Seizing the Light: A Social & Aesthetic History of Photography [4 ed.] 1032073306, 9781032073309

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Seizing The Light

T

he definitive history of photography book, Seizing the Light: A Social & Aesthetic History of Photography delivers the fascinating story of how photography as an art form came into being, and its continued development, maturity, and transformation. Covering the major events, practitioners, works, and social effects of photographic practice, author Robert Hirsch provides a concise and discerning chronological account of photography, drawing on examples from across the world. This fundamental starting place shows the diversity of makers, inventors, issues, and applications, exploring the artistic, critical, and cultural aspects of the creative process. This new edition has been fully revised and updated to include the latest advances in technology and digital photography, as well as information on contemporary photographers such as Granville Carroll, Meryl McMaster, Cindy Sherman, Penelope Umbrico, and Yang Yongliang. New topics include the rise of mobile photography and surveillance cameras, drone photography, image manipulation, protest and social justice photography, plus the roles of artificial intelligence and social media in photography. Highly illustrated with over 450 images and contributions from hundreds of artists around the world, Seizing the Light serves as a gateway to the history of photography. Written in an accessible style, it is perfect for those newly engaging with the practice of photography and for experienced photographers wanting to contextualize their own work.

R

obert Hirsch is a photographic imagemaker, curator, historian, and writer. Former executive director of CEPA Gallery and now director of Light Research in Buffalo, NY, he has published scores of articles about visual culture and interviewed numerous significant figures in the photographic arts. His other books include Exploring Color Photography: From Film to Pixels; Light and Lens: Thinking About Photography in the Digital Age; Photographic Possibilities: The Expressive Use of Concepts, Equipment, Materials, and Processes; and Transformational Imagemaking: Handmade Photography from 1960 to Now. A former associate editor for Digital Camera and Photovision, Hirsch has also written for Afterimage, exposure, History of Photography, The Photo Review, Photo Technique, and World Book Encyclopedia, among others. He has curated over 200 exhibitions and has had many one-person and group shows of his own work. For details visit www.lightresearch.net.

Seizing The Light

A Social & Aesthetic History of Photography f o u rt h e d i t i o n

robert hirsch

Designed cover images: Front: © Meryl McMaster Back: © Edward Bateman Fourth edition published 2024 by Routledge 605 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10017 and by Routledge 4 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon, OX14 4RN Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2024 Robert Hirsch The right of Robert Hirsch to be identified as author of this work has been asserted 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 utilised 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. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. First edition published by The McGraw-Hill Companies 1999 Third edition published by Routledge 2017 ISBN: 978-1-032-10082-1 (hbk) ISBN: 978-1-032-07330-9 (pbk) ISBN: 978-1-003-21354-3 (ebk) DOI: 10.4324/9781003213543 Designed and typeset in Adobe Jenson Pro by Alex Lazarou, Surbiton, UK

To my wife, Adele Henderson, for her love and support; Marty Keeshound for companionship; and to photographers and writers, past and present, whose works have guided this project.

Contents Chapter Opener Image Credits, viii Preface, ix Acknowledgments, xv

1~

Advancing Towards Photography: The Rise of the Reproduction

2~

The Daguerreotype: Image and Object

29

3~

Calotype Rising: The Arrival of Photography

59

4~

Pictures on Glass: The Wet Plate Process

81

5~

World News—Current Events: Picturing Tragedy

115

6~

A New Medium of Communication

137

7~

The Travelling Camera: Photography and Landscape

163

8~

New Ways of Visualizing Time, Space, and Color

193

9~

Suggesting the Subject: The Evolution of Pictorialism

225

10 ~

Modernism’s Innovations

255

11 ~

The New Culture of Light

289

12 ~

Social Documents

327

13 ~

Catching Time

367

14 ~

From Halftones to Bytes

389

15 ~

The Atomic Age

441

16 ~

New Frontiers: Expanding Boundaries

477

17 ~

Changing Realities

515

18 ~

Thinking About Photography

561

19 ~

The Politics of Representation

601

20 ~

Photography Becomes Digital Imaging

633

Select Bibliography, 669 Index, 679

1

CHAPTER OPENER IMAGE CREDITS

CHAPTER 1  

Phantasmagoria at the Cour des Capucines (detail), 1797.

CHAPTER 11  © CLAUDE

CAHUN. I Am in Training Do Not Kiss Me,

Frontispiece of E.G. Robertson’s Mémoires récréatifs, scientifiques et

1927. 4 5⁄8 × 2½ inches. Gelatin silver print. COURTESY  Jersey Heritage

anecdotiques du physicien-aéronaute, Volume 1, 1831.

Trust, Cahun and Moore Collection.

CHAPTER 2  

UNKNOWN PHOTOGRAPHER (AMERICAN).

CHAPTER 12  

© WALKER EVANS. Floyd Burroughs, Hale County,

Portrait of a Nurse and a Child (detail), circa 1850. 2 7⁄16 x 1 7⁄8 inches.

Alabama (detail), 1936. 7½ x 8 7⁄16 inches. Gelatin silver print.

Daguerreotype with hand applied color. COURTESY The J. Paul Getty

COURTESY

Museum, Los Angeles, CA. CHAPTER 3  

CHAPTER 13  

CHARLES NÈGRE. The Vampire (detail) (Henri Le Secq at

Greenberg Gallery, New York.

UNKNOWN PHOTOGRAPHER (AMERICAN). Portrait

CHAPTER 14  

of Two Seated Women (detail), circa 1860. 2 3⁄8 x 2 7⁄8 inches. Ambrotype,

CHAPTER 15  

effect. COURTESY The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles, CA.

CHAPTER 16  

CHAPTER 17  

WILLIAM H. MUMLER/HELEN F. STUART. Three Spirits

COURTESY

The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles, CA.

CHAPTER 7  

COURTESY

The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles, CA.

CHAPTER 19  © LIU

ÉTIENNE-JULES MAREY/CHARLES FREMONT.

ZHENG. Revolutionary Opera Performers, Beijing

(detail), 1998. Gelatin silver print. COURTESY  Yossi Milo Gallery, New

Chronophotograph (detail), 1894. 6 7⁄16 x 7 15⁄16 inches. Gelatin silver print

York.

from glass negative. COURTESY The Metropolitan Museum of Art,

CHAPTER 20  © GRANVILLE

New York.

CARROLL. The Weaver (detail), from the

series In the Finite, Infinitely, 2022. 30 x 40 inches. Inkjet print.

ALICE BOUGHTON. Nude (detail). 1902.

8 5⁄8 x 5¼ inches. Platinum print. COURTESY Library of Congress, Washington, D.C. CHAPTER 10  © FRANK

© DAVID HOCKNEY. Pearblossom Hwy., April 11–18,

1986 (detail) (2nd version). 78 x 111 inches. Chromogenic color prints.

Carbon print.

CHAPTER 9  

The Center for Creative Photography, Tucson, AZ.

CHAPTER 18  

HERBERT G. PONTING. Grotto in an Iceberg with the

Terra Nova in the Background (detail), 1911. 29 3⁄8 x 21 1⁄8 inches.

CHAPTER 8  

© MILTON ROGOVIN. Joe Kemp, Hanna Furnace, Buffalo,

NY (detail), from the series Working People, 1978–79. Gelatin silver print.

(detail), 1861–1868. 33/4 × 2 3⁄16 inches. Albumen silver print. COURTESY

© JERRY UELSMANN. Man on Desk (detail), 1976.

20 x 16 inches. Gelatin silver print.

George Eastman Museum, Rochester, NY.

CHAPTER 6  

VAL TELBERG. State of Existence, circa 1948. 13 7⁄8 ×

11 inches. Gelatin silver print. © Estate of Val Telberg.

GEORGE N. BARNARD. Fire in the Ames Mills, Oswego,

NY (detail), 1853. 2¾ x 3¼ inches. Daguerreotype with applied color. COURTESY

© RICHARD DREW. Falling Man (detail), 2001. Variable

dimensions. Digital file. COURTESY Associated Press Images.

ruby glass, hand colored, digitally altered to show positive and negative

CHAPTER 5  

© SAUL LEITER. Harlem (detail), 1960. 14 x 11 inches.

Chromogenic color print. © Saul Leiter Foundation. COURTESY Howard

Notre Dame Cathedral, Paris), 1853. 13 x 9¼ inches. Salted paper print. CHAPTER 4  

The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.

B. AND LILLIAN M. GILBRETH. Photograph

of Inefficient Work Operation (detail), circa 1935. 3 3⁄16 x 2½ inches each on 3½ x 7 inch mount. Gelatin silver stereograph (one-half of the stereograph is depicted). COURTESY George Eastman Museum, Rochester, NY.

viii

Preface “I have found a way of fixing the images of the camera! I have seized the fleeting light and imprisoned it! I have forced the sun to paint pictures for me!” L. J. M. Daguerre, to Charles Chevalier at his Paris optical shop

Daguerre’s energized words—the inspiration for our title—reflect the powerful desire to make permanent, reproducible images through the action of light. These pages convey the fascination surrounding this process we call photography throughout its development over the centuries. Seizing the Light: A Social & Aesthetic History of Photography, fourth edition, offers a significantly expanded and thoroughly revised resource for history of photography courses while providing an accurate and comprehensible introduction to the photographic arts for the general reader. The subtitle reflects the book’s outlook by examining the imaginative and resourceful individuals who have advanced the practice by challenging the aesthetic, conceptual, and technical conventions of the photographic arts. In turn, we see the societal and aesthetic shifts from the photograph as an unproblematic mirror of reality with a fixed meaning to that of a flexible human construction whose significance is determined by the viewer and whose meaning changes over time. Corresponding to William Henry Fox Talbot’s The Open Door (1843), this fourth edition of Seizing the Light invites readers to become acquainted with key imagemakers, processes, and ideas that impacted photographic practice and in turn society. In the manner of photography, this work continues to evolve with thousands of updates and revisions plus the addition of numerous new makers, topics, and references. As well as providing

the latest information, I pursued a number of new goals for this edition while continuing to provide an enhanced and comprehensible introduction into photographic history. History is always written backward, from present to past, from a particular point of view. The mission of a historian is to understand the past and reveal how it shapes the present without losing the ability to imagine how people lived before our time and without imposing contemporary values on the past. It is important for a reader to understand the historian’s perspective, thus I provide essential influences that went into making this edition. As an educator, I strive to provide a perceptive, chronological entryway to the artistic, commercial, scientific, and societal forces that have shaped Western photography, rather than presenting a glancing and overwhelming encyclopedic world survey. This emphasizes the perspective that one cannot begin to comprehend another society without first learning about one’s own roots and reveals how photographs are built upon previous images. As a curator, I choose to offer a fundamental starting place to contemplate the diversity of imagemakers, inventors, issues, and applications who have affected the field. As a former director of photographic arts organizations and galleries, I seek to share my fascination with looking at pictures by presenting intriguing images that would inspire people to not only visit social media and internet

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sites devoted to photography and the visual arts, but especially galleries and museums. This stems from the fact that the works presented here exist as physical objects, which come alive and reveal their internal life when one spends time viewing them in person. Photographs are built by incorporating time and space. Some transcend time by recreating the moment over and over again while others expand on our notions space. As a historian, I take a step back and tune out the immediate social media noise to determine what, if anything, of importance is actually being accomplished. And as an imagemaker, I aspire to explore the artistic and critical aspects of the creative process that motivate people to make, look at, interpret images, and share, stressing how photography was a social medium long before the advent of digital social media. From a conceptual point of view, I aim to show in a concise and jargon-free manner how makers have responded to academic theories. However, images do not have to justify their existence by illustrating a particular cultural or political perspective. The experience of looking can be self-sufficient, in a manner similar to listening to music. As a viewer, the images that are reproduced are ones I have found to have directly spoken to me over time, often communicating to me before I have even had the chance to investigate them more thoroughly, thus making labels and statements optional. This discloses how visual art can be its own language that is capable of communicating to us in aspects not possible in words, making fully seeing an image worth the effort. Learning to deeply see opens the doors of perception to consider photographic-based history in a non-linear manner as well, with talented makers reworking their influences, thus demonstrating how art is connected as it is made from existing work. As made famous by Pablo Picasso: “Good artists borrow; great artists steal.” 1 The knowledge I gained from researching this project and the numerous individuals who have

contributed their knowledge has deepened my comprehending how the collaborative and experimental nature of photography have led to striking accomplishments. It is my hope that others will find the results to be an accessible starting point for open inquiry and discussion, encouraging one to think and ask questions, remain curious, and to continually ask whether there is another interpretation as we learn only through dialogue. Overall, Seizing the Light examines how photography developed from centuries of Western imagemaking, and how photographers have struggled to discover the medium’s own visual syntax. The book also examines how capitalism, technology, and market forces have shaped photographic practices by standardizing equipment, materials, and procedures, as well as how public applications, desires, expectations, and demands affect our making and interpretation of images. It offers an initial site for thinking about why we have embraced photography as a medium so enthusiastically, and why and how we make, view, and decipher billions of photo-based images that flood the world on a daily basis. Seizing the Light offers a coherent, representational view of select people, events, movements, and processes as a starting pathway that defines the extensive roles and meanings of Western photographic practice. This approach builds a solid, in-depth foundation of how photography interacts and affects our lives. In addition to a variety of new topics, such as Afrofuturism, artificial intelligence, and social identity, existing themes, from the photobooth to the wars in the Middle East to the internet, have been given fresh coverage. Other featured themes, which provide a fuller realization of how photography can play with the meaning of cultural images, include the body, the landscape, the portrait, time and space concepts, typologies, and urban life. Numerous book and magazine covers have been added as this is how most people first saw photographs before the internet.

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Changing technology has always affected how information is shaped, transmitted, and understood; today’s digital technology is no exception. This book examines how the flux of photographic processes over time has changed our notions about photographic truth and how it has affected our conception of galleries and museums as image presenters and repositories. This history continues to expand and is being written with research assistance from people all over the world through blogs, emails, internet sites, listservs, and social media, which is a critical reminder that history is a living thing and its numerous meanings depend on those writing and interpreting it. As Emeritus Merton Professor of English Literature at Oxford John Carey puts it: “One of history’s most useful tasks is to bring home to us how keenly, honestly, and painfully past generations pursued aims that now seem to us wrong or disgraceful.” 2 I gratefully acknowledge and seek to represent the canon of photographic history composed of luminary figures such as William Henry Fox Talbot, Julia Margaret Cameron, Alfred Stieglitz, and Edward Weston; however, Seizing the Light also provides thorough coverage of photography since the 1960s. This has been a period of explosive growth in the number of people working within the photo-related arts, and it demands greater study if we are to recognize its diversity and richness. Attention is given to contemporary artists who are expanding the practice of photography and bringing their works to a broader audience, as well as to ethnically diverse and female photographers throughout photographic history, who have often been marginalized in the history of the medium since the latter tends to privilege the contributions of white men. Furthermore, the text moves beyond the canon in focusing on certain overlooked vernacular genres of historic practice such as stereographs and snapshots, and how classic hands-on processes and alternative practices have been revitalized and influenced the field.

The history of photography is relevant to everyone in the visual arts because all photographs are made from other photographs. With this concept in mind, my publisher and book team has striven to achieve high production values, including fullcolor reproduction, with large-sized images that pay special attention to maintaining the subtle tonal variations. Readers need to bear in mind that all reproductions are just approximations of the work—translations from silver and pixels into ink; viewers should make the effort to see actual pieces whenever possible. We hope the images chosen to represent a particular artist or movement will kindle a passion in our readership to further investigate the abundance of our photographic heritage. Due to the book’s physical limitations, the individuals featured act as representatives for their many fellow makers who could not be included. The text selectively concentrates on specific aspects of each maker’s practice to exemplify particular moments that have influenced photographic practice. It makes no attempt to represent the range of each maker’s body of work. Nor does it detail any of their technical processes. Information about these methods can be found in my other books, especially Photographic Possibilities: The Expressive Use of Concepts, Ideas, Materials, and Processes, fourth edition and online. A small portion of material has been gleaned and modified from my previous articles, books, and interviews. The text has been carefully fact checked, and endnotes have been limited to maintain readability. The Select Bibliography of foundational books has been revised. However, monographs on individual artists, plus texts on photographic processes and technology, and artists’ books have been eliminated as these can be easily found with an online search or via the endnotes. All images, except those in the public domain, are courtesy of each artist and/or their representative(s). They retain the copyright, and their work may not be reproduced without their written

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permission. Note: any maker’s name that appears in bold face font when that individual’s contribution is first introduced (i.e. Jane Smith) indicates that at least one reproduction of their work is included in the text. This is accompanied by their life date (i.e. 1933–2023). Each edition has had a different internal editor who I selected based on their complementary knowledge to my own. For this fourth edition, I am particularly grateful to Dr. Hanin Hannouch, (she/her), Curator for Analog and Digital Media at the Weltmuseum Wien, where she is responsible for the collections of photography, film, and sound. Dr. Hannouch is a member of the advisory board of the European Society for the History of Photography (ESHPh). She is the editor of the first volume on interferential color photography titled Gabriel Lippmann’s Colour Photography: Science, Media, Museums (Amsterdam University Press, 2022) and has guest-curated the exhibition ‘Slow Colour Photography’ about this topic at Preus Museum: National Museum of Photography (Norway). Moreover, she is the guest-editor of the journal PhotoResearcher Nr. 37 “Three-Colour Photography around 1900: Technologies, Expeditions, Empires.” Dr. Hannouch was a Post-Doc, among others, at the Ethnologisches Museum-Berlin State Museums (Prussian Cultural Heritage Foundation) and at the Kunsthistorisches Institut in Florenz/ Max-Planck-Institut where she investigated colonial color photography in the nineteenth and early twentieth century. She earned her PhD from IMT Lucca, Scuola Alti Studi with a dissertation on the history of film and art in the Soviet Union, after completing an international masters degree in art history and museology (IMKM) at the Ecole du Louvre in Paris and the University of Heidelberg in Germany, as well as another masters and a bachelors focusing on European modern art at the Université Saint-Esprit de Kaslik (Lebanon). Currently, she is writing her monograph on the history

of color photography in Imperial Germany, as well as another book on the history of the photography collection at the Weltmuseum Wien. I am grateful to past editors and major manuscript readers who have helped shape the text including: Dr. Andrew Hershberger, professor of art history at Bowling Green State University, for bringing his in-depth knowledge and research to this project by providing an extremely close and sympathetic editing of the previous edition, which has enhanced its accuracy and readability. I continue to recommend Dr. Hershberger’s Photographic Theory: An Historic Anthology (2014), as an outstanding companion volume, since it provides especially accessible readings and references which complement Seizing the Light; Professor Edward Bateman of the University of Utah; Dr. Samuel Dylan Ewing of The University of the Arts, Philadelphia; Jack and Beverly Wilgus for sharing their wealth of knowledge and images from their collection housed at Southern Methodist University’s DeGolyer Library in Dallas, TX; and the late Mark Jacobs, an independent scholar and collector. At Routledge, I wish to thank senior publisher Natalie Foster, project editor Andrew Peart, production editor Lauren Ellis, copyeditor Mary Dalton, marketing manager Aimee Griffin, and editorial assistant Rachel Feehan. Ruby Merritt, my studio manager and photo researcher oversaw a myriad of details relating to the database, image files, and permissions. I’d also like to thank the book designer Alex Lazarou and Edward Bateman for the page icons and proofreading. At the George Eastman Museum, I am grateful to Director Dr. Bruce Barnes for continuing to support this publication and to David Howe, Assistant Registrar, and Barbara Galasso, photographic services supervisor. I am indebted to institutions such as The J. Paul Getty Museum, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, the Harry Ransom Humanities Research Center, The University of Texas at Austin, the Library of

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notes

Congress, the New York Public Library, and the Smithsonian for their open content programs that have greatly facilitated research and access to images. I especially want to thank the artists, their estates and galleries, plus the museums and collections whose names appear throughout the credits for their support in making this project a reality.

1 See: Quote Investigator, “Good Artists Copy; Great

2

ROBERT HIRSCH

Grand Island, New York

xiii

Artists Steal,” March 6, 2013, https://quoteinvestigator. com/2013/03/06/artists-steal/ Quoted in Margaret MacMillan,“History—Handle with Care.” Oxford Today, January 19, 2010, www.oxfordtoday. ox.ac.uk/features/history-handle-care#

PAUL NADAR. The Art of Living a Hundred Years, 1886. Each image is 5¾ × 4 inches. Photogravures. COURTESY  George Eastman Museum, Rochester, NY.

Acknowledgments routledge book team Natalie Foster, Editor Rachel Feehan, Editorial Assistant Lauren Ellis, Production Editor Mary Dalton, Copy-editor Jacqueline Dias, Proofreader Balsa Delibasic, Indexer Siân Cahill, Production Manager Alex Lazarou, Book Designer

hirsch projects book team Dr. Hanin Hannouch, Curator for Analog and Digital Media at the Weltmuseum Wien, Vienna, Austria, Project Editor Professor Edward Bateman of the University of Utah, Associate Editor Ruby Merritt, Project Manager

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CHAPTER ONE

Advancing Towards Photography: The Rise of the Reproduction

A DESIRE FOR VISUAL REPRESENTATION The concept of photography existed long before the invention of the camera. A primary function of visual arts originates in the desire to create a likeness of someone or something that society deemed worth commemorating. Dating back to cave paintings as well as to Plato’s Cave, according to Susan Sontag and other critics, this human urge to make pictures that augment the faculty of memory by capturing time is at the conceptual base of photography.1 Since ancient times, artists and inventors have searched for ways to expedite the societal desire for an affordable and repeatable picturemaking process. Eventually, they concentrated their technical efforts on how to automatically capture a “truthful” likeness directly formed by light. The Cueva de las Manos cave (Cave of Hands) and rock art sites feature stenciled outlines of human hands along with depictions of animals and hunting scenes. Most of the depictions are of left hands, suggesting that painters held bone spraying pipes in their right hands. The art was created in several waves between 7300 BC and AD 700. The age of the paintings was calculated by radiocarbon dating from the remains of bone pipes. In the absence of documents written by the artists, the interpretation of such paintings relies on a mixture

UNKNOWN ARTISTS. The Cueva de las Manos Cave Painting, Patagonia, Argentina, circa 7000 BC.

of scientific exploration via radiocarbon dating as well as speculation as to the meaning of the iconography presented. As early as the fifth century BCE, the Chinese philosopher Mo Ti discovered that light reflecting from an illuminated object and passing through a pinhole into a darkened area would form an exact, though inverted, image of that object, offering a prototype of the pinhole (lensless) camera. In the West, the first recorded description of the pinhole was made by the Greek philosopher Aristotle, who around 330 BCE, during a partial solar eclipse, observed the

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crescent-shaped image of the sun projected through a small opening between the leaves of a tree. When these observations were first formalized into a camera remains uncertain, but by the tenth century CE, the Arabian mathematician Alhazen (Ibn Al-Haitham) demonstrated how a pinhole could act as an image-projecting instrument and that altering the size of the aperture could affect the image’s sharpness. Although Roger Bacon’s treatises, De Scientia Perspectivae and De multiplicatione specierum (circa 1267), do not specifically mention the camera, they indicate he used the optical principles to contrive an arrangement of mirrors in order to project images of eclipses, as well as street scenes and interior views of his house. In Perspectiva communis (1279), John Peckham, the Archbishop of Canterbury and a likely student of Bacon, made remarks about observing a solar eclipse through a pinhole in a dark room. The evolution of the camera can be linked to a new Western concentration on science with

an increased reliance on observation during the European Renaissance, a period from about the fourteenth to the seventeenth century. With new discoveries based on experimentation and observation, fifteenth-century artists and scientists, such as Leonardo da Vinci and Nicolaus Copernicus, provided a veritable process that meant people no longer had to accept the authority of the unprovable.2 Instead, they could look to an open system that was not predicated on belief and magic. Science offered an alternative to blind faith, and the foundation of belief for educated society began shifting toward objective, documentable, repeatable facts. In addition to praying for their invisible souls to be accepted into an unknowable heaven, scientifically minded people also built large ocean-going sailing ships and complex machines to carry their physical bodies out of the Old World and into a new, material world.

ATHANASIUS KIRCHER. Illustration of a large portable camera obscura from Ars Magna, Lucis et Umbrae (The Great Art of Light and Shadow), Rome, 1646, page 807. Engraving.

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In 1646, Athanasius Kircher, a German Jesuit scholar and professor in Rome, described and illustrated a portable camera obscura that could be carried on poles by two people. It consisted of an opaque, outer cube with a lens in the center of each wall, and an inner cube of transparent paper for drawing on. The artist entered the device via a trapdoor in the floor.

Improvements in mapmaking during the fifteenth century reduced three-dimensional space into two-dimensional guides, producing geometrically consistent maps and changes in pictorial description. For the first time, mapmakers began to refrain from rendering opaque surfaces as if they were transparent, dispensing with fixed spatial coordinates, or adjusting the size and position of a site according to its cultural significance. Such improvements, made possible by scientific thinking, coincided with the advent of printed, illustrated books and meant that identical, mass-produced, visual information reached a wider audience.6 At the time, the incunabula were expensive collector pieces with limited circulation. The printed and multiplied image promised a wider reach than what was feasible at the time. Illustrated printed books, as we know them, began appearing at the start of the seventeenth century and quickly gained popularity due to the thriving of commercial publishing.

PERSPECTIVE Perspective drawing allows artists to depict a three-dimensional space on a flat surface. Although a system of perspective was known to the Romans, not until around 1413 did Filippo Brunelleschi of Italy devise the linear perspective we know.3 In this system, objects are foreshortened as they recede into space and lines converge to vanishing points that correspond to the spectator’s viewpoint. Leon Battista Alberti’s treatise On Painting (1435) was dedicated to Brunelleschi and provides descriptions for using geometrical linear perspective in picturemaking.4 Alberti compared the picture plane to a window:

THINKING OF PHOTO GRAPHY In 1490, Leonardo da Vinci (1452–1519) wrote the earliest surviving description of the camera obscura (dark chamber), a device designed to reproduce linear perspective.7 The camera obscura, the prototype of the photographic camera, was a large dark room that an artist physically entered. Light filtered through a small hole in one of the walls and projected a distinct, but inverted, color image onto the opposite wall that could then be traced. Art historian Kenneth Clark stated that before Leonardo, “Alberti invented a device which seems to have been a sort of camera obscura, the images of which he called ‘miracles of painting.’ ” 8 German artist Albrecht Dürer (1471–1528) was one of the first to ingeniously adapt these camera-based principles of perspective and proportion to his drawings.9 In 1558, Giovanni

Let me tell you what I do when I am painting. First of all, on the surface which I am going to paint I draw a quadrangle of right angles of whichever size I want, which I regard as an open window through which the subject to be painted is seen.5

Other artists soon converted Alberti’s theoretical window into an actual one by drawing on a vertical piece of glass while looking through an eyepiece located opposite the center of the pane, establishing the visual convention of constructing a scene through monocular vision: viewing through one eye at one place at one time. This artificial window was subsequently replicated when light passed through a pinhole onto a vertical plane to form an image in the manner noted by Mo Ti.

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The Annunciation, 1472‒1476. 39 x 85 inches. Oil and tempera on poplar panel. The subject matter of this painting derives from The Gospel of Luke that tells of the stories of the origins, birth, ministry, death, resurrection, and ascension of Jesus Christ. Utilizing Alberti’s geometrical linear perspective, Leonardo depicts the angel Gabriel announcing to Mary that she would conceive miraculously and give birth to a son to be named Jesus and called “the Son of God,” whose reign would never end. COURTESY

Uffizi Gallery, Florence, Italy.

Battista della Porta published his treatise Magiae naturalis (Natural Magic), describing the camera obscura and how it could make drawing easier:

world by converting it into two-dimensional images, changing how people saw the world. In 1589 della Porta discussed the use of a mirror to reverse the image that was reflected backward in the camera obscura; this is the basis of the contemporary single-lens reflex camera. He also told of staging night-time, torch-light dramas, accompanied by live music, and employing the camera obscura to view them on a screen inside his house, demonstrating that the camera could be used for narrative purposes as well, and setting the precedent for future lightshows and installations. Girolamo Cardano’s De Subtilitate (1550) mentioned attaching a biconvex lens (a lens curved on both sides so it is thickest in the middle) to a camera obscura, making its image brighter and sharper. Daniele Barbaro’s treatise La Pratica della perspettiva (1568) described how fitting a diaphragm to the biconvex lens allowed the amount of light passing through the lens to be controlled, enhancing

The manner in which one can perceive in the dark the things which on the outside are illuminated by the sun, and with their color … will make possible for anyone ignorant of the art of painting to draw with a pencil or pen the image [made by a camera obscura] of any object whatsoever.10

Johannes Gutenberg’s perfection of the moveable type printing press (circa 1436) indirectly triggered a revolution in lens making during the Renaissance, as people now wanted eyeglasses so they could read more effortlessly. Improved lenses led to better eyeglasses, telescopes, microscopes, and cameras, which changed our understanding of science, our view of the world, and our place within it. In turn, the more widespread use of lenses flattened the physical

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depth-of-field—the range in front of and behind a focused subject in which detail appears sharp— and forming a sharper image. By 1611, Johannes Kepler had built a proto-portable camera: a humansize tent that could be dismantled and transported to make drawing easier. By the mid-seventeenth century, a scaled-down modification of Kepler’s device meant that one did not have to enter into the camera but could remain outside of it and view an image projected onto a translucent window, a forerunner to the first truly portable cameras. By the end of the seventeenth century, advances in lens making included the correction of aberrations to give better resolution. Also, the ability to vary focal lengths allowed the production of different image sizes based on the specific needs of portrait and landscape artists. Image size is proportional to a lens’s focal length, the distance from the center of the lens to the point of sharp focus; the longer the focal length, the greater the magnification of the image. Instruction manuals for matching lenses with cameras and situations became necessary. The optics of the camera obscura were simultaneously ideal and natural, reflecting the empirical, scientific, and humanitarian trends of the Enlightenment. Drawing shifted from the private act of a highly trained individual to a broader commercial enterprise that incorporated ideas of mass production and standardization (making exact copies), as seen in rationalistic works such as Denis Diderot’s Encyclopédie (1751–1777). By the close of the eighteenth century the camera had been tailored along the lines of Renaissance pictorial standards to help fulfill a cultural demand to make drawing easier and quicker.

drawings and paintings because they depicted the world according to linear perspective. The camera obscura was popular with artists because it automatically modified a scene by compressing form and emphasizing tonal mass according to Western pictorial standards. The camera was not designed as a radical device to unleash a new way of seeing, but evolved to produce a predefined look that took into consideration formulas and procedures such as composition, angle and point of view, quality of light, and selection of subject matter. What was being represented remained unchanged. This does not diminish the camera’s importance in defining an image. As with most inventions, unforeseen side effects create unintentional changes. As imagemakers became more sophisticated they routinely used specific cameras and lenses to shape an image, and knowledgeable viewers can often trace the connections between the camera/lens and the resulting picture. As in, photographers increasingly exercised agency in relation to the machine, crafting and designing the image as they pleased instead of being at the mercy of what it can generate. Recent research indicates that Italian Baroque painter Caravaggio (1571–1610), known for his dramatic rendering of chiaroscuro (light and shadow), used optical instruments and a darkened room to “take pictures” of his models 200 years before photography was invented. The researcher hypothesizes that “Caravaggio ‘fixed’ the image, using light-sensitive substances, for around half an hour during which he used white lead mixed with chemicals and minerals that were visible in the dark to paint the image with broad strokes.”11 A discussion surrounding the rise of camera vision, how a camera visually organizes a scene, often focuses on Dutch painter Johannes Vermeer (1632–1675). While adroit artists like Vermeer, who most likely used a camera, did not need one to physically produce their pictures, the camera did act as a gathering device of fresh approaches for composing space, observing light, and portraying

CAMERA VISION Although they were internally organized by machines—cameras—early photographs resembled

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cultural models in innovative ways.12 Vermeer’s uncanny domestic interiors possess qualities now considered photographic: tight use of space, “unbalanced” compositions, unexpected points of view, exact descriptions of light at specific times of day, concentration on what is happening on the edges of the frame, attention given to detail, use of points of focus, and representation, through stillness, of time.13 His work demonstrates how the camera doesn’t merely capture nature or reflect existing beauty but originates entirely new ways of visualizing the world.14

society’s desire for multiple copies of an accurate visual description of one’s presence and social status. The mechanical and scientific nature of the process gave it the power of authenticity. A prototype for an entity like photography, it possessed a key characteristic of what society wanted but had not yet developed: a system for the multiple reproduction of a visual subject that has been directly transcribed from the outer world. This indexicality refers to the ability to produce a direct visual likeness presumably without the intervention of an artist or technician’s hand. Said differently, indexicality is an understanding of visual likeness in photography as the result of mechanical processes operating independently, even outside, of human manual intervention. For some theorists, this paradigm for understanding the genesis of the image would become the essence of what we call photography.15 The start of the nineteenth century saw the introduction of Aloys Senefelder’s 1796 invention of lithography that provided a more cost-effective means for the mass production and distribution of printed pictures.16 About this time wood engraving was also revitalized to meet the demand for multiple pictures. Other devices to facilitate personal picturemaking followed. The camera lucida, invented in 1807 by the English scientist William Hyde Wollaston (1766–1828), was an optical instrument (not a camera) designed to help one overcome a lack of drawing skill.17 The camera lucida consisted of a glass prism, held at eye level by a brass rod attached to a flat, portable drawing board. One looked into a peephole at the center of the prism and simultaneously saw both the subject and the drawing surface. The idea was to let one’s pencil be guided by the “virtual” image and to trace that image onto a sheet of paper attached to a drawing board. In practice the camera lucida was difficult to operate, and frustration with this machine would lead a later photographic pioneer, Henry Fox Talbot, to find an automatic way to record a scene without lifting his pencil.

THE DEMAND FOR PICTUREMAKING SYSTEMS In the eighteenth century, a rising commercial class wanted to be commemorated in the same pictorial style as royalty and the wealthy. Inventors had commercial incentives to harness the camera for portrait making, as less training would decrease the cost of making a picture. Machine-based systems for producing multiple copies of objects were on the threshold of overtaking handmade methods. One such picturemaking machine was the physionotrace. Invented by Gilles Louis Chrétien in 1786, it combined two inexpensive methods of portraiture, the cutout silhouette and the engraving. An operator could trace a profile onto glass using a stylus connected to an engraving tool that replicated the gestures of the stylus onto a copper plate at a reduced scale. A tracing could be done in about a minute, and multiple copies of the image could be made from the plate. Although it was not a camera, the physionotrace reduced portrait making to a mechanical operation that required only moderate hand‒eye coordination. It expanded the portrait market to the middle class while imitating the style of the miniaturist painters. The physionotrace satisfied

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PROTOPHOTO GRAPHERS: CHEMICAL ACTION OF LIGHT

Schulze had uncovered a new method of representing an image—ironically, of text—by the action of light in conjunction with silver. Although Schulze made no attempt to permanently fix his results, his findings were duplicated and published in England in 1763 by William Lewis. Upon Lewis’s death, Josiah Wedgwood, the renowned English potter, purchased his notebooks and hired his former assistant (see following section on Thomas Wedgwood).19 By the 1760s, the prediction that something on the order of photography would be generated as the result of information accrued through scientific inquiries into chemistry, color, and light appeared in Norman Tiphaigne de La Roche’s allegorical novel, Giphantie (1760) (English translation, Giphantia, 1761). Tiphaigne equated a large hall to a camera obscura, whose walls carried a “painting” that precisely traced a storm at sea. He then imagined “elementary spirits” that “fix these passing images” on material soaked in a “very subtle substance,” making a permanent image “much more precious than anyone can produce, and so perfect that time cannot destroy it.”20

As modern chemistry further mapped the laws of cause and effect on the minutest of scales in the seventeenth century, manufacturing industries were now able to produce and supply experimenters with somewhat reliable chemicals and equipment. By 1614 Angelo Sala had recorded the darkening effects of silver nitrate on exposure to sunlight. In the 1700s, various salts of silver, especially silver nitrate, were found to dye feathers, furs, and leather permanently black. Each new discovery and invention suggested that combining the camera and optical systems with the chemical action of light could produce a mechanized image directly from life. In 1727, Johann Heinrich Schulze (1687–1744) set out to repeat a sixteenth-century alchemist’s experiment to make a luminescent substance he called phosphorous [sic]. One of the ingredients Schulze used, aqua regia (nitric acid), was impure; it contained silver. When he mixed it with calcium carbonate (chalk), Schulze accidentally created calcium nitrate and silver carbonate, which to his surprise turned a deep purple on exposure to sunlight. He repeated the experiment using heat from a fire and observed no change, deducing that this chemical reaction was caused by light, not heat. Schulze wrote: I covered most of the glass with dark material, exposing a little part for the free entry of light. Thus I often wrote names and whole sentences on paper and carefully cut away the inked parts with a sharp knife. I stuck the paper thus perforated on the glass with wax. It was not long before the sun’s rays, where they hit the glass through the cut-out parts of the paper, wrote each word or sentence on the chalk precipitate so exactly and distinctly that many who were curious about the experiment but ignorant of its nature took occasion to attribute the thing to some sort of trick.18

UNKNOWN ARTIST. Camera Lucida in Use Drawing Small Figurine, 1879. Scientific American Supplement, January 11, 1879.

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In With a View to a New Art of Dying and Painting (1794), Elizabeth Fulhame suggested that maps could be made using silver imprinted by the action of light. Her work demonstrated that the chemistry to make a photographic process was in place; what was needed was the stimulus to combine the components into a new form. The character of the thing called “photography” was not found at a single source. Hindsight reveals that proto-photographers had multiple purposes and destinations. At the opening of the nineteenth century, Thomas Wedgwood (1771–1805), the son of Josiah Wedgwood, experimented with placing flat objects and painted transparencies on top of white leather and paper sensitized with silver nitrate. His experiments verified the feasibility of chemically transferring images of objects and pictures through the agency of light, establishing the foundation of silver-based camera photography. His work was described by the British chemist Humphry Davy (1778–1829) in the Journals of the Royal Institution for 1802:

light upon nitrate of silver” instead of hand tracing. Although he did not achieve this goal, the rationale suited the emerging tenets of the modern era by substituting mechanical work for human labor. His published efforts point toward the invention of a photographic system that brings together the direct action of light to chemically record an image constructed by a camera.

MODERNITY: NEW VISUAL REALITIES The nineteenth century ushered in the urban, industry-based movement known as modernity. The modern era unleashed vast new resources in finance, management, and technology, leading to self-sustaining capitalist growth that shook and eventually swept away the foundations of ancient European regimes. Potent new directions in science, philosophy, and the arts also accompanied these unprecedented economic, political, and demographic changes. Such fundamental displacements produced ruptures in the societal framework that allowed the notions about the camera and its optics to be recast in different terms. The new and expanding capitalist economy and its urban labor force demanded more visual information. So too did the widespread colonial domination, perpetuated by numerous European powers such as Belgium, France, and Germany, over the majority of the globe. The forceful extraction of people and resources from the colonies increased the demands for photographs from these places that would result in new visual representations, such as colonial photography, human zoos, dioramas etc. present in European metropoles. Daily life was accelerating and changing as never before. Machines, such as the railroad, the steamship, the telegraph, and the iron printing press, were moving people and information at paces once considered

White paper or white leather, moistened with solution of nitrate of silver, undergoes no change when kept in a dark place; but, on being exposed to day light, it speedily changes colour, and, after passing through different shades of grey and brown, becomes at length nearly black … When the shadow of any figure is thrown upon the prepared surface, the part concealed by it remains white, and the other parts speedily become dark.21

The paradoxical problem with these profiles, antecedents of photograms (cameraless photographic images), was that the light that created them and that was needed to view them also brought about their destruction. Wedgwood could not stop the action of additional light from causing an image to darken until it disappeared into blackness. Consequently, he could only show the profiles by candlelight. Still, Wedgwood’s underlying concept was vital, which according to Davy was to “copy” images of the camera obscura “by the agency of

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impossible. With the advent of state-subsidized education in England and France, literacy was on the rise. The more people learned, the more information they wanted. Newspapers and the penny presses increased circulation, their pages filled with new “human interest” stories and engraved illustrations. Publishers learned that pictures helped to sell their product, and by 1842 the world’s first picture weekly, the Illustrated London News, was circulating. Realism, depiction without obvious distortion or stylization, was on the rise in literature and in painting. People wanted to know exactly what their world looked like, and the photographic image was ready to arrive at this ripe moment with the type of proof they had been prepared to accept. The classical view of nature as a perpetual, immobile entity had begun to shift with the dynamics of the Industrial Revolution. Pre-photography thinkers like Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1749–1832), Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel (1770–1831), and Immanuel Kant (1724–1804) were transforming nature into an active, living, and tumultuous organism that shifted form and appearance depending on who was observing it. In Paris and London in the 1770s, Philippe Jacques de Loutherbourg combined magic lanterns (a predecessor of the slide projector), automata with clock drives (that is, mechanical toys), and painted glass transparencies to create a new form of visual entertainment. The invention in 1784 of the Argand Oil Lamp, the first modern lighting system, made it possible for a concentrated beam of light to project images onto a screen, giving Loutherbourg the idea for his eidophusikon. The eidophusikon consisted of a miniature theater with a stage 6 feet high, 10 feet wide, and 8 feet deep. Colored glass slides, illuminated by concealed Argand lights, produced a multitude of colors. Sound and weather effects were created by revolving cylinders filled with shells and stones and thin sheets of copper, while a harpsichord provided music. Loutherbourg’s financial success allowed him to create a visual show based on Captain Cook’s voyages, which the Daily Universal

Register (later The Times) in 1788 hailed as “the most magnificent [spectacle] that modern times has produced … bring[ing] into living action the customs and manners of distant nations—to see exact representations of their buildings, marine vessels, arms, manufactures, sacrifices and dresses.”22 In Paris in 1800, Étienne-Gaspard Robert and Paul de Philipsthal unveiled the phantasmagoria. Illuminated by the Argand Oil Lamp, the phantasmagoria was an advanced magic lantern that created rear-screen image projections of ghosts, skeletons, and celebrities in a semi-darkened theater. Special effects of lightning, thunder, and smoke enhanced the eerie atmosphere. One popular scene, “Dance of the Witches” used multiple light sources to create moving projections that appeared to advance on the audience, only to vanish just as they seemed ready to leap off the screen. A group of magic lanterns with comb-like shutters focused on the same spot on the screen, so that one image could blend into the next, making viewers less conscious of the mechanics and more likely to be swept away by the visual illusions. In 1826 the Drummond Light, popularly called limelight,23 replaced the Argand light. Limelight not only transformed the look of stage productions, it permitted magic lanterns to project a more powerful and accurate beam of light, facilitating larger audiences. The acceptance of the camera-projected image as fact began to change the perception of the magic lantern from a toy of amusement to a tool for education and social change. These innovative devices typify how the science-based Industrial Revolution transformed how the world was viewed, altered public desires and places, while signaling an emergence of new forms of representation and entertainment in the visual arts. Gothic horror, a fictional mixture of horror stories and romanticism, was what the public came to see in these live productions, but these new devices utilized in popular theater also retrained people in what they would accept and expect in a system of visual representation. As the demand

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Phantasmagoria at the Cour des Capucines, 1797. Frontispiece of E.G. Robertson’s Mémoires récréatifs, scientifiques et anecdotiques du physicienaéronaute, Volume 1, 1831. Belgian inventor and physicist Étienne-Gaspard “Robertson” Robert was known for his phantasmagoria productions. His hauntings entertainment was staged in the abandoned cloisters kitchen of a Capuchin convent that he set up as a subterranean chapel, using several lanterns and special sound effects to generate an eerie and frightening atmosphere. Robert claimed he was only gratified if his spectators were shivering and shuddering, raising their hands, or covering their eyes out of the fear of ghosts and devils that were dashing towards them.

for beauty and truth was thus reshaped, many minds set out to satisfy the new hunger. Artists, realizing that verisimilitude was an avenue toward acceptance, recognition, and financial success, felt the incentive to get the details “right.” Various visual presenting systems, such as the Cosmorama, Goerama, Neorama, and Uranorama, were tried, but the one that captured the public’s imagination as being visually authentic was the panorama. The panorama presented a picture on a large, cylindrical surface, with the spectator in the center, or else a picture that unrolled in front of the viewer to reveal its parts in sequence. In 1794, the Irish-born painter Robert Barker built a circular exhibition space in London’s Leicester Square and

presented a 1,479-square-foot painted canvas of the city.24 Barker’s multi-sheet, bird’s-eye view situated the audience in the center of London. It was a commercial hit and the idea was widely imitated in other countries, including the United States. In 1815, Louis Jacques Mandé Daguerre (1787–1851) was considered Paris’s leading theatrical designer. His trompe l’œil (fool the eye) dramatic effects were particularly successful. Trompe l’œil refers to the illusion that one is seeing an actual subject and not a two-dimensional representation of it. In 1822, Daguerre opened his first 350-seat diorama theater. The diorama consisted of a dark circular seating chamber in front of which large, flat painted scenes on translucent

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linen were represented. Each picture was seen through a 2,800-square-foot calico window that was painted half opaque. The opaque portion was frontally lit and the translucent part was illuminated from behind, producing the startling illusion that the picture emitted a radiant light and was not on a flat surface, and that certain objects within the scene moved, such as an avalanche of snow. The color, brightness, and direction of the light was controlled through a system of cords, pulleys, shutters, and slides, and its pictorial effects were soon enhanced with real animals, stage props, and sound effects.25 The diorama was an immediate success and, as an astute impresario, Daguerre went on to build an elaborate amphitheater in London, with 200 seats capable of pivoting viewers from scene to scene. Such scenes included the staging of the life of people in the colonies of France, often in service of French nationalist ideology, the display of “Otherness” and the exoticization of countries beyond Western Europe. Daguerre’s dioramas indicate his wide-ranging understanding of visual culture, and they altered the way the public experienced a picture. The moving diorama is a harbinger of how mechanical devices can control human behavior. In it, viewers gave up their autonomy and became part of a machine that determined how much time they would spend looking at a scene. Daguerre’s dioramas also collapsed the single point-of-view perspective that painting had built up over centuries. All this happened without audiences objecting to giving up their familiar way of seeing. In fact, novelty was sought out as an amusement. Associating the “new” with being creative and worthy became a hallmark of modernity.

was eager to consume new images of reality. New visual thinking, based on ideas from machines, altered cultural constructs and perception while retraining public expectations of how the world was represented. The kaleidoscope, invented by Sir David Brewster (1781–1868) in 1815, mechanically modified visual experience through repetition and symmetry. The device exemplifies how science and technology give a subject the appearance of simultaneously being repeated, transformed, and fragmented, challenging the traditional narrative framework of the visual arts.26 The optical phenomenon of a retinal afterimage, the presence of a visual sensation in the absence of a visual stimulus, as discussed by Goethe in his Theory of Colours (1810), began to affect how science observed the world.27 Goethe stated that whatever a healthy eye saw was “optical truth,” and that there was no such thing as an optical illusion. The eye constituted a model of autonomous vision: the optical experience is produced by and within the person. Goethe’s theory challenged the Aristotelian belief in the truthfulness of optical perception by tethering the act of observation to the body, fusing time and vision.28 Additional empirical studies of Goethe’s ideas were carried out in Germany during the early 1820s by Jan Purkinje, who was able to time how long it took the eye to become fatigued and how long for the pupil to contract and dilate. Such studies gave rise to scientific optical devices that were transformed into popular entertainment. The thaumatrope, or “wonder-turner,” was manufactured in 1825 as an optical toy based on afterimage research. It consisted of a disk, about two inches in diameter, with a drawing on each side and strings attached through holes drilled on opposite sides of the circle. One side of the disk might picture a baldheaded man, the other side a wig. When the disk was spun, the man would appear to have hair on his head. The wonder-turner proved that perception was not instantaneous and demonstrated the contrived and delusionary nature of image formation.

OPTICAL DEVICES A burgeoning middle class, concerned with appearances that would convey its ideas of higher status,

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Such devices demonstrated the fractures between perception and the subject being perceived. The Belgian physicist Joseph Plateau’s afterimage experiments in the late 1820s defined the theory of persistence of vision,29 which had been documented by the Greek mathematician Euclid and then later in experiments by Newton. The theory states that if several objects that differ sequentially in form and position are rapidly viewed one after another, the impression they produce on the retina is of a single object that’s changing its form and position. Since an image impression lingers for a fraction of a second, individual images appear to be in continuous motion, as in a flip-book. Devices like this and the zoetrope, a rotating cylinder with slits, through which one or more people could see sequential, simulated action drawings of acrobats, boxers, dancers, and jugglers, permitted an immobile viewer to have a machine-generated visual experience unfold over time. Plateau went on to invent an early stroboscopic device in 1836, the phenakistiscope. The device contained a sequence of images that when projected produced the illusion of motion, which paved the way for the development of cinema (see Chapter 8 for details).

professional, and social practices governing how these pictures would be made, circulated, understood, and accepted.

joseph nicéphore niépce: first photographer Joseph Nicéphore Niépce (1765–1833), who came from a prominent family in the Burgundy region of France, developed the first system for making images permanent through the direct action of light. Niépce (pronounced Neeepps) was enthralled with lithography, but he lacked the drawing skills the process required. Originally, he sought to mechanically transfer an image to a lithography stone without having to draw it, but in 1814 Niépce and his elder brother, Claude, shifted direction and undertook experiments to “spontaneously” create original pictures through the camera instead of copying previously existing images. This makes Niépce the first to actively pursue and successfully create a process of making a permanent camera image. By 1816 the major chemical and optical elements for the invention of photography were present in Niépce’s experiments. Niépce was able to precisely describe to Claude his first photographic procedures, with the use of cameras, biconvex lenses, and diaphragms. These experiments, on paper sensitized with “muriate d’argent” (silver chloride), were abandoned by Niépce only because he obtained negatives instead of positives. Niépce could temporarily “fix” the prints by washing them and was able to send some of these “épreuves” (prints) to Claude. Photographic historian André Gunthert notes: “What is a print on sensitized paper, from an outdoor view, realized into a camera obscura, that could be sent by post and observed by a distant viewer, some days later, if not a photographic picture?”30 If we accept this proposal, then 1816 can mark the beginning of what people would come to call photography.

IMAGES THROUGH LIGHT: A STRUGGLE FOR PERMANENCE As a new scientific and technological order emerged in the nineteenth century, the old ways began to wobble and fail from the pressure of new experiences, and innovative theories were needed to contain them. The run-up to the invention of photography resulted from the application of quantifiable knowledge to fulfill a capitalist cultural demand for a practical, automatic, and repeatable picturemaking system based on light and optics. Its invention marked the establishment of aesthetic,

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JOSEPH NICÉPHORE NIÉPCE. View from His Window at Le Gras, circa 1827. 6 9⁄16 x 7 15⁄16 × approx. 1⁄16 inches (thickness, or depth front to back). Heliograph on pewter. This untitled “point de vue” is the earliest known surviving photograph produced in the camera obscura. Photographic historian Helmut Gernsheim (1913–1995) is credited with “re-discovering” this plate and controlled the narrative about it during his lifetime.31 Gernsheim heavily retouched this enhanced reproduction made by the Kodak Research laboratory in 1952. He did this to make Niépce’s original image more comprehensible, as it can be challenging to discern it without such a visual guide, especially when reproduced in ink. Paradoxically, Gernsheim was very critical of photographers who hand-altered their work. COURTESY

The Gernsheim Collection, Harry Ransom Center, The University of Texas at Austin.

JOSEPH NICÉPHORE NIÉPCE. Digital reproduction made by Jack Ross, Ellen Rosenbery, and Anthony Peres, J. Paul Getty Museum, 2002, digital reproduction of Niépce’s View from His Window at Le Gras, circa 1827. Heliograph on pewter. This digital reproduction gives a more accurate representation of what the plate actually looks like when viewed in person. COURTESY

The Gernsheim Collection, Harry Ransom

Center, University of Texas at Austin.

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In 1822, Niépce discovered that bitumen of Judea, a lithographer’s material made from asphaltum (a natural tar pitch), was sensitive to light. Niépce knew bitumen of Judea was soluble in lavender oil and would harden when exposed to light. His vital discovery was that bitumen of Judea loses its solubility in lavender oil after exposure to light. Niépce was able to take a paper engraving of Pope Pius VII, place it in contact with the tar pitch-treated lithography stone, and expose it to sunlight for about two hours. He then “developed” it in a solution of petroleum and lavender oil, realizing the societal dream of an “automatic” picture (although the stone was not camera-based). Today we would say that Niépce made a latent (unseen) image, that when developed formed a negative (reversed) image of the original. As early as 1824, Niépce used this process to make his first actual camera image from nature on a lithographer’s stone, which he referred to as a point de vue. This marked the first time the active hand of the creator was removed from the direct recording of outer reality. There is still disagreement among historians as to when Niépce first made a permanent view from nature with a camera. Some state it was as early as 1822, others say it was 1824, and still other experts claim 1826 or even 1827.32 A book written by Niépce’s son Isidore in 1841 indicates 1824 was the first time Niépce “achieved definitive fixing of images from the camera obscura onto his screen. Although these marvelous products were still imperfect, the problem had been resolved.”33 This remains a fluid situation as historians debate the evidence and semantics, and this date may change. Regardless, Niépce refined the process, coating a piece of pewter with bitumen of Judea dissolved in lavender oil, placing the plate into his camera obscura, and making an extended daylight exposure.34 The improvements resulted in what is believed to be the oldest surviving photograph produced with a camera. The image is difficult to recognize; nevertheless, this picture can still convey its original sense of magical wonderment, making

Niépce the first photographer. Niépce wrote to his brother Claude: I succeeded in obtaining a point de vue … from my workroom in Gras using my C[amera] O[bscura] and my largest stone. The image of the objects is represented with a clarity, an astonishing fidelity, complete with myriad details and with nuances of extreme delicacy. To get the effect, one must look at the stone from an oblique angle … and I must say my dear friend, this effect is truly something magical.35

By the late 1820s, Niépce had revised his working techniques to use silver-surfaced copper plates to deliver a problematic, one-of-a-kind positive image that lacked a full tonal range, had excessive contrast, was hard to see, and required extensive time to make. Because Niépce’s camera images were not able to withstand the chemical treatment he devised to produce prints in ink, a process he named heliogravures,36 he reconceptualized them as unique images, which he called héliographes. However, Niépce realized his process needed crucial revisions to be productive. (The latest research on Niépce’s life and work is available at www.archivesniepce.com.)

LOUIS JACQUES MANDÉ DAGUERRE : FIRST DIRECT POSITIVE PRO CESS In 1825 Daguerre wrote to Niépce proposing they collaborate.37  Daguerre’s enormous diorama paintings were made in a realistic, picturesque style by Daguerre and the artist Jean Bouton, and they took an enormous amount of time to produce. An automated picturemaking device would save the diorama’s creators both time and money. Not only could it serve as a perspectival drawing aid, but also it would allow Daguerre to examine the effects of

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light and shadow that were indicative of his luminous, diorama creations. In December of 1829, Niépce and Daguerre signed a contract agreeing “to share all knowledge, honor, and profit” from their collaboration.38  Daguerre’s assets included funding for research, determination, energy, experience in gauging public taste, friends in prominent places, and credibility and recognition as an artist with public acclaim. The pair worked separately and corresponded in coded letters. In the summer of 1833, with success still eluding them, Niépce died of a stroke. His son, Isidore Niépce (1805–1868), replaced him in the partnership, but he did not offer much new research. Daguerre, with the benefit of Niépce’s knowledge, continued on his own. By 1831, Daguerre had been taking highly polished, silvered plates, sensitizing them in the dark with heated iodine crystals’ vapor (forming silver iodine), and immediately placing them in the camera and making one-hour exposures in bright sunlight. This process delivered, without development, a highly detailed negative image. A breakthrough came in late 1834, when Daguerre developed the plates after the exposure with heated mercury vapor. Although Daguerre claimed he discovered the usefulness of mercury accidentally, chemical ingredients like mercury have their roots in alchemical texts. Mercury was considered to be the dissolver, the active principal of things, making it a logical choice for experiments, which Daguerre likely knew.39  A whitish amalgam of silver and mercury formed on the plate where it had been exposed to light, making a fragile but incredibly detailed, camera-recorded image. This image can be seen as a positive or as a negative, depending on how light strikes the plate. When the shiny, mirror-like surface reflected with a dark background, the picture was positive. When the background reflected as bright or light-colored, the picture appeared as a washed-out negative image. The mercury development had the beneficial side effect of reducing exposures to 20 minutes in bright sunlight. By late 1837, Daguerre was able to

make the image stable by treating it in a strong bath of sodium chloride (table salt). Daguerre and Isidore Niépce tried to market their secret process by subscription in 1838, which proved difficult. Daguerre knew the acceptance of his discovery would depend on more than its merits. He sought influential advocates and found an ideal personage in François Arago, an important scientist and politician.40 Arago immediately recognized the invention’s promise and wanted to make it France’s gift to the world. He persuaded Daguerre to abandon his subscription appeal and in the coming months put together an astute accord with the French government to award lifetime pensions to Daguerre and Niépce and present the process to the world.41 It would be free from licensing fees, except in England where Daguerre applied for a patent before the deal with the French government was finalized. But first the world needed to hear of the invention, and on January 7, 1839, Arago presented it to the Académie des sciences in Paris. Though the details remained secret, the news was out. Sir John Herschel (1792–1871), an astronomer and chemist, informed Daguerre of his own discovery that hyposulphite of soda (“hypo”) would “fix” his camera pictures and make them permanent (see section on Herschel later in this chapter). With this technical problem solved, Daguerre turned to the conceptual dilemma of whether his process actively made an image of nature or, using the gendered language of his time, simply made it possible for nature to “imprint an image of herself.” Daguerre neatly addressed the issue by writing: “… the DAGUERREOTYPE is not merely an instrument which serves to draw Nature; on the contrary it is a chemical and physical process which gives her the power to reproduce herself.”42 On August 19, 1839, amid rhapsodic promises of “economic advantages, immense service to art, [and how it would] excel the works of the most accomplished painters, in fidelity of detail and true reproduction of the local atmosphere,”43 Arago

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LOUIS JACQUES MANDÉ DAGUERRE. View of Boulevard du Temple, circa 1838/1839. 6.6 x 8 x 0.06 inches. Daguerreotype. Daguerre’s exposure time was so long (likely between four and five minutes) he was not able to capture the moving figures and traffic on this bustling Paris street. Only a man who remained still while a bootblack polished his shoes was recorded, making this anonymous individual the first person to be photographed. If accurate, this also reveals how the element of chance, in which events outside the control of the camera operator affect the outcome of the picture, has influenced photography since its inception.44 However, others have speculated that Daguerre posed these two individuals, as a companion piece of the same scene recorded no people. This would make a case that photographs have been constructions from their start and offers up the premise that it is only through conscious simulation that one can realize a convincing representation of reality. Also, keep in mind this is a mirror image, so what we are looking at is in reverse to its actual orientation.

described Daguerre’s process before an overflowing and electrified joint session of the Académie des sciences and the Académie des Beaux-Arts. Despite the expensive equipment and supplies, “Daguerréotypomanie” struck with force, hitting educated, upper-class society and its growing voracity for realistic images.45 Daguerre published a manual and arranged for the manufacture and sale of lenses and wooden

cameras, but his own interest in daguerreotypes rapidly subsided and he made very few plates after 1839. He moved to the country, revamped his gardens, and continued to create illusionist paintings. Was Daguerre simply exhausted after ushering in a new visual age? Was he satisfied with his accomplishments? Did the fire of 1839 that destroyed his diorama along with most of his works and papers leave him psychologically unable to work? Did

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he not wish to compete with the rest of the world on improving his process? Did the success of his process, which overshadowed his aesthetic accomplishments as a painter, leave him disheartened? Daguerre died in 1851, in relative obscurity and without much money, leaving many of the above questions unanswered.46

william henry fox talbot: the negative/positive process The news from across the Channel in January 1839 must have shocked William Henry Fox Talbot (1800–1877). Talbot, known as Henry, was a wealthy English gentleman (he inherited Lacock Abbey estate), scientist (he was elected to the Royal Society in 1832), and scholar (he earned a Master of Arts degree from Cambridge), who had independently devised a camera-based imaging process in October 1833, using the light-sensitivity of silver salts.47 In Talbot’s time, a well-educated person was expected to possess numerous skills, including the ability to draw. Talbot did not draw well and depended on optical devices for assistance. He later recounted his frustration with drawing, using the camera lucida and the camera obscura, during his honeymoon at picturesque Lake Como, Italy:

WILLIAM HENRY FOX TALBOT. Plant, circa 1835. 4 1⁄8 x 3 7⁄8 inches. Photogenic drawing. COURTESY

The Iris & B. Gerald Cantor Center for Visual Arts at Stanford

University, Stanford, CA.

For his first salted paper prints Talbot soaked sheets of ordinary writing paper with sodium chloride, permitted them to dry, and then recoated them with silver nitrate, forming silver chloride. He had discovered that silver chloride was more sensitive to light than silver nitrate and thus reduced exposure time. In Talbot’s method the image and the paper became one, as there was no separation between the emulsion and its support.50 In the printing-out process, the sensitized paper darkened swiftly when exposed to light. The image appeared spontaneously during exposure without chemical development. Once the image was complete, it was quickly fixed, removing or inactivating the unexposed silver chloride. Yet Talbot, like his predecessors, had difficulty fixing the image, eventually stabilizing prints with a strong solution of salt or potassium iodide. These first in-camera images, made in 1835, were negatives, and Talbot wanted direct positives. He solved the reversal

And this led me to reflect on the inimitable beauty of the pictures of nature’s paintings which the glass lens of the Camera throws upon the paper in its focus—fairy pictures, creatures of a moment, and destined as rapidly to fade away…. It was during these thoughts that the idea occurred to me … how charming it would be if it were possible to cause these natural images to imprint themselves durably, and remain fixed upon the paper! 48

In 1833, Talbot invented the salted paper print, a printing-out process that allowed him to make cameraless images of botanical specimens, engravings, pieces of lace, and even solar photomicrographs.49

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problem by taking the negative image and reprinting it in direct contact with an unexposed, treated piece of his paper, establishing a working nascent negative/positive photographic method. Although he had a successful conceptual solution, his research of 1834 first describes the negative/positive principle. However, Talbot’s materials at this time did not make a negative dense enough to produce a positive print with acceptable contrast and detail. To increase the sensitivity of the paper, Talbot repeatedly brushed it with alternating coats of salted water and silver nitrate in order to produce his first camera negatives. Talbot used tiny cameras that his wife Constance, who also took and developed images, making her the first female photographer, referred to as “little mouse traps.” 51 These instruments enabled the lens to focus the light onto a very small concentrated area, reducing exposure times to an hour or two. Talbot had set aside this work when the news of Daguerre’s process jolted him back into action. In January 1839, Talbot hurriedly sent some of his work to England’s Royal Society, stating:

produce a finished image. The photogenic drawings also did not compete with the exact verisimilitude of the daguerreotype. When the two processes were first compared, the future seemed to lie with the daguerreotype, which met the naturalistic aesthetic expectations of how a picture was supposed to look by supplying an easily recognizable trace of the subject. Daguerre, with his background in optical entertainment, was an experienced businessman and adroit showman who knew how to commercially promote his process to the public. Talbot was a scientist and an intellectual with interests in astronomy, linguistics, literature, mathematics, and optics. His earliest photography publication, Some Account of the Art of Photogenic Drawing ( January 1839),53 indicates awareness that the temporal premise of his process was different from other tracing methods; it brought together transitory and permanent elements. Talbot wrote that it took no less time or effort to record a simple subject than it did a complex one. For Talbot, photography’s theoretical purpose was to depict a subject in a fixed compositional order from a live moment, making time itself the ultimate subject of all photographs. Talbot’s regard for learning and experimentation led him to devise a new procedure, iodized paper,54 for making negatives. His breakthrough came accidentally. Having made an exposure that revealed no visible image, Talbot set it aside. When he looked at it later, an image had been formed. Talbot deduced that the gallic acid with which he brushed the paper prior to exposure had acted as a developer, causing an invisible latent image (encoded by light) to appear. Talbot called his new method calotype, from the Greek words kalos and tupos, meaning “beautiful print.” The calotype involved taking an exposed sheet of iodized paper into the darkroom and brushing it with gallic acid until a potent negative was developed. This negative was contact-printed onto unexposed, salted paper in sunlight to form a positive print. The procedure formalized photography

I obtained [with a tiny camera] very perfect, but extremely small [negative] pictures; such as without great stretch of the imagination might be supposed to be the work of some Lilliputian artist. They require indeed examination with a lens to discover all their minutiae. In the summer of 1835 I made in this way a great number of representations of my house in the country [Lacock Abbey]…. And this building I believe to be the first that was ever yet known to have drawn its own picture.52

Photogenic drawing, the term Talbot used to describe this early salted paper process, is the archetype for the silver printing-out papers of the nineteenth century. As it incorporated the textural imprint of the paper into the picture, the process produced a broad tonal range that favored volume and shape over detail. Talbot’s exposure times were excessive and the process initially appeared overly complex, involving a second series of steps to

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as a two-step process beginning with one tonally reversed (negative) image from which a (theoretically) infinite number of tonally correct positive copies could be produced. This concept formed the foundation for the silver-based negative/positive photographic system that reigned supreme until the arrival of digital imagemaking: A camera with a lens was used to record an unseen image on light-sensitive material that was chemically developed out to make a photograph.

In 1839, Herschel told Talbot that waxing the paper negative after processing would make it more transparent and easier to print.56 By the end of the year, he had invented a method of sensitizing a glass plate with silver halides and proceeded to photograph his father’s telescope, making the first glass-plate negative, from which he made prints on paper. Next, Herschel invented a method of making direct positive images on paper. Then, he prefigured the ambrotype (see Chapter 4) by demonstrating how his glass negative could be backed with black opaque material to produce a positive image. He discovered silver bromide was the most light-sensitive of the known silver halides, pointing the direction for reduced exposure times that would make portraiture practical. Herschel was able to record, but not fix, a natural color image of the spectrum, without the use of dyes or colorants, on silver chloride material, putting forward the possibility of full-color photographs. In 1842, Herschel published his research on the anthotype, a paper process sensitized with various plant juices that formed the final image by removing the unwanted parts of the emulsion through a bleach-out method and is a forerunner of the silver-dye-destruction processes, which were later used to make color prints from transparencies.57 Herschel rounded out the year with his invention of the cyanotype (blueprint) process, which he devised to make fast copies of his notes, foreshadowing the electrostatic copier. In the cyanotype process iron salts were absorbed into a sheet of paper that was exposed to sunlight in contact with a negative or a drawing on tracing paper. As its name suggests, cyanotype produced an image in Prussian blue, an image fixed by washing it in water (see Mungo Ponton’s shadowgraphs in the next section). Used by amateurs, mostly after the introduction of small, flexible, roll film cameras, the cyanotype was also adopted by shipbuilders to copy their working plans and utilized to copy line-based documents by architects (as “blue prints”) late into the twentieth

sir john herschel: fixing the image and photographic language Herschel had discovered in 1819 that hyposulphite of soda would dissolve silver salts. Learning of the work of Daguerre and Talbot, Herschel launched his own research into the light-sensitive properties of various silver halides and other chemicals. He made a negative image on paper, through a telescope, which he made permanent by treating it with hypo. By freely sharing this information with the early pioneers, Herschel provided the missing link in all their processes, of how to make the images permanent. Herschel, with a volatile, soaring imagination, is an ideal of learning. He set aside nationalism; openly shared knowledge; did not patent his findings; and did not commercially exploit his discoveries. Although Herschel never considered himself a photographer, his contributions shaped the founding concepts of photographic practice. He helped to establish basic terminology by consistently using the broader terms “photography” and “to photograph,”55 instead of the individualistic descriptions of heliography and photogenic drawing, creating a sense of unity where there had been none. Herschel also introduced the terms “negative” and “positive” (based on the study of magnetism with which Talbot was also familiar) and “emulsion,” helping to institute a common nomenclature.

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12 parts between 1843 and 1853, her effort was the earliest to use photo-based technology for producing cameraless pictures for the purpose of scientific investigation, “predating by several months any of Talbot’s commercially published camera-based photographic books.”59 Atkins, trained as a botanist, learned the photogenic drawing and the calotype methods directly from Talbot and the cyanotype from Herschel, a family friend, demonstrating how knowledge flowed between this scientifically minded community. She utilized photogenic drawing, arranging her specimens along with identifying text on glass sheets that simplified handling, to produce thousands of positive prints with the cyanotype process, thereby utilizing photography’s illustrative power to tackle a practical problem of greater scientific accuracy in botanical illustration. As the specimens were solid objects that light could not pass through, they appear as negative images, what we now call photograms. With the assistance of Anne Dixon (1799– 1864), Atkins created albums of cyanotype photogenic drawings of her botanical specimens. Although artistic expression was not her primary intent, which was centered more on the observation

century. In 1853 Herschel described methods to reduce images to microscopic size for easier storage and preservation and then enlarge them again when needed. Talbot and Herschel created and/or predicted much of what was to come in the history of photography.

anna atkins: birth of the photography-based book Anna Atkins’s (1799–1871) British Algae: Cyanotype Impressions, privately published and distributed, was the first book to be printed and fully illustrated by Herschel’s cyanotype.58 Released in

ANNA ATKINS and ANNE DIXON. Equisetum sylvaticum, 1853, 10 x 7 7⁄8 inches. Cyanotype. This photogenic drawing of a plant specimen shows the stems of the plant species in various stages of growth, from an almost-solid staff to a spidery, blossoming branch. It is a page from Cyanotypes of British and Foreign Ferns, an album of one hundred botanical illustrations with hand-written titles now in the Getty Museum. Anne Dixon was an intimate childhood friend of Anna Atkins, who was raised largely by Atkins’s father after her mother died. Atkins considered her an “almost sister.” Interested in botany, Dixon joined Atkins in collecting plant specimens, and the two spent the summer of 1852 together while Atkins was in mourning after her father’s death. Dixon also made cyanotypes of botanical specimens, and she presented an album of ferns to her nephew, Henry Dixon, who was also interested in botany. Many future makers followed her innovative cameraless photography techniques. COURTESY

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The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles, CA.

chapter one: advancing towards photography

and documentation of nature for the sake of scientific study, Atkins’s works show a strong aesthetic sense for translating three-dimensional forms into a two-dimensional space, emphasizing symmetry that linked art and science. Additionally, the Prussian blue color was appropriately poetic for her botanical subject matter, recalling a sense of the ocean. Her influence was limited to a tiny but influential audience, due to the book’s subject matter and the restricted means of production that entailed making original cyanotypes. In the introduction to her book, Atkins described her intent: “the difficulty of making accurate drawing of objects as minute as the Algae and Conferva, has induced me to avail myself to Sir John Herschel’s beautiful process of Cyanotype, to obtain impressions of the plants themselves, which I have much pleasure in offering to my botanical friends.”60

the establishment gate-keepers opened a discourse on photography’s relationship to death and neglect, the use of text to control meaning, and the medium’s ability to commingle fact and fiction. On the back of one print, the martyred Bayard, an early photographic casualty, returns from the dead with this message: The corpse you see is that of M. Bayard… The Academy, the King, and all those who have seen his pictures admired them, just as you do… This has brought him prestige, but not a sou [penny]. The government, which has supported M. Daguerre more than is necessary, declared it could do nothing for M. Bayard, and the unhappy man drowned himself… he has been at the morgue for several days, and no-one has recognized or claimed him. Ladies and Gentlemen, you’d better pass along for fear of offending your sense of smell, for as you can observe, the face and hands of the gentleman are beginning to decay.63

other distinct originators: photography is in the air

Word of these discoveries circulated, and the eagerness to photograph became apparent as people from across the Western world—Brazil, Germany, Spain, Switzerland—stepped forward with claims that they too had invented a photographic process.64 Creating a spin-off method based on Talbot’s process, Scotsman Mungo Ponton (1801–1880) sensitized paper with potassium bichromate (potassium dichromate) instead of silver salt to produce cameraless shadowgraphs. He made them by placing objects on top of the paper and exposing his set-up to sunlight. The image was processed by washing with water. The areas affected by light did not dissolve during washing, but the unexposed coating under the object did. Since all the unexposed bichromate was removed, the washing operation also served to fix the image. The final result was a white silhouette of the object on an orange background. The process showed that the solubility of potassium bichromate was proportional to the amount of light it received, and was cheaper and easier than Talbot’s method.

Niépce, Daguerre, and Talbot were not alone in their quest to make pictures directly by the action of light.61 In March 1839, Hippolyte Bayard (1801–1887), a French civil servant, independently obtained his first direct positives on paper in the camera. Being a direct positive, the image is reversed left to right and printed out, as opposed to being developed out. In May 1839, Bayard showed examples to Arago, unaware that Arago was already championing Daguerre’s cause. Arago pressured Bayard not to publish, thus guaranteeing that Daguerre’s process would receive all the acclaim. Bayard exhibited 30 pictures in Paris in June 1839 and was presented with a small cash award by the French government. However, by the time Bayard made the details of his process public, in February 1840, it was old news.62 Bayard expressed his disappointment with a mini-series of self-portraits and an accompanying “suicide” text. This protest against

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HIPPOLY TE BAYARD Self-Portrait as a Drowned Man, 1840. Direct paper positive. Bayard’s hands and face were sunburnt from working in his garden.

Ponton demonstrated his technique to the Society of Arts of Scotland on May 25, 1839, and correctly predicted that it would be an important aid to lithography. Although he never pursued the process, it was the basis for a number of non-silver processes and for most of the photomechanical reproduction methods of the nineteenth century. A case for simultaneous consciousness, that an idea can independently occur to different people, in different places, and at the same time, can be made for the experiments of Antoine Hércules Romuald

Florence (1804–1879), a French artist who resided in Brazil. His surviving notebooks, written between 1829 and 1837, record Florence’s early imagemaking with a camera obscura and silver nitrate in January 1833. He altered the conceptual direction of his experimentations from making images with a camera to concentrate on what would become a fundamental application of all such photo-chemical discoveries: using a master image to produce copies.65 According to Professor Boris Kossoy:

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Florence used master glass plates coated with a mixture of gum arabic and soot. He outlined his designs and texts with a burin, then copied them through sunlight exposure on paper sensitized with silver chloride or, preferably, gold chloride, thus obtaining printout images. In testing chemical preparations that would prevent his gold-chloride copies from being altered when again exposed to light, he first used a solution of urine (for the ammonia in its composition) and water. Later he used caustic ammonia (ammonium hydroxide) as a fixer for the copies prepared with silver chloride.66

Considering that knowledge of the chemical as well as the optical principles of photography was fairly widespread following Schulze’s experiment—which found its way not only into serious scientific treatises but also into popular books of amusing parlor tricks—the circumstance that photography was not invented sooner remains the greatest mystery in its history.67

Gernsheim pointedly observed that the essential empirical information of what became photography as well as the societal incentives and rewards were in circulation, which can explain why others were attempting to invent a viable silver-based photographic process. Basically, the formation of a process to address divergent picturemaking requirements was seemingly manifesting itself in many different places and new specimens are regularly confirmed.68 Today we can point to notions that photography worked the borders of reality and representation, society

A detailed examination of his manuscripts by the Conservation Laboratory at the Rochester Institute of Technology in 1976 confirmed that Florence used the word “photographie” to describe the product of his endeavors in 1833 and “photographer” in 1834, half a decade before Herschel recommended “photography” to Talbot in 1838. Although none of Florence’s camera images have survived, his contact prints of a diploma and labels for pharmaceutical bottles made before 1837 are in the possession of his descendants. However, as Helmut and Alison Gernsheim observed:

ANTOINE HÉRCULES ROMUALD FLORENCE. Illustrations of Florence’s photography equipment. 81⁄16 x 7½ inches. Pencil drawing from Florence’s manuscript L’Ami des arts livré à lui-même ou Récherches et décourvertes sur différents sujets nouveaux, São Carlos (Campinas) 1837, page 59. Kossoy explains that: “the left upper corner shows Florence’s diagram of his homemade camera obscura. The illustration in the upper right shows the adjustable wooden frame he used to make sunlight contact prints. The bottom figure shows a platform Florence used as a support for the plate (made of glass) where you can see the master drawing. In the middle of this frame (painted in black) and the glass plate (which functioned as the negative) Florence placed his sensitized paper.”69 COURTESY

Boris Kossoy and Antonio Florence, Instituto Hercule Florence,

São Paulo, Brazil.

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and nature, objectivity and subjectivity, permanence and transience, and speculate that early imagemakers were striving to show that these boundaries were false. But such contemporary thinking bypasses what photography is fundamentally about: empowering people with the technological means to make affordable and reproducible visual representations of their reality, a model capable of tracing a subject’s presence by means of light. Daguerre summed up the ambition best:

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I have found a way of fixing the images of the camera! I have seized the fleeting light and imprisoned it! I have forced the sun to paint pictures for me! 70

9 10

notes 1

2

3

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5

6

See Susan Sontag, “In Plato’s Cave,” Chapter 1 in On Photography, by S. Sontag (New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1977), 3–24. See also articles that reinforce this link by W. J. Mitchell, Ellen Handy, Sharon Sliwinski, and Alexander Sekatskiy, as well as a translation of Plato’s allegory, in Andrew E. Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory: An Historical Anthology (Boston, MA and Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell, 2014), 382–83, 344–49, 370–76, 436–39, and 12–16 respectively. See da Vinci’s “The Function of the Eye, As Explained by the Camera Obscura” (circa 1520), in Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 17–18. Martin Kemp,  The Science of Art: Optical Themes in Western Art from Brunelleschi to Seurat  (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1990), 9–15, 344–45. See excerpts of Alberti’s thoughts on linear perspective in  On Painting  (1540) reprinted in Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 24–28. Leon Battista Alberti, On Painting and on Sculpture, ed. and trans. Cecil Grayson (London: Phaidon Press, Ltd., 1972), 55. Much later in the nineteenth, twentieth, and twenty-first centuries numerous debates emerged about the parallel impact of photography’s multiplicity, and about whether photographs, photographic prints, and photographic/ photomechanical reproductions in books, magazines, and digitally online are indeed identical to one another. See, for example, readings by André Malraux from

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his Museum Without Walls (1947), and Johanna Drucker’s “Digital Ontologies: The Ideality of Form in/and Code Storage—or—Can Graphesis Challenge Mathesis?” (2001) in Hershberger, ed.,  Photographic Theory, 164–68 and 350–54 respectively. For a fictional, philosophical account linking the camera obscura from Mo Ti to the present, see David Knowles, The Secrets of the Camera Obscura (San Francisco, CA: Chronicle Books, 1994). See also da Vinci, “The Function of the Eye,” in Hershberger, ed.,  Photographic Theory, 17–18. Kenneth Clark,  Landscape into Art, new edition (NewYork: Harper & Row, 1986), 44. Kemp, The Science of Art, 53–60. Georges Potonniée, Histoire de la découverte de la photographie  (Paris, 1925), trans. Edward Epstean,  The History of the Discovery of Photography (New York: Arno Press, 1973), 11. (First English edition, New York: Tennant and Ward, 1936.) Perhaps following della Porta, one of photography’s inventors, William Henry Fox Talbot, early on described photography as a form of  “natural magic.” See Talbot, “Some Account of the Art of Photogenic Drawing” (1839), in Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 38–43, esp. p. 40; original emphasis. Emmanuelle Andreani, “Caravaggio Used Photographic Techniques,” March 10, 2009, see: http://phys.org/ news/2009–03-caravaggio-techniques.html Vermeer’s vision is the result of constructing images from things seen in the natural world and things seen in his mind: Vermeer transcended the camera. It is the act of seeing and thinking, rather than the limited focus on what is seen and how it is ordered, that enables such an artist to suggest an intricate inner world. Some of Vermeer’s later work, such as  A Girl Asleep  (1656), when reproduced in a small blackand-white format can at first be mistaken for a late nineteenth-century snapshot. For a detailed and fascinating analysis of how artists have used lenses and mirrors to create their work see: Philip Steadman,  Vermeer’s Camera: Uncovering the Truth Behind the Masterpieces (Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 2001) and David Hockney,  Secret Knowledge: Rediscovering the Lost Techniques of the Masters, New and Expanded Edition (London: Thames & Hudson, 2006). Also, see the film Tim’s Vermeer (2013). For more on photography’s controversial link to indexicality, see Charles Sanders Peirce’s “Logic as Semiotic: The Theory of Signs” (circa 1900), and Rosalind Krauss’s

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25 See Helmut and Alison Gernsheim, L. J. M. Daguerre,

“Notes on the Index: Seventies Art in America” (1977), in Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, pp. 100–4, and 246–50 respectively. Lithography is a method of printing based on the aversion of grease and water. A drawing is made with a crayon, pencil, or ink that contains grease and pigment and is chemically fixed to the top of a limestone or a smooth metal surface. This surface is wetted and rolled with oily ink, which adheres only to the greasy drawing; the rest of the surface, being damp, repels the ink. Prints are made in multiple copies, referred to as  editions, on paper in a press. See William H. Wollaston, “Description of the Camera Lucida” (1807), in Hershberger, ed.,  Photographic Theory, 19–21. Johann Heinrich Schulze, “Scotophorous [bringer of darkness] Discovered Instead of Phosphorous; or, A Noteworthy Experiment of the Action of the Sun’s Rays.” A translation can be found in R. B. Litchfield, Tom Wedgwood, the First Photographer (London: Duckworth & Co., 1903), 218–24. Helmut and Alison Gernsheim, The History of Photography (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1969), 32. Norman Tiphaigne de La Roche,  Giphantia  (London, 1761), printed for Robert Horsfield, original in French, 95–97. Reproduced in Georges Potonniée, The History of the Discovery of Photography, trans. Edward Epstean (New York: Tennant and Ward, 1936), 44. Humphry Davy, “An Account of a method of copying Painting upon Glass, and making profiles, by the agency of Light upon Nitrate of Silver. Invented by T. Wedgwood, Esq. with Observations by H. Davy,”  Journals of the Royal Institution, vol. 1 (1802), 170–74. Davy’s article was also republished in the influential Journal of Natural Philosophy, Chemistry, and the Arts  (a.k.a.  Nicholson’s Journal) in November 1802. R. D. Altick,  The Shows of London  (Cambridge, MA: Belknap Press, 1978), 120–21. In 1826 Thomas Drummond applied a flame burning a mixture of oxygen and hydrogen to small balls of lime to produce a powerful and steady source of illumination for coastal lighthouses. The entertainment business quickly adapted the Drummond Light, renaming it limelight, as a replacement for the Argand light. For a description of Barker’s development of the panorama, see the anonymous “Account of the late Mr. [Robert] Barker” (1806) in Hershberger, ed.,  Photographic Theory, 29–30.

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the History of the Diorama and of the Daguerreotype. Reprint. (New York: Dover Publications, 1968), 14–47. See also Daguerre’s “Description of the Process of Painting and Effects of Light Invented by Daguerre, and Applied by Him to the Pictures of the Diorama” (1839), in Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 31–34. See Sir David Brewster,  The Kaleidoscope: Its History, Theory, and Construction  (1819; reprinted London, 1858). Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Theory of Colours, trans. Charles Eastlake [1840] (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1970). Jonathan Crary,  Techniques of the Observer: On Vision and Modernity in the Nineteenth Century  (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1990), 98. Encyclopaedia Britannica, 8th edition, 1857, Edinburgh, Vol. XVI, p. 697. André Gunthert, email discussion with author, December 17, 1998. For details see Jessica S. McDonald, “A Sensational Story: Helmut Gernsheim and ‘the world’s first photograph’ ” in Tanya Sheehan and Andrés Mario Zervigón, eds., Photography and Its Origins (New York and London: Routledge, 2015), 15–28. The Nicéphore Niépce House Museum claims it was 1824 (www.photo-museum.org/photography-his-tory) while the Harry Ransom Center at the University of Texas at Austin that houses the work lists it as 1827, see: www.hrc.utexas.edu/niepce-heliograph. Isidore Niépce, History of the discovery improperly called daguerreotype (Paris: Astier, August 1841), 17. Most previous publications have indicated an exposure time of about eight hours. However, according to JeanLouis Marignier and Michel Ellenberger, “L’invention ret-rouvée de la photographie,” Pour la science, No. 232 (Feb. 1997), 42, Niépce never indicated the precise exposure time he used. The authors, using a similar type of lens and emulsion that Niépce used, found that their summer daylight exposure times varied between 40 to 60 hours. Letter from Joseph to Claude Niépce dated 16.7bre [September] 1824, in T. P. Kravits, ed.,  Dokumenty po istorii izobreteniya fotografii  (Moscow: Academy of Sciences of the USSR, 1949), 148–49  [Documents in the History of the Invention of Photography, The Correspondences of J. N. Niépce, L. J. M. Daguerre, and Others]. Note that Niépce apparently photographed this scene numerous times over

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many years, adding to the difficulty in dating the surviving example. An early outgrowth of Niépce’s research was the first photomechanical process, the héliogravure, an elementary version of photogravure. After the treated plate was exposed and developed it was placed in an acid bath. The acid etched out the unprotected areas, leaving an intaglio plate that could be inked and printed. The process worked when used to make traditional prints, but not with camera-made images that depended on midtone values to be effective. Later Niépce’s nephew, Claude Abel Niépce de Saint-Victor, refined the process to include a broader range of midtones. Daguerre learned of Niépce’s work from Charles Chevalier, son of the Paris optician, from whom both bought equipment. In 1828, Niépce’s co-experimenter brother Claude died in London while trying to raise funds for the picturemaking system. The loss of his brother and his need for money made Niépce amenable to a partnership. For all their contracts see Helmut and Alison Gernsheim, L.J.M. Daguerre: The History of the Diorama and the Daguerreotype, 2nd revised edition (New York: Dover Publications, 1968), 186–92. See Hugh W. Salzberg,  From Caveman to Chemist: Circumstances and Achievements  (Washington, D.C.: American Chemical Society, 1991), 38, 44–45. François Jean Dominique Arago (1786–1853) was a recognized mathematician, astronomer, and physicist, who served as an astronomer and one-time director of the Paris Observatory, and as secretary of France’s Académie des sciences. Also an astute politician, he was a member of the Chamber of Deputies when he took up Daguerre’s cause and later led important government ministries. See Arago’s July 1839 “Report [on the Daguerreotype to the Chamber of Deputies]” in Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 48–53. Daguerre, as quoted in Helmut and Alison Gernsheim, L. J. M. Daguerre (New York: Dover, 1968), 81. Interestingly, photography’s English inventor, William Henry Fox Talbot, chose very similar language. See Talbot’s March 1839 “Some Account of the Art of Photogenic Drawing” (which he once subtitled “or the Process by Which Natural Objects May Be Made to Delineate Themselves without the Aid of the Artist’s Pencil”) in Hershberger, ed.,  Photographic Theory, 38–43. For a detailed account of the events of 1839 see Gernsheim, LJ.M. Daguerre, 79–97. See Robin Kelsey,  Photography and the Art of

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Chance  (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2015). For a detailed description of the era in which the daguerreotype was introduced see Rachel Stuhlman, “Luxury, Novelty, Fidelity: Madame Foas Daguerreian Tale,” Image, vol. 40, nos. 1–4 (1997). For an examination of Daguerre’s artistic output see Stephen C. Pinson, Speculating Daguerre: Art & Enterprise in the Work of L. J. M. Daguerre (Chicago, IL and London: The University of Chicago Press, 2012). According to photographic historian and former Curator of Photography at the Fox Talbot Museum, Michael Gray, “This is the critical point when he discovered that the sensitivity of silver chloride is greater than that of silver nitrate. By first immersing a sheet of paper in sodium chloride and, after drying, washing over with silver nitrate by the process of double decomposition light sensitive silver chloride is formed within the fibres of the paper. This can be confirmed by Talbot in Notebook ‘L’ Scientific Series dated January 8th 1834 British Library, Department of Mss: Fox Talbot Collection (unindexed), which contains passages relating to his mathematical, physical, chemical and photographic studies. Although dated January 8th 1834 it includes entries prior to this date (experiment with the salts of silver, dated October 6, 1833). However, there are sufficient entries of this type to indicate that this often was his working method, that was, to make rough notes, often on any sheet of paper at hand and then to transfer to his current work book.” Email correspondence with author, April 27, 2015 and May 1, 2015. H. Fox Talbot, The Pencil of Nature (London: Longman, Brown, Green & Longmans, 1844). Facsimiles, New York: Da Capo Press, 1969; and New York: H. P. Kraus, 1989. Unp. An early microscope fitted into a wall so as to collect sunlight and project it through a specimen into a darkened room where the enlarged image was viewed on a screen. Salted paper prints became the mainstay of silver printing-out papers until they were superseded in the 1850s by albumen paper. Salted paper prints produce a reddish-brown image tonality. They are stable to light when properly processed, but the unprotected silver image is extremely susceptible to airborne pollutants, which cause yellow fading. See H. J. P. Arnold, William Henry Fox Talbot: Pioneer of Photography and Man of Science  (London: Hutchinson Benham, Ltd., 1977), 119–20. Due to the bias in research, we cannot exclude the work of women before her.

chapter one: advancing towards photography

52 William Henry Fox Talbot,  Some Account of the Art of

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Photogenic Drawing (London, 1839). Reprinted in Beaumont Newhall, Photography: Essays & Images (New York: The Museum of Modern Art, 1980), 28. Talbot’s text is also reprinted in Hershberger, ed.,  Photographic Theory, 38–43. Ibid. Talbot made iodized paper by brushing potassium iodide and silver nitrate (the same active ingredient as in the daguerreotype) onto high-quality writing paper. Prior to camera exposure, the paper was brushed with “gallonitrate of silver” (a solution of silver nitrate, acetic, and gallic acid usually referred to as gallic acid) and put into the camera while still moist. This cut exposure times from minutes to 10 to 60 seconds in direct sunlight. The first printed use of the word can be found in an article on Talbot’s invention by the German astronomer Johann H. von Madler in the Vossische Zeitung of February 1839. Herschel used it in print in a paper to the Royal Society on March 14, 1839. Waxing increased the apparent resolution, as the wax made the negative more translucent and diminished the visibility of the paper’s fibrous structure. The process was popular with European amateurs for architectural and landscape work until it was supplanted by the distinctly different  waxed paper process  and the wet collodion process in the 1850s. In 1816 Henri August Vogel discovered that plant juices are sensitive to light. A number of people researched the subject including Gustav Fritsch (1832–1927) and Mary Somerville (1780–1872), who being a woman was not able to publish her finding. For more see: Hanin Hannouch, “Gustav Fritsch around 1900: Anthropology and Three-Colour Photography in Imperial Germany” (PhotoResearcher, No. 37, 2022, 56‒73) and Malin Fabbri, Anthotype Emulsions, Volume 1 (Stockholm: AlternativePhotography.com, 2022). In October 1843, Atkins began publishing British Algae: Cyanotype Impressions. The illustrations were photogenic drawings produced by the cyanotype process. The text and captions were photographic copies of Atkins’s handwriting. In 1850, she began to issue massive volumes, completing the publication of three volumes in 1853, which were designed to have 14 pages of text and 389 plates. Larry J. Schaaf,  Sun Gardens: Victorian Photographs by Anna Atkins (New York: Aperture, 1985). A. A. [Anna Atkins], British Algae: Cyanotype Impressions.

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3 volumes. Halstead Place, Sevenoaks: privately published, 1843–53. As cited in Schaaf, Sun Gardens. For essays on photography’s worldwide origins see: Tanya Sheehan and Andrés Mario Zervigón, editors, Photography and Its Origins  (New York and London: Routledge, 2015). Bayard treated paper with silver chloride and exposed it to light until it turned dark. Then he bathed the paper in potassium iodide and exposed it in his camera. The light bleached the paper in direct proportion to its intensity, forming a unique direct positive picture and solving the problem that had confounded Niépce and Daguerre. Bayard also used Herschel’s hypo to fix his images. Collection of the Société Française de photographie; reproduced in Lo Duca,  Bayard  (Paris: Prisma, 1943), 22–23. For a list of those who came forward after Daguerre’s announcement claiming to be the inventor of photography see Geoffrey Batchen,  Burning with Desire: The Conception of Photography (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1997), 35 and 50. This is an example of the concept of “multiple beginnings,” when there is a convergence of ideas. An in-depth analysis of Florence’s work can be found in Boris Kossoy, The Pioneering Photographic Work of Hercule Florence (New York/London, Routledge), 2017. Boris Kossoy, “Photography in Nineteenth-Century Latin America: The European Experience and The Exotic Experience” in Wendy Waitriss and Lois Parkinson Zamora, eds., Image and Memory: Photography from Latin America 1866–1994  (Austin, TX: University of Texas Press in association with FotoFest, Inc., 1998), 23. Complete references to Kossoy’s writing on Florence can also be found in this text. Also, numerous emails between Kossoy and the author during April and May 2015. Helmut and Alison Gernsheim, The History of Photography (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1969), 13. See Larry J. Schaaf, “Tempestuous teacups and enigmatic leaves” http://foxtalbot.bodleian.ox.ac.uk/blog/ June 19, 2015, which adds Sarah Anne Bright to the list of early woman photographers. Boris Kossoy in email correspondence with the author, May 25, 1999. Daguerre to Charles Chevalier at his Paris optical shop, circa 1839, quoted in Helmut and Alison Gernsheim, L. J. M. Daguerre: The History of the Diorama and the Daguerreotype, second revised edition (New York: Dover Publications, 1968), 49.

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CHAPTER TWO

The Daguerreotype: Image and Object

WHEN DAGUERREOTYPES REIGNED Daguerreotypes reigned from 1839 through the 1850s. In this first period of photography, millions of daguerreotypes were made of almost any subject on which light would shine, from street corner scenes to the Acropolis. All the major cities and tourist destinations were daguerreotyped, but the new process had its most revolutionary impact in portraiture. Before the nineteenth century, only the wealthy had the means to act on the desire to commemorate their likenesses. Industrial-age products, like the physionotrace and the camera lucida, had begun to expand the picturemaking process, but the daguerreotype was the great equalizer, providing ordinary people with access to pictures of themselves and their loved ones. Whether a commissioned portrait or a genre picture, before the daguerreotype it was unusual for servants and tradespeople—say, laundresses— to have been individually commemorated. For the first time, everyday people could now make their own visual history, collecting images that said: “This is mine—my family, my house, my dog, my trip to Niagara Falls.” Commercial, industrial, and scientific applications rapidly followed. By the 1850s, a new information age was underway

UNKNOWN PHOTOGRAPHER. Mississauga (Ojibwa) Chief Maungwudaus (Chief of the Ojebway Tribe), circa 1845. 3¼ × 4¼ inches. Daguerreotype with applied color. COURTESY

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seizing the light

Daguerre’s process Morse, who grasped how artists could use the process to make “facsimile sketches of nature” that “cannot be called copies of nature, but portions of nature herself,”2 wrote to his brother that daguerreotypes:

as millions of daguerreotype portraits and “views,” as outdoor scenes were called, began circulating all over the world.

WHAT IS A DAGUERREOTYPE?

resemble aquatint engraving; for they are in simple chiarooscuro [sic], and not in colors, but the exquisite minuteness of the delineation cannot be conceived. No painting or engraving ever approached it … The impressions of interior views are Rembrandt perfected.3

In the winter of 1838–1839, American painter and inventor Samuel F. B. Morse (1791–1872) was in Paris to demonstrate his electric telegraph and he arranged a meeting with Daguerre.1 After seeing

Details of the daguerreotype process spread swiftly after François Arago’s public announcement, but its long exposure times meant that initially, its finest subjects were immobile.4 Daguerreotyping was not a spontaneous act. As in a portrait painting, a daguerreotype was planned and made rather than casually taken.5 Early daguerreotypes recorded premeditated poses constructed over exposure times that initially ran for minutes. This built-in sense of time was evident in the daguerreotype and encouraged viewers to linger, to study, and to think about the image. The daguerreotype is a physical container of information, having the properties of both a two-dimensional image and a three-dimensional object. The daguerreotype does not look or feel like a contemporary paper photograph, nor is it made like one. Its image rests on the highly polished, silvered surface of a copper plate whose mirror-like brilliance provides unparalleled visual depth but also makes viewing the picture problematic. The image tones of a daguerreotype are dynamic. They change with the viewing angle and therefore must be viewed from a specific angle or its image will appear as a negative, that is, tonally reversed.6 Above all, the daguerreotype process produced a singular, unique image, unable to be printed multiple times. The daguerreotype’s greatest technical advantage is its ability to render incredible detail. Its shimmering surface is a physically luxurious one that can beautify an

UNKNOWN PHOTOGRAPHER. Portrait of a Laundress, 1848–1850. 5 5⁄16 x 3 5⁄16 inches. Daguerreotype with applied color. Photography democratized portraiture by making it economically feasible for ordinary working people to have their likeness memorialized. Here a laundress, appearing out of an ethereal setting and staring directly into the camera, grips a bar of soap as she readies the cloth for washing. COURTESY  The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles, CA.

