through the medium of photojournalism that doesn’t mean it is any less or any more than so-called “fi ne art.” Paul Strand is a fi ne artist. He is in a class with Edward Weston and Alfred Stieglitz. But in these people there is the “germ” of what you see in W. Eugene Smith, Mary Ellen Mark, myself, and others. Salgado in my mind is another example of both fi ne art- ist and photojournalist. Henri Cartier-Bresson always backs off from that title. He says he’s a Surrealist. All right, he’s a surrealist, but he’s also a photojournalist. GS: How did you get started in photography? AL: I was predestined to become a photographer. Just kidding! Actu- ally, it was an accident that led me to take my fi rst class in pho- tography. I had been working at a glass factory and was carrying a sheet of plate glass, but when it broke I lost the use of my right hand. I had no clear idea of what I would do, and someone sug- gested I study photography, with the intention of becoming a technician. I signed up for a class at the Photo League in New York, because they were offering classes at a price I could afford. I was unemployed, handicapped, and living on Workman’s Com- pensation at the time. GS: Would you talk about your involvement with the Photo League? AL: I joined in 1942, and my fi rst teacher was Sid Grossman. He was a very imperious guy—demanding and at the same time a fantastic teacher. He had a special quality of inspiring his stu- Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 dents by fi nding and encouraging the best in them and making it sing. Two weeks into that fi rst class I said to myself, “This is what I’ve been waiting for all my life!” I had worked as a truck driver, an offi ce worker, on an assembly line—and now, I had fi nally found myself a career. I saw a whole new world opening up that I had never thought about before. It was a great place to learn. People there were totally involved in their photography, and would sometimes work in the darkroom 24 hours a day. GS: Wasn’t there a political bent to the League? 152 Arthur Leipzig
AL: The League always did socially conscious and concerned photog- raphy, but politics wasn’t a basis. Most photographers there were concerned with photographing the human condition, but oth- ers weren’t. Years later, in the late forties, the Photo League was blacklisted by the House Un-American Activities Committee. At that time, a number of photographers immediately joined to support the League, including many photographers from LIFE magazine—Eugene Smith became the president because he felt so strongly about the issues. GS: Some people consider “people” photography an invasion of the subject’s space. How does a photojournalist or street photogra- pher handle that issue? AL: I think each photographer must judge for himself or herself what constitutes an invasion of privacy. I think it’s a horrible thing to exploit someone during a time of suffering. Some people may say, “It made a great picture, and therefore you are doing some good by bringing attention to a situation that needs attention.” That’s their rationalization. But I wouldn’t do it—I ask permission, or I’m invited to photograph. I don’t feel it’s worth hurting people to get their pictures. GS: Where do you draw the line? AL: That’s a tricky thing, because many students use this issue as an excuse to avoid photographing people. And the excuse is they didn’t want to invade anyone’s privacy. I think, in most cases, most people do not object to being photographed. Most people enjoy it. I think there are certain situations like death or an acci- dent where someone is seriously hurt, and if you’re a newspaper photographer you have to cover it, but if you’re not, you don’t have to, and you don’t have to contribute to the unpleasantness that’s happening already. You don’t have to hurt people. As a photographer, what you are dealing with sounds aggressive—you’re shooting. You have a camera that almost looks like a gun, and there are all kinds of phallic symbols. The point is, if you feel what you’re doing is wrong, then Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 it’s wrong. It’s the way you go into it. If you give off a vibration that’s an invasion of privacy, people will respond to that. For example, if you go up to someone and point your camera in straightforward fashion—no monkey business, with no attempt to steal—nobody is going to object to that, unless of course they really have a problem. If you take your camera and you sneak it out to take a picture without asking or hem-and-haw about it they are going to see that action, and think it’s wrong, and respond in that way. You, as photographer, have to psych your- self into it if you have a problem dealing with people. Arthur Leipzig 153
GS: What is your own personal approach? AL: I examine each situation honestly, and if I am convinced that I am not invading their privacy, I shoot. Usually, I try to become part of the background. I don’t want to interfere. I determined a long time ago that if I stand in one place long enough, and become part of the scene, and there is something more interesting going on, the people there would no longer respond to me. When I photograph, I don’t run around like a paparazzo—I get into a position I want, I look and feel my way, and gradually I begin to shoot, moving slowly, and never calling attention to myself. I become like a fl y on the wall, and it works. I try to become so much a part of what’s there that nobody pays particular atten- tion to me. They know I’m there—I’m introduced—but I’m not sneaking in. I don’t climb ladders, and I’m not banging off fl ashes. GS: Do you have any advice for photography students and teachers? AL: I’ve observed a lot of teachers. There are some teachers who say, “Do as I do—this is the way it’s done.” And there are others who say, “This is what other people have done, now let’s fi nd out what you can do.” Sid Grossman was that kind of teacher, and this is the philosophy I use. If a student showed me a picture very much like one I would have done, I’d say, “Look, Arthur Leipzig exists already. We don’t need another one. You don’t have to go out and photograph like I do. Photograph what you want, what you do, how you feel—fi nd yourself.” Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 This page intentionally left blank Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 19 O. WINSTON LINK
Photographer’s Forum , February 1996
It is through O. Winston Link’s vision, talent, and romantic obsession with steam trains that we have such a splendid photographic record of the age of steam and the life and times of the towns and people who lived along the Norfolk and Western (N&W) Railroad and its right of way. Link (1914–2001) studied civil engineering at the Polytechnic University in Brooklyn, N.Y., where he was an honor student and president of his class. During World War II he worked at Airborne Instruments Laboratory in Long Island, N.Y., and while there Link continued to develop his photographic skills and precision lighting techniques that became so much a part of his later photography. After the war he opened his own photographic studio in New York City, specializing in com- mercial and industrial photography. In 1955 he started his work on the Norfolk and Western, a personal project. This project, which was self-fi nanced, became Link’s best-known work not only for his keen eye and sense of context and content of the railroad images, but also for his signature style of night photography and the elaborate setups he used to create them. He used all the knowledge gained from his professional work and applied it with a precision and sense of daring and imagination that is still admired today. He Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 also made sound recordings of the trains, which have become part of the archive of the age of steam and are available today. Books featuring his work include The Last Steam Railroad in America (1995), Steam, Steel, and Stars: America ’s Last Steam Railroad (1998), and O. Winston Link: Life Along the Line: A Photographic Portrait of America ’ s Last Great Steam Railroad (2012). At the time of the interview Link was an active 80-year-old and still made trips down south several times a year to visit friends he had made during his project. 156 O. Winston Link
GRACE SCHAUB: Your steam railroad photos were obviously a labor of love. What inspired you to start this project? O. WINSTON LINK: We were running out of steam, and I wanted to photograph and document that slice of American life before it disappeared. GS: What story are you telling with these photos? OWL: This is the way many American towns were—the way America was. The railroad was everything to these towns. It was a way of life. People of all ages would wait for the trains to come through just to get a look at the powerful steam engines and to hear the whistles blow. They would wave to the engineer who would signal them as the train passed by. GS: What years did you do that work? OWL: I started photographing the line in 1955 and continued through May of 1960, when they stopped the fi res in the last steam lo- comotives in Williamson, Virginia. GS: Did you need permission for this work? OWL: After the test photography I went to the president of N&W and told him what I wanted to do. He was a very gracious man named R. H. Smith, and he gave me a wide latitude to work on the railroad. All I needed from them was cooperation and permission to work on the railroad to get clearance for what I wanted to photograph. I always let them know what I was going to do and if I needed any help ahead of time. After about a year and a half they gave me a switch key which opened up telephone boxes along the tracks. I could call the dispatcher and fi nd out where the train was that I was waiting for. My photo- graphing didn’t seem to be a problem for them at all. GS: How did you originally fi nd your locations and the vantage points? OWL: First of all, I rode both sides of the train along the whole system, which is about 2500 miles. I made notes of the mile posts, the time, the towns, and everything else that interested me along the line. Later I would drive my car around the areas I marked to check out the locations by foot. It was great fun. GS: How did you prepare before you actually made the photographs? Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 OWL: I always brought a notebook with me on all my photography trips. They are fi lled with my sketches showing how I wanted to illuminate each scene, long before I actually photographed it. I fi rst scouted out locations, jotted down some ideas about vantage points and angles to shoot from, and when I got back home I sketched out how and where I wanted the light to fall. On the next trip down I brought the notebooks along and used the ideas I’d worked on as my guidelines. When I returned to photograph one of these locations I would take measurements so that I could make my calculations to determine exactly at O. Winston Link 157
what distance I should place my fl ash units to achieve the de- sired effect. GS: Why did you prefer to shoot at night? OWL: The simplest answer is that I can control the light. GS: A blank canvas . . . OWL: The sun tells you everything you can do. Shooting at night, I can get spectacular highlights. I can control the light beautifully and get almost anything I want, as long as I have enough fl ash- bulbs and make the calculations to balance everything out. Sometimes I use 4 bulb units, sometimes 14, sometimes 16, sometimes 8 or 3. I might use 2 or 3 units and #0s or #25s, lower power bulbs, and even mask them down to soften the light. All the light sources have to be coordinated so that they don’t throw too much light and unbalance each other. For in- stance, if the f-stop is 16, then a correct exposure will be ob- tained with a #2 bulb at 10 feet. Now, if I don’t want that much light from that particular bulb, I’ll cut it in half by changing the distance by a factor of 1.4, the square root of 2. What I’m doing is multiplying the distance by 1.4 and putting the bulbs 14 feet away. These bulbs do exactly what you tell them to do, and only what you tell them to do. GS: So you are painting with light. OWL: Yes. This is a very precise way of lighting. If you want to cut the light source in thirds, multiply the distance by 1.73—the square root of 3. Knowing the square root is so important here. That’s all you need to know. That, and that light intensity is inversely proportional to the square of the distance, plus calculating all the exposures and guide numbers. GS: Are all your N&W photographs calculated in this fashion? OWL: Every scene and everything in my night photographs is exposed according to this law. For instance, in my photograph “Main Line on Main Street,” taken in North Fork, West Virginia, I fi g- ured out beforehand what I would need to light the scene. I then wanted to add some light in the window on the third fl oor of the building. I probably used a #0 bulb at six feet or so from Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 the man sitting in the window. I adjusted the distance so that this light would match the overall controlling exposure. If you look closely you can see a black cable going up the stairs on the side of the building. It was so dark we didn’t even bother to hide it. It went in the door and into his room, where we set up the fl ash. GS: I’ve heard about the “red box” you designed. OWL: The red box was the power supply that fi red all the fl ashbulbs and cameras at the same time. It used a 76.5-volt battery ca- pacitor circuit for the fl ash power and 30 volts for the shutter 158 O. Winston Link
trippers on the cameras. It was a series circuit. All the fl ashbulbs were wired together so that all the current had to pass through each one, just like old-fashioned Christmas tree lights. I developed this system in early 1956. It was lightweight: that made it possible to constantly test the circuits. Previously I had used a parallel system, but it took a huge amount of power, up to 12 6-volt batteries, and sometimes that wasn’t enough power. I couldn’t test the circuits in the parallel system, therefore I didn’t know if everything was working until after I shot. GS: What kind of fl ashbulbs did you use? OWL: Sylvania #2s, mainly because they had a primer in them that was very reliable. They also had a blue dot in them, and if that dot turned white we’d know the bulb wasn’t any good. I some- times used #3s, which are the giants, but they couldn’t be syn- chronized above 1/50th of a second. GS: Would strobe lighting give similar results today? OWL: No, strobe has a very weak light source. The fl ashbulbs I used threw out a hemisphere of light, while a strobe throws out a cone of light. I haven’t seen any results with electronic fl ash that can compare with what we did. My shots were made instanta- neously. To get suffi cient light with a strobe, 110 volts would have been needed in areas where there often was no electricity at all. GS: Could you talk about the lighting setups you used? How about on the shot of the train beside the Gooseneck Dam on the Maury River? OWL: I took my assistant George Thom, and we spent six days to set up this shot. There were no bridges, and there were no boats. There were only two heavy wires stretched between the two trees over the river that had been put in by a power company years before. The wires were enough to carry us across, one wire for our hands and one for our feet. That’s how we were able to get the lights to the far side and were able to illuminate the embankment below the tracks. To light the dam and waterfall there was solid ground at midstream where I could set up my Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 biggest fl ash unit with 18 #2 fl ashbulbs, which I placed at a point equidistant from every point on the waterfall because the dam was made like an arc or a circle. With this one giant unit I could light up the entire waterfall. I also used a little fi ll light and the lights on the opposite shore to light the train. GS: Did you shoot simultaneously with more than one camera? OWL: I generally made two negatives using two 4 x 5 view cam- eras, which were wired together with all the fl ash units. The two cameras photographed the same scene. Sometimes I would make one vertical and the other horizontal, or use two different O. Winston Link 159
focal lengths, or load one camera with black and white fi lm and the other with color transparency fi lm. I only used color for daylight photographs and black and white for both day and night shooting, although I did make two nights shots in both black and white and color. GS: Did you develop your fi lm immediately after you shot or wait until you returned home? OWL: After I made my picture I would generally develop fi lm right away. I brought a darkroom with me in a U-Haul trailer. At that point there was no Polaroid fi lm. Sometimes we made test ex- posures on fi lm with no trains and developed them immediately. GS: What type of fi lm did you use? OWL: 4 x 5 sheet fi lm. Super Panchro Type B, 100 ASA, Kodak, or Royal Pan 200 ASA. We didn’t have 400 speed fi lm then. GS: And the exposure? OWL: The exposures were pretty much set and determined by the distance the fl ashbulbs were to the subject. There’s always a gov- erning light source that controls the rest of the exposure. GS: It must have been an amazing moment in the dark of night when a steam engine came down the track. Timing must have been critical. OWL: It was fantastic. During the day I set marker lights at the ex- tremities of the picture along the track. One had a horizontal grid and the other a vertical grid so I could tell left from right at night. I could look and see my marker lights, which worked on batteries, and when the headlight of the locomotive reached the right space between the markers I would fi re it. It was not a matter of guesswork, but I had no idea what I would get after that or how the trail of smoke would look. That was by chance, how the wind was blowing, and how hard the engine was working. GS: What about the people in your pictures? Are they real folks who lived in those towns and worked for the railroads, or did you hire models? OWL: I had to round up people to be in my picture but they weren’t Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 models. And I’ve remained friends with many of them over the years and stay in touch with others. But nothing I did was ever staged or costumed. Some people say the pictures are theatrical, but how could I stage the Maury River? GS: Perhaps your most famous shot is “Hot Shot.” In it there’s a young couple sitting in a ’52 Buick convertible watching a movie at a drive-in as the train is barreling through in the background. OWL: The convertible was my car, and I got the couple from Buena Vista, Virginia, nearby. The movie was called Sky Taxi, and I picked that image from one of fi ve that I photographed for the 160 O. Winston Link
screen. You see, when the fl ash went off for the shot everything on the screen was obliterated. The screen was white. What I had to do was take a separate exposure of the images on the screen with the same camera from the same position, but I had to ex- pose the fi lm just for that screen image, and then when I printed I had to print it twice, once for the screen and once for the rest of the picture. GS: What about the engine in that shot? OWL: The engine, #1242, is the most beautiful engine that ever ex- isted. It’s an A Class engine! There are lots of beautiful engines, but this is the prettiest of them all, in the whole world! It was built by the Norfolk & Western in its Roanoke shops in the forties—a great era! GS: Are there any engines in this class remaining today? OWL: There is one, engine #1218. It’s being cosmetically restored down in Birmingham, Alabama. GS: I’ve heard that fans of yours took your book, Steam, Steel, and Stars , down to the areas you shot and have tried to match the locations, and even photograph the places and people there. OWL: I’m told hundreds of people a year go there trying to fi nd my locations and sometimes even the people in my photographs. GS: Do you still go to visit? OWL: I travel down there quite a bit. Now I can look around and enjoy the beauty and the scenery. When I was photographing I was always watching out for photo possibilities. GS: Do you bring a camera with you? OWL: I have a 35mm camera and I’ll take pictures for fun. When I’m in Roanoke I’ll go back and sit by the Montgomery Tunnel. It’s a great spot to sit and wait for trains to come by. If a train comes by I’ll photograph it, even though it’s a diesel. Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 20 SALLY MANN
Photographer’s Forum , February 1992
Sally Mann (b. 1951) has a special affi nity for Lexington, Kentucky where she grew up and has been photographing for over 20 years. Much of her work, done with a large format camera, represents an ongoing project consisting of tender and telling visual documents chronicling everyday occurrences as well as unusual happenings in her family’s life. At the time of this interview her books included Second Sight: The Photographs of Sally Mann (1984) and At Twelve: Portraits of Young Women (1988), the latter being a portfolio of insightful and compelling portraits of adolescent girls for which she was awarded a Guggenheim Fellowship. Mann has received two NEA grants, an AVA/SECCA grant, and the Fergu- son Award from the Friends of Photography. She is well known in the art world and her prints are in high demand. She is in numerous private and public collec- tions, including the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the Museum of Modern Art, the Chrysler Museum, the Corcoran, and the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art. She also exhibits, lectures, and teaches workshops around the country. Her images and projects have received widespread attention and, in some circles, stirred up a good deal of controversy, a subject covered in some depth in the inter- view. Since this article appeared, Mann’s later books include Still Time (1994), What Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 Remains (2003), Immediate Family (2005, 2014), and Deep South (2005). Two docu- mentaries on her life and work, Blood Ties: The Life and Work of Sally Mann (1994) and What Remains: The Life and Work of Sally Mann (2008), both directed by Steve Cantor, were nominated for many awards, including an Academy Award and an Emmy, respectively. While Mann might be best known for photographs of her family, she later explored landscape work, photographing on wet plate collodion glass negatives exposed through the 8 × 10 camera she had used for her previous work. Her book Deep South contains landscapes from this project as well as those made on conven- tional 8 × 10 fi lm. 162 Sally Mann
In 2006 she received an honorary Doctor of Fine Arts degree from the Corco- ran Museum and in 2012 an Honorary Fellowship from the Royal Photographic Society.
GRACE SCHAUB: You seem to be on a roll with your career. SALLY MANN: I guess it’s a roll, but it’s been a long time coming. I see it more as a progression—the work keeps developing. If it wasn’t getting better I wouldn’t feel so good about it. GS: So this is an especially creative and productive time for you? SM: Yes, but I don’t think it will last forever—and that’s every artist’s anxiety. I don’t know if I can maintain this kind of intensity. GS: Do you feel you’re doing your best work now? SM: Yes. I certainly feel I’m doing the best work I can do at this point. I’m absolutely pushing my limits with my latest pictures. I feel it’s important to break new ground. I’m learning not to take the same pictures I’ve taken before. I know I can already take pictures that look like Sally Mann’s pictures. GS: Would you talk more about this? SM: It’s a fi erce internal edit that goes on. I’m also shooting differ- ently. My pictures are far less posed than they had been. The last picture I took in 1990, and my springboard for 1991, is a picture I call “The Perfect Tomato.” It is so spontaneous and so full of life—it’s my dream picture, the perfect picture for me, the pic- ture I aspire to. There’s hardly a damn thing in focus, yet it has a quality to it. I set up my 8 × 10 view camera in a very inauspi- cious situation with everybody moving, and I took a picture that encouraged me. GS: How do you maintain spontaneity with an 8 × 10 view camera? SM: With the 12-year-olds, it took a long time for me to set up my view camera. A lot of them stood there and probably thought, “Who is this crazy woman, and what is she doing with a black cloth and 100-year-old camera?” They relaxed to such an extent because, clearly, I was absolutely harmless and completely unin- timidating. There I was with two or three kids—babies crawling all over the place in dirty diapers. No one could mistake me for Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 a competent professional. GS: What turned your career around? You went from being an un- known to becoming one of the “best art investments,” according to an article in a recent issue in Connoisseur magazine. SM: That was a generous article. I’m still pretty much of an unknown. It’s funny watching a career. I’ve been steadily producing work for over 20 years, so it doesn’t seem so meteoric to me. There are people like me who are out there who work steadily and pas- sionately throughout their careers with no eye for the market. I’d be doing exactly the same thing whether or not I was known. Sally Mann 163
You asked about a turning point. I know this may sound stupid, but it was important for me to get a Guggenheim. It was signifi - cant for me to get recognition from them on their terms. The gallery dealers who represent me would say that my turn- ing point has been gradual and steady. People are buying prints in larger numbers now, and it increases all the time. But if it dried up tomorrow I’d still keep making pictures. My gallery director told me that I’m one of the few photographers who doesn’t respond to the carrot of money. Money is very nice to have, and I’ve al- ways had a certain amount of it, but personally I’m not driven by it. GS: Do you ever consider commercial work? SM: Oh, lord no! Never! I would starve before I did that. I really would. I worked for 10 years as a photographer at a university. The people there were very generous with me, it was a creative job, and I learned something. But when I stopped learning and could afford to, I quit. During those years I always separated what I did for a living and my art. I always had an artistic project going. GS: Did you study photography in school? SM: No, I learned the hard way. People who are technically oriented are really horrifi ed by the way I work with a view camera. Hor- rifi ed! I am a terrible technician. I just get carried away by the image, not the process. The educational part, the coming up part of my career was erratic, but it seems to have worked out OK for me. I started in a very inadequate and faltering way when I was 17, and for all the wrong reasons. My boyfriend at the time was studying photography, and we could get in the darkroom to- gether. That’s the truth—but I hate to go down on paper giving that answer. Soon after, though, I got a lot more serious about photography. GS: You had no formal training? SM: No, but I wish I had, because I feel I wasted 10 years of my life. I’ve been photographing for over 20 years, and I’ve really only taken good pictures in the last dozen years. It could have been Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 accelerated if I’d learned the technical stuff, and if I’d had a basic crash course in aesthetics. I did take two workshops—one for printing. GS: Do you have much of an art background? SM: I grew up with art everywhere. My parents had a fi ne art collec- tion. My father, who was the local country doctor, was a talented man. He had a great eye and a good instinct for art. He created art out of everything and introduced me to photography at a young age. Art was very important to me as a child growing up. GS: How do you promote your work? 164 Sally Mann
SM: Well, after Pfeifer Gallery folded, I went to another New York gallery and asked if they would represent me. The answer was, “No, your work is not for us. It’s too domestic.” Another rejec- tion went something like, “No, I think you’re too immature an artist.” But within a year what happened was sort of nice. The Houk Gallery in Chicago saw all my work and wanted to give me a show. It was very successful, and all of a sudden the people who didn’t want to handle my work now want to. It’s one of those catch-22s—you don’t get an NEA grant until you’ve had an NEA grant. It’s one of those circular kinds of things. I appreci- ated the chance that was taken on me by the galleries before it became obvious that I was going to become a winner and not a problem. A lot of people were scared because the work was controversial. GS: Can you remember the fi rst time you picked up your camera and felt connected, and that you had something important you wanted to express? Was there a pivotal picture for you? SM: When I photograph I get a wonderful feeling of empowerment. I think that’s the feeling you mean, but it can be intimidating at times. GS: Why intimidating? SM: Intimidating in the sense that there’s so much potential there—you can take any picture you want, and it better be good. But getting back to your question, I can’t remember what the pivotal picture was. There are some earlier landscapes with radiat- ing sunlight streaming through a forest, and all that kind of stuff that I thought was important back then. Every year had a little milestone that I thought was an important picture, and I built on that. As I become more sophisticated I realize that the same picture I thought was great the year before is not quite as great to me the next. GS: Are there any sacrifi ces you had to make along the way? SM: Sure, lots of humiliation, frustration, and terrible pictures. Some- times I think my vision may have been accelerated if I didn’t stay in Lexington (Virgina). I do think that a lot of career moves are Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 accelerated by living in New York City, going to the right places, and meeting editors, curators, and gallery owners. GS: Would you talk about the importance of a sense of place in your work? SM: My main commitment in photography early on was to explore the concept of rootedness and to express my love for where I live, which is really still what I’m exploring. I love the town I live in—Lexington, Virginia. We have a farm in the neighbor- ing countryside. It’s very beautiful there. The 30 or so square miles where I live has to be one of the most enchanted places on earth. There is no one who would argue with me—anyone who Sally Mann 165
has visited or lives there would agree. It’s hard to leave a place like this. GS: You’ve raised a number of social issues in your work, particularly with At Twelve, the collection of pictures of 12-year-old girls liv- ing in your home county. SM: Yeah, it’s a little bit political. Anyone who mistakes that book as being prurient in any way is quite wrong. GS: What approach do you use when photographing? SM: It’s sort of a primitive notion of photography. I know what’s not good enough, but I don’t always know what will actually make it until I set it up. I usually know the feelings I want. I go after feelings, and it’s just a question of incorporating something in the picture or moving props around until I accomplish the emotion I want. When it looks like it’s going to come together you can see it—if you get it. It’s trial and error. When photographing my kids I might say, “squint your eyes,” or “give me a feeling,” or “lift your face up.” Sometimes I think it’s the intensity on my side of the camera. I am so weird when I’m taking pictures. It’s almost as if I’m shaking all over. They respond to my passion. With a view camera, if I see what I want in the viewfi nder it’s already too late. I still have to put the fi lm holder in. What I do is focus, then put the fi lm holder in, and ask them to perform and not to move. They can’t move out of the plane of focus I put them in, otherwise they will be out of focus. At the same time I have to get them both rigid and malleable. It’s diffi cult. GS: What makes a photograph exciting for you? SM: I think a picture should put you off a little bit in order to catch your interest. I look for ambiguity in my work. I always like to have a juxtaposition. It has to have something a little peculiar for it to be exciting or interesting for me. It must go beyond the superfi cial level of the image and express a metaphorical power. When looking at photographs I love to be tricked. I love to have my mind work. GS: Are you infl uenced by any particular photographer? Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 SM: What I’m amazed by is how many people really do infl uence me. I learn something from everybody who comes along. The real obvious ones are Diane Arbus and Emmet Gowin, but there are countless others. It’s so eclectic. I don’t like to leave anyone out because I learned from so many people—I’m an inveterate borrower. GS: Can you pass some advice along to our readers? SM: Have confi dence. Allow yourself to take chances. Be willing to make mistakes and try new things. Push beyond your normal level of competency toward a new level of perception. Don’t let your vision become subservient to your technique. Try to value 166 Sally Mann
what you say and the feelings of what you say as much as you do your “ten zones.” That kind of stuff never meant anything to me. One thing I tell my workshop students is that there is no such thing as talent. I don’t think anyone is more or less talented. I think the hardest working, most dogged, and most persistent person is going to get the best pictures. And I’m about as dogged and persistent as a human being could be. I think the more pic- tures you shoot the greater the chances are you’re going to get a good one. Maybe I’m being a little extreme. Sure, there are lots of talented people, but there has to be a happy coincidence of talent and perseverance. GS: Is this part of your “fi re and brimstone” lecture I hear you give your students? SM: I suppose it is. I also want to say how important it is to develop your own aesthetic. Go to museums, galleries, look at pictures, and buy books! Most people haven’t really stretched their visual aesthetics at all. Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 21 MARY ELLEN MARK
Photographer’s Forum , July 1990
Mary Ellen Mark (b. 1940) is one of the world’s leading documentary photogra- phers. Her photographs refl ect her compassion for and deep understanding of her subjects, the disenfranchised and those living on the fringes of society. The camera becomes an important tool in her hands. In her photo essay “Ward 81,” she calls attention to the plight of the mentally ill through her moving and heartfelt portraits of female inmates imprisoned at the Oregon State Mental Hospital. With her highly regarded book Streetwise , and the documentary fi lm of the same name, Mark delves into the personal lives of Seattle’s teenage runaways and street kids with whom she spent hundreds of hours and has developed lasting friendships. For nearly two decades Mark has been traveling to India, a land that continues to be fi lled with enchantment and special meaning for her. It is there she fi rst photographed Mother Teresa in 1980. These pictures document with power and sensitivity the work of one of the world’s great humanitarians. Mark’s work is published regularly in magazines and journals such as LIFE , Roll- ing Stone, National Geographic , the New York Times, Esquire, Paris Match, and the Lon- don Sunday Times. She has been honored with three Robert F. Kennedy Journalism Awards and three fellowships from the National Endowment for the Arts. Before Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 and since this interview she has had her work published in 18 books, including Ward 81 (1979, 2008), Falkland Road: Prostitutes of Bombay (1981, 2008), Streetwise (1992), Indian Circus (1993), Mary Ellen Mark: An American Odyssey, 1963–1999 (2005), and Twins (2005). She has received numerous awards for her work, including the Phillipe Hals- mann Award for Photojournalism (1986), the World Press Photo Award (1988), the Infi nity Award (International Center of Photography, 1997), and the Cornell Capa Award (International Center of Photography, 2001). Mark has always been involved with fi lmmaking and worked as a still photogra- pher on fi lms. She has worked on set for over 100 fi lms, including Alice ’ s Restaurant, 168 Mary Ellen Mark
Catch-22 , and Apocalypse Now, as well as working as a photographer for Look maga- zine on Federico Fellini’s Satyricon . As this book went to press she received the Lifetime Achievement in Photogra- phy Award from the George Eastman House in Rochester, New York.
