Germaine Krull. Métal. 1928. Plates 36–39. All Images
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Downloaded from http://direct.mit.edu/octo/article-pdf/doi/10.1162/octo_a_00405/1868493/octo_a_00405.pdf by guest on 01 October 2021 Germaine Krull. Métal . 1928. Plates 36–39. All images © Estate Germaine Krull, Museum Folkwang, Essen. From Material to Infrastructure: Germaine Krull’s Métal * Downloaded from http://direct.mit.edu/octo/article-pdf/doi/10.1162/octo_a_00405/1868493/octo_a_00405.pdf by guest on 01 October 2021 MAX BOERSMA A railway junction, an iron construction, a harbor crane, and a whirling machine: Four images by German-born photographer Germaine Krull present key features of industrial modernity. Taken in the 1920s and reproduced as ink-based col - lotype prints, these photographs manifest their technical objects in ways largely unprecedented in the history of photography before Krull’s time. In part, their novel - ty lies in the very divergences within their modes of picturing: The delicate textures and streamlined composition of the steel tracks contrast sharply with the confusion of floating iron elements; the crane’s excised silhouette—appearing as if pasted on the bare matte paper—likewise opposes the mesmerizing gleam of spinning gears within some unnamed factory. Considered as a group, the images oscillate between rich tonality and graphic abstraction, physical embeddedness and spatial dislocation, the banal and the sublime. One might fail to recognize the tangled iron construction as the iconic Eiffel Tower; deprived of its famed profile, it becomes difficult to identify. This particular photograph, layered with cascading lettering, also adorns the cover of the book that links these discordant frames into a sequence. Published in 1928, Métal is among the most celebrated and influential mod - ern photo books. 1 It is the most defining object of Krull’s wide-ranging, ever-itiner - ant career as a photographer and photojournalist, traced by art historian Kim Sichel in her groundbreaking and indispensable monograph. 2 Yet despite its repu - tation, the specificity of Krull’s project has evaded definition, lost amid its apparent * This article was first developed in consultation with Benjamin Buchloh, whose feedback and support were essential for its growth, and it benefited greatly from a seminar taught by Stephen Kingsley Scott. My sincere thanks to Maria Gough, Robin Kelsey, Madeleine Morley, Jennifer Roberts, and Christopher Williams-Wynn for crucial advice and generous conversations along the way. An earli - er version of the text was presented at the 2017 UCLA symposium “Art on the Edge: Crossing Borders, Shifting Boundaries, Challenging Conventions”; I would also like to thank the event’s organizers and participants for their insightful comments. 1. Germaine Krull, Métal , ed. A. Calavas (Paris: Librairie des Arts Décoratifs, 1928), unpaginat - ed. Translations from German and French sources are my own, unless noted. 2. Kim Sichel, Germaine Krull: Photographer of Modernity (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1999). Recently published, Sichel’s book Making Strange includes a new chapter on Métal , situating Krull’s pub - lication more extensively within the field of French, German, and American photographic books. See Kim Sichel, “Montage: Germaine Krull’s Métal ,” in Making Strange: The Modernist Photobook in France (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2020), pp. 15–47. OCTOBER 173, Summer 2020, pp. 118 –142. © 2020 October Magazine, Ltd. and Massachusetts Institute of Technology. https://doi.org/10.1162/octo_a_00405 120 OCTOBER Downloaded from http://direct.mit.edu/octo/article-pdf/doi/10.1162/octo_a_00405/1868493/octo_a_00405.pdf by guest on 01 October 2021 Krull. Métal . 1928. Cover and title page. heterogeneity of strategies and objects, her frequent relocations among artistic cir - cles, and the discursive prominence of male contemporaries. Within the overlap - ping fields of New Vision, New Objectivity, and industrial photography, Métal is peculiar in many respects. Lacking captions, image titles, and an index, the book embodies a strange hybrid of the photographic travel album and the industrial cat - alogue; Krull’s images largely minimize or exclude geographic markers, signage and other text, human subjects, and urban or environmental settings. They system - atically refuse stylistic consistency and convention as well, with no two adjacent plates offering the same configurations of site, scale, composition, or point of view. What stands as the counterpart to this mutable pictorial agenda is metal itself, the shared constitutive material of all depicted objects. Across the book’s sixty-four numbered but unbound sheets, a calculated movement of associations and inver - sions emerges in which metal—namely, iron