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ordinary subject by anointing it with a sense of visual splendor. At its best, the image can seem to rise from the surface, giving a sense of a subject’s three-dimensionality. The daguerreotype’s subtle perfection and ephemeral personality, its sparkling, gemlike quality, lend it a sense of magical realism, which does not translate onto the printed page. When viewing, a daguerreotype’s mirrored surface often includes the viewer in the image. One can adjust the viewing distance so that the viewer’s face and the face of the portrait’s sitter synchronize. As the eyes of viewer and subject overlap, one can experience a sense of traveling backward and forward in time and space. The daguerreotype’s delicate surface is normally protected in a small, closed case, making the viewing experience intimate and private. Designed to be handheld as opposed to being displayed on a wall, a daguerreotype can create a beguiling sense of tension as it flickers between the positive and the negative surface image. It can simultaneously convey two views of a person, providing an extra dimension into the character of the sitter. The daguerreotype immediately revealed the potential for photographic processes to replace handmade procedures carried out by skilled artisans. Within days of its public announcement, Le Lithographe printed a lithograph of the Cathedral of Notre Dame in Paris drawn from a daguerreotype view, forging a new alliance between photography and printmaking. Western audiences were especially eager for views of historical European sites, and an immediate market developed for cultural icons. Daguerreotype views of famous places in Europe, the Middle East, and America were traced and transferred onto copper plates by the aquatint process7 and published in Paris between 1841 and 1843 as Excursions Daguerriennes: Vues et Monuments les plus remarquables du globe. Within a few years, most major natural formations, such as Niagara Falls, and man-made monuments, including the Kremlin, had been daguerreotyped. “Daguerreotypomania” had taken hold.

Construction of a daguerreotype: hinged, velvet-lined case, plate, frame, matte, and glass. COURTESY

George Eastman Museum, Rochester, NY.

THE DAGUERREOTYPE COMES TO AMERICA On September 20, 1839, Daguerre’s instruction manual for his process (including how he created Diorama paintings) arrived in New York, and within days David William Seager8 was exhibiting daguerreotypes (now lost) at the establishment of Dr. James R. Chilton, a chemist and scientific supplier located on Broadway. A week after the manual’s arrival, Samuel F. B. Morse exhibited his own view of the city’s Unitarian Church (also lost). Within two weeks the first American portraits, with the sitter’s eyes shut to diminish movement caused by blinking during the long exposures, had been made. John W. Draper (1811–1882), a chemistry professor at what is now New York University, dusted his sister’s face with white flour (to increase light reflectance and reduce the exposure time), made her daguerreotype, and sent it to Sir John Herschel in England. Draper wrote: “I believe I was the first

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THÉODORE MAURISSET. La Daguerreotypomanie (Daguerreotypomania). December 1839. 10¼ x 14 1⁄16 inches. Lithograph with hand applied color. Maurisset’s (active 1834–1859) lithograph humorously imagined enormous crowds of people waiting in an endless line to have their portrait taken. It makes light of the hubbub caused by Daguerre’s invention and reports on those who intended to profit by selling equipment and supplies and giving lessons in how to make a daguerreotype. COURTESY

The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles, CA.

THE EARLY PRACTITIONERS

person here [in America] who succeeded in obtaining portraits from the life.”9 Despite its difficulties, other daguerreotypists quickly followed, furthering the process of democratizing visual representation by challenging the conventions of who did the depicting, who and/or what was depicted, and what the depiction revealed about the subject. All these factors established a new basis for portraiture.

The earliest American daguerreans10 were amateurs, generally white men of some means and education who possessed a measure of scientific, technical, or artistic training. This was not without reason: the process was an expensive and technically difficult one. Few stayed at it for long. After exposing some plates to local buildings or scenes (exposure times

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were still too long for natural portraiture), most of these early adopters then set their new gadgets aside. Rapid advances in photographic chemistry soon reduced exposure times from minutes to seconds, a development that made portraits possible though still not easy to accomplish. The next group of daguerreotypists, who came along within months of the invention’s introduction, were aspiring professional portraitists. Most were men without formal arts training and many were refugees from other lines of work. Again, few would remain in the field for long. It took yet a third wave of practitioners, following further improvements in chemistry, as well as lenses and the economy, before a true class of professional daguerreans would emerge as a stable social and cultural unit. The late 1830s saw America’s first modern economic depression. Ironically, the daguerreotype, on the verge of destabilizing the business of picturemaking, offered some unemployed and entrepreneurs an opportunity to live the American Dream of the second chance. This ideology coincided with the European “New World” myth that saw America as a land of Eden where one could be restored through will power and hard work.11 The newness of the daguerreotype appealed to the youthful country’s frontier mentality and its infatuation with machines that made tasks easier to perform. Most daguerreotypists were largely self-taught, and honed their basic skills through apprenticeships or the taking of a few lessons. Nathaniel Hawthorne’s daguerreotypist in The House of the Seven Gables (1851) sets the tone for how people viewed the profession. By the age of twenty-two Holgrave, the hero of the novel, had been a schoolmaster, a salesman, a political editor, a peddler of Cologne water, a dentist, a supernumerary official aboard a packet-ship, a public lecturer on Mesmerism,12 and a daguerreotypist. These itinerant daguerreotypists, mostly oblivious to the academic rules of painting, introduced new visual modes into the realm of portraiture.

UNKNOWN PHOTOGRAPHER. Portrait of a Nurse and a Child, circa 1850. 2 7⁄16 x 1 7⁄8 inches. Daguerreotype with hand applied color. This African American caretaker’s hand firmly controls the disconcerted child, which was necessary when exposure times were too long for a child to sit still. Before African Americans were able to take control of their own photographic representations, such images acted as romanticized symbols of bondage in post–Civil War America. COURTESY

The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles, CA.

Daguerreotypists were free to decide what was pictorially important and how to record it, making up their own hierarchy. They brought a fresh, uncomplicated sense of ordering and the freedom to document the vernacular, emphasizing the surface appearance of everyday subject matter. The lack of European formality in America allowed graphic space to be arranged in a more informal, intuitive, and naturalistic manner. This sense of playfulness foreshadows the arrival of the snapshot and can

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also be seen in other works such as Leaves of Grass (1855), in which Walt Whitman’s free verse celebrations of individual freedom and dignity, democracy, and brotherhood are part of the same spirit that was captured in many daguerreotypes. Perhaps not surprisingly, Whitman, whose attitude made him a great admirer of the daguerreotype, was a friend of Gabriel Harrison (1818–1902), a celebrated Brooklyn daguerrean, local aesthete, and theater personality.

it impossible for people to remain still enough to get a sharp likeness. Wolcott did not use a lens on his camera, but rather a concave mirror like one on a reflection telescope. The camera did not have a shutter; the exposure was made by letting light into the camera for a measured period of time, tracked by a pocket watch, which varied according to the intensity of the light. Since daguerreotypists prepared their own plates, exposure time was based on the operator’s previous experience. One sitter recalled the tribulation: [He sat] for eight minutes, with strong sunlight shining on his face and tears trickling down his cheeks while … the operator promenaded the room with watch in hand, calling out the time every five seconds, till the fountains of his eyes were dry.14

EARLY DAGUERREAN PORTRAIT MAKING Alexander S. Wolcott (1804–1844) and John Johnson (1813–1871) opened in New York what The Sun on March 4, 1840 exclaimed was “the first daguerreotype gallery for portraits,” which started before the daguerreotype system had fully evolved. People having these early daguerreotype portraits made at this unconventional studio were in for a few surprises. A sitter was arranged in a posing chair with his or her head held stationary by an iron clamp on the back of the chair.13 Two large mirrors, hanging over the street from the third floor, directed light into the studio. Sunlight bounced from the lower mirror onto the upper mirror and was then reflected through a rack of glass bottles, filled with a blue solution of copper sulphate to filter the bright sunlight, allowing the sitter to endure the long exposures. Although the photographic emulsion used to make daguerreotypes was orthochromatic, mainly sensitive to blue light and ultra violet radiation, the blue filters made it easier for the subject to endure the full sun in their faces with their eyes open, but did not noticeably reduce the exposure time. Initially, portraits were usually undertaken only on sunny days, when exposures could be made in about one minute. On cloudy days exposures could last eight minutes or longer, making

Some people, including the French novelist Honoré de Balzac, considered the daguerrean portrait perilous for metaphysical reasons. As recalled by the photographer Nadar, Balzac believed that human bodies were composed of “specters, in infinitely superimposed layers” and “every daguerreian operation would catch, detach, and retain, by fixing onto itself, one layer of the photographed body.” Each exposure meant the irreplaceable loss of one’s “essence.”15 In the medium’s earliest days, most people had more concrete reasons to dread sitting for their daguerreotype. Since lengthy exposures could make the daguerrean portrait an ordeal, operators, as daguerreotypists were called, were judged for their ability to be quick and painless. The practice of painting faces white and dusting hair with white powder did not make the occasion any more pleasant or the result particularly natural. It is not surprising that today’s viewers of daguerrean portraits comment on how unnatural or serious people appear. In order to keep his sitter quiet, one story tells of an operator who:

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had tried all sorts of suasions, when it occurred to him that the strongest of all human motives is fear. As soon as he had completed his adjustments, he suddenly draws a revolver, and leveling it at the sitter’s head, he explains in a voice and with a look suggestive of lead and gunpowder: “Dare to move a muscle and I’ll blow your brains out.”16

Another operator printed business cards proclaiming: “Photography in all styles without pain.” He proposed to use gas on his sitters; once they were rendered unconscious, he would make the exposure.17 A third, half-jokingly, suggested opium: “A good dose [of laudanum] will effectively prevent the sitters from being conscious of themselves, or the camera, or anything else. They become most delightfully tractable, and you can do anything with them under such circumstances.” There was only one downside: “the procedure entails a certain loss of animation.”18 The emphasis, clearly, was on getting a physical “likeness” as opposed to probing a sitter’s inner state of being, which required a degree of compliance on behalf of paying customers and could not be relied upon. As a result, family members of photographers were regularly depicted as they could be counted on for compliance as a way to deal with the built-in power asymmetry between the photographer and their sitter. Poses were typically three-quarter-length against a neutral background with the sitter gazing straight toward the camera. What the camera saw is what was delivered. People accustomed to hand-drawn portraits that flattered the sitters were startled by the camera’s direct representation. Along with the absence of color, this led to hand-coloring becoming an accepted practice. This notifies us that since photography’s inception, the intervention of the hand has been actively at play and reminds us that all photobased images are interpreted constructions. Long exposures necessitated stationary poses that produced experiences like the one that Ralph

ROBERT CORNELIUS (1809–1893). Self-Portrait, October/November 1839. 3¼ × 4¼ inches. Daguerreotype. Just months after Daguerre announced his invention, Robert Cornelius, working out of doors to take advantage of the light, made what is thought to be the earliest surviving American self-portrait using a box fitted with a lens from an opera glass. Cornelius, who was trained as a metallurgist, opened one of Philadelphia’s first daguerreotype studios in May 1840. His metalworking knowledge led Cornelius and his silent partner, Dr. Paul Beck Goddard, to discover that bromine could act as an accelerator to shorten the exposure time of the daguerreotype plate. The reduced exposure times of ten to sixty seconds opened the path for commercial daguerreotype portrait studios. On the back of the plate Cornelius wrote “The first light picture ever taken,” proving the process was suitable for making portraits. COURTESY

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TECHNICAL IMPROVEMENTS

Waldo Emerson, the poetic source of the American will to know the self, related:

In 1840 Richard Beard (1801–1885) bought the patent rights to the daguerreotype process in England and hired John Frederick Goddard to increase the plate’s light sensitivity, which would reduce exposure times and make portraiture more practical. Goddard refumed the iodized surface of the plate with bromide, and his accelerator, known as “quick stuff,” could increase the speed five to ten times, reducing a 10-minute exposure to 1 minute.20 Antoine François Jean Claudet (1798–1867), a competitor of Beard, also invented a chlorine and iodine vapor accelerator in 1841 for the same purpose.21 At the same time, Armand Hippolyte Louis Fizeau (1819–1896) invented a technique called gilding22 to improve the plate’s contrast and make it less susceptible to abrasion and oxidation, thus increasing its life expectancy. These improvements enabled Beard to open the first high-quality daguerreotype portrait studio in London, and probably in Europe, in March 1841. The need for improvements was related by photographer Thomas Sutton’s pre-accelerator experience at Claudet’s studio, which opened shortly after Beard’s:

In your zeal not to blur the image, did you keep every finger in its place with such energy that your hands became clenched as for fight or despair, and in your resolution to keep your face still, did you feel every muscle becoming every moment more rigid; the brows contracted into a Tartarean frown, and the eyes fixed in a fit, in madness, or in death? And when, at last you were relieved of your duties, did you find the curtain drawn perfectly, and the hands true, clenched for combat, and the shape of the face or head?—but, unhappily, the total expression escaped from the face and the portrait of a mask instead of a man? Could you not by grasping it very tight hold the stream of a river, or of a small brook, and prevent it from flowing?19

JEREMIAH GURNEY. Two Girls Smiling, circa 1852–1858. 4¼ x 3¼ inches. Daguerreotype with applied color. Technical improvements that reduced exposure times allowed Jeremiah Gurney (1812‒1895), who had been instructed by Samuel Morse, to make this double portrait of girls in matching gingham dresses, refuting the belief that no one ever smiled when posing for their daguerreotype. Although exposure times were not often documented, some daguerreotypists claimed they could make “instantaneous” exposures. The outstanding portraits made in his studio of Gotham’s cultural elite were displayed in his Daguerreian Gallery “reception saloons” as “Distinguished Persons of the Age.” COURTESY

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the bias that is at the heart of archival record keeping in the nineteenth century that omits women or records their names in such generic manner that they can no longer be located in other archives, making further research difficult. This bias often imbues contemporary scholarship that still examines the familiar male figures of photographic history rather than those who were historically marginalized. Thirty-seven of New York’s estimated eighty-six daguerrean studios were located on a single stretch of Broadway. People strolling down Broadway would have seen studio banners and display cases tempting them to walk up the stairs (toward the blue skylights) to have their portrait made. Many of the galleries followed the lead of Edward Anthony’s National Daguerreotype Miniature Gallery and displayed celebrity portraits to give people the opportunity to see popular figures—and to encourage them to buy a duplicate portrait or have one made of themselves. The implication was that one could have one’s portrait made at the same studio that catered to the luminaries. In reality, most of these portraits had been appropriated from other galleries, copied (re-daguerreotyped), and displayed without crediting the original maker. At the time, a skilled laborer earned about $1.50 per day, a common laborer $1.00 a day or less.25 To meet the needs of working people, picture factories, with wooden benches and bare walls instead of overstuffed stairs and chandeliers, made portraits for 50 cents or less. Picture factories were criticized for their sloppy work practices, but the real fear was that their price-cutting methods would take business away from the ornate galleries. The standards of the 50-cent galleries were often not up to par. The most frequent complaint, “blue bosom,” resulted when white articles of clothing appeared with a Prussian blue cast. This was due to haphazard working methods that induced the Sabattier effect (a.k.a. solarization), causing a reversal effect that rendered the white highlight areas as blue. In the picture factories the goal was not fantasy, but resemblance. These “50-cent men” were

[Claudet] informed me, with the utmost gravity, that to achieve anything like success or eminence in it (daguerreotyping) required the chemical knowledge of Faraday, the optical knowledge of Herschel, the artistic talent of a Reynolds or a Rembrandt, and the indomitable pluck and energy of a Hannibal; and under these circumstances he strongly dissuaded anyone from taking it up as an amusement.23

In the United States, where Americans embraced the daguerreotype as if it were their own invention, a series of technical improvements, known as the American Process, took American daguerreotypes to the highest level of excellence.24 The American Process included plates re-silvered by electrotyping and polished with power-driven buffers. Cheaper and more compact cameras, with the first accordion-like bellows, were used, and materials were standardized through mass-produced equipment. Daguerreotype plates were first commercially produced by silversmiths in various sizes that became internationally standardized. Late in the daguerrean era, a finished plate was often housed in what was called a Union Case, marking the first industrial use of thermoplastic in 1853.

U. S. PORTRAIT STUDIOS AS PICTURE FACTORIES Yankee mechanical ingenuity propelled the expansion of American portrait studios starting in large urban areas that had the intellectual and scientific infrastructure to support this new technology. In 1853, it was estimated that 1,000 New Yorkers, including women and children, were working in the photographic trade. There were only a few women operators, but many more were engaged behind the scenes, especially in hand-coloring plates. The fact that these women are not considered canonical “must-know” photographers speaks volumes about

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UNKNOWN FRENCH PHOTOGRAPHER. Two Women Embracing, circa 1848. 4¼ x 5 11⁄16 inches. Daguerreotype with applied color. In the mid-nineteenth century Paris was known for supplying a booming and diverse international market for erotic imagery. Here the photographer has awkwardly positioned both women’s bodies for the observer’s pleasure, leaving little to the imagination. COURTESY

The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles, CA.

considered unprofessional and were roundly attacked by reputable studio operators in the trade press:

In fact, the frankness and voyeuristic quality of the image, enabled by the desiring gaze of the (often) man behind the camera allowed it to take over the underground market of erotic art. Among the Broadway operators, rumors circulated about unscrupulous individuals making illegal pornographic daguerreotypes after hours and on

Their rooms are frequently the resort of the low and depraved, and they delight in nothing more than desecrating the Sabbath by daguerreotyping these characters in the most obscene positions.26

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Sundays. The realism of the daguerreotype added to the licentiousness of such imagery. Their illegal nature and no doubt premium price kept the audience for these secretive pictures limited.27 Picture factories prospered due to management practices that promoted aggressive advertising, used smaller-sized plates to cut expenses, relied on a division of labor to speed up the operation, and encouraged a relaxed attitude toward aesthetic and technical standards. Long before Henry Ford, Broadway’s Reese & Company used an assembly-line approach, with each employee performing a specialized task. A customer purchased tickets for the desired number of sittings and an operator made a corresponding number of plates, following established posing formulas. The plates had been prepared by a polisher and a coater, and then brought to the operator for the posing. Next, the exposed plates were passed to a “mercurializer” who developed them through fuming with mercury. A gilder toned them, and, for an extra fee, an artist would hand-tint them. After being set into individual casings, the plates were delivered in as little as 15 minutes. Generally, the camera operator never saw the finished pictures. Sitters kept the ones they wanted and disposed of the rest; no refunds or reshoots were given. Abraham Bogardus (1822–1908), who ran a successful photographic studio on Broadway in New York and in 1869 was elected the first president of the National Photographic Association, recalled a customer who protested that, “My picture looks like the Devil,” to which the Broadway portraitist responded, “I had never seen that personage and could not say as to the resemblance, but sometimes a likeness ran all through families.”28 Since most Americans in the mid-1800s lived in rural areas, resourceful daguerreotypists from metropolitan areas realized they could make money by bringing portraits to smaller communities that lacked studios by traveling in specially made horsedrawn wagons, called “Daguerreotype Saloons.”

Following the practice of earlier itinerant portrait painters, the typical traveling daguerreotypist would come to town, rent a few rooms, pass out handbills or place an ad in the local paper, and wait for customers. If the pictures proved satisfactory, wordof-mouth kept business lively, and when demand dropped off, the daguerreotypist moved on. Rural families, like their urban counterparts, dressed up to present an idealized image that reinforced societal notions about who made up a “normal” family and how they should look.

SAMUEL J. MILLER (1822–1888). Frederick Douglass, circa 1847–1852. 5½ × 41⁄8 inches. Daguerreotype. Douglass, a former slave and leading abolitionist, frequently had his portrait made, thought photography to be the most democratic of the arts and considered it to be an important tool in the drive to end slavery in the United States.29

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In 1841, John Plumbe, Jr. (1809–1857) established the United States Photographic Institute in Boston as a commercial enterprise, taking portraits, selling apparatus and materials, and providing instruction. By 1843 Plumbe advertised his ability to make a “color” portrait by electroplating portions of the finished plate, fueling a demand for colored images. The first colored daguerreotypes were hand-painted after processing. For an extra fee, the operator made notes about the color of the sitter’s

clothes. Color was hand-applied, based on these notations, directly onto the finished plate. Plumbe’s national studio network advanced the concept, started by galleries in New York, of collecting celebrity portraits. He had the unique images copied and published as lithographs in The National Plumbeotype Gallery. Craig’s Daguerreian Registry claims that Plumbe had 25 galleries in 1845 from New York to Dubuque, Iowa, and they eventually offered daguerreotypes for as little as one dollar, all stamped “Plumbe.” The actual daguerreotypist was not credited, establishing a precedent that other chain studios followed. This practice makes it difficult to attribute most daguerreotypes to an individual operator. Most large studio owners managed and promoted their business and rarely worked as actual operators, yet all the work carried the studio owner’s credit-line. The operator was generally considered a skilled production worker who performed a repetitive, machine-like task. The poses were standardized into ritual formulas, a convention still seen in countless yearbooks and in the display cases of chain studios from the former Olan Mills picture factories to Walmart Portrait Studios. In 1843, Albert Sands Southworth (1811– 1894) took Josiah Johnson Hawes (1808–1901) as a partner in his Boston daguerreotype studio. Both men were among the earliest of professional American daguerreans. Coincidentally, they were first introduced to the process in the early spring of 1840 when they independently attended a daguerreotype lecture and demonstration by François Gouraud (circa 1808–1847),30 a Frenchman who was the American agent for Giroux et cie, Daguerre’s authorized camera manufacturer. Some five years after joining with Southworth, Hawes married his partner’s sister, Nancy, who had been working at the gallery coloring plates. Later, another Southworth brother, Asa, also worked there as an operator. This family unit produced exceptional work and became a model

JOHN PLUMBE, JR. Portrait of a Man Reading a Newspaper, circa 1842. 3½ × 2¾ inches. Daguerreotype. By the time he established the National Plumbeotype Gallery of engraved and lithographic reproductions of his own images in 1846, Plumbe had been dubbed “the American Daguerre” by the press. However, in 1847 Plumbe found himself in financial trouble and he sold his business to his employees. Two years later he gave up photography and retired to Dubuque, Iowa, where he committed suicide by cutting his own throat. COURTESY

The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles, CA.

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SOUTHWORTH & HAWES. Portrait of a Young Girl, circa 1852. Daguerreotype. Known for the superb quality of their work, Southworth & Hawes’s graceful posing and perceptive use of light generated an otherworldly glow around this young girl’s cherubic features. COURTESY

The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles, CA.

daguerrean portrait studio. Although individuals at Southworth & Hawes had specific tasks to perform, the collaborative nature of the portrait studio makes it difficult to determine who was responsible for many aesthetic and technical improvements. A side effect of this method of working was to rupture the concept of a single author who directed, supervised, and took credit for the work produced in a studio setting. Under a skylight studio referred to as the “operating room,”

the Southworth & Hawes group created bold and direct portraits of Boston’s cultural elite. Ignoring stereotypical poses, they demonstrated how a daguerrean portrait could be more than a detailed physiognomic map, and could speak in its own physically rich and often sensual language. Southworth commented: It is required of and should be the aim of the artist photographer to produce in the likeness the best possible

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after he was convicted and sentenced for attempting to assist seven escaped slaves to freedom by sailing them from Florida to the West Indies in 1844. Mathew B. Brady (circa 1823–1896) helped pioneer the celebrity portrait. Already a daguerreotype casemaker, he opened his first Daguerrean Miniature Gallery in New York in 1844 and became an expert at utilizing daguerreotypes in public relations. Brady sent his daguerrean celebrity portraits and interior views of his fashionable gallery to the new picture papers, where they were converted into wood-engraved illustrations for publication. This free publicity not only promoted his portrait business but also signaled the role daguerreotypes would play in the budding mass communications arena by increasing the number and type of images in public circulation. Brady undertook his first historical project in 1845 by making daguerreotypes of American public figures and having a selection of images reproduced in Frank Leslie’s Illustrated Newspaper where a wide audience could see them. In 1850 Brady continued to unite portraiture, history, and publishing through his Gallery of Illustrious Americans, a collection of twelve lithographic portraits, based on the studio’s work, that included John James Audubon, John Calhoun, Henry Clay, and Daniel Webster. Humphrey’s Journal of the Daguerreotype, June 15, 1853, describes the atmosphere of manufactured elegance at Brady’s Broadway studio where, for a modest fee, one could fabricate a vision:

character and finest expression of which that particular face or figure could ever have been capable. But in the result there is to be no departure from truth in the delineation and representation of beauty, and expression, and character.31

Additionally, Southworth & Hawes made one of the first powerful images portraying the brutality of slavery, which has been called “one of the earliest conceptual portraits in that a body part can stand for the total personality.”32 The piece, commissioned by Henry Ingersoll Bowditch, an American physician and a prominent Christian abolitionist, is an uncommon close-up of Captain Jonathan W. Walker’s hand, an ardent abolitionist and a conductor along the underground railroad. His hand was branded with the letters, “S.S.,” for slave stealer,

The floors are carpeted with superior velvet tapestry, highly colored…. The walls are covered with satin and gold paper. The ceiling frescoed, and in the center is suspended a six-light gilt and enameled chandelier… The harmony is not the least disturbed by the superb rosewood furniture—tête-à-têtes, reception and easy chairs, and marble-top tables, all of which are multiplied by mirrors from ceiling to floor. Suspended on the walls, we find Daguerreotypes of Presidents, Generals, Kings, Queens, Noblemen—and more nobler men—men and women of all nations and professions.33

SOUTHWORTH & HAWES. The Branded Hand of Captain Jonathan Walker, 1845. 2.2 x 2.5 inches. Daguerreotype. The inscription on the back of the case reads: “This Daguerreotype was taken by Southworth Aug. 1845 it is a copy of Captain Jonathan Walker’s hand as branded by the U.S. Marshall of the Dist. of Florida for having helped 7 men to obtain ‘Life Liberty, and Happiness.’” SS Slave Saviour Northern Dist. SS Slave Stealer Southern Dist. As the daguerreotype process reverses the subject matter, the image appears to be the left hand, but is actually the right hand. COURTESY

The Massachusetts Historical Society, Boston, MA.

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UNKNOWN PHOTOGRAPHER. Butterfly Collector, circa 1850. 2¾ × 3¼ inches. Daguerreotype. COURTESY

George Eastman Museum, Rochester, NY.

THE ART OF THE DAGUERREAN PORTRAIT

Delaroche who has been misquoted in numerous texts as stating upon seeing his first daguerreotype that painting was “dead.”34 J. J. Grandville’s Scenes from the Private and Public Life of Animals (1842) lampooned this anxious outlook with the tale of a budding portrait painter turned daguerreotypist. The story tells of a talented monkey studying painting in Paris, who discovers that creativity, rather than imitation, is needed to be an artist. To overcome his lack of imagination, the monkey buys a daguerreotype outfit and returns to his native

Before the daguerreotype, artists specializing in hand-size painted miniatures did most portraiture. Many artists, afraid that the daguerreotype would destroy their livelihood, mocked the new form as third rate and its practitioners as untalented. This fear voiced itself in one of photography’s most frequently quoted aphorisms, that of the artist Paul

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Brazil to open the first daguerrean portrait gallery. He becomes fashionable when all of the jungle society come to have their pictures made. At the pinnacle of success, he is ruined by the narcissism of a king and in despair throws himself into the Amazon River. Despite the mockery, portrait miniaturists saw their sales plummet. Some, such as Carl Stelzner (1805–1894) of Germany, became daguerreotypists; the French painter J. Mansion joined Antoine Claudet’s London studio, where he colored and retouched daguerreotypes. Many artists who continued to make miniatures incorporated the photographic process into their working methods. Instead of drawing a portrait by hand, they painted directly on top of a daguerreotype image. Other portrait painters used daguerreotypes in lieu of their subject to lessen the misery of having a person sit for a portrait, but by 1860, miniature painting was defunct. Since there was no formal school or aesthetic of photography, the “art” was passed from one practitioner to the next. As the primary studio agenda was to make money, technique rather than aesthetics was normally stressed. Individuals like Samuel F. B. Morse were important because they taught others, including Southworth, Brady, and Edward Anthony, who then played key roles in establishing an American photographic practice. Sophisticated studios, especially Brady’s, wanted to design poses that revealed more than the outer facade of a sitter. Most mass-market studios, like Plumbe’s, combined capitalism and democratic experience: Everyone got the same product, leading the public to think the photographic process was mechanical and automatic. Such daguerreotype studios chronicled ordinary faces, which added up to a synthesized national personality. After viewing hundreds of daguerrean portraits one is struck by the plain ordinariness of the sitters’ faces rather than their exceptional beauty. Thus, a new portrait genre appeared emphasizing the commonplace as

its theme, with tradespeople such as cobblers and seamstresses commemorating their labors, and the middle class often showing off their trade and/or possessions.

AFRICAN AMERICAN OPERATORS African Americans were in the business as well, building a wealth of images in a community where most portraits previously did not exist. Jules Lion is credited with inaugurating the daguerreotype in New Orleans. From 1843 to 1853 Augustus Washington (1820–1875) operated daguerrean studios in Hartford, CT, before moving to Liberia, where he also made daguerreotypes. In New York City, Berthe Wehnert ran a calotype studio. In an era of slavery, oppression, and violence Frederick Douglass addressed the issue of self-representation in The Liberator, a Boston-based abolitionist newspaper, published by William Lloyd Garrison between 1831 and 1865. Negroes can never have impartial portraits, at the hands of white artists. It seems to us next to impossible for white men to take likenesses of black men, without most grossly exaggerating their distinctive features. And the reason is obvious. Artists, like all other white persons, have adopted a theory respecting the distinctive features of Negro physiognomy. We have heard many white persons say, that ‘Negroes look all alike,’ and that they could not distinguish between the old and the young. They associate with the Negro face, high cheek bones, distended nostril, depressed nose, thick lips, and retreating foreheads. This theory impressed strongly upon the mind of an artist exercises a powerful influence over his pencil, and very naturally leads him to distort and exaggerate those peculiarities, even when they scarcely exist in the original.35

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AUGUSTUS WASHINGTON. John Brown, circa 1847. 3¼ × 4¼ inches. Daguerreotype. This daguerreotype of abolitionist John Brown was taken by African American photographer Augustus Washington twelve years before Brown led his aborted slave insurrection in Harpers Ferry, West Virginia. Before the introduction of the daguerreotype, it is unlikely that a working person like Brown would have a likeness for future generations to ponder.

James Presley Ball, Sr. (1825–1904), a free light-skinned, African American man36 became a daguerreotypist after studying with John B. Bailey, a Black daguerrean from Boston, at White Sulphur Springs, (now West) Virginia. Born in Virginia, Ball spent his youth in Cincinnati. Between several attempts to establish a gallery in his hometown, Ball worked as an itinerant operator, before succeeding there in 1849. He opened a second Cincinnati gallery on New Year’s Day in 1851, the nationally

known “Great Daguerrean Gallery of the West.” An active abolitionist, Ball commissioned Ball’s Splendid Mammoth Pictorial Tour of the United States Comprising Views of the African Slave Trade…,37 a 1,800-foot long painted panorama that depicted scenes related to slavery, from capture in West Africa to freedom in Canada. Thousands viewed the painting in Cincinnati and Boston. Ball’s gallery was destroyed by a tornado in 1860 and his friends helped re-outfit it, which would gain the reputation

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JAMES PRESLEY BALL & Son. William C. Irvin, Helena, MT, circa 1890. 4¼ x 6½ inches. Albumen silver cabinet card. James Presley Ball’s studio portrait of AfricanAmerican policeman, William C. Irvin, records him wearing his Independent Order of Odd Fellows Uniform, which is comprised of a hat with the I.O.O.F. links decorating the front, dark sack coat, and a white shirt with standing collar with bow tie. A pleated sash is draped over his right shoulder and a button and badge with ribbon reads: “GOLDEN CITY HELENA…” COURTESY

Montana State Historic Preservation,

Helena, MT.

as “the finest photographic gallery west of the Allegheny Mountains.”38 Ball photographed prominent sitters like Frederick Douglass, Charles Dickens, the family of Ulysses S. Grant, and Queen Victoria. Working with his son, James P. Ball, Jr., they later opened studios in Minneapolis; Helena, Montana; and Seattle. Ball’s best-known series was made in Helena in 1896, of the execution of William

Biggerstaff, a Black man who was convicted of murdering another Black man. A group of cabinet cards show Biggerstaff first sitting pensively in a chair, then hooded and suspended from the hangman’s noose, and finally stiffly laid out in his coffin. A similar series depicts William Gay, Biggerstaff ’s cellmate and another convicted murderer.

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POST-MORTEM PORTRAITS

even during the birthing process, and then quickly shared on social media. Due to photography’s newness back then, it is reasonable to assume that many daguerreotype post-mortem portraits, especially those of infants and young children, were probably the only photographs ever made of those particular “sitters.” Funerary pictures can fascinate and provoke questions about the effect of photographs. Do such images preserve the “presence” of the dead, or do they make us more aware of their absence? Do photographs that picture someone who no longer exists recall death, or life? Are all photographs funerary in the sense that they show us something from the past that will never be that way again? Do we make photographs to transcend space and time in an attempt to cheat death?39

The daguerrean portrait permitted everyone to join the immortals by leaving their image for the future. Even death could be cheated, as those who had not found the time in life for a daguerreotype could be memorialized in death. Often considered morbid by contemporary audiences, post-mortem images were commonplace in the nineteenth century, where death occurred in the home and was a much more ordinary part of life. It seems natural for people to want something by which to remember loved ones, just as they do today. The difference today is the omnipresence of photographs. Now, the first photographs of a person are often taken within moments of birth, or

UNKNOWN PHOTOGRAPHER. Postmortem Portrait of an African American Child, circa 1855. 211⁄16 x 23⁄16 inches. Daguerreotype. A popular advertising slogan for early daguerreotypists was “Secure the Shadow ’ere the Substance Fade,” a reminder to customers that their daguerreotype would preserve the image of a loved one. The numerous post-mortem portraits of children act as a sorrowful reminder of the high mortality rates for children at that time. Post-mortem photography continued into the first decades of the twentieth century, particularly in African American communities. COURTESY

The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles, CA

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THE DAGUERREOTYPE AND THE LANDSCAPE

survey of the disputed northeast boundary between the United States and Canada, invited Edward Anthony to make daguerreotypes of the area.40 In 1842, these plates were submitted to a joint commission and reportedly influenced its decision, thus setting a precedent for the use of photographic images as topographical evidence.41 John Charles Frémont, who unsuccessfully attempted to make daguerreotypes on his first expedition to the Oregon Trail in 1842, hired painter Solomon Nunes Carvalho (1815–1897), one of the first American-born Jewish artists, to make daguerreotypes of his fifth Rocky Mountain crossing in 1853—a trip that turned into an ordeal when the group nearly perished in the snowy mountains of Utah. Carvalho later recounted:

Joseph-Philibert Girault de Prangey (1804‒1892) was an aristocrat who trained in landscape painting and had an inheritance that allowed him to travel throughout the Eastern Mediterranean from 1842 to 1845. During this time Girault de Prangey made more than one thousand daguerreotypes—the largest known existing time-capsule from this period and the earliest surviving photographs of Greece, Egypt, Syria, Lebanon, Turkey, and Jerusalem, and among the first depicting Italy. These locations were of intense interest due to the “Eastern Question”: the economic, military, and political instability of the Ottoman Empire that produced strategic and political competition between the European powers and Russia. Many of the sites he recorded have been permanently altered by climate change, conflict, and/or urban planning, Daguerreotypists in the early 1840s faced immense technical challenges, especially in the desert’s dusty and sandy heat, so daguerreotypes from this period are rare. Girault de Prangey used an oversize, custom-made camera, and exposed more than one image on a single plate to make at least six different formats, including horizontal panoramas and narrow vertical compositions. The existence of this collection is due to Girault’s archival process— storing his daguerreotypes in custom-built wood boxes, which he sorted, labeled, and dated. Essentially, Girault made the world’s oldest photographic archive that allowed his physical visual memories to be retrieved, reassembled, and displayed. Strangely, it is unlikely they were ever exhibited in Girault’s lifetime. He seems to have only used them as visual guides to produce a small edition of lithographs. As a result, they did not receive public notice until recently. American daguerreotypists also quickly found new uses for daguerreotypes outside of portraiture. James Renwick, who headed a U.S. government

I succeeded beyond my utmost expectation in producing good results and effects by the Daguerreotype process, on the summits of the highest peaks of the Rocky Mountains with the thermometer at times from 20 degrees to 30 degrees below zero, often standing to my waist in snow, buffing, coating, and mercurializing plates in the open air.42

The traveling became very difficult, and expedition members nearly starved to death, including Carvalho. In desperation, some sources claim that Carvalho buried boxes of his successful daguerreotypes high on the Rocky Mountains in order to lighten the load, and he had hoped to return and pick them up later.43 Sadly, most of Carvalho’s other daguerreotypes and copy negatives, which not only recorded the landscape, but also the Native Americans and their settlements were later destroyed in a fire. Only one plate is known to have survived. Fires were not uncommon during the early studio era due to the use of volatile chemicals in unsafe working conditions and a general lack of concern about safety measures. Nevertheless, his plates were used as models for engravings that transmitted early images of the West to the world. During the late

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JOSEPH-PHILIBERT GIRAULT DE PRANGEY. Ramesseum, Thebes, 1844. 7 3⁄8 x 9½ inches. Daguerreotype. The pillars of the thirteenth-century BC. funerary temple of the pharaoh Rameses II, pictured here, incorporate figures of Osiris, the Egyptian god of death and resurrection. Before gilding the image, Girault purposefully swiped and erased the fragile image surface on all four sides, creating a handmade frame. COURTESY

The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.

1850s, photographic apparatus began to be included in Western expeditions. American daguerreotypists were now documenting such faraway places as Hawaii, Mexico, the Philippines, and South America. They were also often the first to introduce photography to Central and South America, building large-scale portrait practices that established a working model for local people to follow.

The wish to see nature’s wonders and the railroad’s ability to transport people to previously inaccessible places at relatively low costs converted natural sites into tourist attractions. The most popular nineteenth-century North American tourist destination was Niagara Falls,44 which was first daguerreotyped in 1840 by Hugh Lee Pattinson (1796–1858), an English metallurgist visiting the continent to scout a

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PLATT D. BABBITT. Tourists Viewing Niagara Falls from Prospect Point, circa 1855. 6¼ × 8½ inches. Daguerreotype. In the 1800s Prospect Point at Niagara Falls was a popular destination for travelers looking for a transcendent encounter with nature. In 1861 the Catholic Church recognized the Falls, which Native Americans considered to be a sacred place, as a “pilgrim shrine,” where the faithful could ponder the landscape as a work of divine magnificence. Babbitt routinely set up his camera in an open-sided pavilion and candidly photographed tourists admiring the Falls and then got the subjects to purchase their daguerreotype likenesses beside the natural wonder. COURTESY

The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles, CA.

daguerreotypes by 1853. His convention of showing tourists taking in the view and thus joining them to the scene, became a formula, fostering a new bourgeois visual pastime: the vacation picture.

potential mining investment. The views he made on the Canadian side are the first recorded use of the daguerrean process in Canada, and one was the basis for a plate in Excursions Daguerriennes in 1841.45 On the American side, Platt D. Babbitt (1822–1879) obtained a monopolized concession for making

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THE DAGUERREOTYPE AND SCIENCE

John Adams Whipple (1822–1891) had brought together science and daguerreotyping in his Boston studio. He used a steam engine to clean his plates, heat his chemicals, distill his water, and fan his clients in the summer. Whipple’s scientific background as a chemist and his mechanical inventiveness gave him the credentials to realize the desire of Harvard astronomers to make a daguerreotype of the moon. Whipple began his experiments in December 1849 at what was then the world’s largest telescope. In July 1850, he made the first clear daguerreotype of a star other than the sun. In March 1851, Whipple made the first successful daguerreotype of the moon through a telescope. The image won him a medal at the Great Exhibition in London that same year. This is paradoxical, as astronomical photography requires total darkness to see, while photography is premised on the need for reflected light. In any case, members of the American Philosophical Society who had viewed two of Whipple’s daguerreotypes of the moon recorded the immediate ramifications of this event in a report:

By the mid-1800s, optical devices like the microscope and the telescope had substantially expanded the threshold of visibility beyond what the naked eye alone could see. Beginning with the Daguerreotype, photography revealed, in a variety of manners, ranging from macro (astronomy) to micro (microscopy)46 what humans could not previously see unaided, and as a result became a crucial tool in establishing modern scientific disciplines. Aesthetic attitudes toward nature shifted with those of science. The daguerreotype, with its built-in wealth of detail and geometric perspective, was quickly accepted as a reliable scientific witness that also conditioned viewers to embrace photographic representation as the normal appearance of things.47 This acceptance allowed photographs to be used for study purposes instead of actual subjects. As William M. Ivins, Jr., founding curator of the department of prints at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, NY, stated, it would be “through photography that art and science have had their most striking effect upon the thought of the average man of today.”48 As early as 1840, William H. Goode of Yale University was making daguerreotypes from a (solar) microscope,49 setting the precedent for the miniaturization of data. By 1840 Goode and Professor Benjamin Silliman were attempting to make daguerreotypes with artificial light. In 1850, using fifty pairs of Bunsen’s carbon batteries, Silliman reported his success and its future importance:

Hitherto any attempt to portray the scenery of the moon by drawing, has been entirely unsatisfactory in conveying a true impression of its diversified appearance through a telescope; but he now hoped, from the constant improvement in the art of daguerreotyping, that an enlarged picture of the moon’s disc may be obtained from which engraved maps might be made, so that selenography of our satellite may be studied in our schools, in conjunction with the geography of our planet.52

Such activity was indicative of the appetite for photographic images of natural occurrences, as evidenced by T. M. Easterly’s 1847 “instantaneous” daguerreotype of lightning recorded in St. Louis, MO. Whipple copied one of his moon plates with his own crystalotype process (a glass-plate negative process that used egg white to hold the

In the United States, where fine sunlight may be obtained almost any day … these trials may be considered of minor importance… But in the dark and murky atmosphere of London, it may become an important auxiliary in the art.50

The Daguerreian Journal,51 the world’s first photographic magazine, reported in July 1851 that

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JOHN WHIPPLE. The Moon, 1852. 3¼ × 4¼ inches. Daguerreotype. Whipple, working with George Phillips Bond (1825–1865), the director of Harvard College Observatory, made lunar daguerreotypes that were internationally recognized for their accuracy and aesthetics. One of their lunar daguerreotypes was shown at the Great Exhibition of 1851 where it won a medal.

light-sensitive emulsion in place) to produce paper prints, which were tipped (glued) into the July 1853 issue of the Photographic Art-Journal. The daguerreotype dispersed new knowledge to a large audience, offering fresh ways of knowing the universe. The nineteenth century, which had opened with people believing that what was

reasonable was true, would conclude with photography encouraging people to believe that what they saw was true.

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JOSEPH T. ZEALY. Renty, Congo, on plantation of B.F. Taylor, Columbia, South Carolina, 1850. 3¼ x 4¼ inches. Daguerreotype. COURTESY

Peabody Museum, Harvard University, Cambridge, MA.

pseudoscience and slavery Pseudoscience comprises beliefs, practices, and/ or statements that claim to be both scientific and factual, but are contradictory with the scientific method and utilized to spread questionable, fraudulent, and/or dangerous claims. A prime example can be seen in the work of Dr. Louis Agassiz, a prominent biologist and Harvard professor. Dr. Agassiz

commissioned Joseph T. Zealy (1812–1893) of Charleston, South Carolina to photograph several of B. F. Taylor’s Columbia plantation slaves as part of an anthropological project in which he hypothesized that humans were not comprised of a single species. The result was fifteen daguerreotypes of first- and second-generation slaves (men, women,

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and children), mostly nudes, that focused on body types for comparative analysis. They were purposely crafted to analyze the physical differences between European whites and African Blacks and to prove the superiority of the white race. Agassiz hoped to present these deadpan photographs as evidence proving his racist theory of “separate creation,” the notion that the different human races were actually separate species. These typologies, thought to be the first of their kind, were not publicized at the time, and were later rigorously criticized by historians for utilizing pseudoscientific notions to perpetuate racial stereotypes and promote white superiority.53 Some have suggested that these images are too painful to be publicly shown. Others say this begs the question of being able to utilize photography as a means of confronting the dehumanizing reality of slavery and other forms of injustice. At the core is the issue of consent. Usually, problems arise when the descendants of former slaves do not want their ancestors’ photographs depicted or when Native Americans do not want their rites and community members depicted in ways that violate their cultural traditions. Yet, such photographs are routinely exhibited by museums without including the communities in the discussion regarding their presentation. Both positions tell us that photography was considered capable of generating affect—as in impacting the psyche of the viewer in such a way that it can sway the viewer’s political position and knowledge of history. Meaning, photography can and is often used to tell an overarching story beyond what a single image can contain.54 At the start of the 1850s the daguerreotype appeared to be reigning triumphant, but the expanding picture market demanded cheaper, easier, and faster methods of reproduction than the process could provide. By 1854 the daguerreotype was in decline as influential studios turned to the new collodion method. Within a few years, the flow of daguerreotypes had slowed to a trickle, with more

portraits and views being made in the collodion process than by all others combined.55 The era of unique daguerreotypes was about to be toppled by Henry Fox Talbot’s concept of a repeatable, negative/positive system of “photography.” But the speed at which the daguerreotype had been accepted and disseminated clearly demonstrated that it was an archetypal invention that fulfilled the desire for realistic commemoration that the world had been waiting to receive while transforming society’s sense of how time and space were visually represented.

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On March 8, 1839, while visiting with Morse to inspect the telegraph, Daguerre’s diorama burnt to the ground. For a sense of how important the Diorama was to Daguerre, see Daguerre’s “Description of the Process of Painting and Effects of Light Invented by Daguerre, and Applied by Him to the Pictures of the Diorama” (1839), in Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory: An Historical Anthology (Boston and Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell, 2014), 31–34. A speech Morse delivered in 1840 to the National Academy of Design in New York, of which he was a founder. See: “Photographic Memory,” www.laphamsquarterly.org/technology/photographicmemory This letter was published in The Observer (New York), April 20, 1839, and reprinted in many newspapers around the country. See Arago’s July 1839 “Report [on the Daguerreotype to the Chamber of Deputies]” in Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 48–53. A common misconception seems to locate the origin of the expression “to have one’s portrait taken” within the practice of photography. In fact, as is common to the medium, the term is an extended use of existing artistic vocabulary. According to the sixth edition of the Shorter Oxford English Dictionary (2007), the use of the word take to mean, “draw or delineate,” pre-dates photography by about four centuries. Thanks to Greg Drake for pointing this out. “Trailblazing findings on the properties of daguerreotypes by University of New Mexico,” June 10, 2019, https://phys.org/news/2019-06-trailblazing-

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12 Mesmerism, also known as animal-magnetism or hyp-

properties-daguerreotypes.html?fbclid=IwAR3hOzG1OhuA0X6-XrPW2pw9Q1Zxq7LiE3PFgsrHlDMv9GSxRpQfQl47w Aquatint is an etching method characterized by extensive tonal graduations, from pale gray to velvety black, and possessing a granular visual effect. The name derives from its resemblance to works done with watercolor washes, and it was often used to make color prints. Little is certain about D. W. Seager, as he has always been known in the secondary photographic literature. A British citizen, he may have been a dentist as well as the brother of artist and drawing instructor Edward Seager (1809–1886). In The Daguerreotype in America (Greenwich, CT: New York Graphic Society, 1968, revised ed., 158) Beaumont Newhall cites a pamphlet Seager wrote, The Resources of Mexico Apart from the Precious Metals (Mexico City: Printed by J. White, 1867). After Seager’s death, this work was published in a Spanish translation prepared by his daughter that included her father’s given names: Recursos de Mexico ademas de los metales preciosos. Opúsculo escrito en Inglés por David Guillermo Seager en 1867. Traducido al Español por su hija Laura Seager en 1884. (México: Imprenta de Francisco Diaz de Leon, 1884). Biographical details and bibliographic citations COURTESY Greg Drake. Marcus A. Root, The Camera and the Pencil (Philadelphia, PA: M. A. Root, etc., 1864), 342. This is America’s first photographic history book. Despite the efforts of lexicographer Noah Webster (1758–1843), spelling and pronunciation in antebellum America were far from standardized. Daguerreotype (da-GAIR-a-type) was no exception. In fact, confusion was such that “The Daguerreotype,” Edgar Allen Poe’s article on the still new invention published in the January 15, 1840, issue of Alexander’s Weekly Messenger (Philadelphia), opened with a lesson on his recommended spelling and pronunciation, which favored the word’s French origins. Although Poe’s advice never caught on, he followed the already established (and eventually abandoned) convention of capitalizing the medium’s name in deference to its inventor. The greatest variation will be found in the adjective form, with daguerrean appearing to be the most common spelling of the period and the one used in this text, except in quotation of another usage (e.g. The Daguerreian Journal). For more on this theme, see Leo Marx,  The Machine in the Garden: Technology and the Pastoral Ideal in America (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1964).

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notism, was popularized by the Austrian doctor, Franz Anton Mesmer (1734–1815). The headrest was not invented for daguerreotype portraits but was already in use by portrait painters. The daguerreotype transformed it into a familiar object by removing it from its painterly context. Letter signed “G” discussing his visit to Wolcott’s studio in New York City in 1840, where Wolcott was setting up a room for making daguerreotype portraits, American Journal of Photography, 1861, 42. See Nadar (Gaspard Felix Tournachon), When I Was a Photographer, Eduardo Cadava and Liana Theodoratou (trans.), (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 2015), 4. “Talk in the Studio/How to Take a Fidgety Sitter,” American Journal of Photography, 1861. Reprinted in  The Photographic News, vol. 5, no. 125 ( January 25, 1861), 48. “Talk in the Studio/Painless Photography,”  Western Photographic News. As quoted in The Photographic News, May 7, 1875, 228. The Amateur Photographer,  February 22, 1915, 4 (supplement). Ralph Waldo Emerson,  Journals, 1841–1844  (Boston, MA: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1911), 100–1. This quote links up with pre-Socratic Greek philosopher Heraclitus of Ephesus, who stated: “No man ever steps in the same river twice,” referencing the position that change is the fundamental essence of the universe. Goddard published repeatable results in December of 1840. Other daguerreotypists refined the method so that exposures could be made within a 20- to 40-second range. When coupled with the Petzval lens, exposure times could be reduced to 10 seconds or less, opening the profitable gates of the portrait market. Claudet’s active mind led him to make numerous contributions to the field, including using a red “safe” light to see in the darkroom; designing painted backgrounds for pictorial effect in portrait making (1841); building a camera with a red safelight window so the plate could be developed inside the camera, thereby eliminating the need to always have a darkroom; making improvements in the hand-coloring of plates (1845); building the first light meter (1848); building a “dynactinometer” to compare the speed of different lenses (1850); and developing a shutter-type device that created the illusion of movement (1852). Unfortunately, a year after he died in 1867, a fire swept through his studio and destroyed some 20,000 of his daguerreotypes, negatives, and prints.

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33 British Journal of Photography, XVIII (1871), 583.

22 Gilding was performed after the daguerreotype was fixed.

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The plate was heated over a low flame and a solution of gold chloride was poured over it. This produced a warm brown tone, adding detail to the highlight areas and improving the contrast. The gold coating helped to render the fragile surface of the plate less susceptible to abrasion, increasing life expectancy of the plate. Since gold is more stable than silver, gilding helped to protect the image from oxidation and tarnishing. After its introduction in 1840, gilding became a standard part of the process. In 1841 Fizeau patented a process for etching daguerreotypes by converting a daguerreotype plate into an intaglio printing plate, which has an incised surface, and then using ink to print the duplicated image on paper. “Reminiscences of an Old Photographer,” by Thomas Sutton, The British Journal of Photography, vol. XIV, no. 382 (August 30, 1867), 413. The high quality of the American images became a source of national pride in international competitions, like the Crystal Palace Exposition in London (1851), where American mechanical products—axes, clocks, hoes, nails, ploughs, screws—were hailed for their ingenuity. Horace Greeley, who founded (1841) and edited the New-York Daily Tribune, wrote of the London exhibition that in “Daguerreotypes … we [Americans] beat the world.” Historical Statistics of the United States  (Washington, D.C.: Bureau of the Census, 1975), Part 1, 164–65. The Photographic Fine Art Journal, Old Series, VIII, New Series V 2, (1855), 76. For additional information, see Michael Koetzle,  1000 Nudes: Uwe Scheid Collection (Cologne: Taschen, 2001). Anthony’s Photographic Bulletin, vol. XV (1884), 63. See: John Stauffer,“Why Abolitionist Frederick Douglass Loved the Photograph,” in the Smithsonian and Zócalo Public Square series “What it Means to Be American,” www.whatitmeanstobeamerican.org/identities/why-abolitionist-frederick-douglass-loved-the-photograph. Also see John Stauffer et al., Picturing Frederick Douglass: An Illustrated Biography of the Nineteenth Century’s Most Photographed American (New York: Liveright, 2015). Obituary. “Died,”  New-York Daily Tribune, June 17, 1847, 3. COURTESY Greg Drake. Email correspondence with early American daguerreotype expert. British Journal of Photography, XVIII (1871), 583. Robert A. Sobieszek and Odette M. Appel, The Spirit of Fact: The Daguerreotypes of Southworth & Hawes (Boston: Godine, 1976), p. 23.

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publicly endorse the use of photography by artists. There is no evidence that he ever made any such apocalyptic statement. Frederick Douglass “Negro Portraits,”  The Liberator  (April 20, 1849), 2. www.theliberatorfiles.com/ doug-lass-claims-negro-portraits-white-artists-neverimpartial/ James P. Ball appears in the U.S. Census for 1860, 1870, and 1900. His race is recorded variously as Mulatto, Black, and white, respectively. His parents, William and Susan, also appear in the 1860 census; their race is given as Mulatto. COURTESY Greg Drake. Thanks to Theresa Leininger-Miller, who is researching Ball’s biography, for details of his career. See: Deborah Willis (ed.),  J. P Ball: Daguerrean and Studio Photographer  (New York: Garland Publishing, 1993) for a facsimile of  Ball’s Splendid Mammoth Pictorial Tour of the United States Comprising Views of the African Slave Trade; of Northern and Southern Cities; of Cotton and Sugar Plantations; of the Mississippi, Ohio and Susquehanna Rivers, Niagara Falls, &C  (1855), a pamphlet published to accompany the panorama. Also included is a visual inventory of many of Ball’s known images. George W. Williams,  History of the Negro Race in America from 1619 to 1880: Negroes as Slaves, as Soldiers and Citizens 2 (New York: G. P. Putnam’s Sons, 1883), 141. Quoted in Willis, J. P Ball, xvii. For more on this topic, see Stanley Burns,  Sleeping Beauty: Memorial Photography in America  (Santa Fe: Twelvetrees Press, 1990) and Stanley and Elizabeth A. Burns, Sleeping Beauty II: Grief Bereavement in Memorial Photography American and European Traditions  (New York: Burns Archive Press, 2002). See also André Bazin, “The Ontology of the Photographic Image,” in Hershberger, ed.,  Photographic Theory, 176–80. According to Bazin, photography “embalms time, rescuing it simply from its proper corruption.” Bazin famously links photography to the ancient Egyptian practice of mummification (p. 176 passim). The United States claimed there were highlands on the border while the British denied their existence. Anthony’s daguerreotypes (now lost) apparently showed these highlands. Andrew C. Holman. “A Not-too distant Mirror: The Talcott Commission (1840–43) and the Meaning of

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the Border,”  Bridgewater Review, vol. 29, no. 1, (2020), 19–21, http://vc.bridgew.edu/br_rev/vol29/iss1/10 The Photographic and Fine Art Journal, Old Series, vol. V.; New Series vol. 2, no. 8 (1855), 124–25. For details of his 2,400 mile journey from New York City to Parowan Utah see: Solomon Nunes Carvalho, Incidents of Travel and Adventure in the Far West with Colonel Frémont’s Last Expedition (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 2004 reprint). The opening of the Erie Canal, from New York to Buffalo, NY, in 1825 saw a marked rise in public transportation. Railroads soon followed the same route, spurring the growth of the tourist industry. Graham W. Garrett, “Canada’s First Daguerreian Image,”  History of Photography, vol. 20, no. 2 (Summer 1996), 101–3. Frenchmen, Alfred Donné and Léon Foucault, published an atlas of microscopic images of nature using a daguerrotypic microscope: Atlas executé d’après nature au microscope-daguerrotype (Paris: J.B. Baillière, etc.,1844– 45), https://wellcomecollection.org/works/nbp87rbk#? c=0&m=0&s=0&cv=0&z=-1.1463%2C0%2C3.2925 %2C1.6682 This leads into a longstanding and still ongoing theoretical debate about whether linear perspectival and photographic images render their subjects in a “natural” manner. See excerpts of numerous articles in Hershberger, ed.,  Photographic Theory, including those by Alberti (1540), 24–28, Panofsky (1927), 156–60, Goodman (1968), 207–10, and Galassi (1981), 214–18, among others. William Ivins,  Prints and Visual Communication  (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul Ltd., 1953). Excerpt in Photography in Print: Writing from 1816 to the Present, 387–88. Microdaguerreotypes reduced printed material to Lilliputian size for reading under magnification, and were invented in 1839 by British scientific instrument maker John Benjamin Dancer (1812–1887). Dancer reduced a 20-inch-long document to one-eighth of an inch, achieving a reduction ratio of 160:1. See Lance Day and Ian McNeil, eds.,  Biographical Dictionary of the History of Technology  (London and New York: Routledge, 1998), 333–34. American Journal of Science and Arts, vol. 11 (May 1851), 418. The Daguerreian Journal  was edited by S. D. Humphrey of NewYork. It began publication on November

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1, 1850, and continued under various other mastheads until 1870. H. H. Snelling of New York edited another important publication,  The Photographic Art Journal. The first issue was dated January 1851 and it also materialized under a series of different titles before ceasing publication in 1860. Both were important assets for the American daguerreotypist, providing a national forum on the latest technical improvements and lively debates about current practice and setting the stage for future publications. Proceedings of the American Philosophical Society  ( July– December 1851), 208. More at: Brian Wallis, “Bodies, White Science: Louis Agassiz’s Slave Daguerreotypes,” American Art, vol. 9, no. 2 (Summer, 1995), 38–61. See: Ilisa Barbash, Molly Rogers, Deborah Willis, To Make Their Own Way in the World: The Enduring Legacy of the Zealy Daguerreotypes (New York: Aperture) 2020. “The Collodion Process—its Use and Abuse,”  Humphrey’s Journal, vol. 7, no. 18 ( January 15, 1856), 281–82.

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CHAPTER THREE

Calotype Rising: The Arrival of Photography

THE CALOTYPE

capital to invest.3 Later in 1841, Talbot contracted with Antoine Claudet, who had opened a London daguerreotype studio in June, to offer calotype portraits, but his success was negligible. The calotype process was extremely slow, impure chemicals gave uncertain results, prints often faded, and the highly visible paper fibers produced a soft and grainy look that many people found undesirable. As a result, the process was considered unreliable, and few wanted calotype portraits. Nevertheless, the limitations of the daguerreotype, especially in terms of reproducibility, started to become apparent. Upon reconsideration, people realized that Talbot’s linkage of light and paper furnished a conceptual and technical elegance that united printmaking and science. This proves that the history of photography is both about the possibilities of the medium as well as its broader cultural and social reception. The calotype offered a mechanism for mass-produced pictures that fed Europeans’ growing desire for making art more “accurate,” accessible, and affordable, which would lead to the daguerreotype’s downfall. The initially perceived “faults” of Talbot’s negative/positive system actually gave it a versatility that proved to be its strength. The calotype’s visual softness neutralizes singular details, which subordinate the subject. The calotype’s flexibility allowed photographers to manipulate the image before producing a

The introduction and acceptance of new mechanically based devices and processes of visual representation began to alter the viewing content and expectations of imagemakers and the public. Lithography, mezzotint,1  and wood engraving fueled the economic market for the mass production of prints. Daguerre’s high-resolution direct-positive imagemaking method was an ideal fit for these visual conceptions, despite its irreproducibility. The possibility that Talbot’s two-step, negative/positive print system was a more advantageous process was not at first seriously considered. The daguerreotype’s wizardry had mesmerized viewers with its detailed, miniature, monochrome reflections of the world. Even Talbot’s friend Herschel said of daguerreotypes that, “Certainly they surpass anything I could have conceived as within the bounds of reasonable expectation.”2  Daguerre also held the economic and political advantage, as the British government offered Talbot neither a pension nor honors for his discovery. Talbot had to advocate his own cause, patenting his process in February 1841 and demanding a high license fee, which added to its production cost. His patents not only proved unprofitable, but they also had the deleterious side effect of inhibiting the growth of photography in England by confining its commercial use to those few with

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print. To increase its light sensitivity, albumen and iodizing solutions were applied to the paper before exposure. Waxing the negative with beeswax made the paper more transparent and increased visual detail. Retouching was prevalent; pencil, graphite, and watercolor were used to compensate for the material’s lack of sensitivity to the visual spectrum, to remove surface defects, to add highlights, and to create points of visual emphasis. India-ink was commonly applied to black out the sky portion of a negative so it would print as a clear blank space. Long exposures did not stop movement, and blurry clouds and/or densely over-exposed and uneven skies gave a mottled effect. Blacking out the sky also hid the imperfections of the paper matrix that were brought out by subjects with little surface detail. India-ink was also applied to the paper negative to eliminate some parts of the camera-made image and to add others, such as drawing in mountains on a flat horizon. In nineteenth-century academic art theory, the intense detail of the daguerreotype was considered detrimental to  effect. The contours of what was depicted outdid the overall “whole” of the image and as a result looking upon it was not deemed pleasurable to everybody. The calotype excelled in effect, the emotional atmosphere created by the artist’s handling of tonal masses (areas of light and shadow) as a distinguished whole to some extent separate from individual linear elements. As photographers considered the artistic potential of their medium, they adopted these painterly concepts, considering photographic detail a mechanical imprint, and the control of tonality as the mark of artistry.4 The calotype was grounded in the Romantic aesthetics of relative and personal truths, which reached a zenith around 1800, the year of Talbot’s birth. The Romantic aesthetic ideal emphasized the picturesque and featured rushing brooks, overgrown foliage, and tumbledown structures. These aesthetic ideals began in England during the late eighteenth century as an alternative method for examining

nature and as a guide for making gardens. Providing a construct for seeing what in nature would make a good picture, it gave viewers a prescribed route through an image. Intuition and imagination were of prime importance and people were often incorporated into a picture as a device to help viewers negotiate the space and find their place in nature. A successful work of art did not simply reflect reality or personify an absolute and rationally regarded ideal, but provided insight into the internal working of the subject being depicted. The picturesque landscape of Romanticism was built on the pictorial concepts of the sublime and the beautiful, opposing schema that cannot commingle. The  sublime, like a storm on the ocean, locates its origins in the awe, terror, and vastness beyond human scale, while the  beautiful, a calm harbor sunset, situates its lineage within the feminine organization of society. The artistic sublime is a masculine term that refers to a greatness with which nothing can be compared, that is beyond the possibility of calculation, imitation, and measurement. Characteristics of the sublime include astonishment, darkness, infinity, solitude, and immensity. It features intense directional  light and a dynamic interaction between highlights and shadows. Being delicate, rounded, smooth, and well-proportioned, the beautiful is less powerful and favors a soft, diffused light. It was admirable, but it was not capable of arousing great passion. Talbot’s book of Sun Pictures in Scotland (1845) provides a pictorial tribute to Sir Walter Scott’s Romantic concepts of the gothic and picturesque, featuring disintegrating structures, dramatic use of light emphasizing bright versus shadowy areas, secluded settings, and serpentine, undisturbed vistas. Their warm, luxurious tones and soft delineation of form, intuitively expressed Romantic pictorialism before the fact.5

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THE CALOTYPE ACROSS THE ATLANTIC

Henneman, Talbot’s Dutch valet, photographic assistant, and business manager. Talbot’s The Pencil of Nature was the first book to be fully illustrated by calotypes (earlier he had issued a pamphlet with a calotype on the cover).6 Published by subscription, with fewer than 300 copies released in installments between June 1844 and April 1846, The Pencil of Nature realized Talbot’s dream of “every man being his own printer and publisher” and of “poor authors [making] facsimiles of their works in their own handwriting.”7  The progenitor of the photographically illustrated book promoted Talbot’s calotype process along with his far-reaching commentary on the aesthetics and future potential of the medium. The introduction to The Pencil of Nature  traces the invention of the process, and the succeeding twenty-four sections illustrate and discuss its possible applications, including artistic

Talbot was an aristocrat who photographed the daily activities of his estate, family, and servants, providing a model for future backyard snapshot shooters. During his travels in Britain and Europe during the early 1840s, Talbot made as many as twenty calotype negatives a day, showing his enthusiasm as well as the ease with which calotypes could be made. The negative material could be prepared the evening before, freeing a calotypist from needing a darkroom before and after each exposure. While traveling on business, Talbot would develop his paper negatives each evening and mail the results back to his estate at Lacock Abbey. Upon their receipt, the negatives were printed by Constance Talbot, making her the first woman photographic processor, and Nicolaas

WILLIAM HENRY FOX TALBOT. The Open Door, 1844. Salted paper print from a calotype negative. Plate VI of The Pencil of Nature (London, 1844–1846). COURTESY  The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles, CA.

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Talbot’s photographic printing establishment at Reading, circa 1845. COURTESY  Harry Ransom Center, The University of Texas at Austin.

expression, documentary uses, art duplication, scientific illustration, and study and teaching assistance, providing an astonishingly accurate vision of things to come. The book’s calotypes feature architectural studies, still-life compositions, and works of art alongside a page or two of text discussing the purpose of each image, setting a precedent, derived from printmaking, for pairing photographic images with words. Choosing to make more than a picture book, Talbot included words to provide the image with a directed context, indicating an awareness of how an image’s meaning can be affected by the text accompanying it. Talbot’s image selections illustrate his belief that subject matter is “subordinate to the exploration of space and light.”8  Three plates show that the calotype excelled in such explorations while securing the ethereal nuances of light reflected by objects. In the two plates of  The Bust of Patroclus, Talbot demonstrated the medium’s pictorial possibilities and creative controls involving the choice of angle of view, type of light, and scale. In his text to The Open Door, Talbot compared vernacular photographic realism, the forerunner of the everyday snapshot, to

Dutch genre painting, and reveals his allegiance to the Romantic picturesque landscape conventions: We have sufficient authority in the Dutch school of art for taking as subjects of representation scenes of daily and familiar occurrence. A painter’s eye will often be arrested where ordinary people see nothing remarkable. A casual gleam of sunshine, or a shadow thrown across his path, a time-withered oak, or a moss-covered stone may awaken a train of thoughts and feelings, and picturesque imaginings.9

Other pictures reveal the calotype’s ability to trap “a multitude of minute details which add to the truth and reality of the representation,”10 which may have been unobserved by the photographer when exposing the negative. His book also foreshadows the strength of photographic imagemaking in its ability to produce multiple (positive) prints from a camera-made matrix (negative). Talbot founded his own photographic printing factory (the first photographic finishing lab), The Talbotype Establishment, in Reading, England, in the fall of 1843. It was a multipurpose facility,

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producing prints for books and reproducing prints of art objects and valuable documents that were sold through retail outlets. Here paper negatives were placed in contact frames with unexposed silver chloride printing-out paper and then exposed, for a couple of minutes to over an hour, in direct sunlight until an image appeared. Afterwards the prints were fixed, washed, and dried. As production procedures were refined, Talbot was able to make thousands of original prints, which were tipped-in (pasted) to illustrate The Pencil of Nature. At the Talbotype Establishment one could also have a portrait made, take lessons, purchase a license to practice, buy equipment and materials, and make arrangements to use the printing and distribution network. These services, plus systematic distribution methods, created standards of practice, bringing together aesthetic ideas and technical inventions that had previously defied standardization. Talbot and his collaborators went on to make more than 4,500 unique negative images, and six times that many positive prints from those negatives. In all, about 25,000 original negatives and prints have survived.11 However, the high cost of producing a limited edition calotype album or book doomed the calotype in the new, congested domain of commercial printmaking.12 The search for a photo-based process capable of reproducing editions of hand-created art at affordable prices led to the invention of numerous processes, the first being cliché-verre. Devised shortly after Talbot announced his photogenic drawing, cliché-verre was the product of three English artists and engravers, John and William Havell and J. T. Wilmore, who exhibited prints from their technique in March 1839.13 Cliché-verre combines the handwork of drawing with the action of light-sensitive photographic materials to make an image. Originally a piece of glass was covered with a dark varnish and permitted to dry, and then etched with a needle. The finished glass was used as a negative and was contact-printed onto photographic paper.

Later, Adalbert Cuvelier modified the cliché-verre to utilize the wet plate glass negative process. High costs and technical difficulties prevented Talbot from receiving any economic benefits from his discoveries. The first prosperous artistic and economic fusion of the calotype was achieved through the collaboration of painter David Octavius Hill (1802–1870) and chemist Robert Adamson (1821–1848) in Scotland, where Talbot did not patent his method. When a large group of clergymen broke from the Church of Scotland at an Edinburgh assembly in 1843, Hill decided to commemorate the event with a large group portrait painting. The idea of obtaining likenesses of the hundreds present, most of whom would leave town shortly, seemed unworkable until Sir David Brewster introduced Hill to young Adamson, who was instructing Brewster in the calotype process. The intersection of diverse ages, backgrounds, and interests produced a blend of aesthetic and technological abilities that made Hill and Adamson’s calotype portrait studies among the finest ever done. Hill’s giant painting, Disruption, not completed until 1866 (when it was hung in the Free Presbytery Hall in Edinburgh), used the camera to replace the eye and hand of the artist in making preparatory sketches, but its unprocessed agglomeration of 457 figures reflects the difficulty of translating the unique physical effects of the photographic medium into a unified painting. The pair’s calotype portraits, made under Hill’s direction, reflect the artistic and stylistic concerns of Dutch genre and Scottish portrait painting. Generally,  the compositions are direct and simple, with each person posed alone, outside, in open daylight (in a set designed to appear to be located indoors).14 Hill diffused the deep shadows that the summer sunlight produced by bouncing light into the scene with a concave mirror, which made for dramatic chiaroscuro lighting (a pictorial treatment favoring the play between light and shadow). Hill and Adamson understood that the calotype was

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matchless at revealing a subject’s interaction with the surrounding space and that the lack of specific details could amplify a subject’s specific personality characteristics. In a letter written in 1848 Hill said: The rough surface, and unequal texture throughout of the paper is the main cause of the Calotype failing in details, before the process of Daguerreotypy—and this is the very life of it. They look like the imperfect work of a man—and not the much diminished perfect work of God.15

Hill and Adamson (traditional shorthand for the partnership that operated as D. O. Hill & R. Adamson) expanded their efforts and soon were doing general portraiture in their outdoor studio and among the monuments of the Greyfriars Cemetery. Before Adamson’s early death in 1848, the partners produced some 1,500 works, including a flawlessly composed series of seemingly casual portraits of the fishing people in nearby Newhaven. In the George Eastman Museum collection of Hill and Adamson’s work, the fingerprints of the creators can be seen along the edges of many of their prints, along with the watermark of the J. Whatman “Turkey Mill” paper.16  Hill and Adamson made the calotype’s suppression of detail an asset. There is a feeling of intimacy and subtle beauty in their tight expressionistic compositions, along with an overwhelming sense of atmosphere: light itself becomes a subject. Hill and Adamson realized that the person in front of the lens was not always the only subject of the picture.17 They knew that good photographs were the result of conscientious, thinking photographers who knew how to control the process, being acutely aware of the light, constructing a vision, and knowing how it would look photographed. Hill and Adamson were disciplined and understood the subjective nature and the limitations of the calotype and how to make the most of the process, thus supplanting the notion of the time that photography was a “natural” medium.

DAVID OCTAVIUS HILL and ROBERT ADAMSON. Lady Elizabeth Eastlake (Miss Rigby), circa 1845. 7 7⁄8 × 6 inches. Salted paper print from a calotype negative. Elizabeth Rigby was a popular sitter for Hill and Adamson, appearing in more than twenty calotypes. One of these is believed to have been the first photograph viewed by Prince Albert. In this composition Rigby appears absorbed in thought. A regular contributor to the Quarterly Review, she selected Hill and Adamson’s work for an 1857 article: “Photography made but slow way in England; and the first knowledge to many even of her existence came back to us from across the Border. It was in Edinburgh where the first earnest, professional practice of the art began, and the calotypes of Messrs. Hill and Adamson remain to this day the most picturesque specimens of the new discovery.”18 More on Rigby in Chapter 6. COURTESY

J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles, CA.

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London’s Crystal Palace Exhibition of 1851 featured the international splendors of artistic, scientific, and technical progress. It included about 700 camera images from six countries, which proved jarring to the small British photographic community. The Americans took the top honors

in daguerreotypes, and the French exhibited such high-quality calotypes that Hill and Adamson received only an honorable mention. This was intolerable to Britain’s gentlemen-amateur calotypists, many of whom knew Talbot. In 1852, the presidents of the Royal Academy and the Royal

PHILIP HENRY DELAMOT TE. Crystal Palace, Central Nave, circa 1854. 9¾ × 7¾ inches. Albumen silver print from glass negative. Interior view of the Crystal Palace at Sydenham Hill, filled with plants and statues. COURTESY

J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles, CA.

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Society, Sir Charles Eastlake and Lord Rosse, sent Talbot a letter affably stating that “the French are unquestionably making more rapid process than we are [and] some judicious alteration of the patent restrictions would give great satisfaction, and be the means of rapidly improving this beautiful art.”19 Talbot, realizing that even his friends no longer supported his efforts to profit from his calotype process, relaxed his rights over amateur work. However, he continued to retain patent rights in professional portraiture. A massive four-volume series of books printed at the conclusion of the Exhibition summarized the best of everything shown.20  These volumes reveal the Victorian appetite for typology—identifying, categorizing, and labeling all the new products of the industrial age. They also make clear the underlying belief that society could be made better by enlightened technical advancement. This optimistic, but paternalistic attitude is exemplified in the series’ factual celebration of the new machine-based culture in which the camera now played a major role as an automatic conveyor of the type and style of information that was in demand.21 The volumes included salted paper prints of the products that were deemed truly worthy by the Victorians: large blocks of coal (which had been placed outside the exhibit hall and numbered); marine and locomotive engines; a turbine; a steam hammer; an electro-magnetic apparatus; an Indian Rubber boat and pontoons; and a model house for working-class families promoted by Prince Albert (the photograph is credited to the prince, an amateur photographer) to “place within the reach … those comforts most conducive to health, to habits of cleanliness and decency, hitherto … enjoyed as luxuries only by the few.”22 Finally able to make calotypes without a license, British calotypists experienced a brief (1852–1857) golden age.23  In January 1853 the Photographic Society of London (called the Royal Photographic Society of Great Britain after 1894) was created with Sir Charles Eastlake as president.24  The

Society commenced publishing its  Journal of the Photographic Society in March 1853 to facilitate the exchange of information.

william newton and the question of focus A paper, “Upon Photography in an Artistic View,” was presented at the group’s first meeting by Sir William  Newton (1787–1869) and published in the  Journal of the Photographic Society. It touched off a tempest that has never completely settled.25  Newton, a miniaturist painter who took up photography, advised photographers making photographs intended as studies for painting to put their subject “a little out of focus, thereby giving a greater breadth of effect, and consequently more  suggestive  of the true character of nature.” He also advocated the process of altering the negative “by a chemical or other process” to achieve a “picturesque effect,” emphasizing areas of light and shade while downplaying detail, or to make up for defects that occurred in the process. Newton did say that, “When photography is applied to buildings for  architectural  purposes, then every effort should be exerted to get all the detail as sharp and clean as possible.” However, his interest lay in how photography could best serve the painter by “applying photography as an assistant to the Fine Arts,” not in how it might function as an independent art. Newton’s paper set the terms of the ongoing debate between those who believe that photography’s heart lies in its ability to provide “exactitude of delineation which completely sets at nought the exertions of  manual  ingenuity,” and those who believe that artistic effect takes precedence over precision. Newton’s statements became distorted as they were repeated, much like the game of Telephone, which illustrates how quickly a message can be altered even when passed from person to person in a short time. Over time people allied “artistic”

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photographs with unsharp photographs, forgetting that Newton was only referring to photographs made for use by artists. At a later meeting Newton reiterated, to no effect, his belief that when making “record” photographs the focus should be as sharp as possible. Newton’s paper also opened the continuing discussion on the qualities a photograph must have to be considered art. One side claimed then as now that photography’s intrinsic quality is its ability to provide a precise representation of reality. They believe that this straightforward, objective characteristic makes photography a unique art form, and that it should be held sacred. The other side believed the entire photographic process to be a series of manipulations of reality, postulating that additional reworking is justified to introduce the imagemaker’s subjective concerns and to remove the photograph from the realm of mechanical reproduction. As the

medium grew, these questions would expand into a larger controversy as to whether photography was capable of being an independent art form.26

CALOTYPISTS IN FRANCE Thomas Sutton (1819–1875) learned the calotype process when he moved to the pastoral island of Jersey in 1850. He was so astonished by the printing improvements of the Calotype of Louis Désiré Blanquart-Evrard (1802–1872) that he had Blanquart-Evrard print his album,  Souvenir de Jersey  (1854), and embarked on a series of experiments to equal Blanquart-Evrard’s methods. Sutton actively promoted the calotype by writing books, including  A Handbook to Photography on

THOMAS SUT TON. Harbor scene, 1855. 7 3⁄8 × 9 7⁄8 inches. Salted paper print from waxed paper negative. COURTESY  The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.

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louis désiré blanquart-evrard: calotype production

Paper  (1855); running a Photographic Institute in Jersey where lessons and photographic outfits were available; and publishing a journal,  Photographic Notes  (1856–1867), to express his ideas on calotype aesthetics. Sutton considered the prints of Blanquart-Evrard superior to other calotypes and comparable to any “chaste works of art.”27  Sutton recalled how Blanquart-Evrard’s prints first visually affected him:

One of the most accomplished calotypists was Louis-Désiré Blanquart-Evrard, who in 1847 discovered that soaking the paper in the emulsion, rather than brushing it on, made the paper more sensitive, eliminated streaking, and produced a longer and more continuous tonal scale. This generated more radiant highlights and greater detail in the shadows, making the calotype less ephemeral and more representational. He also devised a practical method of reducing exposure time by chemically developing out the invisible (latent) image, which became the model for future negative/positive systems. In 1850, Blanquart-Evrard introduced his albumen-coated paper, whose emulsion layer was applied only after it was coated with egg white, which gave a print more detail and contrast. This solved a major public aesthetic barrier regarding the calotype’s softness (concealment of detail), for the image no longer rested in the paper’s fibers but above them, on a separate, glossy, smooth surface. The downside was that the glossy surface reduced the visual intricacy the paper fibers had provided and diminished a sense of depth, as the picture floated ever so slightly aloft from its support base. Prints made from this process are known as albumen silver prints, and they became the principal medium for photographic printing until the end of the nineteenth century, when they were superseded by gelatin silver prints. The biggest technical obstacle facing the commercial use of the calotype was the problem of fading. In England, the Photographic Society formed a Committee on Fading to investigate the issue.31  The Committee discovered that the major culprit of fading was improper fixing that left a residue of hyposulfite of soda in the paper fibers. Blanquart-Evrard’s prints, however, were so uniform in quality that they did not suffer from fading as Talbot’s did, and Blanquart-Evrard’s technical

Nobody’s printing  …  satisfied me…. I fell in love at first sight with its [Blanquart-Evrard’s] rich, deep velvety tones, to which nothing in pictorial art seems to approach, and compared with which prints upon albumenised paper seemed intolerably vulgar.28

Sutton applied the visual criterion of lithography to the calotype, favoring prints that looked like “proofs on India paper.” He did not care for the practice of using a hypo-toning bath that gave a yellow-green color, and he disliked the glossiness of albumenized paper. Sutton devised a whey-coated paper, rather than salt, utilizing a developing-out process that relied on a gold-toning bath before the fixer to achieve its visual richness and permanence.29  He had a repugnance for the deadness of prints produced from negatives in which the sky had been blacked out.30 Sutton dealt with movement in his pictures by making his views of the Jersey harbor at low tide, when the boats were securely anchored. Sutton’s drive to resolve issues of permanence and improve the calotype’s printmaking  assisted photographers in widening the artistic and technical parameters of their own practice and set photography on course to becoming a recognized fine art form and cultural influence. The calotype was widely and richly practiced in France. Without Talbot’s patent restrictions, the calotype was cheaper to make, easier to use, and provided countless positive prints, giving daguerreotypists numerous reasons to take up the process.

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improvements enticed people to use the calotype. Blanquart-Evrard opened a printing enterprise at Lille in September 1851. He devised a method of increasing the number of prints made from a single negative from three or four a day to 200 or 300, then expanded production up to 5,000 prints a day, lowering the cost of making books with tipped-in photographs. The Lille facility was an assembly-line operation, employing up to forty people in a division of labor in which procedures were individualized and carried out in special rooms. The paper was sensitized in one room and exposed in another. Each employee conducted an isolated piece of the process, without ever being involved in the creation of a unified product, demonstrating that the process could be standardized and industrialized just like the daguerreotype. His printing enterprise had an immense impact on French calotype production and spurred a number of imitators, but it was not financially successful and closed in 1856. British calotypist Thomas Sutton convinced Blanquart-Evrard to collaborate with him in Jersey (1855–1857), bringing the British and French photographic communities closer together. This endeavor too was doomed as popular taste had switched to albumen prints, which were made from glass plate negatives and eliminated the deficiencies of the paper negative. However, these early printing companies established the photographic print as a vehicle capable of providing an accurate representation in a mass communication setting. The French printing firms produced calotypes in a wide range of colors, from slate-gray, to purple-black, to a series of red tones ranging from pale rose to a dark oxblood, to an occasional yellow print. The range of colors produced by the French printing firms matched the look of lithographs and mezzotints familiar to the public, placing the calotype in an established visual system. Through their circulation, the public became acquainted with convenient, inexpensive, and practical photographic prints on paper.

Blanquart-Evrard’s Lille printing establishment continued making salted paper prints that were featured in three important archeological books: Maxime du Camp’s  Egypte, Nubie, Palestine et Syrie  (1852), J. B. Greene’s  Le Nil  (1854), and Auguste Salzmann’s  Jerusalem  (1856). Blanquart-Evrard also edited and published a series of albums, including  Mélanges photographiques  and  Galerie photographique, featuring photographs of architecture and works of art, and provided printing services for other photographers. Four important calotypists, Roger Fenton, Charles Nègre, Henri Le Secq, and  Gustave Le Gray  (1820–1884) took up photography after studying painting at Paul Delaroche’s atelier, demonstrating the active interchange of ideas among a close circle of practitioners. Like Blanquart-Evrard, Le Gray’s refinements facilitated wider interest in the calotype. Le Gray improved the waxing of calotype negatives. Unlike Talbot’s, in Le Gray’s process32 the negative was waxed before it was sensitized. His method allowed the paper to be prepared in advance, provided greater retention of detail, and reduced exposure times that permitted moving subjects like waves on the ocean to be recorded. Le Gray utilized the process for his  Forest of Fontainebleau  series in which he tackled the calotypist’s nightmare of moving foliage. Foliage movement had been such a problem that other practitioners, such as Newton, favored making images of trees when they did not have any leaves. Le Gray was able to retain the velvety, ethereal shimmer of rich foliage, permitting viewers to move into the deep space of a forest setting. The  original bronze-colored prints reflect the concerns of the Barbizon School of landscape painters, who rendered their subjects from direct observation of nature. This straightforward, anti-classical style fit with how the camera was being used in general. The attitude of academically trained painters toward the calotype was

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GUSTAVE LE GRAY. The Great Wave, Sète, 1857. 13¼ x 165 ⁄16  inches. Albumen silver print from glass negative. The theatrical combination of clouds, sunlight, and water in Le Gray’s seascapes astonished viewers and brought him international acclaim. At a time when photographic emulsions were not equally sensitive to all colors of the spectrum, most photographers found it impossible to make a proper exposure of both landscape and sky in a single plate. Le Gray solved this problem by printing two negatives on a single sheet of paper: one exposed for the sea, the other for the sky, and at times made on separate instances and/or in different locations. Le Gray’s marine pictures were considered sensational not only because of their technical achievement, but also due to their precedent setting a visually flowing sense of movement, demonstrating photography’s artistic potential. COURTESY  The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.

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summed up in Le Gray’s introduction to one of his books on photographic technique:

in both media. Nègre is a model for the artist/ photographer who used observation and reason to produce highly selected, subjective renditions of what he saw through the camera. His  The Little Ragpicker  (1851), which was regarded as being “no longer a photograph” but rather a consciously envisioned act of art,34 signaled his readiness to photographically explore genre scenes of Parisian street life featuring working people such as chimney sweeps. This marked another turn in the “who” being pictured, expanding what was important to be “saved” for the future. Imagemakers no longer had to concentrate only on subjects endowed with upper-class substance and

The artistic beauty of a photographic print consists almost always in the sacrifice of certain details, in such a manner as to produce une mise à l’effet which sometimes reaches the sublime of art.33

Charles Nègre  (1820–1880) learned the waxed-paper process from Le Gray in order to make studies for his genre paintings. Unlike most historical painters, who only saw photography as a visual dictionary, Nègre rethought the position of the photograph and by 1851 was making finished works

CHARLES NÈGRE. Chimney Sweeps Walking, 1851. 6¼ x 8¼ inches. Albumen print from a paper negative. Nègre’s Chimney Sweeps Walking, part of a series made on the Quai Bourbon in 1851, represent society’s poor underclass during the industrial revolution. Although they may have been a staged study for a painting, his choice of ordinary subjects is a forerunner of social photography even if Nègre’s purpose was one of historic recognition, as in his Missions héliographiques work. The blurry background and the vignetting, which frame the subjects, are due to the technical methods he employed to reduce his exposure time in order to capture their movement. COURTESY

The Musée Carnavalet, Paris.

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CHARLES NÈGRE. The Vampire (Henri Le Secq at Notre Dame Cathedral, Paris), 1853. 13 × 9¼ inches. Salted paper print.

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CALOTYPE AND ARCHITECTURE : MISSIONS HÉLIO GRAPHIQUES

began to represent the ordinary scenes of daily life. To satisfy this pre-snapshot impulse for instantaneous street pictures, Nègre fabricated a “fast” lens,35  that could stop most action, giving them the spontaneous quality of a snapshot. These concerns culminate in Nègre’s last major photographic commission, of the Vincennes Imperial Asylum for disabled workmen. Working inside with available light, Nègre made remarkable environmental portraits of the personnel and the patients engaged in their everyday routines. Nègre also knew how to calotype architecture so that it retained a strong physical and emotional presence. He often printed his paper negatives on salted paper, which allowed him to emphasize form and tonal mass to give a sense of pictorial depth while letting go of optical clarity.36  Commenting on his work at Chartres cathedral, Nègre said:

Photography’s arrival offered a societal tool for preserving the present, as it quickly becomes the past, and especially regarding the immobile subject of architecture. Early photographers could be thought of as would-be architects who captured the outer skin of things, while architects became connoisseurs of photography in order to document and study their works for historical and for publicity purposes. The calotype’s relative ease of use and ability to provide numerous copies played an important role in a series of architectural and archeological documentary projects of the early 1850s. In 1851, the Missions héliographiques was formed to record France’s important monuments, particularly medieval cathedrals38 which were endangered by deterioration and indifference. Five photographers, Édouard Baldus, Hippolyte Bayard, Gustave Le Gray, Henri Le Secq, and O. Mestral (a.k.a. Auguste Mestral, 1812–1884), were hired and assigned to different regions, marking the first government sponsorship of a major photographic project. The project was fraught with the problems artists face when they accept state patronage: the risk of becoming agents of national policy and compromising their own standards of purpose and quality plus having the government control of publication of the photographs. Yet, this survey would over time come to set a standard for future governmental projects and began a worldwide trend of documenting historical sites. A core group of the Missions héliographiques photographers was instrumental in forming the Société héliographique, the world’s first photography association, pre-dating London’s Photographic Society by about two years. The Société was organized in 1851 to disseminate information, professionalize the practice, provide a forum for

I have sacrificed a few details, when necessary, in favor of an imposing effect of a kind that would give a monument its real character and would also preserve the poetic charm that surrounded it.37

One of Nègre’s remarkable visions is  The Vampire  (1851), made from the balustrade above the Grande Galerie of Notre Dame. It juxtaposes monumental shapes with differentiating light and dark sectors to produce a magnetic force across the picture surface. The visual, directional thrusts come together on the platform where a man in a top hat, Nègre’s friend Henri Le Secq, stands out against the white sky. Exercising aesthetic control, Nègre opaqued the negative for emphasis and used pencil shading to accentuate highlight areas of the vampire gargoyle, the floral design on the top of the balustrade, the building below, and aerial perspective. The compressed tonal range of the salted paper print provides warmth and a strong tactile sense of the stone surfaces of the church. The space becomes self-animated, possessing a vibrant glowing quality of movement.

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HENRI LE SECQ. Wooden Staircase at Chartres, 1852. 12 13⁄16 × 9 3⁄16 inches. Salted paper print from paper negative. The Commission des Monuments Historiques was so impressed with Le Secq’s Missions héliographique of 1851, which meticulously documented the cathedrals of Rheims and Strasbourg, that they asked him to photograph Chartres Cathedral in a similar manner. Le Secq carried out this second commission in 1852, producing more than forty views of the Gothic monument and its sculptural setting. Le Secq also explored the side streets of the pilgrimage town and made this view of the sixteenth-century spiral staircase of carved oak, known as the Staircase of Queen Berthe. COURTESY  The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.

practitioners, and publish Europe’s first photographic journal,  La Lumière  (1851–1860). Such early journals, on both sides of the Atlantic, were major sources of photographic information and provided forums for readers to discuss and advertise practices and products. Henri Le Secq  (1818–1882) learned the calotype process from Gustave Le Gray and created a series of architectural investigations for the Missions project. His work revealed a new structural strategy of formal, frontal composition that concentrated

on the relationship between the building and the angle of the camera. To Le Secq, the visual order of the cathedrals and monuments corresponded to the structure imposed by the camera on the photographer. The perspective of the camera, as well as the photographer’s sense of composition, determined how best to photograph an architectural site. At each site, Le Secq typically made a general view emphasizing the organization and symmetry of the structural mass and a series of details revealing the intricacies of sculptural minutiae (he

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collected ironwork as a hobby). His images show the ordered approach of a person in control of the medium, relying on the repetition of line to form a powerful flow of upward, directional movement, representing the spiritual quality of geometry (the camera’s and the building’s). His final project, before he gave up photography in 1856, was a deft series of still lifes. Édouard Baldus  (1813–1889), a painter of portraits and religious subjects, got interested in photography in 1849 and became one of the most significant photographers of his generation, completing numerous government and private commissions between 1851 and 1859. Working for the Commission des monuments historiques, he photographed the monuments of Paris and areas south of it, including Fontainebleau, Burgundy, the Rhone Valley down to Arles, and Nîmes. He also photographed the Midi (the South of France) under a commission by the Ministry of the Interior, and executed other commissions including the architectural motifs and sculpture of the Louvre’s new facade; the building of Baron James de Rothschild’s railroad;

the flooding of the Rhone; and the new railroad line from Paris to Lyons. Baldus recognized the importance of choosing a vantage point that illuminated the three-dimensional nature of the subject. In addition to the traditional frontal views of  his contemporaries, he often favored oblique points of view. His compositions rely on balancing competing planes of pictorial space through the use of horizontal and vertical counterpoints, eliminating distractions, and concentrating the viewer’s focus within the pictorial organization of his frame. Baldus, an expert printer, regularly retouched his prints with ink and pencil. He relied on three printmaking methods to create  effect. First, he used the softness of the salted paper itself to tone down the hard-edged effects of retouching and to provide a lithographic texture. Second, he favored salted paper that was albumenized after printing to supply a surface sheen that resembled a varnished oil painting and distinguished his work from ordinary albumen silver prints. Lastly, Baldus counted on the albumenized paper to deliver unrivaled detail and tonality. Even when Baldus switched to the

ÉDOUARD BALDUS. Pont du Gard, circa 1861. 18 1⁄8 x 23 13⁄16 inches. Albumen silver print from glass negative. COURTESY  The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York

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CHARLES MARVILLE. La Porte Rouge, Notre Dame de Paris, 1852. 8¼ × 6 1⁄8 inches. Salted paper print. Recto: Mélanges photographiques, plate 46. Imprimerie Photographie de Blanquart-Evrard à Lille. View of the Cathedral of Notre Dame, Paris. A man with a mustache wearing a dark hat is standing on the steps, leaning on the handrail. COURTESY  The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles, CA.

wet-collodion glass-plate process in the mid-1850s, he used a printing style that allowed him to retain the visual character and artistic effect of the paper negative. His exquisitely sharp, open, yet poetic printing style favored full highlight detail while retaining an airy translucency in the shadows, communicating a tremendous amount of visual information. The degree of visual organization, compositional

tension, and a full, rich printing style that accented relief helped establish standards of documentary practice. Baldus continued to make new images until about 1874, after which he devoted his energies to publishing ink-on-paper photogravures of his views. Charles Marville  (1813–1879), a.k.a. Charles François Bossu, worked as an engraver, lithographer,

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and painter before taking up photography in 1850. His early landscapes and architectural photographs began to appear in Blanquart-Evrard’s folio collections in 1851. This work was done in calotypes, but sometime in the latter 1850s he switched to collodion glass-plate negatives. In 1862, Marville was named as official photographer for the city of Paris. He was commissioned in 1865 to methodically document the narrow, winding, unsanity medieval streets of old Paris and the new broad boulevards and grand public structures that Baron Georges-Eugène Haussmann was building in their place as part of Emperor Napoleon III’s modernization project (aka Haussmannization). He photographed all phases of the project: the old structures, their demolition, and the new site construction, including the installation of more than twenty thousand new gas lamps that turned Paris into the City of Light. Many of his photographs celebrate the modernization, while other views of the city’s desolate outskirts make plain the unsettling physical and social changes produced by rapid urban renewal. His balanced city compositions, often devoid of people, reveal an eye for detail. Marville’s romantic style favored chiaroscuro, allowing the separate parts of a scene to achieve autonomy from the general site. Marville set a precise criterion for the seemingly artless mapping of a metropolitan area that other photographers, such as Eugène Atget, later expanded. As a collection, Marville’s Paris photographs preserve one of the first and most striking explorations of massive urban transformation.

the brilliant, dazzling detail of the daguerreotype, and with the ideals of the American Revolution not that distant, the idea of paying a commercial licensing fee to a British member of the aristocracy was not a popular one. In 1849, the German-born William (1807–1874) and Frederick (1809–1879) Langenheim made an agreement with Talbot for the American rights to his process in hopes of promoting their Philadelphia studio, but a year later the brothers had not sold a single license and quickly turned to the projection of glass slide positives for popular entertainment. In any case, the 1850s saw the refinement of a practical method of making glass negatives with a wet-collodion process on albumen paper, bringing the calotype as well as the daguerreotype era to a close and ushering in a new system for making photographs. Nevertheless, the calotype shaped photography’s future across a multitude of disciplines.39 Technical improvements to the calotype in terms of delineation of detail, expanded tonal range, print permanence, and mass-production methods placed photography in a position to succeed as an international print medium. The printing establishments, by publishing the work of early photographers, animated the vital role that photography would carry out in the mass communication of visual information. Aesthetically, the calotype offered important new interpretive controls to assist the young medium in finding its own pictorial language. The negative/positive printmaking system gave the photograph the intense power of chiaroscuro, and the means, through retouching, to alter a camera image after exposure.40 These key conceptual steps were necessary for photography to become an independent medium rather than a machine-like handmaiden to the other arts. The molding of these characteristics by outstanding calotypists demonstrated that the camera could be an instrument of individual artistic expression and its capability to generate multiple copies gave it the potential to become a driving cultural and economic force.