GRACE SCHAUB: How did your involvement with photography begin? MARY ELLEN MARK: I went to the University of Pennsylvania in Philadelphia where I was a fi ne arts major and studied painting and art his- tory. I didn’t know what I was going to do when I graduated. I didn’t think I was a good enough painter to be a great painter. When I graduated I got an interim job with the city planning commission for a year where I worked as a draftsperson, and I hated it. I applied to graduate school at the University of Pennsylvania, and got a scholarship to attend the Annenberg School of Communications. It was a very creative school. At that time you focused on your major, whether it was writing, fi lmmaking, television production, or photography. It was a perfect school for me. And just on a whim, I think, I decided to study photography! I always loved photographs as a child, and I always looked at books on photography. GS: But you never took photographs? MEM: I took photographs just the way a kid takes photographs—of friends. I always had snapshots of friends in my wallet. I loved taking photographs, and I remember being totally excited to get the prints back from the drugstore. But I never seriously even considered being a photographer. GS: Until that moment. MEM: From the moment I took my very fi rst class in photography there was never a doubt in my mind as to what I wanted to do. I was totally taken with it. I remember the fi rst night sit- ting in class thinking, “Wow, this is amazing.” I remember the fi rst time I ever went out on the street with a camera with the idea that I was going to take pictures. It was the most incred- ible experience. GS: Were there certain photographs you saw in class that keyed
Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 this interest? MEM: I don’t even remember what they were. The teacher at An- nenberg was at that time the art director of Holiday Magazine and a graduate of RIT [Rochester Institute of Technology]. He was an excellent teacher in the sense that he exposed us to all kinds of photography. Although in those days there wasn’t so much fi ne arts photography. There were people like Ansel Adams, but there weren’t the possibilities for fi ne arts photography that there are now. But he showed us Dorothea Lange and Edward Weston, and then he also showed us doc- umentary photographers like Bruce Davidson and Robert Mary Ellen Mark 169
Frank, and also the more commercial photographers that were working in advertising and illustration. So we saw what was being done in photography. GS: Did you know then you wanted to be a documentary photographer? MEM: I knew immediately I wanted to be a documentary photog- rapher. I wanted to photograph people. That’s what I wanted to do, and there was no question in my mind about it. I never thought, “Do I want to do advertising or still life?” Never! I knew exactly what I wanted to do. I remember the fi rst time I went out on the street with a camera. It was amazing just to be able to go out there with a camera and have this contact with people. GS: When did you realize you could make such powerful social statements with your camera? Did you somehow know even before you took the pictures? MEM: I think I always felt I could. I remember when I fi rst started out, dreaming of being able to make strong visual images and of all the possibilities and things I wanted to do. They didn’t come easily at fi rst. It wasn’t like from the moment I picked up a camera I was good. It took time to realize how to use a camera and a lot of work—and an obsession. I sometimes think it was to my advantage that it didn’t come immediately and that I had to work hard to learn how to do it. And I’m still learning. I want to feel that I’m always learning, and that’s why about seven or eight years ago I started using a 120—I used to shoot only in 35mm, and at that time I started shoot- ing with a 2 1/4 camera also. GS: What did that do for you? MEM: I had the feeling I had when I fi rst began to photograph—it was like suddenly being reborn. Learning another format taught me how to be a better 35mm photographer. Going up in format changes many things. GS: Do you prefer one format over the other? MEM: I like them both. They have different uses. I still will always Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 work with 35mm. I think one taught me a lot about the other and vice versa. GS: What are some of the themes in your work that keep coming up? MEM: I think with most artists and writers their life’s work consists of themes that are repeated again and again. It took me a long time to realize that, but now I understand it and relish the idea of working through my obsessions. I see that I’m often returning to themes from the earlier subjects I’ve pho- tographed. I go back to them and photograph them in dif- ferent ways, but the themes are often the same. One of them 170 Mary Ellen Mark
is teenagers. I think that’s an incredible age. Another is men- tal health—that’s something I’ve always been interested in. A third theme of mine is irony—strange juxtapositions—humor and sadness and the ironic nature of life and people. And I guess I’m always interested in, and always will be, in people who I feel are on the fringes of society. GS: Which of your themes are autobiographical? MEM: I think everything is, in a sense. I can’t say. I’m not an analyst and I’ve never been analyzed, but probably part of that is I’m someone who has always felt on the fringe. Therefore, I’m very comfortable with people on the edges of society. I’m less at ease with people who are very rich and famous—I always feel insecure. I like to feel I can be a voice for people who don’t have a voice. That interests me. And I’d like to take pictures of those people that I feel need a voice. That aspect of photography certainly interests me much more than glamour photography. There is a side of being a portrait photographer or a documentary photographer that can offer you a very glamorous life. GS: You could have made that choice. MEM: Yes, for a long time I was working on many fi lms, and that’s a more commercial way of working. But I really feel that at the end of my life—and I hope I work until the very end—I want to be able to look back and say what I’ve done is worthwhile. GS: What attracts you to the people you photograph? MEM: I care about the people I photograph. I’d much rather pho- tograph someone I cared about than someone I didn’t. But there were a few times when I photographed people I didn’t like, and that can also be interesting once in a while. But I defi nitely prefer to photograph people I like. GS: Especially since you go into such great depths with your sto- ries and spend so much time with the people you photograph. MEM: Day after day as their lives unfold it becomes an adventure, sometimes a soap opera. You’re there taking pictures and are part of it in a way. Going back day after day with the street Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 kids in Seattle and fi nding out who Tiny’s with today, who Patti’s going to fi ght, and what the big drama on the street was going to be was an amazing experience for me. You really get caught into it, and get to know the kids very well. GS: How do you approach a story in terms of research, contacts, and networking? MEM: I believe in a lot of research. For example, I did a story on ethnic communities in Australia for National Geographic, and I didn’t really have the time to spend researching. It would have taken months, so I found a researcher in Sidney. I looked for Mary Ellen Mark 171
certain subjects that I was interested in that dealt with ethnic groups and had the researcher research them for me to fi nd out exactly what was happening, and where and when certain events were taking place. When I arrived I had a schedule and something to start with, otherwise I’d have to start from scratch. I like to go to a place, particularly a foreign country, and feel at least I have a handle on the situation. GS: How about with the project you just fi nished working on in India? MEM: With the project I just fi nished, the traveling circuses in India, I hired a woman who did an incredible job for me. She did the research, found out where all the circuses were, and made contact with the owners before I came. She really set things up for me, and when I got there we had a schedule and an itinerary we could follow. It’s important because I don’t want to take the time doing research—I’d rather be taking pictures. But you have to fi nd a great researcher and someone you can trust, and who you know is going to think the way you think. And, of course, you need someone who has a visual sense. GS: What do you want to convey in your work? MEM: I want the pictures to stand on their own. My major concern is strong emotional content. I also want the pictures to be graphically strong and have beautiful light, because I want the pictures to work as a whole—but content is my main criteria. GS: What about technique? MEM: I’ve come to really believe technique is important. If you can bring great technique to a strong documentary photograph it just makes your statement even stronger. GS: Could you talk about your involvement in women’s issues and your work? MEM: I photograph women a lot. I don’t want to be classifi ed, but I am a woman and a photographer. I feel that great photogra- phy is great photography whether it’s male, female, or what- ever. But I think because I am a woman I understand women more. And I guess I like to photograph what I understand, so Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 I have photographed women a lot. I also believe that women are more vulnerable. It’s harder being a woman, and I guess that’s part of what I want to show. I relate well to men, but I feel a real link with women because I understand their plight. GS: Have you run into any problems being a woman photographer? MEM: On the other hand I think it’s easier being a woman, par- ticularly in my fi eld. People are less threatened and more forgiving of women. I think I’m allowed into certain situ- ations that might be more diffi cult for a man. Although I never like to use sexuality as an advantage—it’s something I 172 Mary Ellen Mark
detest, whether it’s men or women who do it. Being a woman photographing on the street, getting into people’s homes, and getting close to families is probably easier. GS: Is it diffi cult breaking into documentary photography? MEM: I think it’s tough breaking into the fi eld in general. But if you do work that’s really good, it will get published because there’s always a place to publish great work. Once you have the completed project you should bring it around and show it to people. You can’t rely on someone else to get you work; you have to motivate yourself. I’ve never sat around waiting for someone else to get me work. There’s always some project I want to do, and I’ll go ahead and do it on my own. GS: What do you stress with your workshop students? MEM: With documentary photography it’s really a process you have to do yourself. I can’t show the students how to do it. I can look at their contacts and tell them what they’re doing wrong, and try to guide them in a direction. But I can’t tell them what to shoot. The fi rst day I look at the students’ work and see where they’re weak and where they’re strong, and then let them individually fi nd their own assignment. I don’t give them the assignment because I think a major part of docu- mentary photography is to motivate yourself—you have to fi nd your own work. Each day I look at their contact sheets and try to get them to improve. The contact sheets show me how they think, frame, and shoot. I want them to learn how to stay with a subject, not to take just two frames and walk away, but to work out how to make a picture. It takes time, and it takes patience. And even if they come out of it at the end of the workshop with one good image I feel that’s some- thing. Then it’s up to them. I just try to guide them to be- come better photographers. Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 22 HANSEL MIETH AND OTTO HAGEL
Photographer’s Forum , November 1994
The photographs in the book The Heart Mountain Story were taken in January 1943, by Hansel Mieth (1909–1998) and her husband Otto Hagel (1909–1973). While there are photographers who distance themselves from their subjects, think- ing that is part of the credo of the “photojournalist,” the photographs of the Heart Mountain Relocation Center were made by two people who, in their own experi- ence, understood just what was at stake. Photographs of compassion such as these are the result of the photographers bringing much more than just camera and fi lm to the assignment; they come from bringing the hand to where the heart is, and communicating a kinship with their subjects. This is what separates them from clinical documentation or distant reportage. Hansel Mieth and Otto Hagel began photographing in the United States in the late 1920s and early 1930s, during the turbulent and socially momentous times of the Great Depression. But the story of this husband and wife team begins when they met as teenagers in the small provincial village of Fellbach, in southwestern Germany. At 15 years of age Hansel was working with a dressmaker, and Otto, also 15, was apprenticing with a clockmaker. From the beginning, Hansel and Otto were drawn to one another as friends and soulmates who shared a curiosity about Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 the world around them. Otto introduced Hansel to the adventure stories of the American author Jack London, and as they grew intellectually together, they began reading and discussing the writings of Dostoyevsky, Gorky, and other great authors who wrote about the dreams and yearnings of people. Otto Hagel was born in Fellbach in 1909 to a working-class family. He was a bright youth with dreams of becoming a composer and a musician. His father had other plans for his son’s future, though, and sent him to a trade school to learn a more practical livelihood. The family had little money to spend on education and were oblivious to their son’s creative talents and intellectual curiosity. Otto also 174 Hansel Mieth and Otto Hagel
worked in the family’s construction business. Hansel recalls seeing Otto sitting on a rooftop putting shingles down with one hand and holding a book in the other, his father shouting at him to get back to work. Hansel Mieth’s parents came to Fellbach in 1910 and opened a general store. When they became fi nancially burdened, they rented out rooms to people passing through town. Her father was outgoing and made friends easily with people from all walks of life, including traveling circus performers, musicians, and gypsies. Hansel was a bright student and had a burning desire to study medicine. These aspirations were squelched at an early age, and she was sent to a trade school. Hansel and Otto shared an inquisitive nature. They also strove to understand the players and the motivations that shaped the major political and social events of the world. Their thirst for knowledge and answers to philosophical, religious, and scientifi c issues led them to break away from the rigid structure of the small town of Fellbach and the predetermined paths their social status had in store for them. Hansel and Otto soon began traveling together throughout Europe as inex- pensively as they could, which meant on foot or on bicycles, seeking adventure, knowledge, and an understanding of other cultures. It was more diffi cult for a young woman to travel in this fashion; therefore, Hansel wore a boy’s cap and masqueraded as Otto’s younger brother. Otto gave her the name Hansel—her real name is Johanna, but the nickname stuck. They had very little money, so Otto brought along his guitar and Hansel sang along to his strumming to earn a few coins to fi nance their explorations. It was on these early trips that the seeds for their future livelihood as photo- journalists would be sown. In their backpacks they carried books to read aloud to one another along the way, a camera, and a “travel book” in which they stated their motives, intentions, and goals. In their book they also described people, experi- ences, and adventures they encountered along the way. Hansel says, “We met people who helped shape history, active people from all walks of life—and we invited them to write in our travel book.” Upon arrival in a new town they looked in a local phone book for the names of artists, musicians, and writers—“People we thought would know a little bit about life and have something to teach us,” says Hansel. “We called them up and told them that we came all the way from Germany and would like to talk with them. Very often they would invite us over for coffee and conversation. Many became our friends. We Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 photographed them and asked them about their beliefs, ideas, and their feelings on how people should treat one another. We invited them to write their points of view in our journal.” This curiosity and experience became the foundation for their life’s work as compassionate and conscientious recorders of their time in history. “We came back to Germany feeling we could make friends with anybody in any country,” says Hansel. “But in Fellbach, we were treated as outcasts. People there said we couldn’t be trusted because we were in contact with foreigners and their foreign ideas.” It was clear that in order to continue to grow intellectually and fulfi ll their own destinies, they must leave Fellbach. None of their writings and photographs remain Hansel Mieth and Otto Hagel 175
from that period. Hansel says that during the Hitler years their families must have done away with their work because it could have been incriminating. In 1928, Otto worked his way over to America as a deckhand on a freighter. He had little if any money, a small rucksack, and no immigration papers, which meant that he entered the United States illegally. He hitchhiked and rode the rails to the West Coast, settling in San Francisco and taking odd jobs to support himself. Hansel followed two years later when her immigration papers were in order and she had accumulated some money. Upon arrival she sold the steamer ticket that was to take her via the Panama Canal to San Francisco, opting instead to travel by car. The old car had no top, but in mid-December she bundled herself up and set out for California to be with Otto. The two met up in San Francisco, where they began the next phase of their life together. The early 1930s were a diffi cult time in America. The depression caused ram- pant unemployment and widespread poverty. Hansel found a job in a sewing fac- tory where she earned $6 a week. When Otto landed a job working on the Wawona Tunnel, they set up camp and lived in a small canvas tent near Yosemite. This was their fi rst home together. After a series of odd jobs, they worked as migratory farm workers traveling up and down the West Coast from Mexico to Canada, picking whatever crops needed harvesting. Hansel and Otto worked and lived with other farm workers and earned enough money to pay for the basic necessities of life. They photographed what they saw and experienced along the way. In the future this body of work would be referred to as “The Great Hunger.” Photographing in the fi elds was a natural extension of their earlier work. They were not photographing for money, as there was no market or outlet for those early pictures. They were documenting what was happening in their lives and in the lives of those around them. Whenever they could save some extra money they bought a few rolls of fi lm and eventually a movie camera. “That’s how we got started,” says Hansel. They photographed with an historical perspective, and their conscious stance was that of morally and socially responsible recorders of what they experienced and witnessed around them. “Otto always said, ‘Look Hansel, we have to photograph all that’s here. We are all in this mess together, and we have to make a record, because sometime in the future there will be people who will want to know how people Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 lived through these times,’ ” Hansel remembers. “I think our fi rst still photographs were made in Sacramento at the city dump—the Hoovervilles—where people lived in shacks,” she continues. This was in 1934–35, when shantytowns were called “Hoovervilles” because they were said to be the result of President Herbert Hoover’s social and economic policies. “We were giving our pictures away. Once in a very great while a picture sold for $2 or $3—sometimes for 50 cents—but most of the time no one had any use for our pictures,” she says. “In 1934 we both witnessed the Cotton Strike. We fi lmed it and later fi lled it out with stills that showed what was happening in San Francisco during that time: 176 Hansel Mieth and Otto Hagel
factories were shut down, cops were beating up on people, and signs reading ‘Kill a Bolshevik,’ were everywhere. While we were editing the fi lm, we decided to call it ‘A Century of Progress,’ after the Chicago World’s Fair title,” Hansel explains. The fi lm is now in the possession of the Wayne State Labor Archives in Michigan and is considered an important historical fi lm documenting the bitter labor struggles in the early 1930s. In 1934, Hansel got a job in San Francisco working on a sewing project for the WPA. When she asked to be considered for that organization’s Art Project, they told her that her photographs were propaganda, not art. A short time later, the director of the Youth and Recreation Project in San Francisco saw her work and hired her to initiate the Photographic Project in the Mission District. The pictures were to be used by the state of California as records of the poor living conditions in the city and as proof that social action was needed. Hansel recalls, “We could work on whatever we wanted within that framework. We did various projects, including the ethnic neighborhoods of San Francisco; ‘Boys on the Road,’ a photographic story about young men traveling on box cars across the country looking for work; and a project on longshoremen.” By that time Hansel and Otto were receiving recognition as photographers, and Time magazine was interested in publishing their work. Time bought their photo- graphs of the waterfront strike and of San Francisco’s Chinatown. In 1936, LIFE magazine heard about Hansel and sent someone to San Francisco to talk with her about working for them. She was hesitant at fi rst, but they assured her that she was the right person for the job. Her fi rst job for LIFE was to open an offi ce in Denver, Colorado. She traveled all over the Midwest on assignment. In 1937, the editors at LIFE asked her to move to New York City and join the staff there. Hansel and Otto headed to the East Coast where they lived for the next several years. Hansel was the second woman, after Margaret Bourke White, to become a staffer on LIFE magazine. Hansel’s work for LIFE included new and important develop- ments in science, politics, economics, and social issues. She covered hundreds of stories all over the country, including yellow fever, birth control, the Menninger Clinic, the U.S. social security system, the U.S. Census, and unwed mothers. During this time Otto was also making a name for himself as a photographer and journal- ist, traveling around the country freelancing for several magazines, including Time , Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 Fortune , and LIFE . In 1941, Hansel requested and received a transfer back to San Francisco. Before they returned to the West Coast, Hansel became a naturalized citizen and married Otto. Shortly after their return, they bought a 468-acre sheep farm in Sonoma County, not far from the ranch of one of their childhood heroes—Jack London. Here they built their own home and farmed the land. Hansel says, “I thought we both could continue working for magazines out here, but that avenue was soon closed off to us and our livelihood was cut off. This was just before America entered the Second World War. Otto was given the status ‘enemy alien’ by the U.S. government because he was born in Germany and was in Hansel Mieth and Otto Hagel 177
this country without papers. It was different for me, because I had papers and I was a citizen. And although Otto had applied for his citizenship papers by this time, he didn’t get them until 1945. We had a very hard time before and during the war. We lived in fear that Otto would be deported to Germany and forced to serve in the Nazi army, even though he was against fascism and totally opposed to Hitler and the Nazi philosophy.” Hansel worked for LIFE magazine out of the San Francisco offi ce, and Otto continued to take on freelance assignments when he could get them. One assign- ment they covered together was the in-depth picture story about the Heart Moun- tain Relocation Center. It was a bitter cold day in January 1943 when Hansel and Otto arrived in north- west Wyoming. The snow was blinding and blowing heavily. Hansel remembers, “It took two people to drive the car: one to steer and the other to clear the ice and snow from the windshield.” Although winters are generally cold and stormy in that part of the country, the winter of 1942–43 was exceptionally rugged. Raging snow storms caused tempera- tures to plummet well below zero for six days straight; it was 28 degrees below zero the day Hansel and Otto arrived. Hansel remembers, “My heart bled for the poor people made to endure those Arctic conditions, just because they were decreed enemies and dangerous. Nothing had prepared them for such a long and bitter winter. The internees were from the West Coast and were used to living and dressing for a much milder climate. I was outraged at seeing them at the mercy of the elements. Mothers worried about their children, bundling them up like mummies.” There were several cases of frostbite reported to the infi rmary. Living conditions were makeshift at best, with the common lavatories located at the other end of the barracks. The internees had to endure the frigid temperatures to get there, as well as to the mess hall and other outbuildings. “The military controlled the internees from the guard towers. Bill and Alice Hosokawa were the fi rst internees we met. The fi rst picture we shot was of them. We liked each other, and they became our unoffi cial guides. With his baby in his arms we walked about looking for pictures. When we reached the barbed-wire fence, Mrs. Hosokawa walked up to it, and I took a picture. A guard with a machine gun waved me off. He told me in a rough voice that it was forbidden to take pic- Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 tures of the guard tower and the fence.” Hansel and Otto were reunited with the Akiya family, who were friends they had known in San Francisco since the mid 1930s. Hansel had photographed the Akiya family on the day of their evacuation in San Francisco, and now had an opportunity to see and talk with them again about their experiences. But any conversations between Hansel and Otto and the internees had to be guarded. “Otto and I, as well as the internees, knew automatically how we must behave,” she remembers. “We were careful with our conversations. We all knew that to keep order in our own house we must depend on each other. We must act relative to the common good, just as the internees showed us by their example. 178 Hansel Mieth and Otto Hagel
Within the camp the internees created committees to keep order, and to never let a grievance reach the boiling point.” This was an important factor in keeping up the strength and morale of the people, and to help them through their ordeal. Hansel felt an immediate kinship with the internees. “The morale of the intern- ees was excellent in spite of their isolation and forcible separation from their homes and belongings. The circumstances were impossible, but everyone helped to make the camp feel as much like a normal life as possible,” she says. “Otto and I both knew how hard it must be for the internees. But we never heard any complaints from them, although we felt they had every right to complain. They told us and told one another that this was not the worst hell they ever lived in. What we all worried about was that if one or two of the internees got out of hand it could lead to a loss of control and possible violence. If there were any dis- turbances or trouble, the internees were talked to by their elders very quickly and quietly until they understood what was at stake. They could be relocated further away from their families to another more strictly guarded camp, which was actually a prison for those internees who would not comply with the orders and regulations set forth in the internment camp. Tule Lake, California, was the location of one such facility where dissidents were arrested and kept as prisoners—not internees,” reports Hansel. “Many Americans were outraged by the action of the United States government, but most of them swallowed their thoughts for fear of being declared un-American. Some acts of violence motivated by racial hatred were committed. Close to home, in Sebastopol, California, a Buddhist temple had been burned,” she remembers. LIFE magazine had to get clearance from the War Department before assigning the Heart Mountain Story. Edward K. Thompson was the picture editor at LIFE at the time and knew both Hansel and Otto, their working methods, and how they handled a story. “He let us work with little or no guidance. We also knew what Ed wanted in a picture story,” Hansel says. Their approach to photographing the story took shape “bit by bit,” she adds. “As we worked with the people, their feelings and behavior mingled with ours.” Hansel’s and Otto’s photographs of Heart Mountain were not published by LIFE during the war. “I think LIFE did not use the Heart Mountain story during the war because of the horrendous war propaganda being directed against the Japa- nese,” says Hansel. Later, LIFE published a few photographs in their history-related Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 Time-Life book series. “The Flag Salute (Plate 27) is the most often published photograph,” she adds. When Hansel fi rst witnessed the Heart Mountain High School fl ag-raising cer- emony, she could not believe what she was seeing. “How could people whose liberties had just been taken away salute the fl ag? This same fl ag was the symbol of liberty. What could they have done? What would I have done in a similar situation? I felt extremely uncomfortable. I wanted to escape the situation. Somebody nudged me and said, ‘It is a requirement that students salute the fl ag every day in a public school.’ I could not ask the students how they felt about saluting the American fl ag. So I just shot the picture.” Hansel Mieth and Otto Hagel 179
Hansel says, “When I looked at the group of pictures, I couldn’t believe this could happen in America—it just couldn’t happen here. I was really scared all the way through the shooting. I was worried that something might rush out of hand, which it actually never did. But that wasn’t my doing. It was all due to the enor- mous morale of the internees. I never saw anything like it. It is not a military morale that I am talking about, but rather a complete self-ruling or self-discipline. It wasn’t a military unit that had anything to do with the order there. Not even the guards—the guards were kind of forgotten after a while. Still they could make life miserable for the internees. Although they didn’t do anything terrifying—they didn’t shoot at them or line them up, but it was terrifying enough to be there for these people.” She adds, “When I look at these pictures now, I feel they are a group of pictures that speak for themselves. And my understanding and love go out to those people who were interned there.” During the early 1950s, Hansel and Otto were blacklisted because they refused to be subjected to questioning by McCarthy’s House Committee on Un-American Activities. They were also held in suspicion because they were against Hitler and his Nazi regime “too early.” This was another diffi cult period in their lives. Assignments weren’t coming to them as regularly as before. They turned more and more to their farm in Sonoma County for what they could grow and produce to support themselves. There were fruit trees and a vegetable garden. They raised cows, chickens, and other animals. In addition, they tended to all the daily chores and heavy ranch work themselves. Otto passed away as the result of a stroke in 1973. His passing was a great loss for Hansel. She continued to live and work on the farm with Georgia Brown, her warm and caring friend. For over 20 years the two women ran the farm themselves—caring for the animals, tending the garden, mending fences, and chop- ping wood. During that time, Hansel spent a lot of time printing in her darkroom, took up painting as another form of expression, and worked on her memoirs. “Throughout our life together, Otto and I always had deep conversations about what was going on in the world, why we are here on earth, and what we could do to be better human beings and make the world a better place for all. With what- ever we could do, whether it was through a photograph, a painting, or an essay, we believed art should be a positive expression that has a use in life for people. For Otto Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 and I, it was never simply art for art’s sake.” As Hansel wrote in an essay on paint- ing, which she took up later in life, “I can only speak of that which I represent. My roots are in the poor, not in the glamorous. I know not how to speak of plenty and riches. My hand is where my heart is.” Editor’s note: This essay was originally titled “Hansel Mieth and Otto Hagel: The Compassionate Eye” and was later used as the foreword to the book The Heart Mountain Story: Photographs of the World War II Internment of Japanese Americans , by Mamoru Inouye with photographs by Hansel Mieth (1997). This page intentionally left blank Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 23 CARL MYDANS
Photographer’s Forum , September 1997
Carl Mydans (1907–2004) was one of the world’s most acclaimed photojournalists. The year of this interview he was celebrating his 90th birthday. In honor of the occasion, SOHO Triad Fine Arts Gallery, located in New York City, held an exhibi- tion featuring over 65 photographs that refl ected the varied and prolifi c nature of Mydans’ career. Exhibited works included those from 1936 and 1937 when he pho- tographed for the U.S. Farm Security Administration (FSA), as well as photographs from his years with LIFE magazine from 1936 until it was no longer published as a weekly in 1972. Mydans was chosen to receive the 1997 Ellis Island Medal of Honor, presented by the National Ethnic Coalition of Organizations (NECO). In the past this award had been given to former U.S. presidents, senators, congressmen, and military heroes. Throughout Mydans’ distinguished career, generations of photojournalists, war correspondents, and students have been infl uenced by his integrity, artistry, and technical ability. Mydans always felt it was important for him to give something back to the fi eld of photojournalism, and at the age of 90 he continued to travel around the world talking with and lecturing to students at colleges and universities. Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 Mydans said on numerous occasions that the stereotype of the reporter as an aloof observer could seldom be applied to him: “I care too deeply about the people and the places I cover.” In the years following the Second World War, Mydans was assigned to cover the occupation of Japan, postwar Britain, the Soviet Union under Khrushchev, the Civil War in China, the Korean War, and the Tet Offensive in Vietnam. He continued to work on assignments for Time magazine and maintained an offi ce in the Time-Life building. It was in this offi ce in New York City where we spoke with him about his career as a photojournalist. 182 Carl Mydans
GRACE SCHAUB: How often do you come in to your offi ce here in the Time-Life building? CARL MYDANS: I’ve cut it back to only one or two days a week now. The rest of my time, while the lord gives me strength, I spend at home writ- ing my memoirs. GS: Would you share something with our readers from your memoirs? CM: Although my memoirs have nothing to do with Time and LIFE , they have everything to do with Time and LIFE , because I spent my whole life working for them. All of my books are about events that happen around me, and my reactions to those events. GS: Are your books primarily photographs? CM: More Than Meets the Eye is a book of text, without pictures. When it fi rst came out there were questions concerning why a photog- rapher would write a book without pictures, even though I stated in its introduction that this book is fi lled with pictures, but not the kind the camera takes. GS: Would you explain this? CM: Sometimes things to be seen are beyond what the camera can record, such as images and feelings that run through one’s mind while taking a picture. GS: Give us an example. CM: In my book I describe the historical moment that took place on the deck of the U.S.S. Missouri when the Japanese foreign minister came toward the surrender table on his wooden leg. The woeful sound of his leg was tapping out his progress to surrender his country—a nation that had never in its history surrendered before. As he approached, my vindictiveness began to disappear and compassion replaced it, even though I had spent two years in Japanese prison camps during the Second World War. It was a heartbreaking scene, and it will never be repeated in history, because the gallantry of surrender has been removed from our society and from our wars. Now, how do I say that in pictures, that which you can say in words? GS: Is looking at the pictures you’ve taken over the years like looking back over your life? Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 CM: When I look at pictures I have taken over the years, I am looking at my life. When a photographer looks at one of his pictures, he is immediately moved back to the circumstances and time when he made that picture. I don’t think a writer or a word-journalist is struck the same way. He might read a page of what he has written years ago and be carried back to the circumstances in which he wrote it, but not in the same way a photographer does when he looks at one of his pictures. Some innermost force rushes into his memory, and he remembers what he was doing and how he felt when he pressed the shutter. Carl Mydans 183
There is a series of pictures: the execution of six young Frenchmen—young boys—who were unfaithful to France dur- ing the War, because they didn’t know what they were doing, and France was torn apart by the Occupation. One of the things these boys did for the Germans was to clean their toilets. This was their unfaithfulness! They were persuaded with better food. I was there during that whole incident, and I’ve never gotten over it. GS: With all the tragedies and horrifi c events you’ve witnessed and photographed throughout your life, you still seem to have a posi- tive outlook on life and an unfaltering belief in humanity. CM: One of the things I would like to say is that my views have been affected greatly by my wife Shelly. That’s the kind of person she is, and much of her thinking has affected me also. GS: Did you and Shelly work as a team? CM: We worked together for years as a team, but not covering the wars. They wouldn’t accredit a woman with a man. I worked alone in the wars, except when there were opportunities. We worked in the Philippines during the Second World War. And that was where we were captured and put into a Japanese prison camp. GS: What were the circumstances surrounding your capture by the Japanese during the Second World War? CM: My wife Shelly and I were photographing in the Philippines be- fore our capture. We were based in China and were sent from China to southeast Asia, because the editors of both Time and LIFE saw there was a possible Japanese attack coming, and they wanted us to do a series of stories on the land that the Japanese might attack. The Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor as well as the Philippines while we were in Manila. The Japanese seized all the Americans. Shelly and I were captured during the fi ghting that was taking place throughout the city. We spent two years in Japanese prison camps: fi rst in Manila, where we were captured, and later moved to a camp in Shanghai. GS: What was it like? CM: It was a trying experience, not because of the Japanese—well, yes, Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 because of the Japanese, because they put us behind barbed-wire and took us away from what we were trained to do, which was to be reporters with our cameras and our notes. The prison camp in Manila was within earshot of the fi ghting that was going on, and there I was, a trained journalist sitting on the grass surrounded by barbed-wire, while the biggest story of my life was taking place—that was what I suffered from most, especially then! Later, we lived through a trying period where they couldn’t feed the prisoners. There was no food for anyone. GS: How did you endure? 184 Carl Mydans
CM: We had two things going for us that gave us strength. One was our youth, and the other is that we were Americans. It is hard to say what that meant to us, but it was part of our strength. We saw this especially when we were prisoners in Shanghai, where there were a lot of refugees who wished they were Americans, and wished they were in prison, because they had nothing outside the prison that would protect them. GS: How do you feel looking back to that time? CM: In time, one adjusts to it, and now I justify those years we were taken out of the war by the Japanese and put in prison camps by thinking that if they hadn’t taken us out of the war, because of our professions, we probably would have been out there working during those horrible years, and perhaps not have survived. I feel we were all victims. The war caught us all and did ter- rible things to us. But I hold no bitterness against the Japanese people, any more than I hold bitterness against the whole period and generation that caught us all in its grip. We were in prison in Manila for almost one year after the Japanese invasion, and then transferred to a prison in Shanghai for another year before being repatriated in a prisoner-of-war exchange and sent home in 1943. GS: What followed for you and Shelly? CM: I was sent on assignment to the war in Europe to cover the battles of Italy at Cassino, Rome, and Florence, and the American-Free French invasion of southern France in August 1944. Shelly re- mained in the United States and wrote a book about our experi- ences as prisoners in the Philippines, entitled The Open City . GS: You’ve covered so many stories relating to war, and have put your life on the line for your work many times. How does one overcome fear? CM: I think as far as war is concerned, although I did have a choice not to continue covering war stories after I was released from prison camp and sent home, I would have been drafted into the army anyway. And then there is another thing about actively working with Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 cameras under diffi cult circumstances. And that is, as silly as it may sound, the photographer feels he has protection. The cam- era he holds in front of him is his protection. As ridiculous as it sounds, there is a feeling that behind the camera there is some protection. GS: You’ve probably been asked a million times why you covered so many war stories. CM: Yes, and my answer is always the same: I am a photojournalist, and I spend my life covering what is happening around us, when it is happening around us. I didn’t choose those war years, but what I did choose was to be a photojournalist, and as a photojournalist I Carl Mydans 185