and steel—rises to the foreground in ever-shifting configurations. In short, Krull’s book is structured by a speculative analogy drawn between metal and photography, a linking of material and medium. While little known, this pairing has a history, one that begins in architectural discourses of the nineteenth century and reaches a climax in the writings of Swiss historian Sigfried Giedion, who finds his own use for Krull’s photography. Against this context, Métal ’s interplay of attunement and estrangement nonetheless stands apart. The formal malleability and From Material to Infrastructure 121 spatial mobility of photography become Krull’s tools to investigate the many dis - parate functions of metal in her surroundings, encompassing those roles unseen, habitualized, technically obscure, and overpowering. Krull’s focus on metal eludes the two competing poles of her work’s reception, framed as either a critique or cele - bration of industry. Instead, her project manifests the peculiar and fraught experi - ence of living amid large-scale technical systems, mobilizing its analogy to invoke— Downloaded from http://direct.mit.edu/octo/article-pdf/doi/10.1162/octo_a_00405/1868493/octo_a_00405.pdf by guest on 01 October 2021 and, moreover, to theorize in photography—the infrastructures organizing Western European modernity. 3 With the increasing concern for studying and historicizing such systems across a wide range of disciplinary fields in recent years, Krull’s venture should be viewed as an early attempt to find photographic counterparts for these distributed networks and for an emergent sense of entanglement in their multiple scales and intersecting processes. The Iron Was Alive Like those of many definitive works, the origins of Métal appear retrospec - tively as a series of revelatory moments, dispersed within the writings and recol - lections of its maker with fuzzy dates and a certain rhetorical inflation. The pub - lication, which developed slowly over a number of years, marked a considerable shift for the photographer. Trained in the pictorialist tradition at Munich’s Lehr- und Versuchsanstalt für Photographie, Krull produced primarily somber nudes and portraits in the 1910s and early 1920s, operating her own commercial studio in the city. Following several years of fervent political engagement—lead - ing Krull, as Sichel concisely recounts, to be “expelled from the Communist Party, tried for treason in Germany, and first jailed and then deported from both Bavaria and the Soviet Union”—she transferred to Weimar-era Berlin in 1922. 4 There Krull would meet the young filmmaker Joris Ivens, and working closely alongside each other, the pair quickly found themselves at the nexus of Russian, Dutch, French, and German avant-garde developments. After a first visit to Holland with Ivens in the fall of 1924, Krull relocated to Amsterdam in 1925, where she made her first industrial images simultaneous with the international emergence of New Vision photography. While not entirely discarding her prior interest in muted atmospheres, Krull embraced with great enthusiasm a new emphasis on abstraction and pictorial sequencing. 3. Sichel writes that Métal offers “a cool but subtly biting critique of both the power and the dis - orientation of industry.” Ibid., p. 69. By contrast, Mark Antliff reads Krull’s images as predominantly celebratory and argues—with regard to those published by Philippe Lamour in the journal Grand’Route: Revue Mensuelle —that they “expressed the dynamism of collective consciousness and the industrial revo - lution.” Mark Antliff, “Machine Primitives: Philippe Lamour, Germaine Krull, and the Fascist Cult of Youth,” Qui Parle 13, no. 1 (Fall/Winter 2001), p. 93. I allude here to Leah Dickerman’s claim that Aleksandr Rodchenko “theorized in pictures” prior to his important written statements on photogra - phy. Leah Dickerman, “The Radical Oblique: Aleksandr Rodchenko’s Camera-Eye,” Documents 12 (Spring 1998), p. 24. 4. Sichel, Germaine Krull: Photographer of Modernity , p. 18. 122 OCTOBER Krull’s turn to industrial subjects, according to her later recollections, origi - nated from a walk through the port of Amsterdam. Observing steel cranes as they loaded and unloaded cargo from docked ships, she later described the experience in deeply ambiguous terms. “Perhaps these metal giants,” Krull wrote in 1976, in whose proximity I felt very small and unremarkable, frightened me. Did these metal structures actually appeal to me? I cannot say, I merely Downloaded from http://direct.mit.edu/octo/article-pdf/doi/10.1162/octo_a_00405/1868493/octo_a_00405.pdf by guest on 01 October 2021 wanted to photograph them and was then enamored by my images. At the time, I was not yet interested in photography, but these steel giants provoked something in me that brought me to make it into my medium. I