THE CALOTYPE’S DEMISE AND PHOTOGRAPHY ’S FUTURE The calotype never found its place in the American imagistic consciousness, which appeared immune to its merits. Americans overwhelmingly favored

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notes 1

2

3

4

5

6

7 8 9 10 11

12 Talbot was not able to commercially establish any of

his photographic printmaking methods. By 1846 he had sharply reduced his license fee, yet even this failed to improve his market share. The following year the printing factory went out of business, so Talbot had Henneman open a portrait studio, which also failed. 13 See Elizabeth Glassman and Marilyn E. Symmes,  Cliché-Verre, Hand-Drawn, Light-Printed: A Survey of the Medium from 1839 to the Present (Detroit: Detroit Institute of Arts, 1980), 30. 14 The long exposure times, starting at about 10 seconds and often running into minutes, provide a sense of movement within time and introduced the element of chance, in which events outside the control of the camera operator affected the outcome of the picture.   The sitter is not frozen for examination, as in some daguerreotypes, but is often blurred and appears alive and fidgeting before the camera. When the figures are still, they can lose their individual identity and take on an archetypal presence. This could be due to the direct, contrasty lighting style that causes a loss of details in the shadow areas of the print, details that would reveal human attributes, such as the eyes, thereby placing further emphasis on form and shape. 15 David Octavius Hill to Mr. Bicknell ( January 17, 1848), George Eastman Museum, Rochester, NY. 16 In some instances the fading adds to the sensation of a hand-produced image. To the contemporary eye, its dapple-like effects seem impressionistic. In other prints, the now yellow/brown color gives a nostalgic sense of time past, while stains and other blemishes show the chaotic, transitory nature of existence. 17 The competition between the light and dark areas of Hill and Adamson’s compositions are strikingly similar to those of the Dutch masters such as Rembrandt. The dark, uncluttered backgrounds provoke an atmosphere of mystery that enables the face and hands to be compositionally paramount. Many of the male sitters wore white shirts and black ties, producing an internal contrast that drew the viewer’s eye first to the face and then to the hands. 18 Prose by Victorian Women: An Anthology, edited by Andrea Broomfield and Sally Mitchell (New York and London, Routledge, 1996) 147. 19 The Eastlake–Rosse letter and Talbot’s response were printed in The Times (August 13, 1852). The Eastlake– Rosse letter is reprinted in Gernsheim,  History, 180–81.

Mezzotint is an engraving method on copper or steel accomplished by burnishing or scraping away a uniformly roughened surface. This technique of reverse relief printing produces form in tonal areas rather than in line. It was widely used for color reproductions of paintings in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries and became obsolete with the introduction of photoengraving and photogravure. Beaumont Newhall, Latent Image: The Discovery of Photography  (Garden City, NY: Doubleday & Company, 1967), 84. For additional texts by, and about, Daguerre and Talbot, see Andrew E. Hershberger, ed.,  Photographic Theory: An Historical Anthology  (Boston, MA and Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell, 2014), 31–34, 38–43, 44–47, and 48–53. See H. J. P. Arnold, William Henry Fox Talbot: Pioneer of Photography and Man of Science  (London: Hutchinson Benham Ltd., 1977), 175–216. See excerpts from related theoretical writings such as Sir William John Newton’s “Upon Photography in an Artistic View, and in Its Relations to the Arts” (1853), Lady Eastlakes “Photography” (1857), and Henry Peach Robinson’s Pictorial Effect in Photography (1869), in Hershberger, ed.,  Photographic Theory, 56–58, 61–66, and 72–75 respectively. For additional theoretical readings related to the development of photographic Pictorialism, see section 2 “Invention to Pictorialism: 1839–c. 1880” and section 3 “Pictorialism to/and/vs. Modernism: c. 1880–c. 1920” in Hershberger, ed.,  Photographic Theory, 35–79 and 81–122 respectively. Talbot later produced  The Talbotype Applied to Hieroglyphics  (1846) and  Annals of the Artists of Spain (1847). Letter of March 21, 1839. Herschel Collection. The Royal Society, London. Gail Buckland, Fox Talbot and the Invention of Photography (Boston, MA: David R. Godine, 1980), 15. H. Fox Talbot,  The Pencil of Nature  (London, 1844– 1846), reprint (New York: Da Capo Press, 1969), Unp. Ibid. Under the direction of Professor Larry J. Schaaf, the Bodleian Libraries at the University of Oxford launched a searchable, online  catalogue raisonné  of the photographic works of William Henry Fox Talbot and his close circle. See: http://foxtalbot.bodleian.ox.ac.uk.

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20 Great Exhibition of the Works of Industry of All Nations,

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22 23

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1851. Reports by the Juries in Four Volumes (London: W. Clowes and Sons Printers, 1852). Such beliefs were based partially on popular, but mistaken generalizations about Darwin’s theory of evolution that saw imperialism as a manifestation of what the English writer Rudyard Kipling would describe as “the white man’s burden.” This attitude implied that the British Empire did not exist for its own economic or strategic rewards, but to civilize and bring Christianity to primitive peoples. Ibid., vol. 2, 439. For an examination of more than 500 early British photographers working with Talbot’s process see the “Biographical Dictionary” in Roger Taylor’s Impressed by Light: British Photographs from Paper Negatives, 1840– 1860 (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2007). It replaced the Calotype Society, an elite club of about a dozen English gentlemen founded in 1847, whose members adhered to the Victorian principle of amateurism, in which the educated upper class was expected to adequately perform in the arts and sciences for the sheer joy of it (part of the Anglo/American tradition of volunteering for the public good). All quotes in this section are from Sir William Newton, “Upon Photography in an Artistic View, and Its Relation to the Arts,”  Journal of the Photographic Society, vol. 1 (March 3, 1853), 6–7. Newton’s article has been reprinted in Hershberger, ed.,  Photographic Theory, 56–58. For additional readings on these questions, see the repeated sections entitled “Art/History” and “What Should Photographs Look Like?” in Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 55–66, 155–68, 201–24, 389– 406, 113–22 and 139–153 respectively. See  Journal of the Photographic Society  II, 31 ( June 21, 1855), 178–80. “Reminiscences of an Old Photographer,” Thomas Sutton, British Journal of Photography, vol. XIV, no. 382 (August 30, 1867), 414. In the developing-out process an invisible (latent) image is chemically developed to completion. Available from the 1840s on, the developing-out process was infrequently used as the contrast was hard to control and the public was not familiar with the neutral black color of the developed prints. In Talbot’s printing-out process the image was visible, which had the advantage of stopping the printing process at any time. However, the long,

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sunlight exposures limited the number of prints that could be produced per day. See Journal of the Photographic Society II, 23 (October 21, 1854), 53–54. The committee announced that the use of gelatin as a mounting substance and sulphur in the atmosphere contributed to fading. Their first findings were published in the Journal of the Photographic Society II, 36 (November 21, 1855), 251–52. For details on Le Gray’s process, see J. Towler, M. D., The Silver Sunbeam  (Hastings-on-Hudson, NY: Morgan & Morgan, 1969), 175–76. Facsimile 1864 edition with an introduction by Beaumont Newhall. Gustave Le Gray,  Photographie—Traité nouveau sur papier et sur verre (Paris: Lerebours et Secretain, 1852), 2. Francis Wey, “Album de la Société Héliographique,” La Lumière, vol. 1, no. 5 (May 18, 1851), 58. Lens speed is the measure of the maximum light-transmitting power of a lens, usually taken as the f-number of the lens’s largest aperture, such as f/1.4. Nègre’s knowledge may have resulted from the ébauche technique taught by the nineteenth-century ateliers. The ébauche method consists of a broad laying-in of the forms and masses in a final painting to aid as an underpainting to the picture, helping to suggest the effect of light and shade. Since it was generally monochromatic, its relationship in representing tonal mass could be correlated to the calotype. This type of training makes it apparent how Sir William Newton would accept a calotype that was manipulated to reduce detail and enhance a broad pictorial effect. Charles Nègre, Le Midi de la France photographié, 1854– 1855, unpublished MS, circa 1854, National Archives, Paris. Cited in James Borcoman,  Charles Nègre as Photographer (Ottawa: National Gallery of Canada, 1976), 34. See: Caroline Fuchs, “Medieval Views – The Middle Ages through the Lenses of 19th Century Photographers,” PhotoResearcher, No 20, 2013, www.eshph.org/ journal/2015/10/30/photoresearcher-no-202015/ To appreciate the diversity of early calotype images see: Marta Braun and Hope Kingsley, eds.,  Salt & Silver: Early Photography 1840–1860 (London: MACK, 2015) This shows how very early the roots of the idea of “post-visualization” (as promoted by Jerry Uelsmann starting in the 1960s) emerged in the history of photography.

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CHAPTER FOUR

Pictures on Glass: The Wet Plate Process

THE ALBUMEN PRO CESS

ever likely to be.”1 Archer coated a glass plate with iodized collodion and exposed it while it was still wet. This proved to be the recipe for success, whereas previous investigators had failed using collodion as a dry base to which iodide of silver was applied.2  The so-called collodion process provided a finely detailed negative, one that was reproducible and required less exposure time than Niépce’s method. Archer did not patent his method, but Talbot claimed that Archer’s process, wherein a latent image was imprinted on a light-sensitive surface that had to be developed-out and fixed, was an infringement on his own calotype patent. Talbot announced that he would prosecute any commercial portrait photographers who used the collodion process without his license. In December 1853, Silvester Laroche resisted an injunction issued by Talbot against his Oxford Street studio. The case went to trial and on December 20, 1854, a jury declared Laroche not guilty, freeing England at last from Talbot’s threats and patents. Since Talbot did not appeal or renew his calotype patent, and Daguerre’s English patent had expired in 1853, England’s professional photographers were now able to use any process without paying a licensing fee. The  collodion process  became known as the “wet plate process” because all the procedures had to be carried out while the plate was damp, since the ether

The 1840s saw two cornerstones of modernity, capitalism, and science, integrated with early photographic practice, as inventors searched for a low-cost, easy-to-use process that would combine the detail of the daguerreotype with the reproducibility of the calotype. Activity centered on making glass negatives, which were an ideal emulsion support base, cheaper than a silvered plate, and free from the drawbacks of the paper negative process. The main obstacle in devising an efficient glass-backed process was finding a way to keep the silver salts from dissolving or floating off the glass during processing. In 1847 Claude Félix Abel Niépce de Saint-Victor (1805–1870), a cousin of Nicéphore Niépce, discovered that albumen (egg white) provided an excellent binder for silver salts on glass plates. While this breakthrough blended the preferred attributes of the daguerreotype and the calotype, the process’s 5-minute minimum sunlight exposure time was only conducive to depicting still subjects matter such as architecture. In 1849 Frederick Scott Archer (1813–1857), who had learned the calotype process as a visual aid for his portrait bust business, turned his “attention to collodion as a substitute for paper, with the hope that by its means a surer and more delicate medium might be produced to work upon than paper was

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in the collodion rapidly evaporated. The coating procedure required speed, on-the-spot darkroom access, and the ability to follow preparation directions that read like a cookbook. Before making an exposure, it was necessary to deftly pour the collodion, a syrupy mixture of potassium iodide, alcohol, ether, and nitrated cellulose onto a clean prepared glass plate under darkroom conditions. The photographer had to tilt the plate back and forth to ensure an even coat or the pour marks would be visible in the negative, and therefore on the positive prints too. Next, the plate was dipped into a sensitizing bath of silver nitrate and then immediately placed into the camera and exposed because its sensitivity to light slowed greatly as the collodion dried. As soon as the exposure was made, the plate was developed in pyrogallic acid and fixed with cyanide or with Herschel’s sodium hyposulphite (hypo). Photographers were willing to put up with these difficulties because the collodion’s increased light sensitivity meant that small, highly detailed portraits could be made in as little as two seconds in the studio. Also, as glass plate negatives printed faster than paper negatives, prints could be produced more quickly and cheaply. Collodion’s raw materials were inexpensive and, once mastered, tended to be more constant and predictable than the paper processes. By 1855 the majority of commercial photographers had added collodion to their repertoire. Collodion ushered in a period of growth and good fortune for the budding commercial photographic community. It would eventually dethrone the daguerreotype, calotype, and albumen negative processes and reign until the introduction of the gelatin dry plate in the 1880s.

Preparing and processing a collodion wet plate. From Gaston Tissandier, A History and Handbook of Photography, edited by John Thomson, 1878.

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THE NEW TRANSPARENT LO OK

practical  albumen paper, with a smooth and glossy surface, was designed by Blanquart-Evrard in 1850. Albumen paper rapidly supplanted the matte surface of the calotype, and it remained in use until the end of the nineteenth century. According to John Towler’s The Silver Sunbeam (1864),

The introduction of the collodion process solved a series of technical problems and heralded a new aesthetic ideal as well. Photographers had been dissatisfied with “the imperfections of paper photography” and wanted a negative capable of delivering “fineness of surface transparency.”3  They desired a negative/positive process capable of rendering a consistent tonal range with ample density and detail in the highlight and shadow areas. Collodion’s transparent glass support solved these difficulties and resolved the aesthetic concerns of clarity, chiaroscuro, and resolution, signaling the demise of what D. O. Hill saw as the artistic virtues of the calotype—its rough and unequal texture that added an expressive and physical impression to the print. “Transparency” referred to a direct, clearly defined translation of reality, as a daguerreotype delivered. instead of the calotype’s allusive nature that required two separate steps (making a negative and a positive).4 Naturalism began to be the benchmark of photographic practice. Its goal was not to interpret or interact but to concretely represent the world, naturally, with previously unmatched depth of clarity, capable of preserving enormous amounts of visual information.5 The glass support of the collodion replaced the obscure shadow areas of the calotype with a clear, distinct, and unobstructed recording. The idea of naturalism would lead to a decline in retouching the negative for serious artistic effect. This indirectly supported the notion raised by some of the medium’s earliest practitioners that photography was an authorless process in which the subject imposed its presence onto a plate. Such an uncompromised  natural  image was thought to be “truer,” easier to see and understand than anything previously obtainable. A new printing paper was essential to retain the detail and sharpness of the glass negative. The first

when making albumen paper, one was supposed to use only fresh eggs and then get the white of egg, entirely freed from the germ and yolk, and beat the egg up well with a wooden spatula until it is completely converted into froth. This operation must be performed in a place as perfectly free from dust as possible; and then the albuminous mixture is covered with a clean sheet of paper and put aside to settle for a number of hours.6

Fortunately, while photographers could make their own albumen paper, the manufacture of presensitized paper meant that such supplies could be purchased already prepared. The laborious and time consuming steps in the albumen paper process included beating the mass of egg white; allowing it to froth in earthenware vats; fermenting it in tall glass jars; filtering it, beating it again, refiltering it, and salting it with chlorides; and dying it pink, mauve, or blue. Then paper, such as Rives B. F. K., was floated by hand in the mixture. Next, the paper was dried and stored for three to six months, so the albumen could completely harden, and then it was coated again and hung up to dry in the reverse direction to equalize the unevenness of the first coating. Albumen paper gave a new look and consistency to photographic printmaking, allowing for the simpler and more consistent production of editions, where the first to the last images printed from the same negative all could look alike. Such uniformity had not been possible with the calotype, where differences in the surface and texture of the paper support, and the hand-applied emulsion, produced noticeable changes when multiple prints were made. This newfound regularity diminished the distinctive

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differences of the individual print, causing it to lose its uniqueness and reducing its already tiny market value as an artistic object. Another major attribute of the albumen paper print—its replaceability— also meant that people did not have to give the photograph the respect they had once given the daguerreotype. A damaged albumen print was not considered a catastrophe, as another identical print could be made. This idea of the reproducibility of photographs was encouraged as the photograph became synonymous with other machine-produced objects of the industrial culture. Photography became commercially viable, as more of its components could be carried out by a division of labor that allowed a few skilled managers to control an operation of unskilled employees. Assembly-line production techniques and attitudes replaced those of a personally crafted object. By 1894, the Dresden Albumenizing Company’s staff of 180 opened 60,000 eggs daily for the production of double-albumenized paper.7 The calotype’s distinctive atmosphere and expressive character was replaced by the easy reproducibility of collodion negatives and albumen prints, which became the order of photographic business by the end of the 1850s. The collodion process produced a tremendous demand for albumen paper. The new paper not only provided more precise detail than a salted paper print, but it changed the surface look of the paper photograph. The albumen’s glossy surface sheen gave photo-based images a novel appearance. This glossiness was considered very modern and machine-like and was accepted as part of the new system of representation. It also further removed the photographic print from traditional printmaking, where shininess was an undesirable characteristic to be avoided. In collodion’s early days, practitioners diluted their albumen with salt water to reduce the gloss to a luster. As the wet plate’s popularity grew, photographers used undiluted albumen to reveal the abundant detail of their glass negatives, raise

the contrast level, and provide a greater luster to the print. By the 1860s double-coating of the paper with albumen became a standard practice, giving prints a truly glossy and more glass-like appearance. The base color of the paper, once the dominion of each photographer, also became standardized as commercially prepared papers in a limited range of colors achieved market domination. These new surface changes provided unmistakable evidence that the image originated from a photo-based process. Albumen prints were gold-toned to make the print more stable and to alter their intense red-brick color to a more acceptable warm purplish-brown or even a blue-black hue.

THE AMBROTYPE The rapid commercial adoption of the collodion process and the immediate invention of a series of spin-off processes—the ambrotype, the tintype, and the carte de visite—ensured collodion’s swift domination of the field. The ambrotype was a unique collodion-positive made on glass. The name “ambro-type” was devised by the Philadelphia daguerreotypist Marcus A. Root (1808–1888) in 1855, from a Greek word meaning “imperishable.” Root later wrote The Camera and the Pencil (1864), a history of photography that presented technical information about the medium and emphasized the aesthetics of the practice. Root wanted photographers to be thought of as equivalent to painters and stressed the importance of an attractive portrait studio environment and an artistic eye for the camera operators. When first shown in the United States, in December 1854, ambrotypes were called “daguerreotypes on glass” because, like daguerreotypes, they too were laterally reversed, one-of-a-kind objects that practitioners frequently hand-colored, deliberately made in the same-size formats, and put into similar cases.

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In Europe, ambrotypes were generally referred to as  amphitypes. The ambrotype lacked the highly reflective surface of a daguerreotype and appeared dull and flat in comparison, but was less expensive to produce. Frederick Archer and other calotypists discovered that the density of a collodion negative could be varied through a bleaching process. When such a bleached image was viewed by reflected light against a dark background, it appeared as a positive. This effect can be observed with any negative, even without using a bleaching process. In practice, most photographers simply underdeveloped or underexposed the glass plate to achieve the same effect. After processing, the plate was varnished on the front to protect the image surface and then lacquered with an opaque black on its backside or placed against black paper or velvet. It is often possible to identify an ambrotype because its backing has deteriorated. When the black varnish starts to crack and fracture the image can give a visual sense of separation and physical relief as well as a ghostlike translucence. Ambrotypes, like daguerreotypes, often were set in elaborately designed, molded, and hinged holders called Union Cases. Introduced in the early 1850s, Union Cases marked the beginning of thermoplastic molding in the United States and were produced in hundreds of designs featuring scenes derived from classical works of art and popular culture concerning history, nature, patriotism, and religion. Sometimes the photographer’s name and hometown were imprinted on the gold-colored interior mat or the case’s velvet “pillow” as an abbreviated form of advertising; other times, a printed card with greater detail would be secured inside the case. The case gave the ambrotype a physical weight and honorific quality typically accorded to the daguerreotype. Secured with a latch, it also maintained an element of surprise, a sense of drama as one held a jewel box-like object in one’s hands, wondering what was going to be pictured inside. As the case was opened this sense of theater became part of the viewing experience.8 Today such an encounter can

MARCUS A. ROOT. Portrait of a Girl with a Hoop and Stick for Playing “The Graces,” 1850. 4½ × 5½ inches. Daguerreotype. COURTESY  Collection of Jack and Beverly Wilgus.

be compared to that of “unboxing” videos one finds online, when there is a suspenseful pleasure regarding what that is about to visually unfold. Ambrotypes were generally used in portraiture. The posing was usually intimate, featuring tight head and shoulder shots, which worked well with the small format generally chosen. The glass surface of the ambrotype could reflect a viewer’s image into the scene, though not as intensely as the daguerreotype. A negative image could be produced by holding the ambrotype at different angles to the light, but it was still much easier to view than a daguerreotype. Unlike most American daguerreotypes, some ambrotype cases had hooks on the

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THE FERROTYPE : PICTURES ON TIN

back for wall hanging, and others had pop-up legs to allow the picture to stand upright in its frame. By the mid-1850s, the ambrotype had surpassed the daguerreotype as the most popular portrait medium. In July 1854, James Ambrose Cutting (1814– 1867) tried to profit from the American portrait business by patenting a method for sealing collodion images in their cases.9 Outraged over Cutting’s “ambrotype patent,” many independent American photographers had cause to band together for the first time, eventually forming The National Photographic Association of the United  States (1868–1880),10  “for the purpose of elevating and advancing the art of photography, and for the protection and furthering the interests of those who make their living by it” and to fight against what they considered to be an illegal patent. Cutting’s patent was reversed in 1868 for copyright infringement thanks to this organized effort and to the rising popularity of new imaging systems such as the stereograph and the carte de visite. By 1861, however, the ambrotype fell into disfavor, replaced by the printing of collodion pictures on albumen paper.11

A second collodion spin-off method was the  ferrotype, first described by French photographer Adolphe Alexandre Martin in 1853. The name ferrotype (in Latin ferrum is iron) was originally used by Robert Hunt in the mid-1840s for a paper negative process (Energiatype) that utilized an iron-compound developer. The ferrotype was an enameled black or brown-black plate that was coated with collodion and sensitized just before exposure— basically an ambrotype made on a thin piece of sheet iron instead of glass. The process was patented in February 1856 by the American scientist Hamilton L. Smith (1819–1903), who assigned the patent rights to his collaborator Peter Neff. The patent only covered how to produce what Neff advertised as melainotypes. Neff attempted to exploit the process’s commercial potential by building a tinplate factory, sending out teachers to instruct daguerreotype operators in the new method, and giving away a 53-page manual,  The Melainotype Process, Complete. Tintypes, as they were popularly known in America, were made in a variety of sizes, the most common being 2¼ × 3½ inches (the same size as the albumen on paper carte de visite), and were often hand-colored. The tintype never achieved a high level of art market influence, but it did find a niche and—perhaps due to its very low-cost materials—outlasted all the wet plate processes (a dry tintype process was introduced in 1891). Itinerant and street photographers used it until they started switching to the Polaroid process in the 1950s and 1960s. Tintypes were the visual currency of soldiers and their families of all sides during the American Civil War (1861–1865)12 because they were lightweight, durable, and cheap, with little “gem” sized tintypes, taken with a multi-lens camera, being sold in multiples for 25 cents, further democratizing the process of photographic commemoration. Many tintypists

UNKNOWN PHOTOGRAPHER (AMERICAN). Portrait of Two Seated Women, circa 1860. 2 3⁄8 x 2 7⁄8 inches. Ambrotype, ruby glass, hand colored, digitally altered to show positive and negative effect. COURTESY  The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles, CA.

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were unskilled in other photographic processes, and occupied the lowest rung on the photographic ladder. In fact, big city studio photographers considered tintypes to be low-class pictures practiced by “cheapjacks” who were only interested in making quick money, who knew nothing about photography, and whose deceitful practices diminished the profession’s reputation. Those who specialized in the process often traveled from town to town, working on the street, out of a wagon, or in a rented room, using a modified camera that doubled as a tiny darkroom and allowed all the processing to take place inside the camera. Such cameras had slotted bottoms to hold canisters of developer and fixer for processing. After fixing, the plate was given a quick rinse in a bucket of water, waved through the air to speed drying, and handed to the customer. It was considered an instant process since it could be done in about a minute. The tintype was never as popular in Europe, where it was used almost exclusively by street and seaside photographers. Like most daguerreotypes and ambrotypes, tintypes are generally unsigned works. Its practitioners are the largely forgotten and unnamed photographers we know today as “anonymous” or “unknown photographer.” The tintype’s image did not jump out at the viewer but lay flat as if it were rolled onto the tin surface. The tintype’s tonal range appeared uniform because its black backing absorbed a great deal of light, and it did not possess the mirror-like sheen of the daguerreotype or the glass depth of the ambrotype to enhance contrast. However, what the tintype lacked in aesthetic qualities it made up in social significance: the tintype’s universal affordability also spoke to the nineteenth-century American notion that societal position was not solely predetermined by one’s birth status, visually denoting the American Dream of possible, progressive upward mobility as ordinary people could inexpensively have their likeness made. Democracy not only gave the industrial classes a taste for the arts and letters, it also brought a technological spirit to the arts.

JOHN KURTZ. Sign Painter (painting sign for “J. Kurtz Photographer,” Boone County, Missouri), circa 1870. 2¾ × 3¼ inches. Tintype. COURTESY  Collection of Jack and Beverly Wilgus.

The tintype’s lower price, its practitioners’ lack of formal artistic training, and its immediacy reduced the novelty surrounding the act of having a picture or portrait made. Photographs became less serious, more spur-of-the-moment affairs. The idea of casual pictures for amusement became popular with tintypes and was further encouraged when tintypists

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introduced humorous background scenes of painted canvas with cutouts through which sitters could insert their heads. People’s “camera attitude” shifted from somber to lighthearted and less formal as they played and acted informally for the camera. This type of unpremeditated silliness and lack of decorum had seldom been previously pictured. Discounting any technical limitations due to long exposures, smiles had previously been considered inappropriate for an occasion that was seen as making a social statement about the sitter.13 The spontaneous tintype spirit of picturing the vernacular, smiles and all, was the precursor of the snapshot sensibility, which can also be observed in photobooth portraits (see Chapter 12).

were no shutters), making possible a variety of poses, controlled by the photographer, on a single plate. The intent was to take the time and expense needed to make one print and divide it into many prints, thereby reducing the cost of each unit. Numbers were the deciding factors; the more cartes people had made, the greater the photographer’s profit. Enhanced savings were also realized since retouching was not needed, as many defects were not noticeable in the small prints, and the processing procedures could still be performed by unskilled labor. Even though the carte still required posing equipment, shorter exposure times allowed more naturalistic styles to evolve, and people appeared less rigid and stern, posing as vignetted heads whose undefined edges merged into the background or in full-length images. Either way, the sitter could look directly at the camera or gaze off to one side. The backgrounds could be neutral or elaborate painted settings. Most scenes included props, such as fancy upholstered chairs, balustrades, columns, drapery, and furniture. By the late 1850s in France, collecting and exchanging such cartes de visite was immensely popular. Although millions of these portraits were produced, this uncut sheet from Disdéri’s archive is a rare illustration of the eight-in-one technique, of Second Empire posing, and of the public and private roles of the carte de visite. For his series of cartes, Prince Lobkowitz first posed surrounded by studio props in top hat and frock coat, then, in the eighth frame, against a plain backdrop in less formal attire. Nevertheless, the cartes de visite’s reception in the U.S.A. was not as welcoming as in France: Daguerreotypist Abraham Bogardus (1822–1908), who helped form the National Photographic Association of the United States, initially dismissed the carte. Bogardus recalled his first impressions of the carte as: “a little thing; a man standing by a fluted column, full length, the head about twice the size of the head of a pin. I laughed at that, little thinking I should at a day not far distant be making them at the rate of a thousand a day.”14 Public enthusiasm for the

THE CARTE DE VISITE The third spin-off from collodion was the carte de visite, or visiting card. A number of photographers claimed credit for introducing the carte de visite, however the idea was patented by  André-Adolphe-Eugène Disdéri (1819–1889) and introduced to the public in Paris in 1854. Disdéri popularized the system in which eight exposures could be made on one glass negative, printed in a single operation, and then cut and glued to visiting-card-size mounts. Nonetheless, the concept of using photographs on documents such as licenses, passports, permits, and visiting cards was proposed by Louis Dodero of Marseilles in 1851, who is also credited with inventing the format. The carte de visite, or carte, was a 2¼ × 3½-inch photograph, usually a full- or bust-length portrait, mounted on a 2½ × 4-inch paper card. A number of exposures were made with a multi-lens camera on a single collodion wet plate; these negative images were then all contact-printed together onto one sheet of albumen paper. Finally, individual exposures were cut apart and mounted on cards. The multi-lenses, referred to as  tubes, could be individually uncovered (there

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ANDRÉ-ADOLPHE-EUGÈNE DISDÉRI. Prince Lobkowitz, 1858. Uncut carte de visite, 7 7⁄8 x 9 1⁄8 inches. Albumen silver print from glass negative. COURTESY  The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. The Horace W. Goldsmith Foundation Gift, through Joyce and Robert Menschel, 1995.

carte, starting with those of presidents and generals, led U.S. photographers to include it in their repertoire. Soon, the sharing of cartes in albums became a U.S. social phenomenon too. This widespread enthrallment of carte portraits in the U.S. (the selfie of that time), was accused of causing an increase in narcissistic and superficial public taste that did not appreciate significant culture. It is estimated that the number of cartes de visite produced in the United States was between 300 and 400 million per year

during the 1860s, more than ten times the nation’s total population.15 For such a humble medium, the cartes de visite had numerous ties to contemporary politics and the ruling elite. Cartes of royalty, actors, politicians, and people in the news were widely circulated. In 1861, the Chicago & Milwaukee Railroad Co. issued identity cartes for their season-ticket holders. Abraham Lincoln credited his election to his Cooper Union speech and to his carte made

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by Mathew Brady (1822–1896). As the carte was a formula picture, people often wore clothes or held objects that revealed their status or their aspirations. After a slow start the carte became a hit in May 1859 when Napoleon III, leading his army out of Paris on a military campaign against Austria, stopped to have a publicity portrait made at Disdéri’s studio while dressed in elegant, formal attire. It proved a successful public relations tactic for both men as people flocked to have their carte made at the same place as the emperor. Disdéri became a celebrity and was appointed Court Photographer. In 1860 Disdéri redecorated his studio, the “Palace of Photography,” in the ornate Second Empire style with painted portraits of Italian scholar and polymath Giambattista della Porta, Niépce, Daguerre, and Talbot along with allegorical statues signifying Chemistry, Painting, Physics, and Sculpture. The Apotheosis of Light was painted on the ceiling. By 1861 Disdéri was reported to be the richest photographer in the world, eventually opening branch studios in London, Madrid, and Toulon. His Paris studio had a staff of 90, could make thousands of prints a day, and promised 48-hour delivery. The carte did not become chic in England until August 1860, when  John Jabez Edwin Mayall  (1813–1901), who learned daguerreotypy working in a Philadelphia gallery and returned home to become one of London’s most elegant studio photographers, published his  Royal Album, consisting of carte portraits of the royal family. Hundreds of thousands of cartes of Queen Victoria and Prince Albert were sold, leading to an explosion of celebrity photographs. Photographers courted personalities to sit for them, often paying a fee to the sitter and/or royalties based on sales. The practice of collecting and exchanging photographs and placing them in embellished, manufactured albums began with the Royal Album cartes.16 Mayall’s carte business reportedly generated more income than any other English photographer’s, with his studio turning out a half million cartes a year. Mayall also

JOHN E. MAYALL. Queen Victoria and Prince Albert, Prince Consort, 1860. 4 × 2½ inches. Albumen print pasted onto card (carte de visite) The photograph shows Prince Albert standing with his arm resting on a plinth with a curtain draped above it. The Queen stands to the left in stylish apparel. COURTESY

The Royal Collection Trust, London.

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patented the Ivorytype in 1855, a method in which a photographic image was printed on artificial ivory that had been sensitized with either albumen or collodion. This imitation effect was popular, as it played off the association of ivory as a valuable object reserved for the power elite. The royal family itself was keen on photography. Queen Victoria was said to have over one hundred photo albums, many arranged and inscribed by Prince Albert. The Queen enjoyed giving and sending photographs, including those of her appareled in fashionable outfits of the day that represented her social status. Other royals followed suit, exchanging cartes as part of their diplomatic gift-giving. The royal family not only consented to the sale of their cartes but commissioned numerous portraits, collected contemporary photographs, were patrons of The Photographic Society, and even had a darkroom installed at Windsor Castle for their private use, increasing interest in photography and giving it status and credibility. In spite of all the formulistic rituals, cartes ultimately became personal, handheld portraits made to be preserved in albums and stir memories: “This is what I look like; this is what I do; this is who I am.” Cartes de visites were also produced and circulated to promote social change. This stoic carte of Gordon or Whipped Peter, an escaped American slave, documented the extensive scarring of his back from whippings inflicted while enslaved. This carte was widely circulated by the abolitionist movement during the American Civil War. This image was also published in Harper’s Weekly, the most widely read journal of the day, to provide visual evidence of the brutal treatment enslaved people endured and inspired Blacks to enlist in the Union Army. The Emancipation Proclamation (1863) allowed freed slaves to enlist in a U.S. Colored Troops unit. Jordon joined and according to abolitionist newspaper, The Liberator (1831–1865), fought bravely as a sergeant in the Corps d’Afrique. Black soldiers and

WILLIAM D. MCPHERSON & OLIVER. Gordon (a.k.a. Whipped Peter), 1863. 4½ x 2½ inches. Albumen silver print. Original caption reads: “Overseer Artayou Carrier whipped me. I was two months in bed sore from the whipping. My master come after I was whipped; he discharged the overseer. The very words of poor Peter, taken as he sat for his picture.”

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other minorities eventually constituted about 10 percent of the Union Army and sustained a fatality rate of about 20 percent, 35 percent higher than white Union troops. Politicians and revolutionaries were not alone in wanting to be photographed in this format: stage figures, such as Maggie Mitchell, with her trademark mischievous gamine/urchin role, became cult personalities in the United States through the publicity supplied by their cartes. Besides celebrities there was a market among the educated for cartes of authors, such as Charles Dickens, Victor Hugo, and George Sand. Such cartes are the forerunners of the current high-volume celebrity culture of the rich and famous, who commodify their fame. In addition, the cartes of leaders of reform movements, including the American abolitionists Frederick Douglass, Harriet Beecher Stowe, and Sojourner Truth were in demand. Moreover, cartes catered to the armchair traveler with views of moated castles and foreign lands, to the sophisticated collector with works of art, to the believers of “Manifest Destiny”17 with barebreasted natives who could be both ogled and looked down on, and to the morose with “freaks of nature” like a person with no arms who could write with his feet. Cartes provided the realistic images the public now expected at affordable prices and furthered the picturing of more diverse and “exotic” subjects and were widely traded. The cartes were predecessors of cigarette cards issued by tobacco companies, from between 1875 and the 1940s, to promote their brands and depicted actresses, baseball players, boxers, and native American chieftains. Typically, the front of the carte had the photographer’s name imprinted below the image, and for celebrity and other public portraits, which most cartes were not, a caption and statement of copyright were added. Many of the backsides carried advertising logos that generally included the photographer’s and/or publisher’s name and address. Additional notes reminded the public that copies of the carte

UNKNOWN PHOTOGRAPHER. Sojourner Truth, 1864. 3¼ × 2¼ inches. Albumen print. Born into slavery as Isabella Baumfree (1797‒1883), abolitionist and women’s rights activist Sojourner Truth was a pacifist before the Civil War, a stance borne of her religious convictions; she hoped that freedom could be won thorough strategic reform and civil disobedience rather than violence. But after President Abraham Lincoln issued the Emancipation Proclamation on January 1, 1863, she came to believe that the war would eventually free all slaves. The inscription below the image is cryptic: “I sell the Shadow to Support the Substance.” It alludes to a phrase popular with photographers in promoting the camera’s ability to capture all things transient: “secure the shadow ’ere the substance fade.” Many historians have interpreted Truth’s use of the phrase as her way of referring to the fact that she retained the copyright of her likeness and sold the portraits at her lectures and rallies to fund her work for racial and gender equality. That is, by selling the “shadow”—meaning the photographic image itself—she supported “the Substance”: herself (Truth, literally and metaphorically) and her work for social reform. COURTESY  National Portrait Gallery, Smithsonian Institution, Washington, D.C.

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Chief Gall, Hunkpapa Sioux, from the American Indian Chiefs series (N36) for Allen & Ginter Cigarettes, 1888. 2 7⁄8 x 3¼ inches Commercial color lithograph. This cigarette card portrays Gall, Lakota Phizí, surrounded by cultural symbols as imposed by the dominant society. Gall was a battle leader of the Hunkpapa Lakota in the long war against the United States. He was also one of the commanders in the Battle of Little Bighorn (1876) and was regarded as a hero by many of his people. Printed text on verso of card reads: THE AMERICAN INDIAN/ Authentic Portraits of 50 CELEBRATED INDIAN CHIEFS. FROM THE COLLECTION IN THE DEPARTMENT OF THE INTERIOR AT WASHINGTON, D.C. One card was packed in each box of 20 Richmond Straight Cut No 1 Cigarettes. ALLEN & GINTER/ RICHMOND, VIRGINIA. Allen & Ginter later merged with four other tobacco manufacturers to form the powerful American Tobacco Company. Since 2006, a revived version of the brand has been issued by Topps for a line of baseball cards. COURTESY

The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.

could be reordered, with pronouncements such as: “Negatives preserved, Duplicates can be had at any time,” stressing the reproducibility of the carte. Some of the cartes that are fascinating as social documents were peddled as fundraisers. One carte of three small children stated that:

The copies are sold in furtherance of the National Sabbath School effort to found in Pennsylvania an Asylum for dependent Orphans of Soldiers; in memorial of our Perpetuated Union. This picture is private property, and can not be copied without wronging the Soldier’s Orphans for whom it is published.18

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Jay J. Hartman’s carte  Test Spirit Photograph  (1876) shows how words attached to a picture not only supply meaning but raise critical issues concerning accuracy (see Chapter 6, Spiritualism). Photographers strategically titled their cartes. As allegorical subjects gained popularity in the mid-1850s, many photographers titled their portraits with the names of Greek deities so that viewers could bring their formal knowledge to bear. Such practice was exclusionary, closing out the less

educated. Photographers who did not wish for this type of interchange or who wanted to be more ambiguous could leave their work untitled. Such an open-ended viewing situation made it the viewer’s responsibility to supply the title and/or meaning. As cartes were not deemed inviolable objects, the public joined in by adding inscriptions to the backside, or verso, of the cartes, anticipating the role that snapshots and postcards have often served. A carte of a dapper young man instructs: “Please

JAY H. HARTMAN. Test Spirit Photograph, 1876. 2½ × 4 inches. Carte de visite. Front and back views of Test Spirit Photograph carte de visite are simultaneously represented. COURTESY  Collection of Jack and Beverly Wilgus.

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acknowledge the receipt of this by returning one of yours. J. Crane.” A middle-aged man thought his image was worth many cartes: “Aunt Susan, you must be sure and send me some of all of you as soon as you can. Me.” Others provided factual information about the sitter: “Ma when 16.” Still others offered commentary: “The arch traitor Jeff Davis.” A woman in a long dress, holding a straw hat, wondered whether it was really possible to be known through one’s carte. On the verso she wrote: “Do you know me?” A piercing example of the reality of war can be seen in a Civil War portrait album at the George Eastman Museum that contains brief penciled comments recording each person’s name and what happened to him: “killed at …,” “wounded at …,” “lost leg,” “died of wound,” “eye shot out at …,” “lost arm.” A portrait of four soldiers in uniform, with devil-may-care looks, was inscribed: “All killed in battle.”

sixteenth-century Augsburg cabinets that were produced for well-to-do bourgeois to hold collectible items or the small cabinet canvases made by the Dutch and Flemish painters for merchants’ houses. The cabinet card format was introduced in 1862 by Marion & Co. of London with the publication of a series of 6¾ × 4½-inch landscape views by Scottish photographer George Washington Wilson (1823–1893). The format gained popularity when F. R. Window’s London studio applied it to making portraits in 1865–1866. The increased image size showed more detail and was considered more aesthetically gratifying than the smaller carte. In the United States, the carte did not yield ground until the early 1870s. However, as time passed the larger sized cabinet, which provided more detail and was easier to view, swept the portrait field and photographic suppliers began to make new card mounts and albums as the collecting mania that had faded with the carte craze began anew. Cabinet pictures were made in a method similar to the carte. The glass plate for the negative was first coated with a thin layer of albumen, which acted as a binder, and the collodion was flowed on. Next, the plate was sensitized in a silver nitrate bath. It was exposed while still moist and was immediately developed in an acetic-acid/iron-sulfate solution that also contained alcohol, silver nitrate, and nitric acid, and was fixed with potassium cyanide. The completed negative was often varnished to prevent the thin collodion film from being scratched. Prints were made on albumen paper stock that was commercially available in several surface finishes. The paper too had to be sensitized before printing by floating it, albumen side down, in a bath of silver nitrate. The paper was sometimes fumed with ammonia after being sensitized, in order to increase its speed. The negative and paper were placed in a printing frame and exposed in sunlight. Next the paper was toned with gold chloride to give it a brown appearance and was fixed in hypo, washed, and dried. The cabinet was offered in three sizes: No. 1, 5¼ × 4 inches (the

THE CABINET PHOTO GRAPH : A BIGGER PICTURE While cartes continued to be made until the early 1900s, the fad began waning about 1866, and photographers such as Edward Wilson sought for something new to reinvigorate declining sales: The adoption of a new size is what is wanted. In our experience, we have found that fashion rules in photography as well as in mantua-making and millinery, and if photographers would thrive, they must come into some of the tricks of those whose continual study it is to create fashion, and then cater to its tastes and demands.19

The answer to this dilemma came in the form of the cabinet photograph, essentially an enlarged carte designed for portrait work. The name pre-dates photography and may refer to the fifteenth- and

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most popular); No. 2, 5¾ × 4 inches; and Special, 6 × 4¼ inches. All were mounted on a 6½ × 4¼-inch card. The cabinet card created a demand for larger pictures.20  The increase in image size changed the photographic viewing experience from an intimate affair to a more public display on a mantle or wall. The bigger sizes provided photographers with more space to orchestrate, and new aesthetic possibilities could be realized as light and pose were used to reveal a sitter’s character. As the image’s size and cost increased, the public paid closer attention to what was happening within the frame. These changes in turn encouraged photographers to push the boundaries of the portrait to express each sitter’s character. The cabinet style peaked with the collecting of stage personalities in the 1880s. Its decline began at the turn of the twentieth century as folding cameras, with which people could make their own postcard-size pictures, gained popularity. By World War I the cabinet had just about vanished from the commercial scene.

(one who stings), which he shortened to “Nadard” and then to “Nadar.”22  His studio was a meeting place for Paris’s intelligentsia, and where Nadar produced portraits of his guests: among them, Charles Baudelaire, Alexandre Dumas, Gustave Flaubert, Victor Hugo, Franz Liszt, and George Sand (pen name for Amantine Lucile Aurore Dupin). Acting as an artistic director, he posed his best-known clients but relied on his staff to carry out the actual work. This arrangement was taken for granted and typifies the teamwork that went into the making of the majority of images attributed solely to most well-regarded studio photographers.23 Nadar’s innovative approach was direct and simple, making use of plain dark backgrounds and, when possible, full natural light. Later, through the aid of reflectors, screens, veils, and mirrors, he made considerable use of side lighting to model the features of the face. Possibly influenced by his friend, Adam-Salomon, who employed unusual lighting methods and poses learned from his painter associates, Nadar positioned his sitters in such a way that often hid their hands in order to emphasize facial expressions and bodies. Favoring three-quarter views, he organized his subjects around recognizable gestures and looks that revealed the character’s essence while breaking down the sense of distance between subject and photographer. Sitters were encouraged to discover their own poses with a minimal use of props. Nadar knew his sitters, and the intimacy of the portraits, and his understanding of their often familiar human fragility, record the bonds of friendship and remembrance of shared events. Although a comrade, Nadar was not necessarily reverent: he did not flatter his sitters, but often seemed on the verge of revealing one of their secrets. His restrained portraits of French novelist George Sand unobtrusively convey her dominating personality as a literary talent and nonconformist who protested the unequal treatment of women by changing her name into a man’s name, openly wearing trousers, smoking cigars, and taking lovers,

THE STUDIO TRADITION The affordability of the collodion processes led to the rapid expansion of portrait making. In 1841 there were only three portrait firms in London; in 1851 there were almost a dozen, and in 1861 more than 200.21  Skilled posing, lighting, and retouching allowed photographers to push the boundaries of portraiture, expanding the enterprise of studio photography. One of the most highly skilled studio portrait makers was Gaspard Félix Tournachon (1820– 1910), known as  Nadar. Originally an acclaimed caricaturist, becoming a photographer was a natural extension of his talent for recording a subject’s essential characteristics. His ability to create stinging parodies earned him the nickname “Tourne à dard”

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NADAR. George Sand, circa 1860. From Galerie Contemporaine, 1877. 9 1⁄8 x 7 3⁄8 inches. Woodburytype.

such as the Polish composer Frédéric Chopin, like a man would have done. The subjects in many of Nadar’s portraits seem to have been participating in the act of photography rather than just undergoing it. Spontaneity was in play, often revealing a part of the sitter’s inner psychological being. Nadar understood the wet plate’s ability to render detail, but he was not obsessed

with it. He knew how to suppress detail and sharpness, moving sitters through different levels of focus to bring out their essence. In his work, the sitter’s clothes were an important element of personality, used to build an atmosphere of class, ethnic, and social character previously unachieved in photography. These qualities, combined with his talent as a caricaturist, enabled Nadar to go after the “moral

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intelligence” of the sitter and expand the boundaries of the social portrait. In 1856, Nadar observed:

posing the fashionable in front of mirrors, to soften the light and to manufacture a luxurious glow that accented the sitter’s attire and hairstyle. Known for his exemplary taste and understanding of how to pose women, Silvy cultivated his reputation by publishing a series of cartes called  The Beauties of England, which were acclaimed for their elegance, refinement, and vivacity. He closed his studio, which employed forty people, when the carte fad fizzled. Silvy’s photographic career, lasting just over a decade, was cut short due to health problems— associated, perhaps, with the collodion process and its chemicals. Antoine Samuel Adam-Salomon (1811–1881) was a Parisian sculptor who took up photography part time in 1858. Using his knowledge of modeling clay, Adam-Salomon (a.k.a Adama) was able to bring forth the plastic, three-dimensional effects of his two-dimensional subjects. He introduced what was called  Rembrandt Lighting (chiaroscuro), the use of high side light to achieve distinct visual projection of a sitter’s face after the style of the Dutch painter. Greater facial contour enhanced the characterization of the sitter. Adam-Salomon, whose prints were known for their rich range of luxurious tones, also paid homage to painting by draping his sitters in velvet and posing them in the style of the Old Masters, as in his portrait of French critic, journalist, and novelist Alphonse Karr. Since his work venerated the traditions of painting, it was appreciated by critics who believed the adoption of classic artistic ideas was necessary to elevate photography from a means of mechanical reproduction into an art. Yet Adam-Salomon’s work was also criticized for downplaying the individual attributes of subjects in favor of making them part of a formal configuration. In 1867–1868 he became embroiled in controversy when he was accused of achieving his effects by retouching (a microscopic examination revealed that he did retouch his prints). Nevertheless, following the Paris Exposition of 1867, a reviewer for The Times  (UK) asserted

Photography is a marvelous discovery, a science that has attracted the greatest intellects, an art that excites the most astute minds—and one that can be practiced by any imbecile… Photographic theory can be taught in an hour, the basic technique in a day. But, what cannot be taught is the feeling for light… It is how light lies on the face that you as artist must capture. Nor can one be taught how to grasp the personality of the sitter. To produce an intimate likeness rather than a banal portrait, the result of mere chance, you must put yourself at once in communion with the sitter, size up his thoughts and his very character.24

Always experimenting, Nadar made the first aerial photographs in 1858, coating and developing his wet plates in a tiny darkroom in his hot-air balloon called  le Géant  (Giant). In 1861 he photographed with artificial light, using Bunsen batteries in the Paris catacombs. During the 1870–1871 Siege of Paris, which occurred concurrently with the Franco-Prussian war, Nadar was instrumental in starting an aerial postal service involving micrographic images carried by balloons and/or carrier pigeons, establishing the world’s first airmail service.25 Nevertheless, the failure of the revolutionary Commune of Paris financially ruined Nadar, and in 1871, he handed the business over to his son Paul (1856–1939), who continued on as a fashionable commercial portraitist through the turn of the twentieth century, photographing such notables as French writer Marcel Proust and many of those characterized in Proust’s monumental work  In Search of Lost Time (1913–1927). A French aristocratic and amateur photographer, Camille Silvy (1834–1910) ran a lavish London portrait studio and had a style that was the antithesis of Nadar’s. Silvy favored intricate sets of his own design, with painted backdrops creating the proper atmosphere for his upscale clients. He specialized in

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SAMUEL ADAM-SALOMON. Jean-Baptiste Alphonse Karr, from Galerie Contemporaine, ca. 1865, printed 1876‒1882. 9 5⁄16 x 7 7⁄16 inches. Woodburytype. COURTESY

J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles, CA.

Salomon’s pictures to be “matchless,” “beyond praise,” and “the finest photographic portraits in the world.”26 Adam-Salomon gave up photography in 1873 due to illness. Napoleon Sarony  (1821–1896), born in Quebec the year Napoleon Bonaparte died, opened his first New York studio in 1864. No taller than

his namesake, Sarony was referred to as “the Napoleon of Photography” because of his flamboyant and volatile approach to making portraits. A natural actor, Sarony enjoyed parading down Broadway in an astrakhan cap and a calf-skin waistcoat (hairy side out), with his pants tucked into highly polished cavalry boots.

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NAPOLEON SARONY. Oscar Wilde, 1882. 12 × 7¼ inch. Albumen silver print. COURTESY  The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. Gilman Collection, Purchase, Ann Tenenbaum

and Thomas H. Lee Gift, 2005.

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Sarony’s studio was equally jubilant. His Wunderkammer or wonder room, as it was called, took up an entire building and featured a hydraulic elevator, armor, bamboo umbrellas, chests, Chinese gods, an Egyptian mummy, Indian pottery, musical instruments, Russian sleighs, statues, stuffed birds, a maze of pictures, and a crocodile suspended from the ceiling. The forerunner of the modern museum in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, the wonder room was a place where the nobility and the wealthy kept their collections of diverse objects for the purpose of celebrating the strange and marvelous. The contents were selected solely according to the owner’s fancy and were presented unsystematically, in a way designed to astonish and amaze. Sarony was an early photographic specialist who photographed celebrities, but concentrated on theater personalities, reportedly making 40,000 portraits of members of the profession. Skilled at retouching, he used this concentration to achieve “effect” and to satisfy the vanity of his clients. As a photographer he was the equivalent of a modern-day director, cajoling, parodying, and even intimidating his sitters to elicit dramatic and expressive representations. To overcome the difficulties of 5- to 60-second exposures, Sarony used a mechanical “posing machine” that allowed a sitter to maintain a more flexible and natural position. This device enabled him to capture the emotional energy of the fictional roles of his actor clients, freeing them from conventional portrait poses. Uninterested in the mechanics of photography, Sarony worked with Benjamin Richardson, his cameraman, to whom he gave credit, to make the pictures he desired. Sarony positioned the sitter while Richardson deftly captured his vision. Richardson offered this account of Sarony’s technique:

One of the first photographers to display the copyright notice  on his card mounts,28  Sarony sued a lithography firm for copyright violation over his portrait of Oscar Wilde. He not only won the suit, but also established the legal precedent that photography could be an art.29 In 1844,  Pierre-Louis (Pierson)  (1822–1913) opened a Paris studio that specialized in handcolored daguerreotypes. In 1855 he entered into a partnership with Léopold Ernest and Louis Frédéric Mayer and began issuing their images under the joint title “Mayer et Pierson” (Pierre-Louis transforms to Pierson), becoming the leading Paris society photographers who were favored by the imperial court. Pierson is best known for the hundreds of portraits he made in collaboration with the Italian Countess da Castiglione from 1856–1895, who attained notoriety as a mistress of Emperor Napoleon III of France. Going against the studio custom of the artist guiding the sitter, the aristocrat countess actively directed the picturemaking process by choosing her costumes,  expressions, gestures, lighting, and camera angles, which Pierson expertly carried out. She also titled the works and decided whether they would be produced as a calling card, a portrait, or an exquisitely hand-painted print (done according to her directions). Some of the photographs, in which she had her head cropped out, were considered risqué for depicting her bare legs and feet. Pre-dating fashion photography, da Castiglione’s theatrical and sometimes eccentric poses, made in a variety of settings, fostered an image of a beautiful and mysterious femme fatale and were regularly illustrated in publications. Her innovatively staged images set a dynamic and imaginative criterion for the elite cult of personal beauty, fashion, self-expression, and of women managing their own images and personae, anticipating the staged self-portrait work of later artists like Claude Cahun, Cindy Sherman and the hybrid methods of Gerhard Richter and Joel-Peter Witkin (see Chapter 18).

When he photographed Jim Mace, the pugilist, on his first visit to this country, he danced around him, slapping him on the chest and in the ribs in a way which fairly astonished the champion, who enjoyed it hugely.27

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PIERRE-LOUIS PIERSON.  Countess Virginia Oldoini Verasis di Castiglione, 1861–1867, printed circa 1930. 15 11⁄16 x 11¾ inches. Gelatin silver print from glass negative. Holding an empty picture frame against her right cheek, the Countess masks her face except for the seductive gaze of her solitary eye that beckons and then entraps viewers into the artificial and glittering aristocratic world of France’s Second Empire (1852–1870), a period during which urban society embraced new fashions, inventions, and technologies. Her framed eye also becomes a symbol for rising visual primacy of photography as an expressive language and form of communication. COURTESY  The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.

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MONTAGE, RETOUCHING, AND CHANGING SCALES Since photography was still young and not yet considered an independent medium, many developments in the field stemmed from market demands. What was pictured continued to expand, as pet portraits, still lifes, and reproductions of art became more commonplace, reflecting the idea of the camera as an all-seeing gatherer of information. But photographers processed and tweaked this information to suit their expressive visions and the needs of their clients through a variety of manual processes such as montage, retouching and enlargements. The larger image area of the cabinet encouraged more photographers to try their hand at the rudimentary practice of  montage, cutting apart photographs, pasting selected pieces onto a board, and rephotographing them to form a new context and viewing experience. Like  combination printing,30  montage was devised to overcome aesthetic and technical limitations. The concept of removing a photograph from its original context and placing it into a new one has had profound effects on the viewer’s willingness to accept as “real” visual information supplied by the photograph. Montage broke the rules about representing perspective, point of view, space, and time, all as one unit, yet people were willing to accept montage as long as it remained photographically based. Although hand-coloring of images was widely practiced, photographers often balked at retouching, for it was time consuming and expensive, and many considered it fraudulent. Hence, anything that Sarony or Adam-Salomon achieved by retouching was of no value to those who believed that making revisions to the negative was blasphemous, which showed how quickly the negative achieved the status of an inviolable container of truth.31 However, the new larger-sized cabinet prints revealed characteristics many sitters did not find

ANDRÉ-ADOLPHE-EUGÈNE DISDÉRI. Les Jambes de l’opera, Mosaïque, Breveté s.d.g.d., Album of French Actors, Actresses, and Dancers, circa 1862. 17 5⁄8 × 12 7⁄8 inches. Albumen silver print. Capitalizing on the popularity of calling cards in the mid-1800s, A. A. E. Disdéri came up with the idea of pasting photographs to small cards. Cheap to produce, the carte-de-visite instantly became a popular form of portraiture during the 1850s and 1860s. Images of celebrities and performers were in demand and collectors would assemble a group of such cards in to an album. Among the dancers shown here is the notable Russian ballerina, Marie Petipa, presented as a montage that expanded photographic space and time. COURTESY

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The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles.

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flattering. Customers demanded that the camera image be softened and facial imperfections eliminated. Photographers thus began to offer sitters the option of having an idealized portrait made, marking the beginnings of image (fantasy) taking precedence over reality. As photographers became more proficient in their use of light, pose, and retouching, they could now modify human appearance and offer illusionary beings as role models, triggering new standards for looks and fashion. Problems surfaced as people disregarded that these images were constructions and began to use them as yardsticks to measure their own appearance, and came up lacking. This conflict between reality and how that reality is pictured generates the question: do photographs show how things are, or merely how they look when photographed? Before the collodion era, almost all photographic images were the size of the original camera exposure. John Draper experimented with enlarging daguerreotypes in 1840, and in 1843, Alexander Wolcott patented an enlarging device that permitted a daguerreotype to be rephotographed onto a larger plate or a piece of calotype paper. Others, including Talbot, conducted enlarging experiments, but the process was impractical and rarely done. In the early 1850s, however, photographers began to make enlargements with cameras that used reflectors and a copying lens to transmit sunlight through a glass plate negative onto a bigger piece of albumen paper. Professor David A. Woodward, who taught drawing at the Maryland Institute, patented the first practical solar enlarger in 1857. Based on the solar microscope in use since 1740, and designed to make enlargements onto a canvas that would later be painted over, the enlarger was a horizontal device that used a mirror to relay sunlight to a condenser lens the same size as the negative. This light passed through the negative to a copy lens that focused the image onto an easel where the albumen paper was placed for exposures of 45 to 60 minutes. By the mid-1860s, solar enlargers could be seen on the

roofs and in the windows of major photographic establishments, and, with improvements, they continued in use until the 1890s. In 1852 Achille Quinet of Paris designed the first vertical enlarger, which became a darkroom staple during the second half of the twentieth century. In 1858, J. F. Campbell’s take on this idea used a camera in an opening in his studio roof to make enlargements on a table below. Campbell continued to refine his device until it came to resemble our modern-day darkroom enlarger. The concept of enlarging meant that a print did not have to adhere to the original construction of the negative, but could act as raw material for the post-camera operations that defined the final image. This was a radical departure from how pictures were previously put together, and it came to shape much of later twentieth-century practice.32  Choosing a different photographic scale, Thomas Skaife’s single-lens miniature camera, the  Pistolgraph  (1858), took instantaneous “shots” by means of a spring shutter that was operated by rubber bands when its trigger was fired. (Skaife was almost arrested for “shooting” Queen Victoria with his “pistol.” The image was lost when Skaife had to open his camera to convince police he was not an assassin.) The tiny plates, 1½ inches in diameter, were “hand-enlarged,” that is, the processed negatives were projected to their chosen size, but the image was hand-traced onto a piece of paper rather than transferred by photographic means. Charles Piazzi Smyth (1819–1900), Astronomer Royal for Scotland and friend of Talbot, devised a miniature camera that made 1-inch-square negatives, which he used to make nearly instantaneous photographs of everyday scenes during a visit to Russia. They are examples of proto-street photography that records chance encounters and random incidents of everyday life within public spaces. His wife, Jessica, who was considered his partner in science, frequently sketched, painted, and photographed. In 1865, Smyth used his tiny camera to

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CHARLES PIAZZI SMY TH. Onlookers Taken Unconsciously in Novgorod, Russia, 1859. 4 x 3½ inches. Lantern slide (gelatin silver on glass). Piazzi Smyth’s small camera is an example of miniaturization, the effort to manufacture ever smaller mechanical, optical, and photographic accessories, each smaller, faster, cheaper than its predecessor. This endeavor opened pathways to previous unattainable purposes from military spying to sharing images on a smartphone. COURTESY

The Royal Society of Edinburgh, Scotland.

make photographs of the Great Pyramid’s interior with magnesium light.33 During a lecture at the Edinburgh Photographic Society in 1869, Smyth exhibited enlargements from these negatives and explained why his “poor man’s” technique was superior to that of the “London wealth” whose servants made contact prints directly from large negatives:

micro-scope … and … wanders … over the various parts of each picture … and … decides whether a positive copy should be shaped as a long, i.e. horizontal, rectangle, or as a tall, i.e. vertical, rectangle … or whether some special scientific purpose may not be better served by extracting one little subject … and making a very highly magnified picture of that one item.34

the poor man, with his little box of very little negatives brought home modestly in his waistcoat pocket … sits him down at a table, having a compound achromatic

Larger images increased the demand for more photographs, which led to more companies producing manufactured photographic goods and services,

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thus imposing standardization of the aesthetics and materials of the practice. Retouching and spotting became everyday procedures, as small defects were now noticeable. As bigger pictures were hung on walls instead of being placed in albums, photographs became more directly related to drawing and painting, which also altered the viewing distance and led to confusion as to the appropriate aesthetic criteria needed to evaluate a photograph.

attention to the topic and regrets that painting cannot render volume as persuasively as the eye can perceive it. Regardless of how well chiaroscuro and perspective are used to create the illusion of depth, they rarely overcome the obstacle of surface flatness. The invention of photography offered a practical way to create and view convincing stereo scenes. In 1832, experiments by Sir Charles Wheatstone (1802–1875) led to the discovery that the illusion of depth could be replicated by looking at two slightly different drawings of a subject side by side through a binocular device that approximated human vision. Our eyes are set about 2½ inches apart and transmit two slightly dissimilar images to the brain, which fuses them into a single image. Wheatstone’s device, which he called a stereoscope, allowed the right eye to view only the right image and the left eye only the left image. When the brain

THE STEREOSCOPE The phenomenon of stereo vision—the appearance of three-dimensionality based on  binocular vision—was observed as early as 280 B.C.E. by Euclid. In his Treatise on Painting (collected circa 1540 but not printed until 1651), Leonardo calls

ANTOINE CLAUDET. Boy with Parrot, circa 1856. 3 3⁄16 × 7 inches. Daguerreotype stereograph with hand applied color. COURTESY  The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles, CA.

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combined these separated images, a viewer got the visual sensation of 3-D. When Daguerre and Talbot announced their new methods in 1839, Wheatstone had stereographs made in both daguerreotypes and calotypes. The daguerreotypes produced reflections in the viewer, and the calotype proved too slow for portraits and did not hold up well under close inspection. Stereo pictures designed for Wheatstone’s elaborate and expensive reflecting stereoscope were sold in London during the 1840s, but they did not receive much notice. However, the process was nurtured by Sir David Brewster’s (1781–1868)  refracting stereoscope, a greatly simplified version of Wheatstone’s cumbersome design, which Brewster first exhibited in 1849. It duplicated the 2½ inch separation between the eyes by placing a pair of lenses, side by side, in a small box with a small door on the side to admit light (the center points of the two pictures were also 2½ inches apart). A slot on the bottom allowed the insertion of a mounted pair of stereoscopic pictures. The base was made of frosted glass to allow the viewing of transparencies by refracted light. During the Great Exhibition of 1851, this stereoscope captivated Queen Victoria. After a special one was made for her, 250,000 stereoscopes and millions of stereo cards were sold in London and Paris within three months. Due to this royal boost, London’s top daguerreotypists, Richard Beard, W. E. Kilburn (1818–1891), T. R. Williams (1825– 1871), Mayall, and Antoine Claudet, began hotly making stereoscopic views at the Crystal Palace site of the exhibition. The meteoric rise of stereoscopic views touched off feuds and lawsuits. Jules Duboscq, the optician who made Brewster’s device, patented the stereoscope in 1852 and seized the stereo apparatuses and images of his primary competitors until his patent was declared void in 1857. Brewster published  The Stereoscope  (1856) and followed that with a series of letters to the London  Times, in

which he challenged  Wheatstone’s claims to the discovery of the stereoscope’s principle and invention of the actual device (Brewster’s assertions were unfounded). Antoine Claudet (1797–1867), using two cameras set up side by side, was able to make successful stereo group portraits and became a devotee of the process. He patented a folding pocket stereoscope designed for daguerreotypes in 1853 and an improved viewer in 1855, one with the lenses set in adjustable tubes, as well as a giant stereoscope capable of holding one hundred stereoscopic slides for viewing. Claudet also experimented with “moving photographic figures” that linked the pre-cinematic zoetrope with the stereoscope to create three-dimensional moving pictures. The high quality of his own work set significant standards for others to follow. The brothers, Frederick (1809–1879) and William Langenheim (1807–1874), introduced the stereograph to America. In 1854 the brothers’ American Stereoscopic Company (1842–1874) began to sell stereo views (both glass transparencies and card-mounted prints) of American scenery originally recorded as hyalotypes.35 Clones of Niépce de Saint-Victor’s process that used albumen to bind a silver salt emulsion to a glass plate, hyalotypes (from the Greek hualos, meaning glass) were almost identical to John Adams Whipple’s previously patented crystalotype albumen plates. The brothers used the hyalotypes to produce magic lantern slides, making the first photographically based images designed for projection. This forerunner of the present-day PowerPoint presentation proved so profitable that by the start of the Civil War all their efforts were directed at producing glass lantern slides. By 1856 the London Stereoscopic Company, whose motto was “No home without a stereoscope,” had sold an estimated half million inexpensive stereo viewers. The ease of reproducing collodion images insured cheap paper stereo cards. Mass

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FREDERICK AND WILLIAM LANGENHEIM. Suspension Bridge from Center of R.R. Track., Niagara Falls, Summer View, 1856. 2½ × 2 3⁄8 inches. Collodion-on-glass. COURTESY

The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles, CA.

production allowed the “optical wonder of the age” to find its way into middle and upper economic level homes, and made the stereo craze photography’s biggest nineteenth-century bonanza, remaining enormously popular until about 1910. The company’s staff of photographers, under the guidance of William England (circa 1816–1896), traveled the world and compiled a stock of 100,000 views. The American physician and writer, Oliver Wendell Holmes (1809–1894), was frustrated by Brewster’s viewing device, which gave him headaches. In 1859, Holmes wrote a highly influential essay, “The Stereoscope and the Stereograph,” in which he nevertheless praised “the wonders of the stereoscope.”36 In 1861 Holmes and Joseph L. Bates designed a handheld viewer with a sliding T-bar that allowed the viewing distance to be individually adjusted. The Holmes-Bates Stereoscope made viewing paper stereo cards less strenuous, and was lighter, easier to handle, and less expensive than

any previous device. Since neither man patented the improvement, their device became the standard viewing appliance, adding to the growing popularity of stereoscopic work. Stereo pictures became a sensation because they provided affordable home entertainment. Their size was small (3½ × 7 inches) and this made them convenient to handle. The lens for the stereo camera could be of a shorter (wide angle) focal length than the lenses used in portrait work. The focal length of a lens establishes its angle of view, magnification, and the exact point at which a sharp image of a distant object will be formed. A short focal length lens offers more depth of field at any given aperture than a longer focal length lens, adding visual information to the view. It also diminishes the amount of perceptible movement, permitting live-action scenes to be recorded without ghostly blurs while delivering a still sharp image at larger apertures, thereby reducing exposure time. The shorter exposures made possible

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by the smaller size of the stereo cards freed photographers from the anchor of static subject matter, allowing  them to capture transitory moments in fuller dimensionality, as well. There was (and still is) a magical quality to the illusion. No matter how often one looked at them, a sense of wonderment remained as the two flat images merged, offering a visual sense of depth that transcended the physical size of the picture. Stereo cards made it possible to be amused, to travel, and to expand one’s knowledge without leaving home. Claudet wrote:

Many top photographers, such as Peter Henry Emerson, did not respect the stereo card. Its small images created an illusion of depth considered too close to reality to be aesthetically gratifying. Serious photographers were brought up with the notion that good picturemaking involved the successful translation of three-dimensional space to a flat surface. Many deemed stereo photography a betrayal of this tradition and its practitioners charlatans. As a consequence, some photographers took stereo views only after they had made their “real” picture, with a monocular camera, and then only to enhance their profits. Scottish photographer J. Craig Annan (1864–1946) offered this criticism:

It [the stereo card] introduces to us scenes known only from imperfect relations of travelers, it leads us before the ruins of antique architecture, illustrating the historical records of former and lost civilizations; the genius, taste and power of past ages, with which we have become familiarized as if we had visited them. By our fireside we have the advantage of examining them, without being exposed to the fatigue, privation, and risks of the daring and enterprising artists who, for our gratification and instruction, have traversed lands and seas, crossed rivers and valleys, ascended rocks and mountains with their heavy and cumbrous photographic baggage.37

The stereoscopic effect is an endeavor to imitate nature, while the object of an ordinary photograph, or drawing is only to reproduce an impression of nature. The failure of the stereoscope in its greater aim is more marked than the less ambitious but more practical endeavor to reproduce on a flat surface an impression of what we see.38

Photographers worked by visiting a locale and making stereo views of the important structures. The majority of stereo cards are direct, straightforward tracings of the world that reflect the viewer’s expectation for an informational map, rather than artistic expression. The stereo images’ small size did not require retouching, nor did they typically benefit from it as added marks could ruin the illusion by floating above the image when seen in the viewer. Generally speaking, no effort was expended to uncover the unique qualities that distinguished one town’s courthouse from the next. The way to make money was to rapidly cover a market and move on to the next one before the competition got there. Except for those views done by photographers who published their own work, most stereo cards did not credit their individual photographers. If not a strictly local view, a typical stereo card had the publisher’s name, address, name of the series, sometimes the photographer’s name, and/or a caption

Photographers courted the mass market by making pictures of scenes people wanted in the pictorial style people recognized and understood. Although the viewing experience of the stereoscope was radical, the subject matter was typically conservative and did not push the boundaries of the visually acceptable. The vast majority of stereo work recorded views or group scenes, as individual portraits did not provide a dramatic sense of visual depth. Views were especially spectacular, as they offered distinct fore-, middle-, and backgrounds that enhanced the audience-pleasing, three-dimensional effect. By augmenting 3-D views with their standard picturemaking, photographers could sell more copies of a single view. Printed text was often linked with a card to anchor the image’s content and context according to the maker’s wishes.

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printed on the front. Occasionally, the verso provided a printed list of other available views. Stereo views were mainly printed on albumenized paper; hand-coloring was most prevalent for genre scenes, especially those made in Europe. Unlike cartes, stereo cards were rarely personalized with greetings, messages, or inscriptions. The financial crash of 1873 put many photographers out of business and caused others to cease making new stereo views. Pirating other photographers’ views by rephotographing them was a common way to cut expenses, but it also lowered quality, which disrupted the stereo illusion. The 1880s saw Underwood & Underwood (1881– 1934) deploying college students door-to-door selling cards, publishing 25,000 stereographs a day by 1901. Mass production and marketing doomed the small independent operators, allowing corporate publishers to gain control over how and what was pictured. In the 1920s, by concentrating on the educational sector, Keystone View Company dominated the market, acquiring Underwood & Underwood’s stereographic stock and rights. Keystone survived the Great Depression of the 1930s, the rise of picture magazines, and the expansion of motion pictures and radio, only to succumb to color television in 1963. Inexpensive plastic View-Master 3-D viewers and their companion Stereo Reels— featuring 14 color transparencies (that provide seven separate views) in a circular paper mount that rotates through the viewer by pushing a finger operated lever—can still be found at major tourist destinations and toy stores.39

manifestation of the empiricism of the Enlightenment. In the Age of Reason, the investigational mindset depended on direct experience and/ or observation. The camera, with its seemingly neutral recording, could represent the naive, ideal, and rational. If an encyclopedia is a source where data is collected, aiming to be comprehensive, then anyone with a camera could collect evidence. The concept that one could be educated through the use of photographs, and that history (including art history) could be recorded and learned by means of photography, got a significant boost from the stereo card.40 Although stereo cards may not have been touted for their artistic effects, they did provide a plenitude of representations, and people clamored to see via stereography anything they couldn’t see for themselves. Holmes proposed creating a comprehensive stereographic library, “where all men can find the special forms they particularly desire to see as artists, or as scholars, or as mechanics, or in any other capacity,”41  which the Internet has made a reality. E. & H. T. Anthony of New York met the demand by issuing metropolitan views of Broadway, the elevated railroad, Coney Island, and the Vanderbilt mansions, as well as a series on Niagara Falls. Travel views promoted tourism, which further increased the demand for pictures. Comic, idealized, and sentimental images of domestic life, like  The Happy Homes of England  series, became common fare. Religious edification was met with  Scenes in the Life of Christ, twenty different cards portraying Christ under a giant halo, being beaten by Roman soldiers. Everyday activities—men drinking beer, families having dinner, a hometown band playing— appeared as a pre-snapshot innovation. The popularity of stereo cards, made possible by the collodion process, demonstrated that people not only wanted images of themselves and their loved ones but also of their world and everything in it. This reveals what most people considered the primary function of the typical nineteenth-century

stereo cards as a home encyclopedia As a social phenomenon, the stereo card was highly significant for it became a home encyclopedia for the eye, providing an authoritative and comprehensive reference of facts that was a consummate

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LEWIS EMORY WALKER. Abraham Lincoln, 1865. 3½ × 7 inches. Albumen silver print. This image had been attributed Mathew Brady, but was actually taken by Lewis Emory Walker, a government photographer around February 1865 and published for him by the E. & H. T. Anthony Co and later by Keystone. Supposedly, the short haircut was proposed by Lincoln’s barber to facilitate the taking of his life mask by Clark Mills. The toll of the American Civil War is apparent in his hollow sorrowful eyes. The Keystone Lincoln bio appears on verso along with their copyright.

notes

photographer: to find and record people and scenes from the flow of real-world time for future contemplation, as a photographic act of remembrance. It also affected ordinary people who developed an appetite for collecting items from the material world. This desire for visual  information, and the profits that could potentially be made by supplying it, led photographers into situations that had previously been thought unpictureable. This broadened photographic boundaries to picture previously “invisible” people and their surroundings who had not been deemed worthy of remembering.

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Frederick Scott Archer,  The Collodion Process on Glass, 2nd edition, enlarged (London: Printed for the author, 1854), 10. Archer credited Gustave Le Gray’s pamphlet of 1850 as the first published account of collodion and its possible use, but he pointed out that Le Gray never provided the details that would qualify him to call it a photographic method. Archer released the first account of his process in the March 1851 issue of The Chemist and followed it up with his self-published Manual of the Collodion Photographic Process (1851). Frederick Scott Archer, “The Use of Collodion in Photography,” The Chemist, no. 2 (March 1851), 257. The glass-inspired concept of “transparency” would later be used to define an entire theoretical (and controversial) school of thought about the nature of photography in general. See, for example, Clement

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Greenberg’s “The Camera’s Glass Eye” (1946) and especially Kendall L. Walton’s “Transparent Pictures: On the Nature of Photographic Realism” (1984) in Andrew E. Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory: An Historical Anthology (Boston, MA and Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell, 2014), 136–38 and 284–89 respectively. See also powerful critiques of this theory by Joel Snyder and Neil Walsh Allen, “Photography, Vision, and Representation” (1975), 269–75, and by Aphrodite Désirée Navab, “Re-Picturing Photography: A Language in the Making” (2001), 365–69. Such ideas would be inspirational to, and renewed by, a later group of artists known as the “New Topographics.” See William Jenkins’s “Introduction to  New Topographics” in Hershberger, ed.,  Photographic Theory: An Historical Anthology, 235–38. John Tower, The Silver Sunbeam: A Practical and Theoretical Text-book on Sun Drawing and Photographic Printing: Comprehending All the … Processes at Present Known … Third Edition, Enlarged, (New York: Joseph H. Ladd, 1864), 234. The Photogram, vol. I (1894), 159. Arguably, this also renewed a sense of photography’s relationship to theater going back to Daguerre’s massive Diorama painting performances. See Daguerre’s “Description of the Process of Painting and Effects of Light Invented by Daguerre, and Applied by Him to the Pictures of the Diorama” (1839) in Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory: An Historical Anthology, 31–34. Cutting and Isaac Rehn, his friend and business partner, both took out patents covering several photographic ideas that were not their own. Nevertheless, the U.S. Patent Office gave Cutting the legal right to sell licenses for the use of collodion photography. He hired agents in several areas of the country to sell permits ($100 per town of 5,000 people) and bring legal proceeding against photographers who were making collodion pictures without a license. In 1880 the group merged with the Photographers Association of America (later called the Professional Photographers of America). In 1862 Cutting was committed to the Worcester, MA, Insane Asylum and remained there until his death in 1867. The administrator of Cutting’s estate filed for an extension of his patent. Some of America’s most influential photographers, including Mathew Brady, Abraham Bogardus, John Carbutt, Alexander Hesler, and John Whipple, met on April 7, 1868, at the Cooper Institute

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in New York to form the National Photographic Convention for the purpose of establishing America’s first national photographic organization and to fight the ambrotype patent. American Civil War, also called War Between the States, four-year war (1861–1865) between the United States and 11 Southern states that seceded from the Union and formed the Confederate States of America in support of slavery. For a fascinating and troubling social and racial history of what it might have meant to smile for the camera in parts of the U.S. in the late 1800s and early 1900s, see Tanya Sheehan’s “Looking Pleasant, Feeling White: The Social Politics of the Photographic Smile,” in  Feeling Photography, edited by Elspeth H. Brown and Thy Phu (Durham, NC and London: Duke University Press, 2014), 127–57. The Photographic Times, vol. 14 (1884), 75. See: Clements Library Chronicles, “The Carte de Visite Phenomenon,” Sep. 23, 2015, https://clements.umich. edu/the-carte-de-visite-phenomenon/ See: The Royal album, Yale Center for British Art, https:// collections.britishart.yale.edu/catalog/orbis:13668940 Manifest Destiny, a slogan coined in 1845, is the notion that the United States is destined—by the will of God, according to its advocates —to expand its dominion and spread democracy and capitalism across the North American continent. The philosophy drove nineteenth-century U.S. territorial expansion and was exercised to justify the forced and often violent removal of Native Americans and other groups from their homes. The rapid expansion of the United States intensified the issue of slavery as new states were added to the Union, leading to the outbreak of the Civil War. This belief was not shared by all and provoked bitter dissent. Anthony’s Photographic Bulletin, vol. 15 (1884), 65. The Philadelphia Photographer, vol. 3, 311–13. New sizes featured the Promenade, 7½ × 3¾ inches; the Boudoir, 8¼ × 5 inches; the Imperial, 10 × 7 inches; and the Panel, 13 × 8 inches. Helmut Gernsheim, The Rise of Photography 1850–1880: The Age of Collodion (New York: Thames and Hudson, 1988), 23. Helmut and Alison Gernsheim,  The History of Photography, 1685–1914 (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1969), 306–7. Many of Nadar’s works were reproduced in the Galerie Contemporaine, a series of 241 tipped-in Woodburytype

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portraits by twenty-eight photographers of artistic, literary, and political figures in France, which was published in Paris between 1876 and 1894. Translated from Jean Prinet and Antoinette Dilasser, Nadar (Paris: Armand Colin, 1966), 115–16. (This was Nadar’s testimony in a lawsuit.) For an autobiographical account of his life see Felix Nadar, translated by Eduardo Cadava and Liana Theodoratou, When I Was a Photographer (Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press, 2015). Janet E. Buerger, International Museum of Photography at George Eastman House (ed.), French Daguerreotypes (Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press), 56–59. Wilson’s Photographic Magazine, vol. 34, no. 482 (February 1897), 69. Copyright protection was extended to photographs in 1865, but it took several years before most photographers started to claim copyright. “Sarony v. Burrow-Giles Lithographic Company,” Federal Reporter, vol. 17, no. 600 (1883) as quoted in Photography in Nineteenth Century America, “The Portrait Studio and the Celebrity” by Barbara McCandless (Amon Carter Museum, Fort Worth, TX and Harry Abrams, NY, 1991), 69–70. For more on combination printing, blending multiple negatives to make a single image, see excerpts from Henry Peach Robinson’s chapter on “Combination Printing” in  Pictorial Effect in Photography (1869), in Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 72–75. This long-standing, and still ongoing, question—to retouch or not to retouch, or how much to retouch, and what constitutes retouching, etc.—has generated many artist statements and theoretical manifestoes both for and against the various practices. See, for example, the fiery debates later on between photographers Robert Demachy and Frederick H. Evans, and between Ansel Adams and Frank R. Fraprie, and various other readings included under the heading “What Should Photographs Look Like?” in Hershberger, ed.,  Photographic Theory, 113–22 and 139–53. The dominance of digital, with its endless applications and filters, has muted this debate. Photographer Jerry Uelsmann would develop this way of thinking into his “Post-Visualization” philosophy (1967), in Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 232–34. See: Larry Schaaf, “Charles Piazzi Smyth’s 1865 Conquest of the Great Pyramid,” History of Photography 2, no. 3 (1979), 331–54.

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Great Pyramid in the Year 1865 (London: Henry Greenwood, 1870), 14. The Langenheim brothers made their first  Hyalotypes (lantern slides) in 1849, while A. and C. M. Ferrier of Paris began, in 1851, to produce albumen transparencies for use with Brewster’s stereo viewer. Oliver Wendell Holmes, “The Stereoscope and the Stereograph,” Atlantic Monthly, vol. 8 ( June 1859), 739. See Holmes’s essay reprinted along with articles by his critics in Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 68–71 (quotation above on p. 70). A. Claudet, “Photography in its Relations to the Fine Arts,” The Photographic Journal, vol. VI ( June 15), 1860. The Amateur Photographer, vol. 15 (1892), 328. A few contemporary makers continue to work with the traditional stereo method. A notable example was Jim Pomeroy’s (1945–1992) installation/exhibition  Stereo Views (1988) that was produced by Light Work and also shown at CEPA Gallery. The project featured a publication that included a View-Master and three custom stereo reels that provided twenty-one stereo views of his work. On these theoretical issues and others related to them, see, for example, excerpts from André Malraux’s Museum Without Walls  (1947), Allan Sekula’s “The Traffic in Photographs” (1981), and Alan Trachtenberg’s “Through a Glass, Darkly: Photography and Cultural Memory” (2008), in Hershberger, ed.,  Photographic Theory, 164–68, 296–301, and 421–24 respectively. Oliver Wendell Holmes, “The Stereoscope and the Stereograph,” Atlantic Monthly, vol. 8 ( June 1859), 728; or Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 71.

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CHAPTER FIVE

World News—Current Events: Picturing Tragedy

PHOTO GRAPHIC TRANSPARENCY: SEEING AS A WAY OF KNOWING

their atelier. However, the premise of the photograph as a container of information and a carrier of cultural values was quickly established and accepted by society at large. Working from the notion of photographic “transparency,” the job of a good wet plate photographer was to make everyperson views, that is, to give audiences the impression that the photograph was what they would have seen had they been there themselves. This working mode also demanded an impeccable technical performance, one that allowed the subject to reveal itself with the utmost clarity. Truth and accuracy were believed best served by showing the “wholeness” of a scene. This was achieved by making broad views with an abundance of visual information for the viewer to sort through and decide what was important. Typically, photographers would position themselves some distance from the subject, place the camera at eye level, and aim straight ahead.1 As a photograph’s physical form was driven by its subject matter, compositions were left  open, encouraging viewers to meander within its confines and decide what was meaningful to them. The use of close-ups of 3 feet or less, isolating a subject from its surroundings, were rare, as more information generally meant better information. It was unusual for a photographer to impose an unconventional vantage point or idiosyncratic perspective. Sometimes this distancing defeated

During the eighteenth and much of the nineteenth centuries, life was primarily rural, and local events had the greatest impact on people’s lives. As Western society became more industrialized and urbanized in the mid- to late-nineteenth century, events outside of the immediate surroundings began to have a pronounced influence on daily existence. Improvements in communications and transportation narrowed distances between peoples and reduced isolation. People were curious and wanted more information about the world outside their own communities. As seeing was equated with knowing, the more people saw, the more they could feel that they possessed knowledge of the world. The photograph was uniquely positioned to fulfill this wish, and entrepreneurs took the opportunity to try and make a profit. The photograph faced technical obstacles; the process could not stop action at that point, a true “snapshot” was still decades away, and there was no cost-effective way to immediately distribute news photographs to large audiences. And, of course, a photographer had to be on the scene to capture the event, unlike painting that allowed artists to reconstruct an event later in

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UNKNOWN PHOTOGRAPHER. Soldiers’ Photographs at United States Post Office Dead Letter Office, 1861–1865. 15¾ × 22 inches. Albumen silver prints and tintypes. An unusual grouping of soldier portraits was assembled at the U.S. Post Office’s dead letter office and displayed to see if anyone would claim them. Someone took the undeliverable cards and laid them out in a grid, attached them to a board with brass fasteners and gave each image a number. This homemade display visually raises the question of the fate of all the men pictured and indirectly references the essential maleness of war, as women are rarely seen in any Civil War imagery since they were not soldiers during this time. COURTESY  George Eastman Museum, Rochester, NY.

the possibility of obtaining important visual information. Consequently, contemporary viewers accus­tomed to seeing action close-ups often find that early nineteenth-century photographs sometimes possess a static sameness when facing images that  have  deteriorated  and lack the context of the times.2  As an authentic photographic syntax was

just evolving, photographers relied on the painter’s vocabulary3 and on picturesque lithographs to determine what was being pictured in photographs and how it was being depicted. Christianity, with its notion that art should be instructive and morally uplifting, also played a role in how photographs were made and understood in the West.

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HAPPENING NOW! Although he used a medium that was unfavorable for reportage, Carl Ferdinand Stelzner (1805–1894) made one of the first camera images of a current event with his daguerrean overview of the incinerated ruins of Hamburg, Germany, after the fire of 1842. Because the early methods could not stop  motion, photographers were forced to make pictures before, after, or surrounding an event. The action was inevitably “filled in” by later oral or textual descriptions accompanying the picture. Visual artifacts from the scene and views of the site or of the area were considered worthy subjects. Photographers involved with this type of work can be compared to police crime scene photographers, always arriving after the fact. They described what had occurred, but never captured the actual event in progress. Although today these images could hardly be considered news photographs, at the time they were regarded as dynamic, factual, and timely. This proves the extent to which the relationship between any medium and time is a socio-cultural construction as well as a technical possibility.

GEORGE N. BARNARD. Fire in the Ames Mills, Oswego, NY, 1853. 2¾ × 3¼ inches. Daguerreotype with applied color. Barnard is credited with making one of the earliest American action news pictures of a fire one block from his studio. This small sixth plate is a reduced copy of the original daguerreotype and was editioned to sell to the public. As these copy plates are “mirror images” of the original laterally reversed daguerreotype, the text on the buildings reads correctly. The precise hand-coloring, with crimson pigment of the flaming buildings, adds to the sense of fear and devastation, transforming the tragedy into a compact, illusory event. COURTESY  George Eastman Museum, Rochester, NY.

EARLY WAR COVERAGE Daguerreotypes were made of nearly every possible subject, and reportage was considered crucial to photography’s future. People wanted to see current events as reported by the camera. They believed photography to be a part of the new scientific method, assigning to it a different mechanical objectivity than other media, instead of relying on the hand of an artist and/or personal accounts. This belief helped to legitimize the role of the arts as a vehicle that would encourage the growth of knowledge and promote moral progress. At this point in time there is no record of women war photographers (see Chapter 14). However, women played vital behind

the scenes roles as activists for various causes and as nurses. War is an ancient human ritual. In the nineteenth century, its deadly effects were often felt worldwide, yet its depiction in the visual arts was often abstract and idealistic. Photography was about to change that by recording and circulating pictures of actual events that, in turn, instituted new patterns for the vital utilization of the medium. The earliest surviving images of a military campaign are from the Mexican War (1846–1848) between the United States and Mexico over the annexation of Texas. A deteriorated image, now in the Amon Carter Museum, made by

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an unidentified (Mexican?) daguerreotypist, shows General Wool and his staff posing on their horses in the town of Saltillo, Mexico, during the winter of 1846–1847. While it is not exactly a war scene by today’s standards, it was well within the expectations of visual accuracy and interest of the time. The Crimean War (1853–1856) was the first major conflict to be covered by newspaper reporters, artists, and photographers. The war was unpopular in England, and during the winter of 1854–55 William Howard Russell, a reporter for the London  Times, sent back dispatches detailing the horrifying conditions under which British soldiers lived.  Roger Fenton  (1819–1869) left England in February 1855 to photograph the war zone. Financed by Thomas Agnew, a Manchester publisher who intended to profit by selling pictures of historical interest to an upper-class market, Fenton’s expedition was made under royal patronage with assistance from the Secretary of State for War, who sought to boost public support for the campaign. These factors provide the context surrounding the type of images Fenton produced. None dealt directly with the havoc, death, or human suffering brought on by the mismanagement and lack of medical facilities reported in the press that forced the government to resign. This premise would become one of the primary mandates of government sanctioned war photography: to gain public support without raising war’s contradictions and to endorse the government’s appeal for duty and service while downplaying war’s savagery. Fenton, an experienced documentary photographer who had traveled abroad, was the ideal candidate for the Crimean assignment. In the early 1840s he had studied in Paris at the atelier of Paul Delaroche along with Gustave Le Gray, Charles Nègre, and Henri Le Secq. In 1844 he returned to England to study law and later practiced as a solicitor. As a member of the elite Calotype Club, he proposed a photographic group modeled after the Société héliographique, which led to the formation

of the Photographic Society in 1853. In 1852 he went to Russia to photograph the construction of a suspension bridge at Kiev and the architecture of Moscow and St. Petersburg. Trained as an artist, Fenton knew how to arrange compositions that invoked classical beauty and its related Victorian moralistic values. He was also connected with influential people in the government, and such upper-class affiliations and sympathies made it unlikely that Fenton would disturb the artistic or political status quo. Understanding that the basis of camera vision is subtractive composition,4 Fenton knew what to exclude, but in some instances he may have subtly subverted his backers’ interests. Fenton arrived at Balaclava on March 8, 1855, with a wagon, a driver, and a photographic assistant. The wagon, with the phrase “photographic van” painted on its sides, had been modified for darkroom work, cooking, and sleeping. Fenton’s outfit consisted of five cameras, 700 glass plates, all the necessary darkroom chemicals and paraphernalia, a tent, tools, and tinned food. By April, Fenton’s working conditions had become dreadful due to heat, dust, and flies. He reported that “When my van door is closed before the plate is prepared, perspiration is running down my face, and dropping like tears… The developing water is so hot I can hardly bear my hands in it.”5 By June, Fenton was making portraits at 4 a.m. to avoid the glare of the sun; it was so intense that by 10 a.m. Fenton’s subjects could barely open their eyes. The harshness of the light created contrast problems, which caused a loss of detail in his negatives, a major flaw in a working mode where clarity and detail were gauges of success. Fenton’s backers wanted morally instructive and uplifting pictures that would reinforce their war propaganda. Fenton thus made staged portraits of officers, generals on horseback in full regalia, the staff at headquarters, and pashas and their attendants, complaining all the while of the ordinary soldiers who pestered him to take their picture to send back home. Fenton’s

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ROGER FENTON. The Valley of the Shadow of Death, 1855. 10 7⁄8 × 13¾ inches. Salted paper print. Fenton attempted photographs under battle conditions, but the vast, horizontal desert landscape of the Crimean peninsula made his van an easy target. Fenton wrote: “The Russians fired constantly… The ground here is covered with cannon balls… I could hear by the whir and thud that the balls were coming up the ravine on each side… The 68-pounders especially almost burst the ears… The awful clangour as if hell had broken loose and legions of Lucifer were fighting in the air.”6 Here the barren and rocky landscape, littered with cannon balls (some of which Fenton and/or his associates may have re-positioned for visual impact), tells of the terror and fieriness of battle without violating the dictums of his backers or their Victorian sensibilities through absence, allegorically evoking death without showing it. COURTESY  The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles, CA.

photographs of the accessories of war, from the harbor clogged with ships to mortar batteries, established the descriptive stylistic basis for photographers of the upcoming American Civil War. Fenton never photographed a dead body. Instead, an image of a nurse seated by a man with a perfectly

wrapped, pristine head bandage implied that the dreadful hospital conditions reported in the press had been ameliorated. If seeing is believing, then Fenton’s pictures showed that getting wounded was nothing to worry about. But should it happen, a heroic nurse would dress your wound and take care

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of you. On another more basic level, however, the image was subversive: it reported that soldiers did get wounded, which would not make the war more popular back home. At the end of June, after a large Allied attack on Sevastopol failed, Fenton, suffering from cholera, returned to England, where he secured royal support to publish his prints. Although the photographs present the British military positively, they are not the usual depictions of wartime valor that people were accustomed to seeing in paintings. Fenton castigated such pictures for their “total want of likeness to reality.”7  His sense of photographic realism produced no public heroes nor were they intended to offer any critical distance from the war. They did advance an innovative photographic standard of depicting reality, one that began to debunk the romantic war fantasies promoted by painters and sketch artists. With the emergence of this new standard, photographs were now getting the nod as being the most real. Fenton’s backers did not reap financial rewards, but their idea that photographs could be propaganda was given a field trial. The underwriters had hoped  his photographs would counter the critical journalistic accounts of the war. Their strategy ultimately went untested, since the war ended before the photographs’ publication. Still, time has shown the underwriters’ aim to be an effective strategy. The idea has been refined in the twenty-first century, where images have a tremendous impact on political opinion. While today’s audience is more visually sophisticated about how images are sometimes constructed, it continues to wish to accept the photograph as a custodian of reality. James Robertson (circa 1813–1888), the British superintendent and chief engraver of the Imperial Mint at Constantinople, and Felice Beato (circa 1834–1906), his brother-in-law and photographic assistant, worked together making views in Constantinople, Athens, Malta, Cairo, and Palestine.