was involved with those years, and wars were what were happen- ing in my time. GS: It’s only fair to say that you covered a lot of stories unrelated to wartime as well. CM: Yes I have, but one of the problems in the publishing world is that many of us as journalists—particularly photojournalists—get labeled in their work, and become associated with a group of pictures or even one particular image. Why, for instance, when people think of Eddie Adams, do they only think of one pic- ture: the shooting of the Viet Cong in Saigon? Why, when editors want to publish a photograph by Joe Rosenthal, is it always “The Raising of the Flag in Saravachi”? And, with me, it’s the picture I took of “General McArthur Coming Ashore at Luzon.” I’ve made hundreds of other pictures, many of which are no- table, but when people think of me they tend to think of that one picture. GS: What advice do you have for those who want to break into the fi eld of photojournalism? CM: When I’m speaking to young people at colleges and universities who are interested in photojournalism, they often ask me what they can expect. I roughly say very much the same thing to all of them, which is, “If you’re interested in spending your life taking pictures and telling stories with your camera, it will be a fun way to spend your life. But if you do, don’t go into the fi eld with the thought that you will make a lot of money as a photojournalist. If you are interested in photojournalism you are interested in a revolution in communications. The revolution concerns the use of still cameras and the newsreel camera that will never be un- done, despite the enormous changes in communications today.” GS: What period of time in your career was the most memorable? CM: Maybe the best years of my life go back to when I was with the Farm Security Administration (FSA). In the 1930s, the United States government, through the FSA, devoted itself to a team of photographers who went out across the country photographing the evils of the Depression years. There is no other government Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 in the world that I know of that hired a group of photographers and sent them out to show its citizens how bad conditions were. GS: How did working with the FSA and Roy Stryker affect your life and your work? CM: The FSA affected my life profoundly. So profoundly that it still affects me. I’m a New Englander. I was born in Massachusetts and raised in Massachusetts and New Hampshire. I went to college there, and had never been west of the Hudson River until the FSA hired me, and I went across the country. I didn’t really know what America was before that trip. It was when I was with the FSA that I fell in love with America. Pictures that I have made 186 Carl Mydans
around the world ever since are affected by what I saw and felt during those years. GS: I think all photographers, especially those in photojournalism and documentary photography, should study the body of work made by the FSA photographers under Roy Stryker during the 1930s. CM: Yes, indeed! And luck plays such a strong part in one’s life and in a country’s life. Why by all means was a person like Roy Stryker chosen to create the FSA? It was chance! It was luck! Any other person might have gotten the job and couldn’t or wouldn’t have done it the way Roy Stryker did. Roy Stryker was a great person, and his existence continues to affect all of us. When Roy Stryker was very young he became interested in pictures. He was an economist and an historian, and he dreamed when he was very young that some day he would do a picture book about America. He never did, but he made America his picture book with his photographers. GS: Did he take pictures? CM: He wasn’t a photographer. He couldn’t have made a picture if he needed to, but he knew pictures. He knew the impact and the force of a picture. He had a sense of the picture telling his- tory, and he turned all his photographers out with that theme in mind. Those of us who went on from the FSA to work for other agencies or publications carried that theme with us. And the early years of LIFE magazine were the early years of documentary pictures in this country. They did things differently in later years. GS: What was your approach in those early years? CM: We were taught to do it in sequence. I fi rst learned to do pictures in sequence from Roy Stryker, and later when I joined LIFE . There is always a key picture in a sequence of pictures. The key picture might be looked upon as what photographers used to do. Before the FSA, and the early years at LIFE , photographers would go out with their Speed Graphics, two plates, and a plate holder. They had two shots; that was it. At LIFE magazine and at the FSA, we shot a sequence of pictures. One of the things Roy Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 Stryker would say is, “We’re giving you a lot of fi lm, don’t hold back! Use it up—shoot!” In the earliest days at LIFE the term “the one, two, three” was used by the editors. They’d say, “Let’s do this in a one, two, three,” and it meant they wanted a sequence. GS: This is how you developed your story. CM: The story developed as the mind and eye of the photographer looked around and saw a continuing story. GS: You were with LIFE magazine right from its inception, weren’t you? CM: I left the FSA in 1936 and joined a new project created in Amer- ica, known as “Project X,” which later became LIFE magazine. Carl Mydans 187
Over the years I began working with Time magazine—it’s all in the family. I’m with Time now. GS: What was it like working as a photographer for LIFE magazine in its early years? CM: It was an active weekly magazine. When I joined LIFE magazine it was something new, and there was a feeling we could go in any direction, and that was one of the strengths of the magazine. GS: Do you feel there are major differences between today’s photo- journalists and those of the 1930s? CM: Basically there is no difference. The photojournalists of today have the same goal we had back then, which is to catch on fi lm things that are happening before them and create a visual history. There may be new equipment and fi lm, and that might make only the slightest difference in the way they work. But basically the photojournalists in my day and the photojournalists of today are looking for the same thing. GS: What about the term and reality of “photo opportunities”? CM: These days there are more photojournalists, surrounded by other photojournalists with both video and still cameras. In my day, I never had that problem. When I did my years of stories, there weren’t 30 others hanging over my shoulder trying to make a different picture and trying to grab something before I did. I’ve been blessed in the years that I was actively a photojournalist in that there were a limited number of us. The greater the number at an event, the more you change the picture and the circum- stances of your getting the picture. Their very presence changes the picture. GS: Do you think there is more censorship by news magazines nowadays? CM: I’m not sure of that—maybe the difference is in degrees. I’m not sure that in my early days those publishers who were also sup- ported by advertisers didn’t look at a picture and say, “What’s this going to do to our income?” That confl ict between seeing and publishing and income will always be a problem. GS: Are your picture archives here at Time-Life? Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 CM: Most of my life as a photographer my pictures have belonged to somebody else. In my beginning years my negatives belonged to the government under the auspices of the Farm Security Admin- istration. I joined LIFE magazine in 1936, and since that time most of my pictures and negatives belong to LIFE . When I left my active status with LIFE and went with Time magazine—from that moment on whatever I photographed and was not published belonged to me. And in the end, everything I have made will revert to Time, Inc. Other photographers have done other things with their work, but I’m perfectly happy to leave mine with 188 Carl Mydans
Time, Inc. I see nothing better than to leave them here where they will be well taken care of. They have the staff to catalog and fi le work, and the proper temperature controls and air con- ditioning to protect it. I no longer want to go through looking for things—however I still do to some extent, because I do have some negatives and prints at home, but I fi nd it exhausting. I would prefer to spend my time with what I’m presently involved with rather than looking up something I’ve already done. GS: It sounds like a good arrangement for you. CM: Yes. Eisie [Alfred Eisenstadt], who I think has one of the best col- lections in the world—he’s such a genius—willed everything to Time, Inc. GS: This may be diffi cult to answer. What do you consider your most meaningful body of work? CM: My very fi rst period, when I was photographing with the FSA. As I said earlier, before that, I didn’t know what America really was. I learned who the people were, what they thought, what they did, what they read, and what they cooked and ate. There are some things that come back to me, and when I see a farmer tilling his rice in Asia, there’s something about that Asian farmer that carries me back to our own American farmers in 1936. In a word, that experience I had working with the FSA, in 1936 and 1937, gave me a greater feeling for America, and from that a greater feeling for the people of the world. Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 24 WILLIAM NEILL
Photographer’s Forum , February 1992
William Neill (b. 1954) is a photographer who specializes in the natural landscape, and for the past 15 years he has had his home base in Yosemite National Park. His fi ne prints are represented by the Ansel Adams Gallery in Yosemite and nationally by The Nature Company. Neill has had his worked published in National Geographic Special Publications, Conde Nast Traveler, Gentlemen ’ s Quarterly, Vogue, Sierra , and Out- side magazines. His work was used to illustrate The Sense of Wonder , written by Rachel Carson in 1965 and published in a new edition by Yolla Bolly Press for The Nature Company (1990), and John Fowles’ The Tree (1994). Other books include By Nature ’s Design (1993), Yosemite: The Promise of Wilderness (1994), and Landscapes of the Spirit (1997). His work has been exhibited in the Museum of Fine Arts Boston, the Santa Barbara Museum of Art, the Vernon Collection, and the Polaroid Collection. In 1995 he received the Sierra Club’s Ansel Adams Award for conservation photography. Neill has taught in workshops throughout the country, including the Ansel Adams Gallery, the Friends of Photography, Anderson Ranch Art Center, the National Audubon Society, Palm Beach Photographic Workshops, Overseas Adven- ture Travel, and Sierra Photographic Workshops, as well as in China, Nepal, and Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 India. Neill draws spiritual sustenance from the process of photographing in wild places. He says the time spent in those locales is often more rewarding than the end product, the photographs themselves. Through his photography, he hopes to communicate his deep appreciation of nature to others, and to share his experi- ences so that these wilderness regions of pristine beauty and natural splendor will be as important to others as they are to him. Neill feels that we need to develop a new and enlightened stewardship of our earth where the land and mankind are not considered separately. 190 William Neill
GRACE SCHAUB: How did you get involved in landscape photography? WILLIAM NEILL: I was studying for a degree in environmental conservation at the University of Colorado in Boulder. I was taking classes in mountain ecology and that sort of thing. My summers were spent backpacking in the national parks. My mother had given me a camera when I went away to school, and it seemed like a natural thing to take along. I wanted to document what I was seeing and what was exciting to me. Photography didn’t start out as my ultimate goal. After a couple of summers backpacking and pho- tographing nature, the activity of photography itself grew to be more important than backpacking. GS: Many people dream of making a living as a nature photographer. How did you make this happen? WN: I came to Yosemite in 1977 as an employee of the National Parks Service, and in 1980 I was hired as a photographer here at the Ansel Adams Gallery. GS: So your fi rst experience as a photographer was at the Ansel Adams Gallery? WN: Yes, but this job included other responsibilities. I was showing Ansel’s prints, hanging exhibits, and ordering and stocking pho- tography books and supplies. I met Ansel and many other inno- vative photographers, including Paul Caponigro, Ernst Haas, and Jerry Uelsmann. It was my training ground in photography. I also taught there. GS: What did you teach? WN: I was teaching visitors how to get better pictures of the scenery here. I would take small groups out in the Yosemite Valley and give them “hot tips.” GS: What format do you shoot? WN: I photograph mostly with a 4 × 5 view camera. I enjoy the fi ne detail, control of composition, and contemplative approach al- lowed by the larger format. GS: Is it hard lugging all that equipment around? WN: It’s a little extra weight but not that much more. With as many lenses as most 35mm shooters take along, it gets up to the same Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 weight as my gear does very quickly. I pretty much operate with a 4 × 5 camera, two lenses, a spot meter, and some fi lm. It’s not like I’m hauling a studio with me. I put my 4 × 5 on a tripod and haul it over my shoulder. I don’t really go as far off the road as many wilderness photographers do. I’ve done that in the past, but mostly I go on day hikes, and it’s not that big a problem. I keep things as simple as possible. GS: Many nature photographers shoot only in the early morning and late afternoon light. Is this so for you? WN: I don’t have any rules I lock into. I like fl at light and early morn- ing and late afternoon light like most photographers do. But it depends on the weather and the season. In Yosemite, half the William Neill 191
valley is in shade most of the winter. I tend to favor soft lighting conditions—after a rain, diffuse light in the shade of a cliff, or the shade of a tree. I don’t usually photograph during the middle of the day, but I don’t stop looking. You can often fi nd good things at that time as well. Many people coming to photograph in Yo- semite tend to believe that light is good early and late in the day, and they made shooting at those times a rigid rule. I don’t believe that locking into rules is a good way to be creative. GS: How do you promote and market your work? WN: I market my work mostly through direct mail. I write query letters to magazines, book publishers, and calendar companies whose products seem to match my photographic approach. GS: Can you earn a living doing just nature and landscape photography? WN: Yes. My income comes from diverse sources. I sell my fi ne art prints in limited editions. I have two main outlets, one is here in Yosemite, at the Ansel Adams Gallery, and the other through The Nature Company, which has 70 outlets around the country. Another source of income for me is stock photography, which includes advertising, record covers, annual report covers, and a lot of nature-oriented publications such as magazines and cal- endar companies. The balance of my income is from teaching workshops. GS: It sounds like a well-balanced work schedule. WN: It shifts from year to year as to how I earn money. Right now I’m concentrating more on the commercial market. In fact, I’m tak- ing out an ad in American Showcase. I found that there is a demand in advertising for environmental images. On that front, one of the biggest pushes for my career was a feature article of my work in Communication Arts magazine in 1988. That opened some new doors for me. I got a lot of calls for work, some good stock sales, a poster series contract, and advertising sales. GS: Do you have advice for photographers who are just starting out? WN: Yes, photograph something you feel very strongly about, because the emotion and feeling behind what you do makes great work. It’s more than just a visual exercise—that approach doesn’t lead Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 to the most profound work. It’s important in the beginning to try to isolate yourself from market pressures so you don’t have to worry too much about making photographs because you think they’ll sell. After college, my job at the Ansel Adams Gallery allowed me that freedom. I worked there for almost fi ve years, had a pay- check coming in, and didn’t have to worry about whether or not my photographs sold. This freedom enabled me to take the time to develop a style and to photograph exactly what I wanted to photograph. As Joseph Campbell said, “Follow your bliss.” I think when you’re young you have to do this while you can. GS: Can you still do that to some extent? 192 William Neill
WN: Oh yes, defi nitely. GS: It hasn’t changed? WN: Certainly, to some extent. I’ve been freelancing for about seven years now, and it does change things somewhat. I have work published that I put in the category of “commercial” nature photography—somewhat generic images of Yosemite, for exam- ple, that I love to take, and take in the best light and with the fi nest composition that I can make. But so many other photographers have stood in that same spot, and it’s diffi cult to transcend them. I try to control where those images are going to be seen. GS: Do you feel artists have to know the difference between their art and what goes in the marketplace? WN: Yes, and what they want to be known for also. Those more generic images I’m referring to I market to calendar companies, which are the perfect and practical outlets for that type of work. But it’s not often my most personal work. There are other places such as magazines where I try to show my more personal portfolios. When bringing your work around I think it’s important to include a portfolio of personal images to show you’ve developed your own style. Clients may want to know you can go out and shoot a stock image, but they also want to see the artist in you. The hardest thing to do is to develop a demand for your best and most personal work, especially with color landscape photography. GS: What are some ways to develop that demand? WN: When working with magazines I try to develop an article that will feature my best work. I prefer to write articles about my efforts to develop a personal style rather than those featuring technique on taking a stock image. For example, “Here are the images I’ve taken in Yosemite to transcend the clichéd images taken there.” There are various angles. You can control how your work is seen and how you are perceived. GS: How do you attempt to transcend the clichéd image? With so many pictures made there, I guess it must be challenging to fi nd new ways of seeing when working in a place like Yosemite. WN: I think you do that by immersing yourself in your subject and
Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 spending some time in it—not just coming to a place for a few days or even a few weeks. You can return to a place often, or actu- ally live in a place and photograph there to create a body of work. In many ways, you may have to structure your life so that you can do that. By spending enough time with your subject you can often work through the clichés. After you’ve photographed them half a dozen times you get tired of it and start looking for a different angle or take on the subject. I think it also has to do with hav- ing faith in your own unique and personal vision. You have to believe it’s there. The techniques of isolating and simplifying the William Neill 193
composition and taking things out of context are fairly obvious. In a place like Yosemite, just move in closer or photograph scenes that don’t include the monumental granite walls—the landmarks. Exploring is a big part of it. In that way, you can fi nd a dif- ferent angle or place where very few people have stood to take a good picture. For years I’ve tried to take a creative picture of Vernal Falls, which was taken by Ansel and billions of others since. The only real creative image I’ve made there was when I began exploring away from where everyone else stands. It was a matter of capturing a different angle and waiting for the right light. In landscape work—using commercial jargon—it really is a matter of scouting the locations thoroughly and fi nding a new place to stand. But that’s not always physically possible. There are places from which no one has ever photographed El Capitan. GS: Is this the kind of advice you give your workshop students? WN: In a workshop you encourage people to photograph what they want to photograph. Half Dome is sitting there, and even if the light is so-so someone will snap a picture of it. I try to get them to come back when the light is better, but we don’t deny people their shot of Half Dome. You have to start somewhere, and then you encourage them to look beyond that. In some of my workshops I ask people to put their cameras down, take a 20-minute walk through a meadow, come back, and sit and write down adjectives describing how they feel about the environment. It helps them to get in touch with their own per- sonal response to a place, and then go out and take a photograph that refl ects that feeling. GS: You use the term “spiritual ecology.” Would you talk about this? WN: Spiritual ecology goes back to my belief that people need to be in touch with nature—the need for people to appreciate and experience a sense of beauty in the wilderness. Of course, a lot of people do, but they may not really be in touch with it. It’s a matter of wanting to help develop this in myself and those who look at my work. Basically it’s a real simple message—a need to preserve the Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 environment. I feel the place to start is not on a governmental or political level, but at a gut level—inside people, where they really feel the need for wild places. I believe it’s an important part of our lives whether or not we are able to go out there and experi- ence it directly. National parks and other wilderness areas should be there for everyone to tap into whenever they want to. Only when enough people realize how truly precious these places are will the environment be considered important enough to save. Progress is slowly being made. GS: Do you continue to fi nd wonder and newness in Yosemite to photograph after 15 years? 194 William Neill
WN: That’s a good question. Actually I’ve slowed down a lot in Yo- semite. I photograph a lot more when I go to new places. I’m now very selective when I photograph in Yosemite. I’m busier, so I can’t photograph as often as I’d like to. I’ve been concentrating less on Yosemite, but taking what I’ve learned about photography here to new places. But Yosemite is home, and it is reassuring to be here. GS: You don’t see yourself picking up stakes and settling in another beautiful wilderness any time in the near future? WN: Not in the near future, but I’m sure it will happen someday. I’ve been living in Yosemite for 15 years. I’d like to be in another place for a change, but I don’t have one in mind. I’ve been photograph- ing in other places over the years. I began seriously photograph- ing on the East Coast over the past couple of years—in New England and in the Smoky Mountains. But my favorite place, one that I always go back to, is the American Southwest—the high desert areas and Death Valley. I probably have as much good work from Death Valley as I have from Yosemite. GS: That’s an interesting contrast—the lush green of the Northeast to the stark desert of the Southwest. WN: The fi rst half of the eighties I spent photographing mainly in California and the Southwest. I love photographing rock forma- tions in general. It’s been a real nice change and challenge to photograph the lush forests on the East Coast. It’s a whole dif- ferent type of space, a more closed-in space. I’ve been teaching a workshop in Acadia National Park for the last two autumns, and students fi nd so much to photograph there—fall colors, harbors, lobster traps, surf-crashing shores. GS: Are you a good business person? For some photographers, that’s the most painful part. WN: Is it ever! That’s one thing I’ve really had to learn: How to be a good businessman. It defi nitely wasn’t and still isn’t my forte, but I’m learning as much as I can. I still have a hard time thinking of generating multiples of something. My background has been through Ansel Adam’s infl uence, where you get that one perfect
Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 image—you strive for that. I’ve never been productive in terms of volume because of that approach, but I’m starting to do it more and more. It’s also a matter of money. How many 4 × 5s can you afford to shoot of the same subject as stock? But that’s the area I compete in. GS: It’s a competitive market. WN: Yes, but you can develop a niche. And one way to do that is not to market generic work that’s similar to everybody else’s. What dis- tinguishes you is your personal style. It’s not only the best of one’s artistic motivations, but it’s also good business. Lately, I’ve been spending more time in front of my computer than my camera. William Neill 195
But I’m setting up a fi ling system for my images so someone can access it when I’m gone, so I can be out photographing in the wilderness and not lose business while I’m gone. GS: It sounds like a busy work schedule. WN: There’s always coal in the fi re. You just have to keep stoking it! GS: Are you working on any special projects? WN: I’m developing a portfolio of my best landscapes entitled “The Hidden Wilderness.” I’m also developing a portfolio of tree images, and I have a longstanding portfolio of rock abstracts. That tends to be what I favor in my work—abstracting and isolating objects to where they don’t quite have a sense of scale, where distance is hard to tell. I was taught as I was growing up to do what you love to do the very best you can and you will succeed. That’s worked out quite well for me. I’m still able to photograph what I want, and sell and make a living from it. Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 This page intentionally left blank Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 25 ARNOLD NEWMAN
Photo Pro , September 1992
Arnold Newman (1918–2006) was a source of inspiration to generations of pho- tographers. His concepts of symbolic and environmental portraiture revolutionized the approach to and meaning of a photographic portrait. He is widely recognized as one of the masters of 20th century photography, and his work continues to be exhibited in museums and galleries around the world. His work is also part of the permanent collections of numerous museums, including the Metropolitan Museum of Art and the Museum of Modern Art in New York City, the Art Institute of Chi- cago, the International Museum of Photography in Rochester, and the Victoria and Albert Museum in London. As a magazine photographer he became much in demand for the many publi- cations of the day, including Vanity Fair , LIFE , Look , Harper ’s Bazaar, Esquire , and the New York Times Magazine. His portraits of the many artists, poets, musicians, and composers he photographed serve as iconic images of those individuals today, as well as markers of his distinctive style and creative approach to his work. His work has appeared in several books, including Bravo Stravinsky (1967), One Mind ’ s Eye: The Portraits and Other Photographs of Arnold Newman (1974), and Arnold Newman: Five Decades (1986). Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 Newman’s list of awards and honorary degrees is extensive, including the New- house Citation from Syracuse University, the ASMP (American Society of Media Photographers) Lifetime Achievement Award, and the Missouri Honor Medal for Distinguished Service to Journalism from the University of Missouri (Columbia). His honorary degrees include Doctor of Fine Arts, University of Miami; Doctor of Humane Letters, Art Center College of Design, Pasadena, California; and Honorary Fellow, Israel Museum in Jerusalem. At the time of this interview he was as busy as ever with traveling, assignments, numerous workshops and lectures in the United States and abroad, and fi lling the demand of print orders that came in from around the world. 198 Arnold Newman
GRACE SCHAUB: What makes a good portrait? ARNOLD NEWMAN: A good portrait must fi rst be a good photograph. There’s no dividing line between a portrait, a still life, fashion, or sports photography—the only difference is one’s own interests, pas- sions, and ability to communicate. When the painter John Singer Sargent was asked for his defi nition of a portrait, he sounded rather bitter at the time and responded, “A portrait is a picture with something wrong with the mouth.” I get a giggle over that! There are no secrets in photography, or in any art form, for that matter. There are techniques and tools—words, paint, cameras, fi lm, or what have you. These are the materials we use to express ourselves. But we don’t take pictures with our cameras—we take our pictures with our hearts and minds. The camera sees only what it actually sees. The eye sees only what it wants or thinks it sees, but the creative mind, with the creative eye, must know what it sees, how to see, and how to control what it sees. Control, control, control—even in a frac- tion of a second. GS: There is a theory about photographers being “control freaks.” Do you agree? AN: The photographer has to control what he or she sees—that’s part of the job. There are certain people who like control so tightly wrapped they’ll work only in their own studios and hardly ever venture outside—and then there are others who are out all the time. I can’t speak for any of them, but I imag- ine those who only shoot in their studios have or fi nd what- ever they need there—it’s a matter of completely building an image. When I work, I fi nd or seek things out, and then try to control them—whether they are people in their own envi- ronments or abstract images—and then bring them together to create an image. Because a studio is a rather sterile place for me to work in, I change it either with light, panels, torn paper, or paint—but not so much with props. There are thousands of different ways Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 you can take it, but I prefer to go on location. If you want your emotions and feelings to come across in your photographs, you have to have control and make things happen. A good example is Bresson’s “decisive moments.” I went out and watched him photograph one day. He doesn’t just pick up his camera and shoot. You could just see him think- ing and waiting for things to work together. He fi nds a perfect stage, and waits for something to happen—now, that’s control. GS: Each artist has his or her own personal approach. AN: And we all have a particular “eye” that we carry with us wherever we go. Arnold Newman 199
GS: Your studio of ideas starts from within. What do you look for or want to bring out in the people you photograph? AN: That’s a diffi cult question to answer because I do many dif- ferent kinds of portraiture. I’m not looking for the superfi cial, such as an interesting face. I’m looking to interpret that per- son and use that interpretation to develop my creative ideas, which can be straight photography or collage, or something in between. GS: Does the person motivate the creative approach you choose? AN: Yes, but I’m the one I have to turn to for my interpretation. I must rely on my own judgment. These people are simply the subjects, even when they are world-famous. GS: A subject—like a bowl of fruit? AN: Like a bowl of fruit, only they are people, and if they are shown as only a bowl of fruit, or just a subject, the picture is a fl op! GS: How did you arrive at the Stravinsky portrait? AN: People call my portrait of Stravinsky an environmental por- trait; well, it’s not. I would call it a symbolic portrait. I de- signed the whole picture around my concept of Stravinsky: the harshness, the beauty, the quarter note—all of which re- fl ect and express the same strength and beauty of his music. GS: Your understanding of the people you photograph comes through in your portraits of them. Where does research end and artistic judgment and instinct take over? AN: I’m forever looking and always working out my next picture—even when I don’t know what it is. I may come up with preconceived ideas, but they may change when the physical circumstances present themselves. It’s important to have an understanding and knowledge about the people you photograph. Very often you may not meet them until the day you photograph them. I didn’t meet Stravinsky until the day I photographed him. But there is something else. Very often all the research done beforehand doesn’t give you a clue as to what kind of person you will be working with. You have to have an instinct about Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 people—you just can’t photograph by knowing. You have to have instinct, understanding, and knowledge about the per- son you’ll be photographing. This also gives you an opportu- nity to open up a discussion and develop a rapport with your subject. GS: Do you prefer to photograph famous people? AN: It’s been my job for over fi fty years to photograph some of the most famous, talented, and intelligent people all over the world. It’s exciting, I must say. But, most of the people I’ve photographed are not necessarily well known. What is fame, and how long does it last? It fades, it’s elusive, and it doesn’t 200 Arnold Newman
travel well. I’m not so much interested in their fame as much as what might have caused it, and what they do with their lives. Many of the people weren’t famous when I photo- graphed them, particularly the visual artists. They were just people I knew, and their fame came years later. GS: Is it important that your subject be relaxed when you’re photographing? AN: I prefer to photograph people at ease because I come closer to what I’ve called the “common denominator” of that per- sonality. It’s not the height of a laugh or the depth of serious thought. If a person is weeping because a close friend or rela- tive passed away, to catch that expression—if it’s true and hon- est emotion—is good photojournalism, but that’s not what I’m looking for. I am looking to explain that person on a level that everybody would understand at most given moments. It’s impossible to really do it in one picture, but you can come to a close approximation of what that person is about—hopefully. GS: What about your own creative process? AN: I may do variations on a person, and there will be several dif- ferent images. But, each is thought of as one image—I build up to that point or do it spontaneously, or what have you. The point is, I don’t see it as a picture story. Although I’ve done that sort of thing, I’m much more interested in reaching that one image to refl ect my subject at that period or moment in time. I’m always thinking in terms of ideas. In 1941, I set out to experiment with portraiture, and I had certain concepts well- ing up inside me that remain with me today. But there has to be a development within me, and when it comes to the point that I know what I want to do, either specifi cally or generally with one of these concepts, I express it in my work. And, of course, there are new ideas and concepts. But they are nothing more than what the portrait is for me—a hook to work out my ideas. GS: What are some of the themes and ideas you continue to ex- Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 plore in your work? AN: Abstraction, collage, and cubism are always popping up in things I do and coming through in my portraits. I began working with these ideas in 1938 and ’39. This was an excit- ing time to be maturing as an artist—both as a painter and a photographer. The modern art movement was new, and there were so many creative infl uences. GS: Do you have any heroes in the art world? AN: Rembrandt is one of my earliest heroes. And now that I am an older man I look at a Rembrandt and know why he re- mains one of my heroes. I greatly admire the work of Mem- ling, Matisse, Picasso, Mondrian, Man Ray, and more recently Arnold Newman 201
many of the painters from the Pop Art and Abstract Expres- sionist movements. During the eighties the art world has been in turmoil, and I don’t think many really good young artists have come to the forefront. GS: Which photographers excite you? AN: There are many—from Julia Margaret Cameron to Joel Peter Witkin. Horst—he’s one of the most talented photographers of our time. I’ll never forget looking at his work in Vogue and Bazaar . His pictures have magic. I was infl uenced greatly by the work being done by the Farm Security Administration photographers. I had applied to the FSA, and they were happy to have me do so, but at the time Roy Strycker, the director, said, “Arnold, instead of put- ting people on, we now have to disband the organization.” GS: Can you share some interesting stories about those you’ve met and photographed? AN: When I was in my early twenties I had the marvelous experi- ence while living in New York of visiting with Alfred Stieglitz. He was very encouraging, and invited me to come over and talk with him. Once I went to see him about a question on retouching a portrait, which I was asked to do by a client, and which I was pretty good at. But I was a purist and wanted to be an artist, and retouching wasn’t honest photography. But I needed the money. I didn’t know what I should do. So, I went to speak with Stieglitz, which was like going to the Pope for absolution in advance for a sin I was about to commit! He lis- tened to my long sad tale, and to my amazement said, “I don’t care what you do to that negative. You can step on it, spit on it—as long as it is honest, and looks honest. If it doesn’t you’re going to see that, and so is everybody else.” GS: Would you talk about what led to the double portrait you did of Stieglitz and Georgia O’Keefe? AN: I wanted to photograph both of them—together. I had known Stieglitz for some time but never had the nerve to ask him if I could photograph him up until that point. I asked him if I Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 could photograph him and Miss O’Keefe together. I wanted him to ask her for me. And he said, “No, you’re going to have to ask her yourself.” I spoke with her on the phone, and she was a pretty hard wench—all I got was a grunt for an answer. In a desperate effort by a young man to get her to pose for me I said to her, “Well, I’ve photographed 46 artists.” I was trying to impress her with the fact that I wasn’t a neophyte. And she replied, “Oh, are there that many artists in America?” GS: Can the creative process be taught? AN: I don’t believe you can teach the creative process. What you can do is expose students to the creative process, and see if it can develop in them. You can open doors and windows 202 Arnold Newman
for them by showing what great painters, photographers, and sculptors and other artists have done. GS: Do you feel that photographers should be more in touch with art history? AN: I think it’s very important for photographers to start looking—and continue to look—through the history of art, including photography. My idea of a great time is going to my library at home and looking through art and photography books. It’s better than television. We learn from the past. But history leaves us with guideposts—not rules and regulations. That only makes for repressive organizations, schools, and academies which im- prison the mind, especially in the young, and in essence de- nies there is anything else to learn in the future, because they advocate you have to follow the rules. When I talk to photography students I say: If there is any teacher, or anybody, who tells you there is only one way to take pictures—the best way; follow the rules—I tell them to run like hell, and I mean it. We study the past for knowledge, but we don’t stay there—we use what we learn as a springboard into the future, not an anchor. Ideas, that’s what art is all about. It’s the only thread you can fi nd in the history of art. And I consider photography one of the newest art forms, and part of that history. Everything else is nothing more than subject matter and technique that can easily be taught. And remember, the revolution in 20th century art in the Western world was started by one man and triggered off by using traditional materials, techniques, and subject matter—nothing more than apples, landscapes, people—not very revolutionary! But Cezanne’s ideas revolutionized the art world, and in turn laid the groundwork for Picasso, Braque, Matisse, Mondrian, and so on, and in photography, Stieglitz, Strand, Walker Evans. It was not what they painted and pho- Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 tographed, but how they painted and photographed. It is not what we photograph, whether it be famous people, horrible wars and accidents, or great sports events, but how we photo- graph them that counts. And that’s the most important thing to remember. As for my own work, it refl ects the kind of person I am. It visualizes the way I think and feel. I don’t say it’s the best way, or the only way. It is simply my way. Editor’s note: This interview was originally entitled “Ar- nold Newman on Portraiture.” 26 GORDON PARKS
Photographer’s Forum , February 1988
Gordon Parks (1912–2006) was born in Fort Scott, Kansas. He saw many places, met many faces, and accomplished many things. Before taking to photography in the late 1930s, Parks worked as a piano player, a dining car waiter on a train, and had a stint as a professional basketball player. By 1942, Parks was in Washington, D.C. working with Roy Stryker on the Farm Security Administration (FSA) photogra- phy project. During World War II Parks worked as a correspondent in the Offi ce of War Information (OWI), also with Stryker and FSA photographers. In 1949, Parks joined LIFE magazine. As a staff photographer he was given challenging and diverse assignments, from his celebrated high-fashion work to his moving and memorable coverage of poverty and discrimination. During the six- ties, Parks took on some of the most historically important stories of the time, and presented them with compassion, understanding, and objectivity. Parks had a wealth of creativity and was able to express it in many areas. He wrote, directed, and produced fi lms throughout his career, and composed several concertos that have been performed here and abroad. He also wrote many books, including A Choice of Weapons (1966), The Learning Tree (1969), and To Smile in Autumn (1979), which make up an autobiographical trilogy. During the time of Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 this interview he was working on a musical score and libretto for a ballet saluting Martin Luther King, Jr., a book of Irish poems, and a novel based on the life of the 18th century painter J. M.W. Turner. Parks’ The Sun Stalker: A Novel Based on the Life of Joseph Mallord William Turner was published in 2003. Parks’ interest in photography was sparked by his fi rst look at the work done by Roy Stryker’s photographers for the Farm Security Administration. The year was l936, and Parks was working as a waiter on a train. These photographs affected Parks very deeply, and he realized that photography would enable him to show what was right and wrong about America, the world, and life itself. 204 Gordon Parks
As he wrote in his book A Choice of Weapons, “I wanted my children’s children’s children to see my world by looking at my pictures, the purpose was to communi- cate. . . . I knew that more than anything else I wanted to strike at the evil of poverty. And here it was, under my feet, all around and above me. I could point my camera in any direction and record it.”