The pair’s Crimean War series, made with a different set of intentions and standards than Fenton’s, picks up the story where Fenton’s pictures left off. Their images continue and complete Fenton’s Crimean documentation with coverage of the ruins of Sevastopol after its capture by the Allies. Concentrating on the landscape, the work presents a vista of the aftermath of the siege. As happened to Fenton, by the time their work was exhibited and illustrated in the London press, the war was over and people had lost interest in the subject. In hindsight, it points out that the effectiveness and profitability of war images depend on immediately getting the pictures to the intended audience, for once the conflict ends most people want to forget it. At the war’s conclusion, Robertson and Beato traveled to India. There they covered the aftermath of the Indian Mutiny of 1857–1858 (a.k.a India’s First War of Independence) in which sepoys (Indian soldiers) of the British East India Company rebelled against the rulers of the British Empire. Beato, a naturalized British subject from Venice, was fascinated by the British army’s colonialist campaigns. His photographs of the capture of Fort Taku near Tientsin by the British and French fleets in 1860, at the conclusion of the Second Opium War in China, unflinchingly show battle dead. Beato also covered the fighting in the Simonaki Straits of Japan in 1862, providing early European views of this recently opened society. In 1870, he returned to China to record massacres resulting from renewed anti-foreign sentiment. His war work concluded with the British campaign of 1884–85 during the siege and eventual fall of Khartoum in the Sudan. An outsider with inside connections, Beato was twice-removed: once as a foreigner who had adopted the British outlook, and again as a witness from the occupying military force who could see things that born-insiders took for granted. His meticulous work has been criticized as being aloof, dispassionate, and even ghoulish. Although Beato at times presents the colonial view of “underdeveloped natives” as

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FELICE BEATO. Angle of North Taku Fort at which the French Entered, Tianjin, China. 1860. 8¾ × 1113⁄16 inches. Albumen silver print. Beato photographed the North Taku Fort shortly after its capture, making a sequence of eight views in order to vividly re-create the event. A British military physician, Dr. David F. Rennie, recalled in his memoir of the campaign: “I passed into the fort, and a distressing scene of carnage disclosed itself… Signor Beato was here in great excitement, characterising the group as ‘beautiful,’ and begging that it might not be interfered with until perpetuated by his photographic apparatus, which was done a few minutes afterwards.”8 COURTESY  The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles, CA.

curiosities, he was the first to photographically show the horrific, unglamorous side of war to the British public. The precise aloofness of Beato’s work reveals his underlying belief that the unmanipulated photograph possessed the power of truth. Beato’s urge to categorize, define, and label typifies the Enlightenment belief that understanding is achieved through description. From this perspective, Beato’s work

represents the quintessential nineteenth-century documentary photograph. Another under-recognized photographer and from that era was John Burke (circa 1843–1900). He travelled to Afghanistan with British forces and was the first to photograph the Second Anglo-Afghan War (1878 and 1880). Burke’s work offers a less restrained colonial view that covers a broad range of

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subjects, from landscapes to military encampments to groups of figures. He is also enigmatic. He left no diaries or records, not even a photograph of himself. His work was grouped in albums, along with those of Benjamin Simpson and other photographers, making attribution of some of his works challenging.

the outcomes of the severely wounded. To profit from an audience anticipating a quick victory, studio owner and photographer Mathew Brady quickly organized a group of field photographers to make photographs under actual wartime conditions. On July 21, 1861, three months after the start of the Civil War, Brady and his cameraman Timothy H. O’Sullivan parked their photographic wagon on a bluff overlooking the Bull Run battlefield. The expected great Union victory turned into a calamitous retreat. Brady claimed to have made views of the battle and to have lost them in the chaotic flight.11 Although his deteriorating eye-sight is often cited as the reason he made few battlefield photographs, he had generally stopped working behind te camera long before. After Bull Run, Brady rarely went to the front. Instead, he spent the war managing his New York studio and supervising twenty units of field photographers who amassed at least 7,000 negatives, the most complete coverage of a major event to date. Brady’s collection continues to capture our imagination, showing that the notion of freedom that became emblematic of the Union cause still persists in our culture in photographic exhibitions, books, and television and film portrayals of the Civil War. However, this huge endeavor financially ruined Brady. Eventually he was awarded $25,000 by the government in recognition of his unique historical undertaking. Brady continued on, making portraits in a small Washington, D.C. studio until the early 1890s. He died in the indigent ward of a New York hospital in 1896, half blind and broke, after being run over by a delivery wagon. Alexander Gardner (1821–1882), a self-taught master of the wet plate process, was in charge of Brady’s Washington studio in 1861. With war imminent, he arranged for E. & H. T. Anthony, the country’s biggest dealer in photographic goods, to print and distribute pictures of officers and soldiers with the inscription “Brady’s National Photographic Art Gallery.” The mechanism for producing

THE AMERICAN CIVIL WAR The American Civil War began on April 12, 1861. The North9 was swiftly evolving into urban, capitalistic, industrial centers that were organized around factories, mass production with a free, diverse, and skilled labor force. Northerners believed that the war would be short, and photographers expected it to generate a demand for souvenir pictures of dashing, uniformed men who would slay the dragon in an afternoon and be home for dinner that night. As it turned out, the war lasted four bloody years, saw 2.9 million men in uniform, and produced almost as many casualties—over one million, including an estimated 650,000 to 850,000 war related deaths— almost equal to that of all other American wars, from the Revolution through today, combined.10 By the war’s end, the demand for images had diminished; people were exhausted from the events and did not want any more war mementos. Nevertheless, the war gave photographers new opportunities to offer multiple points of view about the war, hone their craft, try novel methods, improve their aesthetics, link images with text, and get photographs in front of more people’s eyes than ever before. Being such an all-encompassing phenomenon, the conflict had different stakeholders. Private photography studios made portraits of soldiers. Official army photographers could make images for military purposes, propaganda as well as recording the atrocities of war. Medical photographers depicted what the battlefield did to the body in hopes of improving

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war hero pictures was thus established before the fighting even started. The Brady team documented preparations for the war around Washington, D.C., and they published their work as part of a series called  Incidents of the War  that carried the credit line, “Photograph by Brady.” These images were not considered to be news pictures due to the time lag between the taking and their publication. However, they were considered to be collectable visual references. Gardner joined General George McClellan’s staff as a civilian photographer and made his first battle pictures of the carnage at Antietam in September 1862. These first groundbreaking photographs of battle corpses of U.S. soldiers defied society’s intense anxiety about picturing actual war dead. Nobody in America had ever seen such unromantic war pictures. These inescapable records rebuked the myth of the beautiful battlefield death. Broken, bloated, distorted, and decomposing, the dead bodies offer visceral proof that war is not glorious. Whether by collusion or societal pressure, such straightforward, disturbing death scenes were suppressed, being reproduced on only about six occasions in the illustrated press.12 Oliver Wendell Holmes’s response to Gardner’s demoralizing Antietam pictures explains why:

photographic studios, was frustrating to talented portrait photographers and infuriating for field photographers who bore the dangers and hardships of the Civil War. By extensively publishing such images under his own name, Brady formed a brand association between his name and Civil War photography that endures to this day, regardless of its deception. Asserting his independence from Brady, Gardner opened his own Washington studio in 1863. The majority of Brady’s finest photographers, including  O’Sullivan, Egbert Guy Fowx, T. C. Roche, and D. B. Woodbury, went to work for Gardner, who credited the maker (of both the negative and the positive) of any picture he published. Gardner’s practice acknowledged that photographic vision was not generic and that photographers did have a personal vision. Declaring that the photographic image was worthy of an individual’s signature elevated photography’s status and declared that photographers should receive the same treatment as other visual artists.14 Gardner established a professional relationship with President Abraham Lincoln and went on to make more photographs of Lincoln than anyone else, at least thirty-eight. The decisive land battle of the war was fought at Gettysburg from July 1 to July 3, 1863. It generated 51,000 casualties—dead, wounded, captured, or missing, plus some 5,000 dead horses and mules—and decimated the Confederacy’s Army commanded by General Robert E. Lee. Gardner, O’Sullivan, and James F. Gibson arrived at the battlefield on July 5 to photograph the bodies being gathered and moved for burial. Gardner constructed the photograph, Home of the Rebel Sharpshooter, for artistic effect. He moved the body of a Confederate infantryman about 40 yards and added a Springfield musket (not a sharpshooter’s rifle) to the scene, and turned the corpse’s face toward the camera, thus forcing the viewers to gaze directly into the tragedy of a violent and premature death. Civil War photographers expanded the definition of photographic documentation. Technical

It was so nearly like visiting the battlefield to look over these views, that all the emotions excited by the actual sight of the stained and sordid scene, strewed with rags and wrecks, came back to us, and we buried them in the recesses of our cabinet as we would have buried the mutilated remains of the dead they too vividly represented. Yet war and battles should have truth for their delineator.13

When Gardner’s Antietam work was shown at Brady’s New York gallery, written about in the newspapers, and reproduced in Harper’s Weekly, it was identified as Brady’s, even though Gardner held the copyright. This custom, common in the early

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ALEXANDER GARDNER. Home of the Rebel Sharpshooter, Gettysburg, 1863 (from Gardner’s Photographic Sketch Book of the War). 6 15⁄16 x 9 1⁄16 inches. Albumen silver print. Gardner’s Sketch Book offers viewers a window into the adage that it is the winners who write history. The text with this image reported: “that his suffering must have been intense. What visions, of loved ones far away, may have hovered about his stony pillow!” The text then skips ahead four months and transmits the ultimate fate of a Rebel: “The skeleton of the soldier lay undisturbed within a mouldering uniform… None of those who went up and down the fields to bury the fallen, has found him. ‘Missing,’ was all that could have been known of him at home, and some mother may yet be patiently watching for the return of her boy, whose bones lie bleaching, unrecognized and alone, between the rocks at Gettysburg.”15 COURTESY  The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles, CA.

limitations and thick battlefield smoke necessitated a different standard of accuracy than our current norms. Photographic truthfulness was not only a question of picturing what chance placed before the camera but of depicting the experience of war in the

act of inventing a field representation. If a studio photographer’s duty was to arrange the sitter for a specific effect, and if the resulting image was considered reality, then where were the boundaries of truthfulness when a photographer went outside the

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studio and was no longer beholden to a controllable environment in unmanageable circumstances? No one questioned Gardner’s right to “set the scene” for the camera. It was accepted as an accurate over-all representation of that situation. This established a silent contract between the viewer and the photographer, giving the photographer license to adjust a situation to deliver a truer, more complete sense of a subject—something artists in other media, not just visual, had been doing all along. The “liberties” Gardner took reflected the upheavals within American society over truth and righteousness. President Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address, in just 272 words, remade America by expanding the notion of equality stated in the U.S. Constitution. His speech in 1863—“That this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom—and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth”—not only changed the direction of the Union cause, but altered the nation’s political future by calling into question previously unchallenged concepts pertaining to race and individual freedom. After 1863, Gardner rarely went into the field, acting instead as a producer for other photographers covering the war. At the conclusion of the war Gardner wrote, produced, and published a significant photographic chronicle of the conflict,  Gardner’s Photographic Sketch Book of the War  (1866). Gardner’s title, “sketch book,” implies an artist’s spontaneous reaction to selected subjects, not an exhaustive visual record. The book presents 100 pictures (from about 3,000 made by Gardner and his colleagues) together with interpretive text designed to provide a Northern, moralistic overview, characteristic of the entire conflict, that speaks of the cataclysmic repercussions of taking on an allegiance to an immoral crusade. It is the first extensive, thematic photo essay, offering an astute, emotional view of the war, with the battle of Gettysburg as its nucleus. It was an expensive and limited edition publication (200 copies at $150 each) containing

ALEXANDER GARDNER. Portrait of Abraham Lincoln, 1863. 9½ x 73⁄5 inches. Albumen print. In 1863, two weeks before President Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address, artist and sculptor Sarah Fisher Ames commissioned Gardner to make this close-up portrait of Lincoln so she could work from it to create a bust of Lincoln. This Gardner portrait is known for simultaneously conveying two distinct aspects of his personality: the hopeful and the pessimistic. This can be seen by taking a vertical strip of paper and covering first one side of the face, then the other. Most people’s faces are not symmetrical. However, Gardner’s portrait makes Lincoln’s asymmetrical appearance self-evident. This has led some to speculate Lincoln may have suffered from Marfan Syndrome while others attribute it to him being kicked in the head by a horse as a pre-adolescent. Another explanation is it was due to his Civil War fatigue and weariness. Regardless, Gardner’s portrait engages the imagination and makes one think, the hallmark of a powerful picture. COURTESY

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actual albumen prints, intended for sale to an elite audience. The arrangement of the images and text reflected the feeling of many in the North. The blockade of Southern ports and the Confederacy’s general economic straits greatly restricted the number of photographs made from the Southern perspective, giving the Union the historic advantage of having most of the surviving Civil War images represent a Northern point of view. Gardner interprets and manipulates the viewer’s response through the language he uses to describe the Confederate soldiers: “devilish,” “distorted dead,” “buried unknown by strangers, in a strange land,” and “they paid with life the price of their treason.” In contrast, Gardner describes the Union dead in honorific, biblical terms, as having “passed away in the act of prayer,” with “a smile on their faces,” “having friendly hands …  prepared them for burial,” and “appealing to heaven.” The Sketch Book demonstrates that photography has never been impartial and that the history it presents is in part a construct of the photographer’s imagination.16  As much an ethical literary allegory as it is historical documentation, Gardner’s  Sketch Book  relies on image sequencing and text to elucidate and supply meaning to his Civil War photographs. One of the last images in the Sketch Book is John Reekie’s (1829–1885) A Burial Party, Cold Harbor, VA, 1865, which pictures a group of freed slaves performing the grisly job of gathering up the remains of Union troops. Reekie’s focus is on the foreground, where a man sits next to a hospital litter that bears five skulls and a leg with a boot on top of a disgusting mix of decaying battle-ruined clothes and, ironically, a canteen. The Sketch Book text reminds readers about the moral failings of the entire rebel cause by pointing out how they neglected to bury their own dead soldiers. “It speaks ill of the residents of that part of Virginia, that they allowed even the remains of those they considered enemies, to decay unnoticed where they fell.”17 Yet, the postwar public

did not have the stomach for such legend-breaking images and, until recently, this picture was not widely reproduced. In spite of its social importance, American painters rarely dealt with the Civil War. Photographic work like the Sketch Book broke down such notions by providing a ringside view of a fratricidal horror show.18 Gardner also made portraits of President Lincoln and prison studies of Lincoln’s assassination conspirators (The Lincoln Conspiracy Album, 1865). For their executions, Gardner set his camera on a roof overlooking the gallows and made a series of seven exposures. This sequence is considered the first photographic picture story of an event that unfolds over several minutes of actual time. It took on the dual photographic role of picturing the news and acting as a document. It also provides evidence of the vital function sequential photographs would perform in future news reporting. Gardner went on to photograph the Union Pacific Railroad, the Great Plains Indians and the Native American Delegates to Congress, and a rogues’ gallery for the Washington, D.C., police before contracting tuberculosis and dying in 1882. Timothy H. O’Sullivan (1840–1882) worked at Brady’s Washington studio under Gardner’s supervision before joining Gardner’s staff in 1862. Civil War photographs, powerful as they may be, often have a sense of sameness about them. Their level, straight-on, maximum depth-of-field view, made at a discreet distance from the subject, discourages us from thinking of a photographer as having personal impressions that direct our concentration to specific facets of a site. In the aftermath of Antietam and Gettysburg, O’Sullivan began breaking away from this precedent by incorporating intrinsically photographic forms, like selective focus, into compositions to elicit powerful visceral responses. Gardner recognized O’Sullivan as a sophisticated picturemaker and his  Sketch Book  used forty-four of the photographer’s images, nearly half the book’s total.

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JOHN REEKIE. A Burial Party, Cold Harbor, VA, 1865 (from Gardner’s Photographic Sketch Book of the War). 613⁄16 × 8¾ inches. Albumen silver print. COURTESY  The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles, CA.

In one such image, A Harvest of Death, O’Sullivan presents a sharply focused middle ground of bloated bodies while the foreground and background are explicitly out of focus. This uncommon practice has the macabre effect of centralizing our attention on a corpse whose mouth is open in an apparent deathscream. The visual rhythm of the arched corpses produces a sense of trepidation that visually echoes into the surrounding landscape. The highly expressionistic selective focus actively manipulates our concentration to re-experience O’Sullivan’s

sense of amazement, horror, and motionlessness. Such methods encourage the audience to fasten onto subjective sensations rather than concentrating on analytical facts. O’Sullivan executed the same selective focus technique in  Field Where General Reynolds Fell, in which the swollen corpses are not only the subject of the composition but are the only objects in critical focus. This view and the title, with echoes from history paintings, inform us that the field where Reynolds was killed is significant and worthy of

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TIMOTHY H. O’SULLIVAN. A Harvest of Death, Gettysburg, PA, 1863 (from Gardner’s Photographic Sketch Book of the War). 7 × 811⁄16 inches. Albumen silver print. The Sketch Book removes the veneer of war pageantry and matter-of-factly reports: “The rebels represented in the photograph are without shoes. These were always removed from the feet of the dead on account of the pressing need of the survivors. The pockets turned inside out also show that appropriation did not cease with the coverings of the feet. Around is scattered the litter of the battlefield, accouterments, ammunitions, rags, cups and canteens, crackers, haversacks, and letters that may tell the name of the owner, although the majority will surely be buried unknown by strangers, and in a strange land … they paid with life the price of their treason, and when the wicked strife was finished, found nameless graves, far from home kindred.”19 COURTESY  The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles, CA.

depiction. In terms of social status it is noteworthy that, unlike in a typical history painting, General Reynolds’s body is nowhere to be seen, as he was no doubt given a prompt and proper burial. As for the five ballooning bodies so sharply pictured in the frame, they are the classic unknown soldiers. The image questions the notion of the romantic last hurrah by showing us the anonymous, undignified deaths of the everyday soldiers, buried where they fell with their stories untold.

George N. Barnard  (1819–1902) became a Union army photographer during 1864 in a division commanded by General William Tecumseh Sherman and recorded the destruction of Atlanta by federal troops during Sherman’s infamous “March to the Sea,” which was intended to frighten Georgia’s civilian population into abandoning the Confederate cause. After the soldiers left the battle sites, Barnard often returned to the empty fields to record their sense of tranquility that, paradoxically,

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evoked the tempestuous nature of the fray. The ferociousness of battle is vicariously experienced in  The Hell Hole, New Hope Church, GA (1865), picturing trees that were shot down during combat. The tormented landscape replaces the mutilated soldiers’ bodies, expressing the social rupture of war. The credit line ironically reads: “Photograph from nature by G. N. Barnard.” This sense of calm after the passing tempest can also be seen in Ruins in Charleston, SC (ca. 1865), as two men, one with a pipe, sit contemplating the devastating, yet hauntingly beautiful rubble that was once the city. Aesthetically, Barnard relied on symbolic devices and pictorial effect to elicit an emotional impact. In  Scene of General McPherson’s Death, a horse’s skull, human bones, and pieces of explosive shot were arranged, depicting death in a more allegorical manner than O’Sullivan’s  Field Where General Reynolds Fell. Barnard’s use of combination printing—making separate cloud negatives and printing them into the sky portion of the original landscape—indicates that his photographs were not meant to be read as war news, but as personal, artistic statements about the war. In  Rebel Works in Front of Atlanta, the clouds are heavily printed into a depopulated view. They blend into the tops of the moving trees (blurred due to the long exposure time) and give the impression that their celestial forms dare not get any closer or risk being punctured by the rows of  chevaux-de-frise  (logs with fixed sharpened wooden stakes) that form the trench lines and palisades of hell. Andrew Joseph Russell  (1830–1902) was a painter and Union captain who paid civilian photographer Egbert Guy Fowx to teach him the collodion wet plate process. He went on to become the only military officer to photograph for the War Department during the Civil War. Russell was assigned to document the work of Herman Haupt, an innovative civil engineer known for his experiments in transporting troops and for the construction, repair, and destruction of railroads

and bridges. Russell was an experienced artist who emphasized pictorial qualities even when making instructive pictures.20  As Russell’s audience only encompassed the officers of the Corps of Engineers, he had no commercial restraints, and he was able to make stereo views from unusually low angles, and some battlefield photographs featured atypical close-ups of dead soldier’s faces. The number of Civil War casualties created an unparalleled demand for medical care in an era when diseases were little understood and surgical procedures primitive. To increase medical effectiveness the Surgeon General established the Army Medical Museum in 1862 to analyze military medicine. Photography played a new role, as the Museum established its own photographic department headed by William Bell (1830–1910). The editor of the Philadelphia Photographer gave this account of Bell’s activities: [T]he principal work of the photographer is to photograph shattered bones, broken skulls, and living subjects, before and after surgical operations have been performed on them… We saw a picture of one poor fellow as he came from the field, with his face almost torn asunder by a shell. After surgery had exercised its skill upon him, he was again photographed, and looked much better than any one could be expected to look with his lower jaw gone.21

The Museum’s photographers rephotographed patients, whose conditions were being monitored, in one of the first such projects. These images are different than the war views. They are often close-up, extremely deadpan examinations of broken bodies against a neutral background. The pictures document injuries with cool detachment and label them with professional medical jargon, implying a primary viewing audience of other professionals. Such a combination nevertheless seems to separate cause and effect, removing the ruined bodies from their warfare context. When we look at these

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ANDREW J. RUSSELL. Scene of Battle, Fredericksburg, VA [Caissons and horses destroyed by federal shells], May 3, 1863. 9 7⁄8 x 12 7⁄8 inches. Albumen silver print. Russell photographed wrecked and overturned Confederate gun caissons or ammunition transports. The massacred corpses of the horses that had pulled the caissons lie strewn across the now impassable road. Herman Haupt, Chief of the Bureau of Military Railways and employer of photographer Andrew Russell, leans against a stump, surveying the destruction caused by a single shell. COURTESY  The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles, CA.

grim pictures, there is no explicit correlation made between the shattered men and the war that caused their condition. This distancing effect reinforces the fact that the bodies are no longer sites of beauty, fashion, joy, or pleasure, but of disfigurement, ugliness, suffering, and pain.

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WILLIAM H. BELL. Gunshot Fracture of the Shaft of the Right Femur, United with Great Shortening and Deformity, 1865. 8 9⁄16 x 6 15⁄16 inches. Albumen silver print. William H. Bell, who became official photographer of the Army Medical Museum, documented the effects rather than the events of the war, as well as their healing techniques. COURTESY  The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles, CA.

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HOW PHOTO GRAPHS WERE CIRCULATED Carte de visite portraits of individual soldiers were much in demand and constituted the bulk of photographic work during the war years. These inexpensive cards were not intended as artistic portraits, but as impartial likenesses, faithful reproductions of the features of the soldiers going off to war. War scene cartes, sold by subscription and collected in albums, established a precedent for marketing future disasters, from the Johnstown flood of 1889 to the San Francisco earthquake and fire of 1906. By the war’s end, the popularity of these paper prints had finished the ambrotype, which was too fragile to be sent through the mail. The mailing of cartes was so common in many areas that the federal government imposed a tax stamp, requiring a two-cent stamp for card-size photographs sent through the mail, between September 1, 1864, and August 1, 1866.22 The majority of field views were made with stereographic cameras, as they were lighter than view cameras and used smaller plates, which were easier to prepare. Thus, they allowed operators to work more quickly and prolifically. The first actual combat photographs were stereoviews taken in Fort Sumter by Southern photographer George S. Cook.23 The selling of Civil War stereo cards was a big business fraught with unauthorized copying.24  By the war’s end, Edward Anthony’s catalog listed more than 1,400 stereo views selling at $4.50 a dozen. Along with ambrotypes, tintypes, and photographically derived wood engravings in popular magazines, such as  Harper’s Weekly  and  Leslie’s Illustrated, the endless,  inexpensive supply of paper prints made the Civil War the first conflict to be brought directly into people’s parlors, oftentimes in 3D. What do these records of wartime experiences add up to? Did the photographers believe that their war pictures might reduce the chance of its recurrence? There is not much photographic evidence that they had such feelings. A line of text that accompanies

WILLIAM H. LEESON. Sergeant Major William L. Henderson and Hospital Steward Thomas H.S. Pennington of 20th U.S. Colored Troops (USCT) Infantry Regiment in uniform, circa 1864—1865. 2 2⁄5 x 4 3⁄10 inches. Albumen print on card mount. United States Colored Troops (USCT) embodied Frederick Douglass’s belief that “he who would be free must himself strike the blow.” 179,000 men, many who were former slaves, volunteered to fight in the Union army; nearly 37,000 gave their lives in the Civil War. The verso of this carte de visite includes the hand written names of the soldiers. Printed is: “Leeson’s Photographic Gallery, 167 Poydras St., New Orleans. Additional Copies can be had if required.” Plus, a hand-cancelled, 2¢ U.S. Internal Revenue Bank Check stamp featuring a portrait of George Washington. In 1864, facing the financial demands of the Civil War, Congress placed a new luxury tax on “photographs, ambrotypes, daguerreotypes or any other sun-pictures.” Photographers were required to affix a properly denominated revenue stamp on the back of the image and cancel it by initialing and dating it in pen. COURTESY

Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division, Washington, D.C.

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UNKNOWN PHOTOGRAPHER. African-American Teamsters [Contrabands] near the Signal Tower, Bermuda Hundred, Virginia, 1864. 33⁄8 × 4½ inches. Albumen silver stereo card (one side). In conjunction with their text, stereo views provide a contextual window for understanding prevailing social attitudes. Northern racial stereotypes are on plain view in Contraband … as seven Black men, all wearing hats and tattered clothes, are pictured standing in front of a shanty. The text reads: “The negroes who ran away from slavery and came into the union lines, were employed by the government as teamsters, laborers, tea, & c. They were happy, good-natured fellows, and made lots of fun for the soldiers.” COURTESY  Library of Congress, Washington, D.C.

O’Sullivan’s A Harvest of Death in Gardner’s Sketch Book is an exception. It reads: “Here are the dreadful details! Let them aid in preventing such another calamity falling upon the nation.”25 In general, photographers seem to have accepted war as part of life. The war photographs are not so much authentication of history as they are themselves history. They reveal that the camera is not an impartial observer, but a human-guided tool that makes contrived and coded images open to interpretation.

They show us how photographs are in flux, their meanings reinvented and used for contrasting purposes depending on what the photographer wants to represent, their context, and how the audiences decide to interpret them. The Civil War moved photography out of the studio and into the field, demonstrating that photographs could perform other functions in addition to making portraits. The formation of private, for-profit, photographic corps gave photographers rigorous, hands-on training

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notes

for the government surveying expeditions of the uncharted territories between the Great Plains and the Pacific Coast that resumed soon after the war concluded. Although the demand for portraits was high, public exposure to war views remained comparatively limited, since there was as yet no direct way to cost-effectively and technically reproduce a photographic image in a newspaper or magazine. Those images that were published had to be translated through woodcuts, which significantly altered them. The depicted horrors of warfare were thus only truly seen by a few people through photography, so that in all likelihood their impact on public sentiment remains debatable. Their power and influence built up over time in their use as historical documents for future generations of photographers and viewers, demonstrating how the circulation and interpretation of photographs changes over time.

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In the twentieth century, these objective concepts would be renewed by, and become associated with, a group of artists known as the “New Topographics.” See William Jenkins’s “Introduction to New Topographics” in Andrew E. Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory: An Historical Anthology  (Boston, MA and Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell, 2014), 235–38. Also see Chapter 17. Problems of image deterioration affect today’s viewers of nineteenth-century prints. Albumen prints are predisposed to yellowing, which occurs in direct proportion to the thickness of the albumen layer, and to  foxing, a type of paper staining characterized by blotchy, reddish-brown patches, often circular or irregular in shape. These conditions alter the aesthetic quality of the print and can affect the quantity and quality of discernible information. See James M. Reilly,  Care and Identification of 19th Century Photographic Prints (Rochester, NY: Eastman Kodak Publication No. G-25, 1986). John Burnet’s  A Treatise on Painting: In Four Parts … (1822), had an impact on early photographic picturemaking. It remained in print through World War I. MoMA photography curator John Szarkowski would later consolidate this analytic idea into one of his five points on  The Photographer’s Eye. See Szarkowskis “Introduction to The Photographer’s Eye” (1966) in Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 226–31. Quoted in Lena R. Fenton, “The First Photographer at the Crimea in 1855,”  Illustrated London News, vol. 92 (1941), 590. Quoted in Helmut and Alison Gernsheim, Roger Fenton: Photographer of the Crimean War  (London: Secker & Warburg, 1954), 64–65. Roger Fenton to William Agnew, April 19, 1855; ibid., 62. Dr. David F. Rennie,  The British Arms in North China and Japan: Peking 1860; Kagosima 1862 (London: John Murray, 1864), 112. The Union included the states of Maine, New York, New Hampshire, Vermont, Massachusetts, Connecticut, Rhode Island, Pennsylvania, New Jersey, Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Kansas, Michigan, Wisconsin, Minnesota, Iowa, California, Nevada, and Oregon. Abraham Lincoln was their President. Later, West Virginia separated from Virginia and became part of the Union on June 20, 1863. Nevada also joined the Union during the war, becoming a state on October 31, 1864.

chapter five : world news

10 E. B. Long with Barbara Long,  The Civil War Day by

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Day: An Almanac 1861–1865  (New York: Doubleday and Co., 1971; reprint New York: Da Capo Press, 1985), 705–12. New research shows those numbers to be low. By going through newly digitized census data from the nineteenth century, J. David Hacker, a demographic historian from The State University of New York at Binghamton, has recalculated the death toll and increased it by more than 20 percent—to 750,000. See: www.nytimes.com/2012/04/03/science/civil-war-tollup-by-20-per-cent-in-new-estimate.html. However, other experts have not accepted his findings. See William F. Stapp, “Subjects of Strange … and of Fearful Interest,” in Marianne Fulton,  Eyes of Time (Boston, MA, Toronto, and London: Little, Brown and Company, 1988), 16. William A. Frassanito, Grant and Lee: The Virginia Campaigns 1864–1865 (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1983), 342–43. Oliver Wendell Holmes, “Doing of the Sunbeam,”  The Atlantic Monthly 12 ( July 1863), 1–15. As reprinted in Beaumont Newhall, Photography: Essays & Images (New York: Museum of Modern Art, 1980), 73. Holmes’s writings on photography provided a highly influential model to later theorists, including potentially Roland Barthes. Robin Kelsey has argued that Holmes’s “Stereograph” article anticipates Barthes’s idea of the “punctum” particularly when Holmes elaborates “on a tiny tombstone inscription that drew his attention away from the conventional meaning of his commercial stereograph.” See Robin Kelsey, Photography and the Art of Chance (Cambridge, MA: The Belknap Press, 2015), 81–82. Also, see Holmes’s earlier “The Stereoscope and the Stereograph” (1859), in Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 68–71. This question arose right at the beginnings of photography, especially perhaps with Talbot’s process and his description of it as  The Pencil of Nature. It reemerges from time to time throughout the history of photographic theory. In Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, see for example Talbot’s “Some Account of the Art of Photogenic Drawing” (1839), 38–43; Nathaniel Parker Willis and Timothy O. Porter, eds., “The Pencil of Nature. A New Discovery” (1839), 44–47; Rudolf Arnheim’s “On the Nature of Photography” (1974), 264–68, and Douglas R. Nickel’s “‘Impressed by Nature’s Hand’: Photography and Authorship” (2009), 399–405. Alexander Gardner, Gardner’s Photographic Sketch Book of the Civil War (New York: Dover Publications, 1959),

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unp. (Plate 41). Reprint that combines volume 1 and volume 2 of the original and adds the word “Civil” to the title for purposes of clarification. For more on this point with regard to other photographic publications on the Civil War, see Alan Trachtenberg’s “Through a Glass, Darkly: Photography and Cultural Memory” (2008), in Hershberger, ed.,  Photographic Theory, 421–24. Gardner, unp. (Plate 94). For an outstanding account of the American struggle to cope with the unprecedented carnage of the Civil War see Drew Gilpin Faust,  This Republic of Suffering: Death and the American Civil War (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 2008). Gardner, unp. (Plate 36). Haupt distributed thousands of Russell’s photographs to political and military leaders to secure continued support for his work. A private, limited edition album was put together for engineers and generals to instruct and promote ingenious solutions to complex, practical, and technological problems, likely making it the world’s first technical manual illustrated with photographs. Philadelphia Photographer, vol. 3, no. 31 ( July 1866), 214. See: David Henkin,“The Traveling Daguerreotype: Early Photography and the U.S. Postal System,” in Photography and Other Media in the Nineteenth Century, edited by Nicoletta Leonardi and Simone Natale (University Park, PA: The Pennsylvania State University Press, 2018). Bob Zeller, The Civil War in Depth: History in 3-D (San Francisco, CA: Chronicle Books, 1997), 65–67. The backside of Brady’s Album Gallery war cards carried this admonition: “The photographs of this series were taken directly from nature, at considerable cost. Warning is therefore given that legal proceeding will be at once instituted against any party infringing the copyright.” Gardner, unp. (Plate 36).

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PHOTO GRAPHY: ART OR INDUSTRY?

or did it possess its own syntax that set it apart from other media? Was photography’s purpose to objectively reproduce what was before the camera or could it be controlled for artistic concerns?2 Some well-educated people viewed photography’s popularity and commercialization as threatening to the position of high art. They believed photographers were failed artists who were mere slaves to reproducing the natural appearance of their subjects, and doubted whether the process could be manipulated to create works based on inner feelings and thoughts. Charles Baudelaire (1821–1867), the French Symbolist poet who claimed to hate having his photograph taken (and yet did so numerous times), unleashed a diatribe on the role of photography in the arts and society, linking it to a lack of imagination on the part of its public. In a sense, Baudelaire claimed that photography fails to critically address the world in which it functions. He blamed the situation on the ascendance of science and mechanical inventions. Baudelaire wrote:

The introduction of the wet plate process and the relaxation of Talbot’s patent restrictions led to an explosive increase in the number of people making their living from photography.1  During the 1850s, some of England’s most notable photographers, including Roger Fenton, Robert Howlett, and Henry Peach Robinson, abandoned their amateur status and turned professional. Photography had become a business with a widening division of purpose between amateurs and professionals. The professionals were motivated by market forces to produce salable products. The amateurs pursued their personal inclinations and claimed the moral high ground of art, beauty, and truth, relegating the professionals to the corner of crass commercialism. The professionals perceived the amateurs as elitists who ignored the basic photographic needs of the majority of people. Amateur groups, such as the Royal Photographic Society of London (founded 1853), championed their role of pursuing photography for its own sake. The publication of Sir William Newton’s article, “Upon Photography in an Artistic View” (1853), brought to a boil the issues surrounding the purpose of photography (see Chapter 3). Was photography the handmaiden of art or could it be an art unto itself? Was it a technical process

Since photography provides us every desirable guarantee of exactitude that we could desire (they believe that, poor madmen!), art is photography. From that moment onwards, our loathsome society rushed, like Narcissus, to contemplate its trivial image on metallic plate … As the photographic industry became the refuge of all failed painters with too little talent, or too lazy to complete

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Lady Elizabeth Eastlake (1809–1893), married to Sir Charles Eastlake (1793–1865), Director of the National Gallery of Art in London and the first president of the Photographic Society of London, published an early, unsigned history of photography, offering an astute appraisal of the medium’s position in relation to art. After indexing photography’s inadequacies when compared with painting, she took issue with the position taken by critics like Baudelaire as “mistaken” and described photography’s future as an autonomous “new medium of communication.” However, Eastlake concludes that photography is not capable of being an autonomous art form, but that it will free the other arts from literal description and hasten “the time … when art is sought, as it ought to be, mainly for its own sake.”4 A turning point in photography’s quest to be recognized as an independent medium occurred in 1861 when the French studio of Mayer & Pierson accused another studio, Thiebault, Betbéder & Schwabbé, of unauthorized copying, claiming their celebrity photographs were protected under French copyright laws that applied to the arts. To be covered under these laws, photography first had to be declared an art. In early 1862, the court ruled against Mayer & Pierson. Later that year, however, the court declared on appeal that photography was indeed an art and entitled to legal protection.5 After the second decision, the artist and social satirist Honoré Daumier (1808–1879) released Nadar Raising Photography to the Height of Art  (1862), a lithograph featuring Nadar in his balloon, taking pictures above Paris, in which every building was labeled with the word “Photographie.” A group of artists, fearful of the effects this decision would have on their profession, signed a petition objecting to the appeal court’s decision, which the court rejected. Photography was held to be the product of thought and soul, of taste and intelligence, and to bear the imprint of the individual personality; therefore, it could legally be considered a legitimate art. Mayer & Pierson published  La photographie  (1862), a

their studies, this universal craze not only assumed the air of blind and imbecile infatuation, but took on the aspect of vengeance…. Photography must therefore, return to its true duty, which is that of handmaid of the sciences and the arts, but a very humble handmaid, like painting or shorthand, which have neither created nor supplemented literature.… let it, in short, be the secretary and record-keeper of whomever needs an absolute material accuracy for professional reasons.… But if once allowed to impinge on the sphere of the intangible and the imaginary, on anything that has value solely because man adds something to it from his soul, then woe betide us! 3

By the mid-1850s the debate over photography’s potential as a creative medium had begun.

HONORÉ DAUMIER. Nadar Raising Photography to the Height of Art, 1862. 10½ × 8 11⁄16 inches. Lithograph from Souvenirs d’Artistes. COURTESY  The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, Harris Brisbane Dick Fund, 1926.

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book on aesthetics and technique that proclaimed the importance of the photograph. That same year André-Adolphe-Eugène Disdéri brought out  L’art de la photographie, in which he discussed the artistic controls available to photographers and compared his studio methods to those of contemporary painters, proclaiming the camera could be controlled like a painter’s brush. The joining of photographic form to the arts was officially underway. As Lady Eastlake noted, one of the major obstacles blocking the recognition of photography as art was the wet plate’s photographic emulsion being insensitive to all parts of the spectrum except blue and ultraviolet radiation, which gave colors an inaccurate translation into black-and-white tones.6 Red or green subjects were not properly recorded and appeared in prints as black. Exposures, calculated to record detail in the land, overexposed the sky. The amount of overexposure was uneven and produced areas of low density in the negative. When the negative was printed these sections appeared gray and mottled, an effect not suitable for picturesque landscapes. There were two ways to correct the problem. The first was to outline directly above the horizon area of a landscape negative with opaque paint, and then cut a mat to cover the rest of the sky portion of the negative during printing. This resulted in a print with an open, solid white sky that was still unpicturesque. The artistic solution was to make a  combination print  that was complicated, time-consuming, and expensive. The process involved making two separate negatives, one for the ground and a second for the sky. After processing they were masked, with the land’s features printed in from the first negative and the sky’s from the second. Landscape photographers often kept a stock collection of sky negatives, which were used in printing future views. Gustave Le Gray’s seascapes were considered spectacular for not only stopping the action of waves but for their dramatic cloud formations, achieved from separately made cloud negatives. His prints demonstrated that

photographers could translate feelings into their work and control their medium just as other artists did. Oscar G. Rejlander’s allegorical work,  Two Ways of Life, so clearly verified the artistic potential of combination printing that it eventually became an accepted practice. The practice of hand-applying color overcame photography’s lack of color. Alfred H. Wall promoted the practice in his Manual of artistic colouring as applied to photographs  (1861). Wall, a former miniature and portrait painter, said that painting over a photograph was just as acceptable as painters such as Leonardo and Titian painting over their  abbozzo.7  Wall complained that artists repudiated colored photographs because they were not paintings and that photographers rejected them because they were not true photographs. He saw no reason for censuring work that combined “the truth of the one with the loveliness of the other.” Composite and hand-colored images took time and deft handwork. Time added translated into value added that increased fees for work, which in turn, encouraged photographers to portray subjects previously reserved for painters.

PHOTO GRAPHY AND PAINTING : TOWARDS A NEW LANGUAGE During the mid-nineteenth century realism became a force in the arts.  Realism sought to counter the often idealized subject matter of Romantic and Neoclassical painting with direct and frank views of everyday life, including of the middle classes and the underprivileged. Gustave Courbet (1819–1877) organized the first Realist exhibition in protest against the rejection of his works by the Academy. Incidentally, Courbet also used photographs of nude models, likely made by artist Julien Vallou de

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Villeneuve (1795‒1866), as studies for some of his paintings. As the public became acquainted with photography’s veracity and ability to give significance to everyday experiences, their expectations about how reality should be represented and what subjects were worthy of depiction changed. Photographs were considered  more artistic when they looked less photographic, and retouching methods were developed that made a photograph resemble a painting. Paintings, on the other hand, were thought to be more artistic if they featured “photographic” detail. To enhance the artistic value of their work, educated photographers looked to the painterly practices of depicting symbolic, narrative allegories, the figurative treatment of one subject under the appearance of another. Their subjects often appeared as representations of abstract moral and/or otherworldly qualities, related as a fable or parable. The Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood, a group of English painters and poets founded by Dante Gabriel Rossetti in 1848 to protest the low standards of British art, reacted against the material world of an industrializing England by embracing the beauty and simplicity of their idealized view of the medieval world through Symbolism. They were a major influence on photographers, such as F. Holland Day, who had artistic aspirations. This initial process of imitating accepted artistic styles put photographers on track to discovering their medium’s own bona fide artistic characteristics. Amateur calotypists realized that the calotype’s inherent “imperfections” also represented some of its inherent strengths. This reinforced the discoveries of Hill and Adamson’s genre work that connected a subject with the space around it and amplified its distinct identity. With the inclination, time, and resources to experiment, amateur calotypists saw that the beauty and power of their calotypes came from their broad, soft, grainy portrayals, where the human figure can be perceived as form and mass. Professional photographers, on the other hand,

favored the detail that the wet plate system offered, even though it required methodical planning that discouraged spontaneity. The calotypist could make a negative in ten minutes, whereas the wet plate maker needed an hour. In addition to the extra time necessary for execution, a wet plate negative was more expensive. Often, if it did not deliver the desired result, a photographer would scrape off the emulsion and reuse the glass plate. Calotypists, in contrast, were stuck with their mistakes because the paper negative was not reusable, which gave them time to reflect on these accidental happenings. Thus, many such unplanned negatives were printed to see what the photographic process had revealed. These fresh and unique camera-induced ways of seeing incorporated unexpected, chance occurrences into the visual outcome, offering an alternative to natural vision and Renaissance models for portraying the world. A homemade portrait album from the 1850s (now located in the Eastman Museum Collection) by an unidentified, probably English, photographer shows us the family pictures of a well-to-do amateur, one who seemed aware of posing strategies used by other calotypists, including Talbot. Combined with the formalist concerns of composition and light is an unmistakable  snapshot impulse. We find photographs of what has become the traditional snapshot subject matter of family and home: a slightly blurry, smiling little girl with her doll, looking directly into the camera; a mother and her baby; a mother with her son and his grandmother; a close-up portrait of the family dog; a group portrait of mother, father, and six children. One image captures a girl in a black dress holding her small, moving white dog, which has seemingly turned into an interdimensional ghost.8 Such early family albums portray and relay a sense of everydayness and commemorate these previously undepicted scenes, which have become part of the photographic language and now appear commonplace and are taken for granted.

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PHOTO GRAPHY CLUBS: SPREADING THE MEDIUM In Europe, since a structure already existed for clubs that provided a sense of community, organization, and common purpose to upper-class amateurs with a shared interest, photographic groups formed naturally.9  The British  Exchange Club membership featured prominent practitioners such as Roger Fenton, Oscar G. Rejlander, William Frederick Lake Price, and William Newton. Not as well known were women members like Mary E. Lynn, Lady Augusta Mostyn, and Lady Caroline Nevill (1829–1887),10 all of whom are included in the  Exchange Club  album of 1855 in the George Eastman Museum collection. A jury would make selections that typically included picturesque landscapes, still lifes, genre scenes, exotic foreign subjects, historic sites, and allegorical compositions from the membership for an annual album.11 To meet the increasing demand to learn photography, in December 1865, King’s College, the University of London, became the first site of higher learning to offer photography classes. By the start of the 1860s, there were at least twenty-four different photographic societies in Great Britain. Some, such as the Amateur Photographic Association (1861–1905), mounted exhibits of up to a thousand photographs. The images, often in ornate frames, were squeezed onto the wall from the floor to the ceiling, forcing viewers to crouch on all fours to see some of the pictures. Borrowing from existing “salon style” practices of art gallery exhibition, this densely packed method of presentation continued through the end of the century. Initially only the British upper class had the financial means and time to pursue membership in such groups. However, as interest expanded and photography became a profession, more people became involved, including the middle-class who took it up as a hobby.

WILLIAM FREDERICK LAKE PRICE. Don Quixote in His Study, circa 1855. 12 9⁄16 × 11 inches. Albumen silver print from glass negative. COURTESY  The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, Gift of A. Hyatt

Mayor, 1969.

The simplest way for photography to appear artistic was to take on the theatrical, staged tableau trappings of history painting. William Frederick Lake Price (1810–1896), a watercolor painter and lithographer, who authored A Manual of Photographic Manipulation (1868), took this literal approach by dressing up his subjects in the  style of the Royal Academicians. The problem with this imitative manner is that it did not go past the surface appearance and explore photography’s innate language. Amateurs pushed the boundaries of accepted practice and explored a more personal style of expression than the commercial studios. Rejecting the genteel and preordained poses of the commercial

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LADY CLEMENTINA HAWARDEN. Photographic Study, early 1860s. 7 15⁄16 x 5 11⁄16 inches. Albumen silver print from glass negative. COURTESY  The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Gilman Paper Company Collection.

studio in favor of a more active image, they pictured a wider range of facial expressions and postures. One such amateur pioneer, Lady Clementina Hawarden (1822–1865), working with family and friends, provides glimpses into the dynamics of the intimate female world of the well-to-do Victorians where passion is kept hidden. Through the ambiguity and dreaminess that surrounds Hawarden’s restrained subjects, viewers search the frame for traces of a maiden’s hidden desires. Despite having

limited options compared with her male colleagues, Hawarden’s thoughtful choices regarding her model’s splendid clothing, postures, poses, props, and use of mirrors (suggesting the doppelganger) were unified by her understanding of indoor light to produce shadowy, theatrical contrasts of dark and light. The languid poses, often reminiscent of the pre-Raphaelite artists, were likely a result of the fact that the relationship between photographer and model was that of a mother and her daughters.

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LADY MARY GEORGINA FILMER. Untitled, circa mid-1860s. 7¾ × 11¼ inches. Collage of watercolor and albumen silver print. Known as a Victorian socialite, Lady Filmer created several albums that combined photomontage and watercolor. In this construction she positions herself up front next to the larger figure of the dapper Prince of Wales, with whom she was known to flirt. The pink table features her standing with albums and glue pot. Her husband, Sir Edmund Filmer, appears as a smaller figure seated by the family dog.

Despite her brief career, Hawarden produced over 800 photographs and was the first female photographer to receive critical recognition for making impeccable prints. She exhibited her work with the Photographic Society of London, in 1863 and 1864 and was awarded the Society’s silver medal for both. Although her photographs were admired by Oscar Gustave Rejlander and Lewis Carroll, she appears not to have printed many images from each negative, nor did she actively sell her work.

Another amateur,  Lady Mary Georgina Filmer  (1838–1903), made early collages that combined carte-de-visite portraits with watercolor designs of butterflies and floral arrangements. These pieces, with their occasional sexual allusions, foretell Freud’s notion of  unconscious associations  that disclose aspects of mental life not subject to recall at will. Such ideas could only be expressed in pictures—the language for such a discussion did not exist at the time. Photographic montage allowed

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people of various levels of artistic skill to take everyday events and reorient them in time and space. This positioned photography as a medium that invited artists to delve into the cut-and-paste, free-association world of dreams, enabling the unconscious, repressed residue of socially unacceptable desires and experiences to emerge into conscious awareness. These concepts were later adapted by the Surrealists. Lewis Carroll, the pseudonym of Reverend Charles Lutwidge Dodgson (1832–1898), began making photographs in 1856 that mirrored the bizarre netherworlds he wrote about in his Victorian fantasy novels:  Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland  (1865) and  Through the Looking Glass (1872). Carroll’s adroitness in the company of young girls enabled him to compose images revealing their natural sense of dexterity and intuitive spontaneity. Influenced by the Pre-Raphaelite ideals of romantic feminine innocence and virgin beauty, Carroll’s images have come to play a role in creating our nostalgic conception of a dreamy, lost paradise of Victorian childhood. His preference for moralizing works also led Carroll to endow his young sitters with his own adult, melancholic emotional and sexual dilemmas. Victorians rarely made the distinction between poetic representations and pornography, and during the first half of the nineteenth century artists regularly painted nude young girls who were considered to be angelic. However, by the later nineteenth century, the spread of pornographic photographs as well as journalistic exposés of child prostitution made this position much less tenable. Criticized for photographing young girls in the nude, Carroll destroyed those negatives that, in his words, “so utterly defied convention” and abandoned photography, although he continued to collect “artistic” photographs of naked children.12 However troubling his motivations may appear to the contemporary viewer, no smoking gun has yet been uncovered that points to anything beyond the peculiarities of his Victorian sexual feelings.13

LEWIS CARROLL. Alice Liddell as The Beggar Maid, 1858. 6 7⁄16  x 4 5⁄16 inches. Albumen silver print from glass negative. Lewis Carroll’s Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland (1865) and Through the Looking Glass and What Alice Found There (1872), were both written for Alice Liddell, his favorite model who he referred to as his “ideal child-friend.” This image of Alice was likely inspired by Alfred Tennyson’s poem “The Beggar Maid” (1842). Carroll posed Liddell, revealing much of her bare chest and limbs, while prompting a challenging, self-possessed attitude capable of stirring both compassion and desire. A few years later, Alice posed for Julia Margaret Cameron with grown-up aplomb. COURTESY

The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. Gilman Collection, Gift of The

Howard Gilman Foundation, 2005.

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EXPANDING THE PHOTO GRAPHIC SYNTAX

Rejlander produced  The Two Ways of Life, an elaborate allegorical photomontage contrasting Virtue and Vice. During a six-week period Rejlander drew sketches, hired models, and made thirty separate negatives that he masked, printed on two pieces of paper, and connected. This marvel of combination printing was then rephotographed onto a single negative, and various, slightly different editions were reproduced. The photograph’s unusually large size, 16 × 31 inches, made people stop and notice, enabling it to hold its own on a gallery wall. The Two Ways represents

Picture makers base their initial practice on tradition. The innovative ones reflect upon the existing hierarchy and build out in new directions based on what came before them. Oscar Gustav Rejlander  (1813–1875) learned the basics of photography one afternoon in 1853 in order to make studies for his paintings. Within two years he had opened a photographic portrait studio. In 1857 the influential Manchester Art Treasures Exhibition for the first time allowed photography to be displayed alongside painting, drawing, sculpture, and engraving, signaling an acceptance of artistic photographs.14  This was a breakthrough, as photography was often shown in segregated categories under industrial, scientific, and technical headings. Regarding the camera as a machine with both diagnostic and interpretive capabilities, Victorians saw its practitioners as scientists and technicians first, and artists second (if at all). As the standards for artistic photography were based on painting, the sharp, mechanical literalness of most photographs was considered a hindrance to achieving high art. To overcome this obstacle photographers began to use second-rate optics, smear their lenses with finger oil, or kick the tripod during exposure to suppress photographic sharpness. Finally, to compete with allegorical painting, photographers’ works had to be morally uplifting and instructive. This was accomplished by constructing complex  tableaux, an arrangement of persons and/or objects to form a scene. This style  of working allowed photographers to overcome the medium’s mechanical status while circumventing the technical limits of the wet plate process. Rejlander set out to create a photograph requiring “the same operations of mind, the same artistic treatment and careful manipulation”15  as works done in crayon or paint on canvas.

a venerable sage introducing two young men into life—the one, calm and placid, turns towards Religion, Charity and Industry, and the other virtues, while the other rushes madly from his guide into the pleasures of the world, typified by various figures, representing Gambling, Wine, Licentiousness and other vices; ending in Suicide, Insanity and Death. The center of the picture, in front, between two parties, is a splendid fi rep [figure] symbolizing Repentance, with the emblem of Hope.16

Two Ways did not sell well and provoked debate on the ethics of combining negatives to manufacture a scene that never existed as a whole in front of the camera. This debate marked an early instance of critical thinking about the medium. Oddly, critics who praised LeGray’s waves in motion as a natural phenomenon captured by the camera, found Rejlander’s hand manipulation of the process “unnatural” and therefore off limits. The picture’s detractors claimed it was a violation of the “true nature” of photography; works of “high art” could not be accomplished by “mechanical contrivances.”17 In the Victorian age, when piano legs were costumed with pantaloons, the photographic nudity of Two Ways was actually shocking.18 The process of combination printing led to the first photographic montages designed for a public audience, providing a refreshing set of representational possibilities. Since it questioned established viewing rules, many

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OSCAR G. REJLANDER. Two Ways of Life (Hope in repentance), 1857, printed 1925 by Reginald A. Malby. 16 × 31 inches. Albumen silver print. COURTESY  George Eastman Museum, Rochester, NY.

OSCAR G. REJLANDER, The Bachelor’s Dream, c. 1860, albumen silver print, 5.47 x 7.72 inches.

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felt threatened and rejected the new way of picturemaking. The concept that art was a matter of ideas and not limited to specific practices was given voice by the French naturalist Louis Figuier, who believed photography could improve artistic eloquence and public taste, and that “what makes an artist is not the process but the feeling.”19 Photography as a fine art also faced resistance from art dealers who saw photography as a threat to their investments and sought to keep photographs out of their galleries. Rejlander complained that “picture-dealers are, or have been, from interested motives, the greatest opponents to photography.”20  But even as photography was being denounced, the very fact that important minds, such as Baudelaire’s, were critically discussing the medium increased its credibility, importance, and visibility. The rise of photography as an art form would transform and potentially supplant art’s traditional function of portraying reality. Rejlander’s efforts have long been criticized as being “imitations” of painting, yet they were a necessary step in expanding the boundaries of photographic practice, inspiring others to enlarge photography’s dialogue and role. The artistic criticism and financial hardships took their toll on Rejlander, however, who only made a few more combination prints; none of them approaching the polemic nature and scale of The Two Ways.

Despite the criticism of The Two Ways, Rejlander did produce numerous formula-driven portraits while also creating other images that broke with accepted working practice.  Hard Times  (1860) made conscious use of double exposure, converting what many thought to be an error into an authentic photographic form, one not based on painting’s prescriptions. In The Bachelor’s Dream (circa 1860), which resembles no other photograph from that time, Rejlander grapples with visualizing a mental impression by incorporating the fashionable woman’s skirt hoop into the composition. Its  phantomlike

RICHARD COCKLE LUCAS. A Necromancer, from Studies of Expression, circa 1858. 2 × 3¼ inches. Albumen silver print. Eccentric British artist and sculptor Richard Cockle Lucas (1800–1883), who supposedly believed in fairies and rode around in a Roman chariot, made a series of role-playing theatrical self-portraits, foretelling the work of future artists such as Cindy Sherman. Following Lucas’s example, Rejlander later went on to use himself to catalog human emotional responses before the camera in Studies of Expression (1865). These became well-known when they appeared as illustrations in Charles Darwin’s The Expression of the Emotions in Man and Animals (1872). Rejlander also made children’s portraits, attracting the notice of Lewis Carroll and Julia Margaret Cameron. COURTESY

National Portrait Gallery, London.

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HENRY PEACH ROBINSON. Fading Away, 1858. 9 5⁄8 × 15½ inches. Albumen silver print.

qualities blend fantasy and reality, raising questions while providing no answers. The photograph invites viewers to interpret it, challenging the audience to think about and question whether photography can convey complex intellectual and emotional thoughts. This attests to his artistic philosophy:

Rejlander also made a portrait of Lewis Carroll polishing a large lens positioned in lap, indicating the close-knit connections of the small artistically inclined photographers of that era. Henry Peach Robinson  (1830–1901) was a painter who took up photography in 1852 and opened a photographic portrait studio five years later. Rejlander’s  The Two Ways of Life  inspired Robinson to undertake combination printing. In 1858, Robinson exhibited Fading Away. Made from five negatives, it shows a young girl on her deathbed with her grieving mother, sister, and fiancé in attendance. By Victorian standards this sorrowful scene was scandalously morbid as it did not conform to accepted ideas about what photography should picture. Far more distressful scenes were painted, but because  Fading Away  was a photograph, people perceived it as a literal representation

I regard art as a means of making thought visible. If I can make a thought visible in a picture […] it is a work of art whether I produce it by the aid of the camera or of the pencil. It is the mind of the artist, and not the nature of the materials, which makes his production a work of art.21

In 1863, Rejlander visited Julia Margaret Cameron on the Isle of Wight. In addition to teaching her photography, he is also recognized as assisting in shaping her vision. That same year,

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of an actual event. In an age when death was not hidden away, most people were perhaps too familiar with such scenes. After Robinson revealed that his primary model “was a fine healthy girl of about fourteen, and the picture was done to see how near death she could be made to look,”22 the work was criticized for being manufactured. The combination prints of Rejlander and Robinson challenged the belief that painters alone had the right to create scenes while photographers could never be more than mere mechanical extensions of their equipment. For photography to make its way in the art world, it had to debunk such limiting ideas. Prince Albert lent additional credence to Robinson’s practice when he purchased  Fading Away  and gave Robinson a standing order for every pictorial image he created. Once audiences overcame the shock of the combination print, they accepted it, realizing that Robinson’s fundamental ideology embraced their notions of art. This made Robinson the most popular, emulated, and well-to-do photographer of the second half of the nineteenth century. Robinson’s books and articles energetically articulated his position and influenced the development of future photographers. His Pictorial Effect in Photography (1869), which advocated the basic canons of painting and their usage of “composition and chiaroscuro” as the “guiding laws” of an art photograph,23  was the most widely read photography textbook of the nineteenth century.24 Robinson sought methods for uniting the rational with the subjective, to allow photographers to achieve the picturesque. He believed that combination printing gave “much greater liberty to the photographer and much greater facilities for representing the nature of nature.”25  Critics were outraged by Robinson’s constructed images for violating their sense of photographic authenticity. Combination printing was acceptable in landscapes as the public was conditioned by painting to expect idealized renditions, but when it came to portraying humans, viewers associated photography with

unarranged truth. Nevertheless, Robinson was able to expand photography’s reach and encourage the public to embrace his combinations as expressing the accepted allegorical ideals and standards of the day. Robinson’s work possesses a duality common to educated photographic practitioners born before the invention of photography who thought like painters. Although Robinson’s representations broke no new ground in painting’s aesthetic schema, he showed that photography could achieve the same artistic goals as painting, thus allowing the next generation to explore photography’s own morphology. In the short term, Robinson’s work had the opposite effect. His allegorical ideas, magical theatrical techniques, and moralizing sentiment were so successful that they dominated photographic discourse and stifled other ways of thinking photographically until the 1880s. In a harsh reversal of fortune, Robinson’s striving for a literary image, reminiscent of nineteenth-century painting, was often despised and in critical eclipse for most of the twentieth century. Yet, in another about-face, today Robinson’s practices look like progenitors of the postmodern photographers who stage tableaux before the camera and digitally manipulate their images.26 Julia Margaret Cameron (1815–1879) lived in India as a member of the socially privileged British-Indian colonial system before returning with her family to England in 1848, where their home became a meeting place for people in arts and letters. When Cameron was forty-nine, her daughter gave her a camera and she taught herself the collodion process. Her goal was to make romantic, allegorical photographs capable of expressing the ideals of the Pre-Raphaelites, who saw evil in industrialization and wanted the return of heroes who believed in God, honor, and morality. Cameron wrote: “My aspirations are to ennoble Photography and to secure for it the character and uses of High Art by combining the real & Ideal and sacrificing nothing of Truth by all possible devotion to Poetry and beauty.”27

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JULIA MARGARET CAMERON. Sir J.F.W. Herschel, 1867. 11 × 815⁄16 inches. Albumen silver print. “When I have such men before my camera my whole soul has endeavored to do its duty towards them in recording faithfully the greatness of the inner as well as the features of the outer man. The photograph thus taken has almost been the embodiment of prayer.”28 COURTESY  The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles, CA.

Toward these passionate ends, Cameron made a glass-roofed chicken-house her studio, where maids and family modeled, and converted a former coalhouse into a darkroom and embarked on a series of portraits that were uniquely photographic in

nature. She tossed aside many standard working practices, including at times the assumption of “in focus” images, in order to photographically record the spiritual essence of her sitter. The spontaneous quality of her earliest work, such as  Kathy Kuhn

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and Her Father, 1864 (from the  Watts Album  in the Eastman Museum Collection), reveals a proto-snapshot sensibility. Cameron instinctively brought her camera close to her subjects, fashioning a close-up portrait that brought to the forefront the subject’s distinctive intellectual and psychological qualities. Her head portraits were made on large plates (about 11 × 14 inches) with a giant 30-inch focal length lens. They were so unusual Cameron would sometimes write below the print: “From Life Not Enlarged.” Cameron’s use of directional light rendered the features and modeling of each sitter. Although Cameron’s exposures averaged about five minutes, she did not use a headrest. Instead she allowed the sitter’s natural motion to add a haptic transcendent quality to her pictures, thus purposely introducing “chance operations” or “flaws” into her practice.29  The idea that the blur could be used as a tactic was a conceptual break from the portrait ideal in which a sitter was rendered absolutely still and part of the viewing pleasure was in examining idiosyncratic detail. Cameron played down such photographic veracity in favor of a subjective response that included bodily sensations, merging the rational and immaterial levels of reality. Cameron’s most innovative work involved capturing a sitter’s spiritual qualities. Her blurry image of Herschel, with its competing areas of light and dark and its tracts of absolute obscurity, is meant to evoke an atmosphere that suggests her sitter’s inner likeness as much as his physical one. Herschel’s head, surrounded by darkness, radiates a metaphysical endowment as exactitude loses all consequence. Cameron was not ignorant of standard methods, but she chose to go her own way, making what others considered blunders part of her portrait style of capturing a living essence of her subjects. The negative for Cameron’s  Sappho  (1865) had a big crack in the lower left portion of the plate, and rather than discarding it, she nonetheless printed the image.

Casting against type and selecting a solid featured house servant, Mary Hillier, for Sappho, Cameron’s rendition of the Greek lyrical poet from the island of Lesbos succeeds on its own terms. Rather than concealing the nature of the photographic process, Cameron exults in it, even including her finger prints in the final image (another print includes processing drips marks), thereby establishing a direct visual connection between the process and the product. She lets the viewer know that her accomplishment was done through the agency of photography, paving the way for the formation of an inherent, rather than imitative, photographic language. Cameron also disobeyed the rules of focus to create fresh visual forms and points of emphasis. She was influenced by the photographic work of the English painter David Wilkie Wynfield, from whom she took photography lessons, who pictured his friends dressed-up in Renaissance costumes. A critic of the day had this to say about Wynfield’s work and its relationship to the boundaries of photographic portrayal: A photographer’s grand aim is get everything into an “artificial focus,” which is widely different from that of the human eye  …  Mr. Wynfield—has actually produced a set of photographs which are intentionally and confessedly “out of focus” … they ought to revolutionize photographic portraiture.30

The issue of focus was critical in defining serious nineteenth-century artistic practice. During the 1860s, Cameron’s work helped establish the issue of selective focus as a criterion of peerless practice. The making of “out-of-focus” photographs was considered an expressive remedy that shifted the artificial, machine-focus of a camera toward a more natural vision. Cameron stated that: my first successes in my out-of-focus pictures were a fluke. That is to say, that when focusing and coming to something which, to my eye, was very beautiful, I stopped

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JULIA MARGARET CAMERON. Sappho, 1865. 13¾ x 10¾ inches. Albumen silver print from glass negative. When this photograph was made, Sappho was fashionable as a symbol of the ancient Greco-Roman world and inspired both authors and painters. The sitter is Cameron’s young parlor maid, Mary Hillier, described by Cameron in her autobiographical Annals of My Glass House as “one of the most beautiful and constant of my models.” Cameron photographed Hillier for over a decade in a variety of roles, among them the Madonna, the goddess Psyche, and the virgin martyr St. Agnes. COURTESY

The Metropolitan Museum of

Art, New York.

Issues of focus aside, Cameron’s roots were those of a family photographer who celebrated the lives and values of those closest to her, establishing transcendental principles still being pictured by millions of family snapshooters. Inspired by her friendship with the allegorical artist George Watts, Cameron’s idealized, mythical pieces also picture women in marriage and motherhood, and illustrious women

there instead of screwing on the lens to the more definite focus which all other photographers insist upon.31

As the aesthetics of practice changed in the early 1870s, coming to rely on the transparent exactitude of the wet plate as the photographic standard, Cameron shifted too and began making “in-focus” pictures.

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from history, literature, and religion. Cameron was the first photographer to stress the power and significance of women’s lives.32 By and large, Cameron’s practice melded the reproduction of observable reality with computations from the expressive, inner workings of the imagination. This tangible shift in representing the inner and the outer not only called into question the nature of photography and its relationship to truth, but also raised matters regarding how society grasped art’s relationship to reality while demonstrating how one can integrate technology into their thinking. Cameron’s dualistic and poetic outlook would blossom with the rise of pictorialism in the 1880s.

SPIRITUALISM Although Americans by and large did not practice the kind of allegorical combination printing of Rejlander or Robinson, spirit pictures encouraged experimentation with intentional multiple exposure and acceptance of this style of depiction as a means of expanding photographic expression. Americans approached spiritual or otherworldly images through a movement known as  transcendentalism, which believed that sight was related to insight, or a kind of hypervision, suggesting that clear perception is a precursor to understanding. Thus a focused viewer became a seer. In Nature (1836), Ralph Waldo Emerson describes this mystical state of intense perception as becoming a “transparent eyeball; I am nothing; I see all; the currents of the Universal Being circulate through me; I am part or parcel of God.”33 A segment of this movement was Spiritualism, founded in Rochester, NY, in 1848 by the medium Margaret Fox and her sisters, who later admitted their activities were fraudulent.34 Spiritualists believed that the human personality survived death and could communicate with the living through a medium who

WILLIAM H. MUMLER. Mary Lincoln with the Ghosts of Her Husband Abraham Lincoln and Her Son Thomas “Tad” Behind Her, 1872. 3 7⁄8 × 2¼ inches. Albumen silver print. American spiritualism was practiced with religious zeal by many who had lost loved ones in the Civil War and to disease. Mary Lincoln had lost two sons and her husband. As her mental and physical health deteriorated, she found solace in the belief that she could communicate with her dead loved ones. Her spiritualism, combined with hearing voices and her erratic behavior, led her to stand trial for lunacy and she was briefly institutionalized.

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was sensitive to the spirit’s vibrations. This gave rise to so-called spirit photography, which purported to make visual records of ectoplasmic manifestations of persons in a state beyond death. William H. Mumler (1832–1884), who ran a spirit photograph studio in New York in the early 1860s, was arrested as a swindler, though the charges were eventually dismissed because trickery was not proven.35

Mumler’s future wife, who seems to have used three identities (Hannah Frances Green, Helen F. Stuart, and Hannah Mumler), was the photographer who owned their original Boston studio where she possibly invented spirit photography while acting as “Clairvoyant Physician.”36 The couple even took out advertisements inviting customers to send in photographs of themselves from which they would

ELSIE WRIGHT AND FRANCES GRIFFITHS (a.k.a. Alice). Alice and the Fairies, 1917. 5.9 x 7.9 inches. Toned gelatin silver print. Printed by Harold Snelling, circa 1920. Borrowing Elsie’s father’s Midg quarter-plate camera, and using colored paper cutouts and hat pins, the young girls (aged 16 and 9) staged their scenes near the stream at the end of Elsie’s garden. Taking the first two photographs in July and September 1917, the girls felt unable to confess to their hoax due to the embarrassment caused by the publicity and support of the story by celebrities including Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. In the summer of 1920, Doyle persuaded the girls to take three more photographs, forming a group of five that were sold to the public on brown cardstock. In a display of his adamant belief in the spirit world, Doyle published The Coming of the Fairies (1922), furnishing the story of the photographs, their supposed provenance, and the implications of their existence. The grouping is considered one of the most uncanny and successful photographic hoaxes of the last century.

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POSITIVISM

produce a spirit photograph. To maintain believability, spirit operators concealed their methods from the public and used ploys such as: a plate with a previously recorded ghost image, a transparency of a ghost image placed in front of the lens, a miniature ghost transparency placed behind the lens, or a ghost image reflected into the lens during exposure. Spirit photographs attracted a large audience of predisposed believers who paid no attention when it was demonstrated that spirit photographs were produced by double exposure, multiple printing, and auxiliary deceptions. Other photographers used these techniques and got into this commercially viable escapade without making any supernatural claims. To help sell his stereoscope, Sir David Brewster suggested making “ghost” stereo cards for fun; they quickly became a fad. Even though ghost cards were known to be fabricated, the fact that they were done photographically gave the appearance of truth. Spirit photography spread to Europe during the mid-1870s and again in the 1890s. These were times of recession for portrait studios, and ghosts were good for business. Spirit photographers also experienced a resurrection following World Wars I and II, as grief-stricken survivors attempted to maintain their access to the dead through photography. Conan Doyle believed in the photographs of the Cottingley Fairies (1917 and 1920), which were made by two young girls (Elsie Wright (1901– 1988) and Frances Griffiths (1907–1986)) in Yorkshire, England. Later on, one of the girls admitted the “Fairies” were paper cutouts of drawings she made based on a popular children’s book called Princess Mary’s Gift Book (1915). Could it be that Conan Doyle, unlike his super-rational character Sherlock Holmes, conflated photographic fact and fiction? If so, this would divulge how fervent individual beliefs affect the way people interpret photography’s indexical relationship to the world, allowing one to merge fact and myth in order to fabricate a pseudo reality based on a fairy tale.37

While a small fellowship of amateurs struggled to represent photography as art, the majority were interested in the photograph’s ability to memorialize people, places, and things. During this time the philosophy of  Positivism, as put forth by Auguste Comte (1798–1857), was in vogue. Positivism stated that social progress and human knowledge were dependent on precise ordered observation, classification, and comparison of external events. The philosophy accepted the technical exactitude of science and the machine over the relativity of human perception, and declared that reality, the physical facts, is precisely what we perceive. During the second half of the nineteenth century, positivist philosophy was applied in social institutions, including hospitals and law enforcement, which were given more centralized power to control individual behavior. The positivists put their ideas into practice with the perfect positivistic tool—the photograph. Beginning in the 1840s, police began making identification pictures that led to the use of photographs as courtroom evidence.  Dr. Hugh Welch Diamond  (1809–1886), the superintendent of the Female Department of the Surrey County Lunatic Asylum and founding member of the Photographic Society, combined Positivism, aesthetics, photography, psychiatry, and physiognomy in a new institutional order. Using an unadorned background and frontal posing, Dr. Diamond made portraits of his patients that direct attention to the face and hands of the sitter. Diamond claimed clinical photography aided his patients’ treatment, provided a record for  medical guidance and physiognomic analysis, and offered a means of identification. Believing that mental states are manifested in the physiognomy and that photographs are objective representations of reality, he saw photography as a method of securing “with unerring accuracy the external phenomena of each passion.”38

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French neurologist Guillaume-Benjamin Duchenne de Boulogne’s (1806–1875)  Mécanisme de la physionomie humaine  (The Mechanism of human facial expression, 1862) is one of the first medical books to be illustrated with over 100 tipped-in albumen prints. Using electrophysiology (medical therapy using electric currents), Duchenne stimulated the facial muscles of his subjects with electrodes, trying to elicit expressions tied to specific emotions, and then photographed the outcomes. Influenced by physiognomy, Duchenne believed the human face could be organized into classifications that represented interior states of being, giving access to the soul. This first study on the physiology of emotion so impressed Charles Darwin that he corresponded with Duchenne and reproduced some of his photographs in his own publication, The Expression of Emotion in Man and Animals (1872). Photography began to be incorporated into the activities of institutions concerned with observing and controling behavior.  Thomas John Barnardo (1845–1905), who in 1871 founded the “Home for Destitute Lads,” established a photographic department in 1874 and hired East End studio photographer Thomas John Barnes (1801– 1901) to photograph the destitute children. The studio produced some 55,000 isolated portraits between 1874 and 1905 in order “to obtain and retain an exact likeness of each child and enable them, when it is attached to his history, to trace the child’s career.”40 Individual dossiers containing a portrait, personal history, and statistics were prepared for each child. Albums were made up to show to parents, police, and visitors. Before and after pictures were commissioned, purporting to show children arriving in a motley state and then cleaned and industrious under the presumed guidance of the Home. Barnardo was brought to court on charges of capitalizing on the children by putting them into fictitious settings and altering their appearance to benefit his fundraising operations. Nowadays, however, some charities still appeal for

DR. HUGH WELCH DIAMOND. Patient, Surrey County Lunatic Asylum, circa 1850–1855. 7 3⁄16 x 51⁄16 inches. Albumen silver print from glass negative. Diamond described himself as a metaphysician who believed he could witness and trace the connection between the visible and the invisible. Photography seemed to be a mechanism that could produce faithful records whose authenticity could be certified by the institutions of power and control that made them. As the British medical journal Lancet proclaimed: “Photography is so essentially the Art of Truth—and representative of Truth in Art—that it would seem to be the essential means of reproducing all forms and structures of which science seeks for delineation.”39 COURTESY  The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, Gilman Collection, 2005.

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G. B. DUCHENNE DE BOULOGNE. Mecanisme de la physionomie humaine ou analyse electro-physiologique de l’expression des passions, 1862. 10 7⁄8 × 7½ inches. Albumen print from glass negative. Duchenne de Boulogne’s photographs are paradoxical in nature as they endeavor to accurately depict human emotions through the artificial means of electrophysiology.

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THOMAS JOHN BARNES (Attributed to). No. 35, Buy Daily News or Echo! (The same lad as on card No. 36.) and No. 36, Going to Sunday School, circa 1872. Albumen print cabinet cards. The before and after photographic tactics used by Dr. Thomas John Barnardo have caused contemporary pundits, such as John Tagg, to critique how photography had been deployed as “a means of surveillance.” Tagg wrote: “We have begun to see a repetitive pattern: the body isolated; the narrow space; the subjection to an unreturnable gaze; the scrutiny of gestures, faces and features; the clarity of illumination and sharpness of focus; the names and number boards. These are the traces of power, repeated countless times, whenever the photographer prepared an exposure, in police cell, prison, consultation room, asylum, Home or school.”41 COURTESY  Barnardo Photographic Archive, Essex, England.

contributions using picture/text combinations that convert the bodies of those being observed into advertising commodities. This push for cataloging and standardizing society along the scientific model, through the tenets of Positivism, found a willing partner in photography’s encyclopedic impulse.42  The idea of truth in

the optical and chemical processes of photography was often in direct contradiction with the ideal of photographers who sought to discover artistic truth beneath the veneer of reality. The jockeying for position between these two practices continues to divide the profession and the public over photography’s role in society.43

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The Photographic News, vol. 5, no. 152 (August 1861), 370, reported that the 1841 census did not list photography as a profession. Ten years later, 51 photographers were recorded; by 1861 there were 2,879. In 1851, a Miss Wigley was the only woman professional; ten years later there were 204 women. In 1861, no fewer than 33,000 Parisians claimed to make their living from photography. See Newton’s influential article reprinted in Andrew E. Hershberger, ed.,  Photographic Theory: An Historical  Anthology  (Boston, MA and Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell, 2014), 56–58. For additional readings on these questions, see also the related articles in Photographic Theory’s subsections on “Art/History” and “What Should Photographs Look Like?” on pp. 55–66, 155–68, 201–24, 389–406, 113–22 and 139–53 respectively. Charles Baudelaire, “The Modern Public and Photography from The Salon of 1859.” Jonathan Mayne, trans. Reprinted in Alan Trachtenberg, ed.,  Classic Essays on Photography (New Haven, CT: Leete’s Island Books, 1980), 86–88. Elizabeth Eastlake, “Photography,”  Quarterly Review  [London], April 1857, 442–68. Reprinted in Newhall,  Photography: Essays & Images, 81–95. This quote appears on pp. 94–95. Hershberger, ed.,  Photographic Theory, also reprints Eastlake’s article on pp. 61–66, quote on p. 66. See Aaron Scharf,  Art and Photography  (London: Penguin, 1974) 149–54. Original sources are cited on p. 348. Photography: Essays & Images: Illustrated Readings in the History of Photography, Beaumont Newhall, ed. (New York: The Museum of Modern Art, 1980), 90. Also, Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 63–64. Abbozzo is Italian for sketch. In painting, it refers to the first outline or drawing on the canvas; also to the first underpainting. This remarkable photograph, like many in the George Eastman Museum collection, can be seen online: http:// eastmanhouse.tumblr.com/post/45837642436/unidentified-photographer-girl-and-dog-ca (accessed Aug. 18, 2015). Most American photographers of this time had to rely on photographic trade magazines to communicate, as only a handful of photo clubs emerged in the States before the advent of the hand camera and sufficient numbers of amateur photographers in the 1880s. The few early

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American clubs include the Amateur Photographic Exchange Club and Photographic Society of Philadelphia, both of which were founded in the 1860s. APEC lasted only a few years, while Photographic Society of Philadelphia is still active. See: John Hannavy (ed.), Encyclopedia of Nineteenth-Century Photography (New York & London: Routledge, 2008), 992. There is no record of these women’s involvement with photography after 1857. The photographers who had work selected sent the negative and the club printed an edition. The elaborate, polished leather-bound albums contained lustrously printed images on albumen paper, as there was not an effective way to print the photographs on an ink press. Examples can be seen in the George Eastman Museum Collection. According to Edward Wakeling, former chairman of the Lewis Carroll Society in the United Kingdom, only about 1 percent of Carroll’s photographic production involved such images. See Edward Wakeling,  The Photographs of Lewis Carroll: A Catalogue Raisonné (Austin, TX: University of Texas Press, 2015), 6–7, 301. See Robert Douglas-Fairhurst, The Story of Alice (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2015). The art world’s conflicted acceptance of, and resistance to, photography continues well into the twentieth century. See the debates within the articles under the repeated subheading “Art/History” in Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 55–66, 155–68, 201–24, and 389–406. O. G. Rejlander, “On Photographic Composition with a Description of Two Ways of Life,”  The Photographic Journal, vol. IV, no. 65 (April 21, 1858), 191–96. Humphrey’s Journal of Photography, vol. 9, no. 6 ( July 15, 1857), 92–93. Unknown author, “Fifth Annual Photographic Exhibition,” Art Journal, April 1, 1858, 120–21. Questions and debates about the “nature” of photography started around the time of the medium’s invention in 1839, and they have continued unabated since then. In Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory see, for example: Rudolf Arnheim, “On the Nature of Photography” (1974), 264–68; Kendall L. Walton, “Transparent Pictures: On the Nature of Photographic Realism” (1984), 284–89; Douglas R. Nickel, “‘Impressed by Nature’s Hand’: Photography and Authorship” (2009), 399–405; and the various readings included under the repeated subheadings “What Is Photography?” and “What Is Digital Photography?”

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28 Julia Margaret Cameron, “The Annals of My Glass

work, they draped the unrespectable part of the composition. People were accustomed to seeing painted nudes that idealized the body and glossed over its reproductive parts, but few had seen photographs that presented the body in detail as it really is. Louis Figuier, La photographie au salon de 1859 (Paris, 1860), 14. Vicki Goldberg, ed., Photography in Print: Writing from 1816 to the Present  (Albuquerque, NM: University of New Mexico Press reprint 1988), 146. O.G. Rejlander, “What photography can do in art,” in The Year-Book of Photography and Photographic News Almanac, London 1867, p.50. Henry Peach Robinson,  The Elements of Pictorial Photography  (Bradford, England: Percy Lund & Co., Ltd., 1896), 102. See Henry Peach Robinson, Pictorial Effect in Photography, Preface, unp. Reprinted by Helios, Pawlet, VT, 1971, second impression 1972. Robinson’s highly controversial chapter on “Combination Printing” in Pictorial Effect in Photography (1869) has been reprinted in Hershberger, ed.,  Photographic Theory, 72–75, along with severe criticisms of it by Peter Henry Emerson, Berenice Abbott, and John Szarkowski, p. 72. Henry Peach Robinson,  Pictorial Effect in Photography  (London: Piper & Carter, 1869). This book’s publication record indicates the significance and acceptance of its concepts. British editions in 1869, 1879, 1881, 1893; American: 1881, 1892; French: 1885; German: 1886. The text was  based on the art education system of the Royal Academy and relied on Joshua Reynolds’s eighteenth-century  Discourses on Art  and John Burnet’s Treatise on Painting (1822). Unlike earlier texts, such as Disdéri’s  L’art de la photographie  (1862) and Marcus A. Root’s  The Camera and the Pencil  (1864), Robinson devoted most of his discussion to handling the figure in landscape rather than to the making of studio portraits. Robinson, Pictorial Effect, 198. See A. D. Coleman’s “Return of the Suppressed/Pictorialism’s Revenge,” Border Crossings, vol. 27, no. 4 (2008), 72–79. Julia Margaret Cameron to Sir John Herschel, December 31, 1864, collection of the Royal Society of London, quoted in full in Colin Ford,  The Cameron Collection: An Album of Photographs by Julia Margaret Cameron  (London: Van Nostrand Reinhold with the National Portrait Gallery, 1975), 140–41.

House,” 1874, Photo Beacon (Chicago) 2 (1890), 157–60. Reprinted in Beaumont Newhall, ed., Photography: Essays & Images  (New York: Museum of Modern Art, 1980), 136. Or Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 78. See Robin Kelsey, “Julia Margaret Cameron Transfigures the Glitch” in Photography and the Art of Chance (Cambridge, MA: Belknap Press, 2015), 66–101. Unknown author, “Fine Arts,” Illustrated London News 44 (March 19, 1864), 275. Cameron, “The Annals of My Glass House” as reprinted in Newhall,  Photography: Essays & Images, 137. Cameron’s influential article has also been reprinted in Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 76–79, quote on 77–78. See Joanne Lukitsh,  Cameron: Her Work and Career (Rochester: International Museum of Photography at George Eastman House, 1986), 29. Brooks Atkinson, ed.,  The Selected Writing of Ralph Waldo Emerson (New York: Modern Library, 1940), 6. See: “Spiritualism Exposed: Margaret Fox Kane Confesses Fraud,” Skeptic Report, November 1, 2005. www. skepticre-port.com/sr/?p=579 This article appeared originally in the newspaper  The New York World, on October 21, 1888. Stories later surfaced that Mumler hired a man to remove photographs of deceased relatives from homes, bring them to Mumler to be copied, and then return the pictures. This agent then directed the relatives to Mumler’s studio, where through a combination of double exposure and manipulation Mumler produced the desired results—a spirit image of their dead loved one. Many people thought Mumler was legitimate. Mary Todd Lincoln visited Mumler’s studio and came away with a photograph of a ghostlike Lincoln standing behind his widow, his hands upon her shoulders. For more on Mumler see Louis Kaplan, The Strange Case of William Mumler, Spirit Photographer  (Albuquerque, NM: University of New Mexico Press, 2008). For more on the roles women played in spirit photography see: Felicity Tsering Chödron Hamer, “Helen F. Stuart and Hannah Frances Green: The Original Spirit Photographer,” History of Photography, vol. 42, no. 2 (2018), 146‒67. See: www.tandfonline.com/ doi/abs/10.1080/03087298.2018.1498491?journalCode=thph20lume 42, 2018 For more on this subject see: Efram Sera-Shriar, Psychic Investigators: Anthropology, Modern Spiritualism, and

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Credible Witnessing in the Late Victorian Age (Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh Press, 2022). The Photographic Journal, vol. 3, no. 44 ( July 21, 1856), 88–89. This is a summary of Diamond’s paper “On the Application of Photography to Physiognomic and Mental Phenomena of Insanity.” The Lancet, January 22, 1859, 89, quoted in S. L. Gilman, ed., “Hugh W. Diamond and Psychiatric Photography,” The Face of Madness (Secaucus, NJ: Brunner-Mazel, 1976), 5. Quoted in Valerie Lloyd and Gillian Wagner,  The Camera and Dr. Barnardo  (Hertford: Barnardo School of Printing, 1974), 14. John Tagg, “A Means of Surveillance” in The Burden of Representation: Essays on Photographies and Histories (Minneapolis, MN: University of Minnesota Press, 1993), 87. For more on photographic surveillance see: Allan Sekula, “The Body and the Archive” in  October  39 (Winter 1986): 3–64. This ongoing conflict may be most especially intense and interesting at the intersections of art and photojournalism. See, for example, Fred Ritchin, “Photojournalism in the Age of Computers” (1990) and Liam Kennedy, “Remembering September 11: Photography as Cultural Diplomacy” (2003) in Hershberger, ed.,  Photographic Theory, 329–33 and 415–20 respectively.

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The Travelling Camera: Photography and Landscape

THE DEMAND FOR THE WONDERFUL

with a decided attention on landscape photography, emerged as a product for consumption. Whereas the Pre-Raphaelite painters struggled for photographic accuracy, many people took pleasure in an otherwise simple photograph’s ability to let them count every brick in a wall. In Modern Painters (5 volumes, 1843–1860), John Ruskin (1819–1900) reveled in photography’s ability to preserve evidence:

By the mid-1850s, the practice of commercial photography was established to satisfy the demand for architectural wonders, works of engineering and industry, and scenic views. This new class of photographers specialized in the mechanical style, one that required a virtuoso technical performance featuring maximum detail and sharpness. Accurate and affordable pictorial records were now available in a manner unimaginable fifteen years before.1 During the age of Western industrial development and colonial expansion, with its pocket watches, railroads, steamships, and the telegraph changing society’s sense of time and space, people believed that the machine’s ability to accurately perform repetitive tasks held the key to a better life. Photographers recognized the demand for accurate pictures of historic sites, and the latest technical improvement to the repertoire of processes, transparent collodion materials, was a way to meet this need—of bringing people closer to the world they wished to visit but lacked the means to do so. The collodion process’s increased sensitivity, retention of detail, and ease of reproduction made it, along with albumen paper prints, the new professional standard. Combined with the possibility of travel for those who could afford it, travel photography,

My drawings are truth to the very letter—too literal perhaps; so says my father, so says not the daguerreotype, for it beats me grievously. I have allied myself with it… It is certainly the most marvelous invention of the century; given us just in time to save some evidence from the great public of wreckers.2

The idea of seeing it all had immense appeal. This verbatim style of representation was labeled “mechanical-photography” by C. Jabez Hughes in order to distinguish it from art photography, whose purpose was aesthetic and personal. Hughes specified: I do not mean the term mechanical to be understood depreciatingly. On the contrary, I mean that everything that is to be depicted exactly as it is, and where all the parts are to be equally sharp and perfect, is to be included under this head. I might have used the term literal photography, but think the former better. This branch, for

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Three approaches to making travel pictures were established: amateur, official, and commercial. Talbot set the precedent for amateur travel pictures with his excursions to popular tourist destinations like Lake Como in Lombardy, Italy. Such images, embryonic snapshots, were done for personal satisfaction. Second, governments employed photographers to document official sites of interest. These images, of everything from historic monuments to railroad bridges, were seen by small, elite audiences and sometimes offered for sale in limited-edition albums of original prints. Finally, commercial photographers produced marketable images, such as of the pyramids in Egypt, as quickly and cheaply as possible. To get to out-of-the-way locations, these photographers outfitted wagons as traveling darkrooms, but they still needed darktents for pictures that were not being made close to the wagon. In the field, photographers relied on one-person tents, where they coated and processed the plates at folding tables in airless and odorous conditions. Water, if it was not readily available, had to be hauled. Since the wet plate lost sensitivity as it dried, it was inadvisable to pitch the dark-tent more than a three-minute walk or run from where the camera was set up. To make six successful exposures a day with this cumbersome process required hard work, skill, and luck, and quick exposures from multiple vantage points were rare. The amount of energy needed to make a view drove most photographers to select sites they knew would appeal to accepted notions of picture composition and subject matter, rather than try to discover innovative ways of depiction. Under these circumstances, the first photographic travels were launched.

obvious reasons, will always be the most practised; and where the literal unchallenged truth is required, is the only one allowable.3

Taking the wet plate collodion glass negative process out of the studio was not an impromptu affair, as its complicated preparation made field work problematic when compared with the much simpler paper negative or calotype process. Nevertheless, small wet plate stereographic cameras were utilized to make stereo cards, and exhibition prints were done with large, wooden folding cameras. Cameras with flexible, corrugated leather bellows that formed a light tight passageway between the lens and the film plate were slow to be adopted and often were not steady enough for long, windy, outdoor exposures. As enlarging was not yet feasible, a large picture meant a glass plate of 10 × 12 or 12 × 16 inches had to be exposed in order to make a contact print of the same size. A Scottish photographer recalled the ordeal of taking a large-format camera into the field: I reached the railway station with a cabload consisting of the following items: A 90 × 110 brass-bound camera weighing 21 lbs. A water-tight glass bath in wooden case holding over 90 ozs. of solution [silver nitrate] and weighing 12 lbs. A plate box with a dozen 90 × 110 [glass] plates weighing almost as many pounds. A box 240 × 180 × 120 inches into which were packed lenses, chemicals, and all the hundred-and-one articles [scale, measures, funnels, trays, fixer, and a pail for water] necessary for a hard day’s work, and weighing something like 28 lbs. The advent of folding tripods had not come [circa 1857], …  and so I had perforce to encumber myself with one that when closed looked like an Alpinestock over 5 ft. in length. It weighed about 5 lbs. Lastly, there was the tent, that made a most convenient darkroom, about 400 × 400 inches and 6½ ft. high, with ample table accommodation; the whole packed into a leather case and weighed over 40 lb…. We did not care to walk far.4

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documenting countries and their heritage A fascination with Egypt led French journalist Maxime Du Camp (1822–1894) on an extended photographic assignment to the Middle East from 1849 to 1852.5 Trained by Gustave Le Gray in the waxed calotype process for its field versatility, Du Camp took advantage of its improved clarity and made calotypes at the hours when the angle of light revealed the form and texture of the monuments. Du Camp favored including a human figure in his compositions as a scale reference. John Beasly Greene  (1832–1856), an American amateur archeologist who was born in Paris, also studied photography in Le Gray’s studio and utilized the calotype to record his explorations in Egypt. Greene’s peopleless calotypes  along the Nile interpret the desert environs by emphasizing space, often by allowing the sky to dominate the composition. With the calotype’s granular look, this strategy unified the space, giving the sky and water the same organization as the desert sands, reinforcing a feeling of dislocation and timelessness. In other photographs the subjects are composed to accentuate, rather than command, the extended horizon line. Greene’s minimalist sets his work apart from his contemporaries. In the spirit of documenting historical sites, the French Ministry of Public Instruction commissioned  Auguste Salzmann  (1824–1872) to photograph the remaining monuments of the Crusades erected by the Knights of the Order of St. John. Salzmann found such monuments in Crete, Cyprus, Jerusalem, and in the Greek island of Rhodes. While carrying out this work, Salzmann also photographed monuments of disputed attribution for the archeologist Louis-Félicien-Joseph Caignart de Saulcy. In 1853, Salzmann made waxed calotype negatives in support of de Saulcy’s theory that Jerusalem’s ancient monuments could be correctly re-dated by their physical construction. Done

MAXIME DU CAMP. Westernmost Colossus, the Great Temple, Abu Simbel, 1850. 815⁄16 x 6 3⁄8 inches. Salted paper print from a waxed calotype negative by L. D. Blanquart-Evrard. Plate 107 of the album Égypte, Nubie, Palestine et Syrie (Paris, 1852). Du Camp’s work was published in several volumes by BlanquartEvrard. One of the first and most profusely photographically illustrated books issued in France, Égypte, Nubie, Palestine et Syrie (1852), contained 122 calotypes. Du Camp later founded the Revue de Paris, which featured works such as Flaubert’s Madame Bovary (1857). COURTESY  The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles, CA.

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JOHN BEASLY GREENE. Bank of Nile at Thebes, Village de Ghezireh, 1853–1854. 9 1⁄8 × 12 inches. Salted paper print from a waxed paper negative. In this ambiguous landscape Greene sacrifices information for pictorial effect. Nothing is clearly defined; everything is suggested. Greene’s work was also published by Blanquart-Evrard in an album Le Nil: Monuments, paysages, explorations photographiques (1854). COURTESY  The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles, CA

AUGUSTE SALZMANN. Jerusalem. Enceinte du Temple [Jerusalem Temple]. Vue générale de la face Sud 1, 1854. 9 3⁄16 × 13 inches. Salted paper print. Salzmann’s general views of Jerusalem’s ancient monuments rely on picturesque landscape models, favoring asymmetrical compositions that document the massive walls of the city. The soft, pencil-like quality of the salted-paper prints links the city with the site. Blanquart-Evrard printed the negatives and published this work as Jerusalem, époques judaïque, romaine, chrétienne, arabe, explorations photographiques par A. Salzmann (1854). COURTESY  The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles, CA.

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JOHN SHAW SMITH. Temples of Nubia, 1850‒1852. 6 7⁄8 × 8 15⁄16  inches. Calotype negative. George Eastman Museum, Rochester, NY.

in the instructional style of archeological illustration, Salzmann’s images go beyond the draftsman’s model, meditating on patterns created by the play of light and shadow. Most of the details are tightly composed from a centered, frontal point of view, relying on directional light to accent texture and focus attention on the masonry construction that was used to date most of the monuments. The unrelenting frontality solved the problems of depth-of-field associated with view cameras of the time. Specifically, Salzmann’s cameras lacked the necessary controls to adjust the front and back standards—swings and tilts—in order to make perspective corrections, and this flattened the image and emphasized line, mass, and pattern. This photographic way of seeing simplified and abstracted the close-up view while conveying a sense of the

heaviness of the stone structures.6  The calotype’s graininess and lack of shadow detail added a dark, foreboding atmosphere of mystery. The contrasty prints of this series created a visual sense of contradiction, presenting viewers with an unsolvable riddle, and implying that when these monuments were built wasn’t really what was most important about them. John Shaw Smith (1811–1873), an Irish amateur calotypist, took an extended grand tour of the Mediterranean, Egypt, and the Holy Land between 1850 and 1852. Exposing his paper negatives while they were damp to get maximum light sensitivity, Smith’s visual souvenirs show his understanding of the historic legends of these foreign locales.7  While mindful of the rules of conventional pictorial practice, Smith experimented with

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sequential viewpoints, such as circling St. Peter’s Square with his camera to create a panoramic effect. However, photography was in its infancy and did not have any rulebooks. When a problem was encountered, one had to be inventive and devise a solution. For instance, Smith blackened the sky portion of the negative with Japanese ink so that it printed clear paper-base white, without the calotype’s characteristic mottled effect. Smith further altered the photographic image by outlining objects along the horizon with ink on the negative or with pencil on the print, making them stand out against the sky. In other cases he eliminated unwanted objects, and sometimes he added clouds. Today we would refer to this as adding digital layers to the original capture. There were no tenets concerning purity of practice and Smith was willing to use the camera as a point of departure for his own interpretations, leaving visual evidence of an enterprising amateur spirit that helped define early practice. During his Grand Tour of 1850–1852, Smith produced one of the largest and best-documented bodies of calotype negatives covering Italy, Malta, Greece, Egypt, Palestine, and Syria. He typically made two photographs a day with an average

exposure time of five minutes. He would sensitize his Whatman’s paper in the morning and develop them in the evening. Almost 350 of his calotype negatives survive. By applying the latest wet plate methods to the landscape,  Francis Frith  (1822–1898) became a major publisher of English and European views, eventually boasting a stock of one million images sold in more than 2,000 shops. After traveling to Egypt, Syria, and Palestine, Frith boated through the dangerous white waters of the Nile, fought off wild dogs, battled bandits, encountered desert princes “blazing with jewelled-hilted swords and gold-mounted firearms,”8 and watched his collodion boil as he poured it onto his glass plates. Perhaps as a result of such hardships, Frith pioneered comprehensive coverage, often systematically photographing from a distance and then, from different angles, closer up, allowing the viewer to reconstruct the complete scene. His trademark composition juxtaposed human figures with giant statues, providing a sense of mass and scale. Frith’s status came from his numerous books, illustrated with mounted photographs and accompanied by descriptions and dialogue. In  Sinai and Palestine  (circa 1862), each

FRANCIS FRITH. The Great Pyramid and the Sphinx, 1858. 15 9⁄16 x 19 5⁄16 inches. Albumen silver print. The sheer amount of visual information available on the hard, smooth surface of Frith’s contact print, with its staggering shadow detail and creamy warm eggshell highlights, inspires viewers to learn more about the mysteries of the pyramids. In his publications like Lower Egypt, Thebes and the Pyramids (circa 1862), Frith also provides solid facts—the largest pyramid is 746 feet along each side of its base, is 450 feet high, and covers about 12 acres—as if they would somehow give insight into these enigmatic structures. Then Frith reveals the conflict the Sphynx creates for his picturesque ideals: “The profile, as given in my view, is truly hideous. I fancy that I have read of its beautiful calm, majestic features; let my reader look at it, and say if he does not agree with me, that it can scarcely have been, even in its palmiest days, otherwise than exceeding ugly.” COURTESY  The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles, CA.

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large albumen print was accompanied by captioned facts and commentary to coach the viewer to the same conclusions as the maker. The text accompanying The Sphynx and Great Pyramid, Geezeh reads: The day and hour in a man’s life upon which he first obtains a view of “The Pyramids,” is a time to date from for many a year to come; he is approaching, as it were, the presence of an immortality which has mingled vaguely with his thoughts from very childhood, and has been to him unconsciously an essential beautiful form, and the most majestic mystery ever created by man.

In an era before mass-produced picture book production, Frith’s books stand out for allowing the subject to control the format.  Cairo, Sinai, Jerusalem and the Pyramids of Egypt (circa 1860) had 16 × 20-inch views on 21 × 29-inch pages; such large prints conveyed the grand sense of contrast, space, and texture of the scenes depicted. Frith’s Upper Egypt and Ethiopia (1863), with its oversized pages, leather binding, gold leafing, and marbleized endpapers, is an objet d’art. After Frith completed his Near East tours, he hired photographers to make views of Europe, Great Britain, and America, utilizing the principles of industrial standardization to produce workmanlike, topographical portfolios. These images reflected the new photographic axiom that to see all was to know all. This industrious output sums up the ideal of “mechanical picturesque” photography, and F. Frith & Co. became England’s largest supplier of architectural views, landscapes, and postcards.9 Frith & Co. continued to operate and sell postcards until 1971. Robert Macpherson (1815–1872) took up photography in 1851 to sell tourists views of classical Roman sites. In 1856 Macpherson began making carefully composed, large wet plates (from 12 × 16 inches to 18 × 22 inches) of cultural emblems from his travels around Italy. These refined views culminated in the publication of a Vatican guidebook in 1863, illustrated with Macpherson’s photographs

ROBERT MACPHERSON. Moses by Michelangelo, circa 1850s. 15 3⁄16 x 12 3⁄8 inches. Albumen silver print. MacPherson’s precise delineation and feeling for chiaroscuro elaborate the majesty of the ancient ruins and provide an experience of the place, leading the Art Journal to say: “You are struck with surprise at seeing so much that you never saw before… In the light and shade of these ruins there is a sentiment which, with the stern truth of the photograph, affects the mind more deeply than a qualified essay in painting.”10 COURTESY  The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles, CA.

of over 300 sculptures. Commercial photographers like Macpherson had an extensive, well-organized, and ongoing dialogue with tourists, and they delivered views that met the travelers’ expectations of souvenirs to share with their friends. While a small band of photographers and advocates struggled to win a place for photography in the art world (including Francis Frith11), its topographic applications had the greatest impact on visual literacy. European commercial photographers, such as

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FRATELLI ALINARI (GIUSEPPE and LEOPOLDO ALINARI]. Leaning Tower of Pisa, circa 1850s. 16¾ × 12¾ inches. Albumen silver print. The practice of organizing groups of photographs around a theme reflects the narrative tradition that expects pictures to tell stories, a ritual reinforced by picture magazines. The Alinaris understood these expectations and capitalized on them in creating their catalog of Italy, founded on their aim to portray “Bella Italia.” The company is still a major photographic publisher of illustrative material with an archive of over 200,000 negatives that is available online at: www.alinari.it/en/ COURTESY  The J. Paul Getty Museum,

Los Angeles, CA.

James Anderson (1813–1877), realized that accurate reproduction of artwork could increase the circulation of culturally significant subjects and be profitable as well. In the 1850s, photographers commenced publishing photographic prints of Western art masterpieces, establishing the photograph’s role as the provider of visual artifacts and making it indispensable for the study of art history to the

present day. Even those who said photography was not art heralded its use for chronicling art works. It allowed people to become familiar with masterworks without having to travel to them, which could inspire their spirit, cultivate their taste, and assist in daily aesthetic decision making.12 Leopoldo Alinari (1832–1865) opened his first studio in 1859 and was joined two years later by his

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brothers Giuseppe (1836–1890) and Romualdo (1830–1890) to form “Fratelli Alinari, Fotografi Editori.” Relying on standard, straightforward rules of composition, the Alinari brothers made unequivocal documents of Italian architecture, art, and landscape, conveying the Romantic look and myth of Italy to the world. The Alinaris understood the public’s visual expectations and supplied the market with art reproductions and stereocards. In the 1870s, they hired photographers to follow the firm’s prescribed practices for chronicling the cities and art treasures of Italy. Thus photographic style began to move from the idiosyncratic characteristics of individual  photographers to an industrial/corporate model that insisted on standardization. It is

from this corporate model of hiring people to work in a consistent manner that the Alinaris drew their effectiveness—the strength of numbers, with tourists being able to order views from a large catalog. They were a team with a collective point of view, whose patterned images were most effective when seen in organized sets. Louis-Auguste Bisson (1814–1876) opened a daguerrean portrait studio in Paris in 1841 with his brother, Auguste-Rosalie Bisson (1826–1900), after being introduced to the process by Daguerre himself. For over a decade the  Bisson Frères  produced craftsmanlike portraits of artists and political figures tailored to meet public demand. In 1851, they switched to the wet plate and expanded their

AUGUSTE-ROSALIE BISSON (BISSON FRÈRES). Ascent of Mont Blanc, 1861. 9 1⁄8 x 15 3⁄16 inches. Albumen silver print. The Bisson brothers’ alpine accomplishments resulted in a 24-photograph album, dedicated to the Emperor and Empress of France, featuring majestic views of glacial crevasses, ice, snowfields, and mountain tops. Ascent of Mont Blanc provides a sense of the sublime as the humans making their way through the snowfield appear as insects in this immense and alpine landscape. COURTESY  The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles, CA

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subject range. Since many people wanted to see the Alps, but only a few could afford the trip, the brothers used photography to vicariously fulfill this arduous desire. The Bissons failed in their ascent of Mont Blanc in 1860, but the following year Auguste made a second attempt, using a guide and 25 porters to haul his gear. On the third day, after a difficult and frigid climb, the Bisson party conquered the 16,000-foot peak. A darkroom tent was set up and three 8 × 10-inch plates were coated and exposed.13

The strenuous feats of the Bissons were a precursor to other professional photographers documenting notoriously grueling treks, like the quest to reach the South Pole at the start of the twentieth century.  Herbert Ponting  (1870–1935), who referred to himself as a “camera artist,” was the expedition photographer and cinematographer for Robert Falcon Scott’s disastrous Terra Nova Expedition to the Ross Sea and South Pole (1910– 1913). Using glass plates, Ponting made over 1,000 mainly posed images in harshly dangerous conditions that included the use of flash and Autochrome color plates. The expedition crewmembers jokingly referred to posing for his impeccably arranged photographs as “ponting.” These highly ordered compositions influenced James Francis “Frank” Hurley (1885–1962) who photographed and filmed Ernest Shackleton’s Imperial Trans-Antarctic Expedition (1914–1917). Ponting’s work exemplifies purposeful images that depict this sublime landscape and the men who attempted to surmount this fierce terrain during the heroic age of Antarctic exploration.

DEPICTING INDUSTRIALIZATION The industrialization of society posed problems for romantically trained photographers, who attempted to impose picturesque ideals onto man-made landscapes. As photographers gained experience, new treatments for photographing industrial settings evolved. Relying on the transparent glass negative and its companion glossy albumen paper, photographers abandoned the notion of suggestion in favor of a strategy in which they specified everything, shifting the budding, individualistic documentary style from allusion to machinelike utilitarianism. Following the Great Exhibition of 1851, Philip Henry Delamotte  (1820–1889) was commissioned to document the dismantling of London’s

HERBERT G. PONTING. Grotto in an Iceberg with the Terra Nova in the Background, 1911. 29 3⁄8 x 21 1⁄8 inches. Carbon print. Ponting captured the Terra Nova from inside a grotto that was formed by an iceberg as it turned over, carrying a large floe that froze onto it. Ponting was amazed by the colors of the ice inside this ice grotto, which were a mix of blues, purples, and greens.

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PHILIP HENRY DELAMOT TE. Egyptian Court Crystal Palace. Tropical Transept. Aboosimbel Figures, circa 1854. 9½ × 7 5⁄8 inches. Albumen silver print. Delamotte presents an interior view of the Crystal Palace at Sydenham Hill, depicting two enormous Egyptian-style sculptures, surrounded by multiple reproductions of the Sphinx, and luxuriant plants.

Crystal Palace in Hyde Park and its subsequent reconstruction at Sydenham. He photographed the site weekly for three years (1851–1854), from its inception through the installation of exhibits, eventually publishing an album, Photographic Views of the Progress of the Crystal Palace (1855). At a site dedicated to new commercial products, Delamotte juxtaposed the repetition of the iron against the geometric rhythms of the arched roof frame. This sense of uniformity was an exemplary metaphor for the Iron Age, venerating engineering feats in duality.

The divergence between the archaic, heavy, handmade, stone construction and the new, modern, light, delicate, and airy machine methods of  glass and iron becomes unmistakably apparent within Delamotte’s images of the recreated Crystal Palace. During the 1850s, the camera was used to chronicle feats of mechanization. The partnership of Cundall & Howlett photographed the building of a huge coal-driven steamship, the  Great Eastern.14  Joseph Cundall (1818–1895), who favored compositions showing the entire ship,

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ROBERT HOWLET T. The Steamship “The Great Eastern” Being Built in the Docks at Millwall, 1857. 83⁄16 x 105⁄16 inches. Albumen silver print. In this composition Howlett cropped out the bulk of the vessel and positioned the camera upward so that the hull towers over the viewer, making the ship appear to be enormous. The gentlemen in the top hats provide a sense of scale, giving the sensation that humans are inconsequential. Howlett’s use of backlighting and tight framing delivers the impression that the ship goes on indefinitely. COURTESY  The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles, CA.

produced most of the early construction photographs, including two-plate panoramas that reveal a giant, ugly, hulking shape. Robert Howlett (1831– 1858) covered the remaining stages of production by photographing what he saw, rather than contriving situations. Instead of presenting the entire boat, Howlett made tighter compositions that emphasized the ship’s imposing proportions. Through his fresh approaches to daily industrial activities, Howlett raised the issue of which approach should be the standard for documentary camera work: one that depicts as much of a subject as possible, or one that only shows a selected portion? Nineteenth-century photographers like Howlett attempted to resolve the issue of where the

perimeters of their composition lay, and what could be subtracted from the scene while maintaining pictorial integrity. Portrait photographers used neutral backdrops, vignettes, and oval-shaped overmats to obliterate everyday detritus and offer an artistic setting for the sitter. Landscape photographers borrowed the painterly device of including deep shadows along the periphery to keep the eye from wandering outside of the frame. Architectural photographers established points of view from a distance, making a structure appear to be naturally incorporated into  its surroundings. Many workaday commercial photographers nonchalantly placed their subject in the middle of the frame and let the edges fall where they may, accounting for much of

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CAMILLE SILVY. River Scene, la Vallée de l’Huisne, France, 1858 (print: 1860s). 10 1⁄8 × 14 inches. Albumen silver print. COURTESY  The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles, CA.

the perfunctory architectural and travel work of the 1860s and 1870s. The precise orderliness of the railroads and their industrial paraphernalia altered the landscape, making them sites for photography’s developing documentary style. Edouard Baldus’s visual affidavits, such as the album  Chemin de Fer du Nord, ligne de Paris à Boulogne (The Northern Railway Line from Paris to Boulogne), celebrate the building of Baron James de Rothschild’s railway lines in France in 1855 and 1859. His images embrace the apparent rational, visual logic of the wet plate process to ponder the illusion of symmetry produced by the repetition of industrial shapes. Baldus’s depictions transcend their utilitarian origins and furnish visual

gratification in a formal pictorial poetry of light, shape, and line. Most of the early railroad views explore a fascination with the regulated, geometric design elements that made up these machined constructions, focusing on the product and not on the human conditions surrounding their construction. Leisure time expanded in the nineteenthcentury industrial society.  Camille Silvy’s (1834– 1910)  River Scene, France, presents “uncelebrated” people relaxing at a place where urban and country values intersect—the river. Constructed from two negatives, one for the  land and another for the sky, and reworked with ink and pencil for pictorial effect, Silvy printed a number of renditions. Some he created dark and moody, others he left light

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SAMUEL BOURNE. Spiti: The Manirang Pass, Elevation 18,600 feet, 1866. 9 5⁄16 x 111⁄16 inches. Albumen silver print. COURTESY  The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles, CA.

and open, demonstrating how the maker’s hand affected the depicted landscape’s tenor and the aesthetic results in any photographic printmaking. The success of Silvy’s picturesque composition lies in its binary nature. From top to bottom, the river mirrors the sky and makes an affable connection. From left to right, an affluent couple can be seen in a boat, commanding the water, juxtaposed with the land-bound working people who admire the water from the bank. The scene instructs us on Romantic aspirations

concerning beauty, its rejuvenating benefits, and the moral uplift possible from the natural world. One of the ways people used their newfound leisure time was by looking at sites they were unable to visit in person. Western interest in the British colony of India led to an outpouring of photographically illustrated albums and books starting in the 1860s and 1870s.  Samuel Bourne  (1834–1912) arrived in Simla, India, in 1863 and swiftly formed a partnership with Charles Shepherd, the owner

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LÁLÁ DEEN DAYAL. Gateway, Faluknuma Palace, 1888. 8 1⁄8 x 10 11⁄16 inches. Gelatin silver print. Indian photographer Lálá Deen Dayal (1844–1905] started working about 1870, becoming the official photographer to the sixth Nizam (ruler) of Hyderabad and later to the Viceroy of India. In his Indian Ancient Architecture Album (1893), symmetrical landscape compositions and effective use of light create a sense of timelessness. Dayal’s photography business is still run by his descendants today (www.deendayal.com). COURTESY  The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles, CA.

URBAN LIFE John Thomson  (1837–1921) moved to East Asia in 1862 and commenced ten years of photographing China, Cambodia, Formosa [Taiwan], Siam, and Vietnam. His topographic and ethnographic studies of native cultures, published as albums, recorded vanishing civilizations and made him a progenitor of early social documentation and travel. Thomson journeyed into remote tropical areas to survey “principal antiquities” like the temple at Angkor Wat, resulting in his first album, The Antiquities of

of the  oldest Anglo-Indian photographic firm and leading provider of Indian views. Bourne became a tireless traveler who journeyed in India, Burma, Ceylon, and Kashmir. His daring undertakings culminated in 1868 with views made in the Himalayas at 18,600 feet. Bourne, a former banker, exposed meticulous images in regions where no Europeans had previously gone, during trips that lasted up to nine months (in 1864), or that required up to sixty local bearers (in 1868) to transport his equipment.15

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JOHN THOMSON. The Crawlers, 1877, from Street Life in London, 1877. 4 9⁄16 x 3 7⁄16 inches. Woodburytype. The crawlers “are old women reduced by vice and poverty to that degree of wretchedness which destroys even the energy to beg.”16 They were so feeble from hunger and lack of sleep that they crawled on their hands and knees to get their primary form of sustenance, bread and hot water for tea. The crawler in this photograph was keeping a baby while its mother worked in a coffee shop. COURTESY  The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles, CA.

Cambodia (1867). His Asian voyages culminated in the four-volume work Illustrations of China and Its People (1873–1874), which contained 200 tipped-in albumen prints. Thomson selected subjects of colonial interest by spotlighting social customs and distinctive types of people who fit into recognizable

Victorian social types. Thomson accompanied these photographs with a text partly based on phrenology, a pseudoscience that alleged a person’s character could be determined by examining the outer surface of their head.17 In his introduction, Thomson wrote that he “frequently enjoyed the reputation of being a

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dangerous geomancer, and my camera was held to be a dark mysterious instrument, which combined with my naturally, or supernaturally, intensified eyesight gave me power to see through rocks and mountains, to pierce the very souls of the natives.” His encyclopedic enterprise abroad helped formulate a Western style of typecasting, and it foreshadowed his later celebrated work, Street Life in London (1877). Thomson’s Street Life in London (1877),18 co-created with writer Adolphe Smith, harnesses the photograph to a social reform agenda. The introduction states: “The unquestionable accuracy of this testimony will enable us to present true types of the London Poor and shield us from the accusation of either underrating or exaggerating individual peculiarities of appearance.”19  Thomson’s previous experiences taught him how to pose people in an unrehearsed manner, to picture trades practiced by working people: street doctors, flower sellers, public disinfectors.  Street Life, issued in serial form, contains thirty-six  Woodburytypes20  from photographs “taken from life” Thomson made to illustrate Smith’s dramatic and moralistic text. Smith’s short, detailed pieces were based on his interviews with a wide range of men and women who eked out a precarious and marginal existence working on the streets of London. This format helped establish the social documentation practice of linking image and text to deliver authenticity and guided meaning. Smith wanted the episodes to increase middle-class sensitivity to the dilemmas of the urban poor and make the middle classes more willing to improve working-class living conditions. The project had at least one tangible result: the construction of an embankment to stop the flooding on the Thames River that had been plaguing London’s poor. As urban renewal projects got underway in Paris, London, and Glasgow, photographic surveys were organized to record the doomed historical architecture (see Chapter 4). In 1868 and again in 1877, the Glasgow Improvement Trust commissioned the Scottish photographer  Thomas Annan  (1829–1887)

THOMAS ANNAN. Old Vennel Off High Street (#2), 1868. 10 7⁄8 × 9 inches. Photogravure. The lack of detail in the people standing along the walls takes away their individuality. The long exposure produced ghostly figures, which imply that this unhealthy environment can distort life. The laundry hanging from rundown buildings and the waste water running in an open sewer ditch convey a depressing, claustrophobic feeling of a worn, medieval stone city.

to document the buildings and streets of the city.21 Often depicting unsavory, narrow passageways or “closes” between multistoried buildings, the first part of his assignment appeared as albumen prints in 1868 and later as photogravures in Old Closes and Streets of  Glasgow  (1900). Annan’s images “afford a peep into dark and dismal dens unvisited by the great purifying agencies of sun and wind, and in surveying them, we instinctively feel that human life born, bred, or led within their shades is sorely handicapped, and that the day of their extinction is more than due.”22

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Although Annan did not concentrate on people and the project’s aim was romantic and sentimental rather than reformist, his attention to light and shadow reveals the dark tactile sensations of dampness and slime that together comprise the unsanitary character of the buildings inhabited by the working poor. Annan’s gloomy, realistic depiction of inner city slums, rarely encountered in British art, can be seen as a reflection of a God-fearing capitalist’s

obligation to care for those who labor for society. The work helped to establish an urban documentary style and can be linked with John Thomson and the later work of Jacob A. Riis and Eugène Atget.

THE OTHER Picture/text combinations allow us to more accurately decipher how photographers contextualize their subjects. Contemporary postcolonial cultural critics, such as Edward W. Said (Orientalism, 1978), have argued that Western societies have systematically misrepresented non-Western peoples as  exotically the Other  in order to achieve cultural, economic, and political dominance. In various contexts, the concept of the Other refers to varied groups including women, people of color, inhabitants of the Global South, LGBTQ+, or any groups of people who have traditionally been denied societal power. Western depictions often fail to grant the Other the same humanity and psychological complexity as their male European counterparts.  Others  are viewed as static objects rather than active subjects who possess the same desires and needs as the viewer. Adherence to these Other-ing traditions makes up the foundation of Western prejudice and its psychic armament against understanding those who are different from the mainstream culture. Control of production and distribution allows dominant societies to regulate history and its interpretation. In Culture and Imperialism (1993) Said critiques the Western military, media, and consumer cultures that have been used to erase native values. Said maintains such policies are counter-productive because they give rise to virulent forms of anti-imperialism, including fundamentalism, nativism, terrorism, and ethnic identity politics.23

JOHN H. FITZGIBBON. Kno-Shr, Kansas Chief, 1853. 7 1⁄16 x 5 13⁄16 inches. Daguerreotype. From 1846 to 1860, John Fitzgibbon (1816–1882) operated a prominent daguerreian establishment in the frontier city of Saint Louis, Missouri. This daguerreotype of Kno-Shr, a Kansa tribe, portrays a Native American before assimilation. The chief is shown bare-chested, wearing a traditional grizzly bear claw necklace, a coveted Plains Indian body ornament. Several details are handcolored with red paint, the color of strength and success. COURTESY  The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.

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THE AMERICAN WEST: THE NARRATIVE AND THE SUBLIME

therefore an escape from enclosure into a wide-open space seemingly without history, or a dynamic force of physical and transcendental freedom, waiting for someone to act upon it. The American spirit was not housed in a cathedral but within people who believed that spiritual growth necessitated breaking free from society’s constrictions and moving instead toward purifying solitude, toward nature, toward Walden: “I go and come with a strange liberty in nature,”24  said naturalist writer Henry David Thoreau. The West combined these mythic ideals of American exceptionalism, a contract with nature that distrusted authority and strove for dignity through

At the end of the Civil War, the war between the states over slavery, part of America’s attention shifted from pessimistic devastation to the optimistic development of its Western frontier regions. Western society saw the American West, unlike  Europe, as not having a fixed culture, despite the longstanding presence of Native Americans. Its perceived attraction was that no culture, group, or government had an established hegemony over others. The West was

ANDREW J. RUSSELL. Trestle Work, Promontory Point, Salt Lake Valley, circa 1868–1869, from Sun Pictures of Rocky Mountain Scenery, 1868. 10 × 13 inches. Albumen silver print. Andrew J. Russell painted panoramas before documenting the Civil War and the construction of the Union Pacific Railroad during 1868–1870. Russell replicated the panorama’s narrative, linear approach in his railroad pictures, accounting for one section of track after the next, hardly getting out of sight of the rails. The photographers accompanying the government surveys, traveling along invisible meridian and parallel lines, labeled their prints with their precise locations. Russell not only documented the joining of the rails but also the engineering accomplishments of a multinational work crew composed largely of Chinese immigrants. The appendages of the steam locomotive, tracks, trestles, and water towers added new elements into the natural landscape and became popular subjects in literature and painting. COURTESY  Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division, Washington, D.C.

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performance based on self-reliance. In the West, the easterner was a comic character encumbered with useless knowledge and too bogged down by theory to act. The completion of the transcontinental railroad, connecting the east and west coasts in 1869, further established the West as an economic site for government-planned programs of expansion and settlement that outwardly displayed the restless American spirit. The railroads hired artists, photographers, and writers to produce narratives and informational stories (propaganda, in fact) designed to excite would-be settlers, travelers, investors, and the public about the region’s potential. They were assigned to replace the supposed vacancy of the Great American Desert with promotional images of an Eden-like farmland that would convince viewers to commit their families and savings, sight unseen, to a landscape pictured in a book.25 These storytellers relied on the  Manifest Destiny  theme, the duty and the right of the United States to expand its territory and influence throughout North America, reflecting a can-do resourcefulness in a time of rising population and deepening recession. Manifest Destiny provided a rationalization for the westward expansion of American civilization that would dominate this intercultural contact zone, conquering the wilderness and its native peoples. It all occurred in front of a backdrop of Romanticism that portrayed the sublime grandeur of nature, particularly the mountains, as evidence of the role a supreme deity played in the Creation. Public curiosity and tall tales about the West fueled demand for photographic documents that constructed an emblematic narrative landscape of accomplishments: gorges bridged, mountains tunneled, and nature subjugated. Photography had to compete with the size, symbols, and dramatic license of artists who were the principal Western storytellers for a public expecting  to be both entertained and informed. George Catlin (1796–1872) staged theatrical presentations of his paintings of Native Americans in the

1830s and followed them with his “Indian Gallery,” designed for European audiences, which featured artifacts and live Native peoples. During the 1850s, magic lantern shows accompanied by narrative dialogue became popular. Words enabled storytellers to take even inconsequential photographs and make them part of a larger tale. In the spirit of entertainment, information, and theater, painted panoramas, incorporating music and spoken narratives, became fashionable. The panorama’s sequential linear format was spatially suited for celebrating and documenting the expansive growth and prosperity of America’s vast, horizontal, western space.26 Clarence King’s (1842–1901) motives were not commercial but scientific and theological when he participated in and led geological and topographical expeditions in the American West. Profoundly interested in the relationship between God and geology, King rejected the prevailing belief,  uniformitarianism, that all geological functions took place slowly and evenly over time. Instead, King believed that periods of calm were interrupted by catastrophic intervals of what he called Divine Creation that compelled life forms to alter or perish.27 For King, geology offered a way to use scientific knowledge to confirm the Old Testament’s account of God’s violent creation of the world. As a supporter of John Ruskin’s belief in the symmetry of art and science, King also believed that artists should blend their capability to communicate with scientific observations about nature in order to transcend specific situations and to make universal statements. Much of nineteenth-century American landscape imagery was formulated on the model of the picturesque, the sublime, and the beautiful, dealing with the virtues of nature and its transcendental ramifications (see Chapter 3). The American West became the place where the hand of God could be best cherished in its authentic splendor. Expressions of most of these beliefs were disclosed in the images created by the photographers with whom King worked, including Carleton E. Watkins and Timothy H. O’Sullivan.

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After apprenticing with California photographic pioneers James Ford and Robert H. Vance and photographing mines and the Mission Santa Clara,  Carleton E. Watkins  (1829–1916) undertook his series of Yosemite views. Yosemite, the sublime dream place of Romantic painters, was discovered by white settlers in the early 1850s and became an organized tourist site by 1856. Charles Leander Weed (1825–1903) produced the first

known photographs that were published as woodcuts in four installments of “The Great Yo-semite Valley” in  Hutchings’ Illustrated California Magazine from October 1859 to March 1860.28 Following Ruskin’s precepts, Yosemite was considered to be a finished, natural work of art, and beginning with Weed, photographers confronted Yosemite with deliberate discretion and impeccable technique. Often using a mammoth plate camera

CARLETON E. WATKINS. Three Brothers, 4480 feet, circa 1865–1866. 163⁄16 x 209⁄16 inches. Albumen silver print. Watkins’s huge plates capture the detail and awe-inspiring scale and sublime potency of Yosemite, enabling photographers to compete with monumental landscape painters such as Albert Bierstadt, Frederick Church, and Thomas Moran. Watkins’s images helped to photographically establish the mountain landscape as an emblem of transcendental idealism by accentuating the energetic attributes of these formations. COURTESY  The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles, CA.

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(18 × 21 inches), which was part of the nearly 2,000 pounds of photographic equipment and flammable chemicals carried by mules, Watkins initiated the cardinal construct of American landscape photography: God was in the details, a concept that was brought to a climax a hundred years later by Ansel Adams’s immaculate prints. A virtuoso practitioner of the demanding wet-collodion process, Watkins’s large, toned albumen prints emphasize the abundant richness of highlight detail and they embellish the dark shadows and black tones as well, while adding contrast by dodging and/or burning so as to make the mountains appear to rise out of the background. Watkins countered the wet plate’s extra sensitivity to blue light by creating layered compositions that increase the illusion of depth. Utilizing compositional devices, especially rivers and streams that move through the photograph, Watkins leads the eye upward toward mountain peaks, adding to an image’s depth. Watkins favored dome-topped prints (rounded on the top corners) to hold the eye at the crest of the print. Aside from studying the established subject matter of painters, Watkins developed a formal voice for the unstructured Western landscape and its sense of space directly from natural sources, formulating a sophisticated practice that personified the artistic and societal values America desired to affirm. His dynamic, artistic portrayal of the incomparable Yosemite, informed by the romantic Hudson River Valley School, helped convince President Lincoln to sign a bill in 1864, at the height of the brutal Civil War, which declared the valley inviolate. In turn, this shaped the future framework for the United States National Park System with the goal of preserving parts of America’s wilderness to be shared with the entire republic. Unfortunately, much of his work was destroyed in the 1906 San Francisco earthquake. In 1867,  Timothy H. O’Sullivan  became the photographer for Clarence King’s Geological Explorations of the Fortieth Parallel. O’Sullivan’s views

mark a departure from representing nature as a place of salvation. O’Sullivan saw the West with “eastern” eyes, as a hostile place where one must struggle to survive. Whether this vision was influenced by the  horrors he had witnessed during the Civil War or by campfire talks with Clarence King, O’Sullivan presented the West in the ancient spirit of the sublime, as a place that is a mixture of astonishing, demanding, and terrifying. Although the purpose of the photographs was supposed to be scientific, O’Sullivan did not adhere to conventional straight presentations and it is now known that he intentionally tilted his camera to make some rock formations appear more menacing.29 In 1870, O’Sullivan was hired as the photographer for the Darien survey that attempted to determine a route for a canal across the Panamanian isthmus. In 1871, he commenced working with Lieutenant George M. Wheeler’s survey, which ascended the Colorado River through the Grand Canyon. He spent 1872 back with King’s survey and did his final field work again with Wheeler during the 1873 and 1874 seasons. Since the majority of O’Sullivan’s original prints were seen in albums by only a handful of key decision makers, they did not have a great influence on public perception or on photographic practice at that time. However, his images did become influential in the later second half of the twentieth century. In late 1880, O’Sullivan was appointed chief photographer for the U.S. Treasury Department. He succumbed to tuberculosis in early 1882. After serving in the Union Army,  William Henry Jackson  (1843–1942) opened a photographic studio in Omaha, Nebraska, in 1868, doing portraits and documenting the building of the Union Pacific Railroad. In 1870, Ferdinand V. Hayden, the director for the U.S. Geological and Geographical Survey of the Territories, hired Jackson as the official photographer of his survey team, enabling him to spend most of the summers of 1870 to 1879 making photographs in the field. In 1871, the Hayden team

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TIMOTHY H. O’SULLIVAN. Shoshone Falls, Snake River, Idaho, 1874. 7¾ x 10 5⁄8 inches. Albumen silver print. O’Sullivan’s views at the Falls of Shoshone speak of danger and the power of nature. His views of the vastness of the West embrace themes of isolation, silence, and solitude. O’Sullivan’s views point out the insignificance of people and reflect Clarence King’s writing: “No sheltering pine or mountain distance of uppiled [sic] Sierras guard the approach to the Shoshone. You ride upon a waste—the pale earth stretched in desolation. Suddenly, you stand upon a brink. As if the earth has yawned, black walls flank the abyss… You turn from the brink as from a frightful glimpse of the Inferno, and when you have gone a mile the earth seems to have closed again. Every trace of the cañon has vanished, and the stillness of the desert reigns.”30 COURTESY  Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division, Washington, D.C.

began to explore the bubbling mud pots, steaming geysers, exotically colored hot springs, and rushing waterfalls of Yellowstone. Using a mule named “Hypo” and a horse-drawn ambulance to haul his equipment and 400 glass plates, Jackson worked with the survey’s landscape painter, Thomas Moran, to “solve many problems of composition.”31 Jackson’s vision tempered the sublime with the picturesque,

representing the West as a classically beautiful milieu while providing mythic publicity images for Hayden’s project. Jackson’s dramatic narrative context provided an official voice, giving a face to a restless society’s search for its national character while answering fables about the West. His famous image of Old Faithful in Eruption was instrumental in Yellowstone’s development as a tourist attraction.

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WILLIAM HENRY JACKSON. The Mountain of the Holy Cross, 1873. 16 15⁄16 x 21 1⁄8 inches. Albumen silver print. Numerous photographers have tried to duplicate Jackson’s image without success.32 Today the picture is a curiosity, but to the viewers of the late 1800s, besieged by theories of Positivism and Darwinian evolution, the image was widely viewed as a concrete symbol of Christian faith and a solid manifestation of God’s law. COURTESY  Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division, Washington, D.C.

Hayden placed Jackson’s images in an album, Yellowstone’s Scenic Wonders (1872), and circulated it among prominent Washington officials, helping to persuade Congress to pass legislation making Yellowstone the country’s first national park. In 1874, Jackson and Ernest Ingersoll of the New York  Tribune  became the first white people to rediscover and document the Rio San Juan cliff dwelling ruins (circa 800s) in what is now Mesa Verde National Park. Ironically, these first white explorers seemed to realize that their photographs and descriptions would change these pristine areas, which would require government protection in order to survive. Jackson’s most famous image during this period was  The Mountain of the Holy Cross  (1873). Since

the time of the Spanish explorers there were rumors about a mountain with a snow-filled cross, a natural Christian symbol of divinity. Jackson wrote about how he and two companions carried his photographic equipment up Notch Mountain, across the ravine from the Holy Cross, where Jackson made eight exposures as the long flamelike shadows on Holy Cross were rapidly sweeping down into the valley. Since 1873 I have been back four or five times. I have used the best cameras and the most sensitive emulsions on the market. I have snapped my shutter morning, noon, and afternoon. I have never come close to matching those first plates.33

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In early 1879, Congress curtailed all survey activities. Jackson moved to Denver and became a prominent industrial photographer, opening his photographic and publishing business, which he ran until 1898. Western railroads commissioned him to photograph their operations, opulent accommodations, and spectacular scenery to encourage commerce and travel out West. In 1883 the railroads introduced measured clock time, leading to the four continental time zones with coordinated clocks that ended the confusion of local time. This promoted corporeal rather than geological time that linked capitalism and technological achievements to present a public image of an imaginary future of boundless progress.34  The railroad companies wanted images that depicted a tamed and organized landscape that could be converted from a phenomenon of contemplation into a commodity for profit. As the frontier closed, Jackson made a business arrangement with the Detroit Photographic  Company (1898–1924) to convert his images into postcards and chromolithographs, colored prints made by lithography, using a separate stone or plate for each color. The postcard became an ideal medium to distribute the commissioned views of tourist interest for the railroads and for related businesses like the Fred Harvey company that ran hotels and restaurants.35 Jackson’s business acumen got his images into the hands of the public, extensively influencing how the nation saw the West. Jackson remained vigorous into his nineties, taking credit for over 80,000 pictures36  and writing his autobiography,  Time Exposure  (1940). His images cast the American West as a stupendous, pristine, and generous Valhalla, permeated with astonishing phenomena and remaining ever benevolent. Eadweard J. Muybridge  (1830–1904) worked for Carleton Watkins in the early 1860s, before publishing his own views of Yosemite. These and subsequent “examples of the perfection to which photography can attain in the delineation of sublime and beautiful scenery”37  brought Muybridge an

international reputation. The full plate views, about 6 × 8 inches when trimmed, were distinguished by  splendid cloud effects. Muybridge devised a “sky shade,” a shutter-like device permitting various exposures to be made on a single plate, to compensate for the wet plate’s over-sensitivity to blue light. The lengths to which Muybridge would go to make his views were reported in the Alta California: he has waited several days in the neighborhood to get the proper conditions of atmosphere for some of his views; he has cut down trees by the score that interfered with the cameras from the best point of sight; he had himself lowered by ropes down precipices to establish his instruments in places where the full beauty of the object to be photographed could be transferred to the negative; he has gone to points where his packers refused to follow him, and he has carried the apparatus himself rather than to forego the picture on which he has set his mind.38

Muybridge’s views of Yosemite demonstrate young America’s nature worship and nationalism. Muybridge did not include people; his pictures show unadulterated wilderness, giving visual form to the notion that God created this abundance for a new chosen people. Here was paradise regained, the proof of Manifest Destiny—that it was God’s wish for Americans to transfigure the uncultivated land into a useful Garden of Eden. The dark side of this concept can be seen in Muybridge’s Modoc War (1872–1873) stereocards,39  which pictured racial stereotypes and were produced for a white audience who used them as proof that their prejudices could be documented by the camera. Between 1865 and 1880 numerous Western expeditions included photographers to document findings. John Wesley Powell (1834–1902) was a geologist and ethnologist who surveyed the Colorado River in 1869, becoming the first white person to pass through the Grand Canyon by boat—a feat for a man who had lost an arm in the Civil War. John K. Hillers (1843–1925), originally an oarsman,

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EADWEARD J. MUYBRIDGE. Clouds Rest, Valley of the Yosemite, circa 1870 (print circa 1874). 16 7⁄8 x 21 7⁄16 inches. Albumen silver print.

became the group’s photographer, producing some bold compositions that captured a sense of place and the quality of light while making ethnological studies of the indigenous peoples. Hillers remained Powell’s photographer from 1873–1879, when he was appointed Chief Photographer for the newly established U.S. Geological Survey, which Powell was instrumental in creating and headed from 1881–1894. William Bell (see Chapter 5) became the photographer for Lieutenant George M. Wheeler’s 1872 expedition in Arizona and Utah. Frank Jay Haynes (1853–1921), who obtained the first official commercial photographic

concession at Yellowstone, followed the formal compositional artifice of the times, but his pictures often revealed how intruding humans were changing unsullied nature. Improvements in reproduction technology reduced the demand for original views, shifting the marketing and distribution of photographs from individual photographers to national companies. Haynes arranged with the Photochrom Company,40  the postcard branch of the Detroit Photographic Company, to reproduce his work (as did Jackson). Postcards increased image production but diminished the scale of landscape and altered it through the inclusion of text. Coloring techniques

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softened photographic description through abstraction and sensualization, manufacturing romantic and impressionistic notions about the West. The 1880s saw the closing of the frontier. Commercial interests demanded the West be made safe for development. In this burgeoning climate of commercial travel, Isaiah West Taber (1830–1912) issued View Album and Business Guide of San Francisco, a protean Yellow Pages of local businesses whose purpose was to

who reaffirmed their beliefs. People curious to see what they had never seen before, but naive about how these documents were formulated, were vulnerable to a viewmaker’s schemes. This vulnerability allowed the values behind the views to be absorbed by viewers and shape their thoughts about what they were seeing. People had not yet learned to critically question the motivations driving the creation of photographs. The lesson that photographic truth is as “transparent” and as changeable as any good negative had yet to be fully formulated, a fact that should be taken into consideration when accessing the work of this time period so as to avoid assigning meanings that were not present at the time.

combine art and advertising … for businessmen … in hotels and mail steamers of America, England, and Australia [that] will be able to relieve the tedium of travel on industries and products of California, and gain some idea, or renew their acquaintance with, its beautiful scenery….  TREAT THIS BOOK KINDLY [sic].41

notes 1

The fragmentation of the Indian alliance and the use of industrial technology by the whites, including firearms, telegraph, and railroads, and the byproducts of clashing cultures, such as smallpox and the slaughter of the buffalo, ensured European control of the Western lands and its indigenous peoples. As curiosity about the West diminished, so did the demand for views, forcing photographers to develop new markets. Ongoing advances in photographic technology and in how photographs were visualized and interpreted, redefined and reorganized cultural ideals. The new concepts of scientific, geological, and mechanical time and space enabled European culture to control the means of distribution and to monopolize the practice of representation. The wet plate’s transparency clouded the issues surrounding its so-called empirical sense of genuineness. By dominating the  mechanical structuring of space within the frame, photographers determined not only what was represented but  how  it was represented. The consumers of such images were likely to identify with the structure and aims of a maker

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For an overview and the role of the camera in exploration see: James R. Ryan, Photography and Exploration, (London: Reaktion Books, 2013). John Ruskin, Works, eds. E. T. Cook and A. Wedderburn (London, 1906), vol. 3, 210. Letter to W. H. Harrison (August 12, 1846). C. Jabez Hughes, “On Art Photography,”  American Journal of Photography, new series vol. 3, no. 17 (February 1, 1861), 261–63. This distinction between “mechanical” and “artistic” photography is slightly reframed in the early twentieth century as that between “photography” and “artistic-photography.” See Marius De Zayas, “Photography and Artistic-Photography” (1913) in Andrew E. Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory: An Historical Anthology  (Boston, MA and Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell, 2014), 121–22. Dr. John Nicol, “Photography in the Field,”  British Journal of Photography, vol. XXXIV, no. 1403 (March 25, 1887), 184–86. Du Camp’s traveling companion for the French Ministry of Education commission, Gustave Flaubert, provides a connection between topographical photography and the realistic novel. Flaubert was known for his efforts to find the exact word (le mot juste) and for his quest for complete objectivity. Flaubert, who assisted Du Camp, began working on  Madame Bovary  (1857) upon his return from this voyage. For an intriguing interpretation of this journey, see Francis Steegmuller, Flaubert in Egypt: A Sensibility on Tour (Boston, MA: Little, Brown & Co., 1972).

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For the ramifications this would have on documentary practice see: Abigail Solomon-Godeau, “A Photographer in Jerusalem, 1855: Auguste Salzmann and His Times” in Photography at the Dock: Essays on Photographic History, Institutions, and Practices  (Minneapolis, MN: University of Minnesota Press, 1991), 150–68 (esp. pp. 161–68). Maria Antonella Pelizzari,  John Shaw Smith, An Irish Traveler with the Calotype Process  (1849–1852). An unpublished paper presented at the University of New Mexico, Spring Symposium, 1993. Bill Jay,  Victorian Cameraman; Francis Frith’s Views of Rural England 1850–1898 (Newton Abbott: David and Charles, 1973), 17. The postcard appeared as a hybrid of the mass-produced albumen print and the carte de visite in Europe about 1869. Its straightforward approach filled the void for imagery of historical and tourist sites, making it popular as a collectible, low-cost method of communication. When coupled with new photomechanical processes, it helped elevate the level of visual literacy. The postcard imparted the value of the straight-on stare and the appreciation of the vernacular. The Art Journal, New Series I (November 1862), 227. See Frith, “The Art of Photography,” The Art-Journal, vol. 5 (March 1, 1859), 71–72. This strong connection between art history and photography has been noticed and explored by authors over the entire span of writings on the medium, from Samuel F. B. Morse to André Malraux. See, for example, excerpts from Malraux’s Museum Without Walls (1947) in Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 164–68. See “Photography on Mont Blanc,”  The Photographic News, vol. V, no. 155 (August 23, 1861), 401–2. Great Eastern, three years in the making and capable of transporting 4,000 passengers plus a crew of 400, was a symbol of British imperialist pride. It was launched in 1858 and laid the first transatlantic cable. See Samuel Bourne, “Narrative of a Photographic Trip to Kashmir and Adjacent Districts,” British Journal of Photography, vol. XIII, no. 335 (October 5, 1866), 474–75. This article was published in nine installments running through vol. XIV, no. 353 (February 2, 1867), 63–64. John Thomson and Adolphe Smith,  Street Life in London  (London: Sampson Low, Marston, Searle and Rivington, 1877), 81–84. For an overview of this subject see Michel Frizot, “Body of Evidence: The Ethnophotography of Difference”

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in Michel Frizot, ed.,  A New History of Photography, English edition (Cologne: Könemann, 1998), 258–71. Street Life in London  was modeled on Henry Mayhew’s  London Labour and London Poor  (1850), which was illustrated by wood engravings based in part on daguerreotypes made under the direction of Richard Beard and “cleaned up” by the engravers. The engraving process separated the subjects from their surroundings, causing them to lose their veracity. Mayhew’s combining of interviews and photographs of London’s urban poor became the model for legitimate sociological documentation. John Thomson and Adolphe Smith,  Street Life in London  (London: Sampson Low, Marston, Searle and Rivington, 1877), preface. Thomson and Smith’s claim regarding how their photographs neither overrate nor underrate their subjects’ appearance clearly suggests that their photographs show accurate information, or that viewers can see their subjects objectively and accurately  through  their photographs. This controversial philosophy of photography will reemerge in the twentieth century under the heading of “transparency.” In Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, see, for example, the contrasting claims of Kendall L. Walton, “Transparent Pictures: On the Nature of Photographic Realism” (1984), 284–89, and Aphrodite Désirée Navab, “Re-Picturing Photography: A Language in the Making” (2001), 365–69. The Woodburytype was a photomechanical process, patented by Walter B. Woodbury (1834–1885) in 1864, in which a negative was exposed to bichromated gelatin to produce a shallow relief mold, following the contours of the image, which was placed in contact with a block of lead. The block was coated with pigmented gelatinous ink and transferred to paper by means of a hydraulic press. The Woodbury print often displays a visible relief, but reveals no structural grain, thus possessing all the tonal delicacy of the original photograph. They were widely used for book illustrations in the 1870s and 1880s. Annan operated studios that did portraits, architecture, art reproductions, and landscapes and was the father of photographer J. Craig Annan (1864–1946) who was active in the pictorialist movement. William Young, introduction to Thomas Annan, The Old Closes and Streets of Glasgow  (Glasgow: James MacLehose & Sons, 1900), 22. For additional readings specifically relevant to Orientalism and photography, in Hershberger, ed., Photographic

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Theory  see Allan Sekula, “The Traffic in Photographs” (1981), 296–301, and François Arago, “Report [on the Daguerreotype to the Chamber of Deputies]” (1839), 48–53. Sekula criticizes Arago’s “Report” as a “rather marked example of ‘Orientalist’ discourse” (p. 298). On other related topics, see also the various articles in Photographic Theory located under the repeated heading of “Identity/Politics.” Henry David Thoreau, Walden, or Life in the Woods (New York: Library of America, 1985), 425. [Originally published in 1854]. See Jonathan Raban,  Bad Land: An American Romance (New York: Pantheon Books, 1996). Historians largely credit Irishman Robert Barker (1739–1806) with the 1787 invention of the 360degree circular wall paintings that surround viewers on all sides (see Chapter 1). Since Daguerre apparently worked as a panorama painter before creating his Diorama theater in 1822, photographic historians have often linked panoramas to photography’s “pre-history” too. For more on Barker’s panorama and Daguerre’s diorama, see Hershberger, ed.,  Photographic Theory, 29–30 and 31–34. For more on this subject see Clarence King, “Catastrophism and Evolution,”  The American Naturalist, vol. 11, no. 8 (August 1877), 449–70. Here King professes his support for Neo-Lamarckian environmentalism that believed evolution moved according to discernible patterns, that  change is erratic and often cataclysmic, and eventually leads to extinction. Hutchings’ Illustrated California Magazine, published by James M. Hutchings from 1856 to 1861, are available as PDFs at: http://www.yosemite.ca.us/library/ hutchings_california_magazine/ See Second View: The Rephotographic Survey Project essay by Paul Berger; Mark Klett, chief photographer; Ellen Manchester, project director; JoAnn Verburg, project coordinator (Albuquerque, NM: University of New Mexico Press, 1984), 17, 20–21. Clarence King, “The Falls of the Shoshone,”  The Overland Monthly, vol. 5, no. 4 (October 1870), 379–85. Time Exposure: The Autobiography of William Henry Jackson, intro. Ferenc M. Szasz (Albuquerque, NM: University of New Mexico Press, 1986). Reprint. Originally published: New York: Van Rees Press, 1940. Some critics claimed Jackson retouched the snowy cross portion of the image. Handwork does appear in the shadowy stream (lower right center) leading up to the

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cross, but not in the area around the cross itself. There is nothing unusual about this practice, as wet plate photographers relied on handwork for effect as well as to correct for deficiencies in the process. It is probable that erosion has caused the arm to retain less snow. Time Exposure: The Autobiography of William Henry Jackson, 218. Ferenc M. Szasz (Albuquerque, NM: University of New Mexico Press, 1986). Reprint. Originally published: New York: Van Rees Press, 1940. For more on how the railroads affected modernity see Wolfgang Schivelbusch,  The Railway Journey: The Industrialization of Time and Space in the Nineteenth Century  (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 2014). See Edward Buscombe, “Inventing Monument Valley: Nineteenth Century Landscape Photography and Western Film” in Patrice Petro, ed., Fugitive Images: From Photography to Video (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1995), 101–2. The Colorado Historical Society has 53,879 glassplate negatives made west of the Mississippi River and the Library of Congress has 30,000 negatives associated with the east and with foreign countries. Some of the negatives were acquired or made by associates, but unlike Mathew Brady, Jackson produced the lion’s share. Also, tens of thousands of contact prints made from the original negatives are in the collection of the Henry Ford Museum in Dearborn, Michigan. See: www.thehenryford.org/exhibits/pic/2001/01.jun.html From Muybridge’s 1868 brochure cited in Mary V. Jessup Hood and Robert Bartlett Haas, “Eadweard Muybridge’s Yosemite Valley Photographers 1867–1872,”  California Historical Society Quarterly, vol. XLII, no. I (March 1963), 10. Ibid., 18. The Modoc Indians lived in northern California and southwest Oregon. They violently clashed with early white settlers and were forced onto a reservation in 1864. Their chief, Captain Jack, led a band of rebels back to California, triggering the Modoc War of 1872–1873 that finally divided the tribe, who now live mainly in Oregon. Photochrom was a Swiss-developed photolithographic process for making a continuous-tone color rendition of a black-and-white photograph using multiple impressions from color-inked lithographic stones. Isaiah West Taber, Introduction to  View Album and Business Guide of San Francisco, circa 1884.

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New Ways of Visualizing Time, Space, and Color

THE INADEQUACY OF HUMAN VISION

Rayleigh and Théodore Lullin (who photographed dripping tap water) and A. M. Worthington (who photographed splashing milk long before Harold Edgerton). These first images provided representations of previously unseeable occurrences and they depicted what was often startlingly different from earlier visual depictions. They made it obvious that human vision proved unreliable for detecting events that unfolded in fractions of a second and that photography could make visible the realm of the unseen in new and exciting ways. New methods developed that affected the look and content of photographs and further altered society’s sense of how time and space could be visually represented.

The technical innovations of the nineteenth century altered and expanded the perimeters of human vision in art and science. As early as 1834, Sir Charles Wheatstone observed that an object painted on a revolving disc appeared to be stationary when illuminated by an intense burst of electric light. He also noticed that flying insects seemed to be fixed in mid-air by the same means. In 1851, Henry Fox Talbot attached a page of the London Times to a swiftly revolving wheel in a darkened room, uncapped the lens of his camera, and made an exposure of about 1/100,000 of a second by means of an electric spark, sharply freezing the action of the moving paper. Talbot concluded that pictures of moving objects could be made by illuminating them with a sudden electric flash, providing a prototype for making stop action images by means of electronic flash.1 By the 1860s, as we have learned, photographers were making instantaneous stereoscopic views that arrested the action of people walking on the street. In 1887 Ernst Mach, an Austrian scientist, used an electric spark as a lighting source to make postage-sized, stop action images of projectiles moving at about 765 miles per hour. By the mid-1890s, spark exposures of one-millionth of a second were being made by scientists such as Lord

LO COMOTION In 1872 Leland Stanford, a former governor of California and future U.S. Senator, president of the Central Pacific Railroad, and wealthy horse enthusiast, hired Eadweard J. Muybridge (1830–1904) to photographically demonstrate that at some point in its gait a horse runs with all four feet off the ground at the same time.2 Due to the wet plate process’s inability to instantly capture the horse’s movement in a “snapshot” fashion, the initial results were inconclusive. Before additional experiments could be carried

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EADWEARD J. MUYBRIDGE. Galloping Horse, Motion Study—Sallie Gardner, owned by Leland Stanford, running at a 1.40 gait over the Palo Alto track, June 19, 1878. 9 3⁄16  × 12 inches. Albumen silver print. COURTESY  Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division, Washington, D.C.

out, Muybridge went on trial for killing his wife’s lover. Although a jury acquitted him in early 1875, he left the country for Central America, where he spent most of the year photographing. When he resumed the work for Stanford, he used a  ripened emulsion, aged for several days at 90°F/32°C to increase its sensitivity. It produced  underexposed, but discernible negatives of a silhouetted horse with all four hooves off the ground. Because Muybridge had retouched the pictures “for the purpose of giving a better effect to the details,”3 however, their authenticity was challenged. To alleviate doubts, the experiment was redone and expanded from a single camera to a battery of cameras. Under radiant California sunshine, against a white background on a limed track, Muybridge arranged twelve cameras at right angles to the animal’s line of motion. Threads, connected to electric switches, were strung across the track. The horse raced by, breaking the threads, firing each shutter

at about 1/2000 of a second. As Stanford anticipated, these silhouetted images confirmed that the horse had all four feet off the ground at once. The surprise was that this happened only when the horse had its feet tucked under its abdomen. None of the photographs pictured the popular conception of a galloping horse, which was with its front and back legs fully extended, in a painterly “hobbyhorse” pose. People were astounded and found the images preposterous because they did not match the accepted modes of representation in which realist painting had the final word about what the world “actually” looked like. Realizing the importance of such pictures, Stanford commissioned Muybridge to photograph additional animals and people in motion.4 Muybridge used photographic images and the phenomenon of  persistence of vision,5 the sensation that still images viewed in rapid succession can depict motion, to show an audience moving

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THOMAS EAKINS. Man Walking, “Stroboscopic” Photograph. 1880s, printed 1930s–40s. Gelatin silver print. COURTESY  The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.

pictures. Eighteen drawings based on the horse photographs were reproduced in the October 19, 1878, issue of  Scientific American. Readers were instructed to cut and paste the images onto paper strips to be placed, image side out, into the interior compartment of a zoetrope. A simple handheld device, a zoetrope is a rotating drum with an open top that utilizes the persistence of vision to produce the illusion of motion by blending the sequential pictures as they are viewed through a series of slits in the turning drum’s side. Muybridge began a lecture tour of America and Europe and illustrated his talks with his  zoopraxiscope, a modified  zoetrope in which transparencies of the images were mounted on a rotating circular glass and projected by a magic lantern. The visual uncertainty and illusion of motion in Muybridge’s presentation can be

likened to the sensation of sitting in a stationary train at a platform as another train on the next track pulls out. While looking out the window of the stationary train, a passenger may perceive the still train as the one that is moving. While lecturing in Philadelphia in 1883, Muybridge met realist painter  Thomas Eakins (1844–1916), who used the horse pictures as visual source material in his own paintings and incorporated the camera in his teaching. Eakins suggested Muybridge include a measurement scale in the background of future photographs so artists could easily copy them. Furthermore, Eakins convinced the University of Pennsylvania to underwrite Muybridge’s plan for a vastly expanded photographic study of animal locomotion. Muybridge commenced working in a specially built

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outdoor studio in June 1884 and concluded the next summer. His subjects included more horses as well as other animals from the local zoo, but mostly nude and semi-nude men and women, engaged in numerous activities. In 1887 the project’s results were published by subscription as  Animal Locomotion, eleven volumes of 781 collotype plates compiled from 19,347 individual photographs. Eakins worked alongside Muybridge during the first part of the summer, using a wheel or disk camera6 to record the successive phases of movement on one plate. Each facet of the action in an Eakins photograph could be scrutinized to allow viewers a more accurate visual analysis of the spatial relationships of the animal’s anatomy as it moved through time. Muybridge continued to use multiple cameras whose shutters were controlled by an electromagnetic device, enabling them to be fired at selected intervals, but he switched to gelatin dry plates, which were easier to handle. He photographed his models against a black background that he divided by white threads into a grid of squares. This provided a conceptual Renaissance device so that the images could be more effortlessly analyzed and drawn by other artists. He used a variety of camera arrangements, typically in groups of twelve, to make his images. The first group of cameras was stationed parallel to the subject and the other two groups were set up at angles of 60 and/or 90 degrees. By the end of the summer of 1885, Muybridge had adopted a single camera with a row of twelve shooting lenses and a thirteenth for viewing; this multi-lens apparatus substituted for an entire battery of cameras, allowing all the images to be made on a single large plate. Muybridge wanted to formulate a visual dictionary of human and animal locomotion for artists. As an artist, not a scientist, Muybridge was concerned with how subjects in motion looked. He took single images and arranged them to form an assemblage that was rephotographed and printed to produce the illusion of movement. His sequencing techniques encouraged viewers to see the action as continuous

when in fact it was not. Muybridge chose artistic pictorial effect over a scientifically accurate and complete recording of movement, and to that end even altered the numbering system of some of his negatives to construct a sequence whose individual elements came from different sessions.7 Taking fragments and individual images, he built elaborate narrative sequences in which tiny stories unfolded. While his constructions may not be verifiably scientific for the analysis of locomotion, Muybridge’s cinematic montages impacted artists interested in redefining the vocabulary of motions that lay beyond the human visual threshold. Muybridge’s work can also be examined for its gender commentary. In his photographs men perform bricklaying and carpentry while women do the sweeping and washing. Under a pseudoscientific guise, Muybridge made visible what was hidden by social convention—a masculine, voyeuristic, erotic fantasy. Muybridge made more plates of nude women than of any other subject, covering a variety of sexual proclivities. His short action sequences of women kissing, disrobing, pouring water over each other, and smoking in the nude, as well as naked men pole vaulting, wrestling, throwing a discus, and batting a baseball invite viewers to join in these provocative constructions without genuinely furthering the understanding of locomotion.8 Muybridge harnessed the authority of the camera to convince viewers that what they were seeing was accurate, even when it did not conform to anything they had ever seen before. Each image frame enclosed a slice of time and space in which formerly invisible aspects of motion were contained. This new reality disturbed the thinking of artists who relied on “being true to nature” as their guiding force. It made clear that what was true could not always be seen, and that what could be seen was not always true. Muybridge demonstrated that for many artists  truth  was just another word for convention. Some artists adjusted their work to bring it in line with Muybridge’s results, but others saw

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EADWEARD J. MUYBRIDGE. Animal Locomotion. 1887. 6¾ x 12 3⁄8 inches. Collotype. COURTESY  The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles, CA.

Unlike Muybridge, Étienne-Jules Marey (1830– 1904) was a scientist who wanted to make an unseen world visible in an objective manner. A physiologist grounded in the tenets of Positivism, a philosophy that sought knowledge by describing a phenomenon, Marey wanted hard, measurable facts to analyze animal and human movement. In the late 1850s, Marey built mechanical and pneumatic devices that were directly attached to his subject; they activated a pen resting on a band of moving paper, which recorded the unobservable movements that comprise human locomotion using a graphic methodology. In contrast to Muybridge,

their interests collide with the alleged veracity of the photograph. What was at stake was the location of the truth; is it in the photographer’s individual perception of movement or is it in the camera’s more comprehensive “meta” view of the event? The sculptor Auguste Rodin said: It is the artist who is truthful and it is photography which lies, for in reality time does not stop, and if the artist succeeds in producing the impression of a movement which takes several moments for accomplishment, his work is certainly less conventional than the scientific image, where time is abruptly suspended.9

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ÉTIENNE-JULES MAREY/CHARLES FREMONT. Chronophotograph, 1894. 6 7⁄16 x 7 15⁄16 inches. Gelatin silver print from glass negative. Marey’s picturing of the “all at oneness” of time, its flow as a progression of events, broke with the traditional Renaissance representation of a still, solidified moment. His work was indicative of how art and science were combining to change the way people saw the world. Here, Charles Fremont (1855–1930), a civil engineer who assisted Marey, used Marey’s method to study blacksmiths at the anvil. Fremont’s photographic investigations helped to inaugurate policies that became the basis for modern industrial production. COURTESY  The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.

Marey’s interest in animal and human locomotion resided in discovering how it  worked, rather than how it looked. His search for a technique that would simultaneously display the relationship of all the body’s moving parts in time and space led Marey to photography. The quest was to picture a body’s “all at oneness”—to picture time as a progression of events in which patterns blend and circulate together and can be simultaneously observed. This thinking

provided a break with the Renaissance representation of the still frame by picturing a rupture in the Western perception of time. Marey was curious about subjective, individual time that flowed at irregular intervals and that could not be measured by the uniform rhythm of a clock. He wanted to portray the formation of the new, modern instant of “now” in which “moments” were realized as a collection of events that needed to be comprehended all at once.

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This evolving notion of simultaneous time formed what is now known as  stream of consciousness, and it helped to steer a new course in Western art and science into the twentieth century. Marey’s interest in locomotion led him to invent graph methods of recording skeletal and muscle movements. To that end, he designed the fusil photographique (the photographic gun), a camera with a rotating plate capable of taking a rapid sequence of separate images in order to provide an accurate, schematic diagram of muscular movement. Concluding that he would get more factual information if the sequential movements appeared on the same plate, Marey created systematic, multiple exposures on a single plate, chronophotographs, using a rotating slit shutter. To eliminate unwanted details, Marey had his models dress in black, with bright metal bands attached to the sides of their arms and legs, and he had them move in front of a black backdrop, thus producing a white, linear graph of geometric movement. Marey also devised a method to accurately photograph the free flight of birds, which would be of interest to early aviators such as the Wright brothers. Although he never made moving pictures, Marey’s method of recording a subject with one camera from a single vantage point was pre-cinematic in concept, and he even created a film projector (1892) to analyze his motion studies. In essence Marey reinvented the camera, taking it from a machine of a single moment to one of a flow of moments. This new way of making pictures re-educated the eye, expanded the visual syntax, and revolutionized the representation of the passage of time.10 Marey’s descriptions of human locomotion were applied to physical training programs. His techniques were used to recast how people performed industrial work on assembly lines. His cinematic-like camera would become a cornerstone of the motion picture industry. Artists studied Marey’s and Muybridge’s images to represent humans and animals in motion, and their works were echoed by

later avant-garde movements.11  Unfortunately for Marey, he was unable to commercially develop his research and his accomplishments were not widely recognized. Marey’s overlapping images offer an industrialized sense of motion, speed, and time. His images visually link the concepts put forth by Charles Lyell in Principles of Geology (1830) and Charles Darwin in On the Origin of Species (1859) that the earth is not a static environment governed by a biblical clock, but a continuum of time. Marey also influenced the French philosopher Henri Bergson, whose  Matter and Memory (1896) argued that time is not made up of individual, measurable pieces but is a continuous and indivisible movement.12 In place of static values Bergson substituted those of change and motion (“I am a thing which continues”). Bergson’s thinking was popular among artists of the early twentieth century and affected writers such as Marcel Proust (In Search of Lost Time  a.k.a  Remembrance of Things Past, 1913–1927) and James Joyce (Ulysses, 1914–1921). Paradoxically, Marey’s analytical chronographs were eventually used by others to undermine Positivism and launch new methods of seeing and thinking about time and space. Initially, however, the repetitious rhythms and compressed space of Marey’s chronophotography can be seen in works by French artists such as Georges Seurat’s (1859–1891) last study for Chahut (1889) and later in the overlays of Edgar Degas’s (1834–1917) Frieze of Dancers (circa 1895). The displacement of static time into an endless flow of movement altered the artist’s rendition of time and space in such depictions as Marcel Duchamp’s 1912 Nude Descending a Staircase (see Chapter 10). Its role in the development of Italian Futurism can be seen in Giacomo Balla’s Dynamism of a Dog on a Leash (1912). In 1882, the German photographer  Ottomar Anschütz’s (1846–1907) animal-motion studies led him to develop a folding hand camera with a  focal-plane shutter.13  Historians now consider his camera the prototype of the folding bellows,

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OT TOMAR ANSCHÜTZ. Storks, 1881. 3¾ × 5½ inches. Gelatin silver print. COURTESY  Rheinisches Bildarchiv. Museum Ludwig/Agfa Foto-Historama Koln.

flatbed-type press camera, with exposure times as rapid as 1/1000 of a second. His pictures of nesting storks featured detailed images of the birds in flight, and they amazed the photographic and scientific communities in 1884. Starting in 1886, Anschütz improved Muybridge’s multiple camera system to allow for faster sequential human and animal locomotion studies. His  tachyscope, an early animated-picture machine, was a modified zoetrope with a vertical rotating drum instead of a horizontal one that allowed these studies to be seen in motion by individual viewers through an aperture. Anschütz’s electrotachyscope, in which transparencies

were placed on a revolving disk and illuminated from behind by an electric spark, let a few people view the image at one time (the images were not projected). Following the lead of Ernst Mach, Anschütz also created electric spark photographs of cannonballs in flight at the Krupps weapons plant in 1888.

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TRANSFORMING AESTHETICS: TECHNICAL BREAKTHROUGHS

increased sensitivity posed a problem for photographers accustomed to the wet plate; they overexposed the new gelatin plates and then complained about their poor quality. The dry plates freed photographers from having to be their own platemakers, allowing field work without a portable darkroom since dry plates remained sensitive for months and did not have to be processed immediately. Ripening further increased the emulsion’s sensitivity, permitting daylight exposure times of a fraction of a second. These breakthroughs opened stop-action images to all photographers, allowing subjects to be represented in ways that were previously not possible, astounding and changing people’s perceptions of their world. Edward L. Wilson, editor of The Philadelphia Photographer, took gelatin dry plates on a 22,000-mile voyage and developed them upon his return, eight months later. He proclaimed: “It has been the salvation of photography… Blessed then be the dry plate!”15 During the 1880s, the glass was replaced with celluloid. The gelatin emulsion changed photographic practice, encouraging photographers to make their lives easier by accepting the commercial standardization of materials, equipment, and processes. Visually, the gelatin emulsion advanced the investigation of motion by providing material access to more practitioners. Scientifically, it encouraged research that extended the emulsion’s sensitivity into the green, yellow, orange, and red bands of the spectrum. Early photographic materials were sensitive only to the blue-violet and ultraviolet portions of the spectrum. In 1873, German photochemist Hermann Wilhelm Vogel (1834–1898) discovered that the addition of certain dyes to an emulsion made it sensitive to the spectral region that was absorbed by the dye, opening up the field of dye sensitization of emulsions. Preoccupation with the introduction of the gelatin process prevented Vogel’s discovery from being actively pursued. However, in 1884 Vogel, along with Johann Obernetter, formulated the first

Although the wet plate process was universally adopted, it was difficult and cumbersome. The first collodion dry plates were formulated by French scientist J. M. Taupenot and produced in limited quantity in England in 1860. They were more manageable, but required exposure times six times longer than wet collodion, making them useful only for static subjects. In 1864, B. J. Sayce (1837–1895) and William Blanchard Bolton (1848–1899) improved the speed with collodiobromide dry plates that needed only three times the exposure of a wet plate. A major breakthrough was made by physician and amateur photographer Richard Leach Maddox (1816–1902), who substituted gelatin for collodion around 1871. This greatly simplified the picturemaking process, permitting plates to be sensitized in advance and developed at a later time, thereby encouraging photographers to make pictures that were less conventional in their content and construction and to be freed from the burden of development at the time of exposure. The dry plate disposed of all the equipment and procedures needed to prepare a wet plate and eliminated the dangerous and odorous alcohol and ether fumes associated with the process—fumes that aggravated chronic health conditions in practitioners like Maddox. Maddox published his findings in the British Journal of Photography.14 Stating that his medical practice did not allow him time to refine his work, he urged others to further the effort. Improvements in Maddox’s method led to the manufacturing of the first practical dry plates in 1878, in which a glass plate was coated with a silver bromide emulsion that had been prepared with a special gelatin binder. These plates provided less contrast and were about ten times more sensitive than the wet plates they supplanted. Initially, their

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truly commercial orthochromatic (sensitive to all parts of the visible spectrum except red) gelatin silver dry plate (a gelatin binder that contained the light-sensitive silver emulsion). Although it suffered from fog (unwanted density not produced by camera exposure) and loss of sensitivity, pictorially it provided a more accurate black-and-white tonal translation of a subject than the wet plate, delivering a wider range of gray print tones. As the first professor of photochemistry and spectral analysis at the Royal Technical Academy of Berlin (today the Technische Universität Berlin), Vogel published an important textbook, the  Handbook of Photography (1867). His successor, Professor Adolf Miethe, along with his laboratory assistant and collaborator Arthur Traube, patented the panchromatic emulsion (sensitive to all wavelengths in the visible spectrum) in 1902 with them, modern color photography (see Color and Photography later in this this chapter). Meanwhile, British scientists and amateur photographers Vero Charles Driffield (1848–1915) and Ferdinand Hurter (1844–1898) found it “intolerable to practice an art whose principles were so little understood.”16 They devised scientific methods to study and measure development, exposure, and sensitivity to light, leading to the formation of sensitometry—the process of determining the response of photographic materials to light and processing. Driffield and Hurter asserted that: “The production of a perfect picture by means of photography is an art; the production of a technically perfect negative is a science.”17 Their discoveries permitted photographers to make exposures and process film based on scientific study instead of experience and chance. The scientists showed that an emulsion could be developed for a predetermined amount of time at an exact temperature to obtain specific levels of tonal contrast instead of by visual inspection under a safe-light. Emulsions processed in total darkness could be made sensitive to all parts of the spectrum and safely developed without safelight fog (exposure

from the safelight). Increases in emulsion speed and expanded spectrum range, on the other hand, necessitated developing a precision shutter mechanism to control discrete segments of time, the most common being the  between-the-lens shutter, placed between the lens’s elements. Refinements in lens design, such as  anastigmat  lenses (1886), solved basic lens aberrations, especially that of astigmatism, which causes an object to blur around the edges. Previously, photographers had to stop-down their lens to small apertures to avoid this problem and be content with a narrow field of sharpness (typically about 25 degrees). The widespread use of anastigmat lenses at the beginning of the twentieth century improved overall image sharpness, provided larger useful working apertures for low light and action situations, and allowed photographers to show more of a scene by sharply covering a field of view up to 70 degrees. By the 1890s new printing materials were impacting how images were made and seen.  Gaslight paper18 allowed photographers to make prints without the sunlight usually required to expose printing-out papers. It also freed the photographer from using an expensive, ventilated gas safelight with the new and much faster bromide papers. These papers caused the albumen papers to become extinct by the start of the new century; they were obsolete themselves by 1920, except for making portrait proofs.

THE HANDHELD CAMERA: THE KODAK Until the late 1880s, the expense, difficulty, and physical size of the equipment kept most people from making their own photographs. Technical advances during the late nineteenth century enabled designers to create handheld cameras, freeing them from  the tripod.19  The market responded with

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cheap, mass-produced, simple-to-use cameras with names like Compact, Hawk-Eye, and Instantograph, emphasizing their small size and the concepts of vision and speed. Some used a magazine, a rigid, light tight, often reloadable container for holding up to a dozen plates, enabling quick, stealth-like exposures, earning these machines the nickname of “detective cameras.” One camera is mythically associated with amateur photography—the  Kodak. Coined by George Eastman (1854–1932), a former bank employee from Rochester, New York, the Kodak name began as a camera model but quickly became a brand and company name that dominated the amateur market. Introduced in 1888, the first Kodak was a simple 3¾ × 3¼ × 6½-inch box camera, weighing about 25 ounces, including film. It had a 57mm f/9, fixed-focus lens and a barrel shutter that could make 100 circular images, 2½ inches in diameter. For $25 (a tidy sum at the time, initially making it a luxury item), a Kodak came factory loaded with paperbacked “Eastman’s American Film,” ready for a user to point, shoot, advance film, and shoot again. Ninety-nine more exposures later, the roll was completed and the camera ready to ship back to the Eastman factory for processing and printing, thus making what soon would be known as Eastman Kodak Co. the first nationwide photofinishing business and sanctioning Rochester, New York as a future a hub of photographic activity. Contact prints were made from each negative and mounted on gilt-edged, chocolate-brown cards, and then returned with the camera; for another $10, the camera was reloaded with film. In 1889, the new “Eastman’s Transparent Film” allowed the photographer to do the processing, though most still left the messy task to the manufacturer. In 1891, daylight loading film allowed the camera to be loaded without a darkroom. Eastman’s conceptual breakthrough was to divorce the photographic act of exposure (seeing) from the mechanical details and chemical steps of the process. His strategy and populist slogan, “You

press the button, we do the rest,” enabled Eastman to market the Kodak and its successors to the many people who had never taken a photograph or owned a camera, redrawing the boundaries of photographic practice by providing an industrial support system capable of producing standardized materials to maintain it. The Kodak’s simplicity transformed a decentralized practice into a mass retail market of goods and services, and contradicted the proclamations of artists and scientists that special equipment and training were needed. It enabled a broader, non-specialist, cross-section of the population to become part of the process, making images of their own choosing whenever they wished. This launched the act of bringing photography to everyday middle-class life. The Kodak initiated a new dialogue between viewer and subject, increasing photography’s ability to level hierarchy, and creating an initial sense of visual democracy. Eastman referred to the Kodak as: A photographic notebook. Photography is thus brought within the reach of every human being who desires to preserve a record of what he sees. Such a photographic notebook is an enduring record of many things seen only once in a lifetime and enables the fortunate possessor to go back by the light of his own fireside to scenes which would otherwise fade from memory and be lost.20

THE SNAPSHOT ATTITUDE Images made with a handheld camera became known as “snapshots,” adopted from the hunting term meaning to shoot instinctively without taking aim. The snapshot is based on vernacular attitudes rather than the trained sensibilities of Western European art. Since the typical handheld camera user was unschooled in picturemaking strategies and the proper use of equipment and materials,

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the classical aesthetic criteria of content, form, and technique did not apply. The approach of the snapshooter was direct, spontaneous, and matter-of-fact, casually exploring the pleasures of everyday. Typically, the handheld camera acted as a democratic collector of memories, and the combination of the snapshot and its accompanying album would soon function as a visual diary of the familiar. The snapshooter’s interest was almost exclusively personal and the values presented were life-affirming because the snapshots acted as an “aide-mémoire,” triggering associations with the events and people depicted. These uninhibited, unpretentious, and often subconscious reactions had a simple sensory freshness that was capable of changing the attitude of an observer toward a subject. On the other hand, to those lacking such personal associations, snapshots can seem like sealed storybooks that require imagination and visual literacy to gain entrance.

No single individual invented the snapshot genre. Rather, an extended collaborative process generated it, via countless photographers exploring the prosaic and relying on idiomatic consensus to establish meaning. The will of the individual was set aside in favor of community consent, with a partiality for familiar moments positioned in the center of the frame with little thought to what was occurring in the rest of the scene. The snapshot’s proliferation meant professionals were no longer needed to make basic record pictures, forcing them to become proficient in highly specialized applications, such as gum printing, in which the image-receiving paper was brushed with a pigmented solution of gum bichromate emulsion, steps that were beyond the scope of hobbyists. The small negatives produced by handheld cameras renewed interest in making prints that were larger than the original negative, encouraging enlarging and its accompanying aesthetics, like post-camera cropping, to become an almost universal practice. The snapshot personified a natural desire to recreate what we think we believe, know, or have seen. Kodak quickly revised the circular image of their early cameras into a rectangle in order to conform to the Renaissance standards of how a picture was supposed to look—like a horizontal landscape canvas. But the snapshot led a dualistic existence. The ease and relative low cost of producing a snapshot encouraged people to take chances just to see what would “come out.” The sheer number of photographs being taken increased the impact of chance, leading George Bernard Shaw to say: “The photographer is like the cod which produces a million eggs in order that one may reach maturity.”21  Through its million incarnations, the snapshot altered the visual arts. While meeting certain pictorial expectations, the snapshot invited the unexpected. This element of surprise could reveal a subject without adornment, covering another or a different kind of truth. The snapshot attitude became provocative when gaffes, previously eliminated by professionals, were

Bull, circa 1890. 2 2⁄3-inch diameter (Kodak #1 snapshot]. Albumen silver print. COURTESY  Collection of Jack and Beverly Wilgus.

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adopted as working methods by serious imagemakers of other mediums like painting. What were initially accidents, such as informal framing, unexpected cropping, unbalanced compositions, skewed horizon lines, unusual angles, weird perspectives, banal subject matter, extremes in lighting, out-offocus subjects, blurring, double exposures, extended time exposures, and poor quality optics, grew into conscious design.22 These ideas and ways of seeing transformed pictorial convention, influencing modern art movements, including surrealism and dadaism, movements that set themselves in opposition to the ideals of the classical, empirical, scientific modes of thinking. The explosion of snapshooters changed the societal relationship between photographers and their subjects. Before the widespread availability of the handheld camera, the act of making a photograph required the cooperation of both parties: the person behind the camera and the poser in front of the camera. Now the handheld camera made it possible to surreptitiously photograph without a subject’s consent with a much greater ease than what was previously possible. Not only hunting terminology but also hunting strategies were incorporated into how people used miniature cameras, including stealthily stalking and shooting a subject before it could protect itself. The number of amateurs “kodaking” everything everywhere spawned a social annoyance and the press ridiculed such “kodakers” as camera fiends. The expansion of subject matter by the snapshooters collided with society’s restrictions about decency, good taste, or consent. Without a subject’s consent, photographers faced an ethical dilemma of whether or not to take a picture. On August 20, 1884, The New York Times ran a story about “The Camera Epidemic,” equating it to cholera and labeling it a “national scourge.” The satirical complaint related how those who had contracted the disease called  Camera lamina sicca  were harassing healthy people.23  It complained that no one could walk down the street or sit in the woods with a young

lady without a dozen or more cameras trained on them by “camera lunatics.” As amateurs became bolder, the public became more resentful, as this response indicates: There is but one remedy for the amateur photographer. Put a brick through his camera whenever you suspect he has taken you unawares. And if there is any doubt, give the benefit to the brick, not the camera. The rights of private property, personal liberty, and personal security—birthrights, all of them, of American citizens—are distinctly inconsistent with the unlicensed use of the instantaneous process.24

Although handheld cameras were still too expensive to be used universally, they extended the new photographic hobby to middle-class women, who were no less enthusiastic than the men.25  At one point, during a trip to America, Prince George of Greece was “pursued by 150 ladies who persisted in photographing him, despite his protests .”26 The clandestine use of handheld cameras made the ethics of street photography a controversial matter. How could the subject’s rights of personal privacy be reconciled with the photographer’s freedom of expression and the public’s right to know?  The Amateur Photographer  sarcastically observed, “Our moral character dwindles as our instruments get smaller.”27 The snapshot, by breaking aesthetic and societal rules, altered how we see and changed what we are allowed to picture, including unanticipated ways that have now played out with the advent of camera phone images and videos on social media. Camera clubs and their publications grew to meet amateur photographers’ demands for guidance and exhibition opportunities. Big societies, such as The Camera Club of New York and The Camera Club  in London, had “advanced” members whose ideas and work would come to influence the entire practice of photography (see Chapter 9). In turnof-the-century  America, a dozen club magazines,

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ÉMILE ZOLA. The Universal Exposition, Taken from the Eiffel Tower, Paris, 1900. Gelatin silver print. Emile Zola’s image, taken from an unusual vantage point, foreshadows the concerns of photographers in the 1910s and 1920s who would more fully investigate the enigmatic spatial arrangements of the booming machine age. Zola owned ten different cameras, developed his own negatives, made enlargements, recorded his experiments with materials and methods, and left a collection of some 1,500 glass plate negatives. COURTESY  The Museum Association of Émile Zola, Medan, France.

bulb was squeezed—and “watch the birdie” became a command at portrait sessions. Writers and artists who had no intention of becoming professional photographers were infatuated with the snapshot and used the camera as an adjunct to their other aesthetic activities.  Émile Zola (1840–1902), author of highly detailed novels about French society, took up photography late in his career. As the leading literary exemplar of  naturalism, a style based on the accurate depiction of people, places, and things seen through one’s temperament—an artist’s capacity to transform subject matter into history, Zola believed that the novelist, like the scientist, should observe and record dispassionately. Given his interest in everyday subjects, the camera seemed to be the ideal instrument for accurate depiction. Zola remarked:

with photographic illustrations, were in regular circulation. Many publications acted as the official voices of amateur clubs, from those that met in living rooms to large, full-service organizations that offered programming and darkrooms. Besides offering visual stimulus, the club publications were educational, providing how-to articles, exhibition reviews, and roundups of photo-related happenings, product advertisements, and advice columns with tips like the one from C. W. Davis of Athens, Georgia. Davis trained a canary to sing on signal so that “The sitter forgets all about the head-rest, the trying light, the wearisomeness of keeping a fixed position… A pleasant and unconscious expression on the face of the sitter is the result of the little bird’s melody.”28  Soon photographers could buy a mechanical bird that chirped when a pneumatic

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PAUL NADAR. The Art of Living a Hundred Years, 1886. Each image is 5¾ × 4 inches. Photogravures. COURTESY  George Eastman Museum, Rochester, NY.

of Muybridge, Marey, and others opened the possibility of learning more about a subject through a series of photographs that occurred over time. These new ways of conceptualizing time and motion shifted society’s understanding of the present moment as a singular instant to that of a temporally extended continuum.  This profound transformation in understanding and experiencing time encouraged photographers like Nadar to experiment in the portrait studio with extending the amount of visual time a viewer had to know a subject by presenting an extended collection of moments. In 1886 Nadar published a photo interview,  The Art of Living a Hundred Years, based on a series of twenty-one exposures made by his son  Paul Nadar  (1856–1939) as Nadar conversed with the French scientist Michel-Eugène Chevreul on his 100th birthday. Chevreul’s commentary formed the captions to the photographs, which could be reproduced via the new halftone process that allowed photographs and text to be simultaneously printed together (see Chapter 14 for details). The serial use of sequential photographs combined with an interview resulted in the first photo essay.

In my opinion, you cannot say you have thoroughly seen anything until you have got a photograph of it, revealing a lot of points which otherwise would be unnoticed, and which in most cases could not be distinguished.29

Effectively, Zola argued that photographs had become the new norm for the way things look to us, hence changing our fundamental sense of what constitutes reality and realism. Perusing this new reality, Zola made observant snapshots of family, friends, and architectural subjects. This style of photography can be seen as a response to Baudelaire’s plea for art (although he was antagonistic towards photography as an art) that would capture the “heroism of modern life” as its subject.

TIME AND MOTION AS AN EXTENDED CONTINUUM Until the 1880s, most people considered photography to consist of single images that depicted and made a subject known to the viewer. The work

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Alexander Black (1859–1940) used the halftone process in conjunction with the concept of the tableau vivant (living picture, a representation of a scene by suitably costumed and posed people) to reproduce a sequence of still images to illustrate his short story, “Miss Jerry,” for  Scribner’s Magazine  in 1895, which was a proto-cinematic picture play. Black wanted the tableaux vivants to act progressively, so that the illusion of reality would be created not by suspending action in isolated pictures but by visually fusing many images together.30 Sir John Herschel had anticipated these pre-cinematic events in 1860 when he discussed the possibility of taking a series of snapshots and showing them in a phenakistoscope, an apparatus comparable to a zoetrope and utilized to present animated drawings:

through an eyepiece at a continuous, 50-foot loop of 35mm positive celluloid film, permanently threaded through rollers. As the crank was turned, the film moved past an electric light bulb and a whirling slotted disk (an intermittent shutter) that interrupted the light as each frame changed at the rate of 46 frames per second. To make certain the film moved at a constant rate without slipping, Dickson perforated the edges of the film so it could be driven by toothed sprocket wheels with the same design as the Kinetoscope. Edison contracted George Eastman to make this film, establishing the 35mm format as the  motion picture  standard for over a century. Little thought was given to subject matter. The first Kinetoscope Parlor, with ten machines, opened in New York in April 1894, and featured snapshots in motion. In June machines were shipped to San Francisco, and by September they were in London and Paris. Various Kinetoscope films are available online. The problem with the Kinetoscope was that its small image size allowed only one person at a time to view its pictures. Using the magic lantern shows as a model, numerous inventors set about to design a machine that would enlarge the image onto a screen. The breakthrough occurred on December 28, 1895, when Auguste (1862–1954) and Louis (1864–1948) Lumière projected very short films of vernacular subject matter (such as a train coming into a station) to a Parisian audience by means of the  Cinématographe. The Cinématographe projector, constructed by Jules Carpentier, used a clawlike device to pull the perforated 35mm celluloid film at the required intermittent speed. Similar devices were invented almost simultaneously by William Friese-Greene and Birt Acres in England and by Charles Francis Jenkins and William Dickson, Edison’s designer, in America. Edison and the Lumière family were able to link science and business to make cinema commercially viable. Through the corporate research laboratories of Edison’s Kinetoscope and the Lumière’s Cinématographe, teams

What I have to purpose may appear a dream, …  by snapshot … the representation of scenes in action—the vivid and lifelike reproduction and handing down to the latest posterity of any transaction in real life … where any matter of interest is enacted within a reasonably short time, which may be seen from a single point of view.31

MOVING PICTURES By the 1890s, a cluster of autonomous inventors was simultaneously bringing Herschel’s vision to fruition. A surviving clip, lasting less than two seconds, made by French artist and inventor Louis Le Prince (1841–vanished 1890) is widely acknowledged to be the earliest known motion picture made using a single lens camera and a strip of paper as film.32 The first continuous-film motion picture viewing machine to gain public acceptance was developed and marketed by Thomas Alva Edison (1847–1931). William Kennedy Laurie Dickson designed the Kinetoscope for Edison. It was a 1½-minute peep-show. An individual peered

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WILLIAM KENNEDY-LAURIE DICKSON (1860‒1935). Edison Kinetoscopic Record of Fred Ott’s Sneeze, 1894. 7 x 5 inches. Gelatin printing-out paper print. This series of 45 movie frames shows, Fred Ott, an Edison engineer, sneezing. It is the earliest surviving “motion picture” registered for copyright at the Library of Congress, received on January 9, 1894. It represents the dawn of America filmmaking while remaining an historical accident. In 1894 there was no provision in the copyright law for the registration of motion picture film—the format was still in the process of invention and refinement—but, luckily the Copyright Office registered the Kinetoscopic series as a photograph. The movie is only 5 seconds long and was filmed circa January 2‒7, 1894 for publicity purposes as a series of still photographs for an article in Harper’s weekly in Thomas Edison’s Black Maria studio. COURTESY

Library of Congress, Washington, D.C.

of people, rather than a solitary inventor, marketed their inventions through mass-production and distribution. By the close of 1896, moving pictures were being projected regularly throughout Europe and America. Various Kinetoscope films are available online. These simple moving snapshots rapidly evolved a new visual vocabulary based on juxtaposing non-successive events, altering once again the Renaissance tradition of using a continuous, single point of view to represent time and space. The editing methods that developed in early films, such as  The Great Train Robbery (1903), proved that audiences could

conceptually leap through time and space, just as they had learned to do with novels and stories, and link together discontinuous events. Grounded in scientific thought and industrial technology, moving pictures became a new visual reality. The interest in moving pictures would lead Scottish inventor John Logie Baird (1888–1946) to demonstrate the world’s first live working television system in 1926 and color television in 1928. The fascination with photo-based moving pictures would lead them to be recognized as perhaps the first truly mass form of entertainment based on artistic expression and the most influential medium of the twentieth century.

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COLOR AND PHOTO GRAPHY

duplicate his results and the process and was dismissed as a hoax. However, recent findings show that Hill did discover a method to photographically capture several natural colors. Conversely they also confirm he was a bit of a charlatan in that “Hill began adding additional pigments to his color plates by hand, doctoring them to look more multi-hued than the originals.”33 Hill was not alone in the quest to make color photographs. The most popular solution was to hand-color a photograph. Artists who once made their living painting miniature portraits soon applied their skills to brush colored pigments mixed with gum arabic onto the surface of daguerreotypes. The coloring could be made permanent by the heat given off as the colorist breathed on its mirror-like surface.34 Many women found employment as colorists in addition to being assistants and receptionists in daguerrean studios.35

Since photography’s inception, people were disappointed about its lack of color. In 1840, Sir John Herschel reported recording, but not fixing, blue, green, and red on silver chloride-coated paper, suggesting that color photographs could be made directly from the action of light on a chemically sensitive surface. Other experimenters, including Edmond Becquerel in the late 1840s and early 1850s, and Niépce de Saint-Victor in the 1850s and 1860s, recorded colors directly on daguerreotypes, but they were unable to make them permanent. In early 1851  Levi L. Hill  (1816–1865), a Baptist minister from Westkill, New York, announced a secret, permanent, direct color process. When Hill’s  A Treatise on Heliochromy  was finally published in 1856, photographers were not able to

LEVI L. HILL. Landscape with Farmhouse, 1851. Hillotype. Until his death in 1865, Hill maintained that he had made color photographs, though he confessed to having done so accidentally. He revealed that he had spent the last fifteen years of his life attempting to repeat the accidental combination without success. Recently new scientific evidence has suggested that Hill may have indeed stumbled onto a direct color process.36 COURTESY  Division of Photographic History, National Museum of American History, Smithsonian Institution.

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first projected color photographic image

THE ADDITIVE THEORY The trichromatic theory of color perception was developed by English scientist Thomas Young in 1802 and refined by the German scientist Hermann von Helmholtz in the early 1850s. This theory hypothesized that our ability to perceive colors depends on three different types of nerve fibers or receptors in our eyes, sensitive to reddish, greenish and bluish light respectively, and that the variety of sensations we call colors result from various stimulations of those different nerves. This led Scottish scientist James Clerk Maxwell (1831–1879) to deliver a lecture in 1861, “On the theory of three primary colours,” in which he deduced several “consequences” from this theory that there are only three primary colors. Maxwell stated the following:

To validate this theory, Maxwell worked with photographer Thomas Sutton to test whether a color image could be produced using just the three primary colors. Sutton made four—not three as commonly believed—individual black-and-white negatives of a tartan plaid ribbon through separate blue-violet, green, red, and yellow-colored fluids, which acted as filters.38  Black-and-white positives were made from each negative. These positives, except for the yellow, were projected in register (all images perfectly aligned) onto a white screen from separate apparatuses, called lantern projectors or magic lanterns, with each slide conveyed through the same colored filter used to make the original negative. For example, the positive photographed through the green filter was projected through the same green liquid filter. When all three positives were simultaneously superimposed on a screen, the result was a projected limited color image of the multicolored ribbon. It should be noted that Maxwell was  not  attempting to invent color photography; rather, his demonstration utilized photography to prove the additive color vision theory, which in turn offered a practical projection process for producing photographic color images using a principle referred to as “three-color photography.”39 Later scientific investigation revealed that the early photographic emulsions Sutton used for Maxwell’s experiment were not capable of recording the full visible spectrum. Neither orthochromatic (sensitive to all colors except red and deep orange) nor panchromatic (sensitive to red, green, blue, and ultraviolet) emulsions had yet been invented. The test should have failed since the emulsion used was not sensitive to red and only slightly sensitive to green. Scientists took a century to figure out why Maxwell’s experiment worked with an emulsion that was not sensitive to all the primary colors. It is now thought that Maxwell’s method succeeded because

There are three primary colours… every colour is either a primary colour, or a mixture of primary colours… and four colours may always be arranged in one of two ways. Either one of them is a mixture of the three, or a mixture of two of them can be found, identical with a mixture of the other two.37

Additive color syntheses are based on the principle that all colors of light can be mixed optically by combining in different proportions the three primary colors of the spectrum: red, green, and blue (RGB). Just two primary colors can be mixed in varying proportions to produce many colors of light. For example, a mixture of the right proportion of red and green light produces yellow. When all three of the primary colors of light are combined in equal amounts the result is white light. When white light is passed through a primary-colored filter, that filter transmits only that particular color of light and absorbs the other colors. A red filter transmits red light, while absorbing all the other colors, which are combinations of green and blue light, and so on.

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D. A. SPENCER. Duplicate Copies of Maxwell and Sutton’s Original Tartan Ribbon of 1861, circa 1939. 6½ × 8½ inches. Gelatin silver glass plate negatives. In 1861, James Clerk Maxwell used photography to demonstrate the validity of the Young-Helmholtz color theory, and in doing so marked the beginning of color photography. His process synthesized the colors of an object by the means of red, green, and blue light, using three black-and-white transparencies obtained from separation negatives and projected onto a screen with matching colored filters. When these three colored images were superimposed, the colors of the tartan ribbon re-appeared. This image is a digital reconstruction showing the final results of Maxwell’s experiment and was produced from D. A. Spencer’s 1938–1939 glass copies, which were made directly from Thomas Sutton’s original positives. COURTESY  Mark Jacobs Collection.

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of two other deficiencies in the materials that canceled out the effect of the nonsensitive emulsion: (1) the red dye of the ribbon reflected ultraviolet light that was recorded on the red negative, and (2) his green filter was faulty and let some blue light strike the plate. Both of these defects corrected for the lack of sensitivity of the emulsion to red and green light. It is also thought that Sutton made the fourth yellow exposure to help compensate for the green filter, allowing more blue light to reach the plate. Regardless, when done with contemporary panchromatic emulsions Maxwell’s research proves to be theoretically sound and provides the basis for how digital sensors electronically capture color images. Projected additive color photography also provided the basis for what was the most notable color process prior to the invention of the Autochrome

(see following section). This was advanced in 1888 by the American inventor Frederic Eugene Ives (1856–1937), who used a “sliding” or “repeating back” attached to a camera that exposed three separate black-and-white negatives onto a single glass plate through blue-violet, green, and red filters. As with the earlier Maxwell experiment, glass positives were made from these negatives and then placed and viewed through a device called a Photochromoscope viewer. The viewer had the same type of color filters as the camera in addition to three mirrors that superimposed the three positives creating the illusion of a full color projected image with the added bonus of it being in stereo. Ives marketed his viewer in 1895 under the name Kromskop and the images under the name Kromograms.40 However, it was too complicated and expensive to achieve commercial

WILLIAM SAVILLE-KENT. Butterfly and Flowers, 1898. Ives Kromogram. Digitally reconstructed single image by Victor Minakhin from original stereo glass positives. The Kromogram was the name given to the transparencies used in the Ives Krōmskōp for projecting “photographs in natural colors.” COURTESY  Mark Jacobs Collection.

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SERGEI MIKHAILOVICH PROKUDIN-GORSKII. Krest’ianskii’a dievushki. Rossiiskaia imperiia (Peasant girls. [Russian Empire]), 1909. 9 3⁄8 × 3½ inches. 1 negative (3 frames): glass, black-and-white, three-color separation. COURTESY  Library of Congress, Prints & Photographs Division, Washington, D.C.

ADDITIVE SCREEN PRO CESSES

success, plus people wanted fixed color photographs that they could hang on their walls, which indicated that a color photograph on glass could only go so far and a color print on paper was needed. Russian photographer  Sergei Mikhailovich Prokudin-Gorskii (or Gorsky; 1863–1944) used a similar method, which was based upon the system developed by the German scientist and photographer Professor Adolf Miethe (1862–1927). Digital reconstructions from Gorskii’s images of Tsarist Russia remain vibrant as there are no color dyes in the original black-and-white negatives to fade over time.41

In 1869 Louis Ducos du Hauron published  Les Couleurs en photographie, solution du problème (Color in Photography: the solution to the problem), which anticipated many of the theoretical frameworks for making analog color photographs until the release of Kodachrome color reversal film in 1935. Among his proposed solutions, Du Hauron speculated that a screen ruled with fine lines in the three primary colors would act as a filter to produce a color photograph with a single exposure instead of the hypothetical three needed in Maxwell’s experiment, thus describing what would become the basis for the additive screen plate.

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UNKNOWN (Irish?) photographer. Stuffed Birds, ca. 1895. 4 × 5 inches. Joly Color. Joly Color, the first commercial line-screen process for additive color photographs, was introduced to the public in 1895. However, it was expensive and the emulsions were not sensitive to the full spectrum so the results did not appear “natural.” COURTESY

George Eastman Museum, Rochester, NY.

joly color

Du Hauron photographed each scene through green, orange, and violet filters, which were still considered the primary colors of light at that time by some who were not aware of Maxwell’s earlier work. Then he printed his three exposures on thin sheets of bichromated gelatin containing carbon pigments of red, blue, and yellow. When the three positives (transparencies) were superimposed, a full-color photograph resulted, pointing the way for future single color exposures. Simultaneously, French inventor and poet Charles Cros (1842–1888) independently demonstrated how color images could be made using three-color separation negatives/positives, confirming the path that would be followed for a practical color process to evolve.

In 1894 John Joly (1857–1933), a Dublin physicist, patented the first line-screen process for additive color photographs, but he only experienced a brief commercial success. The process was expensive and the available emulsions still were not sensitive to the full range of the spectrum; thus the final image was not able to achieve the look of “natural” color, especially because he generated the photograph by relying on a screen of red, green, and blue-violet lines which he ruled on a gelatin-coated glass plate. This meant that, when looking at the photograph or projecting it, the lines were still very visible. However, Joly’s work indicated that the additive screen process had the potential to become a commercially viable way of making color photographs.

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autochrome A major breakthrough in the making of additive screen color photographs was patented in 1904 by Auguste and Louis Lumière (a.k.a. frères Lumière), with commercial manufacturing beginning in 1907. In their Autochrome system, a glass plate was dusted with microscopic grains of potato starch that had been dyed with red-orange, green, and blue-violet. A fine powder of carbon black was used to fill in any spaces that would allow unfiltered light to pass through this filter screen, eliminating the need for colored lines to act as filters. A newly developed panchromatic emulsion, which greatly extended the accurate recording of the full visible spectrum, was then applied to the plate. The exposure was made through the back of the plate, with the dyed potato starch acting as tiny primary color filters. The plate was then developed, re-exposed to light, and finally redeveloped to form a positive transparency made up of tiny grains of the primary colors. Autochrome could be used in any regular plate camera, giving serious amateurs and professionals access to color. Autochrome was the first color process to advance beyond the novelty stage and become commercially successful. It cracked a major aesthetic barrier and was taken seriously for its picturemaking potentialities, enabling professional and amateur photographers to explore the visual possibilities of color, as for example in Albert Kahn’s Archives of the Planet. Between 1909 and 1931, the French banker financed photographic teams who visited over fifty countries and amassed some 72,000 Autochrome plates that documented the diversity of the human condition in color; the collection is housed in Boulogne-Billancourt, a Paris suburb. Kahn’s purpose was not just one of cataloging, ethnography, or reportage, but also inspiring education and universal peace.42 By 1914 National Geographic was using Autochromes to make its first printed color photo-essay. Autochrome provided the missing layers of believability and realism for the system that would

HELEN MESSINGER MURDOCH. A Maid and A Bride of Kandy: Ceylon, 1914. 6½ × 8½ inches. Autochrome. Helen Messinger Murdoch (1862–1956) was one of the most influential women to work with Autochrome. Murdoch’s Autochromes, taken in India and Ceylon (Sri Lanka), comprised the first fullfledged color series to have appeared in the National Geographic Magazine made by a woman photographer. In 1913, the 51-yearold Murdoch decided to embark on a round the world tour—the first woman photographer to make such a journey—making both Autochrome plates and black and white negatives. Though this photograph was taken in 1914, it did not appear in the National Geographic Magazine until 1921 with the caption: “The little girl, still a pupil in school, wears white. The brown sari of the young married woman is a treasured heirloom.” COURTESY  Mark Jacobs Collection.

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FRED PAYNE CLATWORTHY. Hopi Man, 1923. 5 × 7 inches. Autochrome. This Autochrome was published as The Glass of Fashion in Hopi Land in the June 1929 issue of National Geographic as part of a story titled “Photographing The Marvels Of The West In Colors” with the following caption: “Natural color photograph by Fred Payne Clatworthy. Few of the North American Indians attained as high a degree of civilization as did the cliff-dwelling tribes of the Southwest. Among these are the Hopi, a peace-loving people who are industrious, quick to learn, and have a well-developed sense of artistry. The blanket, beads, and silver belt worn by this brave [turn of the century colloquialism for Native American male] are examples of their craftsmanship.” © COURTESY  Mark Jacobs Collection.