GRACE SCHAUB: What did working for Roy Stryker and the FSA do for your photographic career? GORDON PARKS: Going to the FSA was the turning point in my career. I learned how to use the camera as a weapon against discrimination, pov- erty, and all the things one likes or dislikes about the universe. GS: What was Stryker’s infl uence on the photographers who worked with him? GP: Stryker wasn’t a photographer himself, as you know, but we would talk about how to point a camera, where to point it, and how to speak with it. GS: The FSA, then, was a good training ground for you? GP: I think working with Roy Stryker and the photographers I was fortunate enough to work with formed my opinions about how to shoot a picture—the structure of it, and so on. All of us were inclined to shoot a picture full frame—the way we saw it, and that’s the way we wanted to see it published. After working a few years with the FSA, it became natural for me to shoot and see this way. Years later, when I worked at LIFE magazine, the edi- tors very seldom cropped my pictures, even when it came to my fashion work. The picture editors were respectful of certain pho- tographers and the way they shot, like Eugene Smith, who shot with the entire scene in mind—just like a painter approaches his or her painting. You wouldn’t crop a Picasso or a Degas. The editors had that kind of respect for you. Even today, I look at something and I frame it immediately. It’s always a balance—it’s automatic, not a search. You look and there it is, the composition comes immediately. GS: Do you think an FSA or a “Stryker” force would be relevant today? Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 GP: We certainly need it. Stryker always taught us to think before we shot—and not to just use up a lot of fi lm. He would prefer you came back with 10 pictures as long as they were good, rather than 100 that were so-so. He didn’t like you to use a wide-angle lens unless the picture called for one. Today, photographers use a wide-angle lens for every shot just because it’s a good focal length, and they don’t have to worry about depth of fi eld. We were more discriminating in our choice of lenses. We would use the lens that suited the purpose and the subject matter. GS: What camera format are you most comfortable using? Gordon Parks 205
GP: I’ve used a 2 1/4 for a while, and it’s fi ne for fashion, faces, and details, but I’ve learned to love the 35mm format. I had a Con- tax, a Rolleifl ex, and at one time a Speed Graphic, but when I got to LIFE magazine, I preferred to use a 35mm camera. They wanted the photographers to use the larger formats back then, but we crammed it down their throats because it was so much more fl exible to go with the smaller format. Working with the 35mm camera was good training for my future involvement with fi lm directing. The fi rst fi lm I shot, The Learning Tree , was in Panavision, which is practically the same format, so it served me well. GS: When you were working for the FSA you were shooting in black and white. At LIFE was it mostly black and white or color? GP: Most of the stories were in black and white. Eventually we got into color. Fashion stories were invariably shot in color to show the fabrics. Certain stories just didn’t come off in color. I did a story on discrimination in the South, and shot it all in color. When I saw the results, I felt it just didn’t work as well as black and white would have. I was assigned to shoot another story on discrimination, this time in the North, and told my editors I wanted to shoot in black and white. I did, and it was much more effective than the color piece. GS: Why was that? GP: There is something about color—the gradations of the tones—that can make a dirty street or even a rag look beauti- ful. You might be shooting the most catastrophic scene in the world—for example, poverty or the war zone. Color takes away from the harshness that is needed to show poverty-stricken areas. I know if I had shot Flavio in color it would have been disas- trous. Certain things are a natural to shoot in black and white. GS: Would the editors generally give you the option? GP: Yes, the editors at LIFE pretty much left it to the discretion of the photographer. They seldom pressed you to shoot in color unless you really felt you needed it. They may have asked you to carry a couple of rolls of color fi lm also, and if something was Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 beautiful, and you weren’t trying to say more than that, you went with color. GS: What was it like working at LIFE magazine during what is con- sidered the “golden era” of photography? GP: That was the golden era. We had all the big format magazines like LIFE , Look , the Saturday Evening Post , where photographers could really spread out their work. The beauty of working for LIFE in those days was that they didn’t give you any time limit. You could stay on assignment until you got the coverage you needed, rather than rush back because of lack of funds or time. 206 Gordon Parks
GS: No deadlines? GP: Generally, there weren’t any tight deadlines. Unless, of course, you were covering a topical story and it was needed that week to close out the magazine. In which case, you hustled and got it off as quickly as possible. If you were in Paris or London, you got your fi lm developed at the labs, and they sent it back to the States for you directly. In many cases, the photographer didn’t get to see his pictures until he returned to the U.S. And that could be two years down the road. I remember once shooting a story for LIFE on American poets and I worked on it for one year. There are certain things you have to wait for; you can’t force them. If you don’t wait your pictures will show you forced it. I came in and handed the editors 12 35mm transparencies for the story. That’s what I wanted. I shot the poets I wanted and selected the pictures; they accepted it and ran it. For that story, I spent a year meeting and photographing poets, reading poetry, and interpreting it the way I wanted for the story. In a similar vein, for the magazine Show , I went to Brazil to try and capture the feeling of the music of Villa-Lobos. I also wrote poetry along with the pictures I shot. It was a very diffi cult thing to do, but it made me think. GS: How did you develop this approach to covering a story? GP: I learned it from Stryker. Although I didn’t write poetry for him while at the FSA, I learned to take the time to think about my work from him. And that’s what I feel is needed today. Photog- raphers should learn to think before they shoot—not just send a barrage of shots off with a high-powered, motorized camera. You would be surprised at the number of photographs brought to the lab at LIFE magazine by just one photographer covering a football game. Sometimes 200 rolls of fi lm are shot for just one assignment, and only 3 or 4 pictures are used. GS: That’s a lot of fi lm. GP: It’s an absolute waste of fi lm. The photographer puts his or her Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 camera up there and shoots in a motorized situation, and knows something will come out of it. Well, I don’t like to shoot that way. I don’t like equipment that tells me what to do; I like to be able to tell the equipment what to do. So I don’t buy all the fancy new gadgets and cameras. I still have my old cameras. GS: Many photographers on assignment today have deadlines, lim- ited time, and budgets, and the work is rushed in. GP: Stryker would send you off on a story to cover New England. If you asked him, “Where do I go?” his answer would be, “Go where you want to go, to New England.” Well, then, “When should I come back?” Stryker would say, “ Don’t worry about Gordon Parks 207
it—go shoot and come back when you feel as though you’ve got the story covered. Just keep in touch with the home offi ce.” Stryker was the same way at Standard Oil when I worked for him there. He sent us out to cover America. Well, he knew you couldn’t cover it in a week or two; for something like that you would be gone for about six months. GS: Sounds like a great way to work. GP: When you are given that kind of fl exibility, you learn a lot more, and you’re not just shooting a lot of stuff that isn’t necessary. But I know there are many photographers who have only a week in which to complete their assignment, so they shoot as much as possible. GS: How has photography affected your life? GP: Photography has made it possible for me to do many things. I didn’t take to writing until I was assigned to the Paris bureau for LIFE magazine. It was there I met Camus and Richard Wright. I got to know so many people in Paris who inspired me. I wanted to say something with the typewriter. I also started composing music in Paris. It had always been my ambition to be a concert pianist. GS: In what year were you assigned to the Paris bureau? GP: 1950. GS: What was it like for you over there? GP: I was not so caught up in being a black man in a foreign country. Here, in America, it was an ongoing fi ght against discrimination—before the sixties it was a constant battle. Your thoughts centered on one thing—survival. When I got to Paris my mind was free and I began to pursue other things. I was able to take time to compose, write, and do all those things I wanted to do. I also had time between assignments. At LIFE , it could be two months before another assignment came through, and I wouldn’t waste that time. I either wrote poetry, composed music, or wrote books. GS: Were there any opportunities denied you in photography? GP: I haven’t been denied much in photography. I pretty much had Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 my own way at the FSA. I wasn’t shuttled off to do certain things because I was black. At LIFE magazine, I covered royalty, fashion, crime, poverty, discrimination—I did everything. LIFE was very good about that. GS: The 1960s was a decade of political and racial unrest, and you covered many of LIFE ’s most historically important stories. Would you talk about your relationship with the magazine dur- ing that time? GP: The diffi cult thing about the sixties was that when reporting on the Black Muslims, the Black Panthers, and black leaders like Malcolm X, Stokely Carmichael, Eldridge Cleaver, and others, I 208 Gordon Parks
had to walk a very tight rope. I let all the people I covered know that they shouldn’t tell me or do anything they didn’t want me to report, because I’m here to report—and they understood that. I went to talk to Eldridge Cleaver when he was in exile in Al- giers. He understood my position; in fact, he offered me the post of Minister of Information of the Black Panthers. I wasn’t out there as a black reporter but as a reporter, and I had to prove to LIFE magazine that I could do it, and they had faith in me. I’ve called myself an objective reporter with a subjective heart. I had to look and size things up for myself without overloading them. Once I did that, LIFE had confi dence in me doing anything. But I’m sure that at fi rst they thought they couldn’t send Gordon out to do the Black Muslim story because he’s going to overload it, because he’s black also. But I proved differently, and that I was as fair as I could possibly be in the situation. Those were rough times. I had to write my own stories. I couldn’t trust anyone else to write them, because one word could twist the meaning—just one word. So I had to check all the stories before they were put out on the line. I had to be sure everything was correct. It could have been very dangerous for me also. GS: Did you welcome the opportunities to do those stories? GP: Yes. For instance, when Martin Luther King was assassinated, LIFE called me up. I was out in Hollywood working on a fi lm at the time. They said, “Gordon, this is for you. Can you write the piece?” I said, “Sure, I’ll be on the next plane to Atlanta for the funeral,” and I was. For stories like that, they would say, “Nobody can do it like you,” and I wanted to do those stories. It was the same thing with the Black Muslims, the Panthers, Malcolm X, and Stokely Carmichael. The magazine knew I could get closer than a white photographer could. And I wanted to do those stories very much, because they were roaring times in the sixties, and I wanted to be there with my camera. So I was never lim- ited one way or another. I never suffered particularly by being a black photographer. But I don’t think I’ve gotten the fi lms in Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 Hollywood that I should have because I am black. GS: You feel the studios discriminated against you? GP: It’s not that they were discriminating against me, but they auto- matically thought of a white director to do the fi lms they had on the board. When it came to black situations they thought of me. The Learning Tree was a well-balanced fi lm, there were whites and blacks in it. GS: Was that your fi rst fi lm? GP: Yes it was. I walked into Warner Brothers with my own property—a book I had written about my childhood in Fort Scott, Kansas. I met with Kenny Heyman, and within the fi rst Gordon Parks 209
fi ve minutes he said, “I want you to direct the fi lm, and to write the screenplay as well.” I went to his house on Sunday for brunch, played the piano, and he asked if I would do the music also. He said I was the fi rst black director in Hollywood and could use a little clout and wanted me to produce the fi lm as well. At fi rst, I thought he was trying to wash black people out of Hollywood forever by giving me so much to do. GS: Were you feeling a little pressure? GP: The pressure was—could I do it? I never directed a fi lm before, I had never written a screenplay before, I’d never written a musical score, so yes, there was a lot of pressure. GS: How did you deal with it? GP: I got the very best people I could to work with me, and told them all I was the only amateur on the set, and everybody else had to “hit” it. When you realize a lot of people are counting on you to make it, you go out there and you do it. You settle in and you do it, and that’s what I did. The studio backed me up with everything I needed. GS: What were the results? GP: It was one of my best fi lms. I think it turned out beautifully be- cause Kenny Heyman gave me all the freedom in the world to carry it out. GS: What followed? GP: Once I did the fi rst fi lm I was confi dent to carry on. The only fi lm I had two white stars to work with was Super Cops . I did that for MGM. Before that, I had done Shaft , and Shaft ’ s Big Score—which I did the music for as well. Those fi lms were tremendous box offi ce hits. After that, I had fi lms offered to me by white producers who were trying to get a fi lm done with the studio, but they were not successful in getting the money together to carry it out. I would say about half the fi lms offered to me didn’t come off for some reason or another, but the studio would say, “We want you, Gordon, to do the fi lm.” For some rea- son or other, Hollywood just points to the white director. They sent me a lot of screenplays that I wouldn’t be caught doing, they Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 were so bad. GS: That bad. GP: I’m in a position where I can say no. I don’t have to worry about doing a fi lm just for money—not that I am a millionaire—but at this point in my life, why do something that’s bad? It doesn’t make sense. GS: What do you look for in a project or assignment? GP: I could read a book or see something on television about any- body that strikes me. I’ve written a book about an Irish girl titled Shannon . Most of my poetry is about people and about the universe—I really believe in universality. I don’t want to 210 Gordon Parks
be cornered or pushed there to do a certain thing because I’m black. If the idea suits me, and I know I can do a good job, sure, I’ll do it. But don’t push me there just because I’m black and it’s a black situation. GS: How do you feel about the way news is covered today. GP: Many photographers shoot now, more or less, for sensationalism. They don’t seem to really burrow in and get the meat of the story, or they don’t have time, I suppose. And they are not really trained to do it. They do what they can as quickly as they can and hurry back to the managing editor with it. I feel a lot of coverage is pretty shallow stuff. I think part of the blame can be put on the magazines themselves. GS: What was your childhood like? GP: I had 14 older brothers and sisters, and a mother and father who gave me nothing but love, love, love. Because of that I am very secure. We were very poor, and I know after coming through that background, I could just about do anything and that noth- ing would frighten me. Another thing it did was to help me to be able to readjust quickly to any situation, because that’s what my whole life was about in Kansas and in Minnesota—readjusting to catastrophe. Poverty and dangerous situations were always close by during my youth. I can face situations and come out of them without getting completely fl ustered. I use my head and the sense of judgment that my mother and father gave me. They were very religious people. I have pictures of them close by me, and when I have to make diffi cult decisions, and it has to do with morality, I look at their pictures and say, “Sarah and Jack Parks wouldn’t like it if I was doing something wrong.” And that’s followed me all through my life. GS: When did you fi rst connect with your creative abilities? GP: I imagine it was with music. I was thumping on the piano as far back as I can remember. When I was four or fi ve years old I was thumping away. As I got older, I would go out in the fi elds by myself and become absorbed in the musical sounds I heard as the wind blew across the prairie. There were times I would imagine Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 hearing full orchestras with people playing their instruments for what seemed like a long time. At school, my teachers reported that I was good at inventing stories for the class. I guess I was about eight or nine years old. I would make up wild stories right on the spot, and all my classmates and teachers always liked them. In fact, years later I met one of my former teachers, and she said she wasn’t surprised I became a writer. I’ve always been very inventive. I don’t know where it comes from particularly. But I think possibly that I consider music to be the most mysterious thing I do as far as I’m concerned and my inner being is con- cerned, because, you know, you reach up there and get a chord, Gordon Parks 211
and you put another chord there with it, and you put the melody to it, and after a while, it’s a whole symphony or piano concerto, and you say, “Wow, where did that come from?” But I fi nd myself feeling that I need a lot more time to do many things, because I feel as though I really have the basics now—and I need the time to do it. GS: You feel your creativity is constantly unfolding? GP: I don’t think that by 50 or 60 you can have it all. There have been some geniuses, of course, like Mozart and people like that. But maybe they could have been greater if they had more time. But now I think I’m getting it all together, and I’m ready to do it, you understand, and that’s what keeps me fresh and going and alive. Everything is coming together. GS: What have been your sources of inspiration? GP: I go back again to my mother and father. They are my heroes. I’ve seen them both do things that I thought were remarkable—far beyond what the average human being would do. There are cer- tain people who inspire me, certain pieces of music inspire me, certain writers inspire me. One of my favorite poets is Pablo Neruda, because he is so down to earth. Debussy will do some- thing I like. Rachmaninoff, I love. There are certain things peo- ple do I admire, like a certain writer for one book he’s done, or for his style—but not generally for their overall lives. I don’t have many heroes, but there are people I admire very much for what they have done in their lives, like Paul Robeson for the sacrifi ces he has made for his people. GS: Which photographers do you admire? GP: I admire most of the FSA photographers. I admired Gene Smith’s tenacity in going after certain subject matter. I admire Ernst Haas for his sense of color, Pete Turner for his vivid imagination. I admire Carl Mydans at LIFE —he was a good writer and a very good photographer. He was very instrumental in getting me to write about my life. I admire Eisenstadt for some of the things he did and for his ability to hang in there. Even though he is a certain age now, he still has drive. I have no great set heroes out Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 there. I can like a photographer for his personality and a certain attitude he has toward life. I liked Stryker. A lot of people didn’t like Stryker. He and Walker Evans didn’t get along at all. Some thought he was too pushy. But I didn’t—I just sort of laid back and listened and learned from him. I think most of the photog- raphers in the end learned Stryker did more good than bad. GS: What do you look for in your own photography? GP: I look for personal satisfaction, in terms of does it excite me and affi rm my imaginative process. If I feel it does, I did what I wanted to do. For the stories I did on people—especially those who were poverty-stricken and in ill straits—I am speaking for 212 Gordon Parks
them, not necessarily for myself. If I am successful in portraying their problem, then it’s satisfactory to me. I am not out there to please myself at that moment; I am out there to deliver their message. GS: Do you consider your photographic work to be more a social tool than, say, your music or poetry? GP: Yes, but some of the poetry deals with social situations also. GS: Has your career as a photographer been satisfying? GP: Yes, photography allowed me to go in pursuit of a lot of things. I think if I had my druthers and was just allowed to do one thing, it would be between poetry and music. Poetry is in everything: in the music, in the writing, in the fi lms, and in the photography also. You have to see the poetry of it. But I don’t regret the hard days of my early life. I think it has done more good than a formal education would have done me. I was able to go out and do so many things because I was not particularly secure about any one thing. In the beginning I had to do a lot of things in case one failed me, another would back me up. GS: What would you advise emerging photographers of today? GP: To take a calculated risk with your work. You may be way un- derexposed and know it. But you also know if you hit it right on the spot you want, it’s going to be good. Usually people take a meter reading, it tells you to shoot at f16 at 1/125th of a second, and it’s going to be perfect. Well, you don’t always want it perfect, you want it extraordinary, so you change your reading. You win some and you lose some. But it all balances out. But you have to take a chance. The good thing about working for a magazine like LIFE is you could always afford to take a chance. After you shot what you needed for the magazine, you could shoot something for your personal work, and you put that one in a special box. But I never overshot. I seldom take more than three shots of one thing. GS: What are some of the projects you are working on now? GP: I am doing the musical score and libretto for a ballet for a Martin Luther King tribute. I am also writing a book of poetry, and a Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 novel based on J. M. W. Turner, the 18th century painter. GS: That’s a lot of work. GP: All these projects and ideas are going around in my head. But I won’t purposely get up to write tomorrow. I’ll do what I feel like doing best each morning. If I feel like coming to the piano and composing, I’ll compose. If I feel like poetry, I’ll go to the typewriter and write poetry. If I think I should hang out with a novel, I’ll do that. But the beauty of it is knowing that every day of my life, when I get up I am going to be doing something I like very much. A lot of people don’t have the opportunity to do this. GS: You have many talents to choose from. Gordon Parks 213
GP: There are many people who can do many things; they just don’t realize it. They assume they were cut out to be lawyers, or carpet makers, and that is the only thing they pursue. I think the fact that I didn’t get an academic start probably helped me, because I had to hustle and do a lot of things, in case one failed me I could go on to another. Right now, I haven’t done a fi lm in quite some time. Well, if I had to depend on fi lms alone, I’d be a basket case. This way, if I don’t have a fi lm to do, I’ll go on and compose some music. It keeps me going constantly, and I expect that’s the way it will be for all the rest of my life. Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 This page intentionally left blank Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 27 FRED PICKER
Photographer’s Forum , February 1990
Fred Picker (1927–2002) was the author of several books, including The Fine Print (1975), The Zone VI Workshop (1976), Iceland Portfolio (1976), and Fred Picker (1979), a monograph. His book Rapi Nui: Easter Island (1974) was published by Paddington Press in London. He was also the author and publisher of the Zone VI Newsletter , a quarterly, and he produced numerous instructional videos, including Printing with Fred Picker (1989) and Photography with Fred Picker (1990). Each summer Picker taught a well-attended Zone VI photography workshop in Putney, Vermont, a short distance from where he lived and worked the rest of the year—excluding the time he spent traveling and photographing, and sometimes fl y-fi shing, in distant and exotic places. The genesis for much of his energy and resultant “following” among readers and workshop attendees was his business, Zone VI Studio, located in Newfane, Vermont. The company produced hand-crafted 4 × 5 cameras as well as numerous fi eld shooting and darkroom aids and was eventually purchased by a large photographic distribution fi rm. His Zone VI Newsletter was somewhat notorious only because he occasionally took on other writers in the photographic fi eld, yet he also had numerous followers who learned much from his discussions on exposure, print quality, and processing Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 and musings on other photographers and their work. He was a great admirer of Paul Strand and Ansel Adams and had an impressive collection of prints by them and other photographers. Part of his yearly workshop was inviting attendees to spend time in his darkroom, where he would guide them in what today might be called his “workfl ow.” For some Picker was a controversial fi gure in that he spoke his mind, while for others he helped guide them through what could be called the intricacies of the Zone System and helped them gain a real appreciation for black and white large format photography. 216 Fred Picker
GRACE SCHAUB: What attracts you most about photography? FRED PICKER: Sometimes I think photography is an excuse to allow me to travel. Through my photography I’m able to spend time in wonderful places such as Easter Island, Iceland, Ecuador, and the Hebrides off the coast of Scotland. To have the time to discover and learn about the country I’m photographing is very exciting for me. I also think photography encourages you to see better. Somehow you become a predator when you’re working with your camera, and you tend to look harder. Things become more intense for me when I’m photographing. GS: How much of what you see photographically is innate? FP: It’s only partly innate. You have to work at it, like anything else. If we talk about musicians, there may be one in thousands who has achieved great heights. No one is born playing a violin concerto. It takes study and practice to achieve that level of ability. I feel the same goes for photographers—you don’t become a “natural” without working at it. GS: How much of an emphasis do you place on the mechanics of photography? FP: There is too much emphasis on the mechanics. They are what some people call “technique.” I don’t regard developing fi lm as technical. To develop fi lm you need temperature, a thermometer, a clock, and a method of agitating fi lm—there’s no magic at- tached to it. You just do it! It’s like a guy splitting wood. It’s really totally noncreative—as it should be. You should do it the same every time, spend an hour learning it, and be done with it. GS: What is the most exciting part of photography for you? FP: Finding the thing that I want to photograph. When I see some- thing that really excites me, that’s the best part right there! The rest is getting the camera and taking the picture. The location of the quarry is really the end of the hunt! GS: What subjects attract you specifi cally? FP: What excites me is discovering at random, or accidentally, that which has never been seen the way I’m seeing it at that particular moment. Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 GS: For example? FP: A wave that breaks on a beach. There are billions of waves that break on beaches, and no two of them in the millions of years of waves breaking on beaches have been the same. And if you’re there watching “your” wave, then certainly there has never been a picture like that before! That to me is very exciting—the idea of making a picture that no one else had ever or can ever make. GS: Are waves a particular theme in your work? FP: A lot of photographs I’ve been making over the past few years are of rivers and brooks. This subject fascinates me because rivers are never the same. From minute to minute light changes, shadows Fred Picker 217
change, things sparkle that may not have been sparkling before. Ice happens, snow happens—high water, low water—leaves drift in autumn, clear water in summer; no water—rocks showing; changing forms. You can go through the same stretch of river 50 times and each time it’s a new visual and emotional experience. GS: What is your photographic approach to your subject? FP: I hunt for pictures. I try to be sensitive to anything that wants to have its picture taken. I know what kind of pictures I would like to make. Those are the pictures that refer to what we know in addition to what we see. There is another level to them. It’s more than a picture of a subject—it’s what I call “otherness,” which is another layer of meaning. I would liken it to music. One tune may be factual, unmemorable and emotionally thin, whereas when you listen to Bach there is this “otherness” that will reach you on another level—a deeper, more sensitive level. Photographs that have this quality fascinate me but are incredibly diffi cult to make. GS: How do you recognize this “otherness?” FP: I can look at a scene in life and recognize it, but then when I take its picture it’s only occasionally that the picture holds that which I felt at the moment I photographed it. So you can’t blame it on the material. It’s the photographer that’s lacking. The difference between success and failure with these pictures is infi nitesimal. You can’t say that I did this wrong, or if I moved three inches to the right I would have had it—sometimes the pictures have it and sometimes they don’t. It’s in the print or it isn’t. GS: But at the moment you took the picture you felt for sure you had it? FP: Every time you take a picture you feel you have a winner, but you know that only a small percentage of your pictures will be successful. GS: Where do you get your inspiration? FP: Music—it’s the most abstract art. Music frees you to go places where you haven’t been; so do great photographs. What makes a photograph great is that “otherness” that allows you to wander Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 through it. Of itself it’s a picture. For instance, Edward Weston’s photograph of a shell is a shell like a bunch of other shells, but the way he saw it, the way he explained it, and the way he felt about it in some strange way allows you to look at it and think in other terms. It goes far beyond being an actual rendition of a shell. These are the pictures that provide inspiration. GS: Are you interpreting or documenting reality in your photographs? FP: I think photographers owe reality nothing, and the photogra- pher’s feelings about what he or she is looking at is everything. A photographer’s reality is what he or she wants to show. GS: To be an effective photograph, does it have to please an audience? 218 Fred Picker
FP: There are people who would say if they don’t understand it then the photographer didn’t explain it very well. But I would say to that: There are plenty of people who don’t understand Bach. The fact is that Bach never had a million record sale, and there are dozens and dozens of rock musicians who have. The response of the audience is relatively unimportant to the serious photogra- pher. If the photographer knows within himself that he has ac- complished what he was hoping to do, that makes the picture a success. And if one or two people are excited by it, that’s fi ne. If they aren’t, that’s fi ne also. GS: What is your background in photography? FP: Before I became a photographer, I was a collector and appreciator of paintings. One of my favorite places is the Museum of Mod- ern Art in New York, where I’d spend hours at a time looking at paintings. One day I got lost and meandered by mistake into the photography wing and was completely carried away by the intensity of the work I saw. GS: Who were the photographers being shown there? FP: I was lucky. It was a potpourri of all the acclaimed masters—Edward Weston, Paul Strand, Eugene Atget, Henri Cartier-Bresson, and other famous and wonderful photographers whose work I guess I was ready to see. I was stunned by the fact that these photographs were more emotionally powerful than most of the paintings I had been looking at. GS: Is that when you got a hold of a camera and began photographing? FP: No, it seemed absurd to buy a camera, just as it would have been to pick up a cello on the way home from a concert. I became fascinated with photographs and started collecting them. I don’t think you have to do it to love it. I came to photography from the photographic end, not the camera end. For years I collected good photographs—Strands, Westons, and more recently Koudelkas. I collect photographs because I love them. GS: But eventually you felt a need to photograph. FP: I met a very good photographer named Gene Pyle, who was with LIFE magazine. He also photographed the New York Gi- Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 ants football team and invited me to accompany him to a few games. Before I knew it, I had a camera in my hands. Since I was in the right place at the right time, I ended up with my pictures in magazines. I started photographing more personal things and got very involved in taking pictures. Soon I moved on to a 4 × 5 format, which gave me more control, which was what I needed to take the kind of pictures I wanted to make. GS: You spent some time working with Ansel Adams, didn’t you? FP: Yes, soon after I became involved in photographing I attended an Ansel Adams workshop. He was very encouraging and asked me to stay on. I stayed for about six weeks, got to know him better, and helped him around the darkroom. Fred Picker 219
Once I got into photography I got into it in a big way. I worked very hard. I was also taking commercial assignments—architectural photography—which was a natural for me as I had been in the construction business for some time. GS: That’s an interesting transition! Your background and apprecia- tion for the arts served you well. You were developing your sen- sitivity and eye for photography years before you picked up a camera. FP: I think I started from the knowledge and appreciation of good photographs and the love of photographs. GS: How long were you doing commercial photography on a full-time basis? FP: I quit commercial work after one and a half years because I knew if I continued doing that I wouldn’t do any personal work. I was setting up lights and moving furniture around fi ve days a week, and by Saturday it was hard to get up early and go out to pho- tograph for myself. I think photographers who do any personal work in addition to their commercial assignments are admirable, because it’s very hard to do both. GS: When did you decide to pull up your New York stakes and settle in southern Vermont? FP: I was successful at commercial photography. I had two assistants working with me. But one day I did a little math and found out I was working through noon Thursday to pay them, through Friday noon to pay the government, and Friday afternoon was for me. I decided that was absurd! And then I decided to leave my rather costly home in Westchester, where taxes are high and mortgages are high, and move into a little house in Putney, Ver- mont, where I had gone to high school. I decided I was going to make less money and photograph more. GS: When did you begin Zone VI, put together the catalog, and start selling photographic equipment? FP: That was to keep the wolf from the door. I had designed some equipment that I’d made for myself, such as a tripod and print washer that other photographers liked. So, in a small way, I started
Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 selling equipment. GS: Were the Zone VI workshops an outgrowth of this? FP: I had been conducting evening workshops in Westchester at my home before my move to Vermont. In 1974 when I moved to Putney I had a mailing list, and the size and number of workshops grew. I cut them back to once a year now. GS: Through Zone VI, you are well known for your medium and large format cameras. Do you work entirely with these two formats? FP: Almost entirely. GS: Do you think photographers who use larger formats have a dif- ferent attitude towards their work than their 35mm cousins? 220 Fred Picker
FP: Generally, when photographers use a larger camera format they show a suffi cient interest in photography to have bothered to buy a camera that is cumbersome, heavier, and requires more care and feeding in terms of loading fi lm and developing sheets. This is not to say a 35mm user could not have that same level of interest. A great 35mm photographer such as Henri Cartier-Bresson cer- tainly has as much dedication as any user of any kind of camera. GS: A larger format is slower paced and a more leisurely way of photographing. FP: I always think of 35mm photography as catching the world on the run. GS: One of the things it does best. FP: It’s a terrifi c tool. A lot of people think I don’t care for 35mm photography. It’s not true—I love 35mm photography. I love good photographs, and I don’t care what you use to take them. The accomplished photographer will use the proper tool to do the job he or she has to do. To try to photograph landscape with a 35mm is ludicrous, and to try to photograph fast-action sports with an 8 × 10 view camera is just as ludicrous. GS: Do you have any other advice for our readers? FP: If you’re serious about photographing certain subject matter, get the right camera for the job. Decide what you want to pho- tograph, then fi nd out what those people who are successful photographing that kind of thing are using. So if you want to photograph an “Ansel Adams” type landscape get an 8 × 10, be- cause he knew what he was doing. GS: What is necessary to make a good photograph? FP: I would say it’s having a point of view and something worth say- ing. Most people think if they can learn a few techniques they can be a photographer. That’s like saying you can be a writer if you learn how to type. That’s not the problem. Find out what’s meaningful in your life and explore it until you get an under- standing of it. Unless your exploration becomes an obsession, you’re not going to get good photographs. In my Zone VI workshops and high school and college courses
Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 that I’ve taught over the years, I’ve seen a lot of pictures of sub- jects the students have no strong feelings for. Instead of photo- graphing their families, friends, and what is meaningful in their lives, they’ll go out, for instance, and photograph gravestones. GS: Couldn’t that be a genuine interest? FP: Yes it could, but I’ve found more than likely it’s a subject they saw in a book by other photographers who are genuinely interested in gravestones. There is no personal involvement. You can easily see it in the pictures. GS: Do you make a distinction between “fi ne art” and other types of photography, such as photojournalism? Fred Picker 221
FP: I think the term “fi ne art photographer” is absurd. An artist is what your peers decide you are after you’re dead for 50 years. I can never understand when someone calls himself an artist—you’re a worker. When we talk about an artist I think of someone like Ce- zanne or Picasso or Degas. “Artist”—that’s not a term to throw around so easily. That title is reserved for heavy-duty people who produce a large body of original and serious work. GS: You have a great admiration for Paul Strand. What makes Strand stand out as an artist in your mind? FP: What makes his pictures great was his personal, human great- ness. The great people are the great artists. They have important things to say. They say them in music, in paintings, in literature, in photography. GS: What do you try to get across to your students? FP: I look at people’s pictures and say, “You’ve got to listen to Bach. You’ve got to shake the cage. You’ve got to get excited. You have to have that real desire to penetrate, to dig in, to discover.” Those are the things great artists and musical composers have done. They don’t just plod along doing the expected or trying to please a teacher. I think there is a terrible infl uence on young people who are studying photography. In subtle and not so subtle ways they are being told what to photograph. GS: In what ways? FP: Very often students imitate what they see hanging on walls of museums. These “new acquisition” shows often send the message that this is what we are buying, so if you want your work in here this is what you should provide. GS: Are there students you feel you can’t teach? FP: I have had outstanding photographers at my workshops who I have offered refunds to. These are people who are unique, have a style and a way of photographing that’s absolutely their own. I say to them, “I’m not telling you anything, because I don’t want to infl uence you one way or another. I don’t even want to tell you what’s good about your pictures, because it may make you so conscious of it, it could ruin it for you.” I let them stay if they’d Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 like, but I tell them they can have their money back, go home, and keep working. They’ve got something special, and I don’t want to fool with that. This page intentionally left blank Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 28 CHRIS RAINIER
Photographer’s Forum , September 1992
Chris Rainier (b. 1958) has traveled all seven continents pursuing his personal mis- sion to document the last untouched wilderness areas and native tribes of the world. His photographs have been featured in numerous magazines and publications, including LIFE, National Geographic , the New York Times , and Conde Nast Traveler . His work has also been featured in publications of the International Red Cross, the United Nations, and Amnesty International. He has covered diverse subjects and events, such as the survivors of the Killing Fields in Cambodia; the civil wars in Sri Lanka, Somalia, and Yugoslavia; the Bho- pal gas incident in India; Tibetan refugees; and the effects of human impacts on Antarctica. Currently he is a National Geographic Fellow and co-director of the Enduring Voices Language Preservation Project and National Geographic Society Cultures Ethnosphere Program, and director of the Society’s All Roads Photography Pro- gram. He is a contributing editor for National Geographic Traveler magazine and a contributing photographer for National Geographic Adventure magazine. He has exhibited work in numerous museums and galleries around the world, including George Eastman House, International Center of Photography (New Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 York), United Nations, Baltimore Museum of Art, and Museum of Fine Arts in Houston. He has received fi ve Picture of the Year awards and a Communication Arts award. From 1980 to 1984 Rainier worked closely with Ansel Adams as an assistant. At the time of this interview he was working on his upcoming book Keepers of the Spirit: Stories of Nature and Humankind (1993), which documents sites where ancient civilizations once existed and native cultures are currently undergoing radi- cal change or threat. His later books include Where Masks Still Dance: New Guinea (1996) and Ancient Marks (2004). 224 Chris Rainier
GRACE SCHAUB: Could you talk about your experience with Ansel Adams and how this infl uenced you personally and professionally? CHRIS RAINIER: I worked in conjunction with a couple of other assistants on a number of environmental projects and printing projects. The main thrust of what we were doing was preparing for his au- tobiography. We made proof prints of his negatives for him to look at. There had only been 6000 negatives printed out of over 50,000 that he shot that were ever printed. From the proof prints he picked and edited down for a selection that he was going to use for his autobiography. Unfortunately, he died in the middle of that process. But I continued with one other person to complete that project, and it came out in 1985. GS: What was the core teaching you took away from that time? CR: I learned not so much technical information, but dedication, integrity in the fi eld—which I think is so important—his love of life, and his passionate desire to be involved in life was very inspirational. Another thing I found very fascinating was the en- tourage of photographers, artists, musicians, and politicians who passed through there. GS: Did you have formal training in photography prior to that? CR: I attended the Brooks Institute in Santa Barbara and prior to that I went to the High School of Performing and Visual Arts in Houston, Texas. From a very early age, I knew I wanted to be a photographer. As I was fi nishing up at Brooks I took an Ansel Adams workshop. And at that point I was fairly focused and knew I wanted to do travel photography, and use my photography for environmental and humanitarian goals, and that’s how I linked up with Ansel. We hit it off, and after I graduated from Brooks, he hired me as an assistant, and after that as his photographic assistant. GS: You’ve done a lot at a young age. CR: Growing up, I spent a lot of time living overseas. My father was originally South African, and so we spent time in South Africa, we lived in Australia, Europe, and we traveled a lot. I had the op- portunity to see a lot of indigenous cultures, and that allowed me Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 to previsualize and focus in on what I wanted to do, and become very involved in international projects. GS: How do you fund your extensive travels? CR: In a variety of ways. Sometimes I’ll do a piece for a travel maga- zine, for example, or a safari in Kenya, and then hop on a plane and go to Ethiopia. Another way I earn money is by teaching workshops through a number of other organizations. I lead a trek through a place like Kenya or South America or Thailand, and once I’m fi nished with that trip, since I’m very close to a particu- lar area, I go on to another assignment from there. For example, I was lecturing for a travel company, fi nished, went to Sri Lanka to Chris Rainier 225
do a story on civil war, and then on to Cambodia to do a similar story. This is called “piggy-backing.” The best way is when you’re hired for a story by a particular magazine. Occasionally it will be a newspaper, or a humanitarian group, or an environmental magazine I’ve pitched. Part of what I do is humanitarian and refugee stories. I’ve worked in Ethiopia, Sudan, and Somalia. These have been mostly for the United Nations and the Red Cross, as well as Amnesty In- ternational and Médecins Sans Frontières. I use them as umbrellas to go in and work on projects in an area, and try to get them into European or humanitarian magazines. They may not be able to afford to pay me, but in exchange for access into a very restricted area and protection—say, if I do go into Somalia I’ll stay in their compounds, work with their doc- tors, and drive in their trucks—and in exchange for that they will get images and the public PR of having the pictures reproduced in magazines such as Mother Jones or, perhaps, LIFE magazine. GS: So it really seems to work out well for everybody. CR: Yes, it helps everybody out in the end. That’s a lot of what maga- zine stories are all about these days. Gone are the days of having an outrageous budget. There are a few magazines that I work for that still sort of write the ticket, but by and large if there’s any- thing that has any soul to it, any long-term investment in terms of quality of work, one has to say to a magazine like LIFE magazine, “Can you give me a couple of days,” and maybe they’ll give you fi ve days at a day rate, and you then turn around to Geo or Stern , and say, “Look, I already have my way over there, I’m just looking for you to cover the airfare.” GS: It takes a lot of work, but it’s all worth it if it works out. CR: Sometimes it takes a year of planning. A recent article I did in Antarctica took a year of working with a number of different people, and then it came down to the airlines donating the airfare. You have to do it this way these days. I think it’s a mistake for beginning photographers or students to think to work toward a goal of someone calling you, and you’re sitting by the phone and Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 saying, “You’ve only been in the fi eld a couple of years, but we are going to write your ticket all the way.” It takes a lot of invest- ment of time and building up a reputation, and then creativity. It’s that marketing that is more important in the end than one’s ability to photograph. The key is to get just as good in marketing as in photographing. GS: So even though you have a passion for the work that can’t blind you to the realities of getting it done. CR: Well, it doesn’t often pay the bills completely, but that’s where the sacrifi ce comes in. If paying the bills and having a comfortable lifestyle—and doing that is valid—is a priority, and you want to 226 Chris Rainier
do that through photography, there are directions one can take. But if you can sort of do the Robin Hood approach, as I call it, of doing those kinds of assignments and then that turns around and helps you do the assignments that you won’t make a lot of money on, it can be important and helps you satisfy your goals. GS: What kind of experiences growing up gave you this perspective on work and involvement in other cultures? CR: I give credit to my parents for raising both my brother and me overseas. They made a real commitment to let us experience a lot of different cultures. I grew up with the beginnings or seeds of a vision that everything doesn’t originate in North America and emanate from there, which I think a lot of people just assume to be true, that the world sort of revolves around the U.S. There is a certain lack of respect for other cultures, and I can see where it comes from. If I have children one day, I would insist on taking a year off from whatever I’m doing and live in Africa or go to India, and that is a real eye-opener and starts the whole process. That’s what my parents did, and this is sort of an extension of the process of really wanting to know what other cultures are doing, and how this whole planet seems like a jigsaw puzzle fi tting together. We need to think of a new world that isn’t driven by economics, because that has not worked. The public is not aware of what’s going on in Africa or Asia, and in ten years it is going to really haunt us, because the third world is taking control of themselves, they are coming out of the colonial era and growing up and becoming industrial—and we need to be more aware of that. GS: Your work points out a certain relationship that indigenous cul- tures have with the land and the world around them. CR: There is a wonderful book, In Absence of the Sacred, by Jerry Man- der; it’s a Sierra Club publication. That book really helped me to articulate, or begin to articulate, my relationship to the land and indigenous cultures. In so many other cultures, especially in- digenous cultures of the fi rst peoples of the land, there was an Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 assumption of self-sustainability. The anthropological assumption was that comes out of a certain naive perception, but the further people have researched they are beginning to realize that many of these indigenous cultures were very sophisticated in their un- derstanding of the relationship to the land. In other words, only harvest a certain amount in one particular area, and don’t harvest there for another fi ve years. I think our contemporary culture has missed the point that we can extrapolate from their equation and fi gure out what we are doing wrong. We don’t worry about tomorrow, and use all our resources up today. Chris Rainier 227
GS: One of the main areas you have explored is a sense of sacredness in these cultures. CR: Once you are with people from these cultures you begin to dis- cover other ways to look at the equation. We have been so in- doctrinated with the idea that success comes from acquisition of material goods and have paid little attention to the spirit—our internal spirit, our internal mythology. We’ve suddenly run dry, and we are turning into a culture without any guts to it, and I think a lot of the answers for me lie in other cultures out there. GS: Can that sense of sacredness still exist? CR: I think it must. That’s so important for the long-term survival of the planet. And I think people are saying now, “Let’s preserve the land—enough is enough.” Its almost the post-grassroots of the sixties—people are really seeing the sense of having a place that is preserved, if for nothing other than a place to go and walk and think. GS: Are there energy centers that tap you into this sense of the sacred? CR: If you go to a monastery in Tibet, or go to a village in New Guinea, or to Machu Picchu, or to the Queen Charlotte Is- lands, you fi nd yourself in a place where you can see why it is sacred—there is a lot of aesthetic value to the scenery, it was chosen as a very specifi c point. To take that a little further, these cultures were, and remain still, very aware of the fi ve senses. It’s visually exciting; there are nice sounds, amazing tastes and smells. They are more in tune with their senses. GS: You also have done work with the tragic situation faced by refu- gees and displaced persons. CR: I do separate my work done in the refugee camps from my spiri- tual projects, although there are certain places where the two cross over. There are certain indigenous cultures that have been forced out of an area: Cambodia, Somalia, Ethiopia, Tibet. I did a story on the survivors of the Killing Fields in Cambodia. I met with people, adults who are now 30 years old, who, when they were 15 and 16 years old, had to kill relatives to survive. And then being in Ethiopia, not at the height of the famine but in the Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 mid eighties when there were hundreds of people dying of AIDS in refugee camps, and suddenly you become bombarded with the reality of life. I use photography to experience the spectrum of possibilities you have in life, and sometimes you get a little too close to this experience, and it scares you and it hurts you. And I found during that period of time, from ’86 to ’88, that I was doing almost exclusively refugee stories, and I was getting burned out and I was shell-shocked. GS: In both types of work—the humanitarian work and your work that focuses on the sacred—do you have one overriding approach? 228 Chris Rainier
CR: I like what Alfred Stieglitz once said about equivalents. I consider every photograph an individual photograph—it should work on its own—but what I’m trying to work with in each image is to achieve two levels. It gives you some information, and it also gives you the equivalent feeling of what I was experiencing at that point. So that’s when a cloud becomes more than just a cloud, or a guy with a bow and arrow on top of a rock becomes more than someone with a bow and arrow. It is a symbol and a metaphor that hopefully gets beneath the surface. The biggest question I have with myself right now is: What moves people? My concern is, how do I take images that will affect people to think about some kind of change? I’m terrifi ed to say this, but movies that are fi lled with violence and blood and gore have a long-term effect of just numbing people—and they just become callous to the horrors of the world. In the face of that, how do I take images that will affect people and affect some kind of change. One answer might be to show human tenderness and the dig- nity of the people you photograph. That’s so important, because they do have dignity, and they are very intelligent and are very proud, and they have just been caught in the situation that is be- yond their circumstances and control. I guess that is the success of the work by Sebastian Salgado, Eugene Richards, and Mary Ellen Mark—there is a lot of human compassion there. GS: Does photography get you more involved, or does the act enforce a certain distance? CR: I think photography defi nitely forces you to become more in- volved in a place and its people. I know that if I’m just passing through an area, and I’m sightseeing and I don’t take my camera out, I’m less involved and I’m not on the line. I think we tend to put people on the line when we photograph them. The very least a photographer needs to do is put him or herself on the line too. Just take a risk. I think photography has allowed me to become aware of taking risks, and being intimately involved in the people I photograph. That’s an important part of not ripping people off. I Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 think photography, whatever way it is done, is exploitation. There is no getting around that. What makes a difference is to what degree you do it with integrity, and what exchange comes back. GS: How long did it take you to develop your reputation in the fi eld? CR: I do want to say that working for Ansel, without a doubt, helped. But it wasn’t the cure-all, especially for the fi eld that I’m in, which is editorial. It has helped, but in the end the work is the most important thing. You can go into a meeting of editors, and they’ll pat you on the back and say, “That’s nice—what was it like working for Ansel Adams?” But when it comes to the real meat of the conversation, you’ve got to have some substance there. Chris Rainier 229
GS: It gets you in the door, and then you’re on your own! CR: You’re on your own, and if there is only fl uff the fi rst time, the doors close. You have to project what you want to do. My advice is to go out and invest in a longtime project. Get excited about it, and then work on it for two years, and keep coming back and taking workshops. I’m a real avid preacher of workshops. Take a workshop with someone like Mary Ellen Mark, take a workshop with Sam Abel, and every six months come back with a refi ned—based upon what the last instructor said—a fresher body of work on one subject. And then two years down the road you have a strong portfolio, unique vision, and then you kind of bite the bullet and start showing it around. I even advise people who are going to photography schools that if they know what they want to do, and it’s editorial or ad- vertising, I would take that vast sum of money that you’re going to pour into a place like Brooks or Art Center College of Design and spend that money on doing an independent project and tak- ing a workshop every six months. And there are enough work- shops now—Santa Fe, Palm Beach, Anderson Ranch, Maine. There are workshops all year long where you can get some of the best people in the fi eld. GS: And it can be a very intense experience. CR: The professionals who teach don’t usually B.S. around. They tell you, “This is what you’ve got to do.” A lot of people get held by the hand in a place like Brooks, and they don’t even know what it is like out there in the real world. It’s really good to be around people like Mary Ellen Mark and Sam Abel and Gene Richards. They are going to give you a good shot in the arm of cold, harsh reality—and take it or leave it. Not to be harsh, but either you’re going to play in the ballpark or not. This fi eld is not for the light of heart. You really have to stay committed, to be passionate about want you want to do, and go for it. GS: In the end, what do you hope to communicate with the project on indigenous peoples? CR: In part, to document them. Edward Curtis is a big hero of mine,
Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 and there are other photographers, not as well known, who have done those documentary projects over the last 80 years. This is an incredible time in history where we really are in the last stages of watching the fi rst peoples—the fi rst tribes of the earth—change. I’ve spent a lot of time in New Guinea over the last few years. For me, as much as trying to help them, I am also documenting the remains of those cultures. On another level, with my book that’s coming out titled The Keepers of the Spirit, I am saying that we should look at these cultures for some of the answers in our own day-to-day lives, questions we do not seem to be able to resolve. I think people are asking questions about the meaning 230 Chris Rainier
of their lives. That’s refl ected in our own culture in movies like Dances with Wolves, Playing in the Field of the Lord , and Medicine Man . There seems to be awareness and an awakening to other cultures for some answers we don’t seem to be able to fi nd in our own culture. GS: Does that tap into environmental concerns as well? CR: I just came back from Antarctica, and the reason I continue to go down there is that I really believe man has to have the concept in the back of his mind that there is a fi nal frontier, there is a place we should never exploit, destroy, or consume. Emotionally, I think we need to have that. GS: What do you hope to pass on in your workshops and body of work? CR: There were key people along the way in the beginning of my education who told me to keep ahold of your passion—keep ahold of the thing in photography that you love so much—and for me that’s the love of either going out into the landscape or the love of photographing people. The challenge is making a living from that. A natural tendency is to let go of that passion to pay the bills—which is important. But in that it is important to keep projects on the side that keep us alive and keep us fascinated with our own creativity. I think that’s the key. I made a commitment right from the beginning to the kind of photography I wanted to do, quite often staying on extra time without being paid. I think you’ll fi nd most people in the fi eld who are good or aspire to be good take that extra step. That often helps people create work that is exceptional. Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 29 GALEN ROWELL
Photographer’s Forum , November 1991
Galen Rowell (1940–2000) was a well-known adventurer-photographer who devoted his life to wilderness exploration and photography. Rowell made jour- neys to the mountains of Tibet, Nepal, Pakistan, China, Africa, Alaska, Siberia, New Zealand, and Patagonia, and participated in major expeditions to Mount Everest, K2, and Gasherbrum II. He made one-day ascents of Mount McKinley in Alaska and Mount Kilimanjaro in Africa, as well as fi rst ascents of Himalayan peaks such as Cholatse, Great Tango Tower, and Lukpilla Brakk. Rowell also made the highest complete ascent and descent of a mountain on skis on Mustagh Ata, as well as a 285-mile winter traverse of Karakoram Himalaya. As he wrote, “My interest in photography did not begin with books or men- tors . . . or with any burning desire to see the world through a camera. It evolved from an intense devotion to mountains and wilderness that eventually shaped all parts of my life and brought them together.” He did many assignments for National Geographic, Audubon, National Wildlife and International Wildlife, Outside, Sports Illustrated, and Greenpeace . His photography has been featured in many photo magazines, including Popular Photography, American Photographer , and Outdoor Photographer . Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 His photographs were exhibited in museums and galleries throughout the country, including the Smithsonian Institute in Washington, D.C., the International Center of Photography in New York, the California Academy of Sciences in San Francisco, and the Ansel Adams Gallery in Yosemite. In 1984 Rowell received the Ansel Adams Award for his contribution to wilderness photography. At the time of this interview Rowell had published ten books, including Moun- tains of the Middle Kingdom: Exploring the High Peaks of China and Tibet (1984), Mountain Light: In Search of the Dynamic Landscape (1986), In the Throne Room of the Mountain Gods (1986), The Art of Adventure (1989), My Tibet (1990, text and 232 Galen Rowell
quotations by the Fourteenth Dalai Lama of Tibet), and The Yosemite (1992, text by John Muir). I met and talked with Galen Rowell in New York.
GRACE SCHAUB: Would you talk about your recent book, My Tibet, and your in- volvement with its publication? GALEN ROWELL: My wife Barbara and I formed Mountain Light Press to produce and package our own books, camera-ready. My Tibet is our fi rst book, and we plan to do more this way. The idea for doing a book with the Dalai Lama of Tibet was with me for a long time before I actually met him. I fi rst worked with his personal representa- tive in the United States, who proposed the idea to him. Several months later, Barbara and I had an audience with the Dalai Lama in Dharamsala, India. But at that point we didn’t have a publisher. We planned that if we didn’t have anyone who wanted to do the book the way we wanted it done by that time, we would form our own press and take it on ourselves. We signed a book contract and got started on the project without a publisher. Many people in publishing thought this book was a crazy idea and that we couldn’t make it work. GS: What did the Dalai Lama think? GR: He thought it was a great idea after he looked at some of the slides of Tibet we were planning to use. He had been living in exile and hadn’t seen his homeland in 30 years. The Chinese Communists forcibly took Tibet in 1951, much as Iraq took Kuwait. GS: How was this fi rst venture in publishing? GR: Before this we had worked with small packagers to produce three other books. We had more control and higher quality than on previous books done directly through a publishing house. We knew what we wanted, and we hired the best of the people we had worked with over the years—on a freelance basis. We chose a superb designer who had done my Art of Adventure and most of the recent Day in the Life books, a friend from National Geographic to draw a map, and the best copy editor I had worked with on my previous books. Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 My wife Barbara and I worked together. I was the overall edi- torial director, and she was the hands-on person responsible for layout and composition. As we were packaging it, we found a publisher—the University of California Press. They handled the printing, distribution, and promotion, as well as giving all the material a thorough and fi nal review. GS: This project sounds as much an act of love as a business enterprise. GR: Yes, but it was even more than that. In order for me to work with the Dalai Lama, I had to give up any ideas of going back to Tibet as a photojournalist, because the Chinese are extremely sensitive about anyone involved with the Dalai Lama. To them, Galen Rowell 233
he personifi es the Tibetan people’s desire for independence, and in this regard, they’re right. GS: What were the problems you faced? GR: I was tried in absentia for sedition by the Chinese government and found guilty. My crime? I had given a 10-cent picture of the Dalai Lama to a Tibetan on my last trip. GS: Just for handing someone a photograph of the Dalai Lama? GR: Yes, and that’s what really made me think: Why are the Chinese so afraid of the power of a photograph? What is it about a simple photograph of the Dalai Lama that upsets them? I thought, what if I could take that power and turn it the other way—for Tibet. That’s how I came up with the idea of having his voice speak through my photographs—for the enduring natural and cultural heritage of Tibet. But I had to make the decision that I was sign- ing myself off from doing future assignments in a place that I’ve become known as an expert on, and a place that’s very dear to my heart. GS: That must have been a tough decision. GR: It was in one way, but it also felt like a big weight was taken off my shoulders—now I could be completely open about what I said and did, and that felt very good. GS: How much research went into this project? GR: I studied as much as I could about Tibet, and reread all the Dalai Lama’s writings I could fi nd. I was familiar with his work, and wanted to choose some quotations from his existing writings to go with my photographs, but wherever possible I wanted to use his direct responses to my photographs, which made this project different from the previous books I’ve done. It’s more active and in the present, as though you’re in an audience with him, and he is speaking through the photographs in your presence. We re- corded and transcribed several days of interviews and slide shows. GS: How has this book experience with the Dalai Lama affected your life? GR: I am now very much involved with the Tibetan cause, and I’ve become an active spokesperson. I was the keynote speaker for the Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 fi rst conference on the environment of Tibet in San Francisco last fall. The conference was very successful in bringing to light the environmental degradation of Tibet. Scientists have not spo- ken out because they’re afraid their access and the access of their organizations will be cut off by the Chinese if they do. GS: What position does our present administration take regarding Tibet and the Dalai Lama? GR: President Bush won’t acknowledge Tibet’s right to self- determination and has never shaken the hand of the Dalai Lama. He has refused to sanction state visits. When the Dalai Lama won the Nobel Peace Prize in 1989, the Norwegians recognized him 234 Galen Rowell
as the political and spiritual leader of the Tibetan people. The president of unifi ed Germany met with the Dalai Lama offi cially last year, as have many other European leaders, but President Bush hasn’t. GS: As with many other foreign policy issues, our government seems to go forward with blinders on. They will do nothing that will discourage opening trade with China. GR: Especially the Bush administration! GS: Have self-assignments such as My Tibet always been an important part of your work? GR: Yes, and the percentage of my self-assigned work is increasing. Instead of waiting for assignments and following up on other people’s ideas, I’ve been doing more and more work relating to the environment and projects that are self-initiated. I often pres- ent them to magazines or publishers fi rst, but if they reject me, I don’t quit, I just do them anyway. I’m in the position where I can fund them myself if I have to, and if I think something is impor- tant, I don’t take no for an answer. My Tibet is one example. GS: Are there others? GR: A project in Nepal was turned down twice by the National Geographic —a story on the Annapurna area. This area was fi rst proposed as a national park, but that idea was squelched by the local people who didn’t want a park because they felt they would be second-class citizens on their own land. Historically, they con- trolled their own wild lands. National park status would bring in a park service, wardens, and the whole government apparatus. The local people didn’t want to answer to “outsiders.” The Washing- ton offi ce of the World Wildlife Fund worked with these people and came up with a new idea. They came to the radical conclu- sion that the best solution was to empower the local people. The government fi nally agreed and created a preserve with the hope that the local people would do the environmentally correct thing wherever possible. Incentives were given in every way they could. But the bottom line was that the local people were in full charge of their destiny. Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 GS: How were you involved? GR: I went under the auspices of the World Wildlife Fund—for no fee—and documented the whole project, called the Annapurna Conservation Area Project. I donated free use of the photographs to the World Wildlife Fund, and after I fi nished shooting, I went back and showed it to Geographic . They liked what they saw, I wrote a text, and it appeared in the September ’89 issue. GS: You’re fi nding you don’t have to take no for an answer. GR: Exactly! There are other examples of that sort of thing, but of course I still do assignments. Much of what I feel is my most im- portant work is self-generated and self-promoted. I’m in a better position to do that now than I was in the past. Galen Rowell 235
GS: What turned your life around? GR: It wasn’t really any one thing. If I have to single out one thing I’d probably have to say it was marrying Barbara in 1981. She came up with creative ways to control and manage my career. GS: How did you get started in photography? GR: In 1972 I became a full-time professional photographer. Through- out the late sixties I had been playing with photography, but I had never made more than $1000 a year at it. In 1972, I took the plunge. Before that I earned my living running a small automo- tive business. GS: Your fi rst assignment for the National Geographic was in 1973. GR: That’s right. The story was fi rst published a year later in 1974. I thought that was pretty lucky, but I also had a book contract by the end of 1972, so I was already on my way. From 1972 (after I closed the automotive shop) on through 1981, I operated on the premise that I’d never have an employee again. I would do everything myself; I would be a free person. I had some books and articles published, plus I did a lot of climb- ing. After I was doing pretty well, things became increasingly chaotic. After I married Barbara, she convinced me that our best course was to organize all my endeavors into a business with em- ployees again. We eventually formed a corporation called Moun- tain Light. We now have a total of nine people working, including the two of us. We have two offi ces, our own stock agency, and a gallery to exhibit and sell both of our work. Part of the fi nancial success we’ve been having has been from good organization and a great staff. I’ve come full circle. Now, having employees has given me more time for photography and adventure. GS: What is your favorite wild place? GR: People are always surprised by my answer. They expect me to say some exotic place like the Serengeti Plains, Galapagos Islands, or the Himalayas. But it’s the high Sierra of California, especially Yo- semite, and the southern Sierra. It’s not just that it’s very beautiful. My best work comes out of that region because I feel really good when I’m there. I spent so much time there growing up that I Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 feel a special passion for the land. I think your best photography always happens when you’re feeling a special passion within you. It’s not just the landscape that is recorded on fi lm, it’s my feeling for it, attachment to it, and knowledge about it. GS: Is that where your love of adventure and travel come from? GR: It comes from my very early years. My mother had hiked the John Muir Trail, which was 211 miles in the 1920s, before it was fi nished. As a young woman she climbed many mountains in Yo- semite, and made a fi rst ascent of a hard Sierra peak. She wasn’t climbing when I was growing up, but her same spirit was there and I connected with it. As a family, we went out on annual wil- derness trips with the Sierra Club in the backcountry, away from 236 Galen Rowell
any vehicles for two weeks at a time. We did this every summer from the time I was 10 years old until I was about 20. Those were extraordinary experiences. GS: When did you begin traveling to other countries? GR: After I sold the automotive business I went to Alaska and Canada several times. But I didn’t go to Asia and the Himalaya—where I’ve been 23 times—until 1975. GS: With all the pictures you’ve made, and all the places you’ve been to, what are your favorite images? GR: My favorite images are those which I fi rst create in my own imagination, and then go out to see if I can make in the real world. One classic example of this kind of photograph is my image titled, “Rainbow over the Potala Palace, Lhasa, Tibet, 1981.” The rainbow was over a fi eld far to the side of the palace when I fi rst saw it. The palace was off in the distance, and I saw there was a long sunlit curtain of rain all the way across the valley. I wondered if I could align the rainbow with the palace if I ran diagonally across the valley. I ran almost a mile at 12,000 feet, and just when the rainbow touched the golden roof of the palace a spot of light came down on the palace itself through the cloudy sky. It all came together in an instant. I never would have had that picture unless I had imagined something I was not seeing and then found a way to make it happen. GS: Why do you prefer the 35mm format? GR: Basically, I like the versatility of 35mm photography, plus I want my photographs to be participatory. I don’t want to be a spectator on the sidelines. GS: What motivated you to get your work out there? How did you fi rst go about getting your work published? GR: Well, in the beginning I sent queries to a lot of publications, and could have papered a wall with rejection slips. This was long before I quit my auto business. What helped me get started was doing both photography and writing together. Early on, I had articles published in small magazines and journals. I gradually got the experience of working with editors and doing assign- Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 ments. In the beginning I spent far more time on writing than on photography. GS: What kind of writing? GR: Mainly fi rst-person adventure stories and environmental issues. For example, I did the fi rst national article on the Mono Lake situation—the diverting of the streams that feed the lake into the water supply to Los Angeles, which lowered the lake level and threatened wildlife. I did that for Audubon in 1976. GS: What do you want to convey in your work? GR: An awareness of the beauty of wild places, and the importance of preserving them. Most of my photographs are upbeat, and if I do show negative things, I like it to be in the context of something Galen Rowell 237
that’s happening that’s positive. I want to show what’s being done to solve a problem. I don’t want to beat a dead horse by show- ing problems without solutions. I want to combine the greatest beauty and my greatest passion into a photograph, so that some- one who looks at that image will have that same “Ah-ha!” feeling that stopped me when I made the photograph. GS: You’re promoting an appreciation of wild places through your work. GR: I think so, but there are two schools of thought. On the one hand, if you publish photographs of an area it will attract more people and perhaps damage the area environmentally. On the other hand, by publishing photographs and writing about an area you can create environmental awareness. I remember talking to my father about this a lot. He was a professor of philosophy and had given a lot of thought to ethical and environmental issues. His feelings were that the people who have done the most for the environment in history are those who have talked directly about their experiences. John Muir publicized his experiences and wrote about the places he visited, so has David Brower, the greatest conservationist of this century, who created the Exhibit Format Series of large Sierra Club picture books that have helped save so many wild places. As a wilderness photographer you have lots of options. If you take a picture of a meadow that’s in the high mountains, and caption it as .6 miles from such and such a trail junction, you may have hundreds of photographers going to that exact spot and trampling it. But you can just say something like, “Alpine meadow at timberline, Sequoia National Park.” In this way you disclose the overall area. The specifi c place remains safe from excessive use, especially in wilderness areas of Sequoia National Park, where strict rules and trail quotas keep the wilder- ness reasonably protected. GS: A quote from your book Yosemite might be appropriate here: “Environmental preservation of wild places is rooted in public awareness, and that writing about and photographing wild places helps create an informed electorate who will be moved to protect Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 such places.” GR: Tibet is one of the classic examples of that. While Tibet was closed, nobody knew about it, not much happened, and cer- tainly there was little pressure on the Chinese to preserve the environment or respect human rights. Adventure travelers who went there brought back stories and photographs created the awareness. GS: More people are more environmentally aware now than ever be- fore. Would you agree? GR: Defi nitely, and especially within the past year or two. Virtually all national publications now consider the environment as a main- stream issue. You’re seeing frequent environmental stories in Time , 238 Galen Rowell
Newsweek , and the National Geographic that would never have been there ten years ago. GS: Do you think it’s more prevalent in this country than in foreign countries? GR: Not necessarily. I think foreign countries are, in certain ways, more environmentally aware in the politics of the urban environ- ment than we are here in America. Green parties are stronger in Europe than they are here. I think the future potential is great for photographers who have a good sense of the environment and a passion to save the earth’s last wild places. Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 30 RICK SMOLAN AND DAVID COHEN
Photographer’s Forum , February 1989
Rick Smolan (b. 1949) was 23 years old when he began photographing profession- ally. At 24, he did his fi rst cover assignment for Time magazine, and spent the next 10 years photographing for National Geographic, Time, LIFE, Newsweek, and other publications. In 1975, he helped form Contact Press, a photo agency consisting of other well-known and respected photojournalists. The agency was formed in such a way that photographers could have their own personal projects to work on, when time and money permitted. Smolan has always gotten involved in personal photography projects, sometimes as an outgrowth of his magazine assignments, and other times independent from them. In the past he spent two months on an Indian reservation in South Dakota as a result of a two-day assignment. He stayed on to help set up a children’s relief fund. He tends to get very involved personally with the people he meets through the stories he covers. The idea for the fi rst Day in the Life project (Australia) goes back to the mid 1970s. It was a personal project that ballooned into more than Smolan bar- gained for, keeping him on the run and working at a hectic pace for eight years. David Cohen (b. 1955) was an English major at Yale. After graduating, he attended law school for a year. At the age of 23 he began working for Aperture as a Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 picture editor. He was working at Contact Press when he met Smolan. The Day in the Life Publishing Company (also known as Rand, for Rick and David) was founded by Smolan and Cohen. They launched their fi rst book, A Day in the Life of Australia, in the late 1970s, and for eight years they continued to use this same concept and format for all their books, which all sold over 100,000 copies. In 1988, they sold their company to Collins Publishing Company. Cohen and the staff remain at the core, continuing to publish and expand the company. Smolan is on a leave of absence, photographing his personal projects and exploring a career as a producer of feature fi lms. 240 Rick Smolan and David Cohen
This interview was actually done by telephone between New York and San Francisco, where Collins has moved its publishing headquarters. I interviewed Rick Smolan and David Cohen separately, but for the sake of continuity and conve- nience took the poetic license to weave them together.