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INTERFERENCE METHOD

conduct the twentieth century’s most common forms of public representation. It also opened the door for other commercially successful additive processes including Paget, Finlay, Dufaycolor, and finally Polachrome. Although Autochrome did not render color accurately, its soft, suggestive, pastel representation often connected the democratizing influence of the snapshot with a complex and elusive representational impulse of the time:  Symbolism.43  Symbolism reacted against Positivism, industrialization, and secularism, emphasizing interior states, especially dreams. As we will see in the next chapter, Symbolism emphasized emotions and sensations and would become part of the modernist groundwork for abstract art.

Another process, neither additive nor subtractive, was first presented to the public in 1891 by Jewish French physicist Gabriel Lippmann (1845–1921). Sometimes referred to as “direct color”44  Lippmann and practitioners of his method such as German engineer Hans Lehmann, anthropologist and doctor of medicine Richard Neuhauss, photographer Hermann Krone, and neuroscientist Santiago Ramón y Cajal, among others, made full-color plates using, and at times adjusting, Lippmann’s photographic process. This process is referred to as “interferential color photography,” since the colors

HANS LEHMANN (1875–1917). Fruit Bowl, 1908. 4¾ × 3½ inches. Lippmann process mounted in glass plate with wedge prism at 10-degree angle. In 1908, Gabriel Lippmann was awarded a Nobel Prize for his method of reproducing colors photographically based on the phenomenon of interference. Regrettably the process was slow and difficult, requiring the long exposure times and could not produce multiple copies. Nevertheless, it led to the development of holography. COURTESY

Albert Narath Collection. The Preus Museum, Horten, Norway.

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THE SUBTRACTIVE METHOD

visible in the image are the result of light waves “interfering” with their own reflection. This interference principle allows us to see rainbow colors in soap bubbles or in seashell nacre without the use of colorants or dyes painted onto the photographic surface.45 Though Lippman received the 1908 Nobel Prize in Physics for this work, it was not commercially viable despite attempts by various companies such as the Lumière Brothers and Zeiss. The reasons for this were numerous. Lippmann never wanted to patent his process and it is unclear why this was the case, though this did thwart industrial interest. Also, the emulsion needed to be extremely finegrained. While the average film has 100 to 300 lines per millimeter, the emulsion needed by the Lippmann process had 5,000 lines per millimeter. This made exposure time lengthy, ranging from a couple of minutes to three hours. Also, the process was highly complex and provided inconsistent results. The resulting plates, though compared to jewels and diamonds, were difficult to view due to their surface reflection.

Louis Ducos du Hauron also suggested a method for making color photographs using the subtractive process. The modern subtractive primaries (cyan, magenta, and yellow) are the complementary colors of the three additive primaries (red, green, and blue). When white light is passed through one of the subtractive-colored filters it transmits two of the primaries and absorbs (subtracts) the other. Individually, each subtractive filter transmits twothirds of the spectrum while blocking one-third of it. For example, a magenta filter passes red and blue but blocks green. When two filters are superimposed, they subtract two primaries and transmit one. Magenta and yellow filters block green and blue, allowing red to pass. When all three subtractive primaries overlap in equal amounts, they block all the wavelengths and produce black. When mixed in varying proportions, they are capable of making almost any color. The advantages of the subtractive method over the additive process are twofold: first, it makes it practical for one to make a fullcolor reproduction on paper as the additive color process (RGB) will not function with dyes, ink or pigment printing, and second, it dispenses with the prior need for expensive and cumbersome viewing equipment. Vivex was an early, commercially successful, subtractive color photography process invented by the research chemist Dr. Douglas Arthur Spencer (1901–1979). From 1928 until the start of World War II in 1939, it was manufactured by Colour Photography Ltd, which also operated the first professional color printing service that made about 90 percent of the UK’s color print photography. Technically, Vivex was a wash-off relief process that used three negatives on waxed cellophane, one for each of the subtractive primary colors. The three negative plates could be exposed in sequence using a special automated plate camera back or simultaneously in

The unwanted light reflected from the top surface of the emulsion, interferes with viewing the image – even at the best angle. The best angle and its range are restricted by the angle sensitivity of the interference process. The surface reflection issue was dealt with by cementing a wedge prism on the image. When beholding a Lippmann plate, however, even with a prism, there are special conditions under which the colours may be seen at their best, and viewers must take their time to find the right angle from which its shades will reveal themselves.46

Nevertheless, the use of Lippmann photography’s emulsion for the creation of holograms has garnered the photographic process an afterlife.

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the company’s VIVEX Tri-Colour Camera. After processing, the three negatives were printed on top of one another by hand to obtain the final print. This could cause registration problems, but also permitted color manipulation (see Chapter 11, Madame Yevonde).

of the gelatin and unable to move. This was the first three-layer, subtractive color reversal film that had the color couplers built into the emulsion layers themselves and employed a single developer to make the positive image. This simplified process allowed the photographer to process the film. Kodak countered Agfacolor with its own version of the process, Kodacolor Aero, which became known as Ektachrome in 1946.

subtractive film and chromogenic development

chromogenic negative film and development

Between 1911 and 1914 Rudolf Fischer of Germany, working closely with Karl Schinzel of Austria, invented a color film that had the color-forming ingredients, known as color couplers, incorporated directly into it. This discovery, that color couplers could produce images by chromogenic development, laid the foundation for most color film processes in use today like Fujichrome. In this type of film, known as an integral tri-pack, three layers of emulsion are stacked one on top of another, with each layer sensitive to either red, green, or blue. Through the current E-6 chromogenic development process, consisting of six chemical baths, the color couplers in each layer of the emulsion form a dye image in complementary colors of the original subject. During chromogenic development, the dye image is made at the same time as the silver halide image is developed in the emulsion. The silver image is then bleached away, leaving only the dye, which is fixed to form the final image. The problem with the original RGB color tri-pack was that unwanted migration of the dyes between the three layers could not be prevented, causing color inaccuracies in the completed image. In 1936 Agfa released Agfacolor Neu film, which overcame the problem of migrating color couplers by making their molecules very big. In this manner, they would mix easily with the liquid emulsion during the manufacturing of the film. Once the gelatin that bound them together had set, the color coupler molecules were trapped in the tiny spaces

Agfa brought out a color negative film in 1939 from which positive color prints could be made directly onto a special companion paper, but it was not commercialized. Kodak followed suit in 1942 with Kodacolor, which is considered to be the first marketable subtractive color negative film that completely solved the problem of the color couplers migrating from layer to layer in the emulsion. Color negative films, such as Kodacolor, overcame the limitation of reversal films, where each image was one-of-a-kind, since any number of positive prints could be made from a negative. The processing method created for Kodacolor is, with many improvements, the basis for all color negative film processes utilized today. In this process, called C-41, which Kodak introduced in 1972, a single developer produces a negative silver image and a corresponding dye image in all three layers of the emulsion at the same time. Bleach is used to remove all the silver, leaving only the dye. The film is fixed, washed, and dried, which completes the process of developing the negative.

subtractive process: kodachrome Autochrome remained the color standard until 1935, when Kodak released Kodachrome, the first

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monopack (three-layer emulsion) subtractive color film. Kodachrome is unique because it contains no dye-forming color couplers to produce a color image; instead, they are added during the development process. In this subtractive color method a subject is reproduced in color by superimposing three images, composed from a single exposure, by the subtractive primary colors—magenta, yellow, and cyan. These colors selectively screen out the complementary additive colors—red, blue, and green—that are present in the white light of a photographed scene to form a color image. The subtractive process is the basis for today’s most common multilayer color films, which have image-forming dye couplers built into their emulsion. Kodachrome, with its contrasty high contrast and vivid color palette, became the standard for “natural” color. Even after new and simpler to process emulsions, such as Fujichrome Velvia, became available, Kodachrome remained the go-to film for many photographers until it was discontinued in 2009 due to declining demand as photographers switched from film to digital imaging.

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When Talbot announced his invention of photography in 1839, he seems to have anticipated this ability of the photograph to stop action, and he seems to have pondered whether stop-action images might change viewers’ long-held beliefs and perceptions. In his “Some Account of the Art of Photogenic Drawing” (1839), in Andrew E. Hershberger, ed.,  Photographic Theory: An Historical Anthology  (Boston, MA and Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell, 2014), p. 40, Talbot stated: “The most transitory of things, a shadow, the proverbial emblem of all that is fleeting and momentary, may be fettered by the spells of our ‘natural magic,’ and may be fixed for ever in the position which it seemed only destined for a single instant to occupy. This remarkable phænomenon … conducts us at length to consequences altogether unexpected, remote from usual experience, and contrary to almost universal belief.” In the nineteenth century, industrialists began to replace royalty and religious leaders as patrons of the arts, often

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hiring photographers to document and commemorate their achievements. “A Horse Photographed at Full Speed,” reprinted in Photographic News, vol. 21, no. 994 (September 21, 1877), 455–56. Muybridge’s work with Stanford ceased in 1879. In 1882, while Muybridge was in Europe, Stanford published the work as The Horse in Motion with a text written by Dr. J. D. B. Stillman. The introduction Muybridge had written was not used, relegating him to the role of a technician and damaging his ability to secure European backing. He initiated a lawsuit for copyright infringement, which he lost in 1885. Persistence of vision is the optical phenomenon where the illusion of motion is created because the brain interprets multiple still images as one. When multiple images appear in fast enough succession, the brain blends them into a single, persistent, moving image. The human eye and brain can only process about 12 separate images per second, retaining an image for 1/16 of a second. If a subsequent image is replaced during this time frame, an illusion of continuity is created. Eakins’s specially built single-lens wheel, or disk, camera had a single revolving plate based on the  photographic revolver. The lens was located inside a large gun barrel behind which were placed two slotted-disk shutters. The first shutter had twelve slots and made a continuous revolution in eighteen seconds. The second shutter had a single slot in an anchored position. A circular daguerreotype plate was installed behind the shutters. A handle activated the clockwork gearing system, producing an exposure every one-and-a-half seconds when the two slots overlapped, or 48 in 72 seconds. By the end of the summer he began using an improved two-plate disk camera. Marta Braun, Picturing Time: The Work of Étienne-Jules Marey  (1830–1904) (Chicago, IL: The University of Chicago Press, 1992), 238. See Sarah Gordon, Indecent Exposures: Eadweard Muybridge’s “Animal Locomotion” Nudes  (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2015). Aaron Scharf,  Art and Photography  (New York:Viking Penguin, 1986), 226. First published in Great Britain by Allen Lane, The Penguin Press, 1968. For more on the representation of movement in the late nineteenth century see Josh Ellenbogen, “Educated Eyes and Impressed Images,” Art History, vol. 33, no. 3 ( June 2010), 490–511.

seizing the light

22 For a contemporary interpretation of this situation in

11 See Marta Braun, Picturing Time, Introduction, xix. 12 See also Bergson’s “The Cinematographical Mechanism

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of Thought and the Mechanistic Illusion…” (1907) in Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 108–12. The focal-plane shutter consists of one or more opaque springloaded roller blinds closely mounted to the surface of the film inside the camera. When the shutter release is activated, a narrow slit in the curtain moves across the back of the camera, progressively exposing the film. It is used by most single-lens-reflex cameras. Richard Leach Maddox, “An Experiment with Gelatino-Bromide,” British Journal of Photography, vol. 18, no. 592 (September 8, 1871), 422–23. The Philadelphia Photographer, vol. 20, no. 237 (September 1883), 305–6. Quoted in William Bates Ferguson,  The Photographic Researches of Ferdinand Hurter and Vero C. Driffield  (London: The Royal Photographic Society of Great Britain, 1920), 6. See also Hurter and Driffield’s “Photo-Chemical Investigations and a New Method of Determination of the Sensitiveness of Photographic Plates” (1890) in Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 96–99. In addition, see Peter Henry Emerson’s reaction to their 1890 article specifically, and to Hurter and Driffield’s research generally, in Emerson’s “The Death of Naturalistic Photography” (1890), 88–90. Ibid., 76; or Hershberger, Photographic Theory, 97. Gaslight paper is the old name for gelatin silver chloride contact printing paper. Introduced when gaslight was the normal source of artificial illumination, gaslight paper was slow enough to be handled under dim artificial light but sensitive enough to be exposed by brighter artificial light. When making a print, a regular gas jet was set to low during preparation, turned up to full intensity for making the exposure, and turned back down for processing. Initially made popular by amateurs, its convenience made it a professional favorite as well. Alfred Stieglitz took note of this development in his article “The Hand Camera—Its Present Importance” (1896) in Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 91–93. George Eastman, “The Kodak Manual,” manuscript, Richard and Ronay Menschel Library, George Eastman Museum, Rochester, NY. George Bernard Shaw, “Preface, Photographs by Mr. Alvin Langdon Coburn, 1906” in Bill Jay and Margaret Moore, eds.,  Bernard Shaw on Photography  (Salt Lake City: Gibbs Smith Publisher, 1989), 103.

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the paintings of Gerhard Richter, see Rosemary Hawker, “The Idiom in Photography as the Truth in Painting” (2002) in Hershberger, ed.,  Photographic Theory, 394–98. “The Camera Epidemic,”  The New York Times, August 20, 1884. http://query.nytimes.com/mem/ archive-free/pdf ?res=9F07E4DD1338E033A25753C2A96E-9C94659FD7CF The Amateur Photographer, September 25, 1885, 397. Reprinted from an unnamed American periodical. For anthologies see Peter E. Palmquist,  Camera Fiends and Kodak Girls I: 50 Selections by and About Women in Photography 1840–1930 and Camera Fiends and Kodak Girls II: 60 Selections by and About Women in Photography 1855–1965 (New York: Midmarch Arts Press, 1989 and 1995). The Photographic News, vol. 35, no. 1717 ( July 31, 1891), 544. The Amateur Photographer, vol. 53, no. 1357 (October 4, 1910), 340. The Photographic News, “Talk in the Studio,” ( July 18, 1879), 348. Photo-Miniature, vol. 2, no. 21 (December 1900), 396. Alexander Black, “Miss Jerry” (a picture-play), Scribner’s, vol. 18 (1895), 357. Sir J. F W. Herschel, “Instantaneous Photography,” Photographic News, vol. 4, no. 88 (May 11, 1860), 13. See: Paul Fisher. The Man Who Invented Motion Pictures: A True Tale of Obsession, Murder, and the Movies (New York: Simon & Schuster), 2022. Press release from The Smithsonian’s National Museum of American History (NMAH), the Getty Conservation Institute (GCI), and the Getty Foundation, October 29, 2007. www.getty.edu/news/press/center/ hillotypes_release_102307.html. Also, see Amanda Fiegl, “A 160-Year-Old Photographic Mystery,” Smithsonian Magazine (April 2010) www.smithsonianmag. com/arts-culture/a-160-year-old-photographic-mystery-8994798/?no-ist James Newman,  Harmonious Colouring As Applied to Photographs (London: W. Kent & Co., 1859). Keith F Davis,  The Origins of American Photography: From Daguerreotype to Dry-Plate, 1839–1885  (Kansas City: The Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art, 2007), 62. Herbert Keppler, “The Horrible Fate of Levi Hill: Inventor of Color Photography,” Popular Photography, vol. 58, no. 7 ( July 1994), 42–43, 140.

chapter eight : new ways of visualizing time , space , and color

37 James Clerk Maxwell, “On the theory of three primary

40 Louis Walton Sipley,  A Half Century of Color  (New

colours,” Lecture at the Royal Institution of Great Britain, May 17, 1861.  Notices of the Proceedings of the Royal Institution of Great Britain, 1861, Vol. 3, 370–74, reprinted in W. D. Niven, ed., “The Scientific Papers of James Clerk Maxwell,” Vol. 1 (Cambridge: Cambridge University, Press, 1890), 445–50. 38 E. J. Wall, The History of Three-Color Photography (New York: American Photographic Publishing Company, 1925, and London & New York: Focal Press reprint, 1970), 2–4. Based on reports in  Photo. Notes  (1861), 169 and British Journal of Photography, vol. 8 (1861), 272. Alfred Stieglitz, “The New Color Photography—A Bit of History,” Camera Work, vol. 20 (October 1907), 20. 39 This principle is described in Hanin Hannouch, “Three-Colour Photography around 1900,” PhotoResearch, No. 37, 2022, 4, www.eshph.org/journal/ wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2022/01/PHR_37_editorial_hanin_hannouch_gustav_fritsch_around_1900_ nils_torske_in_conversation_with_hanin_hannouch. pdf

York: Macmillan, 1951) and Sipley’s  Frederic E. Ives: Photo-Graphic-Arts-Inventor  (Philadelphia, PA: The American Museum of Photography, 1956). www.loc.gov/exhibits/empire/gorskii.html. See David Okuefuna, The Dawn of the Color Photograph: Albert Kahn’s Archives of the Planet  (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2008), 7. See John Wood,  The Art of the Autochrome: The Birth of Color Photography (Iowa City, IA: University of Iowa Press, 1993), 6–8. Jack H. Coote, The Illustrated History of Colour Photography (Surbiton, Surrey, England: Fountain Press, 1993), 11. Hanin Hannouch, Gabriel Lippmann’s Colour Photography: A Critical Introduction. In: Hanin Hannouch, ed., Gabriel Lippmann’s Colour Photography: Science, Media, Museums (Amsterdam University Press, 2022), 8. Ibid., 21.

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CHAPTER NINE

Suggesting the Subject: The Evolution of Pictorialism

RO OTS OF PICTORIALISM : SYMBOLISM

and thus command “a higher money value … for his work.”2 At the time, artists, disenchanted with claims of the omnipotence of scientific observation and deduction, were searching for ways to express abstract and subjective viewpoints. This also, it seemed, could be good for the photographic professional. If the role of a trained photographer switched from depicting an objective likeness to portraying subjective conditions that revealed an inner state of the subject, then the expressive abilities of the individual photographer took on added significance, becoming as important as the subject before the lens. This elevated the stature of the maker of the photograph as one with a rich inner life that is expressed through the image over the taker of the “mere” snapshooter who is concerned with the external world. This made the name of the photographer a viable commodity, someone who provided the customer with a unique artistic vision. Throughout the arts, a loss of faith in science and technology occurred, a loss communicated by the banishment of literalness and scientific objectivism. This led to the rise of  Symbolism, a revolt against realism and its minute descriptions of an objective, external reality. The symbolists turned inward to express the shifting, subtle state of the human psyche, using symbols and metaphors to evoke and suggest personal emotions in place of

By the 1880s, public fascination with photographic reality was losing some of its luster as hordes of snapshooters could now make their own photographs. People were questioning the previously semi-magical position of professional photographers and the level of intelligence, sensitivity, and skill required to make photographs. The photographer’s status as a shaman had suffered a body blow. The professional portrait business declined as amateurs made more photographs of people. The photography studios needed something to restore their authority and their business. In response, organizations such as the Photographers’ Association of America formed (1880) to “reach out beyond the chemistry, optics, art, and mechanics of our art-science, and take hold of the morals of the craft.” In particular, they wanted to encourage all in the profession to “respect themselves more, and the public to honor us in a larger degree than they have.”1  In order to access this honor, schools like the Chicago College of Photography (1881) validated a photographer’s skills by offering certificate courses in photography. A graduate would presumably “possess the art, character, and tone” of a knowledgeable professional

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documenting them. Instead of Positivism, they allowed spiritualism and the role of dreams to be their guide. Symbolist artists and writers such as Charles Baudelaire, whose subtle poems spoke of the world as a magical “forest of symbols,” believed allusion and suggestion, rather than delineation and description, evoked the imagination and raised their work above the mechanics of objective description. As long as viewers perceived photography as based only on reality, the photograph was expected to be sharp and precise, for this was science; but if the offering of ideas in a photograph had a basis in the arts, then the photograph had the prerogative of being allusive and suggestive.

to elevate the status of photographic art was shared by a movement known as pictorialism, which was founded on his premise that camera images could engage the senses and emotions in a naturalistic manner.5  Naturalism explains all phenomena through natural forces rather than the supernatural, and looks for causes instead of reasons. When applied to the arts, naturalism asks that the artist, like the scientist, should observe and record dispassionately. According to Emerson’s naturalistic theory of photography, enduring art is made directly from nature; the artist’s role is to imitate these effects on the eye. Emerson believed photography had shortcomings, but “in capable hands” it could be “a work of Art.” Emerson’s method was to photograph his subjects within their natural environment, without so-called artificial manipulations, relying on the selection of subject, lighting, framing, and selective focusing to make an artistic camera image. Emerson followed up his lecture with  Life and Landscape on the Norfolk Broads, a limited folio edition of forty platinum prints that put his ideas into practice through his portrayal of the amphibious life of the marsh dwellers of East Anglia.6  The  platinum process  is a contact printing process in which the image is partially printed out with ultraviolet radiation. After exposure the image is chemically developed out to completion.7  These “straight”—that is, containing no overt post-camera manipulation of the photographic materials—formally composed photographs recorded the customs and manners of Fenland people. The prints were accompanied by text written by Emerson and the painter T. F. Goodall, his guide and friend. The text described the landscape and documented the disappearing customs of these working rural people, often in their own voice. Created on location, the prints’ feeling of immediacy was in unswerving opposition to Robinson’s strictures for constructed pictures.8 Emerson released six more books on the Norfolk Broads, illustrated with  photogravures, or photoetchings, a photomechanical process invented

PICTORIALISM AND NATURALISM During the 1880s, amateurs were heavily influenced by the ideas of Henry Peach Robinson and technologists concerned with process dominated photography, and artistic practice slid into the doldrums.3  For Robinson a photograph was not dependent on the subject, but was controlled by the photographer. His combination photographs required both conceptual and technical expertise that mixed the real and the artificial, leading to the advent of pictorial photography at the expense of other approaches. Peter Henry Emerson  (1856– 1936) reacted to the combination printers and the incoming tidal wave of amateur work in March 1886 with a lecture at The Camera Club in London entitled “Photography, A Pictorial Art.”4  Therein Emerson attacked the self-conscious, painting-derived compositions favored by the chief arbiters of artistic and photographic taste, John Ruskin and H. P. Robinson. Emerson saw photography as an independent medium combining art and science, and the photographer as the one who determines the camera’s own intrinsic attributes. Emerson’s goal

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PETER HENRY EMERSON. Coming Home from the Marshes, 1886. 7 7⁄8 x 1117⁄16 inches. Platinum print. To situate his subjects within their environment, Emerson often made views that incorporated the foreground. Visually, he presented the elemental forces of nature as all-encompassing while simultaneously leading the viewer to the main figures of the composition. COURTESY  The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles, CA.

by Henry Fox Talbot that became commercially viable around 1880. To make a photogravure, an original negative is etched (via a gelatin relief image) into a metal plate, inked, and printed in an etching press. Often regarded as a direct photographic printing method, photogravure was popular with many pictorialists in the 1890s and 1900s for its ability to maintain subtle tonal variations and its delicate luminosity. It also alleviated the problem of making thousands of platinum prints while delivering a softer and more artistic rendition, proving that photography required the same creative energies and skills as painting.

In his highly didactic  Naturalistic Photography for Students of the Art  (1889), Emerson counseled developing negatives the day they were taken, while the experience was still fresh, and scorned the handheld camera, combination printing, enlarging, retouching, and vignetting in favor of the delicate detail of a contact print made in platinum or photogravure. However, Emerson did state, Though it is far preferable to obtain the clouds on the same negative, and this is quite easy in orthochromatic photography, it is, if you use great judgment, admissible to print in clouds from a separate negative, but this

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“TO ALL PHOTOGRAPHERS,” requesting forgiveness from his supporters and from those he had attacked. Emerson said that he had misinterpreted Hurter and Driffield’s study of exposure, development, and speed of materials (see Chapter 8) and had therefore failed to understand how tonal values and particularly density ratios could mostly be manipulated through the initial exposure.12 This mistake led Emerson to incorrectly conclude that the maker could not control photography, that photographers could not be artists, and that the medium “must always rank the lowest of all arts.”13  Emerson’s retraction was quickly reprinted (probably in February) in a pamphlet,  The Death of Naturalistic Photography. After this episode, Emerson quit publicly campaigning for photography as an independent art form. However, he continued, until the turn of the century, to make and publish photographs that reflected his belief that photographic art resulted from the direct recording of natural subjects in their surroundings, making viewers aware of a way of life they might never otherwise recognize and appreciate. Emerson’s ideas marked the beginnings of a modernist aesthetic philosophy, one modeled on human vision instead of the mechanical objectivity of the camera. This philosophy would guide photography into a dialogue with modern art movements that were also influenced by optical theories, such as Impressionism.

requires an intimate knowledge of out-door effects, and the clouds must be taken in a particular way.9

While Emerson’s choices in printing processes were respected, his theory of differential focus, loosely derived from the numerous optical discoveries made by Hermann von Helmholtz about the structure and action of the eye, caused consternation. Emerson believed that only the central portion of the human field of vision is sharp and that the borders are “only roughly sketched in.”10 Nothing in nature has a hard outline, but everything is seen against something else, and its outlines fade gently into that something else, often so subtly that you cannot quite distinguish where one ends and the other begins. In this mingled decision and indecision, this lost and found, lies all the charm and mystery of nature.11

To reproduce this effect, Emerson instructed photographers to make images slightly out of focus, so the subject would be “just as sharp as the eye sees it and no sharper,” while all other parts of the picture would be “subdued.” These recommendations, which combine bits of science and mysticism, renewed debate about how to create “art” photographs. Emerson’s working style proved difficult in the hands of the less sensitive or skilled and his focusing methods, developed in moist, light-scattering English air, did not take into account such effects in different climates. Emerson’s statement combined with the continued misinterpretation of Sir William Newton’s “Upon Photography in an Artistic View …” (1853) led many amateurs to confuse out of focus with “art” (see Chapter 3). Many applied numerous techniques to manufacture a “look,” referred to as “fuzzygraphs,” without the content. Emerson engaged in heated editorial battles with those who disagreed with his ideas until January 1890, when he suddenly recanted his position in letters to major photographic magazines, addressed

THE DEVELOPMENT OF PICTORIAL EFFECT AND PHOTO GRAPHY CLUBS The pictorialist movement thrived between 1889 and the start of World War I by stressing beauty over fact. Optical sharpness and exact replication of subjects were seen as inhibitors of individual expression. The movement broke with Emerson and other purists as many of its practitioners embraced

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its expressive implications and tactile suggestiveness, thus asserting control over their craft during a time of commercial standardization. Their prints convey visual information emotionally due to a strong physical presence based on tonality, texture, and the manipulation of detail. To counter what they considered to be the anonymous qualities of photography, artistically minded photographers embraced the allegorical and genre traditions of painting. Relying on light and line, these photographers sought to make sensitive and intuitive images that symbolically communicated what could not be stated in words.  George Davison (1854–1930) advocated for photographic impressionism, the renouncing of objectivity and realistic representation as in Impressionistic painting, in favor of transitory visual impressions. To

the hand manipulation of the print as a meaningful aspect of self-expression. The pictorialists asserted that their photographs were the equivalent of art works in other media and should receive equal treatment by the art establishment. The 1890s saw the evolution of “pictorial effect” based on the methods of the painters from the  Barbizon School, such as Jean-François Millet (1814–1875), whose softened brushwork created atmospheric effects. Pictorialists wanted unique images that relied on post-camera techniques, linking their work with the public’s expectations of a one-of-a-kind masterpiece. The pictorialists favored processes like carbon, gum-bichromate, platinum, and later  bromoil14  that  allowed considerable leeway for interpreting the negative. They preferred printing on hand-coated artist paper for

GEORGE DAVISON. The Onion Field, Mersea Island, Essex, 1890. 6 1⁄8 × 8 inches. Photogravure. George Davison’s The Onion Field visually embodies the painterly principles of photographic impressionism that emphasized mood. The concept was controversial with those who felt it became an imitative process that betrayed the true nature of photography and disparaged such works as the “school of foggy photography.” Emerson criticized it severely: “photographic impressionism indeed!—a term consecrated to charlatans and especially to photographic imposters [sic], pickpockets, parasites, and vanity-intoxicated amateurs.”15 COURTESY  The Royal Photographic Society Collection, Bristol, England.

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THE SECESSION MOVEMENT AND THE RISE OF PHOTO GRAPHY CLUBS

create images directly from nature, Davison substituted a pinhole for the lens on his camera. Davison’s stylistic synthesis of naturalistic subject matter and Impressionistic strategies that concentrated on  effect  rather than the “facts” of the land and its inhabitants, influenced others. His ideas induced the Vienna Club der Amateur-Photographen to mount a major exhibition in 1891 of artistic photographs juried by painters and sculptors. This show established a model for exhibiting photographs based on their aesthetic qualities that was adopted by salons throughout Europe. The photographer’s ability to suppress unwanted detail, add colors, alter the tonal range, and synthesize negatives showed that photography could be an art, subject to the will and hand of the maker, the same way a painting is subject to the painter’s unique mix of shades in his/her individual palette. If the photograph was not limited to presenting reality, then the relationship between the photographer, the subject, and the viewer was up for grabs. By defying expectations, the pictorialists created a breach between photography and science, cleaving artist/photographers from amateurs, professionals, scientists, and technicians. For pictorialists, the most important thing was not the subject in front of the lens, but how the artist controlled images to express ideas regarding the subject and what this control was thought to reveal about the artist’s mood, expression, and inner world. By separating photography from its scientific history, the pictorialists broke the link between the photograph and outer reality, challenging photography’s machinelike authenticity. Although the work of many those who pursued pictorialism never rose above the imitation of other art forms, the movement increased the discussion about the aesthetic character of photography, enhanced awareness of the medium’s specific attributes, and encouraged contemplation of photography’s relationship to the modern world.

The early 1890s saw the commercial and scientific values of earlier photographic (and art) societies challenged by supporters of the new aesthetics who organized themselves in camera clubs. These clubs and movements filled a power vacuum of their own making, creating their own local authorities to bestow the status of art on a picture, changing the amateur movement into a “high art” undertaking with its own aesthetic, social networks, exhibitions, publications, writers, and critics. For example, reformist aesthetic notions gained popularity under the  Art Nouveau  movement (1880–1914). Art Nouveau rejected the academic painting of historical events and scenes from legends and literature and withdrew from the uniform, mechanical vulgarity of the industrial age; instead, they promoted the arts as an indispensable part of daily life. This was done through aesthetic self-improvement clubs that encouraged the collecting of splendid objects and the pursuit of music, poetry, and picturemaking. Photography offered members of this new “Aesthetic Club Movement” a way to bring art into their daily lives by becoming picturemakers without years of training. The  Secession movement  reflected the disenchantment of younger artists with the practices and exhibition policies of established Western art societies, and it led to the formation of alternative institutions in Berlin, Munich, and Vienna, among other places. One of the effects of the Industrial Revolution was the rise of the bourgeoisie and a larger audience for the arts, one with disposable capital and leisure time. Knowing this, the Secession movement in photography led to the creation of the Wiener Kamera Klub in 1891, the Linked Ring in London in 1892, the Photo-Club de Paris in 1894, and the Photo-Secession in New York in

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1902. Such clubs were made up mostly of amateurs who paid for their membership and as a result they gave their clubs financial autonomy and aesthetic independence from commercial interests. This also meant that these camera clubs often operated on terms of social class exclusion, catering more to the educated upper-middle class and/or to aristocrats with financial and cultural capital to leverage their ideas. Ironically, this insinuated that the professionals’ aesthetic sense could not be trusted as their values had been compromised by the exchange of money. Such attitudes widened the gulf within the field between amateurs and professionals and with it two different approaches to photography as art and as technology/science respectively. The Brotherhood of the Linked Ring, a loose group of photographers disenchanted with the Photographic Society of London’s exhibition practices, was one of the most influential secession groups. The “Links” found alternative venues to display and promote photography as an independent medium whose works could be evaluated in their own context and terms rather than by their ability to imitate other media. This privileged club (membership by invitation only) was founded by educated men, including Emerson, Robinson, Alfred Maskell, George Davison, and Alfred Horsley Hinton, the editor of Amateur Photographer, a magazine begun in 1884 as the first one to cater to amateurs. Their first exhibition of some 300 prints in 1893 generated a stir for being mindfully hung asymmetrically, breaking with the Photographic Society’s Victorian tradition of cramming pictures of different sizes and subject matter frame to frame from the floor to the ceiling. The Links wanted more stringent exhibition standards: They were fed up with displaying all types of photographs on a gallery wall, awarding medals to mediocre formula pictures, and using non-photographers to jury show entries. To this end, they adopted a motto: “no medals and rigid selection.” The Links wanted to separate utilitarian work, whose goal was to record facts, from aesthetic

photographs, whose goal was to express beauty—a combination of qualities, such as color, form, and pattern that appeals to the aesthetic senses, particularly that of sight. They sought “complete emancipation of pictorial photography … from the retarding … bondage of that which was purely scientific or technical [so it could pursue] its development as an independent art.”16 Their annual Salon of Pictorial Photography continued to be an important exhibition venue until the group dissolved in 1910. In 1893, Alfred Lichtwark (1852–1914), director of the Kunsthalle in Hamburg, Germany, put together the “First International Exhibition of Amateur Photographs” in a museum setting. Believing that only amateurs had the economic freedom and time for experimentation, Lichtwark displayed 6,000 amateur photographs in hopes of revitalizing the art of photographic portraiture, which he felt had become artificial and formally constrained. Lichtwark wanted to use artistic amateur photography to infuse portrait painting and commercial illustration with innovative concepts and heightened aesthetic standards. The time was right for an international network of pictorial photographers to begin promoting their pictorial concepts and to exhibit and publish each other’s work, thereby spreading their personal influence and recognition. Even though this network possessed the reciprocal nature of a “good old boys” club, other photographers looked to these groups for direction and paid the compliment of imitation. Photo clubs and publications mushroomed. In 1880 there were about ten camera clubs or societies in the United States composed mostly of people with professional connections to the field. By 1895, there were over 150 such groups, made up largely of white, upper-middle-class amateurs who could afford the equipment, supplies, and annual membership due. Although women such as Gertrude Käsebier were active in these groups, many members asserted that a woman’s place was

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WORKING PICTORIALLY: A VARIETY OF APPROACHES

in the home, leading some women to challenge their limited opportunities and the unequal treatment they often endured. An early proponent for women in  photography, Catharine Weed Barnes (1851– 1913), wrote an article on “Why Ladies Should be Admitted to Membership in Photographic Societies” (1889); therein she called on photographic establishments “to give us a fair field and no favor … [as] the day is coming … when only one question will be asked as to any photographic work—‘Is it well done?’ ”17  Many clubs did not permit professionals to join either, fearing they would use the club to promote their own work and inventions, but kept close ties to the photographic industry. The photographic industry, recognizing that amateur artistic ambitions could translate into increased sales of equipment and supplies, began to advertise in amateur publications and to sponsor shows featuring serious amateur photographers. The aim was to imply that anyone could make photographic art by investing in the proper equipment and materials. Publications plugged their advertisers’ goods. Product ads sometimes headlined the endorsement of a well-known photographer. Commercial support added credibility to the small artistic movement and amplified its message. The January 1905 issue of Camera Work contained a full-page editorial announcement: “The reader of  Camera Work  who does not buy through these pages does himself an injustice—good photography depends much upon good material and up-to-date methods.” Thus, even those artists who desired separation from commercial interests found themselves somewhat tied to them just like many other photographers.

Robert Demachy  (1859–1936) was a wealthy European amateur who took up photography in 1880, championing the pictorialist cause in Paris with an outpouring of prints and articles. Demachy, a founding member of the Photo-Club de Paris, along with his English cohort, Alfred Maskell (born circa 1857, active 1890s), exhibited prints made with the gum bichromate process at the group’s first show, the French Photographic Salon. In the gum bichromate process a negative is placed over a support material that has been coated with gum arabic containing a pigment (watercolor or tempera) and with a light-sensitive  chemical (ammonium or potassium dichromate). The negative is then exposed to UV radiation. Gum arabic is hardened by such exposure and made insoluble in direct proportion to the density of the negative. The areas that are not hardened remain water-soluble and are washed away, along with the unneeded pigment, during development. The hardened areas are left intact and bond the pigment to the support. Control of the final image can be exercised through choice of paper stock and color plus pigment, by localized development, by recoating the support with a different color, or by using different negatives for additional exposures. It can also be combined with other processes, such as platinum, to create greater visual depth. Brushstrokes are often left visible, giving the print a handworked look that can replicate the appearance of a sketch or a watercolor painting. The process was created in 1855 by Alphonse Louis Poitevin (1819–1882), but was recast in 1894 by A. Rouillé-Ladévèze (active 1884–1894), from whom Demachy learned the process. Gum printing was popularized by the pictorialists under the name Photo-Aquatint and was used from the 1890s through the 1920s. The process was inexpensive, as it contained no silver

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ROBERT DEMACHY. Portrait of a Young Girl, circa 1900–1914. 4 11⁄16 x 4 7⁄16 inches. Gum bichromate print. COURTESY  The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles, CA.

metal salts, and was very permanent. It experienced a revival in the late 1960s and again during the early twenty-first century as part of a resurgence in alternative processes. After making its debut in the pictorial arena, gum printing was embraced for the controls it provided in constructing a print for pictorial effect. The promoting of the pictorial cause led to Demachy’s election to the Linked Ring in 1895. Maskell, a founding member of the Links, collaborated with Demachy on Photo Aquatint, or The Gum Bichromate Process  (1897), a guide for pictorial imagemakers. Opponents dismissed their work as “fakery,” but both men defended gum printing by pointing out how the alteration of negatives and prints was by then a photographic tradition in the form of hand applied color, adding clouds, vignettes, and posing portraits against hand-painted backdrops.

Demachy’s prints, ranging from portraits to nudes to urban landscapes, often reverberated with the impressionistic style and always revealed the hand of their maker. Technically brilliant, Demachy was disdainful of the clarity of detail and the automatic traces of reality in the “straight,” unmanipulated print and defended the painterly image: A straight print may be beautiful, and it may prove super-abundantly that its author is an artist; but it cannot be a work of art… A work of art must be a transcription, not a copy of nature… there is not a particle of art in the most beautiful scene of nature. The art is man’s alone, it is subjective not objective. If a man slavishly copies nature, no matter if it is with hand and pencil or through a photographic lens, he may be a supreme artist all the while, but that particular work of his cannot be called a work of art.18

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His characteristic style featured bold, emblematic compositions on textured paper, printed with inviting brown or blue hues. His approach, to sometimes photograph from above eye level, broke with the stagnant habits of professional portraitists and began a progressive photographic movement in Germany that reflected the concerns of similar pictorial groups that sprang up worldwide. But pictorialism was not exclusively about manual alteration of negatives and prints. During the early 1880s another amateur,  Frederick H. Evans  (1853–1943), studied photography with George Smith, a specialist in microphotography (scientific photography utilizing a microscope) and a zealous “purist” who believed that “any artistic effect desired can be faithfully done by pure photography without any retouching whatever.”20 Evans absorbed Smith’s lessons and championed straightfrom-the-camera photography.21  Evans’s aesthetic concepts were rooted in the Arts and Crafts Movement  that thrived in Europe and North America between 1880 and 1910 by stressing the dignity of work, the beauty of fine materials, and the spiritual importance of the pre-industrial age (see Decadent Movement and Tonalism section later in this chapter). In 1895, Evans began a photographic meditation on medieval cathedrals in England and France. He mastered tight compositions, often through the use of repeating lines, capturing a strong sense of chiaroscuro. His exquisite sense of space and volume gave his interior views, laden with physical texture, a sensation of magnificent uplift. His exterior cathedral prints could transcend earthbound architectural detail and give the viewer a visual sense of a spiraling medieval spirit reaching up to the heavens. In this series Evans favored the early morning light and he used neutral density filters to extend exposure times in order to give the impression that the images were made when the cathedrals were first erected. If something entered his field of view that “dated” the image, Evans capped his lens, waited for

HEINRICH KÜHN. Portrait of Lotte [the artist’s daughter], 1906. 20 3⁄8 x 15 1⁄16 inches. Gum bichromate print. COURTESY  The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles, CA.

The “Trifolium” of the Vienna Kamera-Club, formed in 1896 and active until 1903, was a collective made up of  Heinrich Kühn  (1866–1944),19 Hugo Henneberg (1863–1918), and Hans Watzek (1848–1903). They adopted Demachy’s gum process and exhibited under the collective known as  Das Kleeblatt  (Clover-leaf ) and were a driving force of the Austro-German secession/pictorialist movement. Kühn, an amateur since 1879 and a member of the Linked Ring, created multilayered landscapes and portraits in gum and, later, oil-pigment printing (a variation of the bromoil process).

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FREDERICK H. EVANS. Kelmscott Manor: In the Attics (No.1), 1896. 6 1⁄8 x 7 15⁄16 inches. Platinum print. Evans counseled photographers to “Try for a record of emotion rather than a piece of topography. Wait till the building makes you feel intensely … then try and analyse what gives you that feeling, see if it is due to the isolation of some particular aspect or effect, and then see what your camera can do towards reproducing that effect, that subject.”22 COURTESY  The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles, CA.

the unwanted object to leave, then uncapped the lens and continued the exposure, purging evidence of the contemporary world, leaving only the beautiful and the eternal. His Kelmscott Attic pictures transform a utilitarian space into a marvelous, sacred site much like a cathedral and are unprecedented in their luxurious delicacy, detail, and subtle brilliance. Elected to the Linked Ring in 1900, Evans installed the group’s 1902 Salon in an extraordinarily unusual fashion. After covering the walls with

canvas, Evans used two-inch-wide battens to make vertical divisions, suspended white cloth beneath the skylight to diffuse the light, and grouped pictures on the vertical panels without regard to authorship. The care manifested by the presentation signaled that the photographs were works of art. One critic wrote, “Each section of the wall is itself a sermon in massing and composition.”23 Evans hung the next three Salons, initiating a reevaluation about how photographs were presented in galleries.

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emphasize the two-dimensional flatness of the image by sharply focusing on nonessential objects, making them stand out, while placing the main subject in the background and out of focus, destroying traditional visual hierarchies. Between 1908 and 1912, Dubreuil experimented with abstraction by using his camera to fragment key subjects within the scene, as in his Interpretation Picasso: The Railway (1911). Here Dubreuil diagonally printed a negative of a locomotive and repeatedly effaced the surface of the print with a rectangular form, producing a transparent overlapping of geometric planes. This projection of the rectangular form introduced abstraction of the subject and provided one of the critical ingredients—the other being the return to sharp focus—that would redefine modernism in photography around 1916.

AMERICAN PERSPECTIVES PIERRE DUBREUIL. Interpretation Picasso: The Railway, 1911.

While the clash for photography as an independent art was being waged in Europe, American photographers continued to improve commercial photography, leaving the culturally high-minded looking to Europe for inspiration. In 1881, Alfred Stieglitz  (1864–1946) went to Berlin to study mechanical engineering. There he met Hermann Wilhelm Vogel, whose experiments with ortho­ chromatic emulsions and whose active role in photographic societies convinced Stieglitz to pursue photography. Under Vogel, Stieglitz became a master technician and learned about pictorial photography. Returning to America in 1890, Stieglitz decided to pursue a life in photography that would take him to the forefront of the crusade for photography’s acceptance as an independent art medium. The struggle for the independence of photography in the New World held special appeal for a first American-born son of a Jewish immigrant

COURTESY  Centre Georges Pompidou, Paris.

Another major influence on pictorialism was Japanese art, referred to as  Japonism, which came to Europe after the opening of Japan by Commodore Perry in 1854. Western painters incorporated the Japanese printmakers’ use of clear and vibrant color,  forceful outline, foreshortened and aerial perspectives, and asymmetrical and cropped compositions at the same time that many of these devices were also being discovered through photography. Many of these attributes can be seen in work by Pierre Dubreuil (1872–1944), an affluent amateur known at the turn of the century for his soft-focus, impressionist,  oil-pigment prints24  with the Photo-Club de Paris and later as a “Link.” Around 1908, Dubreuil’s compositions began to

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ALFRED STIEGLITZ. The Terminal, 1893. 10 × 13 1⁄8 inches. Photogravure. This tightly composed photograph, with its anonymous people, expressed Stieglitz’s sense of alienation upon returning to New York after spending nearly a decade in Europe. Stieglitz wrote: “I found myself in front of the old Post Office. The Third Avenue street railway and the Madison Avenue car systems had their terminals there, opposite the old Astor House. It was extremely cold. Snow lay on the ground. A driver in a rubber coat was watering his steaming street car horses. How fortunate the horses seemed, having a human being to tend them. The steaming horses being watered on a cold winter day, the snow-covered streets, [expressed] my own sense of loneliness in my own country.”25 COURTESY  The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles, CA.

like Stieglitz, a passionate idealist who wanted to leave  behind many customs of the old country. Although Stieglitz did not practice Judaism, one can speculate how Jewish culture might have influenced him. Since Judaism is based on the word and not the image, Stieglitz’s making of photographs could be interpreted as an act of rebellion against the authority of the Old Testament, a rejection of Judaism’s fear

of the eye; in effect, Stieglitz said “no” to the taboo on graven images.26 By indirect mechanical means, the camera allowed Stieglitz to break this prohibition and embrace Christian use of imagery (without endorsing its history of church-sponsored art or its doctrines) on a new, wide-open playing field. This enabled Stieglitz to fulfill a role as a “chosen one,” guiding photographers out of the slavery of old

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practices and across the sea to a new vision. Stieglitz could be a rabbi (teacher), leading services of a new monotheistic, aesthetic order. Instead of studying the Torah and writing expositions, Stieglitz would polemicize and publish the order of modernism from the position of the persecuted outsider. Instead of being tormented by antisemites, Stieglitz was harassed by uncultured barbarians. As editor of The American Amateur Photographer, Stieglitz promoted the mobile handheld camera when most practitioners believed it a plaything. Stieglitz shocked readers by stating that cropping, using only a portion of the original negative to make the final image, provided a valuable strategy to compose visual meaning. In turn, he endorsed the benefits of enlarging and manipulating negatives in the darkroom. According to Stieglitz, serious imagemaking could occur after the shutter was pressed, and he demonstrated it by using less than half his plate to produce  Winter on Fifth Avenue  (1892). Stieglitz joined together the “proper moment” in front of the camera with post-camera strategies in the darkroom. He showed that weather conditions did not have to be a deterrent in making pictures and that spontaneous chance operations could be incorporated into the process. Stieglitz gained a reputation for using a hand camera to capture unretouched, precisely observed moments from real time, whether at night (Reflections, Night, 1896), in the rain (A Wet Day on the Boulevard, 1894), or under difficult lighting conditions (Sunlight and Shadows, Paula, Berlin, 1889). These aesthetic revelations that Stieglitz called “snapshots” broke with the attitudes of the painted image, furthering photography’s quest to define itself based on its intrinsic elements. Ironically, this proponent of hand cameras, which almost anyone could operate, was not interested in the democratic aspects of the process; Stieglitz adamantly believed that only inspired artists could make fine images. In 1897, The Society of Amateur Photographers and the New York Camera Club merged

to form The Camera Club of New York. Stieglitz recast its journal, Camera Notes (1897–1903), into a high-quality international quarterly that presented America’s first concrete claim for photography as a fine art.  Camera Notes  featured splendid reproductions, perceptive articles, and critical reviews, representing Stieglitz’s standards of aesthetic excellence that other photographers could look to for guidance.27 Camera Notes  portrayed the emerging style of the American pictorial movement, which was typified by subjects that steered clear of topical issues, placing importance on how a subject was interpreted rather than the subject itself. Soft focus was used to evoke mystery and de-emphasize photography’s connection with surface reality. Simplified compositions, manually manipulated to eliminate extraneous elements, removed images from their dependence on the real world and fitted them into a new definition of what constituted art. Stieglitz challenged his readers to do more than impersonate another medium’s achievements and to discover their own photographic medium’s visual models. Stieglitz sought to produce a major exhibition reflecting the principal pictorialist concerns that stressed elaborate printing processes, post-camera manipulations, atmospheric effects, and the tonal values of the image over the subject matter. Such a show would demonstrate that photography was a tool, like a paintbrush, for achieving aesthetic effects. Despite his boundless determination, Stieglitz could not make this exhibition happen at the Camera Club. Instead, John G. Bullock (1854– 1939) and Robert S. Redfield (1849–1923) of the Photographic Society of Philadelphia produced a show under the patronage of the Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts in 1898. According to the catalog, the purpose of the Philadelphia Salon was to present work with “distinct evidence of individual artistic feeling and execution.” That same year, the Munich Secession group hung photographs alongside paintings in an effort to inject new concepts

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1903 and 1917.29  Stieglitz covered the evolution of the pictorial movement through the new hardedged modernism, and he introduced his readers to new, European art movements such as Cubism, and Futurism (see Chapter 10). Stieglitz was conscious of how a medium’s physical nature affects the information it carries, and great care was taken with the reproductions. He favored presenting individual artists’ portfolios by means of photogravure on thin Japanese paper, tipping the pictures in on brown or gray submounts. The quality of these reproductions often gave them a delicacy and depth absent in the original, showing what the mechanical printing process was capable of (printers were even given credit lines). Paul Rosenfeld wrote that  Camera Work:

and vigor into German art. Other groups soon followed suit. In early 1901, a political coup at the Photographic Society of Philadelphia toppled the leadership, replacing it with a group who believed there was “a little too much art” in photography and who wanted to “popularize” the Salon, which led to the Society’s demise. Stieglitz, realizing that camera clubs would no longer support the standards of serious photography that he valued, opened his first independent exhibition space. As he solicited work, Stieglitz formed a new group of photographers that would be known as the Photo-Secession.

THE PHOTO-SECESSION

Is itself a work of art: the lover’s touch having been lavished on every aspect of its form and content… Many of the reproductions are actual pulls from photogravure plates made directly from the original negatives; and all are printed in the spirit of the original pictures and retain their intrinsic qualities. They are actually original stamps.30

The  Photo-Secession  was founded on February 17, 1902, “loosely to hold together those Americans devoted to pictorial photography in their endeavor to compel its recognition, not as a handmaiden of art, but as a distinctive medium of individual expression.”28 The group was made up of American pictorial photographers who shared the same philosophies as the Linked Ring, the Photo-Club de Paris, and the German secession movements that had rebelled against academic authorities and organized their own exhibitions. The founders included Stieglitz, as director of the Council, John Bullock, Frank Eugene, Gertrude Käsebier, Joseph Keiley, Robert Redfield, Eva Watson-Schütze, Eduard Steichen, and Clarence White. Stieglitz resigned as editor of  Camera Notes  in 1902 and immediately launched a new quarterly,  Camera Work, assisted by Joseph T. Keiley (1869–1914), who had worked with him as an associate editor for  Camera Notes. Keiley was also a member of the Linked Ring and, as a founding member of the Photo-Secession, became its historian. Fifty issues of Camera Work, with a maximum press run of 1,000 copies, were published between

Camera Work  spotlighted monographs of the Photo-Secessionists and leading European practitioners, along with the historic works of Hill and Adamson (crediting only Hill), and Julia Margaret Cameron. Articles by noted critics, such as Charles Caffin (Photography as a Fine Art, 1901) and Sadakichi Hartman (The History of American Art, 1901), and by authors such as George Bernard Shaw and Gertrude Stein raised the level of critical discussion.31  Camera Work  had a decidedly intellectual appeal, claiming to be “published for those who know or want to know.”32  In 1905, Stieglitz took out a lease at 291 Fifth Avenue, giving the group a permanent exhibition and operations center. Later known as “291,” the gallery featured the leading pictorialists of America and Europe. During its later years, from 1911 to 1917, “291” was the only place

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in America that steadily presented modern artists— photographic and otherwise—and engaged in a dialogue about their ideas.

significant issues dealing with race, religion, sex, and the physical perfection of youth. He created a stir by making images of adult full-frontal female and male nudity. In separating the nude from the lewd, pictorialists had stylistically photographed women to stress beauty rather than sensuality: sexual details such as nipples and pubic hair were suppressed. With its ability to confront the body, photography helped to end the tradition of concealing the female nude in an allegorical setting, letting the body be seen as a sensuous, aesthetic form. However, the undraped male body was considered too sexual for mixed audiences. Journal articles suggested using young boys, believing their bodies would be less sexually titillating than a woman’s.34  Photographers like Frank Meadow Sutcliffe (1853–1941) and Kühn portrayed nude boys in down-to-earth, Barbizon-type settings, such as swimming in the sea, to give the body a sense of spontaneity. These depictions were considered immoral, however; the Roman Catholic Church excommunicated Sutcliffe for corrupting women and children after his picture,  Water Rats  (1886), featuring nude boys swimming, was exhibited. Day’s images directly acknowledged the beauty and sensuality of the adult male body, implying a forbidden homosexual lifestyle. Also, this demonstrates how photography can hint at a secret life, pointing out how the suppression of sex can reinforce its presence. Day committed the double sin of judiciously portraying a nude Black man, his chauffeur and confidant Alfred Tanneyhill, whom he photographed for years. The images were shocking because Day cast them against type. Nudes were supposed to be female, not male, and white society felt comfortable with images of Blacks in clinical studies or in subservient positions, not as individuals and certainly not as equals. Day forged new ground by portraying his sitter as a fellow human being. During the summer of 1898, Day caused a sensation in Boston by making hundreds of exposures on the theme of Christ’s last days. Day starved himself

THE DECADENT MOVEMENT AND TONALISM Fred Holland Day  (1864–1933), a prosperous bibliophile, became the third American member of the Linked Ring. As cofounder of the publishing firm Copeland & Day (1888), he produced noncommercial titles such as those illustrated by Aubrey Beardsley. George Davison brought Day’s work to the notice of Stieglitz in 1895, and Stieglitz featured Day’s images in Camera Notes in 1897. Stieglitz also gave Day a one-person show at the Camera Club. Day was influenced by the Decadent Movement  (a.k.a. dandyism) and was friends with Oscar Wilde and William Morris of the Arts and Crafts Movement. In the manner of Beau Brummell, artists of the Decadent Movement (at its height towards the end of the nineteenth century) were fashionably dressed and displayed exotic mannerisms. Their value system prized artificiality, self-consciousness, and a disdain for bourgeois values, expressed through intellectual skepticism and sarcastic humor. They rejected the notion that art should imitate nature and emphasized amorality, play, and relief from the mounting social and spiritual problems caused by untethered industrialism. Decadent Movement artists often saw themselves as extensions of their work, and Day enjoyed dressing in exotic costumes. Day posed his models in unconventional dress in historical and mythological settings, often eliciting an idyllic homoerotic sense of ancient Greece or an atmosphere of Orientalism inspired by colonial Africa and the Middle East.33 Day used the subjects before his camera to raise

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FRED HOLLAND DAY. An Ethiopian Chief, circa 1897. 4 11⁄16 x 4 5⁄8 inches. Gum bichromate print. COURTESY  The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles, CA.

and grew his hair down to his shoulders so he could model as Christ, a role he also wanted to play as the artistic leader of photography. Day sought to affirm that photographs could reveal the same spiritual sensations as paintings with religious themes. By casting himself as artist  and  savior, Day projected the romantic belief that fine culture and sacred beliefs can be revived through an understanding of the arts. A fervent competition developed between Stieglitz and Day to be the first to demonstrate that photography could hold its own in the art world. In 1900, Day organized the New School of American Photography, an exhibition of 300 prints and offered it to the Linked Ring. Stieglitz saw Day stealing his thunder and intervened, and the show was refused. Day got the Royal Photographic Society to display the exhibition instead, after which it traveled it to

the Photo-Club de Paris in early 1901. The exhibition was a critical success, helping establish photography’s place in the art world and boosting the reputation of American pictorialists in a hostile environment in which the old-guard photographic societies resisted aesthetic change. Day’s strong character and independence of thought fostered a rivalry with Stieglitz for leadership of the American pictorialist movement, but it was a struggle that he was not temperamentally suited to win. Stieglitz was better connected and possessed the appropriate mixture of charisma, connections, and intellectual prowess that enabled him to maintain a following of major talent. Day made very few photographs after 1904, when a fire destroyed his studio and most of his work. In 1917, Day took to his bed and remained secluded until his death in 1933.

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muted colors and moods. In 1910 and 1911, he traveled through the American West, pursuing the tonalist’s favorite subject—the natural landscape. Coburn’s poetic representations of the Grand Canyon expressed the nature-based spiritualism of Henry David Thoreau and the transcendental harmony of Ralph Waldo Emerson. The series tackled the difficulty of conveying the Grand Canyon’s sense of vast scale. Coburn’s tightly composed serial views concentrated on specific aspects of the Canyon instead of trying to portray it in a single image. The work has a sequential logic and is most effective when seen as a set. Coburn’s textured, gritty prints render a visual playback of the canyon’s shale landscape. The soft-focus, sometimes almost blurry effect adds an otherworldly feeling to the scene. It also distorts the sense of distance by manufacturing a near bas-relief 35 effect in the background, adding a sense of three-dimensionality to the work. In other views the visual sense of distance collapses and perspective diminishes. This creates spatially flat images that rely on the abstracting of atmospheric patterns to bond the compositions together. Both styles generate a visual paradox, making the images appear solid yet yielding while conveying an awareness of the eternal. The prints feel old and give viewers a sense of geological time. Coburn’s use of chiaroscuro adds a dramatic, emotionally uplifting grandeur to the land. Other views incorporate atmospheric effects, such as aerial perspective, to deliver a sense of immense distances.

ALVIN LANGDON COBURN. The Temple of Ohm (Grand Canyon), 1911. 16 x 12 5⁄8 inches. Gelatin silver print. COURTESY  George Eastman Museum, Rochester, NY.

The connecting of European and American pictorial movements received an assist from  Alvin Langdon Coburn (1882–1966), an American photographer who later settled in Britain, becoming a British citizen in 1932. Coburn took up serious photography as a teenager and in 1900 helped his cousin, Fred Holland Day, organize Day’s  New School of American Photography exhibition in Europe. Coburn’s work was included in the show. A founding member of the Photo-Secession and an elected member of the Linked Ring, Coburn was influenced by tonalism, a turn of the twentieth century, American artistic movement in painting and photography typified by an idealized, often melancholic, mysterious, personal, romantic interpretation that favored

WOMEN PICTORIALISTS Feminists in the late 1890s began actively crusading for equal rights and greater opportunities in all areas of life. Admitted as members to the major camera clubs in New York, Buffalo, Chicago, Boston, San Francisco, and Los Angeles, women came to reject the idea of receiving separate segregated awards and

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ANNE W. BRIGMAN. The Bubble, 1907. 6 5⁄16 x 9 5⁄16 inches. Photogravure. Brigman, actress, photographer, and champion of women’s rights, separated from her husband to “work out my destiny.” Brigman received acclaim and notoriety for her innovative interpretations of the female figure in nature, often inhabiting the landscape with her own nude body. Brigman’s interpretation of the landscape removed the female body from the gaze of a clothed man in the confines of his studio. COURTESY  George Eastman Museum, Rochester, NY.

agitated for genderless categories. Catharine Weed Barnes summed up the position: “Good work is good work, whether it be by man or woman, and poor is poor by the same rule.”36  Although the majority of the 105 members of the Photo-Secession were East Coast men, twenty-one were women. Alice Boughton, Anne W. Brigman (1869–1950), Sarah C. Sears, Eva Watson-Schütze, and Gertrude Käsebier played active roles as artists. They also served the movement’s symbolic foundation by creating depictions of archetypal nurturing

mothers and women as primal forces of nature, both major themes of the pictorialists.37 Gertrude Käsebier (pronounced KAY-za-beer) (1852–1934), left her husband at home to enroll at the Pratt Institute (1888), eventually moving to Paris five years later where she set up a studio. From there, she studied photographic chemistry in Germany (1893), and in 1896 she became an assistant to Brooklyn portrait photographer Samuel H. Lifshey to learn the business, before finally opening her own studio in New York in late 1897 or early 1898. Starting

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in 1898, Käsebier began making compassionate portraits of the Native Americans who performed in Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show at New York’s Madison Square Garden. Over the next decade she continued to take photographs that were sympathetic to their predicament. Käsebier concentrated on the face and/or stature of her sitter, and she had no interest in matter-of-fact typologies. Her work was recognized at the first Philadelphia Salon of 1898, followed by a solo show at The Camera Club of New York in 1899 and inclusion in Day’s  New School of American Photography  exhibition. The first American woman elected to the Linked Ring in 1900, Käsebier was also a founding member of the Photo-Secession. Stieglitz featured her work in the first and subsequent issues of Camera Work, as well as in shows he organized at “291” and elsewhere. However, disagreements with Stieglitz over aesthetics and commercial interests led her to resign from the Photo-Secession in 1912. She went on to help found the Pictorial Photographers of America in 1916. Up until World War II, women photographers often specialized in portraits, flowers, and child and baby work. Such imagery could be created from the home, thus preserving the traditional family hierarchy and gender norms, which was appreciated by critics. And, because women were trained and expected to be more sensitive to the needs of others, such work seemed a “natural” specialization. Käsebier is known for her unconventionally composed scenes that depict the subtle complexities of mother‒child relations and evoke a tranquil sense of intimacy. She reformed pictorialist practice by ridding scenes of idealized, middle-class domestic life of their sentimental and overcrowded Victorian backdrops, and she emphasized the individuality of the subjects as they would be found in their everyday settings. Her goal was to “make likenesses that are biographies, to bring out in each photograph, the essential personality that is variously called temperament, soul, humanity.”38

GERTRUDE KÄSEBIER. Blessed Art Thou Among Women, 1899. 91⁄16 x 5 3⁄16 inches. Platinum print. Käsebier constructs an idyllic depiction of the Victorian ideals of domesticity, femininity, and motherhood, which is highlighted by the biblical title and the print of the Annunciation on the wall behind the subjects. The work typifies the chiaroscuro and subtle tonality in Käsebier’s photographs, which often depict the union between child and mother. Such atmospheric images were popular and commanded top prices, but seem contradictory with her quest for self-reliance. Stieglitz published this photograph in Camera Notes (July 1900) and in the first issue of Camera Work (January 1903), which was devoted to Käsebier’s work. In 1906 he included this print in an exhibition of the work of Käsebier and Clarence White at his Little Galleries of the Photo-Secession. COURTESY  The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.

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Alice Boughton  (1866–1943) was among the women pictorialists who not only celebrated the beauty of young women, but also wrote about the qualities required to produce images of people: He [the photographer] must have tact, the social instinct and infinite patience. In doing children, for instance, he must amuse, watch for the right moment, be constantly and continually alert, and work for the unconsciousness which is one of their charms.39

A Kodak ad in Camera Work #26 (April 1909), in which Boughton’s images appear, shows two women going into a darkroom to develop film with the new Eastman Plate Tank (a daylight developing tank). The caption reads: “Where the tank enters, the dark room worries end.” While the ad disparagingly implies that the Kodak tank is so simple that even a woman can use it, it also recognizes the involvement of women in photography and as potential customers. At a time when women in the United States still did not have the right to vote, such ads reveal the photographic industry’s emerging awareness that women’s relationship to photography was changing from being the ones depicted to being the ones doing the depicting.40 Boughton was also active in New Woman feminist and socialist movements and promoted the role of women in photography as a form of personal expression. Stieglitz appointed Boughton as a Fellow of the Photo-Secession and presented her work at the Little Galleries in Camera Work (April 1909).

ALICE BOUGHTON. Nude (children), 1902. 8 5⁄8 x 5¼ inches. Platinum print. COURTESY  Library of Congress, Washington, D.C.

THE PICTORIAL EPO CH : STIEGLITZ ’S GROUP

visited Stieglitz and sold him three of his photographs for five dollars each. In 1901, Day included Steichen’s prints in his New School of American Photography  exhibition. Steichen was also elected to the Linked Ring and began a friendship with the sculptor Auguste Rodin, of whom he would make numerous portraits.

Stieglitz was able to assemble a core group of photographers who played crucial roles in developing and expressing the pictorial aesthetic. In 1900, en route to Europe,  Eduard Jean Steichen  (1879– 1973), who would later spell his name Edward,

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EDWARD STEICHEN. Rodin – The Thinker, 1902, 31¼ x 34½ inches. Gum bichromate print.

In 1902 Steichen returned to New York from Europe to become a founding member of the Photo-Secession and take studio space at 291 Fifth Avenue. During his European trip of 1906, Steichen sent Stieglitz works by practitioners who would later  be featured in  Camera Work  and at “291.” Steichen’s aesthetic sensitivity, combined with enormous and diverse productivity and technical virtuosity, made him one of the most extensively published and critically examined members of the Secession. Steichen’s prints met the avant-garde

requirement of what art was supposed to be: a subjective response to the visible world, declaring that a photograph could be an expressive statement. His gum prints and use of copy negatives in combination with other alternative photographic printing processes reflect the late nineteenth-century propensity for moody, meditative fantasy. The subject, reinforced through the controls of gum printing and soft focus, demonstrated Steichen’s emotional fascination with photography’s prime mover: light. In prints like  Road into the Valley—Moonrise  (1904)

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© BARON ADOLF DE MEYER. Portrait of Josephine Baker, 1925. 15 2⁄5 x 15 3⁄5 inches. Collotype print. In 1925 Josephine Baker debuted on the Paris stage in La Revue nègre (The Black Review), wearing just a skirt of feathers and performing her danse sauvage (savage dance). She was an instant success in Jazz-Age France. Writer Ernest Hemingway described Baker as “the most sensational woman anybody ever saw—or ever will.” Baker was the first Black woman to star in a major motion picture, the silent film Siren of the Tropics (1927). Baron Adolf de Meyer’s spirited portrait emphasizes Baker’s face rather than her legendary physique. COURTESY

The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles, CA.

or Moonlight: The Pond (1904), Steichen created a dark, enigmatic atmosphere of nostalgia and sensuality that initiated a visual dialogue between the transitory archetypal powers of light and shadow. Steichen’s prints sum up the Secessionist aesthetic of suggestiveness, of evoking the mystery of an echo rather than a replica of the original, an aesthetic that takes one beyond merely visible experience. Adolph de Meyer  (1868–1946), a European involved with the issues of pictorial photography, corresponded with Stieglitz, had his first exhibition

in the Photo-Secession Galleries in 1907, and in 1908 had his images published in  Camera Work. At that time, he was also listed as a Fellow of the Council  of the Photo-Secession. In 1903 de Meyer began using a specially constructed  soft-focus lens41 and made gum bichromate and platinum prints to control the sharpness in his large-scale portraits and still lifes. De Meyer’s still life set-ups of glass containers on a glass tabletop use transparency to produce visual ambiguity between the subject and the background. He employed artificial

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of beautiful fantasy fell out of favor and had been largely neglected until recently.42 Frank Eugene (Smith) (1865–1936), a painter who evolved into a photographer, was a member of the Linked Ring and a founder of the Photo-Secession. His approach to making negatives with optically corrected lenses was atypical of the Secessionists. Rather than relying on printing methods to introduce subjective interpretation, Eugene boldly hand-altered his negatives with a variety of tools, including etching needles, paintbrushes, and pencils, reworking his compositions so that he could proclaim their status as art. He maintained the photographic character of his subject while adding a painterly physical presence, permitting a subjective post-camera investigation into the psychological nature of his subject. His haptic working methods were viewed with horror, even by some of the Secessionists, for violating the sacred surface of the negative, but Stieglitz supported the work through publication and exhibition. Clarence Hudson White  (1871–1925) was a self-taught photographer whose work in the 1898 Philadelphia Salon came to the attention of Stieglitz. Eventually White and Stieglitz collaborated on a series of nude studies and, later, with the Autochrome process. White’s simple early compositions of family and friends featured common, middle-class settings and relied on his use of natural light to inject emotion. Favoring soft, early morning light, White used back-lighting to bring forth accepted Romantic notions of Midwestern domesticity and commonplace portrayals of feminine home endeavors, from ring toss games to reclining on a daybed. White began an influential teaching career in photography at Columbia University in 1906. In 1912, White broke with Stieglitz after a feud, and in 1914 founded the Clarence H. White School of Photography, which was instrumental in the development of the next generation of photographers (see Chapter 11). In 1916 White helped establish the Pictorial Photographers of America,

FRANK EUGENE. Adam & Eve, circa 1900. 7 x 51⁄16 inches. Photogravure. COURTESY  The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.

lights to make a high-key sparkle and even “blinded” his lens by photographing directly into the light for effect. De Meyer circulated with and photographed a stylishly wealthy clientele. When World War I broke out, de Meyer came to the United States as a photographer for Vogue and Vanity Fair and later for Harper’s Bazaar. In this capacity he produced high-key, soft-focus, idealized portraits of American celebrities in elegant settings throughout the 1920s, expressing a range of feeling from joy to ennui. With the coming of the Great Depression and a shift toward social realism, de Meyer’s work

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CLARENCE H. WHITE. The Orchard, 1902. 97⁄16 × 7½ inches. Platinum print. White favored the familiar, using the same subjects over again in the belief that it furthered his understanding of their inner emotions, creating expressive compositions akin to Impressionistic and American totalistic paintings as well as to fashionable Japanese prints. COURTESY  The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.

whose membership continued promoting the pictorial ideas that Stieglitz was then abandoning. White’s teaching, a monetary necessity criticized by Stieglitz (who could afford not to mix photography and business), reduced his artistic output and development. White’s situation exemplifies the continuing dilemma facing artists: how to earn a

living in a society that offers little financial support to artists while remaining artistically vital. He died while leading a group of photography students in Mexico. In November 1910, the Albright Art Gallery (now the Buffalo AKG Art Museum) in Buffalo, NY, presented the  International Exhibition of

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Pictorial Photography, organized by Stieglitz as a synopsis of pictorial photography. The Albright’s purchase of twelve prints unofficially associated the pictorialists with the Pre-Raphaelites, who broke away from the traditional avenues of aristocratic, church, and government art patronage and actively framed the idea of the modern gallery system, with its dealers, collectors, and high prices for art works. These modern conceptions regarding gallery sales, collections, and connoisseurship have come to make up the key workings of the contemporary Western art scene. The Buffalo exhibition marked the culmination of the pictorial movement by “the most beautiful gallery in America.” It was a recognition and sanctioning of photographers as artists and photography’s ability to compete with traditional art mediums. Because the pictorialists changed the status of their photographs through the investment of time in their handwork, people were now willing to purchase photographs for display on their walls instead of just in their private albums. Pictorialist methods separated the photographic process from the machine, elevating the image and its maker to the plane of art and artist.

work became synonymous with vapid, strained, and worn-out formulas. Eventually, even images in  Camera Work  seemed overwrought because everyone, including Stieglitz, was struggling to discover where the boundaries of the practice lay. What is evident is that even gifted artists make bad art; their genuine ability is in not being afraid to take chances and risk failure. By the time of the Buffalo exhibition, the group Stieglitz had founded and the style it championed had ceased to engage him and was disintegrating. Stieglitz turned his attention to modern art, which he began presenting in Camera Work. He curated only one photography show during the last four years of “291,” dedicated to Paul Strand’s work (1916). Many excesses were committed in the name of pictorialism, but the Photo-Secession helped photography realize its place as an artistic medium. As art is an evolutionary process, rooted in people’s experiences, it is always in flux. The process of interchange and crossing boundaries confirms how our notions of “realism” continually reinvent themselves. This verifies that artistic reality is artificial and has to be recreated if the art is going to be more than an illustration. When a society agrees that something is real, it indicates that a comparison with reality has reinforced the observation. When we look at a work of art and are moved by it, we do not make such a comparison because it is the power of the work, not its imitation, that speaks to us. This is what artists, including the pictorialists, traditionally strive to achieve. Photography released painters from their societal compact to make realistic representations, pointing artists toward the pursuit of personal and abstract concerns while supplying examples of new, and previously unseen realities. Artists including the pictorialists were influenced by the contemporary look and subject matter of the photographic image and photographic effects such as  halation. Halation is the luminous halo, with a diffused outer edge, that occurs when an exposure is made into a bright source of light (backlighting).

THE DECLINE OF PICTORIALISM The success of the pictorialists resulted in numerous uninformed imitators interested only in achieving a pictorial look without the thought-provoking content. Predictably, this led to a degradation of the movement. Leading practitioners, such as Demachy, recognized that “many pictorialists will meddle with their prints in the fond belief that any alteration, however bungling, is the touchstone of art.”43 As pictorialism became a recognized style, others assumed the trappings without the context, resulting in pictures that appear contrived. With the original impetus gone, the emulators’

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Early films were prone to halation and would exaggerate the effect. Impressionists picked up on such effects and incorporated them into their visual vocabulary. Aesthetically, pictorialism demonstrated that photography was an elastic medium and could interpret life with the same aesthetic impulses used in paintings. In turn, photography freed artists to expand the boundaries of representation, making impressionistic and other modern explorations possible. Theoretically, pictorialism established photography as an art by assimilating it to various styles and theories of art. Once photography was established as an interpretive medium, its own photographic art theory was free to emerge. The pictorial movement took a major stride in the direction of photographers investigating their own medium and establishing their place in the art world. With these changes underway, some of the foremost pictorialists, especially Stieglitz, reconsidered photography’s position and identity, not as it related to painting, but via its own inherent characteristics.

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“Society Gossip,” Philadelphia Photographer, vol. 17, no. 195 (March 1880), 98. “Photographers’Association of America,”  Philadelphia Photographer, vol. 17, no. 201 (September 1880), 275. In particular, see Robinson’s controversial advocacy of “Combination Printing” in  Pictorial Effect in Photography  (1869) as reprinted in Andrew E. Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory: An Historical Anthology (Boston, MA and Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell, 2014), 72–75. Peter Henry Emerson, “Photography, A Pictorial Art,”  The Amateur Photographer, vol. 3, no. 76 (March 19, 1886), 138–39. See, for example, Emerson’s thoughts on “Focussing” from his book Naturalistic Photography for Students of the Art (1890; first edition 1889), reprinted in Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 84–87. The photographs were influenced by Joseph Mallord William Turner (1775–1851), an English romantic landscape painter concerned with portraying the elemental

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forces of nature, James McNeill Whistler (1834–1903), and the French Impressionists. Like all printing-out processes, platinum’s self-masking abilities allow subtle highlight details to be retained without the shadow areas becoming “buried.” The images have a matte surface and are permanent, as platinum is more stable than silver. The platinum process was patented in 1873 by William Willis (1841–1923), who marketed it in 1879 as the Platinotype. Its high cost caused it to disappear from the commercial market by 1937, though it reappeared again in the mid-1980s through alternative sources. Today photographers make their own emulsion and coat their own paper. Emerson mocked Robinson and the advocates of combination printing with “Heaven help them!” and other, less kind phrases. See Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 72. P. H. Emerson,  Naturalistic Photography for Students of the Arts, 2nd edition (London: Sampson Low, Marston, Searle and Rivington, 1890), 197. For more on Emerson and optical discoveries see Douglas R. Nickel, “Peter Henry Emerson: The Mechanics of Seeing” in Robin Kelsey and Blake Stimson, eds.,  The Meaning of Photography (Williamstown, MA: Clark Art Institute, 2008), 59–69. P. H. Emerson,  Naturalistic Photography for Students of the Arts  (London: Sampson Low, Marston, Searle and Rivington, 1889), 150; or Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 85–87. Although trained as a physician, neither Emerson nor other photographers of the time grasped the potential creative mastery that the understanding of the H & D curve could provide. It was not until 1941, when Ansel Adams translated sensitometry into aesthetics through his Zone System, that photographers had a reliable method of accurately depicting tonal relationships as they “previsualized” them. Peter Henry Emerson,  The Death of Naturalistic Photography  (privately published, 1890). Reprint edition (New York: Arno Press, 1973) from the back of Naturalistic Photography, 3rd edition (New York: The Scovill and Adams Co., 1899). See also Emerson’s  Death  text in Hershberger, ed.,  Photographic Theory, 88–90, along with Hurter and Driffield’s “Photo-Chemical Investigations and a New Method of Determination of the Sensitiveness of Photographic Plates” (1890), 96–99. Bromoil was introduced in 1907 and allowed the option of making an enlargement from a small negative. In

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23 Ward Muir,  The Amateur Photographer  (October 2,

the bromoil process a gelatin silver bromide print was bleached and redeveloped in pigment, allowing color, tonal effects, and the diffusion of detail to be controlled by hand. Multiple impressions could be made with different colored inks. Bromoil’s latitude and painterly appearance gave it a following among expressive printmakers through the 1940s. Emerson,  The Death of Naturalistic Photography  (privately published, 1890); or, for one of Emerson’s slight variations on that line, see Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 89. Joseph T. Keiley, “The Linked Ring,” Camera Notes, vol. 5, no. 2 (October 1901), 113. Catharine Weed Barnes, “Why Ladies Should be Admitted to Membership in Photographic Societies,”  The American Amateur Photographer, vol. 1, no. 6 (December 1889), 224. Catharine Weed Barnes was an American photographer and editor of  The American Amateur Photographer. In the early 1890s she went to England, where she married photographic journalist H. Snowden Ward (1865–1911) and was subsequently known as Catharine Weed Ward. In the secondary literature she is often referred to as Catharine Weed Barnes Ward. For a reprint of this short piece and seven of her other essays see Peter E. Palmquist,  Catharine Weed Barnes Ward: Pioneer Advocate for Women in Photography (Arcata, CA: Peter E. Palmquist, 1992), 35–83. Robert Demachy, “On the Straight Print,” Camera Work, no. 19 ( July 1907), 21–24; also in Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 114–17, quote on p. 115. Unfortunately, Kuehn’s reputation is marred by his virulent antisemitism. This raises the question: is it possible to separate artists from their work? See: Monika Faber (ed), Heinrich Kuehn and His American Circle: Alfred Stieglitz and Edward Steichen (Munich, London, New York: Prestel/Neue Galerie, 2012). George Smith, “Lantern Slides,”  British Journal of Photography, vol. 33, no. 33 (1886), 20–21. An energetic writer, Evans explained his ideas in articles for popular journals. He wrote a series of twelve instructional lessons for The Photogram in 1904 and was a regular contributor to Camera Work, becoming the first English photographer to gain recognition in America. Evans also directly rebutted articles by Demachy. See, for example, Evans’s “What is a ‘Straight Print’?” (1907), in Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 118–20. F. H. Evans, “Some Notes on Interior Work,”  The Amateur Photographer (May 12, 1904), 372.

1902), 273. 24 Oil-pigment printing was a contact process in which a

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gelatin-coated paper sensitized with potassium bichromate could absorb hand-applied inks or pigments. Known for its limited granular resolution and broad, slightly uneven tonal effects, it was revived in 1904 by G. E. H. Rawlins and remained popular through World War I. Dorothy Norman,  Alfred Stieglitz: An American Seer (New York: Aperture, 1990), 37. The Second Commandment, the Prophets’ battles with idolatry, the teaching of the rabbis, and the cultural and economic traditions of the Jews militated against the visual arts. The only reference to painting in the Old Testament is in the context of lewdness and whoredom (Ezekiel 23:13–16). For reproductions of all of  Camera Notes’s images see Christian A. Peterson,  Alfred Stieglitz’s Camera Notes (Minneapolis: The Minneapolis Institute of Arts in association with W.W. Norton & Co., New York, 1993). Alfred Stieglitz, Camera Work, no. 6 (April 1904), 53. See Simone Philippi and Ute Kieseyer, eds.,  Alfred Stieglitz: Camera Work, The Complete Illustrations 1903– 1917  (Cologne: Benedikt Taschen Verlag GmbH, 1997). Paul Rosenfeld, “The Boys in the Darkroom” in Waldo Frank, Lewis Mumford, Dorothy Norman, Paul Rosenfeld, and Harold Rogg, eds.,  America and Alfred Stieglitz  (New York: Doubleday, Doran & Co., Inc., 1934), 82. See Jonathan Green,  Camera Work: A Critical Anthology (Millerton, NY: Aperture, 1973). Advertisements,  Camera Work, nos. 42–43 (April‒July 1913), unp. See James Crump,  F. Holland Day: Suffering the Ideal  (Santa Fe, NM: Twin Palms Publishers, 1995), 23, and Shawn Michelle Smith, “Photography between Desire and Grief: Roland Barthes and F. Holland Day” in Elspeth H. Brown and Thy Phu, eds.,  Feeling Photography  (Durham, NC and London: Duke University Press, 2014), 29–46. J. M. B. W., “A Note on some Open-Air Nude Studies,”  The Amateur Photographer and Photographic News, vol. 52, no. 1344 ( July 5, 1910), 20–21. The bas-relief effect is achieved by making a contact positive transparency from a negative, placing the two pieces

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39 40

41 With a soft-focus lens, no correction is made for spher-

of film together slightly out of register, and printing from the combination. Catharine Weed Barnes, “Photography from a Woman’s Standpoint” (paper read before the Society of Professional Women, December 10, 1889),  The American Amateur Photographer, vol. 2 ( January 1890), 10. See Barbara L. Michaels,  Gertrude Käsebier: The Photographer and Her Photographs  (New York: Harry N. Abrams, 1992), 17–18. Giles Edgerton [pseudo. of Mary Fanton Roberts], “Photography as an Emotional Art: A Study of the Work of Gertrude Käsebier,” The Craftsman, vol. 12 (April‒September 1907), 88. Alice Boughton, “Photography, A Medium of Experience,” Camera Work 26 (April 1909), 33–36. This indicates how industrialization transformed women’s roles in the economy of the northeast in America. In 1800, only one woman in twenty worked outside her home, but within a hundred years in cities such as Boston, one woman in three derived income outside the home. The work experience had a significant cultural effect, fostering new attitudes and relationships. Women who worked in mills, shoe manufacturing, domestic service, or teaching tended to stay in the city, marry urban men, and have fewer children than their rural counterparts.

ical aberration. The result is that no part of the image is sharp. Special soft-focus portrait lenses allow the degree of diffusion to be controlled. Images produced from soft-focus lenses possess an exaggerated degree of brilliance in the highlight areas. 42 For a recent interpretation of de Meyer’s work, see Elspeth H. Brown, “De Meyer at Vogue: Commercializing Queer Affect in First World War-era Fashion Photography,” Photography & Culture, vol. 2, no. 3 (Nov. 2009), 253–74. 43 Robert Demachy, “On the Straight Print,”  Camera Work  19 ( July 1907), 21–24; or in Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 114–17, quote on p. 117.

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CHAPTER TEN

Modernism’s Innovations

INDUSTRIAL BEAUTY

unique. There could be a financial and/or status reward for being “first,” as new and different became values unto themselves. During this period, a growing sense of moral instability reflected the apparent crumbling of religious beliefs. “Art for art’s sake” described personal art without social or religious sanction. A touchstone of modernism was individual freedom over social authority. With it came the side effect of alienation, the separation and estrangement from the established societal positions. Once an affliction, alienation became a prized accessory of art. Dissenting artists created an ambiguous environment of detachment and uncertainty, making them major themes of twentieth-century art that have continued to often isolate artists and their art from mainstream society. In addition to his economic theories, Karl Marx (1818–1883) believed that art is part of a shared social reality and must be integrated into daily life. As the social function of art shifted from the public to the private, Marxist critics assailed the presumption that the purpose of art was aesthetic and individualistic. Marxists contended that art should scrutinize political and social reality, getting behind appearances to elucidate social relationships. They also insisted that art must not divorce itself from the realities of everyday people, as this weakened its ability to pinpoint problems and be a medium of social change. For art to be vital, Marxists argued, it

An innovative set of Western artistic, cultural, and spiritual precepts evolved during the start of the modernistic period (1880–1920), based on the new urban, industrial, and secular order. Modernist artists abandoned historical subject matter and Renaissance illusionism, the convincing depiction of nature, in favor of portraying contemporary events and experimental representations. The decline of aristocratic, church, and state patronage in the nineteenth century meant artists were no longer beholden to those powers and their values. In the new fledgling capitalist art market, where the probability of sales remained small, artists were freer to experiment with appearance and content, and even to ridicule the ruling powers.  Aesthetic formalism, emphasizing form over content, emerged in part from an ecumenical belief that pure forms could transcend differences implicit in content and become as important as subject matter. Modernists also believed that these forms contained inherent meanings that could be read and understood by viewers. The positivist belief in progress was applied to art and photography, as new styles were continually promoted on the heels of others. Without a common rudder to steer art toward collective societal goals, early modern artists and photographers distinguished themselves by being

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must operate within society and reach a large and diverse audience—a goal for  which photo-based processes with their reproducibility seemed ideal. The divergence of capitalist and Marxist positions marked a split in Western cultural values: whether culture should express private beliefs or group values, and arguably if one expression is possible without the other. Regardless of how artists may have wished to distance themselves from society, art does not emerge in a vacuum. Hence, the interface between the private and the shared became an increasingly fraught line along which artists positioned their practice. The increased speed at which technology changed fundamental societal guideposts about industry, religion, and science produced a corresponding loss in longstanding cultural values. The industrial machine-based revolution upended social experience by shifting the balance of population growth from rural to urban areas. The velocity at which culture reinvented itself through technology during the period from 1875 to 1905 had been unthinkable a generation before, and many optimists believed that technology’s benefits were endlessly bountiful.1

the language of painting to flatten the volumetric world, making it commensurate with the flat surface of the canvas, akin to a shallow relief of interlocking surfaces.3 Cézanne became engrossed with the way visual relationships shifted every time he moved his head. This process of seeing, the making of choices, how each turn of our head offered up a new vision of truth, was what Cézanne sought to paint. This way of seeing is often used to organize a photograph. Photographers can hold a camera to their eye, making exposures (choices) as the camera is moved with each turn of the head through the scene. Cézanne’s creation of broken outlines took viewers through a never-ending process of visual change. In cubist paintings the making of choices relates to one’s physical and mental position, making doubt, movement, and simultaneousness major subjects of their works. Cubism became an international movement, prevailing in the avant-garde art realm until World War I. During its first period, called the  analytic  phase (1907–1912), Picasso and Braque demonstrated with their investigations that knowledge of a subject is the physical sum of all possible points of view. They compressed their multiple inspections, which take time for a viewer to comprehend, into a single view to show that the multiplicity of a subject governed the element of its reality. Cubism created a fresh visual language, fragmented, repeatedly dissolving and reforming. It can be seen as a visual analogue for Einstein’s discoveries of the molecular interrelationship of space and time.4 Picasso and Braque regarded their work as realistic, emotionally and intellectually accurate, and did not consider complete abstraction a viable way to visually communicate contemporaneous experience. Their work offered a new definition of what constituted “authentic” visual reality. Both artists paid attention to photography’s ability to create unusual juxtapositions, compress and equalize space, exaggerate proportions, alter scale, disrupt time, and perceptions in a manner similar to the trompe

CUBISM Rapid changes in the modern world stimulated and challenged artists to reflect the immense shifts in human consciousness caused by the new technological landscape, including photography. Inspired by the work of painter Paul Cézanne, the cubists— Pablo Picasso, Georges Braque, Fernand Léger, and Juan Gris—attempted to parallel the dynamism of the machine age by means of Enlightenment ideals that extolled analysis and reason. Active in Paris from 1907 through the 1920s, the cubists abandoned the Renaissance system of one-point perspective and its accompanying geometrical system for depicting reality.2  These artists utilized

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FRANÇOIS-EDMOND FORTIER. Types of Women, West Africa, 1906. 3¼ × 5¼ inches. Collotype postcard. Pablo Picasso had a collection of some 40 colonial photographic postcards made by François-Edmond Fortier. The visual correlations between Fortier’s “studies” and Picasso’s paintings of 1906–1907, culminating in Les Demoiselles d’Avignon (1907), suggest that photographic African source material helped Picasso redefine his pictorial language and played a critical role in the development of Analytic Cubism. COURTESY  Musée Picasso Archives, Paris.

l’oeil (to deceive the eye) tradition.5 Picasso made and manipulated his own photographs during his cubist period. Earlier, he was formally influenced by a group of postcards made between 1905 and 1906 by François-Edmond Fortier (1862–1928), a photographer based in Dakar in Senegal who published over 3,500 postcards of French West Africa from a colonial ethnographic approach.6 As they reached the limits of Analytic Cubism in muted oval canvases of almost indiscernible subject matter, Picasso and Braque vastly enriched their visual vocabulary with  Synthetic Cubism  (1912–1914). It featured vibrant colors, and assemblage and collage

techniques, such as stenciling in letters and  physically incorporating pieces of newspaper type and even sand into their paintings. Society’s acceptance of photographic veracity allowed painters to explore new boundaries of representation. If painters were no longer needed to create one-point Renaissance perspective views of their subjects because photography could do it more quickly and inexpensively, then artists were free to make paintings that did not look like paintings of the past. With photography usurping art’s traditional function as the mirror of nature, artists decided to leave imitation behind and discover a

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new rationale for their profession. Photography compelled art and artists to become smarter. This latitude in turn permitted photographers to consider how photography could address the same modernist concepts that had altered painting’s sense of representation and ask: what was a photograph supposed to look like?7  Photographers no longer had to rely solely on the aesthetics of painting and could concentrate on the inherent qualities of the

photographic process. A few photographers shed the Romantic approach that had influenced the pictorialists such as extolling emotion and idealism through spirituality. They explored modernism instead, steering photography back to its roots in the principles of the Enlightenment. As Analytic Cubism emerged,  Alfred Stieglitz, who was still championing pre-modernist Pictorialism, underwent a transformation in his aesthetic thinking. In 1907, Stieglitz decided that for photography  to grow it had to stop mimicking other mediums and return to its original “straight” foundation: the direct, minimally manipulated, camera-made view. With “purity of use” as a guide, the automatic and hence accurate recording of reality by a camera that placed a premium on clarity of detail would be essential points in judging the value of a photograph. By 1908, Stieglitz began to move away from pictorial photography; at “291” he showed the works of modernist painters like Henri Matisse, Cézanne, Picasso, Braque, Constantin Brancusi, Jean Renoir, and unknown American painters such as John Marin, Arthur Dove, Marsden Hartley, and Max Weber. Stieglitz’s change in visual thinking can be seen in his photograph The Steerage (1907). With this image, he no longer waited for everything to arrange itself (as in  Winter on Fifth Avenue, 1893) but acknowledged the hand camera’s potential for instantaneously framing contemporaneous situations from life. He printed the resulting negative without cropping it.8  Using the full frame became a badge of honor, an announcement that the finished piece had been visualized before the shutter was released. The composition stood on its innate structure and did not rely on any post-visualization methods.9 The full frame implied that a photograph should look like a photograph and not like an etching or a painting. It criticized the pictorialists’ vision as weak, relying on artificial devices to construct an impure picture. These “straight” ideals would eventually dominate artistic photographic practice and become the dogmatic fetish of “proper technique.”

ALFRED STIEGLITZ. The Steerage, 1907. 13 1⁄8 x 10 7⁄16 inches. Photogravure print. While walking the first-class deck on a large steamer bound for Europe (not America), Stieglitz looked down onto the lower level of the steerage and saw a young man in a straw hat gazing over the rail at the group below. Stieglitz claimed he ran and got his camera and the scene had not changed, allowing him to make this photograph. He later conveyed that it was the scene’s formalistic arrangement that grabbed his attention: “I saw shapes related to one another—a picture of shapes, and underlying it, a new vision that held me.”10 COURTESY

The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles.

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In 1913, the newly organized Association of American Painters and Sculptors staged the International Exhibition of Modern Art  at the Armory of the 69th Regiment in New York, introducing cubist, expressionist, and post-impressionist art, as well as photographs, to an American audience. Stieglitz urged people to see the Armory show and mounted an exhibition of his own work at “291,” the first in fourteen years, to see how it compared with the work at the Armory. The Armory show jolted American art from its provincial slumber and left the public bewildered as the included work did not conform to their preconceived notions of what art should look like. The societal confusion and interest can be seen in the reaction to Marcel Duchamp’s (1887–1968)  Nude Descending a Staircase No. 2  (1912), a painting about the idea of movement based on Marey’s sequential photographs (see Chapter 8). The New York Times lampooned Duchamp’s figure in the continuous action of coming down a staircase as “an explosion in a shingle factory,” yet it became a canonical image of modernism. People waited in line to glimpse this somber painting without prurient interest. As author/art critic Calvin Tomkins has noted, “the painting seemed to sum up everything that was arbitrary, irrational, and incomprehensible in the new art from Europe.”11  Initially, the exhibition’s only effect was the opening of a few new commercial galleries geared toward investment collectors. It saddened Stieglitz that so little attention was paid to the American artists he admired, and he wondered how America could expect to produce first-rate creative figures without community support.12  Later, Duchamp would comment that Stieglitz “abandoned the worldly conception of art… He believed passionately that America should have its own artists. He felt his influence could force the issue.”13  During his career, Stieglitz’s galleries would remain lonely outposts of modernism in an American society reluctant to fund contemporary arts. This lack of support

Marcel Duchamp. Nude Descending a Staircase, No. 2, 1912. 57 7⁄8 x 35 1⁄8 inches. Oil on canvas.

assured the continued dominance of self-sustaining popular culture throughout the twentieth century.14 Duchamp’s work became a charged symbol of modernism in America as he reversed a celebrated subject—the female nude, and all it symbolized in Western culture and traditions of beauty. He did this by reimagining the female form through a mechanized and monochromatic combination of

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20 different static positions that produces a fierce sense of motion. The New York Times compared it to “an explosion in a shingle factory,” and American Art News called it “the conundrum of the season,” offering a ten-dollar reward “to find the lady.” Art historians make a direct connection between this work and that of Muybridge’s Woman Walking Downstairs series in Animal Locomotion (1887).15

him at “291,” especially his second wife, the painter Georgia O’Keeffe, expecting his sitters to wait until the “living moment” revealed itself.17  Konrad Cramer, a painter turned photographer, described a session with Stieglitz in 1911: He used an 8 × 10 view camera, its sagging bellows held up by pieces of string and adhesive tape. The lens was Steinheil, no shutter. The portraits were made in the smaller of the two rooms at “291” beneath a small skylight. He used Hammer plates with about three second exposures. During the exposure, Stieglitz manipulated a large white reflector to balance the overhead light. He made about nine such exposures and we then retired to the wash room which doubled as a darkroom. The plates were developed singly in a tray. From the two best negatives he made four platinum contact prints, exposing the frame on the fire escape. He would tend his prints with more care than a cook does her biscuits. The finished print finally received a coat of wax for added gloss and protection [the shift to a glossy surface, previously considered “unartistic,” was a major change in Stieglitz’s visual thinking].18

HIGH AND LOW ART: THE CENTRALITY OF THE POSTCARD As leisure time began to spread to the urban working class during the nineteenth century, demand rose for entertaining art forms that were more accessible than academic paintings, classical music, literature, opera, and traditional theater. These “high art” forms the public considered elitist as they had evolved in Europe for the aristocracy and required a certain level of education to be understood. Popular or “low” culture, often thought of as an American phenomenon, grew out of a multitude of everyday forms of communication—advertising, the comics, detective and romance novels, illustrated newspapers, popular music, nightclub scenes, and, later, movies and television and now social media.16 During the first half of the twentieth century, an abyss stretched between high art and popular culture. This served, not only to demarcate the nature of the media and keep them separate, but also to maintain social hierarchy and order. As the lack of sales at the Armory show demonstrated, many modernist artists were considered revolutionary, making their work difficult to sell and uncoupling them from the capitalist engine of commerce—at least at first. Stieglitz continued to photograph the expanding urban experience, with “high art” images of ferry boats, flying machines, railroad yards, and skyscrapers. He also turned inward by making portraits of the people close to

While the marvelous photogravures of Stieglitz’s  Camera Work  reached only a few, albeit influential readers, the makers of popular culture took an opposite approach, attempting to reach the broadest audience and defining success by the business standards of profitability. Photographic reproduction in the form of the continuous-tone photo postcard was accessible to all. Between 1905 and 1918, the “low art” form of the postcard was the major method for circulating photographs, due to three factors: The U.S. Post Office cut the cost of mailing postcards by half; in 1906, Kodak offered to print images on postcard stock at no extra charge; and reproducing photographs in newspapers continued to be difficult. Local professionals used “real” photographic postcards, which are printed on sensitized paper rather than reproduced photomechanically like commercial postcards, to record

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KAT Y ELECTRIC STUDIO. Charred Corpse of Jesse Washington Suspended from Utility Pole, Robinson, TX, May 16, 1916. 5½ × 3½ inches. Gelatin silver postcard. Jesse Washington, a mentally disabled teenager, was accused of raping and killing a white woman, to which he pled guilty. A lynch mob dragged Washington from the courthouse and he was beaten with bricks and shovels, castrated, had his ears and fingers cut off, and was then burned alive. His mutilated, hanging body was on public display in Robinson, Texas, near Waco, where these horrific acts took place. A handwritten note in brown ink on the back of the postcard reads: “This is the barbecue we had last night. My picture is to the left with a cross over it. Your son, Joe.” An advertising Stamp on verso reads: “Katy Electric Studio, Temple, Texas, H. Lippe, Prop.”

regional fare such as local landmarks, county fairs, disasters, and portraits; amateurs used them to mail their snapshots out into the world. Like tintypes and snapshots, the subject matter of the often-anonymous postcards taught an appreciation of the vernacular and the beauty of the plain, straight ahead stare.19 Postcards also had their dark side. Since they were inexpensive, simple to display, and easy to circulate, postcards of lynchings and mutilations were

used to support and empower white supremacy and as visual threats to enforce Jim Crow racial segregation and disenfranchisement laws that dominated the American South and southern border states beginning in the 1890s. These racial laws mandated segregation of all aspects of daily life including buses, drinking fountains, hotels, libraries, parks, schools, restaurants, restrooms, and trains.20

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FUTURISM

beauty: “the beauty of speed.” The futurists used the vocabulary of Cubism to show multiple and simultaneous points of view. Futurists were interested in Marey’s photographic work showing the successive positions  of a figure on a single plate because it introduced the notion of continuous time into a fixed space (see Chapter 8). Paradoxically, the futurists rejected photography as an art form, considering it to be too static because of its ability to freeze an instant in the flow of time. Influenced by Futurism, the brothers Anton Giulio Bragaglia (1890–1960) and Arturo Bragaglia (1893–1962), made photographs of figures in motion that blurred the intermediate phases of the action by leaving the camera lens open as their subjects moved (for more on the blur, see Gerhard Richter’s works in Chapter 18). The Bragaglias’ depictions, which they called “Photodynamism,” allowed them to illustrate a continuity of motion in space and time, which they considered to be research into the interior action of emotive artistic values.23 Conceptually, these images connected the science of Positivism with transcendental idealism, suggesting that beyond the visible lay a recordable dynamic of continuous movement at play.24  Such animated photographic tracings of physical gestures, which normally happened too quickly to be observed, expressed the energy and feeling of modernity and linked the Bragaglias with futurist painters such as Giacomo Balla, Umberto Boccioni, and Gino Severini. Despite this, the futurist painters maintained the art hierarchy against photography and excluded the Bragaglias from being welcomed into their movement. Of course, this did not stop the futurists and their performances from being frequently photographed. In the end, the camera would become the definitive futurist tool, for it is a machine proficient at catching the sensation of speed.

A few European artists reacted to technology’s rapid changes to the urban scene with a manifesto on  futurism  in 1909.21  Futurism was promoted by Milanese poet Filippo Tommaso Marinetti (1876– 1944). Referring to himself as “the caffeine of Europe,” Marinetti came to believe that every aspect of human behavior, from cooking to poetry, could be seen as art, making him the godfather of later “happenings” and performance pieces that began with the dadaists during and after World War I. Marinetti was antihistorical and regarded the past as an enemy to be destroyed.22 In its place he wanted to use the power of the machine to create a new type of man. Futurism acclaimed a new modern industrial-age

ANTON GIULIO BRAGAGLIA. Salutando [Waving] 1911. 6 7⁄8 × 9 inches. Gelatin silver print. In his declaration, “Futurist Photodynamism” (written in 1911, but not published until 1913) Anton Giulio Bragaglia made a case for extending the Futuristic concept of dynamism to photography. Bragaglia sought to replace photography’s objective reality of a subject with a projection of the subject’s interior essence, which he called pure movement. He did this by creating a sweeping arc of continuous, fluid motion that caused his subject to dematerialize. Bragaglia wrote: “Photodynamism is a creation that aims to achieve ideals that are quite contrary to the objectives of all the representational means of today… We are not interested in the precise reconstruction of movement, which has already been broken up and analysed. We are involved only in the area of movement which produces sensation, the memory of which still palpitates in our awareness.”25

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TIME, MOVEMENT, AND THE MACHINE In the mechanized era of factory work, management searched for ways to make their workers function more like machines. Fredrick Winslow Taylor, a proponent of “scientific management,” created a stir in labor relations by measuring the time it took the fastest worker to perform a task in order to show management how to increase productivity. Instead of a stopwatch,  Frank B. Gilbreth  (1868–1924) and Lillian M. Gilbreth (1878–1972) used a motion picture camera to examine job sites and uncover “the one best way to do work.” Like the futurists, the Gilbreths wanted to harness the power of the machine to formulate a new type of technological individual. Based on their visual findings, they would redesign job sites so that workers were in the right position to perform most efficiently. Critics protested that it

made work more stressful. The Gilbreths discovered that stereo  photographs delivered the most useful information and developed the “stereo chronocyclegraph,” in which tiny lights attached to the subject gave a visual indication of the physical action.26 The stereo effect made it easy to see which motions were essential to performing a task with the least amount of exertion. Each task was photographed, and the resulting chronocyclegraphs analyzed to provide the pattern of maximum efficiency for each employee to follow. The Gilbreths’ work, like Étienne-Jules Marey’s, alluded to the entire history of an action. The continuous light dashes in their chronocyclegraphs suggested the immediate past and future of the action, allowing for it to be interpreted within the environment in which it took place. The Gilbreths’ style seemed to present facts, but their interpretation favored the interests of Big Business. Their

© FRANK B. and LILLIAN M. GILBRETH. Photograph of Inefficient Work

© FRANK B. and LILLIAN M. GILBRETH. Photograph of Inefficient Work

Operation, circa 1935. 33⁄16 × 2½ inches each on 3½ × 7 inch mount.

Operation, circa 1935. 33⁄16 × 2½ inches each on 3½ × 7 inch mount.

Gelatin silver stereograph (one-half of the stereograph is depicted).

Gelatin silver stereograph (one-half of the stereograph is depicted).

According to a letter written by Lillian Gilbreth to Beaumont Newhall on

COURTESY  George Eastman Museum, Rochester, NY.

July 9, 1957, these chronocyclegraphs were taken for the Eastman Kodak Company. COURTESY  George Eastman Museum, Rochester, NY.

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TOWARD A MODERN PRACTICE : DISTILLING FORM

photographs had an immediate financial and social effect: they helped large businesses make their employees more machinelike, resulting in greater profitability. Although the Gilbreths claimed concern for a worker’s “right to happiness,” others saw their photographs as a vision of the corporate tyranny of continuous production, a loss of personal identity, and the standardization of life. It was science coupled to a process that brought with it a sense of alienation and psychological anxiety, as later satirized by Charlie Chaplin in his film Modern Times (1936).

For  Alvin Langdon Coburn  (1882–1966) pictorialism had run its course. He was ready to push his work forward to abstraction by combining modern notions of personal freedom and futurist attitudes about the dynamic character of the early twentieth century. Coburn created pictures of New York skyscrapers by pointing his camera down at them from an elevated angle, and sometimes by

ALVIN LANGDON COBURN. The Octopus, 1912 (direct overhead view, printed circa 1957). 8 × 10½ inches. Gelatin silver print. Composed in the flowing lines of the Art Nouveau style, Coburn’s softly focused photograph of New York’s Madison Square combines pictorialist methods with a modernist vision that celebrates the urban experience. COURTESY  George Eastman Museum, Rochester, NY.

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replacing the camera lens with various-sized pinholes to modify sharpness. The aerial perspective of The Octopus (1912), made after a fresh snowfall, eliminated unwanted detail and banished the familiar. Coburn abolished the horizon line, flattened perspective, and abstracted shapes, producing a startlingly different point of view of the landscape below. One exposure of the same scene, made from almost directly overhead, was so abstract and therefore unfamiliar that Coburn did not print it for decades. His methods invited viewers to celebrate formalistic beauty rather than the photographic impulse to identify and name subjects. Such work attested to photographers’ readiness to make pure form the content of their images.27  Technological wonders like the skyscraper dominated the urban experience, making the human form less significant.  As moving pictures, telephones, and automobiles entered daily culture and altered the landscape as well as societal perceptions of time and space, artists began to make machines the subjects of their work. Coburn vaulted toward abstraction in 1916 with his kaleidoscopic portraits of the poet Ezra Pound. Coburn called these pictures  vortographs  after Pound’s vorticism movement (1914–1915), a British offshoot of Futurism. Vorticism rejected the cool placidity of Cubism and emphasized abstraction and movement instead. Coburn used a kaleidoscopic prism in front of the lens to distort, flatten, multiply, and transform his subject into two-dimensional forms. In Coburn’s most radical work of this period, he arranged geometric objects on glass to achieve a cubist-like appearance that fractured the realism of the subject and content and the single-point perspective. The vortographs’ rejection of nature as subject was received with such disapproval that Coburn abandoned his investigations. Nevertheless, the vortographs represented what critic Marius de Zayas articulated as photography’s quest within the modernist movement to find a way of “being equally subjective and objective.”

ALVIN LANGDON COBURN. Vortograph (Ezra Pound), 1917. 8 × 6 1⁄16 inches. Gelatin silver print. Is this dynamically composed, robot-like image a golem that protects its master, or does it portray the lost belief in the goodness of the machine? Even though the print is not sharp, this angular machineage image seems to possess an inhuman sense of strength capable of uncircumspect destruction. Ezra Pound’s head is disembodied and appears to be almost sticking on a pike. There is also a hint of a swastika, foreshadowing Pound’s later embrace of fascism that included actively collaborating with Benito Mussolini’s regime and supporting Adolf Hitler. COURTESY  George Eastman Museum, Rochester, NY.

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Visual experiments like Coburn’s moved photographic practice toward the modernist concern with form. While Coburn was experimenting with abstraction, Marius de Zayas, a caricaturist and essayist on modern and African art, saw photography shifting from recording the outside world to penetrating the inner world. This shift reflected the modernist belief that rational scientific values, as understood by the process of distilling form, could be the new basis for life and culture. De Zayas saw a split opening between the realistic and the idiosyncratic approaches as represented by Steichen and Stieglitz and wrote:

Are you interested in the deeper meaning of Photography? Are you interested in the evolution of Photography as a medium of expression? Are you interested in the meaning of “Modern Art?” Are you interested in the Development and Exposition of a living idea? Are you interested in the Freedom of Thought and Freedom of Expression? Camera Work is published for those who know or want to know.29

  By 1917, Stieglitz and Paul Strand would become proponents of “straight” photography, whose essence and limitation lay in its unqualified objectivity and whose power was dependent on its professed purity of use. Others pursued “antiphotographic” pictorial strategies, but Stieglitz’s views dominated the practice until the 1960s. Paul Strand (1890–1976) became interested in photography at the Ethical Culture High School in New York. There he studied under the art critic Charles Caffin and took a photography course from Lewis W. Hine, who sent his class to Stieglitz’s “291” gallery. After completing his studies and establishing himself as a commercial photographer, Strand was encouraged by Stieglitz to relinquish pictorial effects and experiment with the principles of Cubism. This led to Strand’s breakout images of 1916 which featured a series of candid street portraits made with a handheld camera fitted with a false lens attached to its side, allowing him to point the camera in one direction while taking the photograph in another. This method was utilized in his portrait of a blind, woman street peddler, who wore a pin bearing her license number, officially certifying her as being blind, both dehumanizing and legitimizing her as a body of public pity, making it impossible for pedestrians to remain blind to her blindness. Strand’s simplified graphic composition of a marginalized subject unforgettably depicts her adversity and endurance even as her open eye

The work of Steichen brought to its highest expression the aim of the realistic painting of Form. In his photographs he has succeeded in expressing the perfect fusion of the subject and the object. He has carried to its highest point the expression of a system of representation: the realistic one… Stieglitz has begun with the elimination of the subject in represented Form to search for the pure expression of the object … one is the means by which man fuses his idea with the natural expression of Form, while the other is the means by which man tries to bring the natural expression of Form to the cognition of his mind.28

This fundamental difference has continued to affect the practice of photography into the twenty-first century. One continues to be based on empirical science and the other intuitively based on  natural/spiritual ideals. This difference also caused a division between those who thought the purpose of photography was informational, and those who wanted to push beyond the concerns of realism and dive below the surface of a subject. In a 1913 issue of Camera Work, Stieglitz reproduced work by Steichen and displayed his own modernist stance with a boxed announcement:  

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appears to be concentrating beyond Strand. Simultaneously, the emotionally charged image generates a conflicted juxtaposition between the blind and the sighted and how blind people are photographed. In the final issue of Camera Work ( June 1917), Stieglitz presented a persuasively edited sequence of eleven Strand photogravures, including Blind, which moved away from his earlier soft-focus style pictorialist notions into modernist ideologies. Even so, Strand was known to varnish and make surface alterations to his prints. Stieglitz’s awareness of how the physical nature of  a medium helps form the information the viewer receives led him to alter the way in which Camera Work was printed, eliminating his use of tissue proofs to make Strand’s reproductions more effective. Stieglitz comments: These photographs are the direct expression of today. We have cut out the use of Japan tissue for these reproductions, not because of economy, but because the tissue proofs we made destroyed the directness of Mr. Strand’s expression. In their presentation we have intentionally emphasized the spirit of their brutal directness.30

Another image,  New York, moved toward abstraction with the tilted angle of the figures and their shadows on the street. In 1916, images of shadows on a porch like  Abstraction  accentuated geometric form, sharper focus, and close proximity to the subject. By concentrating on important characteristics that could be understood in a purposeful structure, Strand informed viewers that these were not documents but abstract representations. This made Strand not just Stieglitz’s protégé, but one who surpassed his teacher by forging a direct link between modern art and photography.31

PAUL STRAND. Blind, 1916. 8 3⁄16 x 6 9⁄16 inches. Photogravure. Strand’s surprising subject challenged existing assumptions about the medium and came to represent the new American photography that incorporated humanist social documentation with the striking simplified forms of Modernism. Today some might consider this image as a form of exploitation, which treated the subject as an object instead of a fellow human being. However, applying contemporary standards to work from the past, known as Presentism, can lead to a distorted understanding as to a maker’s intent. At the time, Strand said: “They [this series of photographs] required a technique which could only be described as a snapshot … it is a snapshot when it becomes necessary to stop movement… Thoreau said years ago, ‘You can’t say more than you see.’ No matter what lens you use, no matter what the speed of the film is, no matter how you develop it, no matter how you print it, you cannot say more than you see.”32 In that sense, Strand was encouraging viewers to consider the plight of this woman, who they might otherwise look away from, during a time when social reform was gaining public attention. COURTESY  The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles, CA.

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DADA

they merely wanted to “épater la bourgeoisie” (shock the middle class). Dada claimed the freedom to experiment, declaring play the preeminent human activity and using chance and found objects as agents to clear away staid conventions. Dadaists took art out of the studio and into the streets, creating early “happenings.” Dadaist art was produced unconventionally and took unorthodox forms that often combined media, pioneering today’s  culture of mash-ups and sampling. For example, Jean Arp dropped torn paper, “arranged according to the laws of chance,” to form collages. Kurt Schwitters made collages out of garbage. Raoul Hausmann, Man Ray, and Morton Schamberg formed sinister assemblages out of everyday items. Hannah Höch and John Heartfield reinvented photomontage. Their aggressive, anarchic assault on bourgeois values and defiance of previous definitions of art can be linked to improvisational jazz that appeared at the same time. This enraged the public and led to dadaist works being labeled anti-art as their work displayed disgust for artistic discipline, paradoxically making the ideal dadaist one who would be opposed to Dada itself. Marcel Duchamp, a member of the Dada group, invented the idea of the readymade, common manufactured objects that he designated as art merely by selecting and signing them. One readymade was a urinal entitled Fountain (1917). The point was ostensibly to create “a new thought for that object,”34 thus, there was no need to make more objects. Duchamp’s approach was conceptual, making the mental act of choice, not the physical act of the hand, the center of creation. Readymades were Duchamp’s antidote to what he called “retinal art,” art that pleased the eye, because the readymade sought to put the idea before the visual manifestation. Duchamp also separated himself from the traditions of retinal art through his “assisted” readymade LHOOQ (1919), in which he added secondary male sexual characteristics—a black-penciled mustache and goatee—to a postcard of the  Mona Lisa. The title,  LHOOQ,

At the beginning of the twentieth century many people looked to modern machine technology to make life easier and better. However, World War I unleashed an era of industrialized death that nullified most people’s faith in the benevolence of technology and radically altered Western culture. The handheld camera and faster emulsions allowed photographers to make images of World War I that were so distressing that governments often banned or censored frontline photographs. Many European artists were killed, fled to neutral cities, or emigrated to America. In New York Stieglitz offered artists, such as Francis Picabia (1879–1953), who helped establish a typographically emancipated arts journal, 291, a cultural refuge. World War I marked the collapse of Europe as the center of Western civilization and the ascendancy of America as the driving cultural force of the twentieth century. After World War I, a mass disillusionment occurred with a myth of the future based on the machine. Cosmopolitan European artists reacted to the pointlessness of the war by launching an assault on the society that had unleashed such terror and suffering. Novels like James Joyce’s  Ulysses  (1914– 1921) ripped at the logic of language by destroying customary grammar and syntax. Visual artists dismantled what was left of Renaissance perspective and abandoned the precise rendition of heroic subjects in favor of works that relied on chance and irrationality following their desire to remake the world. This collection of exiled artists called themselves dadaists. Nobody knows who invented the name “dada,” but existing records indicate it “emerged by chance from a French dictionary. In French it can mean ‘hobbyhorse’ and ‘nursemaid.’ ”33  However, filmmaker Hans Richter believed it had a relation to the joyous Slavonic phrase, “Da, da” denoting “yes, yes” to life. This open-ended definition mirrors the fact that Dada was never a signature style and did not have a strident, didactic political or social agenda. Instead,

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was an abbreviation of uncouth French schoolboy slang, “She’s got a hot ass.” This Dada gesture satirized not only the cult of the masterpiece but the then forbidden subject of Leonardo’s homosexuality, and Duchamp’s own play with gender roles and performance.35 Along with Picabia, Duchamp influenced artists like Man Ray, who would bring dadaist concepts to photography. From the audience’s point of view, these artists struck the artistic stage of its traditional props and reformatted the reigning rules of beauty. Fountain is a Marcel Duchamp readymade sculpture of a porcelain urinal signed “R. Mutt.” It was submitted for the inaugural exhibition of the Society of Independent Artists, an association of American artists, in New York. Duchamp stated he wanted “everyday objects raised to the dignity of a work of art by the artist’s act of choice.”36 People hotly debated whether it was art or a prank, thus questioning the purpose and meaning of art and leading to the development of conceptual art. Stieglitz photographed Fountain and the result was published in the Dada journal The Blind Man. When asked whether ‘R. Mutt’ was a pun on the German word Armut meaning poverty, Duchamp once claimed Mutt came from J. L. Mott Iron Works, an American hardware manufacturer. The original has been lost and it is possible Stieglitz threw it out as trash, but Duchamp later made replicas. Regardless, “Duchamp did not select just any ready-made object to display. In selecting the urinal, his message was clear: Art is something you piss on.”37

ALFRED STIEGLITZ. Marcel Duchamp’s Fountain, 1917. Published in The Blind Man (No. 2), The original caption read: The exhibit refused by the Independents. COURTESY

Philadelphia Museum of Art, Philadelphia, PA.

were not mathematicians or philosophers, but their concerns were interwoven with those of an industrial world. Even without understanding the details of E = mc2, some artists realized that the rules for ordering everyday life were faltering under the pressure of  a multitude of new experiences, and that innovative forms were needed to contain them. Post-World War I artists reinvented the nineteenth-century  photogram  as a pictorial method of investigating time and space. A photogram can be made in a darkroom by placing an object on top of a photosensitive surface, exposing it to light, and then processing it. A photogram could take an everyday

EXPLORING SPACE AND TIME : THE RETURN OF THE PHOTO GRAM Albert Einstein (1879–1955) and his special theory of relativity (1905) changed the view of the universe more than any scientist since Isaac Newton. Artists

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object and transform it into something the human eye would not normally see, proving that human vision could not be trusted. Although photograms comply with optical laws and their processing can be controlled by normal methods, the results were unforeseeable and unique. Photographically faithful, yet liberated from Renaissance perspective, the photogram seemed able to instinctively express its own rules for representation. The photogram appeared to be a “natural,” automatic process, bypassing the pitfalls of representational systems. Man Ray (born Emmanuel Rudnitsky) (1890– 1976), a painter and member of the New York Dada group led by Duchamp and Picabia, became acquainted with the modern art Stieglitz presented

at “291” in 1910. In 1915, Man Ray learned photography in order to document his paintings, but he was soon experimenting with the machine motifs that fascinated his friends. Duchamp’s cerebral skepticism about the emotional values of painting found an active, sensually poetic voice in Man Ray. Placing objects on white paper, Man Ray airbrushed paint around them, producing white forms on a colored ground similar in concept to the photogram. Man Ray also “reinvented” the photogram in 1922. He later characterized his discovery as an unconscious, “automatic” darkroom happening that occurred in his tiny bathroom/darkroom when he “placed a small glass funnel, the graduate and the thermometer in the tray on the wetted paper and turned on the light.”38 Immodestly, Ray called these cameraless images “rayographs.” The enigmatic quality of the white shadows of the partially revealed everyday objects appealed to the dadaist love of the unexpected and pictorial belief in ordinary items. By moving his light source during the exposure and by shifting the objects in space above the paper, Ray extended the amount of time contained within the image and wreaked havoc with perspective. The technique also added depth and expanded the tonal range, making the work more gestural and dynamic. Ray continued these experiments for decades, selecting objects for their ability to invoke associations, feelings, and memories. The rayograph reopened the definition of a photograph by liberating it from the camera image, returning photography to its basic concept of creating an image through the agency of light. A significant painter, sculptor, and filmmaker, Man Ray participated in the first international Dada exhibition in Paris, joined the surrealist movement in 1924, and exhibited in the first surrealist show in Paris in 1925. He was an avid experimenter who combined diverse techniques, such as the Sabattier effect (or solarization) and the use of negative prints, to create “disturbing objects” that could extend awareness of the interior working of the mind (see

© MAN RAY. Untitled (Gun with Alphabet Squares), 1924. 11 7⁄16 × 9 inches. Gelatin silver print. COURTESY  The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles, CA.

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Chapter 11). His assistants, including photographers Berenice Abbott, Bill Brandt, and Lee Miller, also disseminated his ideas. Arturo Schwarz wrote that “Man Ray never loved or felt admiration for the camera—to his students he would say, ‘if you wish to make photographs throw your camera away!’ Duchamp observed, ‘It was his achievement to treat the camera as he treated the paint brush, as a mere instrument at the service of the mind.’ ”39 Germaine Krull  (1897–1985) was a political activist and photographer who spent time with Man Ray and others in his Paris circle, including writers Sidonie-Gabrielle Colette, André Gide, André Malraux, and artist/filmmaker Jean Cocteau. Her photographically illustrated books, such as  Métal  (1928), an album of sixty-four, numbered, captionless, unbound collotypes of European industrial landscapes could be resequenced each time one engaged with the work and anticipated the typologies later pursued by the Bechers (see Chapter 18). This project made  Krull one of the first to present the photo book as a self-contained, artistic object in itself. She went on to make other photo books, including the first photo-novel, La Folle d’Itteville (1931). Her expressive approach challenged and disrupted the isolated, matter-of-fact New Objectivity aesthetic exemplified by Albert Renger-Patzsch (see Chapter 11). Often, Krull made dramatic, tilted compositions in a geometric style similar to that László Moholy-Nagy and Aleksandr Rodchenko, but injected a feminist flair that runs parallel to the work of Margaret Bourke-White (see Chapter 11). Her dynamic treatment of these masculine metal structures—from bridges, buildings, and towers to bicycle wheels—was organized along the lines of Russian film montage techniques of juxtaposition and can be interpreted both as a celebration and a critique of the intensifying effects of mechanical, metropolitan culture on daily life. Krull displayed her radical, free-spirited nature and lifestyle in her experimental, kinetic work, featuring multilayered

© GERMAINE KRULL. Pol Rab, 1929. 7 5⁄8 × 5¾ inches. Gelatin silver print. COURTESY  Estate of Germaine Krull, Museum Folkwang, Essen, Germany.

images, multiple exposures, photomontages, and sandwiching of negatives, all of which created an intersecting, overlapping, vertigo-like visual experience that metaphorically disorients our Renaissance sense of space and time. László Moholy-Nagy (1895–1946) became the third reinventor of the technique he called the photogram,40  based on an analogy with the telegram. With Einstein working in Berlin and describing the world as a four-dimensional space-time continuum, it follows that the Berlin avant-garde would find new positions for observing the world.41 In Berlin, Moholy-Nagy sought to make images without transmitting the sentimental values of the hand

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LÁSZLÓ MOHOLY-NAGY and LUCIA MOHOLY. Fotogramme, circa 1922. 13.8 x 10.7 inches. Gelatin silver print. This two-faced figure is a double portrait that depicts László on the right and Lucia, his first wife (1921‒1929), on the left. They took turns placing their heads on the photographic paper, creating what that are thought to be the earliest surviving self-portrait photograms. MoholyNagy invented the word photogram to describe prints made by placing objects or the shadows of objects directly on to photographic paper and then exposing and processing the paper. This photogram is an editioned reproduction from the unique original, which was part of the portfolio: Fotogramme, 19221926. © 2024 Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York, NY/VG Bild-Kunst, Bonn. COURTESY

Victoria and Albert Museum, London.

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and brush. In a search for a medium that retained its spiritual purity by “painting” itself, Moholy-Nagy became interested in portraying the dynamics of light and space. This interest also flowed through a motorized sculpture he titled  Light-Space Modulator (1922–1930), a work he frequently photographed and filmed as well.42 Moholy-Nagy came from a constructivist background. Constructivism covered a period from 1913 through the 1920s during which Russian avantgarde artists rejected easel painting and the idea of “art for art’s sake” in favor of utilitarian designs intended for mass production. Photography seemed an ideal constructivist medium: it was considered the antithesis of painting by many traditional artists and offered a way to make images in quantity. Moholy-Nagy regarded photography as a means by which light, instead of paint, could sketch itself on a photosensitive surface. The obstacle in the direct link he sought was the camera lens. The photogram eliminated the lens, allowing pure light to directly picture itself as an organic element. The photogram thereby permitted Moholy to retain the constructivist principle of “truth to materials” and reflected the constructivist celebration of scientific rationality and technology. Moholy-Nagy’s photogram of a face shows us an  artist who uses his and/or her “head” to shape the constantly changing flow of light in time (during the photogram’s production), space, and volume. His later photograms moved away from identifiable objects to what Moholy referred to as “light modulators,” allowing the experiments to concentrate on form and light as the source of all content. Moholy-Nagy stated:

The photogram, as Talbot had first realized, presented a “light paradox” that reversed the nineteenth century’s trust in photographic description and narrative content. It inverted the values of the subject and produced a “negative” rendering with no narrative format. Without using mechanical darkroom equipment, a photogram, unlike a normal photograph, revealed only what was blocked by the light, not what was illuminated by it. Like x-rays, photograms divulged unforeseen facets of reality. By banishing linear perspective, the photogram liberated photography from its role as the literal depicter of nature. These differences demonstrated the relativity of the viewing experience and even challenged the visually educated by denying viewers easy entry into the work. Moholy, who in 1929 called for “light studios to replace outdated painters’ academies,” situated the photogram as a fundamental photographic form capable of opening other doors of perception.44

SURREALISM Surrealism emerged after World War I from Symbolism and dadaism.  Surrealism, a term coined by the French poet and critic Guillaume Apollinaire (1880–1918) in 1917, portrayed a state of mind rather than a style. Begun as a European literary movement influenced by psychoanalytic thinking, surrealism helped to popularize Freudian notions about dreams, sex, the unconscious, and free association through methods that liberated one from conscious reason and convention, such as automatic writing. The movement was defined by French poet André Breton (1896–1966) in his first “Manifesto of Surrealism” (1924) as:

The photogram … is the real key to photography. It allows us to capture the patterned interplay of light on a sheet of sensitized paper without recourse to any apparatus. The photogram opens up perspectives of a hitherto wholly unknown morphosis governed by optical laws peculiar to itself. It is the most completely dematerialized medium which the new vision commands.43

Psychic automatism in its pure state by which one proposes to express—verbally, by means of the written word, or in any other manner—the actual functioning

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oneself from “the reign of logic.” Breton described “the realistic attitude, inspired by positivism … [as] hostile to any intellectual or moral advancement … for it is made up of mediocrity, hate, and dull conceit … by flattering the lowest tastes.”46  In the 1930s, people began to accept the notion that dreams could mirror repressed emotions and fantasies. Dream interpretation became in vogue, and photographers responded by devising images that evoked the prevailing conceptions of the dream world.

of thought. Dictated by thought, in the absence of any control exercised by reason, exempt from any aesthetic or moral concern… Surrealism is based on the belief in the superior reality of certain forms of previously neglected associations, in the omnipotence of dream, in the disinterested play of thought.45

Celebrating the dream as a method of problem solving, Breton looked toward “madness”—hallucination and illusions—as a pathway capable of freeing

COLLAGE AND PHOTOMONTAGE The collage works of  Max Ernst  (1891–1976) present an enigmatic group of fantasy images arranged in a dreamlike chance-encounter format. Based on readymade images, cut from catalogs and magazines, they offered up a dread-filled parallel universe that defied bourgeois explanation. Ernst’s collage-novels took revenge on the late Victorian world of his youth by irrationally attacking and subverting its authoritarian underpinnings. Ernst wrested improbable meaning from images by using frottage (rubbing) and cliché-verre to illustrate books, such as Mr. Knife, Miss Fork (1931) by René Crevel. Raoul Hausmann (1886–1971) founded the Berlin Dada Club and, during the summer of 1918, created avant-garde  photographic collages  out of cut-up photographs based on a practice used in advertising since the nineteenth century. A photographic collage was produced when cut and/or torn pieces from one or more photographs were combined on a common support material. An expanded definition might include images from magazines and newspapers; combinations of colored papers, wallpaper, or fabric; natural materials such as flowers, leaves, and sand; and three-dimensional objects. The artist did not attempt to deny that the image

© MAX ERNST. Mr. Knife, Miss Fork, 1931. 9 5⁄16× 7½ inches. Cliché-verre.

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RAOUL HAUSMANN. The Art Critic, 1919‒1920. 10 x 314⁄5 inches. Mixed media. Collected from everyday sources, The Art Critic is a denunciation of the art establishment. It presents a disproportioned figure with an oversized head attached to a fashionably-suited body that holds a an oversized, irreverently positioned Venus pencil. The fragment of a German banknote behind the critic’s neck suggests that he is ruled by a capitalist agenda. As in numerous Dada works, it includes self-references. It has been stated the figure is a portrait of Hausmann’s friend and fellow Berlin dadaist, George Grosz. The right-hand side has a snippet of Hausmann’s business card, placed directly above a silhouetted figure filled with newsprint text that is most likely based upon a photograph of Hausmann himself. The background is composed of one of Hausmann’s sound poems consisting of simple letters that were randomly chosen at Hausmann’s request by a commercial printer, and later were spoken in public performances. The words in the background are part of a poem poster made by Hausmann to be pasted on walls in Berlin.

was made up from a variety of source materials. It was not rephotographed and was itself presented as the final image. Hausmann also wrote a manifesto titled “The New Material in Painting,” in which he demanded an alternative to traditional oil paint. Dada gave Hausmann the freedom to experiment

with new materials and forms of expression, leading him to develop photomontage as a dynamic and versatile pictorial device for cultural criticism featuring satire and political protest (see Chapter 14). Hausmann, along with German dadaists George Grosz, John Heartfield (see Chapter 14), and 

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Hannah Höch  (1889–1978), pushed the idea of using mass-printed source material by inventing the  photomontage  in which pieces of photographs and other printed matter were combined into new compositions. A photographic montage follows the guidelines of collage, but the completed work is then photographed in order to convert the final image back into a photographic print. This gives the option of using photographic methods to hide the sources of the work’s various images and materials to create a new, seamless representation from which additional copies may be reproduced. Much more recent digital imaging tools, eliminating the requirement of skillful, intricate, and laborious handwork, would later replicate the constructive concepts such pieces demanded. They called their approach montage, meaning “assembly line,” and termed the maker “monteur,” or “engineer/mechanic,” indicating that the picture was “engineered,” not “created.” World War I and the era’s cultural and scientific revolutions affected the German dadaists’ syntax with the cut and torn refuse of urban life acting as a metaphor for the divided and fragmented society of the Weimar Republic. Combining found photographs and text enabled the dadaists to alter the original content and attack the bourgeois with images from their own publications. Höch’s work offered insight into the new woman, the redefinition of women’s roles going on in German society. The increase in mass print media that constituted Höch’s raw material supplied her with fresh images of women’s changing identity—working, using appliances, and modeling in advertisements. Höch explored the intersection of avant-garde photomontage and the splintered experience of daily life in Weimar Germany. Her work dynamic deployed allegory, caricature, the grotesque, and irony, reflecting the dadaist concern with alienation (Verfremdung) and estrangement, taking the familiar and making it unfamiliar, and refashioning photo-based images into photomontages. Höch’s disruptive, emotionally and sexually charged work played on

© HANNAH HÖCH. German Girl, 1930. 8 × 4 1⁄8 inches. Collage of cut and pasted papers and photographs on paper. Hannah Höch was known for her recontextualized photomontage compositions that challenge Weimar-era perceptions of gender and ethnic differences. She was banned from exhibiting during the Nazi regime, but she remained in Germany during World War II. Höch asserted that “there are no limits to the materials available for pictorial collages—above all they can be found in photography, but also in writing and printed matter, even in waste products.”47

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tensions between anger/violence and pleasure/ beauty to investigate issues of femininity and identity.48 Some of Höch’s other montages, like German Girl (1930), also fused Western and tribal imagery, thus dissolving the hierarchy that had defined their cultural relationship. Höch worked with montage throughout her life. She catalogued and reconfigured the signs of modernism to reflect the upheaval and uncertainty of the post-World War I Weimar period. Viewers saw the shattering and rearranging of traditional women’s roles, involving children, kitchen, and church, as another frightening aspect of the changes that led many to embrace national socialism.49 In the 1920s and 1930s photomontage penetrated art and mass media in Germany, the Soviet Union, and the United States. It visualized common cultural themes in a new system of representation that ruptured the narrative format and Renaissance window frame. Montage broke out of “straight” photography’s encasements and replaced it with reassembled images that conveyed a multifaceted sense of reality. It collapsed multiple points of views—discontinuous subjects, in different locations, and at various times—into a single, often unexpected, view. These newly created juxtapositions extended the concept of publicly acceptable reality by linking subjects that in turn formed new relationships that were not previously visible. This encouraged viewers to rethink their previous ideas about the subjects, their visual capacities, and to formulate new opinions. Gustav Klutsis (1895–1938) was a pioneering Latvian artist and member of the Constructivist avan-tgarde during the early twentieth century. He is recognized for the Soviet revolutionary and Stalinist propaganda he created with his wife Valentina Kulagina (1902–1987) and for cultivating revolutionary photomontage techniques. Russian artists, like Klutsis and Aleksandr Rodchenko, were inspired by the techniques of Soviet film directors such as Sergei Eisenstein, whose film Battleship

GUSTAV KLUTSIS. Maquette for the poster for Anti-Imperialist Exhibition (Anti-imperialisticheskaia vystavka), Central Park of Culture and Leisure (now Gorky Park), Moscow (detail), August 1931. 14 5⁄8 × 10¼ inches. Cut-and-pasted gelatin silver prints, printed and painted paper with gouache on paper. © 2024 Estate of Gustav Klutsis/Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York. COURTESY

The Museum of Modern Art, New York.

Potemkin (1925), demonstrated how the juxtaposition of nonsequential images could shape viewers’ thoughts and feelings. Soviet photomontage flourished during the 1920s, but was brought to an end by World War II and the tightening of state control over cultural and social institutions. By 1934, the First Congress of Soviet Writers made socialist realism the official style of Soviet culture. This led to Stalin ordering Klutsis’s arrest and execution in 1938, even though Klutsis was a zealous supporter of the Bolshevik regime and a member of the Communist Party.

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ALEKSANDR RODCHENKO. Diver, 1934. 9½ × 7¼ inches. Gelatin silver print. Rodchenko wrote: “In photography there is the old point of view, the angle of vision of a man who stands on the ground and looks straight ahead or, as I call it, makes ‘bellybutton’ shots… I fight this point of view, and will fight it, along with my colleagues in the new photography. The most interesting angle shots today are those ‘down from above’ and ‘up from below,’ and their diagonals.”50 © Estate of Aleksandr-Rodchenko/RAO, Moscow/VAGA, New York, NY.

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SUPREMATISM

cultured modern man must wage war against art… Photograph and be photographed!51

Aleksandr Rodchenko  (1891–1956) came from a  Suprematism  background that gave artists permission to depart from the objective illustration of the world. Suprematism (1915–1923), a Russian avant-garde movement, reduced painting to pure geometric abstraction by purging conspicuous allusions to the real world. It formed the high-water mark for diverse artistic experiments affiliated with Russia’s successful Bolshevik Revolution. Tracing its roots back to Cubism and Futurism, Kazimir Malevich defined the movement as “the supremacy of pure feeling.” Suprematist ideas influenced Constructivism and spread to the Bauhaus via Russian artists (see next section) when they entered into the discourse of modern art. A leader of the constructivists and a supporter of the Russian Revolution, Rodchenko viewed these new systems of seeing as a way to reshape society. In 1920, Rodchenko joined Inkhuk (the Institute of Artistic Culture), whose mission was to integrate art into everyday life. Abandoning painting for graphic design, Rodchenko designed some of the most original political posters in a Soviet culture where the poster developed as a primary form of mass communication. Around 1923, Rodchenko came under the influence of El Lissitzky, an innovative typographical designer who wed abstract form to social usage, and Moholy-Nagy, and then commenced making photomontages. For Rodchenko photography presented the ideal socialist medium: it was inexpensive, quick, repeatable, and understandable. Photography, according to Rodchenko, would furnish the monuments of the future:

By 1924, Rodchenko adopted a small hand camera to make photographs of people and ordinary scenes that explored unconventional points of view. His pictures disturbed rules of composition and subject hierarchy, setting atypical priorities of visual importance. Seeing as the camera sees, Rodchenko developed an unusual grasp of space by tilting the camera and shooting from above or below the subject, using the instantaneous sense of the snapshot to create a consciousness of activity. These often-diagonal compositions were reinforced by a rhythm of contrast between the highlight and shadow areas, delivering psychological retorts and factual information about the times. Rodchenko defined a socially relevant photograph as a revolutionary act, one that destabilized his audience by portraying everyday scenes from  unfamiliar  angles. Although Communist officials initially supported Rodchenko, by the late 1920s he came under attack from the Communist Party who interpreted his unfamiliar angles as a perversion of social reality.52

THE BAUHAUS: ART, TECHNOLO GY, AND A NEW FAITH While some imagemakers disassembled the narrative and looked for ways to visualize inner psychological experiences, others challenged the idea of content through their investigations of form based on new technologies. The most influential spot for these investigations was the Bauhaus school of art, craft, and design, founded in 1919 by architect Walter Gropius in the hyperinflationary economy of Weimar Germany. The Bauhaus, roughly meaning “building house,” had its lineage in the socialist

What ought to remain of Lenin: an art bronze, oil portraits, etchings, watercolours, his secretary’s diary, his friend’s memoirs—or—a file of photographs taken of him at work and rest …? I don’t think there’s a choice. Art has no place in modern life… Every

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notions of the arts and crafts movement. Gropius designed its curriculum to synthesize architecture, painting, and sculpture into a single way of thinking and creating. In its effort to revitalize crafts, the Bauhaus, unlike the Arts and Crafts movement, sanctioned industrial technology. It sought to unite constructivist concern for modern materials with the emotional content of expressionism and the

higher consciousness of spiritualism. Its faculty included Josef Albers, Herbert Bayer (see Chapter 11), Theo van Doesburg, Wassily Kandinsky, Paul Klee, El Lissitzky (1890–1941), and László Moholy-Nagy. Under its credo, “Art and Technology, a new unity,” the Bauhaus concentrated on functional craftsmanship as applied to the problems of mass production,  producing revolutionary designs in tubular steel furniture, typography, and ceramics as well as experiments in abstract film, photography, dance, theater, and sculpture. Hitler closed the school in 1932, forcing most of the faculty to emigrate. Moholy-Nagy founded the New Bauhaus (now the Institute of Design, Illinois Institute of Technology) in Chicago in 1937, which introduced innovative concepts about photographic process in the United States and established a precedent of teaching photography at the graduate level.

PRECISIONISM Philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche’s proclamation about the death of God in 1882 was based on his observation that the rapid expansion of technology produced social changes that caused traditional beliefs to crumble. Scientific discoveries like Einstein’s Relativity Theory (1905 and 1915) seemed to indicate that the world could not be trusted to be what people considered to be rational. In the heyday of American economic growth following World War I, American painters like Charles Demuth, Georgia O’Keeffe, Charles Scheeler, and Morton Schamberg (1881–1918) took a more formalistic and highly materialistic approach to replacing their loss of faith and embraced the strong, self-evident precepts of  Precisionism. Precisionism (1918– 1930) incorporated the streamlined design of Cubism while retaining more recognizable subject matter, reflecting American society’s antagonism

EL LISSITZKY. Lenin Tribune, sketch, 1920. 9.1 x 12.2 inches. Mixed media on paper.Lazar Markovich Lissitzky, known as El Lissitzky (1890‒1941), was a Russian architect, artist, designer, photographer, polemicist, and typographer who used colors and straightforward geometric shapes to make sharp political statements. Lissitzky believed that the artist could be a change agent, which he summed up with his edict, “das zielbewußte Schaffen” (goal-oriented creation). His work influenced the Bauhaus and constructivist movements. His experimental production techniques and exceptional, stylistic devices became pivotal elements of twentieth-century graphic design. COURTESY

Collection State Tretyakov Gallery, Moscow.

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MORTON SCHAMBERG. God, by Baroness Elsa von Freytag-Loringhoven and Morton Schamberg, 1917. 9½ x 7 9⁄16 inches. Gelatin silver print. COURTESY

Museum of Fine Arts, Houston, TX.

toward dematerialization and complete abstraction. Its spatially flattened formations celebrated the down-to-earth, solid geometric forms of the technologically rooted industrial and architectural landscape of concrete and steel, such as factories, grain elevators, machines, and skyscrapers, with directness and simplicity. God consists of an upside down household plumbing trap mounted on a wooden miter box. This

readymade construction delivers a satirical homage to the machine by invoking Marcel Duchamp’s acclaim of bridges and plumbing as America’s greatest contributions to civilization. Duchamp and the Baroness were friends and a case has been made that she is progenitor of the readymade.53 The work of Morton Schamberg (1881–1918) and  Charles Sheeler  (1883–1965) exemplified what Paul Strand considered to be “the very essence

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© CHARLES SHEELER. Criss-Crossed Conveyors, Ford Plant, 1927. 9¼ × 7 3⁄8 inches. Gelatin silver print. Sheeler summed up his analytical picturemaking method by stating: “I favor the picture that is planned and executed with the same consideration for its parts—within the complete design as is necessary in the building of a watch or an aeroplane.”54 COURTESY  Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, MA.

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PAUL STRAND AND STRAIGHT PHOTO GRAPHY: PURITY OF USE

of photography,” the camera’s “absolute unqualified objectivity.”55 These artists replaced American faith in ephemeral spiritualism with something physical, an essence one could believe in regardless of what science discovered next. Schamberg’s death in the flu epidemic of 1918 prematurely ended his work of placing abstracted machine parts into paintings and making cubist-derived, geometric urban photographs. In 1914, Sheeler initiated a series in both paintings and photographs celebrating the “straight” American style of form and texture as found in Pennsylvania barns. Soon he was photographing the details of the unadorned interior of the stone farmhouse he shared with Schamberg, a house styled on necessity. This recognition of the plain design strength of line found its way into the modernist compositions that were fascinated with revealing the “soul” of machines. In 1923, Steichen hired Sheeler to photograph for the magazines Vogue and Vanity Fair. In 1927, Sheeler secured a commission to photograph the Ford Motor Works at River Rouge, the site where Henry Ford manufactured an automobile that working people could afford through industrial standardization. Sheeler’s concern for structure slimmed down the industrial compositions to a skeleton of interacting, geometric forms without any of disorderly humanity. In his pictures, mechanical perfection reigned, allowing viewers to believe that the industrial landscape could lead to a logical utopia. These machine-based images served Sheeler as models for drawings and paintings that also celebrated the machine as heroic and stalwart subject matter. In turn, the resulting photographic image was presented as a machine.

Writing in the final 1917 issue of  Camera Work, Strand helped plot the course of “straight” photography for the next few generations: Photography  …  finds its raison d’etre, like all media, in a complete uniqueness of means. This is an absolute unqualified objectivity… The full potential power of every medium is dependent upon the purity of its use… This means a real respect for the thing in front of him, expressed in terms of chiaroscuro… The fullest realization of this is accomplished without tricks of process or manipulation, through the use of straight photographic methods.56

After serving as an x-ray technician during World War I, Strand teamed up with Charles Sheeler to make a short film,  Mannahatta  (1921), combining confident, soaring, geometric visions of urban New York’s skyscrapers with fragments of Walt Whitman’s poems. In 1922, Strand purchased an Akeley motion picture camera and for the next seven years made his living doing film work. In his article “Photography and the New God” (1922), Strand narrated the union of a fictional inventor and a scientist who created a “new Trinity: God the Machine, Materialistic Empiricism the Son, and Science the Holy Ghost.”57  This fable aptly symbolized the new secular era whose deity was the machine. In a decade when Karel Câpek introduced the term “robot” in his play  R.U.R. (1921), and the first American science fiction magazine,  Amazing Stories, hit the stands (1926), Strand looked for ways to have his photographs embody this machine-conscious period. Strand’s formalistic and scientific outlook, on view in his machine images, opposed the emotional and irrational. These images would lay the groundwork for

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PAUL STRAND. The Lathe, 1923. 9¾ × 7½ inches. Gelatin silver print. © Aperture Foundation, Inc., Paul Strand Archive.

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the mainline modernistic aesthetic values of photographic practice for nearly six decades, serving as visual indicators of a widening gulf between science and art.

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During this period the world witnessed the invention of the phonograph (1877), the incandescent filament light bulb (1879), the recoil-operated machine gun (1882), synthetic fiber (1883), the steam turbine (1884), the electric motor and pneumatic tire (1888), the Diesel engine (1892), the Ford automobile, and the gramophone disk (1894). As the century drew to a close the pace became even more frenzied with the discovery of x-rays, the principles of rocket propulsion, and the publication of Freud’s studies on hysteria (1895), and the opening of the Niagara Falls hydroelectric plant (1896). These were followed by the discovery of radium (1898), the magnetic recording of sound (1899), the first voice radio transmissions (1900), the Wright brothers’ first airplane flight (1903), the digging of the Panama Canal (1904), and Albert Einstein’s formulation of the special theory of relativity  (1905), the photon theory of light (precursor of quantum theory), and his law of mass-energy equivalence, E = mc2, the harbinger of the nuclear age. For more on the longstanding connections between camera images (which pre-date photography) and linear perspective, see excerpts of Leon Battista Alberti’s earliest writings on linear perspective from his book  On Painting  (1540) reprinted in the “Before Photography” section of Andrew E. Hershberger, ed.,  Photographic Theory: An Historical Anthology  (Boston, MA and Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell, 2014), 24–28. See also related writings by Erwin Panofsky (1927), 156–60, Nelson Goodman (1968), 207–10, and Peter Galassi (1981), 214–18. See “Picasso and Braque Develop Analytical Cubism” in Hal Foster et al.,  Art Since 1900: 1900 – 1944 Vol. 1 (New York: Thames & Hudson, 2004), 106–17. Einstein discovered that as time expands, space contracts, annihilating Euclid’s concept of space and time as separate phenomena. The popular understanding of this theory is expressed by the space traveler who comes back to earth almost unaged when compared to those who stayed on the planet. Trompe-l’œil is a term for the highly realistic optical

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illusion of three-dimensional space and objects on a two-dimensional surface. It is usually associated with painting that tricks the viewer into perceiving painted objects or spaces as real. See: Emily Braun, Elizabeth Cowling, et al., Cubism and the Trompe l’Oeil Tradition (New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2022). See Anne Baldessari, Picasso and Photography: The Dark Mirror (Paris: Flammarion, 1997), 45–61. For additional readings on this longstanding and controversial issue, see the interrelated articles in Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, especially within the subsections on “What Should Photographs Look Like?” on pp. 113–22 and 139–53. It is not clear when Stieglitz first printed The Steerage as he didn’t publish it until four years after making the negative. Some critics claim his account of taking The Steerage, which was written much later, acts as a self-serving retrospective effort to cover the fact that he didn’t recognize the significance of the image until later. Nevertheless, The Steerage is emblematic of the new “straight” aesthetic. Edward Weston (1886–1958) formalized the theory of photographic previsualization in his article “Seeing Photographically” (1943), reprinted in Hershberger, ed.,  Photographic Theory, 132–35. Jerry Uelsmann (b. 1934) defined the opposite approach in his essay “Post-Visualization” (1967), 232–34. Dorothy Norman,  Alfred Stieglitz: An American Seer (New York: Random House, 1973), 76. Calvin Tomkins,  Duchamp: A Biography  (New York: Henry Holt & Co., 1996), 117. Norman, Alfred Stieglitz, 76. Ibid., 128. Continued evidence of this lack of support can be witnessed in the funding of the National Endowment for the Arts, which was not established until 1965; its budget remains one of the smallest of any industrial nation. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nude_Descending_a_ Staircase,_No._2#/media/File:Female_nude_motion_ study_by_Eadweard_Muybridge See Kirk Varnedoe and Adam Gopnik, eds., Modern Art and Popular Culture: Reading in High & Low (New York: Harry N. Abrams and The Museum of Modern Art, 1990). Norman, Alfred Stieglitz, 121. Ibid., 212. Robert Bogdan and Todd Weseloh, Real Photo Postcard Guide: The People’s Photography (Syracuse, NY: Syracuse University Press, 2006).

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20 In 1896, the U.S. Supreme Court established the doc-

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trine of separate but equal in Plessy v. Ferguson, after a Black man in New Orleans attempted to sit in a whitesonly railway car. Legally, Blacks were supposed to receive “separate but equal” services. In reality public facilities for Blacks were usually inferior to those for whites, if they existed at all. Additionally, Blacks were systematically denied the right to vote in most of the rural South through the selective application of literacy tests and other racially incited criteria. The Jim Crow system was maintained by local government officials and reinforced by terrorist acts perpetrated by Vigilantes, such as the Ku Klux Klan (KKK), especially lynchings. From 1877 to 1968, 4,743 lynchings occurred in the United States. Of these people that were lynched 3,446 were Black. See Campbell Robertson, “History of Lynching in the South Documents Nearly 4,000 Names,”  The New York Times, February 10, 2015, A11. (www.nytimes. com/2015/02/10/us/history-of-lynchings-in-thesouth-documents-nearly-4000-names.html) F. T. Marinetti, “The Founding and Manifesto of Futurism 1909”; reprinted in Futurist Manifestos, ed. Umbro Apollonio,  The Documents of 20th Century Art  (New York: Viking Press, 1973), 19–24. Acting as an agent-provocateur for modern art, Marinetti called for the destruction of libraries and museums, referring to them as “mausoleums,” and glorified speed, violence, and war as “the world’s only hygiene.” The futurist worship of the machine and the belief that technology would allow humans to solve all their social ills was supported by many of Europe’s avant-garde. The futurists welcomed the start of World War I as the end of nineteenth-century civilization, but it had the side effect of killing some of the group’s most talented members. After the war, the surviving futurists were assimilated into fascism. For an in-depth explanation, including a comparison with Marey’s work see Anton Giulio Bragaglia, “Futurist Photodynamism,” www.italianfuturism.org/manifestos/ futuristphotomanifesto/ This suggests the influence of Henri Bergson (1859– 1941) on the futurists. See, for example, Bergson’s “The Cinematographical Mechanism of Thought and the Mechanistic Illusion,” (1907) in Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 108–12. Apollonio, Umbro, ed.,  Documents of 20th Century Art: Futurist Manifestos. Robert Brain, R.W. Flint, J.C. Higgitt, and Caroline Tisdall, trans. (New York:

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Viking Press, 1973), 38–45. (www.italianfuturism.org/ manifestos/futuristphotomanifesto) During this procedure, tiny electric lights, blinking twenty times a second, were secured to a worker’s wrists and a single sequence of the subject’s motions were recorded in a darkened space called the “betterment room.” The direction of the hand movements was easy to see as the photographic plate saw the light tracings as discrete, white, pearl-shaped increments. Distance was gauged through the use of a background grid. Time was measured by including a clock. The distance between the light fragments indicated pauses and variations in speed. Photography here enters into a lengthy debate in aesthetics over form and content. The Italian philosopher Benedetto Croce (1866–1952) provided a key statement on the  issue in his 1902 text  Æsthetic, excerpted in Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 105–7. American photographer Paul Strand (1890–1976) rebutted Croce’s argument in 1922, also in  Photographic Theory, 126–29. Marius de Zayas, “Photography and Artistic-Photography,” Camera Work, nos. 42/43 (April/July 1913), 13–14; also reprinted in Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 121–22, quote on p. 122. Camera Work, nos. 42/43 (April/July 1913), unp. Alfred Stieglitz, Camera Work, 49/50 ( June 1917), 36. See Maria Morris Hambourg,  Paul Strand Circa 1916  (New York: The Metropolitan Museum of Art, 1998). Paul Strand in The Snapshot, Jonathan Green, ed., Aperture, vol. 19, no. 1, 48–49, also as a book, 1974. Jed Rasula,  Destruction was My Beatrice: Dada and the Unmaking of the Twentieth Century  (New York: Basic Books, 2015), 23. This is an excellent source to learn more about this revolutionary movement. Anonymous article in The Blind Man # 2 (May 1917), 5. Written by Beatrice Wood, H. P. Roché and/or Marcel Duchamp. Quoted in Kristine Stiles, ed.,  Theories and Documents of Contemporary Art—A Sourcebook of Artists’ Writings, 2nd edition (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 2012), 971. During the 1920s, Man Ray photographed Duchamp as his female alter-ego, “Rrose Sélavy” (a pun on the French pronunciation Eros, c’est la vie “Sex, that’s life”). Duchamp went on to use the pseudonym for some of his creations and writings. Duchamp’s interest in androgyny and gender deception can be seen when he turned the Mona Lisa into a man by drawing a mustache on her.

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36 Tim Martin, Essential Surrealists (Bath: Dempsey Parr, 37

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1999), 42. Stephen Ronald Craig Hicks. Explaining Postmodernism: Skepticism and Socialism from Rousseau to Foucault (Tempe, AZ: Scholarly Publishing, 2004), 196. See Arturo Schwarz, Man Ray: The Rigour of Imagination (New York: Rizzoli, 1977), 236. Schwarz, Man Ray, 230. Moholy-Nagy first introduced the term “photogram” in his  Malerei Fotografie Film  (Munich, 1925), Bauhaus Book no. 8. Two years earlier, he published a theoretical manifesto on the process and called it “Light: A Medium of Plastic Expression” (1923), reprinted in Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 130–31. See Linda Dalrymple Henderson, “Einstein and 20th-Century Art: A romance of Many Dimensions” in Peter Galison, Gerald James Holton, Silvan S. Schwebe, eds., Einstein for the 21st Century: His Legacy in Science, Art, and Modern Culture  (Princeton, NJ and Oxford: Princeton University Press, 2008), 101–29. A reconstructed version of this sculpture can be studied today in the Bauhaus Archive in Berlin. See http:// bauhaus-online.de/en/atlas/werke/light-space-modulator. One is also available at the Harvard University Museums. Moholy-Nagy, “A New Instrument of Vision,”  Telehor  (Brno, 1936); reprinted in Richard Kostelanetz, ed.,  Moholy-Nagy (New York: Praeger, 1970), 50. Along with photography’s English inventor Talbot, Moholy-Nagy’s interest in light and movement also connects him with photography’s French inventor, Daguerre. See Daguerre’s article entitled “Description of the Process of Painting and Effects of Light Invented by Daguerre, and Applied by Him to the Pictures of the Diorama” (1839), reprinted in Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 31–34. Jean-Jacques Pauvert, ed.,  André Breton: Manifestoes of Surrealism, translated by Richard Seaver and Helen R. Lane (Ann Arbor, MI: The University of Michigan Press, 1972), 26. Ibid., 6. Hannah Höch, “On Collage,” in Hannah Höch, ed. Dawn Ades and Daniel F. Herrmann (London: Whitechapel Gallery, 2014). See Maud Lavin, Cut with the Kitchen Knife: The Weimar Photomontages of Hannah Höch (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1993). For a group of stimulating essays on the emergence of

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women artists see Elizabeth Otto and Vanessa Rocco, eds.,  The New Woman International: Representations in Photography and Film from the 1870s through the 1960s  (Ann Arbor, MI: University of Michigan Press, 2011). Beaumont Newhall,  The History of Photography: From 1839 to the Present (New York: The Museum of Modern Art, 1982), 201. Robert Hughes, The Shock of the New (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1981) 95. For more on Rodchenko and Soviet avant-garde photography see Susan Tumarkin Goodman et al.,  The Power of Pictures: Early Soviet Photography, Early Soviet Film (New York: Jewish Museum, 2015). See: Glyn Thompson. “Only in Philadelphia,” November 9, 2017 https://archive.org/details/mma_god_by_ baroness_elsa_von_freytagloringhoven_and_morton_ schamberg_261000 Archives of American Art, Charles Sheeler Papers, 4 pp., n.d., Reel NSH—1. Quoted in Merrill Schleier, The Skyscraper in American Art, 1890–1931 (New York: Da Capo Press, republication, 1986), 80. Paul Strand, “Photography,” The Seven Arts, vol. 2, no. 10 (August 1917), 524. Paul Strand, “Photography,”  Camera Work  nos. 49/50 ( June 1917), 3. See Strand’s “Photography and the New God” (1922) reprinted in Hershberger, ed.,  Photographic Theory, 126–29, quote on p. 127.

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TEACHING MODERNISM : THE AMERICAN IMPULSE

in the new world was cleaner, clearer, and sharper than the refined atmosphere of the old world. The American approach to light gave spiritual significance to the ordinary subjects of a material culture dedicated to finding better, faster, more affordable ways of performing tasks in order to make goods affordable to all. Instead of building another Chartres, Americans like Henry Ford built automobile assembly lines, manufacturing an entire culture around a mass-produced item that promised personal freedom. In addition to the activities at “291,” the Clarence H. White School of Photography (operational 1914–1942), which offered classes in New York, Connecticut, and Maine, provided a site for the modernist aesthetic to flourish. The White School especially emphasized the design theories of Arthur Wesley Dow, who underscored simplified geometric design as the basic structure of art.2  While photography in Europe continued to be taught as a commercial craft in an apprenticeship system, the White School applied the artistic principles of Modernism to training a generation of professionals, including Paul Outerbridge, Anton Bruehl (1900–1982), Ralph Steiner, Laura Gilpin, Margaret Bourke-White, Dorothea Lange, Karl Struss (1886–1981), and Doris Ulmann (1884–1934). The only school in the United States devoted exclusively to the instruction of art photography, it set a

The political and social chaos and mass destruction in post-World War I Europe gave America the opportunity to assume a leadership role as a global cultural and economic center. Although another major war would be fought before the American art world would become the “center” persuasively, between the end of World War I in 1918 and the start of World War II in 1939 Americans took on an active role in shaping Western photographic practice. Many intellectuals of the time did not recognize the aesthetic accomplishments of America’s indigenous populations, and therefore perceived the country as having no artistic history to rival the cathedrals, frescoes, and monumental sculptures of Europe.1 Interestingly, it was precisely this perceived lack of “history” that gave many American photographers the freedom to turn to their own cultural strengths—Puritan simplicity, mechanical ingenuity, and the building materials of an industrial society—into the basis of their approach. The adventurous American photographers said goodbye to the moody, soft, moist air style of pictorialism in favor of a harder and more direct approach. It almost seemed as if the spiritual quality of light

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precedent for American leadership of photographic education in the twentieth century. Paul Outerbridge (1896–1958), a White School alumnus, influenced the commercial field by  combining the new “direct” aesthetic and the celebration of technologically derived objects, like an automotive camshaft, as heroic subject matter. Inspired by Strand’s Akeley movie camera series, Outerbridge photographed machine parts as if they were sculptures, converting the ordinary into the remarkable. His work unfolded from the belief that to appreciate photography one must dissociate it from other forms of art expression. Instead of holding a preconceived idea of art, founded on painting, it must be considered as a distinct medium of expression—a medium capable of doing certain things which can be accomplished no other way.3

In 1925 the Royal Photographic Society invited Outerbridge to exhibit in London. This led him to move to Paris, where he became friends with Marcel Duchamp, Man Ray, and Berenice Abbott, and began working with French Vogue and Edward Steichen, establishing a top-notch photography studio. In 1929 he returned to New York, where he founded an influential commercial and art photography studio. Simultaneously, he began experimenting with color photography, utilizing the intricate tricolor carbro process. In 1937 his work was included in a Museum of Modern Art exhibit and in 1940 he published his germinal book, Photographing in Color. It showcased his startling, graphic compositions and dramatic use of color, anticipating the direction of future photographers who endeavored to advance an analogous, bold new color vocabulary. Ralph Steiner’s (1899–1986) close-up of typewriter keys applied Arthur Dow’s ideas about controlling highlights and shadows to accentuate the abstract harmony within his vernacular subject matter, providing these pictorial attributes with a spiritual base in fact. After completing her studies

PAUL OUTERBRIDGE. Images de Deauville, 1936. 15¾ × 12¼ inches. Tri-color carbro print. During the 1930s, Outerbridge was regarded as one of the world’s finest color printers for his control of the expensive and laborious carbro process, which could produce extraordinary color. The title of this still life, which refers to the French seaside gambling resort of Deauville, is an impressive surrealistic display of skill and modern stylistic references. As a prominent member of the international avant-garde from the mid-1920s through the mid-1940s Outerbridge was an advocate of modern art. This composition references his fascination with the clean, sharp design concepts of the Machine Age as well as cubist-inspired ideas of space and time that encompass a belief in the emancipating power of their innovative aesthetic forms. © Estate of Paul Outerbridge, Jr. COURTESY

Ray Hawkins Gallery, Beverly Hills, CA.

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MARGARET BOURKE-WHITE. World’s Highest Standard of Living 1937. Dimensions variable. This photograph poignantly presents a queue of Black residents of Louisville, Kentucky standing in front of a billboard of a mythical all American white family as they wait for relief supplies as a result of the devasting flooding of the Ohio River. The image first appeared in Life Magazine’s February 1937 issue. © COURTESY Margaret Bourke-White Estate/Time-Life/Licensed by VAGA, New York, NY.

with White, Laura Gilpin (1891–1979) returned to the Southwest and opened a commercial portrait studio. There she continued to emphasize Dow’s design principles and the unity of geometric patterns in her recordings of indigenous American cultures. Gilpin’s images often integrated native architectural forms within the landscape. Margaret Bourke-White  (1904–1971), a stu­ dent of Clarence White at Columbia University, emerged in the late 1920s with an industrial series on Ohio’s Otis Steel Mills, a company whose products went directly into the making of

automobiles and skyscrapers. This work, especially the active interior views, came to the notice of Henry Luce, who hired Bourke-White for his new publication, Fortune (1930). Luce recognized that BourkeWhite’s choice of subjects echoed his magazine’s editorial interest in finance and technology and later hired her as one of Life magazine’s four original staff photographers. Her photograph of Montana’s monumental Fort Peck Dam was the cover of Life’s debut issue in November 1936. Bourke-White broke ground throughout her career not only as being the pioneering woman photographer to accomplish

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an array of firsts, but as the first photographer to cover an array of historic events. In 1930, she was the first Western photographer officially allowed to photograph in the USSR. She was America’s first accredited woman photographer in WWII, and the first authorized to fly on combat missions. She was one of the first of the photographers to document

the horrors of Nazi concentration camps after their liberation in the spring of 1945. She was also the last person to photograph and interview Mohandas Gandhi before he was assassinated in 1948.

ALFRED STIEGLITZ ’S “ EQUIVALENTS ” After a decade of facilitating the work of others,  Alfred Stieglitz  (1864–1946) returned to imagemaking. In 1918, he embarked on a decade-long, cumulative psychological portrait series of his wife-to-be, painter Georgia O’Keeffe (1887– 1986). The intimate-sized contact prints portray O’Keeffe abstractly, heroically, and personally. This extended portrait is a collaboration, an emotional and intellectual dialogue that challenged, enriched, and melded the ambitions, drives, and talents of both artists. In 1922, Stieglitz continued to explore this inner psychological theme, but he returned one last time to nature and symbolist theory and isolated the sky as a surrogate heart. Excluding all traces of land, clouds became Stieglitz’s abstract, metaphoric equations of his emotions and transcendent states, a personal testament that the universe is a comprehensible component of the self. The “Equivalents” demonstrated Stieglitz’s representational power to recast the everyday with spiritual significance in the midst of the post-World War I atmosphere of depression and nihilism. He desired an equivalent world that could extend an aesthetic sensibility to any subject, regardless of its external context and/or use in daily life. This stance freed his subject matter from literal interpretation and allowed his images to take on a much larger mental posture that no longer relied on the physical attributes of the picture. Concurrently, the “Equivalents” reconstruct the childlike experience of lying in the grass on a warm summer afternoon while examining the clouds that glide

© ALFRED STIEGLITZ. Equivalent, 1927. 4 5⁄8 × 3 5⁄8 inches. Gelatin silver print. Stieglitz started pointing his camera skyward in 1922 and continued to do so to about 1934. His images of ephemeral clouds were his way of expressing his own fleeting emotional states that portrays the dynamic modern world in a constant state of flux. Originally Stieglitz titled these work Songs of the Sky, but later retitled them to “equivalents of my most profound life experience.” The series focuses on design elements of harmony, proportion, and rhythm, presenting abstract visual forms as configuration for the eye. Most importantly they demonstrate that the content of a photograph can be different from its subject matter. COURTESY

The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles, CA.

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© ALFRED STIEGLITZ. From the Shelton, 1931–1932. 9½ × 7½ inches. Gelatin silver print. Stieglitz photographed views of New York’s changing skyline from the windows of the apartment he shared with Georgia O’Keeffe on the thirtieth floor of the Shelton Hotel in the modern “straight” style. Busy street scenes are replaced by the unemotional, industrial forms of steel-frame skyscrapers. His careful compositions, emphasizing the geometric forms of the city, silently accentuate the noisy fragmentation of modern urban life. COURTESY

The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles, CA.

overhead for their enchanted and wondrous forms. In such moments, one’s eyes function as a camera; squinting and opening and closing one eye and then the other alters the view, spurring the imagination to explore fairy tale-like fantasy characters and scenarios.

During the 1920s, Stieglitz responded to the culture of the machine by making pictures from his Manhattan apartment window of the new steel skyscrapers arising amid the old brownstones. The post-World War I building boom thrust the skyscraper into the American topography

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and psyche as its image proliferated throughout the arts. Stieglitz recognized the social price attached to the skyscraper mania, and his images juxtaposed symbols of progress with their accompanying alienation. Human scale lost its significance among the long black shadows cast by the shiny techno-mega-structures that crowded out the past. As he aged, Stieglitz lost interest in spreading his ideas via the graphic arts and was

increasingly concerned with presenting his cabalistic conclusions about modernistic art and photography in a majestic, patrician manner. To that end, he remained active as a New York City impresario, promoting modern painters and a few photographers at the Anderson Galleries (1917– 1925), before operating the Intimate Gallery (1925–1929), and then An American Place until his death in 1946.

STEICHEN GOES COMMERCIAL In 1911, the year following the International Exhibition of Pictorial Photography  in Buffalo, New York, Edward Steichen (1879–1973) made his first fashion photographs, applying his artistic precepts to commercial photography. This led to his falling out with Stieglitz. Never having to earn a living through his photography, Stieglitz had complex and unrealistic attitudes about the activities that artists could do for money without selling their artistic souls to the devil. During World War I, Steichen commanded the photographic division of the Army Expeditionary Forces in charge of aerial photography. Discovering beauty in these high-definition pictures led Steichen to reject his earlier soft-focus gum prints and burn his paintings, a recognition that the world had changed. To reinvent himself, he devised visual exercises, such as lighting and photographing a white tea cup on a black background a thousand different ways. Steichen became chief photographer for Condé Nast Publications in 1923, translating his newly learned visual data onto the printed pages of popular magazines, which strongly influenced the fashionable authority they wanted to project.

EDWARD STEICHEN. Paul Robeson, 1933. 7 7⁄8 × 7½ inches. Photogravure. Publishing regularly in Vogue and Vanity Fair for fifteen years, Steichen introduced the notion of Modernism to a cosmopolitan audience interested in fashionably adorning itself. His product photographs and his celebrity portraits of Charlie Chaplin, Greta Garbo, and Gloria Swanson, among others, brought out the personality of each item for consumption or subject within the confines of a precisely designed and lit set. Steichen made this portrait of actor Paul Robeson in costume as Brutus Jones in Eugene O’Neill’s The Emperor Jones, which was featured in Vanity Fair a month before the film version appeared. COURTESY  © 2024 The Estate of Edward Steichen/Artists Rights Society (ARS),

New York, NY.

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FORM AS ESSENCE

photography is through realism—and its most difficult approach.5

Edward Henry Weston (1886–1958) received his first camera in 1902 and by 1906 was working as a door-to-door photographer. After attending the Illinois College of Photography, Weston ran a successful portrait studio in Glendale, CA, from 1911 to 1922, where he was known for his soft-focus, pictorial-style images. During this period, under the influence of his studio partner, Margrethe Mather (1885–1952), and his apprentice and friend, Johan Hagemeyer (1884–1962), Weston awakened to the modernist directions in art and reevaluated his own work. In 1922, Weston traveled to New York to meet the leaders of the modernist photography movement, Alfred Stieglitz, Paul Strand, Charles Sheeler, and Clarence White. On this journey Weston stopped in Ohio to photograph the American Rolling Mill (Armco) steelworks. These precise, straightforward images honor industrial architecture and technology while displaying Weston’s ability to visually sort complex subjects into simplified semi-abstract forms, marking a distinctive break with his pictorial origins. In 1923, Weston moved to Mexico City and opened a studio with his lover and apprentice, Tina Modotti (1896–1942; see Chapter 12 for more on Modotti). Through Modotti, Weston became acquainted with members of the Mexican Renaissance, such as the mural painter Diego Rivera (1886–1957), whose dynamic social and political frescoes flourished heroic in scope. During this period of self-analysis Weston began his  Daybooks,4 notebooks in which for the next twenty years he detailed his artistic struggles, emotional anxieties, and financial dilemmas. He wrote:

Weston’s work was about what lies beyond the subject and its form. For Weston, “the thing itself ” did not mean the recording of objects in front of the camera, but a search for what the popular philosopher Henri Bergson called “life force,” the pure essence of existence.6  Hence Weston wrote of the “seeing of parts—fragments—as universal symbols”7  that are interchangeable. Through this transformative process of reducing the subject to its fundamental structure, Weston worked to reunite rational thought and subjective feeling. The ground glass became a site for harmonizing the technology and science of photography with a spiritual quest for knowledge of nature’s most basic extract—the underlying unity of life forms. To obtain this Bergsonian vision, Weston changed his approach to make his method one with his aesthetic through his concept of  previsualization, the ability to see one’s finished print on the ground glass in all its desired qualities and values before exposure.8 To achieve explicitness of form, Weston put aside his soft-focus lens for a sharp focusing Rapid-Rectilinear. “The shutter stops down to 256 [the modern equivalent is f/64]; this should satisfy my craving for more depth of focus,”9 he wrote. He began giving up the soft, subtle tonal range of the platinum paper for the sharper, more punchy tones of gelatin silver paper. As Weston’s compositions grew tightly controlled, eliminating nonessentials, he repudiated the fashionable studio portrait to prove the unimportance of subject matter. He also simplified his darkroom, rejecting enlargements and using only a light bulb to make detail-packed contact prints from his large format negatives. For two weeks in his Mexican  casita, Weston studied and photographed a toilet bowl, turning the modernist axiom of “form follows function” inside out by removing the form from its function and comparing it to a smooth-flowing, sensual shape.

the camera should be used for a recording of life, for rendering the very substance and quintessence of the thing itself whether it be polished steel or palpitating flesh… I feel definite in my belief that the approach to

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EDWARD WESTON. Pepper #30, 1930. 9 3⁄8 × 7½ inches. Gelatin silver print. “Life is a coherent whole: rocks, clouds, trees, shells, torsos, smokestacks, peppers, are interrelated, interdependent parts of the whole. Rhythms from one become symbols of all. The creative force in man feels and records these rhythms, these forms, with the medium most suitable to him.”10 © 2024 Center for Creative Photography, Arizona Board of Regents/Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York, NY.

In 1927, Weston moved to Carmel, CA, where he applied his lessons in abstraction to making close-up images of organic objects. Fruits and vegetables were carefully isolated in a wash basin, photographed in natural light, and then eaten, satisfying Weston’s physical and metaphysical hungers. Later Weston applied the same abstract approach within the landscape, altering and disguising scale so that organic matter turned into architectural form. By the early

1940s, Weston reversed the process so that industrial sites could be viewed as organic shapes. In 1937 Weston became the first photographer to receive a John Guggenheim Memorial Foundation Fellowship, repeating this achievement the following year. This eased his financial stress and led to the publication of California and the West (1940).11 The Guggenheim Fellowship gave Weston freedom and time to apply to the Western landscape what he

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had learned about reducing a subject to its essential form. The result can be seen in his meditative desert sand dune images where the vastness of the landscape overwhelms human scale and emptiness is everything. The sensual, textural beauty of the dunes supplants the human figure and the earth itself is presented as a nude. Weston accentuated the minimalism of the scene to reveal the spiritual essence within its apparent nothingness. Often working with his son Brett Weston (1911–1993), Weston’s last Point Lobos, CA, images, made with spare, pristine working methods, give concrete form to his belief that “one must feel definitely, fully, before the exposure.”12

he became the Sierra Club’s official trip photographer and in 1934 he was elected to the club’s board of directors, a position he held for thirty-seven years. The public came to see his images as the absolute pictorial testimony of the American Western landscape, a site of inspiration and redemptive power that must be preserved. Adams’s visual understanding came from being in tune with the changing nature of light and how it moves within the landscape. To be able to record the visual sensations of a specific quality of light, at a precise location, and at an exact moment, Adams, with the help of Fred Archer (1889–1963), developed the Zone System in the late 1930s. The Zone System takes the conceptual basis of Group f/64 and gives photographers a practical, yet scientifically grounded, method to implement their vision by controlling exposure, development, and printing, incisively translating detail, scale, texture, and tone into the final image. A zone represents the relationship of a subject’s brightness to its density in the negative and the corresponding tone in the final print. Adams took the gray scale of a full-tone blackand-white print and refined it into eleven different zones, from Zone 0, maximum black, to Zone X, pure white. Adams identified the zones with Roman numerals to avoid confusion with other numerical combinations used in photography. Each zone is the equivalent to one f/stop difference in subject brightness and negative exposure. The zone system is designed to eliminate guesswork and give photographers repeatable control over their materials so that the outcome can be predicted (that is, previsualized). Through Adams’s writing, publications, and workshops, the Zone System became so popular with serious imagemakers for its ability to scientifically offer artistic control of the photographic process that it eclipsed other forms of serious-minded printmakers. As with any method, the Zone System has been abused by the unthinking, who turned it into aesthetic dogma, which was never Adams’s intent. Images like Mt. Williamson from Manzanar,

MODERNISTIC PHOTO GRAPHY Group f/64 (1932–1935), founded in Oakland, CA, consisted of a loose band of seven photographers—Edward Weston, Ansel Adams, Imogen Cunningham, Willard Van Dyke (1906–1986), Sonya Noskowiak (1900–1975), John Paul Edwards (1883–1968), and Henry Swift (1890–1960)— who promoted straight, modernistic photography. With their aesthetic stance based in Precisionism, they named themselves after the smallest aperture on the camera lens, expressing their allegiance to sharply focused images printed on glossy gelatin silver papers without any signs of pictorial “handwork” and mounted on white board.  Favoring natural forms and found objects, they offered an alternative to Stieglitz’s bias against the naturalistic West Coast artists and the California pictorialist style. In the 1920s,  Ansel Adams  (1902–1984) split his time between taking photographs around what is now Yosemite National Park and playing music, but after seeing some of Paul Strand’s negatives he decided to devote himself to photography. In 1928,

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ANSEL ADAMS. Mt. Williamson from Manzanar, California, 1944. 7½ × 9 7⁄8 inches. Gelatin silver print. Writing about this photograph to Alfred Stieglitz, Adams stated, “As the war moves to a climax, the only enduring things seem to be the aspect of Nature— and its reciprocal, the creative spirit.”13 Adams believed that photography was about interaction. He often compared the negative to a musical score and the print to its performance. It was Adams’s view that: “The picture we make is never made for us alone; it is, and should be a communication—to reach as many people as possible without dilution of quality or intensity… To the complaint ‘There are no people in these photographs,’ I respond, There are always two people, the photographer and the viewer.”14 COURTESY  © 2016 Ansel Adams Publishing Rights Trust/Collection Center for Creative Photography, University of Arizona.

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California, reveal how Adams’s interpretations fused seemingly competing concerns. The foreground and background are razor sharp and utterly still while the middle ground acts as a passageway between the two. Shadows compete with highlights. The image uses photography not to report, but to interpret and recite silvery poetry that is accessible without pandering. The view is mythological, conveying a sense of optimism about the open Western space that suggests there are still uncovered possibilities in America and our society can push on into the future. These transcendental qualities allow the work to escape the “thingness” that can be stifling and instead evoke a sense of essence about a place. By the 1960s, the accessibility of Adams’s images, the respect for his technical brilliance, and the ability of his work to command higher prices, helped photography gain entrance into a broader range of arenas, including mass media, galleries, and museums.15 Imogen Cunningham  (1883–1976) took up photography in 1901 after seeing the work of Gertrude Käsebier. By 1910 she had opened her own studio. As with the other members of Group f/64, Cunningham began as a romantic pictorialist who took up Modernism with the zeal of a convert. Her allegiance was clearly with Group f/64’s credo that the “greatest aesthetic beauty, the fullest power of expression, the real worth of the medium lies in its pure form rather than in its superficial modifications.”16  The changes in Cunningham’s work, from soft-focus pictorialism to sharply focused, geometric compositions, parallel the economic collapse that led Modernism into the documentary realism of the 1930s. As the fascination with technology was replaced by the immediate need to find solutions to Depression-era social problems, questions about the proper function of art and the correct use of materials supplanted disputes over style, and abstraction gave way to straight descriptions of everyday culture. The antithesis of Group f/64’s philosophy can be seen in  William Mortensen’s (1897–1965) prolific output of melodramatic and sexually

IMOGEN CUNNINGHAM. Calla, circa 1925. 11 × 9½ inches. Gelatin silver print. While caring for her young children, Cunningham condensed her domestic landscape into still life. Her tightly rendered plant studies present nature with machine precision or as sexual allusion, drawing sensual parallels to the female form that she explored during her long career. Although the picture is a faithful rendering of a plant, Cunningham’s concern was not the subject itself but what the subject could become under special circumstances controlled by the photographer, thus expanding how it could be interpreted. © The Imogen Cunningham Trust.

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© WILLIAM MORTENSEN. The Heretic, circa 1934. 10¼ × 8¼ inches. Abrasion-tone gelatin silver print. In his essay, “Fallacies of Pure Photography,” Mortensen challenged the assumptions of Group f/64 by stating: “Purists and puritans alike have been marked by a crusading devotion to self-defined fundamentals, by a tendency to sweeping condemnation of all who over-step the boundaries they have set up, and by grim disapproval of the more pleasing and graceful things in life.”17 COURTESY  Robert Hirsch Collection.

charged tableaux, instructional books, and classes. Mortensen was the outspoken leader of the pictorialist movement in the United States during the 1930s and the founder of the William Mortensen School of Photography in Laguna Beach, California (1932). Mortensen carried on an intense debate

in camera periodicals of the 1930s with Ansel Adams over contentious principles of pictorialism vs. “straight” photography as personified by Group f/64. His work was so at odds with Group f/64’s fundamental beliefs that Ansel Adams once referred to Mortensen as the “Antichrist.” As an unjust

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consequence for his stubborn defense of more romantic theories for photography, Mortensen was essentially ostracized from most authoritative canons of photographic history—especially those authored by Adams’s good friends, Beaumont and Nancy Newhall. This policy of exclusion was continued by MoMA photography curator John Szarkowski, as evidenced in his savage book review of William Mortensen: A Revival (1998).18 Mortensen’s highly manipulated, melodramatic, and exquisitely rendered “grotesque” character studies and idealized nudes portray the darker side of human nature, which was unusual for a pictorialist.19 His sense of the fantastical can be linked to work he did for Hollywood film director Cecil B. DeMille, who was known for his showmanship productions on an epic scale, such as The Ten Commandments  (1923) and King of Kings  (1927). In work like  Monsters and Madonnas  (1936), Mortensen portrayed women under the control of male power, in male fantasies of occultism and sexual domination. His work rejected as mechanistic the doctrine of the straight print, seeing it as only one gateway for expression. Mortensen thought Group f/64’s stance was hypocritical in allowing manipulation of tonality for “emotional” effect while labeling other forms of manipulation unacceptable. As far as Mortensen was concerned,

and technical hints on lighting, models, costumes, and darkroom modifications. Today many scholars decry his work as brazenly sexist. However, other critics point out that Mortensen’s portrait style is a validated antecedent when considering the acclaimed praise and popularity of the staged images of Cindy Sherman and Yasumasa Morimura. Additionally, his highly self-expressive work can be seen as a forerunner of the handmade movement of the 1960s as his wide-ranging methodology was open to many types of visual possibilities.

FILM UND FOTO AND NEW OBJECTIVITY Europeans continued to push the boundaries of the conceptual practices of photography with projects like the 1929 international exhibition,  Film und Foto, organized in Stuttgart by the Deutscher Werkbund, a professional organization of artists, craftspeople, and manufacturers. At  Film und Foto, the precisionist American and the conceptually adventurous European ideas about modern photography commingled. Weston selected Cunningham’s unromantic work along with the images of Berenice Abbott, Paul Outerbridge, Edward Steichen, Charles Sheeler, and his own for the exhibition. Bauhaus master László Moholy-Nagy put together a blend of advertising, artistic, journalistic, and scientific images, disregarding their original context, to promote photography as a flexible medium of communication. To advance his ideas about light, geometric form, and space, Moholy-Nagy included his own works and those of Albert  Renger-Patzsch, Herbert Bayer, John Heartfield, Florence Henri, André Kertész, El Lissitzky, Man Ray, and Aleksandr Rodchenko.  Film und Foto  also linked the most daring film and photography of the modernist movement, screening Sergei Eisenstein’s Battleship Potemkin (1925),

If tone is granted to be subject to control, why not line, also, which has equal emotional significance? And if line, why not shapes and forms?  …  And if all these things are allowed, what becomes of the ‘record of actuality?’ … sunk without a trace.20

In this sense, Mortensen recognizes that all photographs are constructions and thus foreshadows the use of digital imaging programs. Mortensen perfected his “Metal-Chrome” (bromoil-derived) process and pattern screen methods for modifying photographic prints, as well as publishing many books on abrasive-tone monoprints

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DZIGA VERTOV. Man with a Movie Camera, 1929. Still film frame. Instead of a linear motion picture, Dziga Vertov’s (1896‒1954) fast moving, silent, montage presents urban life in the 1920s Soviet Union and Ukraine, from morning to night without titles or narration. It is a dazzling visual spectacle of cinematic invention that utilized the camera as an extension of the human body so that the eye and the machine functioned as one. The film is a master class in such visual tactics of expressing space and time as: animation, extreme close-ups, freeze frames, jump cuts, match cuts, slow, multiple exposures, reverse, and stop motion, split screens, tracking shots, and more. The spectacular cinematography was done by his brother Milhail Kaufman. Critic Roger Ebert declared: “It was about the act of seeing, being seen, preparing to see, processing what had been seen, and finally seeing it.”21 COURTESY

© VUFKU

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Dziga Vertov’s (David Abelevich Kaufman) Man With a Movie Camera  (1929), and Man Ray’s L’Etoile de Mer (1928). Albert Renger-Patzsch’s (1897–1966) Die Welt ist schön (The World Is Beautiful), 1928, exemplified the obsession for clarity and order in modernist German photography.22  The book alternated tight shots of animals, landscapes, and plants with factories and industrial equipment; no text appeared on the picture pages. The concept showed the interrelationship between natural forms and machine-made objects, demonstrating the formal structure of all things. Renger-Patzsch relied on photography to classify and order subjects from the chaotic flow of the Weimar Republic. Whether the subject was industrial or natural, Renger-Patzsch applied a narrow clinical template of unyielding visual precision that relied on photographic realism. This removed and isolated the subjects from their worldly context, converting them into meticulous scientific illustrations for viewer scrutiny. For instance, Renger-Patzsch chose a flower not for its softness or sensuality but for its sharp, repetitive features that did not invite intimacy or sentimentality. For Renger-Patzsch, photography provided a tool for natural science, encouraging viewers to ignore the individuality of the subject and see it analytically as a specimen to be categorized, labeled, and filed, and therefore known and safe to handle. Renger-Patzsch’s belief in “photographic photography,” allowing “a fragment to symbolize the whole” and the “sharpness of photographic seeing [to] conjure up the fantastic in everyday nature,”23 formed the underpinnings of Neue Sachlichkeit (New Objectivity), as straight photography was known in Germany during the 1920s. The director of Film und Foto, Gustaf Stotz, observed the effect of this quest for structural order:

ALBERT RENGER-PATZSCH. Foxglove (Fingerhut), 1922. 15 x 9 ¼ inches. Gelatin silver print.

gutters, spools of thread, fabrics, machines, etc. They interest us for their material substance, for the simple quality of the thing-in-itself; they interest us as means of creating space-form surfaces.24

The close-up became one of the main compositional devices in the New Objectivity.  Karl Blossfeldt’s (1865–1932) book  Urformen der

We see things differently now, without painterly intent in the impressionistic sense. Today things are important that earlier were hardly noticed: for example shoe lasts,

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© KARL BLOSSFELDT. Blumenbachia Hieronymi (Loasaceae), 1932. 10 3⁄16 × 8 3⁄16 inches. Gelatin silver print. Professor Karl Blossfeldt started exploring natural forms in 1890, but his images did not become known until their publication in Urformen der Kunst (Art Forms in Nature) in 1928. The Surrealist writer Georges Bataille was captivated by the hallucinatory precision and ominous sexuality of Blossfeldt’s plant photographs and used several of them to illustrate his essay on the enigmatic, “The Language of Flowers” in the first issue of his review Documents in June 1929. COURTESY

The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles, CA.

Kunst  (Art Forms in Nature, 1928; English-language edition, 1932) used macro- and microscopic photography to present the “artistic” organizing patterns in nature to his students at the Kunstgewerbeschule in Berlin. Such extreme views were intended to eliminate all atmospheric effects and

personal reactions and to reveal a subject’s basic design: “Nature is our best teacher,”25 said Blossfeldt. By enlarging discrete portions of a subject—the characteristics, details, patterns, and textures that would otherwise go unobserved by human vision or in normal-range photography—Blossfeldt made

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the imperceptible perceptible, implying that photography is our best teacher. The close-up or scaled enlargement has long been a source of essential information in the artistic, medical, scientific, and technical communities. Using the camera to enlarge and isolate the subject has been one of the most logical and scientific methods. By eliminating all nonessentials and dispensing with recreating a psychological mood or a social relationship, the close-up seems to confirm that photography and nature are so “intimately bound up as to be inseparable.”26 In his images that isolated plant forms, Blossfeldt believed that the New Objectivity revealed the connection between natural form “governed by some fixed and eternal force”27  and art. Other imagemakers explored the close-up as an ingenious way of examining ordinary subject matter and to interject private beliefs and emotions about what was in front of their camera lens. Eugène Atget  (1857–1927) turned to photography at age forty after working as a cabin boy, actor, and painter. Atget undertook a methodical photographic survey of the old quarters of Paris and its surrounding parks. Working in the tradition of Charles Marville and the Missions Héliographiques project whose purpose was to classify, protect, and restore French landmarks, Atget spent thirty years making over 10,000 photographs with an outmoded wooden view camera and tripod, often using a wide-angle lens that did not match the camera format. His method produced vignetting, a darkening of the image towards the corners in the final print. Under his hand-lettered sign, “Documents pour artistes,” Atget eked out a living selling contact prints, made from his glass-plate negatives on printing-out paper and toned with gold chloride. Seemingly resistant to change, Atget never professed belief in any artistic movement, nor was he given to technical experimentation. Atget’s savant-like accumulation of empirical observations of a pre-modern Paris is as

much about the psychological nature of time as it is an extended architectural study. His work went unnoticed until his neighbor, Man Ray, published some of his images without credit in the official surrealist journal,  La Revolution Surréaliste, in 1926.28  The surrealists, who gave themselves permission to find new meaning in a subject or discard the intended one, regarded Atget as a primitive in touch with his unconscious. For the surrealists, Atget’s storefront pictures of mannequins, window reflections, and odd juxtapositions of objects could distort time, space, and scale so that they appeared to have emerged from a dreamlike state. Atget’s poised, commonplace scenes have a disturbing sense of apprehension and of being removed from the world, a combination enabling the photographs to transcend photography’s competing views of documentation and self-expression. His body of work does not evoke a quaint sensation of the past, but provides the materials necessary to analyze the elusive attributes of time. An avid reader of nineteenth-century French literature, Atget wanted to preserve the Paris of the past by photographing buildings slated for demolition and recording in detail how the ironworks, stone, and vegetation evoked an atmospheric spirit beyond their physical description. His catalog of arcades, doorways, private gardens, public spaces, and ordinary people struggling to earn a living shows a lyrical understanding of the street and a society on the verge of extinction. The seemingly simple images convey a sense of sorrow for an irreclaimable era. Atget vetoed Man Ray’s proposal that he use a handheld Rolleiflex camera, complaining to him that “le snapshot went faster than he could think… Trop vite, enfin! Too fast.”29 He understood that the element of time built into his antiquated style of working allowed him to meditate on what lay in front of his camera. Atget’s extended study prolonged the photographic moment to reveal how time transforms a subject, even one that was considered as “timeless” as Paris itself.

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© EUGÈNE ATGET. Fête du Trône/Boutique de foire (Street Fair Booth), 1925. 6 13⁄16  x 8 7⁄8 inches. Gelatin silver print (Berenice Abbott, printer, before 1954). The carefully arranged pyramid of objects, starkly illuminated by a single bare light bulb in a sea of blackness, bring into being a three-dimensional promotion for a sideshow attraction of a giant and a midget. A shoe for each sits next to a chair for each; suspended above are photographs of the two together. Signs on either side state that admission is one franc. If the placards are truthful, Armand the Giant was seven feet ten inches tall and his associate was “the smallest man in the world.” The unexpected bizarreness of this composition appealed to the Surrealist artists Marcel Duchamp, Man Ray, and Berenice Abbott. They adopted and published Atget’s work shortly before his death, transforming its original documentary nature into pictograms that bolstered the Surrealist aesthetic. Abbott went on to champion and preserve Atget’s collection, establishing his reputation. COURTESY

The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles, CA.

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EXPERIMENTALLY MODERN The 1920s was a period of experimentation, and at the forefront, dealing with the “realm of the fantastic,” was the Bauhaus master  László Moholy-Nagy  (1895–1946). Moholy-Nagy sought a purely photographic approach independent of all previous forms of representation. He urged investigation into “the new culture of light” so that “the strongest visual experiences that could be granted to man” could be made available through its understanding and use. He wrote: “This century belongs to light. Photography is the first means of giving tangible shape to light, though in a transposed and—perhaps just for that reason—almost abstract form.”30  Unlike the precisionists, Moholy-Nagy wanted to use photography to show what the human eye alone could not see. In “Production-Reproduction,”31 he took the position that mediums primarily used for reproduction, such as photography and film, could be reduced to their most elemental level and then extended on a new, innovative course. For Moholy, “reproduction” stood for imitative or repetitive relationships. “Production” signified the new forms, such as his photograms, appropriate to the world of technology that make “new, previously unknown relationships … between the known and as yet unknown optical.” Moholy-Nagy’s practice of montage, which he  called fotoplastik,32  was based on the surrealist method of recording the unconscious, but without the surrealist attachment to the irrational. He saw his  approach as an experimentally disciplined and judicious strategy to achieve an art form that struck a balance between reason and spirit, and between people and their culture. Moholy-Nagy’s photo-montages relied on the graphic suprematist forms of the circle, cone, and spiral to create multi-perspective compositions, a schema that disturbed Renaissance perspective and its companion formulas for acquiring knowledge through images.

LÁSZLÓ MOHOLY-NAGY. The Structure of the World, 1927. 25½ × 19 3⁄8 inches. Photomechanical offset, rotogravure, pencil. COURTESY

© 2024 Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York, NY/VG Bild-

Kunst, Bonn.

His photomontages juxtaposed contrasting imagery in open compositions, with much of the surrounding space left intentionally blank. The resulting interplay of movement between the fragmented images and the stillness of the unused space applied both optical and psychological pressure on viewers to recreate the same commotion and instability they experienced in modern daily life. Moholy-Nagy and his then wife, Lucia Moholy/ Lucia Schulz (1894–1989), who was his collaborator and darkroom technician as well as a teacher

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NEW VISION

and the author of A Hundred Years of Photography, 1839–1939, experimented with these concepts beginning in 1922 by making photograms and photomontages (see Chapter 10). Like many women of that era, Lucia was often overshadowed by her male colleagues, resulting in many of her early works being attributed to her husband or to Walter Gropius, the founder and former head of the Bauhaus.33 Later, she became known for documenting the architectural spaces and people of the Bauhaus including numerous portraits of the women who partook in or bolstered the Bauhaus’s endeavors, thus helping to form its public visual identity.

Much of what is called  New Vision  or Bauhaus photography, based on the aesthetic possibilities of geometric form, is discussed in Moholy-Nagy’s  Malerei, Fotografie, Film  (Painting, Photography, Film, 1925). New Vision reflected the aesthetic possibilities of geometric forms as it related to architecture and the machine.34 In straight photography it was characterized by polymath Herbert Bayer’s (1900–1985) use of geometric compositions, the close-up, the oblique points of view, the inclusion of reflective surfaces to alter perspective, and the handheld camera to cover sports events and capture action scenes. It permitted any type of optical manipulation of light, making the medium

HERBERT BAYER. Untitled, circa 1930s. 9 × 12 13⁄16 inches. Gelatin silver print. Herbert Bayer was a graphic designer, painter, photographer, sculptor, architect ,and landscape designer who trained at the Bauhaus with Moholy-Nagy, and who incorporated photographs into his work. Bayer constructed highly geometric studio compositions with a deep sense of surrealistic, plastic (three-dimensional) space, rather than linear (two-dimensional) space. They reference Moholy-Nagy’s idea of fotoplastik with a distinctive combination of make-believe and realism. COURTESY

© 2024 Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York, NY/VG Bild-Kunst, Bonn.