GRACE SCHAUB: Rick, you began as a photojournalist. How did you get involved with the Day in the Life projects, which must have been a diver- sion from the more “hard-core” assignments you were used to? RICK SMOLAN: In 1975, a group of us had formed Contact Press Picture Agency. That was just a few years after the fall of Vietnam, and much of the U.S. news media didn’t seem to be interested in many of the stories coming out of Asia at that time. As a result, I requested to be sent there. I was in Asia for fi ve years, not living anywhere, really, just going from assignment to assignment. I like the fact I was problem solving all the time. I enjoyed that, but it got to the point my whole orientation was photographs. In some ways it seemed superfi cial and opportunistic. Whatever situation I was in, I would look for some way to turn it into a picture. After all these years of wandering around, I kept wandering into the same photographers, and realizing the only sense of family I had were with these other photojournalists, and the only continuity many of us had in our lives were each other. Every time we were sent on assignment, all the same men and women would show up. Afterwards, we would sit down, have dinner or a few drinks together, and “talk shop.” I didn’t feel I was growing or changing much as a person, in spite of the fact I was meeting kings and prime ministers, getting shot at—I was in Afghanistan the day the Russians invaded, and was held at gun point for three hours. I was going through all these experiences, but nothing in my life seemed to be changing. GS: How did the idea for the fi rst Day in the Life project come about? RS: My fi rst professional assignment had been for LIFE magazine titled, “One Day in the Life of America.” It was a special issue published on September 4, 1974. One hundred photographers Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 were hired to cover the story. Three years later, in 1977, I was in a bar in Bangkok talking to Philip Jones-Griffi th and a few other photographers. I was thinking about that fi rst assignment and said, “Wouldn’t it be great to take that LIFE magazine idea and do a day in the life of Australia, and stretch it out into a book?” GS: Why Australia? RS: I had been there and felt it was like America must have been at one time—the wild west with cowboys and horses, and fun-loving people. In 1976, I was assigned to do a cover story for Time magazine in Australia. While I was there, I met this beautiful woman who was planning to walk from Alice Springs all the way Rick Smolan and David Cohen 241
to the Indian Ocean—2000 miles away—by herself, with her dog and four camels. She has written a book about the journey called Track . Her name is Robin Davidson. National Geographic hired me to track her down six times during the course of her trip, which took about one year, and walk with her two weeks at a time. GS: You wanted to get back there. RS: I did. I fell in love with the place. First of all, my idea was to give all these photographers, who were my friends, my family, really, a trip to Australia. I knew the Australian government had a program that brought journalists down there. It turned out that they only brought down 12 journalists a year, so my idea of 100 people was absurd. Time went by, and I was sent to Australia on an assignment to cover the prime minister, who as it turned out happened to be a photography enthusiast. He was telling me how many Australians felt left out from the rest of the world because they were tucked away down under. He said the tourism business wasn’t doing very well. GS: A perfect lead in for your project idea? RS: I told him my idea, and he liked it. As prime minister, he felt he couldn’t help with a commercial project, but he could try to open some doors for me. I met with over 20 publishers, and all of them felt, the Day in the Life of Australia project was not a good idea. GS: What was the problem? RS: The cost would be astronomical. I wanted to use photographers from all over the world, have it as a week-long project, where there could be workshops for children and slide show presenta- tions in the evening. They wouldn’t believe all these photojour- nalists would come to one place at one time. They asked, “Who then, would be covering the news in the rest of the world?” GS: Did they fi nally support this project? RS: I couldn’t get a publisher to pay for any of this, so I came up with the idea to do the whole thing with barter. I went to Quantas Airlines and asked if they would give me 150 round-trip tickets. Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 They asked why, and said, “No thank you.” GS: How did you get the project off the ground? RS: I went back ten times—then really thought about it. The next time I went back I told them I would give them 3,000 copies of the book for free, and I’ll make the fi rst page of the book a little message from Quantas. They would have their own private edition in an attractive slip case. This could be used as a VIP gift. They liked that idea. It wasn’t just me with my hand out. We did the same thing with Kodak, Apple Computers, car rental compa- nies, and hotels. GS: It was all done on the barter system? 242 Rick Smolan and David Cohen
RS: We basically had no cash whatsoever! We couldn’t even pay the photographers and the staff. No one who worked on the Austra- lian book got paid any money. GS: The traveling and living expenses were covered by corporate sponsorship. RS: From the beginning, corporate sponsorship and support made it possible for all the Day in the Life projects to be carried out. Ray DeMoulin, general manager of the Professional Photography Di- vision of Eastman Kodak, is a wonderful example of what can be accomplished through cooperation with a corporation. He puts so much support back into the photography community. DAVID COHEN: It wasn’t until last year, which is seven years later, that we fi nally sent everyone a check for $600. A lot of copies were fi nally sold that had been sitting in a warehouse. The Australia book lost a tremendous amount of money, we never thought we would pay off the debts. After seven years we did fi nally pay off everything. GS: The book wasn’t a big seller when it fi rst came out? RS: No, it wasn’t until A Day in the Life of America came out in 1987 that all the other books started selling. But the books were suc- cessful critically, if not fi nancially. GS: You have grown as a publishing company over the years. DC: We have grown tremendously. Within a few years we went from 500,000 books to 6 million, then to 25 million. Now, we are doing 15 to 20 million, which makes us a good medium-size publishing house. We sold over 1 million copies of A Day in the Life of America, and around 100,000 copies each of the other books in the series. GS: How are your books promoted? RS: That’s very important. Kodak spends a lot of money promot- ing and advertising by sending out books to editors, writers, and other people involved in the photography industry. This spreads the word that Kodak supports these projects and is proud of its involvement. DC: The publicity has been great. Everybody who works on the Day in the Life projects is involved with the media. How could such Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 an outstanding group of photographers and editors go unnoticed? RS: The results are, we had a cover on Time magazine, a cover on Newsweek , and 12 pages in the New York Times Sunday Magazine . Why? Because their editors feel they are the proud fathers. GS: David, how did your involvement with the fi rst project evolve? DC: I was working at Contact Press in New York as a picture editor, and I knew Rick through the agency. He was in Australia on as- signment thinking about the Day in the Life of Australia project. He called me up, we discussed it over the phone, and I fl ew down there to help get it organized and off the ground. GS: Are you a good organizer? Rick Smolan and David Cohen 243
DC: Yes, I do tend to have good organizing skills. GS: Were all the Day in the Life projects hard to get started? RS: It’s always hard getting started, but the books have picked up a momentum. There has been so much publicity. People thought we were getting rich. It was so hard to explain that we were broke. I mean, we had no offi ce—I was doing this out of my sister’s loft in SoHo. During the projects, we might live in a suite for two months because we had a sponsored hotel, but the mo- ment the project was over we would be living in our tiny little studio apartments in New York again—no secretaries, no phones or anything. GS: How much time is needed to get these projects off the ground? DC: More than we bargained for. It’s time-consuming, not only to plan book projects but to run a publishing company as well. GS: Do the sponsors demand special consideration and editorial decision? RS: No, that was one of the rules from the very beginning. We would not advertise their products in the books, nor would we give any right to control or censor what pictures we select. In fact, they wouldn’t be able to look at the book until it was on the shelves in bookstores. If you work for Time magazine or the New York Times , you are not allowed to accept free tickets from an airline. But when their photographers worked on our books, they were. GS: Why is that? RS: The reason is we ensure the management of all the magazines and newspapers that we have complete editorial freedom. GS: How does that sit with the sponsors? RS: I think they like it because they have no control, therefore could take no blame. GS: It was out of their hands? RS: There is always one person in each company who would ask, “Is this going to be good for my career, or bad for my career?” It’s a pretty big leap of faith to let 100 photojournalists loose. These are not travel photographers or advertising people. Most of them
Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 are hard-core journalists who are always looking for the worst. I think it’s pretty brave, when you think of companies like Ameri- can Express, for one, who work long and hard to create an image of themselves, and then letting us loose with their name on the front page of our books. GS: How do you edit the take? RS: What I thought would make the most sense would be to hire an international team of editors, as we had hired an international team of photographers. We invited Michael Rand, art director for the London Sunday Times ; Dieter Steiner, director of photography at Stern magazine; Karen Mallarky at Newsweek ; Arnold Drapkin 244 Rick Smolan and David Cohen
at Time ; the presidents of the major picture agencies, Howard Chapnick and Robert Pledge; newspaper people like John Dur- niak; and Rick Clarkson of National Geographic. We wanted this to be the best—in photography, design, editing, and writing. We hired writers from LIFE magazine. GS: What has been the most challenging aspect of these projects for you, David? DC: It’s to take a concept like this, piece it together with phone con- versations, letters, contacts, and setting the stage, so to speak, to make it all happen. GS: Is that also the most satisfying? DC: The most satisfying part is when it all comes together, and the book is published. That’s when I look at it, and say, “Look what we did.” It’s a much more meaningful way to spend time for me than, say, selling stocks and bonds. RS: We want the projects to be fun also. In 1983, I went to Apple Computer and said, “I have $1000 to pay each one of the pho- tographers, but I want to differentiate everything done this week from the rest of the year. Is there any way you would sell us your $3000 computers for $1000 each? You would be putting them into the hands of some very infl uential men and women—the top people in the photo business.” And Apple said, “OK.” So over the last three years we have given away over 600 Macintosh computers. They have now become standard amongst photo- journalists because everyone had been using them. Many of the photographers would never have bought a computer, but now that they have them they are using them. I get calls all the time, telling me how it has totally changed their way of running their business. It’s one of those things I’ve always loved to do—to keep giving people tools instead of money. I just want these “Days” to be a haven in the middle of the insane and hectic schedule most working photojournalists have to keep. It’s the gathering of the tribes—the nomads coming in from the desert. GS: Are the same photographers included each time? DC: It has been an “old friends” network for the most part. We both Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 know a lot of photographers through Contact Press and other agencies and sources. RS: It wasn’t very democratic. Basically, they were personal heroes, friends, and peers. There were three groups: people I’ve always admired; people who earlier in my career I sat outside offi ces with, waiting to show editors our portfolios, and wound up being friends with; and people who remind me of myself when I was getting started, who had the photographic talent but not when it came to selling themselves. The worst part for me is who do you invite back, and who don’t you invite back? Because some people do very well under this type of pressure of a one-day assignment, and others just Rick Smolan and David Cohen 245
don’t do it—it doesn’t work. A lot of people are close friends, or become close friends along the way. I fi nd it very uncomfortable personally to be in the position of playing Solomon, and saying you’re going to come to the party next year, and you’re not. GS: How do new photographers become involved, David? DC: With our new books we are getting “new blood” involved as well. We are actively seeking out newspaper photographers by sending out requests to review portfolios through editors at vari- ous newspapers throughout the country. We feel there are great photographers working on newspaper staffs, and we would like to include them in our future projects. GS: For your new books are you using stock pictures? DC: In some cases we are using stock, but most photographs are shot specifi cally for each project. GS: What do you like about the projects, Rick? RS: I wasn’t trying to do the defi nitive book on Australia, or any of the countries. What I like is the idea you could hold one day in your hands, and whatever happened on that day was the book. If we shot one day earlier or one day later it would be a completely different book. It’s not that the pictures are of famous people or places, or even action-packed pictures. They are fascinating, because the perspective of the photographer is what is most im- portant in these pictures. Most of the time what is happening in the picture is more important, and not the perspective of the photographer who shot it. In some ways, I agree with the critics who say our books are gimmicky and superfi cial ideas. That may be, but what saves it every time are the incredibly talented pho- tographers we have working on these projects. GS: What is it about the projects that draws the photographers? RS: For the photographers who worked on the projects, it was ex- citing. I remember Jay Maisel saying on the Day in the Life of Hawaii, he felt like he was on the fi rst day of his fi rst assignment, because he was competing against all these great photographers, and luck had something to do with it again—you’re in the hands of fate, to an extent. We weren’t looking for the tried-and-true Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 formula pictures. The best pictures in all the Day in the Life books came by coincidence. GS: Weren’t the photographers given specifi c assignments? DC: For the most part, we gave the photographers specifi c assign- ments in specifi c areas. RS: We set things up for them in case they didn’t have anything else, because we don’t want only street photography. But we defi nitely want the photographers to use their own judgment and initiative, and put themselves in the hands of fate, and follow it. DC: We tell the photographers to make “extraordinary pictures of or- dinary events.” GS: Did both of you photograph these projects? 246 Rick Smolan and David Cohen
RS: I shot in all the books—some days were great, others complete duds where nothing happened for me. DC: I am not a photographer, but since the Hawaii project, I’ve been known to carry a camera and shoot pictures. I kept a diary as well. GS: How did you select the countries? RS: Australia was my idea, and America David’s. We all wanted to do the Russian book, and for Canada we were approached by Collins Publishing Company, who had been distributing our Australia book at the time. The Hawaii book was requested by the Hawaiian government to celebrate their 25th anniversary of statehood. GS: One of the most popular books is A Day in the Life of Japan. How was that put together? RS: We were approached by American Express in 1985. They were look- ing for a way to do a fl ashy marketing campaign in Japan to increase their market share of credit cards over there. They came to us and asked if we were interested in doing a Day in the Life of Japan. GS: There was a lot of publicity around that particular project, as I recall. RS: One of the things that happened was the National Television Network (NHK) heard about our project and assigned 100 cam- era crews. Every photographer had at least one fi lm crew, because once NHK did that, all the local television stations decided they also would cover it. And then there were local journalists and the western press. Some of our photographers were like the Pied Piper—they had 15 people trailing behind them while they were trying to do candid photography. GS: You got more cooperation than you wanted for this project? RS: The Japanese were extremely cooperative. At the end of the proj- ect, we sat around one night with the director of the special TV program they were doing on the project. He came over, put his arm on my shoulder, and said, “I want to tell you something. We really think your project is very interesting.” I thanked him, and he said, “In the beginning, we really didn’t think it was very inter- esting at all.” And I said, “You must have thought it was somewhat
Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 interesting to assign 100 camera crews to it.” And he said, “No, no, no! Someday Emperor Hirohito will die. We were using you as an experiment. Whenever Hirohito dies we will do a Day in the Life of Japan—showing the day that the emperor died. We wanted to practice coordinating all of our fi lm crews. We actually have no interest in your project at all.” GS: They were doing a bit of their own problem solving. RS: We thought we understood what was going on, and then found out they had their own agenda. GS: What has been the most satisfying book in the series for you? RS: The Day in the Life of Russia . We were introduced to the Russians by Bill Garrett of National Geographic in 1984, and we met with Rick Smolan and David Cohen 247
them every year for three years talking with them about the pos- sibility of doing this project. They were very polite but nothing ever would come of it. GS: You went on to other projects? RS: In 1986, we did the Day in the Life of America . I didn’t want to do the book, because I thought America was too big, and in 144 pages you couldn’t really capture what this country is like. I was reluctantly talked into it by David and some salespeople. Well, that book went on to sell over 1 million copies. We were told no one had ever sold a million dollars in retail of a $40 book in the American publishing industry. For people to walk into a book- store and stores to order those books in the quantities they did was almost unheard of. That set the stage for the Russian book. We had heard through the grapevine the Russians we were meeting with thought we were too young and unbusinesslike. David and I would go to their meetings in jeans and sneakers. I guess we were not the corporate-types. GS: The Russians were looking to do business with corporate-types? RS: In the Soviet Union, the older you are the more respected you are, and I was in my early 30s, and David was in his earlier 30s. We just looked like two kids, and our presentation wasn’t terribly slick. Basically, I don’t really think they believed we could pull it off. DC: Each year we would come back with another book: the Japan book, the Canada book, the America book. The America book made the cover story for Newsweek . We sent them copies of all the publicity we were receiving. GS: Is that what fi nally changed their minds? RS: We were told what actually made it happen was a group of American kindergarteners went to the Soviet Union for Christ- mas in 1986 and presented Gorbachev with a copy of the Day in the Life of America. He said that he loved the book and wanted to see Russia through the eyes of these same people. GS: How did the negotiations with the Russians go? Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 RS: They wanted to control the book. They wanted only Soviet pho- tographers, with a tiny contingent of foreigners; we ended up with 50 percent Russian photographers. David did most of the negotiations. GS: Did they want to approve all the pictures before you left the country? RS: They wanted to, but luckily you can’t develop Kodachrome over there. What began as a big point ended up not being one at all because of the fi lm. GS: Did they sit in on the editing? RS: We let them sit in on the edit. Three out of ten editors were from the Soviet Union. But in some ways, the way we do these books 248 Rick Smolan and David Cohen
is like a Communist election. Everyone can say whatever they want about the pictures, but when it comes down to it David and I decide what pictures go in the book. We said, “You guys can do your own version of the book for Soviet-bloc countries. We’ll give you all the pictures. But if this book is going to be taken seriously by anybody, you can’t have any fi nal control over it. Otherwise the whole thing will be suspect.” And they agreed to that. GS: Did you do the editing in the Soviet Union? RS: No, we edited the book in Madrid. We actually did two books, Russia and Spain , back to back with two different staffs. The rea- son was we were afraid the Russians would try to pull something at the last minute and change the rules. After months and months of work we couldn’t afford to pull out and hand them the project. By doing Spain at the same time, we could have cancelled the whole project in Russia, pulled back into Spain, and only been hurt in a small way. We would have lost all the money we spent on the Russian project, but would have had another book to earn back some of that loss. In the end there was no need to use our back-up plan. DC: What I learned from the Russian book is if we can bring 100 photographers, as diverse a group of individuals as any, to the Soviet Union and make something happen like the Day in the Life project, where we managed to cut through the red tape and bureaucracy, and get to know people on the level we do, that the governments should be able to come to some understanding with each other as well. GS: Do you enjoy the travel involved in your work? DC: Yes, and what I like best is working closely with people in other countries, not as a tourist but in a daily working relationship. GS: Are you planning another Day in the Life book? DC: Yes, China. In conjunction with the Great Wall Publishing Company. GS: When will that happen? DC: We are planning to shoot April 21, 1989, and hope to have the Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 book out by October. GS: Are the Chinese receptive to your project? DC: Yes. We completed negotiations over there, and they hosted an elaborate banquet in our honor. I ate and drank things I never would have considered previously. They served bear meat, sea slugs, whole deep-fried featherless birds, and they have a drink called a Mai-Tai that is the strongest drink I ever had. GS: Do you think you can oversaturate the market with these books? RS: The public and the bookstores may be getting tired of it. It’s very hard to keep seeing these books fresh for me. To be honest, I’m sort of tired of it. It’s been eight years—and it’s been Rick Smolan and David Cohen 249
fun. I think we accomplished a lot and feel like the idea should end on a high note. I think the Day in the Life books will be even more appeal- ing 30 years from now. Wouldn’t you love to see a book, now, of America 30 years ago? How people dressed, what the cars looked like. My biggest regret is the Australia book is out of print for four years. It is still my favorite book. What satisfi es me the most now is that I am still sending out checks to the photographers who probably never thought we would pay off our debt, let alone write royalty checks to them. GS: One book seems to have been the outgrowth of another. RS: Exactly, we never really had this master plan to do a book series. I took a leave of absence from the company to work on some other projects. Somehow I realized about a year ago that for the last year I had been spending most of my time with lawyers and ac- countants, and it’s not fun anymore. I don’t get much time to spend with photographers or pictures. I am not a good offi ce person. I like being out there. I like feeling like things can happen by ac- cident, to put your life on a different course. What I’ve been doing for the last few years is to control what goes on. I love the people at the company we formed. My regret is that I won’t be working with them. They are wonderful people and all my best friends. In some ways, I guess I’ve created a family of people, and we all have been traveling around the world together. I am offi cially on sabbatical. It needs new energy. Some of the new people are totally ex- cited about it. I’m sure it will continue. We sold our company to Collins Publishers, and David will continue here. He is interested in running a publishing company. GS: What are the advantages to selling to Collins, David? DC: The Collins acquisition gives us more time and the creative free- dom we wanted to continue our projects. Collins has kept it pretty much the same. They feel, why change the faucets if the plumbing still works? We can take bigger risks with Collins be- hind us for future projects. Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 GS: What are some of those projects? DC: We are producing books of global interest with mass appeal, such as The Jews in America , and Christmas in America . Other projects by Collins include The Wall, which is about the Vietnam Veterans Memorial, and Raghu Rai, a book on the Indian photographer. GS: What are your plans, Rick? RS: I am very interested in the fi lm business. I have friends who are encouraging me to work with them producing feature fi lms. What I have been doing the last few years is raising $2 million a year for each book from private companies, and then getting several hundred people with huge egos to work together, which 250 Rick Smolan and David Cohen
my friends in the fi lm business tell me is exactly like working in the movies. GS: Do you have any personal photography projects in mind? RS: I’ve been working on one project for the last 11 years, and that’s probably the most important thing in my life. When I was work- ing in Korea for Time , in 1978, just when I was trying to get the Day in the Life of Australia project started, I was doing a story about a little girl there who was fathered by an American GI and abandoned in Korea. While I was doing the story, this little girl was being raised by her grandmother. She was 11 years old, and she was left to me in her grandmother’s will. Her grand- mother died about a month after I was there. I went back to Korea, picked her up, and brought her to my best friend who is my age but took an entirely different route with his life—he has four children, a good family man, and lives in Atlanta, Georgia. He runs a construction business. He and his wife adopted the little girl, and I have been doing the story about her life, both when she was in Korea and here. I would like to do a book about her. People are interested in buying the rights to the story. She’s 21 years old now, and it’s just a wonderful story—that’s probably been the most satisfying thing in my life, and I am dying to see what she is going to do with her life—she’s so smart. GS: What is your advice for new photographers? DC: Find a topic that is really important to you and spend a lot of time with it, then bring it around to editors. Rather than a port- folio that has a little of this and a little of that, it’s better to have one good meaningful story. RS: The thing that impresses me the most when people want to work on my books is that they didn’t wait for someone else to tell them what’s important to them. They found that out by themselves. Passion means a lot. You can see it in a photographer’s pictures. You know when something really touched him or her. GS: Would you advise photography schools to aspiring pros? DC: As far as schools are concerned, some of the best photographers have had no schooling and are self-taught, and then there are Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 those who have gone to the top photography and journalism schools in the country. You make your own choice. RS: I don’t think school for photography is the way to do it. What I’ve been telling people is to fi nd something you really care about, go out and buy 100 rolls of Tri-X, spend one month shooting it, then start showing it to editors. GS: Self-motivation is important for both of you? RS: It is very unusual to fi nd photographers who are self-motivated. I basically think if people are motivated enough to go out, take a month and shoot their own pictures, edit them and show them to me, they are going to do a hell of a job for me when I tell them Rick Smolan and David Cohen 251
what I want. What editors are looking for is not always brilliance. They are looking to see how many different ways you can tackle one problem. Editors don’t want to see 45 brilliant pictures of different subjects. When they assign you, they are also on the line. If you mess up, you are affecting their relationship with their own magazine, and it’s something that I learned very quickly as a young photographer, that the editor sitting across from me at his desk is asking himself if he hires me, whether or not I am going to be a credit to his career or a detriment. They are as anxious to get ahead in the world as the photographers are. Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 This page intentionally left blank Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 31 JOYCE TENNESON
Photographer’s Forum , February 1991
It took Joyce Tenneson (b. 1945) fi ve years to go from teaching photography at the Corcoran School of Art in Washington, D.C., to becoming one of this country’s most sought-after photographers. Prior to gaining national attention, Tenneson had been a well-known fi ne art photographer in Washington, D.C., where she lived. She also achieved recognition in Europe where she has traveled and worked frequently. But it wasn’t until 1985, when she left her teaching post in D.C., opened a studio in New York, and sought commercial assignments, that she realized there was a much larger audience for her work. Her photography has been featured in major magazines and art journals through- out the world. She’s had over 100 gallery shows and has her work in numer- ous books. Prior to this interview they included In/Sights: Self-Portraits by Women (Godine, 1978), Joyce Tenneson: Photographs (Godine, 1984), and Au-Delà (Contre- jour, 1989, Paris). After this interview she created many more books, including Joyce Tenneson: Transformations (1993), Illuminations (1998), Light Warriors (2000), Wise Women: A Celebration of Their Insights, Courage, and Beauty (2001), and Amazing Men: Courage, Insight, Endurance (2004). Her most recent book is Shells: Nature ’ s Exquisite Creations (2011). Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 Tenneson has achieved international recognition for her personal work, haunt- ingly beautiful portraits and fi gure studies that possess a psychological and emo- tional edge. In 1989 she received the Infi nity Award from the International Center of Photography and in 2005 the Lucie Award for Professional Fine Art Photogra- pher of the Year. In 2012 she was awarded a Lifetime Achievement Award from the Professional Photographers of America. Tenneson is attracted to her models by an inner beauty or quality she wishes to project, and she selects and arranges props to enhance her own unique creative visions. The resultant images exude an ethereal presence that can be mystifying, 254 Joyce Tenneson
mesmerizing, and sometimes disturbing. She has made many images using the Pola- roid 20 × 24 camera. Tenneson’s commercial assignments and personal work keep her busy through- out the year, but she still makes time to serve as mentor to many aspiring photog- raphers through the lectures and workshops she conducts several times a year in various cities in the United States and abroad.
GRACE SCHAUB: Teaching has always been an important part of your life, hasn’t it? JOYCE TENNESON: Yes it has. I get very involved emotionally when I teach. I care about my students, worry about them, and I’m interested in what they do both during the workshop and afterwards. I try to be as alert, aware, and sensitive as I can to their needs. After meeting, spending time, and talking with students—plus a little intuition—I begin to see how I can facilitate their opening up to another level of awareness and creativity. And I think if you start opening somebody up and exposing them to another world, you just don’t drop them after the class is over. You have to follow through, and that’s a responsibility. Growing is pain- ful, and there are often setbacks, and if you’re the person who is initiating all that I feel there should be a commitment. GS: How do the students respond? JT: One thing I’ve really loved over the last couple of years is how the men in my workshops respond to my work and to photographing the nude. I don’t know whether my work has changed or men have changed, but in the early years it was mostly women who gravitated to my work. And now I’d say there’s an equal representation of both men and women in my classes. People from all walks of life take my workshops. I had three men in a recent workshop who were so sensi- tive. One was an oceanographer, another a retired accountant, and the third a lawyer. They really expanded and grew dur- ing that workshop. I think there is something in the air now for men. I think more men are looking for an experience to help open them up creatively. There’s a desire for this kind of Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 communication—they’re looking for a bridge. I feel such em- pathy for men, and have such good feelings toward them. GS: You were a well-known fi ne art photographer in Washington, D.C., yet you opened a studio in New York. JT: One reason I came to New York was I wanted to get away from being known strictly as a “Washington” artist. It’s upsetting in our country, because if you’re in New York and you get re- viewed in a New York publication, you’re known as a national artist. But when you think about it, Washington is the capital, and the Washington Post is a very sophisticated newspaper. I was on the front page of the Style section, had feature articles on Joyce Tenneson 255
me and my work—maybe ten times—and I was always written up as a Washington artist. I also felt I wasn’t growing anymore in Washington. I wasn’t being challenged. I’d been teaching for 15 years, and I loved it, but I had done it. I had taught art and photography on different levels, and I worked my way up to the best art teaching position I could. And now I wanted to try making a living in some other way. GS: Was it hard establishing yourself in New York? JT: When I fi rst came to New York, in 1985, I didn’t know anybody. I didn’t even have a commercial portfolio to show prospective clients. I didn’t have one tear sheet! I walked into clients’ offi ces with my fi ne art portfolio. In retrospect, I think if I knew what I was really doing at that time, I never would have done it. It would have been too frightening. I was foolhardy. GS: But eventually you did very well? JT: I think what helped me a lot was the time I spent in Europe. I speak French fl uently, and taught in the south of France most summers for the past 15 years. I think my work was really ap- preciated there early on. GS: What kept you going in New York? JT: Something in me said, “Be true to yourself.” And that also was probably foolhardy, because I could have jumped on certain bandwagons. But somehow I just decided to do what I believed in, and if it worked out it did, and if it didn’t, it didn’t. GS: Was it diffi cult getting work when you fi rst came to New York? JT: For the fi rst nine months I didn’t get any work. On the week- ends, in Washington, I did portraits to make the money. I knew I could make a certain amount of money doing portraits every weekend—and I just about broke even. GS: What is it that attracts you to the nude as subject matter? JT: I’m fascinated with the nude. It has been one of the great themes in art since the beginning of time, and I think I under- stand why it is eternally fascinating to me. I can’t imagine doing the pictures I do with people clothed. What I try to do is cap- ture something essential. I use skullcaps on my models for this Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 reason. What I’m really interested in is conveying an emotional essence. It’s not intellectualized—I have a concept, but when I’m shooting it sort of just happens. I’m passionate about what I do; I love it so much when it’s working for me. GS: What do you want to evoke emotionally in your images? JT: There is a lot going on in my images. The best ones are very complicated psychologically. GS: Are they refl ections of yourself? JT: My images are autobiographical in a certain way, but then at one point I hope they are universal. GS: How much preparation is involved in what you do? 256 Joyce Tenneson
JT: I prepare a lot. I work on all the props and backgrounds. Ev- erything I use is unique and individual. I get a whole bunch of things together and people together and when I start shooting, when I’m on, things magically appear through the lens. When things really work well I think it’s a combination of having set the stage, having been prepared, and having a certain amount of raw elements. It’s almost like cooking—you have all the right ingredients, you’re trained, and if somehow you’re open to it all you should get something good at the end. But in a way it’s still a mystery how all those things come together. When you work you’re not always inspired, and what comes out isn’t always a great piece. There are days when you can work with all the same elements and have a good day, but it’s really sort of a grade B day. Then there are days when you really do pictures that last, and last, and last, and you know immediately there’s a greater resonance. Those days cannot be willed into existence. GS: It’s more than a combination of control, chance, and mastering your craft. JT: At a certain point there is a certain grace that descends. I think it’s that way in all forms of art. There was an interview I read with Fellini, and he said, “It’s moments.” You can do ten per- formances, and all of a sudden you go through a performance where you can feel the magic all around you, and those mo- ments can last you for months or years—just remembering them. That’s what I feel in my best work, and everybody in- volved knows something special is happening. But you can’t will that into existence by saying today this masterpiece is going to unfold in front of me. GS: Do you work every day? JT: Yes. If I’m not shooting I’m thinking, making things, looking at past work, or searching out new people for models. It’s kind of like this bubbling pot that’s always on the burner. GS: With commercial assignments, do you have the freedom to bring your ideas to fruition? JT: I do. I try to give what I can, but usually in all commercial as- Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 signments you aren’t really free. Clients don’t often want the depth that I’m interested in. They want a very surface kind of beauty, not the psychological drama or unsettling quality that I think a lot of really great art has. They just want a very simple solution. GS: Has that changed your approach? JT: I have a clear break between what I do for myself and what I do for commercial clients. And I understand where they’re coming from—their job is promoting or representing their products in the best way. I think there are a lot of commercial Joyce Tenneson 257
photographers who show the work they do commercially as their art work. I don’t, and will never do that. For me, there is a big difference between the two. To me there is no edge to commercial work—there isn’t any great depth. GS: There’s a lot of interest in your work in New York now. JT: Yes. Luckily I was there at the right time. Art directors love to work with artists now because they’re interested in more cre- ative problem solving. In the past, many people felt if you were an artist then maybe you couldn’t hack the deadlines, budgets, and business pressures associated with commercial photogra- phy. But I can handle that. I think maybe it’s because of the way I was brought up. I’m used to working within certain confi nes and timeframes. I have no problem with that, as long as I can have my own time. You do what you need to do to survive, and then you have your “secret garden.” When I was growing up that was my favorite book. And in a way, I think what I do now is to create my own world, and that secret world unfolds in front of my camera. GS: It must make you feel wonderful to know so many people ap- preciate your secret garden. JT: It does, and increasingly so. The last two or three years I’ve been totally shocked by the response I’m getting from my work. When I give a lecture people are often moved to tears, and write me warm letters afterwards. It’s very rewarding, be- cause for a long time I thought no one would ever understand what I did—I was just working for myself. And you have to do it for yourself—that’s what makes it unique and ultimately important. GS: What are the sources of inspiration for your work? JT: When I’m shooting something happens between me and the person I am photographing. If I’m lucky something special happens. GS: You make it happen? JT: In a way, but I’m not forcing it. It’s sort of “being there.” I pre- pare as much as possible, I try and create an atmosphere, and if Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 I’m lucky everything starts coming together, and all I have to do is record it. GS: Have you always worked with the human fi gure? JT: Yes. But recently I’ve been doing these ethereal still lifes with bones and plaster that just fl oat in space. Even though I’m not using the fi gure they still look like my work. There’s something about the fl oating quality that has a sense of the spirit. GS: Creativity and spirituality are very closely connected for many artists. Would you talk about this connection in your life and work? 258 Joyce Tenneson
JT: I think creativity and spirituality are very close. There is a great striving toward transcendence in most creative people. But the minute you mention religion you think of an organized busi- ness, which is unfortunate because our culture is starved for spiritual beauty. It’s a good sign that we’re striving toward that as a culture, but too bad that our organized religions have failed us in so many cases. GS: What have you learned about yourself through your work? JT: I feel so privileged to have had the journey that I have. There was a lot of pain involved in the past years, but I feel I’ve learned a lot about myself and other people. I feel free! I don’t feel any gloating success—I think free is the word. I’m with people I like, and if I have a friendship, it’s based on something very deep. If I’m working for myself—and certainly there are some as- signments that have some compromises—but when I’m work- ing for myself, it’s a very pure kind of effort, and if people like it, fi ne, and if they don’t, fi ne. GS: Can you offer some advice to our readers? JT: How many people wake up very late in life realizing they’ve blown their whole life away? They may have lots of money and have material wealth, but haven’t had those important relation- ships they still yearn for, or haven’t developed the inner self and don’t really know who they are. That’s an awful thing to wake up to. I’m very grateful to have had opportunities for growth both personally and professionally. GS: Five years ago you vowed you would be at the top of your pro- fession by this time, and you achieved that goal. Where do you see yourself in another fi ve years? JT: I’m working on a new book to be published in 1992, as well as a show at the International Center of Photography in New York, which will travel to other cities. I’m beginning to get involved in fi lm and writing. I’d like to push myself in new di- rections and follow a dream I have of telling a story that inspires people and enriches them in a spiritual way … but this could Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 take years. What is important, I have realized, is not what you achieve, but what has happened on the journey. The challenge is to have the courage to follow your dreams, wherever they may lead. 32 GEORGE TICE
Photographer’s Forum , September 1989
Prints and portfolios of the work of George Tice (b. 1938) are in private collections and public museums throughout the world, including the Museum of Modern Art and the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York, the Art Institute of Chicago, and the Bibliothèque Nationale in Paris. While serving in the Navy, Tice photographed an explosion aboard the aircraft carrier WASP. The photograph was widely published. It so impressed Edward Stei- chen, who at the time was curator of photography at MoMA, that he acquired a print for the museum’s collection. Tice was honored with a one-man show at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in 1972, where an exhibition of prints from his book, Paterson (Rutgers, 1972), was held. In 1978, his work was featured in “Mirrors and Windows,” a traveling exhibition curated by John Szarkowski for MoMA. Tice was commissioned to pho- tograph Liberty Park, New Jersey, by the Department of Architecture at MoMA, where an exhibition of that work was held in 1979. He won a National Endow- ment for the Arts Fellowship and a Guggenheim Fellowship, and was awarded the Grand Prix at Arles, France in 1973, for Paterson . Tice’s photographs document the essence of and changes within both urban Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 and natural landscapes. Some of the places he has explored with his camera include Paterson, New Jersey, “the cradle of American industry”; Pennsylvania Dutch farm- lands; the sea coast of Maine; and Bodie, a ghost town in California. At the time of this interview Tice’s other books included Goodbye, River, Goodbye (1971, with George Mendoza); George A. Tice: Photographs 1953–1973 (1975); Artie Van Blarcom: An Extended Portrait (1977); Urban Romantic: The Photographs of George Tice (1982); Seacoast Maine, People and Places (1982, with Martin Dibner); Lincoln (1984); and Hometowns: An American Pilgrimage: James Dean ’s Fairmont, Indiana; Ron- ald Reagan ’ s Dixon, Illinois; Mark Twain ’ s Hannibal, Missouri (1988). Since then he has published Fields of Peace: A Pennsylvania German Album (1998, with Millen Brand); 260 George Tice
Urban Landscapes (2002); Paterson II (2006, with A.D. Coleman); and Seacoast Maine: Photographs by George Tice (2008).
GRACE SCHAUB: How did you train your eye to recognize a good print? GEORGE TICE: I think from just doing it. GS: Do you think how you see tonal range in a black and white print is innate in a person, or can it be learned? GT: I would say it’s just from the actual experience of doing it that you develop your eye for printing. GS: And you’ve had a lot of printing experience, haven’t you? GT: My fi rst job when I was 16 was as a darkroom assistant devel- oping and printing baby pictures for a portrait photographer. I would handle as many as 40 or 50 prints of different images—all in the developer at the same time. I would just pull them out and put them into the acid bath when I thought they were right. When I was in the service, I was stationed at the Naval Air Station in Memphis. I had a part-time job printing for a local photographer who would somehow just guess at his exposures, and then give the negatives to me to salvage what he had done. I remember him telling me I had the best eye for knowing when a print was ready to be pulled out of the developer than anybody he’d ever known—that always stuck in my mind. I’ve been printing my own work for a long time. And since 1980 I’ve been printing the Steichen Portfolios—some 8000 prints. I am sure all of this experience has added to my expertise. I am a visual person, and my medium is black and white, and I’ve learned to see photographs and read negatives I like. GS: What did you learn from printing the Steichen Portfolios? GT: I learned that if I make, say, 132 prints, none are going to be identical. I learned there is a range to a picture—and knowing this is how light it can be and still be a good print, and this is how dark it can be. There is a narrow range, and every time you print a negative it’s going to come out differently. GS: Even if you control all the variables? GT: There are just too many variables to control. You aim to do it, Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 and you strive to do it, but the prints are not going to come out exactly the same. So I learned there is a range of acceptability when production printing more than 100 prints. GS: What do you look for when you print? GT: The idea is to bring out most of the information in the negative—you’re not going to get it all, the negative will always contain more information, like shadow detail. I would say the ideal is more to separate everything tonally in the picture within a full scale so that you have black, white, and everything else, and so that there are no big black holes or no big white holes of empty information in the picture. George Tice 261
GS: Do you feel honored to have been selected to print Steichen’s negatives? GT: I felt privileged. I was Steichen’s last printer while he was alive, and that’s why his widow asked me to print his portfolios. GS: What was it like working with him? GT: I only saw him on a few occasions. I was his printer just for the last year of his life. He was 94 years old when he died, but he looked pretty good. He didn’t seem very sick. GS: Were you given specifi c instructions on how to print his negatives? GT: His work was kept at MoMA. If the museum wanted a print they would contact me, and I would come in and pick up the negative. Quite often there would be a guide print attached to it, or a copy of his book, A Life in Photography, as the guide, and I would try to make a print that looked similar to that reproduction. GS: You teach a course in printing at the New School for Social Re- search in New York City and at several photography workshops throughout the country. What do you try to give your students? GT: I try to simplify things. I try to teach them how to make critical decisions, and try to erase the misinformation they have been taught by instructors I didn’t teach. I give them more to consider, and I think they know more about what they are doing and at- tempting to do than they did before I got hold of them. Every- body who takes a course or a workshop with me will be a better printer within a very short time, and I think that’s the idea. GS: Who encouraged you to pursue photography? GT: I was encouraged in camera clubs at a very young age, because I did well there. GS: When did you join your fi rst camera club? GT: In 1953, I joined the Carteret Camera Club in Carteret, New Jersey. Camera clubs were all that was happening for me when I was 14 years old and growing up in New Jersey. GS: How were you encouraged? GT: I entered their competitions and won trophies for my photographs. GS: What did you learn in camera clubs? GT: Everything! I got a sense of what a traditional fi ne photographic
Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 print was. I learned all the rules of good composition—not that I follow those rules these days. The camera clubs I belonged to had a lot of very good photographers as members. The Valesburg Camera Club was one of the leading clubs in the New York met- ropolitan area. They held several inter-club competitions. When I was 14 and 15 years old, camera clubs were great for me, and when I came out of the Navy at 21, it was just fi ne. But when there was nobody left to compete with, and I felt I learned all I could there, I moved on. GS: Camera clubs, then, were a good place for you to get feedback on your photography. 262 George Tice
GT: They were the only places where I would get feedback. There were no show places or galleries back then—that didn’t happen until the late sixties. When I made prints for camera club compe- titions, I always meant them to be fi ne art photographs. GS: When was your fi rst gallery show? GT: In 1965, at the Underground Gallery on East Tenth Street in New York City. Very few museums showed photography. The Museum of Modern Art (MoMA) in New York was one. There just wasn’t a lot going on until the late sixties, when Lee Witkin opened his gallery—that was a kind of beginning for it. GS: When did you meet Lee Witkin? GT: I met him in 1967, and he opened his gallery in ’68 or ’69. GS: What were you doing at that time? GT: My idea was to create a job that didn’t exist—the artist- photographer. I wanted to do my own work and sell my prints to support my photography—and that’s what I’ve been doing for the past 20 years. GS: Was it fi nancially diffi cult to support yourself? GT: For a stretch of time I worked during the day as a baby photog- rapher. And when I wasn’t, I was an artist-photographer. I always pursued my own work—at night, on weekends, and whenever possible—which was landscapes, urban and natural. I steered away from people, because I did that during the week. GS: Were there other infl uences on your work? GT: There were salon photographers who exhibited in salons when I was a kid, and they made these big 16 × 20 prints. At the time I was printing with a $10 slide projector and living in a small house trailer. I thought, “Gee, if only I could make prints like that.” GS: Were there any photographers who inspired you along the way? GT: When I saw an Ansel Adams print it was an inspiration for me to use an 8 x 10 view camera and improve my print quality. Ansel Adams was a sort of measure, although I wasn’t aiming for that. My sensibilities about the print were a bit softer than his were—he’s a bit too contrasty for me. But other than that, he was someone to look up to in terms of a fi ne print. I’ve known and
Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 admired his work since the late fi fties from photo magazines. I admired the precision he was getting with a view camera and the quality of his prints—it was the ultimate combination. GS: Do you feel a kinship with Walker Evans? GT: Oh, yes. Walker Evans is a hero of mine. I met him and spoke with him on one occasion. His work was a big infl uence on my photography, that is, the idea of documenting a place. I think Edward Weston’s idea was more art, whereas Evans’ art was the document. I took from both of them. I know the fact that I use an 8 x 10 view camera was because Edward Weston did, and I’m sure there are people today who use one because of me. George Tice 263
GS: Your book, Hometowns , about the hometowns of James Dean, Ronald Reagan, and Mark Twain, is certainly a documentary project. Could you talk about how that idea evolved for you? GT: I think the idea of juxtaposing the hometowns of these three unrelated but famous people is the best idea I ever had. Actually, I envisioned it and foresaw it as a book from the very beginning. GS: It seems like an enormous project to undertake. How much time went into it? GT: It took about fi ve years before it came out. GS: It must have required a great deal of research. GT: Yes, I researched my three subjects extensively. I think I might have read almost everything Mark Twain had written. I read Ronald Reagan’s early biography twice, as well as his own writ- ings. There are several biographies and pieces written on or by James Dean himself that I read through. GS: Through all your readings they must have seemed like “old friends” after a while? GT: I wanted the places I photographed to be their places, places they could identify with. And if they saw my pictures, which Rea- gan did—and his letter is hanging on my wall—they would have meaning to each of them. GS: As you walked through the streets of each town, did your subjects come to mind? GT: Yes. I wanted to show the towns as they exist today, but it’s slanted in relationship to my three subjects. There were many times when I felt the specifi c location I chose to photograph had special sig- nifi cance for my subject. Like a Geiger counter I became “hot” in certain locations. I could feel the spirit of these three people in their hometowns when I was there. And if you believe in these things, they work. GS: How much time did you spend in each town? GT: When I’m working and photographing a project such as Home- towns , I’m very much into what I’m doing. I take my time. I’d drive out to the Midwest, and usually hit Fairmont, Indiana fi rst. I’d stay there for a while—actually, until I couldn’t stand it any-
Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 more. There were times I would be so tired of driving around looking at the same streets and buildings. After several visits there was less and less for me to photograph. I didn’t want to repeat what I had already done. I wasn’t going to photograph Main Street again, because I did Main Street, and there ain’t much there! GS: Is James Dean a hero in Fairmont? Is there a legacy there? GT: It’s taken them years and years to do anything about Dean in Fairmont. The farm he grew up on is still a family-run farm, and not so different than it was when he was alive. It’s been 30 years since Dean died. Only in recent years has the town had any sense 264 George Tice
of honoring him. But Fairmont is a Quaker town, and Quakers really don’t make saints out of their populous—they don’t grow people up that way. GS: How important is James Dean, and why did you include him in this project? GT: I think you can see Dean’s infl uence all over this country. When- ever I look at youth I can see something that may have evolved down from Dean. If Dean hadn’t existed, young male actors wouldn’t be acting quite the same. Anybody who has ambitions of being an actor has learned some lesson from him. GS: Were the three towns very similar? GT: All three are small Midwestern towns, and each has a famous personality who grew up there, and nobody can forget that for a minute. GS: Is there a sense of pride? GT: Most of the time it’s pride. A little of that glory rubs off on them. GS: What was your next stop after Fairmont—Dixon, Illinois or Hannibal, Missouri? GT: From Fairmont I’d move on to Dixon for a few days, then go on to Hannibal. I just about photographed everything in Hannibal, because it’s such a small town. I traveled out there with several books on my subjects and would become immersed in reading about them at night in my hotel room. When I came back home to New Jersey, I would develop my fi lm, make prints, and put them into a dummy book, and continue reading. Mark Twain is just such a pleasure to read. GS: Twain was a writer and Dean an actor, and both have a my- thology surrounding them. But Reagan seems to be a political choice. Is that true? GT: Politics don’t get into it at all. I greatly admire these three people. I call them heroes. Most any father and mother would like to have a son like Ronald Reagan. He’s an ideal. He was a success from “go”—president of his class in school, president of the mo- tion picture industry, and president of the United States. Reagan had it in the back of his mind all the while to be president of the Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 U.S., and I’m sure at quite an early age. People have brought this up before—I’ve heard interviews with those who knew him at an early age. GS: Have you been involved in other projects since Hometowns ? GT: Since Hometowns I photographed architecturally signifi cant banks for the Museum of Fine Arts in Houston, which will be exhib- ited there in 1990. For that project I used a 6 x 9 view camera, because I can work much faster with a smaller camera, and it’s portable equipment I can carry myself. A smaller view camera has interchangeable bellows so you can use a super wide-angle lens, and raise that lens up to get the entire building, whereas you are George Tice 265
somewhat limited with the 8 × 10 view camera as far as photo- graphing tall buildings. GS: Most of your projects are self-generated rather than commis- sioned, correct? GT: Yes, it’s rare to be given a commissioned project. Most of my projects are my own ideas, and since I’m not being paid to do my own projects, like my books, I have to think it a pretty important thing for me to do—almost a mission. Because a book project, for instance, takes a few years of my life to do, and all expenses are out-of-pocket. So I really have to feel a sense of mission. GS: Do you prefer the book format as a vehicle for your photography? GT: With a book you reach a much larger audience. Books also be- come catalogs for prints. If you do a portfolio, it’s usually a limited edition of prints, say, 50 or 100 sets, whereas thousands of books are printed. Well, you get the greatest glory when you are a pub- lished author—you have recognition, and your work becomes highly considered. GS: Books are more readily available to the public also. GT: I had a show at MoMA in 1979, but if you went there now you wouldn’t see a trace of me—outside a poster somewhere in the building. The show has been over for years. GS: The text for Hometowns is an important part of that book—it might get overlooked on the walls of a gallery. GT: No one is going to stand around and read a book on the wall. They’ll read a label or two. But the text is part of the book. An- other thing, if you put those three towns up as one show, unless you do it skillfully and separately, it looks like it could be all one town. With the book format, in sequence, you get more of the feeling that these are three distinct places. GS: What do you look to present in your photographs? GT: I’m presenting things somewhat objectively. There are no politi- cal purposes or causes in what I do, although that can be read into my work. My photographs aren’t slanted, and if they are it’s very subtle. There are three themes I work in my photographs, which I worked in Paterson and continue to work, and they are: man, Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 environment, and nature. GS: What’s your next project going to be? GT: Hometowns dominated my mind for fi ve years. It was the most important thing in my life. In part, what supported Hometowns and my other book projects since 1980, was printing the Steichen portfolios—which in itself was an enormous task. Now, I’m able to put my time into my own work again, and one of the things I’ve been doing is printing a body of my own work. I’ve had re- quests for prints I haven’t had time to fi ll until now. It’s a relief for me not to have a project to work on. I do have a future project in mind, but with all this darkroom work, it will have to wait. 266 George Tice
It’s hard to go out and do new work, and then manufacture a body of work that you can sell to support that new work. It’s always that kind of balance. And when you are in the darkroom all the time, you’re trying to get out and do something new with your camera. I do this all the time, full-time. But still the most important thing is that if you have an idea, to get out and do your work, because to have something to work on is very exciting. Right now, I’m spending my time in the darkroom working on prints for shows and print orders, and sales have been good. But as soon as the nice weather starts I’m going to want to get out in it and do something—anything. Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 33 PETE TURNER
Photographer’s Forum , November 1988
Pete Turner (b. 1934) is much admired for his creative use of deeply saturated colors, his graphic sense, and his vivid, often surreal imagination. He started his profes- sional career in 1958, and his early editorial work appeared in numerous national magazines. His fi rst book, Pete Turner: Photographs (Harry Abrams, 1987), came out right before this interview was conducted and featured 100 of his top photographs. Other books include Pete Turner: African Journey (2001) and The Color of Jazz: Album Cover Photographs by Pete Turner (2006), a collection of his record album covers that includes classics such as Stan Getz’s Focus , Oliver Nelson’s Blues and the Abstract Truth, and the John Coltrane Quartet’s Africa/Brass . Turner graduated from the Rochester Institute of Technology (RIT) in Roch- ester, New York, along with classmates Bruce Davidson and Jerry Uelsmann, and the George Eastman House in Rochester now houses the archives of his work. His photographs are in the permanent collections of the George Eastman House, the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and the International Center of Photography in New York. He has also received over 250 awards from the Art Director’s Club of New York and was the recipient of the Outstanding Achievement in Photography Award from ASMP. Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 Since 1966 Turner has been “bending” reality with his “second-generation orig- inals,” creative combinations of slide images and hypersaturated images that defi ed then-current fi lm technology and in many ways anticipated computer-aided imag- ing today. While much of his work was created using a slide-duplication machine and various fi lters and techniques, at the time of this interview he had just begun working with a Hell Chromacon, the state-of-the-art of its day for digital image manipulation.
GRACE SCHAUB: What are the effects of the new technology on photography, and on your own work? 268 Pete Turner
PETE TURNER: Most photographers have been afraid of it, because they feel parts of their pictures will be taken and mated with other photogra- phers’ pictures, and this is a valid concern, there is no doubt about it. But the technology is here, and it’s fast and it’s clean. Before, I had to go to a dye transfer and retouch. Now, I just “pop up” the magnifi cation of an area I want to clean up, and retouch as I go along, and I can change the colors if I want to. GS: This is an additional artistic arena for you to play in. PT: Absolutely! Not for my personal work, because right now it’s very expensive. But I am sure these systems will become afford- able, and in ten years will become available on our PCs. GS: These systems are used in news photography. PT: I believe Time-Life uses a Crossfi eld computer system. They are able to get Time magazine out on the West Coast, East Coast, in Europe, and the Orient—all over the world, and not by airplane. They don’t send those “plates” abroad and print them out there. They take their system and beam it up to the HBO satellite and downlink it to the various printing offi ces around the planet, and those guys do the separation negatives and print the magazines. That’s how they’re able to do it so fast. GS: It’s a printing technology. PT: Right now the printers have the edge on the new technology. There are three digitalization systems out today: Hell Chroma- con, Scitex, and Crossfi eld. In the book The Art of Persuasion by Robert Sobieszek, elec- tronic imaging and the use of the computer is the end point of the statement he wanted to make about photography. The book begins with what is one of the earliest advertisements, a U.S. gov- ernment poster saying, “$100,000 Reward! The murderer of our late beloved President, Abraham Lincoln is still at large.” At the end of his book, Sobiezsek considers the electronic landscapes I did for Bell Atlantic to be on the cutting edge of photography today. GS: How are they done? PT: They were conventionally done photographs, and assembled
Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 electronically on the Hell Chromacon computer system with digital imaging. GS: How does digital imaging work? PT: The Hell Chromacon system is really a printing system using laser scanners for separating everything. The image is digitized, and it takes a while to “crunch” in all the colors, but when it’s done you can’t see the pixels with the naked eye. A laser print is pulled right out. The print quality is incredible. In terms of storing images, you can take an image, break it down by using a computer, and regenerate that image any time you want. Pete Turner 269
GS: There have been breakthroughs in other technologies related to photography. Films today are much more highly saturated. They are doing chemically what you’ve been doing artistically, on your own, for years. Is technology chasing, and fi nally catching up with, art? PT: I wish it would, but I don’t think it’s happening too much. But I’ve always said there’s a marketplace for a company that comes out with a color fi lm with various contrast grades, like the black and white graded printing papers. GS: What do you think about the new color fi lms and their higher color saturation? PT: The Japanese, with Fujichrome, have done some good work to heighten certain colors. Their bright reds and blues are literally off the planet . . . they are not real, but they are beautiful! On the other hand, in our studio we use Kodachrome, which we like very much. What we do requires stability, and Kodak has come a long way with fi lm stability. GS: Have you used Kodachrome 200? PT: It’s a beautiful fi lm, and has its purposes. But it doesn’t lend it- self to being duplicated on to Kodachrome 25, as well as the slower fi lms. For my work I use Kodachrome 25 or 64. I’m always looking toward the second generation of fi lm. The problem I have with the higher-speed fi lms is contrast and grain sharpness. I don’t use duplicating fi lms; I reprint from Kodachrome to Ko- dachrome. With Kodachrome 25 you get an increase of contrast and color saturation, but the grain is within acceptable limits. GS: When you shoot with the second generation of fi lm in mind, do you make exposure adjustments on the original shot, or only shoot in certain light? PT: Absolutely! I like a soft light, and it’s perfectly obvious that at high noon the light is much too contrasty. I prefer a little mist, or an overcast day. GS: You’ve been “reality bending” on your own for years, before computers came along, through second-generation imaging and color manipulation. Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 PT: My fi nished work is always second generation. For me the origi- nal slide is just the starting point for an image. I use an optical printer, which for all practical purposes functions like an enlarger. It enables me to re-photograph the original transparency and make signifi cant changes to the image. I can enhance existing colors or introduce new colors, increase or subdue contrast, and combine and construct different images or elements. GS: What is it about color that excites you? PT: I like the play of colors: red with blue, green with yellow. I always had a feeling things should work like a spectrum—to make use 270 Pete Turner
of color is the natural thing for me. Some people equate my sense of color with intensity, while others fi nd it gaudy. A curator at the Getty Museum out in California has jokingly called me the “Dr. No of color photography.” I like to take pictures, and I like to make pictures—that’s my idea of a good time. I always liked color. I’ve never been afraid of it, you know. And yet, there is a line that I will draw, and I won’t go past that with color. GS: And what is that? PT: I hate things like star fi lters, and all the cheap diffraction and dif- fusion gadgets. I believe there is an element of taste that has to run through good photography, and I think it’s hard to fi nd an artist who doesn’t have good taste. GS: How do you feel about black and white photography? PT: Surprisingly enough, I like black and white photography. One of my classmates at RIT was Jerry Uelsmann. I have one of his black and white prints hanging in my living room. In fact, it’s the fi rst thing you see when you enter. I love his work. GS: There is a lot of handwork and manipulation that can be done with black and white prints that you can’t do with color. PT: I know, but I just have a feeling for color, and I love it. Black and white is a beautiful medium, but I’ve just been too busy with color all my life. I was into color even before I went to high school. I like a good neutral also. When I get a good “black and white” photograph that’s in color, I love it! But they are hard to come by. GS: For example? PT: “Sand and Storm.” Even though there are many shades of blue, to me it’s a “black and white” photograph. I lucked out on that one. It was shot at Mono Lake late in the afternoon when a storm was approaching. I walked down the road toward the tufas, the clouds billowed up, the sky darkened, and it started hailing. It looked like a scene out of a science fi ction movie. GS: Were any fi lters used? PT: No fi lters, that’s just the way it was that day. GS: The photograph “Rolling Ball” marked an important turning Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 point in your work. Could you talk about the creative process involved? PT: It was 1959, and I was in the Sudan on my fi rst big assignment. It was late in the afternoon, and there was this little pyramid-shaped railroad maintenance hut. The sun was a red ball of color. I was shooting with a 105 or 200mm lens—a short telephoto—and realized from different angles I could have that sun resting on the triangle. I discovered I could create different compositions by playing a circle against a triangle, and when I walked around to the position I chose to shoot, I knew I was seeing something very exciting—it was a creative moment for me. That particular Pete Turner 271
photograph stayed in my mind, and geometric shapes have been an ongoing theme in my work ever since. GS: Do you shoot to please yourself fi rst? PT: I am more interested in making images that please me, and that can please other people. I like to photograph beautiful things. GS: Do you have any underlying messages in your work? PT: I am not political by nature, and I am not a complicated photog- rapher, so I have no big, heavy statement to make. GS: How has surrealism infl uenced your work? PT: I like surrealism very much. I was infl uenced by Yves Tanguy. He was my favorite painter. As a student at RIT, I would come down to New York City with Ralph Hattersley and spend time at the Museum of Modern Art. I can remember being mesmerized by Yves Tanguy’s large paintings. Apparently, he would go to the beach, and see all those little bits and pieces of things lying on the sand, and that’s what the paintings are composed of. GS: Have there been any photographers who have infl uenced you? PT: It’s strange. I never assisted anyone. I have had a lot of very good people assist me, and go on and create careers on their own. It must be hard to work with a photographer and then go out and try to develop your own style. I consider myself fortunate, my style just evolved. GS: If you were starting a career today, would you go the same route? PT: I would do exactly the same thing. I would go back to RIT. GS: I understand you were in the fi rst class at RIT to graduate with a four-year bachelor’s degree in photographic science. PT: Yes. I attended from 1952 to 1956. My classmates included Jerry Uelsmann, Bruce Davidson, Carl Chiarenza, Paul Caponigro, and Peter Bunnell. And one of my teachers was Ralph Hattersley. GS: Was Minor White teaching there at that time? PT: Yes, he was. I attended a few of Minor’s classes and sessions at his home, but I could never really get into the “Zen” that surrounded his whole philosophy. But he did infl uence me, and made me aware of what an “anamorphic inanimate” is. GS: Could you explain? Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 PT: That is, seeing life in something that isn’t alive. For instance, a human form in a cloud . . . you do it naturally. So while I didn’t take classes with Minor, as a student at RIT, Minor White was an infl uence on me. As a freshman there was a running joke about what a latent image was—that’s the image before the fi lm is exposed, totally invisible! Well, the upperclassmen would tease the freshmen. We would open the fi lm holder and say, “See the image, look closely, you can see it,” and fi nally they would say, “Oh yeah, I see it.” I had a lot of fun at Rochester. I enjoyed it, and they prepared me well for the career I wanted. 272 Pete Turner
GS: Do you feel school is important for photographers? PT: One thing I emphasize, and that is, a good education in photog- raphy is a must. I highly recommend schools like RIT or Day- tona Beach Community College or Brooks Institute. GS: What about technical schools? PT: Well, each school has its own merits. But you can’t beat a good technical college, because I think it’s important that people going into professional photography today have every tool they can get their hands on. The competition is going to be ferocious out there. It’s a tough marketplace, and I don’t think you can just go to a workshop, assist a couple of people on a freelance basis, and say, “Well, now I am a photographer”—especially today, when it is tough to get a lot of jobs in succession because there are so many photographers. GS: You knew early in life you wanted to be a photographer. PT: I knew I wanted to be a photographer when I was in grade school. I lucked out! GS: Did your interest in photography as a child stem from your grow- ing up in Rochester, Kodak’s hometown? PT: My interest in photography continued in Rochester, but I fi rst started taking pictures as a little kid in Montreal. My family moved to Rochester when I was in the seventh grade, and it was there I began experimenting with black and white and later color processing. As a freshman in high school, I was shooting weddings on weekends for extra money. Throughout high school I was photographing for the school newspaper and yearbook. GS: What are some of your recent personal projects? PT: A continual theme in my work has been “foregrounds and back- grounds.” I am putting a series together for a possible future show and book. GS: For your recently published book, Pete Turner: Photographs, did you select the images? PT: Yes, I selected 100 of my favorite pictures. All the photographs in the book are personal works. Some of them have been used editorially in ads, but they are all pictures which please me.
Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 GS: It must have been diffi cult to narrow it down to 100. PT: Putting this book together was the hardest thing I ever had to do, because I had to lay the pages out as pairs. I couldn’t use the full spectrum of my work because I wanted to pair pictures in terms of color, content, etc. I also wanted to keep the cost of the book down so students could afford it. GS: Do you have any advice for the readers? PT: A lot of people think Peter Turner is a “Techno-Freak.” I am not a Techno-Freak! I like things that work, and that help me do my work. But I hate batteries. If you put your equipment away and forget about the batteries, they corrode your equipment . . . thank Pete Turner 273
god for assistants! With all the new technology and equipment (and let’s hope some wonderful photography comes out of it) you still need the basic tools, which for a photographer might be an old-fashioned workhorse Weston meter. I don’t care what you say, you can give me all those great electronic meters, but there is nothing like a Weston meter when you’re halfway around the world. That, and a gray card! Those two things are like a writer’s pencil and paper. Are you sure your tape recorder is still playing? You’d be in trouble if you didn’t have that pencil and paper ready. Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 This page intentionally left blank Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 INDEX
Adams, Ansel 35 , 103 , 127 , 194 , 218 ; Award Bernhard, Ruth 11 – 24 ; art photography 189 , 231 ; and Van Dern Coke 55 , 56 , 13 – 14 ; awareness and sensitivity 22 – 3 ; 58 – 9 ; Gallery 123 , 124 , 125 , 189 , 190 , childhood 22 ; children as subjects 191 ; prints 262 ; and Chris Rainier 223 , 18 – 19 ; commercial photography 15 ; 224 , 228 ; workshops 11 commonplace and universal subjects Adams, Clinton 61 , 62 – 3 , 64 11 , 12 ; confi dence and growth 20 – 1 ; advertising see commercial/advertising The Delineator (Steiner) 13 ; doll’s head photography 17 – 18 ; environmentalism and food 23 , Antarctica 225 , 230 24 ; exhibitions/collections 11 ; in Florida Aperture magazine 36 – 7 , 38 19 ; German reunifi cation 23 ; Gift of the Apple Mac 141 – 2 , 244 Commonplace 18 ; holistic approach 12 – 13 ; archetypes 42 and Lewis Kemper 125 – 6 ; light 16 ; move architectural photography 263 – 4 from New York to California 16 – 17 ; art history 61 – 2 , 63 – 5 , 202 nudes 11 , 12 , 14 ; prints and publications art photographers see Bernhard, Ruth; 11 ; teaching 11 , 19 –20 , 21 – 2 ; women Casanave, Martha; Chappell, Walter; photographers 14 – 16 Coke, Van Deren “Beware of the Dog” project (Casanave) Auden, W.H. 91 , 100 27 – 8 Australia 170 – 1 , 240 – 1 black political leaders (1960s) 207 – 8 autobiographical work 9 , 170 , 255 black and white: printing 40 , 260 ; vs color awareness: developing and holding on to 205 , 270 Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 39 , 41 , 43 ; and sensitivity 22 – 3 Brodovitch, Alexy 91 , 119
Barthes, Roland 27 California 16 – 17 , 31 , 36 – 7 , 56 , 58 , 123 ; see Baughman, J. Ross 1 – 9 ; autobiographical also Yosemite National Park work 9 ; censorship 7 ; editor and camera clubs 58 , 59 , 261 – 2 photojournalist, perceptions and working cameras: architectural photography 263 – 4 ; relations 2 – 4 ; education and career 1 ; equipment and techniques 26, 27 , 35 – 6 , ethical issues 4, 6 – 7 ; Overseas Press 37 , 43 , 56 , 57 – 8 , 97 – 8 , 118 – 19 , 127 , Corp and AP 8 ; “photo opportunities” 130 – 1 , 161 , 162 , 163 , 190 – 1 ; formats 5 ; political issues 3 – 5 , 7 ; press pool and 70 , 103 , 169 , 204 – 5 , 219 – 20 , 236 ; favoritism 5 – 6 ; Pulitzer Prize 1 , 7 – 9 ; technology and vision 32 – 4 , 43 ; see also teaching 2 ; Visions photo agency 1 , 6 digital technology 276 Index
Capa, Cornell 51 62 – 3 , 64 ; art history 61 – 2 , 63 – 5 ; in Cartier-Bresson, Henri 135 , 198 California 56 , 58 ; camera club 58, 59 ; Casals, Pablo 147 – 8 childhood, youth and education 57 – 9 ; Casanave, Martha 25 – 30 ; education and directorships 55 , 56 – 7 ; equipment early career 25 – 6 ; equipment and and techniques 56 , 57 – 8 ; exhibitions techniques 26 , 27 ; exhibitions and 55 – 6 , 65 ; and Ben Hart 58 , 59 ; history collections 25 ; feminist perspective 27; as subject 60 ; Mexico 59 , 62 , 65 ; at illness and “Beware of the Dog” project Museum of Modern Art (MoMa) 56 – 7 ; 27 – 8 ; “Kitchen Kama Sutra” project publication 65 ; teaching 55 , 62 – 5 ; (food and sex) 28 ; metaphors 28 – 9 ; University of Kentucky 59 – 60 , 61 ; nudes 29 ; portraits 26 – 7 ; prints and University of New Mexico (UNM) publications 25 ; shyness 26 ; in Soviet 63 – 5 ; as wartime naval offi cer 60 ; and Union 26 ; teaching 25 – 6 , 28 – 9 ; and Edward Weston 55 , 58 , 59 , 61 Edward Weston 13 – 14 , 15 , 16 – 17 , 18 , 23 ; color: high saturation 269 – 70 ; techniques women photographers 29 – 30 83 – 4 ; vs black and white 205 , 270 CD-ROM market 139 – 40 commercial/advertising photography 15 , censorship 7, 81 – 2 , 187 48 , 146 , 155 , 219 , 262 ; and personal Chappell, Walter 31 – 43 ; archetypes 42 ; projects 256 – 8 ; TV 98 ; US and Europe awareness, developing and holding on 116 – 17 ; see also Dole, Jodi to 39 , 41 , 43 ; black and white printing computers 141 – 2 , 244 ; see also digital 40 ; in California 31 , 36 – 7 ; camera technology equipment and technique 35 – 6 , 37 , 43 ; Condon, John 108 , 109 camera technology and vision 32 – 4 , 43 ; chaos theory 40 – 1 , 42 – 3 ; childhood/ Dalai Lama and Tibet 232 – 4 youth 34 ; Dutch Elms project 38 – 9 ; dance: Matachine dancers 101 , 102 – 3 ; Sun illness 35 , 36 ; light 41 ; Metafl ora project Dance 131 – 2 ; see also Greenfi eld, Lois 41 ; metaphors and “equivalents” 39 ; “Dark Landscapes” (Hall) 103 music 32 , 34 ; in New Mexico 31 ; in Day in the Life projects see Smolan, Rick New York 37 ; photography and other and Cohen, David mediums 31 , 32 ; samadhi practice 41 – 2 ; Dean, James 263 – 4 visual comprehension 42 – 3 ; vital energy, “decisive moments” 135 , 198 manifestation of 40, 41 ; and Edward Demarchelier, Patrick 67 – 71 ; camera Weston 35 ; and Minor White 31 , 34 – 5 , equipment and formats 70; early life and 36 – 9 career 67 ; exhibitions and publications childhood infl uences 22 , 34 , 57 , 87 – 8 , 210 , 70 – 1 ; models and celebrity portraits 234 – 5 , 272 68 – 9 ; studio and team 69 – 70 children as subjects 18 – 19 The Delineator (Steiner) 13 China 117 , 248 digital technology 73 , 74 , 75 – 8 , 133 – 7 , clichés, working through 192 – 3 267 – 9 ; image storage 77 , 142 – 3 ; Cobb, Jodi 45 – 54 ; advice 52 ; awards 45 , 52 ; investment and upgrade 139 , 141 – 2 ; books 45 ; commercial photography 48; online and CD-ROM market 139 – 40 ; Day in the Life assignments 48 ; “fl y on Photoshop 124 , 127 , 134 , 138 ; quality of
Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 the wall” shots 48 ; National Geographic 45 , images 138 – 9 ; see also cameras 46 – 8 , 50 , 52 ; photographers, admired 50 ; Dole, Jodi 73 – 8 ; ambition 78 ; awards 73 ; portraits 48 ; relationships and emotional clients 73 , 74 – 5 ; digital imaging and connection 53 ; responsibilities 54; social equipment 73 , 74 , 75 – 8 ; digital storage issues 50 ; teaching 45 , 53 ; travel 48 – 9 ; 77 ; Iris prints 75 , 76 , 77 – 8 University of Missouri and Fund for doll’s head (Bernhard) 17 – 18 Concerned Photography project 51 – 2 ; Dutch Elms project (Chappell) 38 – 9 women photographers 50 – 1 ; “The dye-sublimation prints 135 Women of Saudi Arabia” 47 , 50 Cohen, David see Smolan, Rick and Cohen, editors and photojournalists, perceptions David and working relations 2 – 4 Coke, Van Deren 55 – 65 ; and Ansel Adams “Environmental Expressionism” portfolio 55 , 56 , 58 – 9 ; and Clinton Adams 61 , (Gotfryd) 92 Index 277
environmentalism 236 – 8 ; and food 23 , 24 ; career 95 ; equipment and technique “spiritual ecology” 193 97 – 8 ; fi lming and directing TV equipment see cameras; digital technology commercials 98 ; inspiration 98; and “equivalents” 39, 228 Dave Parsons 95 , 96 ; publications 95; ethical issues 6 – 7 ; consent of subjects 4 ; relationship with subjects 96 invasion of privacy 152 – 3 Grossman, Sid 145 , 151 , 153 Evans, Walker 262 Hagel, Otto see Mieth, Hansel and Hagel, family: Bernard Gotfryd 89 – 90 , 92 – 3 ; Sally Otto Mann 161 , 162 , 165 Hall, Douglas Kent 99 – 105 ; agents 101 ; Farm Security Administration (FSA): Carl American West 99 ; camera format 103 ; Mydans 185 – 6 , 188 ; Arnold Newman church photographs 104 ; collections 99 ; 201 ; Gordon Parks 203 , 204 – 5 , 206 – 7 , creative writing teaching 100 ; “Dark 211 Landscapes” 103 ; early life and education fashion: magazines 67 , 68 , 95 ; see also 99 ; fi rst camera 100 ; In Prison project Demarchelier, Patrick 103 – 4 ; landscapes 104 – 5 ; Matachine fi lms/fi lming 98 , 133 , 167 – 8 , 205 , 208 – 9 , dancers 101 , 102 – 3 ; New Mexico as 249 – 50 home and inspiration 99 – 100 , 101 – 5 ; “fl y on the wall” shots (Cobb) 48 photographers, admired 103 ; publications food: and environmentalism 23 , 24 ; and 99 ; rock musicians 100 ; “Voices from an sex 28 Ancient Landscape” 101 , 103 France 183 , 207 Hart, Ben 58 , 59 funding/grants 51 – 2 , 81 – 2 , 224 – 6 , 240 – 1 Hawaii 245 , 246 Heart Mountain Relocation Center (Mieth Galassi, Peter 79 – 85 ; at Museum of and Hagel) 173 , 177 – 9 Modern Art (MoMa) 79 , 81 , 84 ; color Hell Chromacon system 267 – 9 techniques 83 – 4 ; government funding Hometowns project (Tice) 263 – 4 , 265 and censorship 81 – 2 ; intent of artists “Hot Shot” (Link) 159 – 60 82 – 3 ; photograph as art work 83 ; humanitarian and refugee stories 225 , “Pleasures and Terrors of Domestic 227 – 8 Comfort” exhibition 79 – 80 ; self- promotion of artists 84 – 5 “Images of Concern” exhibition 51 – 2 Garlock, Bradley 69 In Prison project (Hall) 103 – 4 Germany: and Nazi regime 174 – 5 , 177 – 8 , India 167 , 171 179 ; occupation of Poland see Gotfryd, indigenous cultures: Native American 101 , Bernard; reunifi cation 23 102 – 3 , 131 – 2 ; and sacredness 226 – 8 , Gift of the Commonplace (Bernhard) 18 229 – 30 Gotfryd, Bernard 87 – 93 ; at Borenstein Iris prints 75 , 76 , 77 – 8 studio 88 – 9 ; awards 91 – 2 ; childhood and early interest in photography Japan: Day in the Life project 246 ; see also 87 – 8 ; concentration camps 89 , 93 ; World War II “Environmental Expressionism” portfolio jazz 115, 119
Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 92 ; family 89 – 90 , 92 – 3 ; and Gestapo offi cer 88 – 9 ; Holocaust memories 92 – 3 ; Kalinsky, George 107 – 13 ; award 107 ; in New York 90 – 1 ; Newsweek 90 – 1 , 92 ; career before photography 110 ; celebrity and Polish Resistance 88 – 9 ; portraits and subjects 107 ; and John Condon 108 , 109 ; relationships with subjects 91 , 92 ; post- Miami Herald 108 ; and Muhammad Ali Liberation Poland 89 – 90 ; short stories 108 , 111 – 12 ; Pope John Paul II portrait 91 – 2 ; in US Army 90 ; “The Wedding 107 , 112 ; printing 109 ; publications 107 , Picture” 92 – 3 110 ; sports subjects 107 – 10 , 111 – 12 , 113 grants/funding 51 – 2 , 81 – 2 , 224 – 6 , 240 – 1 Kane, Art 115 – 21 ; advertising photography, Great Depression 173 , 175 – 6 ; see also Farm US and Europe 116 – 17 ; art director 115 ; Security Administration (FSA) awards 115 ; beginning and maintaining Greenfi eld, Lois 95 – 8 ; awards 95 ; and career 119 – 20 ; cameras and technique choreography 96 – 7 ; clients 95 – 6 ; early 118 – 19 ; China 117 ; collections 115 ; 278 Index
creativity, problem of teaching 121 ; 147 ; “people” photography as invasion equipment 127 ; as graphic designer 115, of privacy 152 – 3 ; personal projects and 116 , 119 ; jazz 115, 119 ; mass marketing assignments 150 – 1 ; photo essays 145 ; 117 – 18 ; personal journalism 118 ; Photo League, New York City 145 , teaching 120 – 1 151 – 2 ; at PM newspaper 146 , 148 – 9 ; Kemper, Lewis 123 – 8 ; Ansel Adams Gallery teaching 146 , 147 – 8 124 , 125 ; award 128 ; Canon “Explorers Life magazine: J. Ross Baughman 1 , 4 , of Light” group 123 , 128 ; childhood and 6 ; Douglas Kirkland 133 , 136 ; Hansel youth 124 ; collections and online gallery Mieth and Otto Hagel 176 , 177 , 178 ; 123 – 4 ; education 123 ; inspiration and Gordon Parks 203 , 204 , 205 – 6 , 207 – 8 , motivation 128 ; light 126 – 7 ; move to 212 ; Rick Smolan 240 ; and Time-Life, California 123 ; nature and seasons 126 ; Carl Mydans 181 , 182 , 186 – 8 publications 124 ; Sacramento project light 16 , 41 , 126 – 7 ; Canon “Explorers of 127 – 8 ; teaching 124 , 125 – 7 ; Yosemite Light” group 123 , 128 ; night shooting, and Yellowstone National Parks 123 , equipment and technique 157 – 9 124 – 5 Light Value Technology (LVTs) 135 Kennedy, David Michael 129 – 32 ; awards Link, O. Winston 155 – 60 ; civil engineering, 129 ; celebrity and editorial portraits 129; education and wartime career 155 ; equipment and technique 130 – 1 ; move commercial and industrial photography from New York to New Mexico 129 – 30 ; 155 ; fi lm development and exposure musicians, posters and album covers 129 ; 159 ; “Hot Shot” 159 – 60 ; “Main Line Native American dancers 131 – 2 ; “Pine on Main Street” 157 ; night shooting, Ridge” series 132 lighting equipment and technique Keyser, Rosie 69 – 70 157 – 9 ; Norfolk & Western (N&W) Kirkland, Douglas 133 – 43 ; business railroad project 155 , 156 – 60 ; people in advantages and disadvantages of digital pictures 159 ; publications 155 , 160 technology 137 ; celebrity portraits 133; changing occupational roles 136 – 7 , Mac/PCs 141 – 2 , 244 138 , 140 – 1 ; “dig graphs” 135 – 6 ; digital magazines: Aperture 36 – 7 , 38 ; fashion 67 , storage 142 – 3 ; digital technology 133 – 7 ; 68 , 95 ; National Geographic 45 , 46 – 8 , 50 , dye-sublimation prints 135 ; equipment, 170 – 1 , 234 , 235 ; New York Magazine 45 , investment and upgrade 139, 141 – 2 ; 48 ; news 1 ; Newsweek 90 – 1 , 92 ; Penthouse fi lms 133 ; Light Value Technology (LVTs) 131 ; science 136 ; Time 176 , 181 , 187 ; see 135 ; magazines 133 , 136 ; nudes: “Body also Life magazine Language” project 135 ; online and “Main Line on Main Street” (Link) 157 CD-ROM market 139 – 40 ; Photoshop Mann, Sally 161 – 6 ; advice 165 – 6 ; 134 , 138 ; publications 133 , 135 – 6 , awards and honorary degree 161 , 137 ; quality of computer-generated 162 , 163 ; career development 162 – 3 ; photography 138 – 9 ; special effects empowerment, intimidation and services 137 – 8 ; teaching 133 sacrifi ces 164 ; equipment and technique “Kitchen Kama Sutra” project (Casanave) 161 , 162 , 163 ; exhibitions and collections 28 161 ; family life 161 , 162 , 165 ; grants
Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 Korean story 250 161 , 164 ; infl uences 165 ; informal learning and infl uences 163 ; landscape landscape photography 103 , 104 – 5 , 161 ; see photography 161 ; Lexington 161 , 164 – 5 ; also Neill, William; Tice, George “The Perfect Tomato” 162 ; publications Leipzig, Arthur 145 – 53 ; advice 153 ; 161 ; self-promotion 163 – 4 ; social and communication and compassion 147 ; political issues 165; teaching 166 early career and infl uences 145 , 151 ; Mapplethorpe exhibition 81 , 82 exhibitions and collections 145 , 146 ; Mark, Mary Ellen 167 – 72 ; Australia 170 – 1 ; human condition 147 , 152 ; at INP autobiographical work 170 ; awards 167 , news agency 146 , 149 – 50 ; inspiration 168 ; camera format 169 ; documentary and motivation 150 ; magazines and photography 169 , 172 ; education and commercial work 146 ; “Mentor Series” beginning of career 168 – 9 ; India 167, 147 – 8 ; “Opening Night at the Opera” 171 ; magazines 167 ; publications and Index 279
fi lms 167 – 8 ; research 170 – 1 ; social New York Magazine 45 , 48 themes and subjects 167 , 169 – 70 ; Newman, Arnold 197 – 202 ; art history teaching 172 ; women, subjects and 202 ; awards and honorary degrees 197 ; photographers 171 – 2 books 197 ; control, importance of 198 ; Matachine dancers 101 , 102 – 3 creative process 200 , 201 – 2 ; exhibitions “Mentor Series” (Leipzig) 147 – 8 and collections 197 ; inspirational painters Metafl ora project (Chappell) 41 and photographers 200 – 1 ; magazines metaphors 28 – 9 , 39 197 ; portrait, defi nition of 198 ; research Mieth, Hansel and Hagel, Otto 173 – 9 ; 199 ; Stieglitz and O’Keefe portrait 201; blacklisted by Committee on Stravinsky portrait 199 ; studio vs location Un-American Activities 179 ; book shoots 198 ; subjects and themes 199 – 200 173 , 179 ; early life 173 – 4 ; European Newsweek 90 – 1 , 92 trips 174 ; Germany and Nazi regime night shooting 157 – 9 174 – 5 , 177 – 8 , 179 ; Great Depression, nudes 11 , 12 , 14 , 29 , 135 documenting 173 , 175 – 6 ; Heart Mountain Relocation Center, Japanese occupational roles, changing 136 – 7 , 138 , internees 173 , 177 – 9 ; magazines 176 ; 140 – 1 migration to and travel in US 175 “Opening Night at the Opera” (Leipzig) Muhammad Ali 108 , 111 147 music 32 , 34 , 217 ; composing 207 , 210 – 11 , Overseas Press Corp 8 212 ; jazz 115, 119 ; rock musicians 100 , 107 , 115 , 129 painters: infl uence of 200 – 1 , 271 ; see also Mydans, Carl 181 – 8 ; advice 185 ; archives art history 187 – 8 ; awards 181 ; books 182 ; Parks, Gordon 203 – 13 ; advice 212 ; black censorship 187 ; exhibitions 181 ; Farm political leaders (1960s) 207 – 8 ; black Security Administration (FSA) 185 – 6 , and white vs color 205 ; books 203 , 188 ; France 183 ; Japanese capture 204 , 209 – 10 ; camera format 204 – 5 ; and imprisonment 183 – 4 ; Japanese childhood 210 ; current projects 212 ; surrender 182 ; Life magazine 181 , 186 – 7 ; diversity of creative work 203 , 212 – 13 ; motivation 184 – 5 ; and Gordon Parks Farm Security Administration (FSA) 211 ; post-war assignments 181 ; teaching 203 , 204 – 5 , 206 – 7 , 211 ; fi lm directing 181 ; Time-Life 181 , 182 , 187 – 8 205 , 208 – 9 ; Life magazine 203, 205 – 6 , 207 – 8 ; motivation 211 – 12 ; Paris, France National Endowment for the Arts (NEA) 207 ; photographers, admired 211 ; poets 81 and poetry 206 , 209 – 10 ; subjects 206 ; National Geographic 45 , 46 – 8 , 50 , 170 – 1 , writing and composing 207 , 210 – 11 , 212 234 , 235 Parsons, Dave 95 , 96 Native Americans 101 , 102 – 3 , 131 – 2 PC/Apple Mac 141 – 2 , 244 nature/wilderness photographers see Penthouse magazine 131 Kemper, Lewis; Neill, William; Rainier, “The Perfect Tomato” (Mann) 162 Chris; Rowell, Galen photojournalists see Baughman, J. Ross; Neill, William 189 – 95 ; advice 191 ; clichés, Cobb, Jodi; Mieth, Hansel and Hagel,
Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 working through 192 – 3 ; early career Otto; Mydans, Carl 190 ; East Coast and Southwest locations Photoshop 124 , 127 , 134 , 138 194 ; equipment and technique 190 – 1 ; Picker, Fred 215 – 21; advice 220 ; audience inspiration 189 ; magazines 189 , 191 , 192 ; responses 217 – 18 ; beginning and marketing and income sources 191 , 192 , developing career 218 – 19 ; books 215 ; 194 – 5 ; publications 189 ; special projects camera formats 219 – 20 ; commercial 195 ; “spiritual ecology” 193 ; teaching work 219 ; “fi ne art” vs other 189 , 190, 193 ; Yosemite National Park photographic forms 220 – 1 ; inspiration 189 – 94 from music 217 ; “otherness” 217 ; Nepal: Annapurna Conservation Area photographers, admired 218 , 221 ; skills Project 234 and “technique” 216 ; subjects 216 – 17 ; New Mexico 31 , 99 – 100 , 101 – 5 , 129 – 30 ; teaching 220 , 221 ; travel 216 ; Zone VI University (UNM) 63 – 5 workshop 215 , 219 , 220 280 Index
“Pine Ridge” series (Kennedy) 132 book production team 240 , 243 – 5; Russia “Pleasures and Terrors of Domestic 246 – 8; self-motivation 250 – 1; Spain 248 Comfort” exhibition 79 – 80 Soviet Union/Russia 26 , 246 – 8 PM newspaper 146 , 148 – 9 Spain 248 poets and poetry 206 , 209 – 10 spirituality: creativity and 257 – 8 ; Point Lobos 23 , 35 , 58 indigenous cultures and 226 – 8 , 229 – 30 ; Poland, German occupation of see Gotfryd, samadhi practice 41 – 2 ; “spiritual Bernard ecology” 193 portraits 26 – 7 , 48 ; celebrities 68 – 9 , 129 , sports subjects 107 – 10 , 111 – 12 , 113 ; 133 ; Pope John Paul II 107 , 112 ; and women photographers 50 – 1 relationships with subjects 91, 92 ; see also steam trains, Norfolk & Western (N&W) Newman, Arnold project 155 , 156 – 60 Pulitzer Prize 1, 7 – 9 , 45 , 52 Steichen, Edward 145 , 146 , 260 – 1 Pyle, Gene 218 Steiner, Ralph 13 , 59 Stieglitz, Alfred 39 , 228 ; portrait 201 railroad project, Norfolk & Western Strand, Paul 103 , 145 , 151 , 221 (N&W) 155 , 156 – 60 Stryker, Roy 185 , 186 , 201 , 203 , 204 , Rainier, Chris 223 – 30 ; advice 229 ; and 206 – 7 , 211 Ansel Adams 223 , 224 , 228 ; Antarctica Sturges, Jock 82 225 , 230 ; awards 223 ; books 223 ; early Sudan 270 – 1 life overseas 224 , 226 ; exhibitions 223 ; Sun Dance 131 – 2 formal training 224; humanitarian and Szarkowski, John 84 refugee stories 225 , 227 – 8 ; indigenous cultures and sacredness 226 – 8 , 229 – 30 ; teaching: Baughman 2; Bernhard 11 , 19 – 20 , international travel, funding and sacrifi ces 21 – 2 ; Casanave 25 – 6 , 28 – 9 ; Cobb 45 , 224 – 6 ; magazines 223, 225 ; subjects and 53 ; Coke 55 , 62 – 5 ; Hall 100 ; Kane events 223 ; teaching 230; wilderness areas 120 – 1 ; Kemper 124 , 125 – 7 ; Kirkland and native tribes 223 133 ; Leipzig 146 , 147 – 8 ; Mann 166 ; Reagan, Ronald 263 , 264 Mark 172 ; Mydans 181 ; Neill 189 , rock musicians 100 , 107 , 115 , 129 190 , 193 ; Picker 220 , 221 ; Rainier 230 ; “Rolling Ball” (Turner) 270 – 1 Tenneson 253 , 254 ; Tice 261 Rowell, Galen 231 – 8 ; award 231 ; Tenneson, Joyce 253 – 8 ; advice 258 ; beginning and development of career autobiographical and universal images 235 ; books 231 – 2 , 237 ; camera format 255 ; awards 253 ; commercial and 236 ; early life 235 – 6 ; environmentalism personal approaches 256 – 8 ; creativity 236 – 8 ; exhibited work 231 ; favorite and spirituality 257 – 8 ; current projects images 236 ; favorite wild place 235 – 6 ; and plans 258 ; inspiration 253 – 4 , 257 – 8 ; magazines 231 ; self-assigned work 234 ; magazines/journals 253; move from Tibetan cause and audience with Dalai Washington to New York 254 – 5 ; nude Lama 232 – 4 ; travel 231 ; World Wildlife subjects 255 ; preparation 255 – 6 ; “secret Fund: Annapurna Conservation Area garden” 257 ; teaching 253 , 254 Project 234 Thompson, Edward K. 178
Downloaded by [New York University] at 05:47 09 August 2016 Russia/Soviet Union 26 , 246 – 8 Tibet: and Dalai Lama 232 –4 ; “Rainbow over the Potala Palace, Lhasa” 236 “Sand and Storm” (Turner) 270 Tice, George 259 – 66 ; black and white Schwarzenegger, Arnold 104 printing 260 ; books 259 – 60 , 263 , 265 ; Smolan, Rick and Cohen, David 239 – 51 ; camera, architectural photographs 263 – 4 ; advice 250 ; America 247 ; Apple Mac camera clubs 261 – 2 ; collections of prints 244; Australia project and funding 240 – 1 ; and porfolios 259 ; commercial work 262 ; China 248 ; and Jodi Cobb 48 ; Collins early career 262 ; exhibitions 259 , 262 , acquisition 249 ; Contact Press 239 , 240 ; 264 – 5 ; Hometowns project 263 – 4 , 265 ; Day in the Life Publishing Company naval service 259 , 260 ; self-generated 239 – 40 , 242 ; fi lms 249 – 50; Hawaii work 265 – 6 ; Steichen Portfolios 260 – 1 ; 245 , 246; Japan 246 ; Korean story 250 ; teaching 261 organizing skills 243 ; photojournalists and Time magazine 176 , 181 , 187 Index 281
Time-Life 181 , 182 , 187 – 8 “The Wedding Picture” (Gotfryd) 92 – 3 travel 175 , 216 , 224 – 6 , 231 White, Minor 31 , 34 – 5 , 36 – 9 Turner, Pete 137 , 267 – 73 ; advice 272 – 3 ; wilderness/nature photographers see awards 267 ; books 267 , 272 ; childhood Kemper, Lewis; Neill, William; Rainrer, 272 ; collections 267 ; color fi lms and Chris; Rowell, Galen color saturation 269 ; color as inspiration Witkin, Lee 262 269 – 70 ; education 271 – 2 ; “foregrounds women photographers: challenges 14 – 16 , and backgrounds” theme 272 ; infl uences 29 – 30 , 50 – 1 ; feminist perspective 27; 271 ; new technology 267 – 9 ; “Rolling and subjects 1712 Ball” 270 – 1 ; “Sand and Storm” 270 ; World War II: Airborne Instruments surrealism 271 Laboratory 155; German occupation of Twain, Mark 263 , 264 Poland see Gotfryd, Bernard; Germany and Nazi regime 174 – 5 , 177 – 8 , Vietnam Veterans’ Memorial 53 179 ; Japanese internees, Heart Mountain “visual illiteracy” and visual comprehension Relocation Center 173 , 177 – 9 ; 38 , 42 – 3 Japanese surrender and POW vital energy, manifestation of 40, 41 experience 182, 183 – 4 ; naval careers Vogue 67 60 , 259 , 260 “Voices from an Ancient Landscape” (Hall) World Wildlife Fund: Annapurna 101 , 103 Conservation Area Project 234 “The Women of Saudi Arabia” (Cobb) 47 , Weston, Edward: and Ruth Bernhard, 50 13 – 15 , 23 ; and Martha Casanave 13 – 14 , 15 , 16 – 17 , 18 , 23 ; and Walter Chappell Yosemite National Park 189 – 94 ; Ansel 35 ; and Van Deren Coke 55 , 58 , 59 , 61 ; Adams Gallery 123 , 124 , 125 , 189 , 190 , and Douglas Kent Hall 103 ; and George 191 ; and Yellowstone National Park 123 , Tice 262 124 – 5
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