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Florence Henri  (1893–1982) studied with Moholy-Nagy and the painter Fernand Léger, and doubtless had seen Léger’s film,  Les Ballets mécaniques  (1923–1924), which used light and mirrors to distort, fragment, and multiply images. Henri masterfully blended Moholy-Nagy’s and Léger’s approaches to formulate a geometric, multiplaned, semi-abstract vision founded on the dematerialization of light. Henri’s command of mirrors, prisms, and reflective objects enabled her to manipulate her subjects, often perplexing the viewer’s ability to perceive the difference between reality and reflection. The overlapping, fluidly spatial reflections and refractions became enigmatic and made their interpretation ambiguous. On the verso (backside) of Composition No. 12, a cataloguer positioned it as a vertical, though here it is reproduced as a horizontal. Former George Eastman Museum print archivist David Wooters acknowledged Henri’s invitation to interpret the work’s position with his comment: “Let the bottom find itself.” 37

its own subject. Its underlying premise was  that images made by photography must look photographic. During the 1920s this mode of working, without its conceptual base, spread rapidly after being co-opted by German commercial advertising, marketing, and the popular press. Bayer became intrigued by dream imagery and in 1931 adopted photomontage as a method to visualize the psychological aspects of modern life and the reveries of his own dreams. Moholy-Nagy’s straight photography favored non-eye-level points of view to duplicate the constructivist antiperspective, compositional structure. Moholy-Nagy also incorporated Theo Van Doesburg’s painting theory of “counter-composition,” designed to mitigate the abstract purity of  De Stijl35 compositions, such as those of Piet Mondrian, by rotating his camera and even making double exposures to achieve a counter-composition that was less rigid and more active. He also made regular use of negative prints, and would juxtapose two images to create an energetic and varied reading of a subject. After Hitler closed the Bauhaus in 1933, Moholy-Nagy eventually settled in Chicago, where he became the director of the New Bauhaus in 1937. Founded by local businessmen and modeled on the principles of its namesake, the school opened that fall in the midst of the Great Depression. It closed after only a year, but in February 1939 Moholy-Nagy opened his own institution, the School of Design in Chicago, which was reorganized as the Institute of Design in 1944. Students of this institution were taught to adventurously investigate Moholy-Nagy’s idea that “a knowledge of photography is just as important as that of the alphabet” and “the illiterate of the future will be ignorant of the uses of camera and pen alike.”36  These beliefs were disseminated through American photography and by other educators, including Harry Callahan, Aaron Siskind, and their students, who continued and expanded Moholy-Nagy’s teachings.

© FLORENCE HENRI. Composition No. 12, circa 1929. 9 3⁄16  × 14¾ inches. Gelatin silver print. This image embodied what Moholy-Nagy called a “new space, which was to be produced through the relations of the elemental material of visual expression—a new space created with light directly… The surface becomes a part of the atmospheric background; it sucks up light phenomena produced outside of itself—a vivid contrast to the classical conception of the picture, the illusion of an open window … it represents the mastery of the surface, not for atmospheric, but for plastic spatial ends.”38 COURTESY  Galleria Martini & Ronchetti, Genoa, Italy.

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© GYÖRGY KEPES. Juliet in Camouflage Jungle, 1942. 7 5⁄8 x 5 7⁄16 inches. Gelatin silver print. Permission of György Kepes Estate. COURTESY  George Eastman Museum, Rochester, NY.

György Kepes  (1906–2001), a close associate of Moholy-Nagy who became the head of the light department at the New Bauhaus, proclaimed he was not a photographer but an artist “committed to working with light.”39 An avid experimenter, Kepes (pronounced KEP-ish) juxtaposed fragmented light spaces with structured rhythmic patterns of geometric shapes to create visual opposition. This use of opposites, natural forms in a dreamlike field of geometric shapes, became metaphors of alternating natural and technological realities. Kepes used “to read nature, to learn about nature, and to create patterns which reveal nature.”40  These concepts were laid out in his book Language of Vision (1944), which analyzes the effect of visual language on

human consciousness, especially how the elements of line and form are perceived and how innovative kinds of perspective can produce more dynamic pictorial depictions. Kepes went on to found the Center for Advanced Visual Studies at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, which was dedicated to creative collaboration between artists and scientists. In response to the teaching of Kepes, Carlotta Corpron (1901–1988) embarked on a series of studies utilizing the properties of light, rather than the object, to produce images. Corpron researched light drawings, solarization, and superimposing negatives in the enlarger. She distorted, refracted, and reflected light on the surfaces of various objects, such as eggs and shells, using mirrors, prisms,

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© CARLOT TA CORPRON. Eggs Encircled, 1948. 10 x 8 inches. Gelatin silver print. By investigating and modulating light and its effects to the point of abstraction, Corpron established her own photographic language. Corpron spent the majority of her academic career teaching at Texas Woman’s University in Denton (1935–1968). There she started one of the earliest “creative photography” courses (1936) that was grounded in experimental exploration of the medium, bolstering her stance that she “was liberated long before the women’s movement.” COURTESY

Jerry Bywaters Special Collections, Hamon Arts Library, Southern Methodist University, Dallas, TX.

paper cut-out, cubes of glass, and Venetian blinds to modify the light. Kepes referred to her work as “light poetry,” while Corpron chose to be identified as a “designer of light.” Lotte ( Johanna Alexandra) Jacobi (1896–1990) “was born to photography” as her great-grandfather

(who had studied with Daguerre), grandfather, father, uncles, aunts, and sister were all photographers. At age twelve she began taking photographs with a self-made pinhole camera and assisting her father in the family portrait studio darkroom. Jacobi went on to become a successful portrait maker of

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© LOT TE JACOBI. Head of the Dancer, 1929. 10½ x 13 inches. Platinum print.

PATHWAYS OF LIGHT: TIME, SPACE, AND FORM

Berlin’s major cultural personalities who was stylistically influenced by Stieglitz and Renger-Patzsch. Her skills led Nazi officials to offer to make her an honorary Aryan. She refused and fled Berlin for New York in 1935 where she established a new studio, losing most of her early work in the emigration process. In New York she made intimate, revealing portraits of celebrated subjects including Albert Einstein, Robert Frost, Eleanor Roosevelt, J. D. Salinger, and Alfred Stieglitz. In the 1950s, she changed direction and started making cameraless “photogenic drawings”;41 by utilizing twisted cellophane, glass, and pieces of objects, she directed flashlight beams positioned above a piece of photographic paper to make the exposure.

Barbara Morgan  (1900–1992) combined camera and cameraless images into the same composition, using what Moholy-Nagy referred to as “automatic photomontage.” Her multiple exposures, exposing one frame two or more times to make a single image, conveyed the complexity of energy, time, and human psychology. Against a black vacuum of nothingness, as in Pure Energy and Neurotic Man, Morgan presented an anxious hand, tentatively frozen in the act of deciding whether to reach toward, or pull away from, a light force. Morgan’s cinematic use of space and time may symbolize an interior dream/thought process. In turn, this encouraged what Moholy-Nagy referred to as mirroring, sharpening the

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© BARBARA MORGAN. Pure Energy and Neurotic Man, 1941/1971. 19¾ × 15¼ inches. Gelatin silver print. COURTESY  Barbara and Willard Morgan photographs and papers, Library Special

Collections, Charles E. Young Research Library, UCLA.

František Drtikol  (1883–1961) was a Czech pictorialist, grounded in the ideas of Symbolism and  Jugendstil  (German art nouveau), who in the 1920s incorporated modernist ideas about geometric form, light, and space into studies of the female nude. In 1922, he developed the halftone photolithography process, a combination of oil printing and lithography.43 In his Salome-themed nudes, the female body is not individualized but is presented as form and space, integrating the settings and themes of Art Deco, Cubism,

identification of the inside and outside penetrations, to take place. With this instrument of thought many other phenomena (dreams for example) can be explained as space-time articulations. In dreams there is a characteristic blending of independent events into a coherent whole. Superimposition of photographs, as seen in motion pictures, can be used as the visual representational form of dreams, and in this way, as a space-time synonym.42

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FRANTIŠEK DRTIKOL. Composition, 1929. 8 5⁄8 x 11 5⁄16 inches. Pigment print. COURTESY  © 2024 Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York, NY/VG Bild-Kunst, Bonn.

Francis Joseph Bruguière (1879–1945) studied photography with American pictorialist Frank Eugene and experimented with multiple exposures and printing techniques as early as 1912. Throughout the 1920s, Bruguière made formally abstract photographs, whose principal subject matter was light, by photographing cut and shaped paper designs. These “designs in abstract forms of light”44  were his way of “apprehending light as an active symbol of consciousness.”45 In the early 1930s, Bruguière inserted elusive figurative components into these experiments, which can be seen in the book Few Are Chosen (1931). The intricate interplay

Expressionism, and Symbolism. The expressionistic shadows become as predominant as the subject itself, providing visual depth, emotional weight, and sensuous mystery in a theatrical setting that celebrated his fascination with the nude. In the early 1930s, before giving up photography, Drtikol replaced live models with plywood figures, marking a shift toward the abstract. His work and teaching influenced other Czech photographers including Josef Sudek (1896–1976) and Jaromír Funke (1896–1945), whose still-life compositions emphasize abstraction in concert with light and heavy shadow.

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© FRANCIS JOSEPH BRUGUIÈRE. Woman on Phone, circa 1936/40. 7 7⁄16 × 9 7⁄16 inches. Gelatin silver print. In this compound composition, Bruguière evokes a sensory perception that a photograph can only imitate but not actually depict. This both unites two sensory perceptions, sight and sound, while offering a path to thinking about sound without auditory input. It also hints at the intense nineteenth-century scientific engagement in reproducing fleeting audio and visual experiences that led to motion pictures being combined with acoustic recording. COURTESY  George Eastman Museum, Rochester, NY.

of light and shadow produce a visual counterpoint to each other, giving the work kinetic and sculptural attributes. By moving his light source during the exposure to make overlapping shadows, Bruguière’s tonally lavish prints take on surreal attributes: the viewer knows such shadows do not occur in nature but may exist in a dream. This sense of multidirectional light is also evident in clichés-verres he did during this period. In the later 1930s, Bruguière combined cut paper, multiple exposures, and solarization with a figurative element in a dynamic

geometric composition, Woman on the Phone (circa 1936–1940). The photograph has a sense of movement and a disquieting energy in a static situation. The solarization results in a surrealistic glimpse of both the exterior and interior realities of the subject. His use of multiple exposure lets objects take on a dualistic existence, making it appear as if viewers can look in and look out at the subject simultaneously, bridging the Bauhaus concern with the pathways of light and the surrealistic drive to connect the conscious and unconscious mind.

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SURREALISTIC THEMES

association. From this belief the Surrealist Hans Bellmer (1902–1975) used violently and sexually taboo imagery, conceivably to symbolize what he saw: a degenerating German society that put the Nazis in control of Germany’s government. Moreover, dolls and mannequins became surrealist fetishes of male sexual desire. Bellmer fabricated a doll, the size of an adolescent girl, held together by ball joints so that its head, breasts, and limbs could be moved, and rearranged it to make ambiguously erotic and jarring tableaux. The doll appeared in a variety of locations, wearing wigs and little attire, except for shoes, stockings, or a flimsy top, creating a pornographic environment. The doll appears to have been physically abused, eliciting a sympathetic yet voyeuristic response that both attracts and repels. Bellmer hand-colored these photographs to bolster their menacing nature. Later, Bellmer made a second doll with a central ball joint that enabled him to compose anatomically impossible configurations of doubled body halves, such as a torso with legs at both ends. Here the body began a prison of dissonance and futility, straining to break free from its own human limits. Many of these synthetically colored images were published in  Les Jeux de la poupée  (The Games of the Doll), 1935–1936, his limited-edition artist’s book.47 Around 1919 French photographer, performance artist, and writer Lucy Renee Mathilde Schwob changed her name to Claude Cahun (1894–1954) and began creating staged self-portraits and tableaux that defied socially accepted notions about beauty, gender, and identity. In the early 1920s, Cahun settled in Paris with her lifelong partner and step-sibling Suzanne Malherbe (1892–1972), who adopted the name Marcel Moore. Here the two began collaborating on photographic-based works, sculptures, and written projects. In her androgynous, ever-changing compendium of self-portraits, Cahun surrealistically portrayed herself as a dandy, model, nymph, soldier, and with a shaved head. Although her photographs do not appear aesthetically daring,

During this same era, surrealist artists took yet another approach to defining Modernism, announcing that anything could be art if it was observed as art. According to the Surrealists, the definition of reality itself was the question that must be answered; photography confirmed that the world was not what it appeared to be. For the Surrealists, photography became a witness that gave faithful but conflicting testimonies. One version adhered to the external facts while the other presented a construct of the mind based on a viewing of the facts.46 In a surreal context, photographs could stop being quotations and could act as conduits for free

HANS BELLMER. The Doll, circa 1934. 5¾ x 5 7⁄16 inches. Gelatin silver print with applied color. Bellmer’s doll images undermined the nostalgic Nazi vision of blissful Aryan youth, faithful to family and nation. Bellmer’s surrealistic representation of an interior rather than an exterior view made visible the concealed terrors of human sexual obsessions and proclivities beyond the scope of public vision. COURTESY  © 2024 Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York, NY/ADAGP, Paris.

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their straightforwardness plays off of our attachment to the idea that what a photograph depicts is true. This makes her images even more otherworldly. Cahun’s chameleon-like representations, in which it can be difficult to determine the persona’s gender, challenged the surrealistic good-old-boys club that considered women as muses or erotic symbols. By visualizing multiple gender possibilities, Cahun concludes that identity can be malleable. In 1937, the couple moved to the island of Jersey in the English Channel, which was later occupied by the Nazis during World War II. In 1944, due to their artistic and political resistance activities, plus Cahun’s Jewish heritage, the Germans arrested Cahun and sentenced her to death. Although the sentence was not carried out, her health never recovered from her brutal treatment while in German captivity. After the war Cahun’s work fell into obscurity until the 1990s when her disconcerting, gender-bending, role-playing images were recognized as precursors of Cindy Sherman and Nan Goldin. Madame Yevonde (1893–1975) was an English photographer who pioneered color portrait photography before it was thought of as a meaningful medium. Yevonde (Yevonde Philone Middleton (née Cumbers)) was a determined young woman who joined the women’s suffrage movement in 1910. After seeing an advertisement in The Suffragette, she decided to become a photographer’s apprentice who went on to establish her own studio in 1914. In 1921 Yevonde became the first woman to address the congress of the Professional Photographers’ Association, where she initiated controversy in the male-dominated group by asserting women’s superior abilities as portraitists with her talk: “Portraiture from a Women’s Point of View.” She began working in color in the early 1930s and continued until 1940 when the factory making the Vivex materials she favored closed down (see Chapter 8). During this period, operating under the motto “be original or die,” Yevonde made a mischievous series of society women who role played as Greek

© CLAUDE CAHUN. I Am in Training Do Not Kiss Me, 1927. 4 5⁄8 × 2½ inches. Gelatin silver print. Cahun’s self-portraits are a radical expression of the re-examination of female identity and gender in the 1930s. Surrealists, such as André Breton, appreciated her idiosyncratic positioning of herself as an androgynous and/or transsexual individual. COURTESY  Jersey Heritage Trust, Cahun and Moore Collection.

and Roman goddesses who were lavishly staged in surreal tableaux featuring items such as a bull, a pistol, an owl, and a snake. Her first color show took place in 1932 at the Albany Gallery in London, and may have been the first in England to include color works. At the age of fourteen, Georges Hugnet (1906– 1974) met Jean Cocteau, Marcel Duchamp, Max Ernst, and Pablo Picasso and began writing poetry and making artists’ books. His early work examines characteristic surrealist topics of sexual violence and

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© MADAME YEVONDE. Mrs Mayer as Medusa, from the series Goddesses, 1935. 14.25 x 11.7 inches. Vivex print. COURTESY

The Royal Photographic Society Collection at the Victoria & Albert Museum, London.

unorthodox sexual practices. Hugnet (pronounced OON-yay) combined found images and text to evoke a narrative sense, but maintained an air of mystery that keeps viewers from obtaining enough clues to know what is being conveyed. Hugnet’s La septième face du dé, Poèmes—découpages (The Seventh Side of the Die, Poems and Cut-out montages) (1936) is a ninety-page offset printing work of twenty chapters. The title echoes French symbolist poet Stéphane Mallarmé’s Un coup de dés jamais n’abolira le hasard   (A Throw of the Dice will Never Abolish

Chance) (1895), which combines free verse and unusual typographic layout whose cover Duchamp helped design. Each unconventionally laid-out page features poetry in a multitude of typefaces with some small, appropriated images against a montage of found images and text. The merging of images and text produces a suggestive serial narrative that contemplates interior pathologies based on the photographic evidence. An erotic fantasy of male supremacy is established through installments

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© GEORGES HUGNET. Untitled, 1938. 3½ x 5½ inches. Gelatin silver print on postcard. Hugnet immersed himself in an array of artistic pursuits including acting, book binding design, editing, film and play writing, poetry, publishing, rare book collecting, and translating. In the 1930s he joined the Surrealists and continued contributing to the surrealist movement until 1939 when Breton, the self-declared “Pope” of the surrealist movement, “excommunicated” him for refusing to end his friendship with former Surrealist Paul Éluard.

juxtapositions based on Dada and surreal premises. Man Ray placed no credence in the purity of practice, taking the position that “a certain amount of contempt for the material employed to express an idea is indispensable to the purest realization of this idea.”49  This attitude led him to use the  Sabattier effect to question reality and disconnect the subject from the photograph. The Sabattier effect, first documented by French scientist Armand Sabattier in 1862, is the partial reversal of an image caused by exposing it to light during development. Man Ray called it “solarization,” and like the “rayograph” he rediscovered it in 1929 in his darkroom. Lee Miller, at the time Man Ray’s assistant and lover, accidentally turned on the lights while developing film. Man Ray went with the chance occurrence and

revolving around a young girl’s sexual life. Barebreasted women appear in enigmatic situations featuring sadomasochist activities and positions of male conquest and control. Hugnet’s ordered montages contain an abundance of open white space and have a shared ancestry with Moholy-Nagy’s  fotoplastiks. The clarity of Hugnet’s constructions can be even more disconcerting than Moholy-Nagy’s, as what is actually being described, the subconscious netherland of dream and spirit, is not physically evident but comes to fruition in the viewer’s mind. Man Ray  (Emmanuel Radnitzky, 1890–1976), whom French artist and filmmaker Jean Cocteau called “the poet of the darkroom,”48 was a deft experimenter whose compositions contained unexpected

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RAOUL UBAC. Maquette pour un mur/Model for a Wall, from the series Le Combat des Penthésilées/Battle of Pentheseúa, 1938–1939. 6¾ × 9½ inches. Gelatin silver print. COURTESY  San Francisco Museum of Modern Art; © 2024 Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York, NY/ADAGP, Paris.

printed the negative, discovering that its partially reversed tones yielded a print that appeared both as a positive and a negative. Solarization became a Man Ray signature technique, which was not revealed until about 1932 when his relationship with Miller ended. Under Man Ray’s influence,  Raoul Ubac  (1910–1985), an artist and a poet, found new combinations of photomontage, solarization, bas-relief, and brûlage (using direct heat to melt the photographic emulsion) to remove a subject from its original context and place it into a surrealistic dream. Finding Breton’s Surrealist Manifesto “a revelation and a calling,” Ubac sought to disintegrate

form, often using the body as a site for these invasions of light that turn representation  inside out. In the series  Le Combat des Penthésilées  (Battle of the Amazons, 1938–1939), Ubac photographed a single female nude in a variety of positions and made prints from which he produced a collage. This image was rephotographed and solarized to embellish and reverse tonal relationships. Then the solarized images were photographed twice and the resulting negatives were sandwiched together, slightly out of register, to produce a bas-relief effect. In conventional bas-relief printing an exact positive and negative image of the same scene are combined slightly out of register to create the illusion of relief.

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MAN RAY. Elevage de Poussière from The Green Box, 1934 a.k.a Dust Breeding (on Marcel Duchamp’s The Large Glass), 1920. 7 7⁄8 × 10¼ inches. Gelatin silver print. Man Ray, who was also one of Marcel Duchamp’s collaborators, made a two-hour-long exposure that arrested The Large Glass’s intricate and delicate texture as well as the mixture of detritus that had accumulated over a year. After the photograph was made, Duchamp wiped The Large Glass nearly clean, leaving a part of the cones covered with dust, which he permanently affixed to the glass plate with a diluted cement. © Man Ray Trust/Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York, NY/ADAGP, Paris 2024. COURTESY  Philadelphia Museum of Art.

Ubac’s double positive method produced a print whose sense of low sculptural relief is achieved with only glowing grays, instead of the dark contour lines of regular bas-relief. This allowed what surrealist writer Georges Bataille called informe or formlessness, to take place; the “unthinking” (the undoing) of all categories, the removing of all boundaries and concepts (or proper forms) normally required to shape meaning.50  Informe  does not transcend meaning; it transgresses meaning. A notion of formlessness emerges by means of collapse and defilement, allowing new forms and definitions to emerge. Ubac’s methods invade the space of the body, destroying its normal boundaries, defying

gravity, distorting perspective, and transforming the body into various psychic states from ecstasy to violent disintegration. Man Ray’s solid conceptual base allowed him to find his voice in a variety of mediums including films, such as  Emak Bakia  (1926). In this film he investigated the fourth dimension through editing that collapsed and restructured time and space. Man Ray understood that photography’s mooring in reality let him keep order even in a surrealist squall. Man Ray did not think that truth could be discovered in the “thing itself ” because truth was fluid and was constantly being transformed.51 Man Ray’s photographing of Duchamp’s dadaist work in

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progress, The Bride Stripped Bare by Her Bachelors, Even (1915–1923), often referred to as The Large Glass, a big piece of glass that had been lying flat on sawhorses collecting dust, demonstrates the celebration of ideas over subject matter. At the time, Duchamp decided this ephemeral act could only be made permanent through photography and called the resulting document  Dust Breeding (1920).52 Man Ray saw a different meaning and published the same image as  View Taken from an Airplane  (1922). These two interpretations of the same image point out the elusive nature of photographic truth. Although the photograph remains the same, it takes on a new existence under different framers and  dissimilar interpretations. Conceptually the image discloses the fluid and contradictory nature of the photograph and how the interpretation of the image is dependent on the circumstances of the viewer and the text surrounding the image. Does the viewer see the image as a literal document that is tethered only to itself (the thing)? Or can the image have its own separate identity (that of the mind) that shifts with its surroundings? Both Duchamp and Man Ray saw art making as a process that involved the artist, the art object, and the viewer in an ongoing venture of reciprocal creation and interpretation. As the older Stieglitz and his progeny now advocated straight photography to uncover eternal truth, dadaists and Surrealists, such as Man Ray, steered a different course. For Man Ray reality was a flux and, like the name he gave himself, he did not settle for what was already a given for most people. Rather, he searched for new ways to visualize life’s temporary and evanescent nature. He stated: “Perhaps the final goal desired by the artist is a confusion or merging of all the arts, as things merge in real life.”53

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For an overview of the art and culture of numerous North American tribes see: Gaylord Torrence, et al., Art of Native America: The Charles and Valerie Diker Collection (New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2018). See Bonnie Yochelson and Kathleen A. Erwin,  Pictorialism into Modernism: The Clarence H. White School of Photography (New York: Rizzoli, 1996). Paul Outerbridge: A Singular Aesthetic. Photographs and Drawings 1921–1941: A Catalogue Raisonné, Elaine Dines, ed., in collaboration with Graham Howe (Laguna Beach, CA: Laguna Beach Museum of Art, 1981), 21. The Daybooks of Edward Weston: Vol. 1, Mexico and The Daybooks of Edward Weston:  Vol. 2,  California, Nancy Newhall, ed. (Millerton, NY: Aperture, 1973). The Daybooks of Edward Weston:  Vol. 1,  Mexico, Nancy Newhall, ed. (Millerton, NY: Aperture, 1973), 55. The unpublished and published  Daybooks  have had an extraordinary impact upon the development of photography in both theory and practice. See, for example, Jerry Uelsmann’s citation of them as the inspiration for his article on “Post-Visualization” (1967), reprinted in Andrew E. Hershberger,  Photographic Theory: An Historical Anthology  (Boston, MA and Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell, 2014), 232–34, esp. p. 233. French philosopher Henri Bergson postulated that the world is made up by two opposing tendencies, the life force and the resistance of matter against that force. Bergson believed that we know the material world through our intellect, but that it is by intuition that we perceive the life force and the reality of time, which is not a unit of measurement but a “duration” of “the persistence of the past in the present” that makes up life experience. These ideas were enthusiastically adopted by artists during the 1920s. Perhaps one could relate Bergson’s interest in “the persistence of the past in the present” to his interest in cinema, and to the “persistence of vision” that some theorists claim explains how the cinematic illusion of motion works. Bergson did argue that the human mind works like a reel of cinematic film: see Bergson’s “The Cinematographical Mechanism of Thought and the Mechanistic Illusion…” (1907) in Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 108–12. Edward Weston, “Photography,” 1934, in Peter C. Bunnell, ed., Edward Weston on Photography (Salt Lake City, UT: Peregrine Smith Books, 1983), 74. Edward Weston to Frank Roy Fraprie, June 7, 1922,

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The Center for Creative Photography, University of Arizona, Tucson. Quoted in Newhall,  The History of Photography  (1982), 188. See also Weston, “Seeing Photographically” (1943), reprinted in Hershberger, ed.,  Photographic Theory, 132–35. At about the same time, Fraprie had a strongly worded exchange with Ansel Adams: see Fraprie, “Our Illustrations” (1943), in Photographic Theory, 147–49. Nancy Newhall, ed.,  The Daybooks of Edward Weston, Vol. 1, 80. Edward Weston in Peter C. Bunnell, ed., Edward Weston on Photography  (Salt Lake City, UT: Gibbs M. Smith Books, 1983), 62. Edward Weston with Charis Wilson Weston, California and the West  (New York: Duell, Sloan & Pearce, 1940). Edward Weston, “Photography—Not Pictorial,” Camera Craft, vol. 37, no. 7 ( July 1930), 318. Also reprinted in Bunnell, ed., Edward Weston On Photography, 59. Ansel Adams, Letter to Alfred Stieglitz, December 25, 1944. www.getty.edu/art/collection/objects/55672/ ansel-ad-ams-mt-w illiamson-from-manz anarcalifornia-american-1944/ Ansel Adams,  Camera and Lens, Book 1 of the Ansel Adams Basic Photo Series (Hastings-on-Hudson, NY: Morgan and Morgan, 1948), 23. For a feminist critique of Adams’s work and that of his colleagues and advocates such as John Szarkowski at MOMA, see Deborah Bright, “Of Mother Nature and Marlboro Men: An Inquiry into the Cultural Meanings of Landscape Photography” (1985), in Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 302–9. John Paul Edwards, “Group f. 64,”  Camera Craft, vol. 42, no. 3 (March 1935), 107. See also Ansel Adams, “A Personal Credo” (1943), in Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 142–46. William Mortensen, “Fallacies of `Pure Photography,’ “ Camera Craft, vol. 41 ( June 1934), 260–61. John Szarkowski,“William Mortensen (Book Review),” Art on Paper, vol. 3, issue 5 (May/June 1999), 69‒71. See: A. D. Coleman, et al., William Mortensen: A Pictorial Compendium of Witchcraft (New York: Stephen Romano Gallery, 2014). www.whmortensen.com. William Mortensen, “Fallacies of ‘Pure Photography,’ ” Camera Craft, vol. 41 ( June 1934), 257. Roger Ebert, “A film about a film about itself,” July 1, 2009, www.rogerebert.com/reviews/great-movie-manwith-a-movie-camera-1929

22 For more on this subject see Daniel Magilow,  The

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Photography of Crisis: The Photo Essays of Weimar Germany (Philadelphia, PA: Penn State Press, 2012). Carl Georg Heise, “Preface” to Albert RengerPatzsch, Die Welt ist schön, (1928) trans. “Photography and the Neue Sachlichkeit Movement” in David Mellor, ed., Germany: The New Photography, 1927–33 (London: Arts Council of Great Britain, 1978), 10. See also Renger-Patzsch, “Aims” (1927), in Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 140–41. Gustaf Stotz in Das Kunstblatt (May 1929), trans. in Van Deren Coke, “Introduction,”  Avant-Garde Photography in Germany, 1919–1939  (San Francisco, CA: San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, 1980), 18. Karl Blossfeldt,  Art Forms in Nature, Second Series (New York: E. Weyhe, 1932), Foreword, unp. Karl Nierendorf,”Preface,”  Urformen der Kunst, 1928; trans. in David Mellor, ed.,  Germany: The New Photography, 1927–33 (London, 1978), 17. Ibid. Atget’s work might have been lost if not for Berenice Abbott, Man Ray’s assistant at the time, who raised money to purchase Atget’s prints and negatives. Abbott spent years crusading to bring Atget’s images to the notice of photographers and collectors. The Museum of Modern Art purchased the collection in 1968 and began to exhibit and publish his work. See John Szarkowski and Maria Morris Hambourg, The Work of Atget in four volumes: Vol. I, Old France (New York: The Museum of Modern Art, 1981); Vol. II, The Art of Old Paris, 1982; Vol. III, The Ancient Regime, 1984; and Vol. IV, Modern Times, 1985. Julien Levy, Memory of an Art Gallery (New York: G. P. Putnam’s Sons, 1977), 91. All quotes in this paragraph from László MoholyNagy, “Unprecedented Photography,” 1927; reprinted in Christopher Phillips,  Photography in the Modern Era: European Documents and Critical Writings, 1913– 1940  (New York: The Metropolitan Museum of Art and Aperture, 1989), 83–85. See also Moholy-Nagy’s “Light: A Medium of Plastic Expression” (1923), in Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 130–31. László Moholy-Nagy, “Produktion-Reproduktion,”  De Stijl (Leiden) vol. 5, no. 7 ( July 1922) as in Christopher Phillips,  Photography in the Modern Era: European Documents and Critical Writings, 1913–1940  (New York: The Metropolitan Museum of Art and Aperture, 1989), 79–82.

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32 Fotoplastik was the term Moholy-Nagy used to

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separate his photomontages from the montages of the dadaists. A completed fotoplastik was a finished collage that was photographed by Lucia Moholy and altered in the printing to produce a series of variant images, such as a negative print. The titles, also done with Lucia Moholy, were not intended to be descriptive and were often colloquialisms or made-up words that defy translation. Gropius had been using Lucia’s photographs without crediting her. She repeatedly contacted Gropius to reclaim her images and he would continuously protest. Lucia resorted to hiring a lawyer to retrieve her work. See: Robin Schuldenfrei, “Images in Exile: Lucia Moholy’s Bauhaus Negatives and the Construction of the Bauhaus Legacy,” History of Photography, vol. 37, no. 2 (May 2013), 182‒203. See Maria Morris Hambourg,  The New Vision: Photography Between the World Wars (New York: Harry N. Abrams, 1989). De Stijl (“The Style”), based on the belief that absolute artistic purity is possible, was launched in the Netherlands by Theo van Doesburg and was active from 1917 to 1931. Entirely abstract and aiming toward a purity of vision, De Stijl permitted only the use of the straight line, the right angle, and the three primary colors (red, blue, and yellow), augmented by white, black, and gray. László Moholy-Nagy, “From Pigment to Light,”  Telehor, vol. 1, no. 2 (1936), 32–36, translated and reprinted in Nathan Lyons, ed.,  Photographers on Photography  (Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall, 1966), 80. David Wooters, George Eastman Museum Print Archivist in conversation with author about Florence Henri’s Composition No. 12, June 29, 1994. László Moholy-Nagy,  The New Vision  (1928), in  The New Vision and Abstract of an Artist, trans. by Daphne M. Hoffman (New York: George Wittenborn, Inc., 1947), 38–39. Telephone interview with Diana du Pont, October 24, 1984 in Van Deren Coke with Diana C. du Pont, Photography: A Facet of Modernism  (New York: Hudson Hills Press in association with the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, 1986), 58. Ibid. Jacobi’s reference to “photogenic drawings” knowingly recalls the inventor of photography, William Henry

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Fox Talbot. See Talbot’s “Some Account of the Art of Photogenic Drawing” (1839), in Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 38–43. See László Moholy-Nagy, “Space-Time and the Photographer,”  American Annual of Photography, 1943 (Boston, MA: American Photographic Publishing, 1942), 7–14. In Drtikol’s method an oil print image is transferred onto a litho stone in order to divide tones into halfand quartertones, resulting in prints that possess more physical depth than a gelatin silver print and have the light texture of a lithograph. This technique was used to print his book Les Nus de Drtikol (1929). Quoted in James Enyeart, Bruguière: His Photographs and His Life (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1977), 16. Walter Chappell, “Francis Bruguière,”  Art in America, vol. 47, no. 3 (Fall 1959), 59. See Rosalind Krauss et al., eds., L’Amour fou: Photography and Surrealism (New York: Abbeville Press, 1985). Artists’ books refer to works constructed in a book format, produced in limited editions, and usually only available in art bookstores, galleries, and museums (see Chapter 17). The term is attributed to Dianne Vanderlip, who arranged the exhibition  Artists Books at Moore College of Art, Philadelphia, in 1973. Its precursor was work such as William Blake’s  The Marriage of Heaven and Hell  (circa 1790), which he wrote, illustrated, and published with the help of his wife. Neil Baldwin,  Man Ray: American Artist  (Boston, MA: Da Capo Press, unabridged republication by arrangement with Clarkson N. Potter, 1988), 139. Arturo Schwarz,  Man Ray: The Rigour of Imagination (New York: Rizzoli, 1977), 230. Georges Bataille, “L’informe” (“Formless’) 1929,  Documents 1, Paris, 1929, p. 382 in Allan Stoekl with Carl R. Lovitt and Donald M. Leslie Jr. (trans.), Georges Bataille. Vision of Excess. Selected Writings, 1927–1939, (Minneapolis, MN: University of Minnesota Press, 1985), 31. Photography’s frequent, and often misinterpreted, emphasis on “the thing itself ” returns us to Edward Weston’s  Daybooks  and articles (noted earlier), and to the writings of MoMA curator John Szarkowski. See, for example, Szarkowski’s exploration of “The thing itself ” as a sub-heading within his Introduction to  The Photographer’s Eye  (1966), in Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 226–31, esp. p. 228.

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52 After this photograph was made, Duchamp fixed the dust

with varnish. The Large Glass eventually evolved into The Bride Stripped Bare by Her Bachelors, Even (1915–1923). 53 Man Ray, interview, 1951 as quoted in Neil Baldwin,  Man Ray: American Artist, 11.1, unp. Man Ray may have been targeting this comment to counter the well-known writings of the dominant, mid-century American art critic Clement Greenberg, who disliked a “confusion” of the arts. See Greenberg’s “The Camera’s Glass Eye” (1946), in Hershberger, ed.,  Photographic Theory, 136–38.

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C H A P T E R T W E LV E

Social Documents

AN AMERICAN IMPULSE : SO CIAL UPLIFT

about reform: windows in every tenement room, indoor plumbing, tenant rights. Realizing that words could not fully convey the horrid conditions, he turned to photography to document the deplorable conditions and used the photographs as weapons for social change. Riis’s pioneering efforts at social reform would lead Theodore Roosevelt, then NYC police commissioner, to call him “the most useful citizen in New York.” The exposing of political and social corruption that Riis and other reformers engaged in during the Gilded Age became known as muckraking.3 The hand camera enabled Riis to photograph in the tenements at night or in low light. He used dangerous flashlight powder to illuminate the horrid details of grim poverty: dirt, trash, peeling paint, and the starkness of having nothing. The flash cartridges were fired from a revolver whose explosive discharge would awaken sleepers. At times, Riis set places on fire, ignited his own clothes, and almost blinded himself. He described how he started one fire while photographing a group of blind beggars inside a tenement attic:

Millions of European immigrants came to America in the nineteenth century looking for personal freedom and the opportunity to make a better life. Buffeted by a series of post-Civil War economic depressions, however, many were left jobless, hungry, and psychologically beaten down, barely existing in disease-plagued New York City tenements.1  Jacob A. Riis  (1849–1914), who came penniless to New York from Denmark in 1870, suffered the degradations of spending nights in police lodging for the homeless, where he was robbed of his gold locket keepsake and had his dog clubbed to death. Riis tramped the streets in search of work, did chores for food, and even walked to Philadelphia to look for a job, before finding employment in 1873 with a New York news bureau. In 1877, Riis became a police reporter in Mulberry Bend, the East Side’s worst slum district. Here more than a million people lived in 37,000 airless, dark, and unhygienic tenement buildings. Forty thousand people a year entered workhouses or asylums while thousands of homeless children scavenged for food until they were old enough to join criminal gangs.2 Reporting on the scandalous conditions as a journalist was not enough for Riis, who wanted to bring

“When the blinding effect of the flash had passed away… I saw the flames creeping up the wall, and my first impulse was to bolt for the street and shout for help. The next was to smother the fire myself, and I did, with a vast deal of trouble.”4

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His article “Flashes from the Slums,” which appeared in the February 12, 1888, edition of  The  Sun  (New York) illustrated with wood engravings made from his photographs, described how his subjects reacted to “the blinding flash … the patter of retreating footsteps and the mysterious visitors were gone before they could collect their scattered thoughts and try and find out what it was all about.”5 Riis’s hit-and-run strategy can make his images of social inequality seem dispassionate. After all, he did not concern himself with individuals but with the collective problems of the group. Nevertheless, his images offered a first public glimpse into the unmerciful, claustrophobic life of destitution by someone who had been there too. Riis obtained photographs to illustrate his widely attended reformist lectures, in which he introduced the concept of “social uplift.” He saw crime, ignorance, and vice as the effects rather than the causes of poverty, and he felt people needed government and private programs to raise themselves out of poverty and to instill middle-class values. Social uplift has been disputed by some as patronizing and by others as expensive and ineffective, yet America’s food stamp and Medicaid programs are legacies of a long campaign by Riis and others to fight poverty. For Riis, who did not see himself as a photographer, photographs provided only one component of his social crusade. He wanted to make his case as persuasively as possible and toward this end enlisted Richard Hoe Lawrence and Dr. Henry G. Piffard, members of the Society of Amateur Photographers of New York, to make pictures under his direction. This involvement of other photographers explains the varying styles of what became known as the “Riis photographs,” from the stark and confrontational to the near picturesque. In his lectures, delivered in a high-pitched voice with a Danish accent, Riis presented the shocking facts on the tenement problem: immigration figures, population density, police crime statistics, and death rates. He did not rely solely on the rational to achieve results,

but crafted media-savvy entertaining and emotional lectures, appealing to the heart, the hankie, and Victorian Christian moralizing. Riis understood that a photograph’s narrative content was fluid and could be directed to create specific meanings and symbols. By synthesizing music, lights, and lantern slides, he played to his audience’s family and religious values, even pausing for sacred singing. Near the end of one talk, he showed slides of both the burial trench at Potter’s Field and a painting of Jesus Christ. Odd as Riis’s lectures might seem to us today, this blend of coarse ethnic humor that put down Jews and Italians and spirituality likely amplified the effectiveness of his images for his audiences who were probably concerned about how these immigrants would assimilate into American society. Not only did Riis make the unseen and ignored visible, but he also made his audiences feel empathic responsibility. This led to action that pressed for reforms such as razing the worst slums and constructing settlement houses, schools, and “pocket” neighborhood parks.6 Although Riis claimed to be a clumsy photographer, uninterested in aesthetics or technique, the images produced under his direction have profoundly influenced social documentary practice. Riis did not idealize, sentimentalize, or arrange his subjects into pleasing compositions to explain the difficulties of industrial transformation. Without calling attention to their visual construction, the pictures reveal the major societal upheavals of explosive urban growth and increased ethnic diversity within a racist society. Nevertheless, the randomness of the compositions lends authenticity while the chance recordings of the unexpected add legitimacy. By juxtaposing sympathetic subjects with their dilapidated surroundings, Riis made a case for social response, insisting that “the other half ” does not have to live like this. His book,  How the Other Half Lives: Studies Among the Tenements of New York (1890), included seventeen halftone illustrations and nineteen line drawings based on photographs, along with text calling for action. As the halftone process for

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JACOB A. RIIS. Police Station Lodgers 8. An Ancient Woman Lodger in Eldridge Street Station, circa 1890. Gelatin silver print/printing out paper. An old woman with the plank she sleeps on at the Eldridge Street Station women’s lodging room. COURTESY  Jacob A. Riis Collection, © Museum of the City of New York.

translating photographs into printer’s ink had not been perfected, the photographs lacked detail and sharpness. Riis’s own racism and inability to see other immigrants as fully human can be seen with his numerous stereotypical cultural biases such as:

in droves from Eastern Europe to escape persecution, from which freedom could be bought only with gold, it has enslaved them in bondage worse than that from which they fled. Money is their God.7

Despite its flaws, the book is a landmark in American social reform.8 Always a muckraking reformer who recognized the value of photographs as social documents, Riis continued to lecture as well as write. He eventually published more than a dozen

Thrift is the watchword of Jewtown, as of its people the world over. It is at once its strength and its fatal weakness, its cardinal virtue and its foul disgrace. Become an over-mastering passion with these people who come here

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books, including his autobiography, The Making of an American (1901), and he remained an indefatigable magic lantern lecturer. Although not free from prejudice and stereotypes, his blend of amusement and instruction impelled civic-minded people to act. After Theodore Roosevelt became governor of New York in 1899, he worked with Riis to institute numerous social reforms. Through his lectures and publications, Riis demonstrated that photographs, in combination with words, could direct social activity. As part of this American wave of social reform, Lewis Wickes Hine (1874–1940), a sociologist from Columbia University who became interested in artistic photography, began to photograph at Ellis Island in 1904, where 71 percent of all immigrants to America landed between 1892 and 1924.9  Hine taught camera courses and took his students, such as Paul Strand, to Stieglitz’s “291” gallery. As a teacher at the Ethical Culture School in New York, a vital setting for the progressive movement, Hine employed photography to combat the rampant prejudice against the newly arrived peoples from eastern and southern Europe. Using a 5 × 7-inch camera, Hine visibly revealed the potential of these newly arrived individuals. Hine’s subjects appear to be aware of the camera and cooperative in constructing an image whose structure and lighting empowers them. His sympathetic style challenged accusations that these “new” immigrants, unlike the “old” immigrants from England, Ireland, and northern Europe, were morally and socially depraved and responsible for crime, corruption, labor unrest, political radicalism, and the slums. Hine outlined the beliefs that made his photographs potent weapons for change:

becomes necessary, then, in our revelation of the truth, to see to it that the camera we depend upon contracts no bad habits.10

Bearing in mind the notion that photojournalism should be faithfully truthful was not yet a professional standard when Hine began his career. He is known to have posed and dressed subjects in different clothes and to have recycled earlier images at later dates. For instance, a portrait of an adorable young boy,  Paris Gamin, 1918, appears on the cover  of The American Child  magazine in 1924 to exemplify the publication’s theme.11 This illustrative sociology separates Hine’s work from earlier reportage and defines his “documentary/propagandist” style that combined objective fact with subjective invention for the purpose of arousing awareness that would lead to action to improve deplorable working conditions. Between 1906 and 1918, Hine photographed for the National Child Labor Committee (NCLC). Assigned to photograph for the  Pittsburgh Survey  (1909), a massive six-volume report on the city’s dangerous industrial working conditions, Hine’s work became a pivotal document of the reform movement. Here Hine learned the methods of case studies, statistics, and surveys that comprised the budding discipline of sociology. The NCLC needed facts documenting abuses of children in the workplace to support the passage of protective legislation. Hine collected information about the children he photographed, including each child’s name, age, height, weight, nature of the child’s work, how long the child had been on the job, and any work-related injuries, so as to “refute those who, either optimistically or hypocritically, spread the news that there is no child labor.”12 This act of naming people and placing them in work settings transformed Hine’s images from the general to specific, making them appear genuinely humane. Decades later, labor unions continued to utilize his images in their “before and after” campaigns to

The picture is the language of all nationalities and all ages… the average person believes implicitly that the photograph cannot falsify… This unbounded faith in the integrity of the photograph is often rudely shaken, for, while photographs may not lie, liars may photograph. It

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LEWIS W. HINE. Making Human Junk, poster published in Hine’s brochure, “The High Cost of Child Labor,” 1915. COURTESY  Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division, Washington, D.C.

show how they had improved the lives of American children. Hine, generally an unwanted visitor at industrial sites, developed ingenious ways to make his images. He posed as a fire inspector, postcard vendor, Bible

salesman, and as an industrial photographer, one who needed a child standing next to a machine to provide a sense of scale. Working quickly with available light, which necessitated large apertures and their accompanying limited depth-of-field,

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LEWIS W. HINE. Mechanic and Steam Pump, 1921. 9 5⁄8 x 7 5⁄8 inches. Gelatin silver print. In this composition the worker takes on a mythic quality as Hine posed him within the machine’s circular ring to produce a halo effect. In Men at Work (1932), Hine summarized his position on the friction between humans and technology by writing: “Cities do not build themselves, machines cannot make machines… We call this the Machine Age. But the more machines we use the more do we need real men to make and direct them… I will take you into the heart of modern industry … where the character of the men is being put into the motors, the airplanes, the dynamos upon which the life and happiness of millions of us depend…”13 COURTESY  The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles, CA.

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Hine drew the viewer’s attention to the face of the person  being portrayed. He relinquished fine art references, recording instead the dirty details of the industrial landscape and its small, forlorn, ill-clad inhabitants. With a “less is more” artistic stratagem, Hine’s minimalistic pictures had a greater and more immediate impact, as they took on a sense of being objective records. Hine exposed the myth that everyone could pull themselves up by their bootstraps and succeed in America. Moralistic tales, such as Horatio Alger, Jr.’s Ragged Dick; or, Street Life in New York with the Boot Blacks (1868) and subsequent novels, encouraged the capitalist rags-to-riches fable that in a “free country poverty in early life is no bar to a man’s advancement.”14  Destroying these inane fantasies would discourage the rationalization of child labor as a training camp for junior capitalists.Yet, the children he photographed may be dressed in soiled rags, but they are not sensationalized as in Jacob Riis’s pictures of criminals and drunkards in squalor. Hine made the process, not the product, of labor the focal point of his images. By picturing those who labored instead of what they made, he laid open the deception of consumerism, in which people enjoyed mass-produced products without considering their negative repercussions—the low-wage sweatshops, the dangerous working conditions, the health hazards, unemployment, and pollution, humanizing those most at risk of losing their humanity. Hine produced both visual and written material for exhibition and publication. As early as 1910, he created picture sequences, forerunners of the photo essay, for Survey magazine. His cropped images have captions to contextualize and guide the meaning of the image, instituting a narrative format that editors would refer to as the “photo story.” Hine developed “Time Exposures,” a series of photographs of the same subject, from different points of view, collaged with text, offering a descriptive and interpretive analysis that clarified a situation in need of change. He also designed didactic collages that

portrayed a greedy industry converting healthy children into “Human Junk.” Referring to himself as an “interpretive photographer,” Hine understood the chameleonlike nature of the photograph and realized that a knowledgeable person did not have to stop at taking a picture, but could make an image and add text to  direct viewers to a predetermined conclusion. “With a picture,” Hine stated in 1909, “thus sympathetically interpreted, what a lever we have for the social uplift.”15  His work appeared in books, magazines, pamphlets, slide lectures, and traveling exhibits, helping to mobilize public concern to pass legislation reforming the child labor laws in the 1910s. In 1930, Hine undertook his last major project: photographs of the men who were building the Empire State Building (1930–1931). Following the construction of over 102 vertigo-inducing steel stories, the 56-year-old Hine had himself swung out in midair with his view camera to record the final rivet being installed on the pinnacle of the building. These dangerous efforts celebrate the heroic and mythological spirit of labor, not the building, a powerful counterpoint to the growing feeling in American cities that people had become insignificant in the urban landscape. Unlike the work of those interested in the beauty of the machine, Hine’s compositions juxtaposed human and machine characteristics. Often emphasizing the faces of the workers, Hine stepped away from the massive and flawless authority of industry to show how humans fit into industrial progress. The resulting innovative photographic picture book,  Men at Work  (1932), contained full-bled pages and unadorned typography.

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ETHNOLO GICAL APPROACHES

doing so they established and controlled another group’s visual identity. Adam Clark “A. C.” Vroman (1856–1916) was one photographer who took a less invasive approach to native cultures. Between 1895 and 1904, he photographed Hopi, Navajo, Zuni, Laguna, and Acoma peoples to record a way of life he deemed rapidly vanishing, bringing the first reports of the Pueblo aesthetic back to cluttered, eastern Victorian homes. His modernistic portrayals demonstrate his considered and unpretentious style. Vroman did not create

During the nineteenth century, photography was placed in the service of numerous ethnological theories as a technically powerful means for imposing colonial, positivist classifications on nonindustrial, indigenous cultures. Photographers created images from their own societal perspective, as outsiders ignorant of local customs, visual culture, and history, and then sometimes distributed them widely. In

C. & F. W. DAMMANN. D’Urban, Natal Zulu (U’tambosa), 1873–1874. 18 7⁄8 x 253⁄16 inches. Albumen silver print. Carl Dammann (1819–1874) was a Hamburg photographer who was hired in the early 1870s to copy ethnological photographs from the Goddefroy Museum in Hamburg, Germany, which he published in Anthropologisches-Ethnologisches Album in Photographien (1872–1874) without crediting the original makers. This page is from C. & F. W. Dammann’s Ethnological Photographic Gallery of the Various Races of Men (1875), which was completed by his brother Friedrich following Carl’s sudden death in 1874. COURTESY  New York Public Library.

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a pictorialist, romantic “noble savage” or conceal nontraditional elements. He respected the dignity and privacy of his subjects at a time when tourists visiting holy Native American sites often blatantly ignored restrictions on the photography of sacred ceremonies and dances. Disrespectful and insensitive behavior by Caucasian photographers who treated the Hopi snake dance (a sixteen-day rain prayer) as an exotic spectacle of “otherness” eventually led the Hopi to first restrict  and then ban all photographers from the dance in the early twentieth century. Vroman spent time in the villages, obtained people’s trust, and as a demonstration of good faith returned with prints for his sitters. By giving slide lectures to white-skinned Americans, Vroman helped alter and diminish the distorted, stereotypical depiction of Native Americans as subhuman, primitive, bloodthirsty savages. Edward Sheriff Curtis  (1868–1952) made a career of photographing Native Americans. As a teenager, Curtis built his own camera and taught himself photography, and in the early 1890s he opened a photography and photoengraving business in Seattle, Washington. Curtis learned ethnographic methods of the time as the official photographer for the Harriman Expedition to Alaska (1899). Between 1900 and 1906, Curtis and his assistants photographed Native Americans of the Northwest, Southwest, and Great Plains. Curtis traveled and lived with Native Americans at a time when the Bureau of Indian Affairs officially suppressed native religious ceremonies and languages. In an era when respectable scientists considered native groups as an early phase of evolution and white domination a Darwinian triumph, many native people agreed to reenact scenes of traditional life that no longer existed for Curtis’s camera and for the sake of posterity.16 Curtis, however, was not an objective documentarian. His work applied a white European cultural filter to native life, combining romantic, sepia-toned, and soft-focus pictorial methods with ethnological

ADAM CLARK VROMAN. The Snake Priest, Hopi, 1901. 8¼ x 6 3⁄16 inches. Gelatin silver print. Numerous native groups do not believe in making permanent records of sacred events out of reverence for the original experience. The legacy of invading outsiders, beginning with the Spanish, suppressing native religious life and forcing them to carry on their rites in secret, also made them suspicious of whites who wanted to record their ceremonies, which they feared could be used as evidence for additional repression. COURTESY  George Eastman Museum, Rochester, NY.

objectives, a combination that manufactured a nostalgic view of the vanishing “noble savage.” Curtis suppressed evidence of assimilation and manipulated his images for emotional effect. Costumes, wigs, props, and backdrops—often tribe specific— were transported from one group to another for picturesque effect. Curtis incorporated sculptural

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language and music, and recreated northwest coast native life on a set for his silent film,  In the Land of the Headhunters (1910–1914). His monumental work,  The North American Indian  (1907–1930), contains almost 2,200 images, with twenty volumes of text, each of about 350 pages. This was made possible by a large team that included hundreds of Native Americans. Only 250 editions, printed in photogravure to achieve brilliant luminous effects and unusual depth, were published.17  The original plates were rediscovered in 1977 and their partial reprinting brought Curtis’s work back to the public’s attention. Although now criticized for their racist attitudes and romanticized treatment of native people as exotica, Curtis’s recreations continue to provide sometimes the only evidence of artifacts, costumes, ceremonies, dances, games, legends, and songs of many tribes’ previous existence, which can lead to a sometimes confused/incorrect/incomplete document of tribal life. There was no market for the harsh realism of reservation despair and poverty, but with the Native Americans’ cooperation, Curtis harnessed his narrative skills to recreate idealized symbols of a vanished time in the American West. Made during an era of unrestrained industrialization, Curtis’s ennobling treatments continue to represent the timeless myth of the honorable natives, who represent a “disappearing race” being pushed aside by the steamroller of American Manifest Destiny. Unfortunately for Curtis, he lost the copyright of his work to John Pierpont Morgan who had financed the project. Racial exploitation and idealistic myths were also being perpetrated through photographic means in the American East.  Frances Benjamin Johnston  (1864–1952) received her first camera from George Eastman, a family friend, and in the early 1890s opened a studio in Washington, D.C. Johnston encouraged women to consider careers in photography by writing articles and arranging shows and publications to serve women

DWARD S. CURTIS. A Tewa Girl, 1921. 15 7⁄16 × 11½ inches. Photogravure. Curtis has been criticized for manipulating the contents of scenes for pictorial effect and removing or retouching all evidence of the modern world in an effort to recreate an authentic past that was in the process of slipping away. However, by making more than 40,000 negatives of 80 tribes between 1896 and 1930 his body of work continues to provide the broadest record of Native American life from that time. COURTESY  The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles, CA.

lighting, silhouettes, touched-up highlights, and print burning and dodging to produce formal, dramatic, and often dignified portraits. From 1900 to 1930, Curtis worked with about eighty native groups, producing some 40,000 images. He wrote four books, supervised sixteen others, made more than 10,000 recordings of native

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FRANCES BENJAMIN JOHNSTON. Class in American History, plate from an album of Hampton Institute, 1899–1900. 7½ × 9½ inches. Platinum print. COURTESY  Digital Image © The Museum of Modern Art/Licensed by SCALA/Art Resource, New York.

photographers. Through her friend Gertrude Käsebier, Johnston experimented with pictorialism and, in 1904, became an associate member of the Photo-Secession. Johnston did commercial assignments around the theme of the workplace. Her most widely known images were for a Virginia school, the Hampton Institute, dedicated to the reformist ideal of industrial training to eliminate poverty among rural Native and African Americans. At the end of the nineteenth century, the “Hampton Idea,” typified

by its most famous graduate, Booker T. Washington (1856–1915),18  was championed as a remedy for racial troubles by bringing the “light of civilization” to the nation’s “darker races.” Johnston’s Hampton prints, originally produced for the Paris Exposition of 1900, were later numbered, captioned, and placed in a leather album. During the 1940s, the album was donated to the Museum of Modern Art, where it was eventually exhibited and published in an abridged version as the Hampton Album in 1966.19

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Johnston’s tableaux offered a version of the white American Dream with faces of color. Her immaculately constructed, almost sculptural “friezes” dramatize the Hampton philosophy. Viewers get a privileged look at disciplined students learning the white man’s ways. The captions stress that Hampton students received a plain, utilitarian education. In images such as  Class in American History  (1899), viewers observe the stereotypical Native American warrior as the embodiment of the old (bad) picturesque Wild West dramatically juxtaposed with the new (good) examples that

Hampton produced. The photographs attempt to offer proof that the Hampton program could assimilate Native and African Americans into “civilized,” white culture. The participants, including a symbolic stuffed American eagle sitting on a table, appear as a lifeless diorama, celebrating the conservative belief that sheer determination leads to a quick transformation. Nobody is out of position, implying that Hampton students follow orders and maintain discipline. Contemporaneous viewers were free to examine this suitably constructed space and give it a blessing without having to participate. The  Hampton Album  reminds us how difficult it is to critically examine the concepts that influence our thinking in our own time. Johnston shows how our beliefs shape how we make, see, and interpret images. Johnston’s beguilingly formalistic images continue to deliver racist messages, perhaps as Leni Riefenstahl’s film  Triumph of the Will  (1935)20  beautifies the genocidal practices of Hitler’s Third Reich. The reformist faith in the “American Dream” grew so deep, however, that it never seemed wrong to impose it on others. By examining the original thoughts and frameworks behind such documentary work, and by comparing it with contemporary principles, we can gain an understanding of the “truth” or fiction of those underlying ideologies that photographers intentionally and/or unintentionally conveyed. Photography has offered its practitioners a special social license to interact with other, non-mainstream people and situations that they may find disturbing, problematic, or unfamiliar, and to share their impressions with the curious who wish to be informed or vicariously scrutinize these circumstances.  E. J. Bellocq  (1873–1949) was a New Orleans commercial photographer who scrutinized the forbidden world of female prostitutes. Not much is known about his surviving plates from the Storyville red light district, except that they convey a sense of complicity between the male gaze and the female being pictured.21  Although the atmosphere

E. J. BELLOCQ. Prostitute, circa 1912. 8 × 10 inches. © Lee Friedlander, posthumous print circa 1970. Printing-out paper, gold toned. COURTESY  Collection of Jack & Beverly Wilgus and Fraenkel Gallery, San

Francisco, CA.

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is a mix of lassitude, resignation, and sexuality, no sexual acts or men are depicted, and some of the photographs offer no clues that the women were prostitutes. Overall, the images wrestle with penetrating the veil of languor and suppressed desire in a way not possible before photography. Even the most explicit images, where a woman is presented in dark surroundings as a mysterious sexual object, are countered by the fantasy of availability in the model’s expression. Such countenances hint at the pleasures to be had once the masks between the observer and the observed are lifted. Some recently published Bellocq images show negative manipulation via scratched-out women’s faces, lending the pictures a kind of licentiousness. The aggressive cancellation of their faces by an anonymous hand hints at the vulnerable position of people who offer their bodies for sale and, by proxy, shows how the making of a photograph of any powerless other always places the photographer and the resulting images in the judgment seat. Tina Modotti  (1896–1942) became indicative of a new generation of socially involved artists who considered the camera as a tool for cultural change, balancing formalism with human content. From 1922 to 1930 she had an intimate as well as a working relationship with Edward Weston, whose photographs generally were not motived by the desire to promote political or societal change. Modotti preferred flat light that favored the linear qualities of the subject instead of the hard, direct light that Weston chose in order to emphasize mass and texture. She was willing to challenge Weston’s purist axioms and would crop or enlarge a negative to make the final image. As a documentarian of Mexican workers, Modotti merged her work into a “place in social production” consistent with the symbols and doctrines of communist  social realism that favored didactic illustrations of political subjects and forbade abstraction.22 She regarded her photography as the Mexican muralists did their painting: as a democratic art.23 Unfortunately, this

led some of her later work, like Mexican Sombrero with Hammer and Sickle  (1927), and  Bandolier, Corn, Sickle (1927), which attempt to join art with propaganda, to become preachy clichés. Eventually abandoning photography for overt political activism, Modotti stated: “I put too much art in my life—too much energy—and consequently I have not much left to give to art.”24  Her sympathetic treatment of Mexican working people can be seen as part of an embryonic awakening of a new type of ethnic/social consciousness that would change not only how photographs look, but who makes them.

© TINA MODOT TI. Hands Resting on Tool, 1927, Mexico. 7¾ × 8½ inches. Palladium print. Modotti’s strongest iconic images combined the pure formal clarity of Weston, the elegant composition of Vermeer, and the social/political concerns of the Mexicanidad movement into a geometric balance that emphasized the heroic qualities of Mexico’s working-class people. COURTESY  The Paul J. Getty Museum, Los Angeles, CA.

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EMERGING ETHNIC CONSCIOUSNESS

(1882–1933), faced the challenge of surviving in a commercial world that would not hire them.25 Their circumstances rarely provided the financial freedom or leisure time to do personal work, and their personal interests had to be consolidated into their daily studio work. Horace Poolaw  (1906–1984) was a Kiowa from Oklahoma who became one of the first Native American professional photographers. Poolaw created a straightforward style that presented an insider’s view of the difficult relationships between natives and non-natives. His best work juxtaposes the traditional and the modern, astutely representing the  incongruities and underlying difficulties of forced cultural assimilation. Poolaw’s inclusion of “anachronisms,” such as six-packs of soda, breaks down what critic Lucy Lippard refers to as:

During the first decades of the twentieth century, entrepreneurs of diverse ethnic backgrounds opened photographic businesses to make cultural records within their own communities. Minority photographers, like Native American Richard Throssel

the time-honored distance between Them and Us, the illusion that They live in different times than We do. ‘Anachronisms’ may also be somewhat threatening to Our peace of mind, recalling how They got There (the Reservation), were put There, in a space that is separated from Us by the barbed wire of ‘absentee colonialism.’26

Poolaw’s works critique imposed ethnocentric positions, that is, the belief that anyone and/or any one group could be the center of the universe and the measure of all within it. Such ethnocentric beliefs make pluralism—a flexible society with a tolerance for differences—an impossible goal to achieve. Furthermore, without an open pluralistic society it is extremely difficult for a photographer or anyone else outside the ethnocentric norm to find and express their voice about anything. Poolaw’s photographs of daily Kiowa life show the complex intersection of two distinct cultures, reminding viewers that tolerance is necessary for differences to flourish, and for the promotion of a more intricate and richer life for all. One of the best-known studios serving the African American community was run by  James

© HORACE POOLAW. Horace Poolaw, Aerial Photographer, and Gus Palmer, Gunner, MacDill Air Base, Tampa, FL, circa 1944. 12¼ × 9 9⁄16  inches. Gelatin silver print. Poolaw’s photographs often reveal the contradictions and irony of the Kiowa lifestyle as it underwent rapid transition during the first half of the twentieth century. After World War II broke out, Poolaw enlisted in the Army Air Corps (the Kiowa’s earlier enemy) where he trained young men in aerial photography. “Because young Kiowa men were expected to become warriors, many of Poolaw’s contemporaries joined the armed forces feeling that this was not only their patriotic duty as Americans, but an opportunity to fulfill traditional roles.”27 COURTESY  Stanford University, CA. Horace Poolaw Photography Project.

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VanDerZee  (1886–1983). He began an eightyyear career when he bought a mail-order camera and set up a darkroom in his bedroom closet as a teenager.28  Opening his first Harlem studio in 1916, VanDerZee made portraits of members of the Harlem Renaissance of the 1920s, including religious leader Adam Clayton Powell, Sr., comedian Florence Mills, dancer/actor Bill “Bojangles” Robinson, and activist Marcus Garvey, founder of the Back-to-Africa movement. VanDerZee’s romantic representations of the Black middle and

upper classes provided records of family and social events while testifying to the private achievement, aspiration, and elegance of a people beginning their struggle for racial equality. VanDerZee was an expert at using light, composition, props, retouching, and montage to achieve a flattering, positive, sometimes sentimental ambiance of a life seldom seen by outsiders, especially those who were accustomed to viewing degrading images of Black life. Deborah Willis argues that his work defines

© JAMES VANDERZEE. Dorothy Waring, 1923 6¼ × 4¼ inches. Gelatin silver print. COURTESY  New York Public Library.

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a people in the process of transformation and a culture in transition … VanDerZee presented in visual terms the growing sense of personal, and national identity of his sitters, underpinning this is the thoroughly modern sensibility with which he confronted the issue of race.29

Writer  Eudora Welty  (1909–2001) made “snapshots” from the position of an outsider who wanted to fairly represent another group. While working for the Works Progress Administration (WPA), she traveled through Mississippi, her home state and the nation’s poorest, writing articles about the WPA Projects for local newspapers. On her own, Welty acquired a Kodak camera to picture the people she encountered, and upon returning home made prints in her kitchen at night. The merit of Welty’s work is in its human subject matter. Her book, One Time, One Place, Mississippi in the Depression: A Snapshot Album (1971), is not an anthropological study but “a family album” of individuals with whom she was “well positioned [to photograph], moving through the scene openly and yet invisibly because I was part of it, born into it, taken for granted.”30 Welty noted that many of the people she photographed had never had their picture taken before; by photographing them, she was “able to give something back” to her subjects. Pictures like those of the Bird Pageant “were made at the invitation, and under the direction, of its originator… I would not have dared to interfere with the poses.”31 Welty was well aware of the difficulties of photographing outside one’s own group and stated:

EUDORA WELT Y. Baby Bluebird, Bird Pageant, Jackson, MS, circa 1930s. Size varies. Gelatin silver print. Welty learned “a story-writer’s truth: the thing to wait on, to reach there in time for, is the moment in which people reveal themselves… Insight doesn’t happen often on the click of the moment, like a lucky snapshot, but comes in its own time and more slowly and from nowhere but within… My continuing passion, would be not to point the finger in judgment but to part a curtain, that invisible shadow that falls between people, the veil of indifference to each other’s presence, each

In taking all these pictures, I was attended … by an angel—a presence of trust. In particular, the photographs of black persons by a white person may not testify soon again to such intimacy. It is trust that dates the pictures now, more than the vanished years… I was too busy imagining myself into their lives to be open to any generalities.32

other’s wonder, each other’s human plight.”33 COURTESY  © 2024 Eudora Welty, LLC.

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THOMAS BYRNES. The Inspector’s Model, 1884. From Professional Criminals of America, 1886. 11.4 x 7.9 inches. Heliotype. Offenders did not always cooperate with police photographers. In The Inspector’s Model (1884), four men struggle to hold a prisoner so that his picture can be taken as Byrnes, the inspector, looks on. Byrnes described the importance of photographing criminals: “Deception is their business [and] there are many—who carry no suggestion of their calling about them … men who lead double lives.”34 Yet Byrnes also comments: “Is physiognomy any guide? A very poor one. Judge for yourself. Look through the Rogue’s Gallery and see how many rascals you find there who resemble the best people in the country.” COURTESY

Sterling and Francine Clark Art Institute Library, Williamstown, MA.

THE PHYSIO GNOMIC APPROACH

practice and its accompanying data, known as bertillon-age, in 1872.35 By the 1880s, Paris police had 90,000 on file, and the production of photographs for court evidence was standard practice.36  Photographs were displayed in rogues’ galleries and circulated in albums such as Professional Criminals of America (1886) by Thomas Byrnes (1842–1910). Byrnes’s album contained over 200 photographs of important and dangerous criminals along with descriptions of their methods and records. This

From photography’s earliest days, police had hired daguerreotypists to record criminals’ faces. By the 1870s, police mug shots were used for visual identification and in “wanted” posters. French police first used photographs to identify rebels during the revolutionary “Commune of Paris” uprising of 1871, leading Alphonse Bertillon to standardize the

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model became a standard that was followed by law enforcement worldwide. The use of photography and technology by governments hoping to guarantee their own authority and economic interests by isolating and classifying individuals grew in importance during the twentieth century. Contemporary social critics Michel Foucault,37  Allan Sekula, and John Tagg all expressed concerns about photography’s role in controlling people. Tagg has linked the modern police force with industrial capitalism’s need to protect the means of production—labor—from which it draws its profit. He posits that the police use of photography, from photographing speeders to mounting video cameras on lamp posts, provides an overarching way to intimidate and pacify people through “observation-domination” techniques to compile “forms of conduct, attitudes, possibilities, suspicions: a permanent account of an individual’s behaviour.”38 In the twenty-first century it is communist governments, especially China, that are employing techno totalitarianism that utilizes wide-scale surveillance and monitoring to control people’s lives.39 Control can also be exercised though more insidious means. For centuries, Europeans had been fascinated by the physiognomic approach that depicted society through hierarchies of function, position, and trade. Many still believe that body type and facial expression provide a window onto one’s inner moral character and that photography offers an accurate method of revealing these prejudices. The Western belief in positivism went hand in hand with physiognomy. In 1912, August Sander (1876–1964) began a sociological study of the German people by making their portraits. He bicycled through the farming country with his view camera and tripod looking for new subjects, beginning a systematic approach to “collecting” people from German society. Sander’s straightforward, unretouched portraits, generally made at eye-level, used a large lens aperture to convert the landscape

into a neutral setting, similar to a seamless studio backdrop, placing attention on the subject. Sander’s concern for direct representation was shared by the practitioners of the  New Objectivity, whose rationalist beliefs led them to probe beneath the surface in hopes of uncovering universal knowledge. Although World War I had annihilated the idea that civilization was advancing toward a new rational order, survivors still searched for proof of an intrinsic natural order waiting to be uncovered. Sander’s tactics reflected these concerns as well as the institutionalized, medieval social hierarchies that permeated German culture—classifying and containing people within the existing social order. Through precise attention to details of dress, environment, expression, and pose, and a sense for the symbolic, Sander’s “naturalistic” portraits respectfully represent a pictorial sociology of faces. His photographs reveal cultural and economic histories and the struggle to accept the difference between social position and the person who inhabits that position. Sander printed on glossy paper, normally reserved for architectural and technical illustrations, after friends told him it simplified and reduced personal interpretation and made the image more objective. Sander planned to publish a series of books covering his massive project, “Man in the Twentieth Century,” but only the first volume, Antlitz der Zeit  (Face of Our Time), appeared in 1929.40  The Nazis, who used the same physiognomic approach to spread racial hatred, banned the book in 1934, destroyed the printing plates, and seized the negatives, because it revealed a diversity of physical characteristics that did not match their vile genetic mythology. Sander then took up landscape and nature photography. He continued working after World War II, modeling an objective approach to a documentary style that viewed photography as an accurate notary with a humane duty to perform for the social good.

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AUGUST SANDER. Pastry Cook, 1928. 113⁄16 x 815⁄16 inches. Gelatin silver print. Sander concentrated on physiognomy, dress, environment, gesture, and tools of the trade to define his subjects. The resulting portraits were organized by profession and/or social status to arrive at his classification of social types. COURTESY

© 2024 Die Photographische Sammlung/SK Stiftung Kultur—August Sander Archive, Cologne/Artists

Rights Society (ARS), New York.

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THE GREAT DEPRESSION: THE ECONOMICS OF PHOTO GRAPHY

Stryker established a network of publishing contacts to ensure that the images would reach their intended audiences. In the field, photographers developed their film, wrote captions, and sent materials back to Washington for editing, printing, and publication. An unrivaled producer, Stryker maintained the balanced distance between the photographers, bureaucrats, media, and public necessary to implement Tugwell’s idea: “We introduced America to Americans.”42 Stryker summarized what he saw as the difference between his strategy and that of the print media:

In 1935, President Franklin Delano Roosevelt created the Resettlement Administration (RA), headed by former Columbia University economics professor and Undersecretary of Agriculture Rexford G. Tugwell. The RA’s purpose was to aid poor, rural Americans who were uprooted from their tenant farms during the 1930s Depression and forced to move to urban areas and find low-paying, industrial jobs. Tugwell appointed his former student and co-worker, Roy E. Stryker (1893– 1975), as chief of the Historical Section. Stryker’s job included implementing Tugwell’s idea of using photographs to showcase the RA’s work and American rural life in general. The goal was to show urban America a desperate situation and enlist popular support for Roosevelt’s “New Deal” programs of grants, loans, and resettlement money for displaced farmers. Influenced by Lewis Hine, whom he knew from selecting Hine’s photographs to illustrate Tugwell’s textbook,  American Economic Life  (1925), Stryker hired photographers such as Walker Evans, Dorothea Lange, Carl Mydans (1907–2004), and Arthur Rothstein for the project. Depending on funding levels, many other photographers, including Ben Shahn, Russell Lee, Jack Delano (1914–1997), Marion Post Wolcott, John Vachon (1914–1975), John Collier, Jr., Gordon Parks, and Theo Jung (1906–1996), also worked on the project. While the group is generally referred to as the Farm Security Administration (FSA) project, the FSA was not officially organized until 1937, when the Resettlement Administration was absorbed into the Department of Agriculture.41 To carry out the mission, Stryker held briefings, gave reading assignments, conducted critiques, and developed shooting scripts for the field assignments, formulating an official FSA documentary style.

Newspictures are the noun and verb; our kind of photography is the adjective and adverb. The newspicture is a single frame; ours a subject viewed in series. The newspicture is dramatic, all subject and action. Ours show what’s back of the action.43

The middle-class audience at which these pictures were aimed was not aware of the stylized approach and, for the most part, they considered the images accurate documents. The term “documentary” has been consistently and mistakenly applied to informational images, such as identification, legal, police, and scientific pictures, whose purposes are to be neutrally objective by authenticating the existence of specific subjects at a precise place and time.44 Stryker’s intent was to dramatize real subjects in their actual settings, linking them to specific cultural messages so that viewers would formulate a favorable response to the new government programs. His agenda was to be positive and portray rural people working to improve their predicament. Humor and irony appeared while the bizarre and the grotesque were circumvented. Camera angles and distances tended to follow the normal eye-level standards, giving a sense of cooperation and social equality, underlining the idea that the depicted poor were good people experiencing hard times. Overall, the images appear respectful of their subjects, providing a visual counterweight to the negative stereotypes of

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the mass media, such as Erskine Caldwell’s Tobacco Road  (1932) and  God’s Little Acre  (1933), which gave the impression that the rural workers were largely misfits, loafers, and sex fiends. Dorothea Lange’s (1895–1965) FSA photographs epitomized the human cost of the Depression. Lange studied photography with Clarence White at Columbia University before opening a portrait studio in San Francisco in 1916. The Depression awakened Lange’s social consciousness and she began photographing unemployed laborers. A childhood bout with polio left Lange with a permanent limp, possibly increasing her sympathy for circumstances that dramatically alter people’s lives and over which they have no control. By 1933, Lange had quit her commercial work to make photographs of the “forgotten man,” in labor strikes and street demonstrations. A quotation by English philosopher and essayist Francis Bacon, tacked to her darkroom door, became her credo: “The contemplation of things as they are, without substitution or imposture, without error or confusion, is in itself a nobler thing than a whole harvest of invention.”45 Willard Van Dyke, of Group f/64, exhibited Lange’s early socially driven work in his Oakland, California gallery. They were seen by economics professor Paul Taylor, who then hired Lange to illustrate a report recommending the construction of sanitary camps to provide migrant farm families with decent temporary housing. Taylor credited Lange’s emotionally compelling photographs with convincing officials to organize the first camps. After seeing Taylor’s report, Stryker hired Lange for the RA/FSA project, where she made what many, including Stryker, considered the quintessential FSA image:  Migrant Mother, 1936. Echoing the Madonna and child theme from art history, Lange’s archetypal image communicates the essence of a situation and its human relationship to history. Lange took the photograph almost by chance. Speeding home one rainy late winter day, after a cold month of photographing migrant workers, Lange

drove past a crude sign saying “PEA-PICKERS CAMP.” “I didn’t want to stop and didn’t,”46  she later claimed. Twenty miles later she made a U-turn and returned to the camp. Lange wrote: I was following instinct, not reason… I saw and approached the hungry and desperate mother, as if drawn by a magnet  …  she asked no questions… She said they had been living on frozen vegetables from the surrounding fields, and from birds that the children killed. She … seemed to know my pictures might help her, and so she helped me. There was a sort of equality about it… I knew I had recorded the essence of my assignment.47

Lange first took these pictures to a newspaper editor who contacted United Press (UP), which informed the government authorities, who then took action to help. The headline of the March 10, 1936, edition of the San Francisco News proclaimed: “FOOD RUSHED TO STARVING FARM COLONY.” The article contained two of Lange’s images, but not  Migrant Mother. Within a short time, however, the initially overlooked  Migrant Mother took on a life of its own, and was reprinted and exhibited to such an extent that Lange later complained that it was making her into a one-picture photographer.48 After leaving the FSA in 1940, Lange continued to photograph desperate social conditions. While she worked for the War Relocation Authority, Lange created her sympathetic series on the Japanese Americans of the Pacific coast who, in the post-Pearl Harbor hysteria that catapulted America into World War II, were interned in camps by the federal government. Her humanistic series, which were almost entirely suppressed by the U.S. government at the time,49 reveals a person willing to take on unpopular causes. Although poor health prevented Lange from working for a number of years, she photographed several stories for Life in the 1950s. Lange’s compassionate concern to make

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© DOROTHEA LANGE. Migrant Mother, Nipomo, Cal., 1936. Variable dimensions. Gelatin silver print. Stryker called Migrant Mother: “the picture of Farm Security… She [Florence Thompson] has all the suffering of mankind in her but all the perseverance too. A restraint and a strange courage. You can see anything you want to in her. She is immortal.”50 The success of this image overshadowed Lange’s other accomplishments, especially her humanizing of compositional formalism in a documentary style that she employed in other projects with Paul Taylor such as An American Exodus: A Road of Human Erosion (1939). COURTESY  Library of Congress Prints and Photographs

Division, Washington, D.C.

politically and socially driven work collided at times with the narrowness of the photojournalism market of the 1950s, and some of her projects for Life, such as The Public Defender (1956–1957) and  The Last Valley  (1957) essays, were either not published or had their purpose distorted by the editors. From 1958 to 1965, Lange continued freelancing, often with Paul Taylor, whom she had married,  making vital work, modeled on their earlier collaboration, An American Exodus: A Record of Human Erosion, 1939, which presented the relationship of poor rural people and their connection to the earth by combining oral testimony with photographs.

The FSA photographer whose work most profoundly influenced the field of photography was Walker Evans (1903–1975). Evans’s dislike for the materialism of the affluent 1920s led him to cultivate an economy of practice that can be seen in his 1930s series of Victorian and vernacular architecture. His deceptively transparent approach—that this is exactly what viewers would have been drawn to had they been there themselves—uncovers the essence of a place and allows the unexpected beauty of the everyday to reveal itself.51 In the fall of 1935, Stryker hired Evans for his RA/FSA project. Disappearing into the South for weeks, Evans, the only FSA photographer consistently using an 8 × 10-inch view

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© WALKER EVANS. Penny Picture Display, Savannah, 1936. 9¾ × 7 5⁄8 inches. Gelatin silver print. Evans’s style builds on the force of specific, familiar details, transforming them into a universally recognized pattern of accepted facts. Evans could see beneath the surface of the ordinary and uncover the extraordinary without commentary, footnotes, or statistics. His deceptively laconic head-on presentation of the facts, just before what feels like a looming collapse, has influenced how later imagemakers view vernacular architecture and the American Main Street scene of signs and gas stations. COURTESY  The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.

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camera, returned with unheroic, clinical recordings of ignored scenes from a fading regional American culture. The images, unveiled by sentimentality, seem possessed by the photographer’s puritanical objectivity mixed with an edge of pessimism. The works’ understatement offered a testimony of facts, making viewers believe in the power of the plain photograph. Viewers look at how Evans constructed a scene and nod in agreement: “Yes, this is how it is.” Evans’s self-effacing style made the relevance of the ordinary undeniable. He could ordain a moment from the present with a historical perspective, showing the present as if it were the past. In the summer of 1936, Evans collaborated with his writer friend James Agee (1909–1955) on an

article about three tenant cotton farmers in Hale County, AL, for  Fortune magazine. This unlikely New York journalistic duo spent most of August with one of the families, who under the cotton tenantry system did not own the land, the house, or the mule they utilized, and they paid the landlord with half of their crop. Evans and Agee defied accepted working methods, each taking his own approach to the story. Evans rejected fairy tales of the rural South and worked with his subjects to directly represent their dignity in the face of hardship. The resulting images provide a barebones inspection of the inner resources that enabled many suffering people to survive. The compositional economy of the images makes the truth of the situation seem self-evident. Fortune  rejected the piece. Undeterred, Evans and Agee published a vastly expanded version as Let Us Now Praise Famous Men  (1941). The book design itself was remarkable: the first thing a reader encountered was not text but a caption-less portfolio of Evans’s photographs. Also highly unusual was that the photographs were not illustrations. As Agee claimed, the images and words were “coequal, mutually independent, and fully collaborative.”52  The initial critical and public response seemed indifferent at best; first year sales totaled less than 600 copies. In the late 1930s, Evans created a series of anonymous New York subway riders, using a hidden camera. This was eventually published as Many Are Called (1966). These portraits dispense with smiling faces entirely, revealing each person as suspended within his or her own universe. The sequencing of the repeating images replaces the individuality of each person with a sense of exhaustion, similar to the monotonous effect of a subway car rumbling along the track into station after station. In 1945, Evans joined the staff of Fortune, where he became an associate editor before retiring in 1965. His relationship with  Fortune  was both ironic and sad. It marked the end of Evans’s willingness to reveal the view from his privileged position, which shaped the

© WALKER EVANS. Floyd Burroughs, Hale County, Alabama, 1936. 7½ x 8 7⁄16 inches. Gelatin silver print. COURTESY  The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.

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information influential businesspeople gathered to make decisions of enormous environmental and social impact. One of the FSA’s most controversial photographers was  Arthur Rothstein  (1915–1985), who studied under Stryker at Columbia University and then joined the RA/FSA staff from 1935 to 1940. Rothstein’s  Dust Storm, Cimarron County, OK, 1936, an image of a farmer and his two young sons walking against the wind across a field that is buried to the top of fence posts with drifting dirt, became the consummate theatrical interpretation of the Dust Bowl—the prairie states’ loss of unprotected topsoil due to winds and improper farming procedures. Unlike Lange’s images, some of Rothstein’s best work was not “found” but rather constructed on site to make a point. For instance, in May of 1936, while driving through the South Dakota Badlands, Rothstein spotted a steer skull, a victim of the natural forces responsible for the severe weather, lying on the dry, cracked earth. Rothstein made some exposures and then he moved the skull about ten feet and made another exposure. He processed the film and returned it to Washington to be printed. An Associated Press editor printed one of Rothstein’s skull pictures as a symbol of the drought of 1936. The image, with the editor’s caption, “skull of a drought-stricken steer,” received national syndication. Spotting an opportunity to discredit Roosevelt’s farm policies, a North Dakota newspaper ran Rothstein’s skull image with the headline, “It’s A Fake.”53 The story, that Rothstein fabricated the scene, received national coverage. Roosevelt’s opponents latched onto the image as proof that the RA program tricked people into accepting socialist experiments. Cartoons  appeared showing a photographer (Rothstein) wandering the West with a skull under his arm. Stryker was left with the task of convincing people that the RA did not condone the practice of “faking” photographs. Although Stryker encouraged his photographers to find the most compelling way to present their messages, the public had

different expectations. Newspaper readers expected photographers to act only as objective witnesses in their stead—the photographer’s job was to report, not interpret, events. They accepted Lange’s images but rejected Rothstein’s staging as the violation of an implied journalistic trust, even though his intent was not to “fake” a news photograph of a specific drought but to characterize the overall conditions.54  The difficulty arose when specific text was added to an image created as a general statement, thus converting it into a particular instance (after all, how would viewers know that the steer died of drought?). Rothstein’s skull image demonstrates the slipperiness of photographic meaning and how original intent can be shifted without the audience’s awareness through the use of captions, cropping, and placement within a different context. Rothstein’s other “straight” images corroborating the effects of the drought conditions were never questioned. Rothstein went

© ARTHUR ROTHSTEIN. Steer Skull, Badlands, SD, 1936. 12 5⁄8 x 10 5⁄16 inches. Gelatin silver print. COURTESY  Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division Washington, D.C.

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© RUSSELL LEE. Jim Norris and Wife, Homesteaders, Pie Town, New Mexico, 1940. Kodachrome transparency. Lee spent much time living out of his car from the fall of 1936 to mid-1942, crisscrossing America’s back roads, making some 19,000 photographs—more than twice that of any other FSA photographer. Lee arrived in Pie Town in June, 1940, to get something to eat. He left after making about six hundred images that provide an intimate look at the daily happenings of a small desert community. Unusual for the time, many of Lee’s images were made with the vibrant, color reversal Kodachrome film, a subtractive color process that was introduced in 1935. The FSA collection contains 644 color images. COURTESY

Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division Washington, D.C.

on to cofound the American Society of Magazine Photographers in 1941, and he spent his life as a working photojournalist for Look and Parade magazines and as a journalism teacher. To overcome public relations fiascoes like the steer skull incident, Stryker wanted to present a story of “New Deal” communalism that was beyond the scare tactics of the administration’s foes. Stryker found it in Pie Town, NM, an isolated alternative community of about 250 hardworking Dust Bowl homesteaders who cooperated to survive. Russell Lee (1903–1986) sought to detail the intimacy of Pie Town as a frontier experience of church dinners and square dances, a town patterned on a belief in the “American character” of family, church, and enterprise. To record the wealth of natural detail and expression inside people’s homes, Lee chose direct flash. This harsh, unnatural light produced

artless images, thus striking a chord of incorruptibility and honesty that visually emphasized the primary subject of the photograph. But even as Lee constructed this series, he recognized that Pie Town was a fading cultural vestige of pioneer ingenuity and cooperation soon to be overrun by “progress.” In his notes, Lee wondered how long these values would last after electricity and mechanized systems arrived and replaced community sings with radios, and burros and horses with tractors.55  In 1941, Lee spent several weeks with his wife, Jean, photographing the environment of urban African Americans in Chicago as part of an FSA project with the writer Richard Wright, author of Native Son (1940). The project resulted in  Twelve Million Black Voices  (1941), illustrated with numerous Lee and other FSA images of Black life in urban ghettos.

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© BEN SHAHN. Untitled, possibly related to: Family of rehabilitation client, Boone County, Arkansas, 1935. 24 x 36 mm. Nitrate negative. Shahn’s negative had a hole punched in it by FSA staff to indicate that it should not be printed. Of the 270,000 FSA photographs, more than a third were “killed” in this fashion. Most of the negatives Stryker killed were redundancies, rejected in favor of a similar image having stronger composition, sharper focus, and facial expressions that better conveyed the themes of endurance and suffering he sought to project to the intended audiences. Conversely, this physical act poses questions about America’s future in terms of who would be favored and who will be “killed.” COURTESY

Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division Washington, D.C.

Ben Shahn (1898–1969) brought the viewpoint of a painter and non-photographer to the FSA project. An artist who had utilized others’ photographs as models for figures in his paintings of social protest in the 1920s, Shahn learned to use a Leica from his former roommate Walker Evans in the early 1930s. At first, Shahn photographed the growing unease that disrupted societal behaviors on the streets of New York during the Great Depression. In 1935, however, he went to work as an artist for the Special Skills Department of the RA, and he was soon loaned out as a photographer to the Historical Section. His strong opinions on dramatizing social issues helped formulate Stryker’s belief that the RA/FSA images needed to go

beyond visual artifacts and convey empathetic statements informed by a class, economic, racial, and religious awareness. Shahn’s casual approach produced nontraditional, asymmetrical compositions with an emphasis on form, and he encouraged other RA/FSA photographers to consider the ephemeral genuineness of the candid approach. In candid work the subject is supposed to be represented naturally, without interference from the photographer. Shahn cultivated the unposed mode by equipping his camera with a 90-degree right-angle “trick” viewfinder so that he could make snapshots without the subject’s conscious awareness of the camera affecting the outcome. He also often cropped his negatives to arrive at a more satisfactory composition.56

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At a time when segregation was the social norm, Stryker hired African American  Gordon Parks (1912–2006) as a photographer for the FSA project from 1942 to 1943. Stryker recommended that Parks start by exploring Washington, D.C. without a camera. Parks discovered “racism was rampant.” He was refused service in restaurants, thrown out of theaters, and denied service at a wellknown department store where he went to purchase a winter coat. Stryker then advised a humiliated Parks begin at the FSA offices, where he approached a Black woman named Ella Watson who was cleaning the FSA offices. She agreed to be photographed and gave him access to her home and her community over a period of four months. Through Watson, Parks gained an insider’s perspective on the reality of Black life beyond the historical veneer of white Washington, D.C. Stryker employed Parks again for his Standard Oil Company of New Jersey Project in 1945–1948,57  during which time Parks made some of his most unusual images of white corporate culture. With the approach of World War II, Stryker shifted the strategy and themes of the FSA to assert the country’s sense of physical and spiritual plenty. The works of  Marion Post  (1910–1990), who became Marion Post Wolcott when she married in 1941, exemplified these transformations. Post’s photographs of the interaction of nature and society consoled viewers who were tired of seeing people out of work, and who desired scenes where traditional work values were being practiced. This trend of sweeping aside troubling news and concentrating on affirmation would become the hallmark of the 1940s. World War II reversed the economic hardships of the Great Depression. Suddenly, people who might have been in migrant labor camps were in the military, working in war factories, or back on the farm. The FSA expired in 1943, and its photographic activities were absorbed into the Office of War Information (OWI), leaving behind an

© GORDON PARKS. Ella Watson, United States Government Charwoman, Washington, D.C. (a.k.a American Gothic), 1942. Variable dimensions. Gelatin silver print. Parks’s series culminated with this photograph, made with a 4 x 5 inch camera, in which Watson dispassionately posed with a mop and broom in front of the American flag. Symbolically, it depicts an individual’s struggle between the ideal principles of the Bill of Rights and the reality of how racism limits opportunity.58 The composition also connects with the history of American imagemaking by referencing and reinterpreting Grant Wood’s American Gothic (1930) painting of a stern, white midwestern farm couple enduring the hardships following the stock market crash of 1929 that signaled the start of the Great Depression. COURTESY

Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division Washington, D.C.

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© MARION POST WOLCOT T. Young Boys Waiting in the Plantation Store to Be Paid Off for Picking Cotton, Marcella Plantation, Mileston, MS, circa 1939. Variable dimensions. Gelatin silver print. COURTESY  Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division Washington, D.C.

THE FAP PROJECT: CHANGING NEW YORK exhaustive and priceless public archive. Between 1935 and 1943, some 80,000 prints and 200,000 unprinted negatives were produced and made available to editors and publishers at little or no cost, creating a legacy that has determined the country’s vision of the Depression and itself for generations.59

During the 1930s, the documentary approach became the predominant mode for serious American photographers. After working as Man Ray’s assistant and securing Eugène Atget’s photographic estate,  Berenice Abbott  (1898–1991) returned to New York and opened a studio in 1929. She was known for her minimalist portraits, including James Joyce, André Gide, and Peggy Guggenheim,

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LOST WORLDS

which featured dramatic lighting to generate sinister-looking shadows behind the sitter. Affected by Atget’s unadorned realism, Abbott embarked on a straight-ahead photographic record of New York City that took one’s eye directly to the heart of the subject matter. She supported this project through commercial work and teaching until 1935 when she gained funding from the Federal Arts Project (FAP) of the Works Progress Administration. Abbott sustained one of the few government-sponsored urban documentary projects over four years by fusing the earnestness of Atget with the playfulness of her Parisian modernist experience. Abbott deployed her 8 × 10-inch camera from a multitude of viewpoints, and cropped prints in her effort to manifest the chaotic and complex relationships between people and a great city. Her book,  Changing New York  (1939),60  astringently and humorously contrasts the relationship of beauty and decay within an urban environment. Abbott also promoted the documentary stance by championing Atget’s work61 and helping to arrange a retrospective of Lewis Hine’s work.

During the 1930s, other photographers such as  Roman Vishniac  (1897–1990) produced a visual record of impoverished Jewish life in the ghettos of Eastern Europe between 1936 and 1939. His employer, The American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee, planned to use the images to raise funds for relief efforts. Instead his photographs would become an iconic link to the Jewish/ Yiddish culture that was systematically destroyed by the Nazi Holocaust. To create his photographs, Vishniac chose a hidden camera, both to avoid charges of spying and because many Orthodox Jews would not permit having their picture taken. Vishniac managed to preserve about 2,000 of these photographs, hidden by himself and his family and smuggled into America by way of Cuba. The final result of his work appeared in his book, A Vanished World  (1983). He also made significant scientific contributions to the fields of photomicrography and time-lapse photography. Mike Disfarmer (1884–1959) operated a photographic studio in his hometown of Heber Spring, AK, where he made portraits of the local community. The images that he sold in the community, for between 25 to 50 cents, have been acclaimed by critics as art after his death and have brought much higher prices on the art market. Born Mike Meyer (Meyer came to denote a tenant farmer in German), he changed his surname to “Disfarmer” (not a farmer) perhaps rebelling against his family’s agrarian origins after a tornado killed his mother around 1930. Disfarmer also claimed that he was taken from his real birthplace and deposited on his parents’ doorstep by a tornado. He was known as a reclusive, odd duck, who never married and lived in the back of his studio that he kept open seven days a week. Such a persona made him both a local insider, who knew everyone, and an idiosyncratic outsider who did not operate like a typical small town photographer. Thus, he was able to break down his

© BERENICE ABBOT T. Gunsmith and Police Department, 6 Centre Market Place, February 4, 1937. 8 × 10 inches. Gelatin silver print. COURTESY  New York Public Library.

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ROMAN VISHNIAC. Granddaughter and Grandfather, Warsaw, circa 1935–1938. 16 × 20 inches. Gelatin silver print. The Nazis’ rise to power and the accompanying antisemitism prompted Vishniac to document the Jewish ghettos of Eastern Europe on the eve of the Holocaust. The surviving 2,000 candid images provide evidence of people, places, and traditions that were forcibly erased on an industrial scale. Vishniac managed to get out of a French deportation camp and make his way to America in 1941, where he continued his scientific work with his photomicrography and time-lapse cinemamicrography of small animals, insects, and plants. © Mara Vishniac Kohn COURTESY

International Center of Photography, New York.

customer’s facades and/or project his internal visualizations onto his subjects. His assistant said he actively posed his subjects insisting: “‘You stand over here, you look this way or you look that’ [way], and he wouldn’t be nice.”62  As his work evolved, his portrait settings became more minimalistic, stripped away of unnecessary details. By generating a penetrating state of plainness and humility, his

depictions toggled between solemn realism and an enigmatic intimacy of daydreaming. In this manner, Disfarmer clearly represented his subjects in a way that they could not see themselves. Collectively, his direct portraits, using glass-plate negatives that were contact printed, offer a familiar and perceptive sense of the people who made up this small, rural society from the 1920s through the 1950s. The

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THE PHOTO BO OTH : SELF-PORTRAITS FOR ALL Until the late 1920s, people were accustomed to getting dressed-up and going to a photography studio to have a “directed” picture made. In the pursuit of increased speed and profitability, inventors worked to engineer a machine that would permit people to make their portraits on their own terms. The first automated photography apparatus was patented in 1889 by Mathew Stiffens, and that same year Monsieur Enjalbert demonstrated a similar contraption at the Exposition Universelle in Paris, France. Neither machine was dependable enough to be self-sufficient. The breakthrough came in the fall of 1926, when a Jewish inventor from Siberia named Anatol Josepho (shortened from Josephewitz) (1894–1980) opened the first successful “dip ’n’ dunk” wet-process photo booth concession in New York’s Times Square in which film is hung from racks or placed in reels and dipped into a dunk tank filled with processing chemicals in order to be developed. Known as the Photomaton, it was an instant hit and quickly called “Broadway’s greatest quarter-snatcher.” For 25 cents everyone from New York’s Governor “Al” Smith to the butcher, the baker, and the light bulb maker took their turn in the Broadway shop. In April 1927, Time magazine reported that 280,000 customers had posed and waited the eight minutes it took to process a strip of eight small photos. The Photomaton spread to arcades, amusement parks, bus depots, fairs, and five-and-ten cent stores across the country. It was such a marvel that by March 1927 a business consortium paid Mr. Josepho $1 million for the American rights to his invention. The following year, the European rights were sold.  Very quickly Surrealists André Breton, Luis Buñuel, and Salvador Dalí all posed for photo booth portraits with their eyes closed, suggesting they were dreaming, which reflected

MIKE DISFARMER. Soldier with Two Girls in Polka Dot Dresses, 1943. 7 x 5 inches. Gelatin silver print. COURTESY  © Peter Miller/Disfarmer.

prints display similar attributes to those that people find engrossing in the FSA photographers’ works. When examined outside of their original context, Disfarmer’s portrayals, resembling a naive, mysterious, freewheeling blend of August Sander, Grant Wood’s  American Gothic  (1930), Irving Penn, and Diane Arbus, inadvertently pay tribute to a valuable cultural service performed by small town photographers everywhere. Perhaps more than anyone else, such photographers documented everyday people who otherwise would have been forgotten.

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UNKNOWN PHOTOGRAPHER, Mother and Daughter, circa 1925. 1¼ × 3½ inches. Gelatin silver print. COURTESY  Collection of Jack & Beverly Wilgus.

Breton’s belief that dreams were the conduit to the unconscious. Competition in the “personal photography” market was immediate. Initially attendants in white smocks and gloves took patrons’ money, suggested poses, cut the strips into individual photos, and sold extras including color tinting and frames. Curtains were added later, which invited immediate self-portraiture because once the curtain is drawn, one is removed from the rest of the world. The photo booth became an intimate, private studio in a public place where people felt free to act out their quixotic fantasies, make funny faces, and occasionally indulge in risqué poses. Beyond its amusement value, the machine became a source of portraits for chauffeurs’ licenses, passports, and other forms of identification.63 Photo booths reached their height of popularity during World War II when American military men heading overseas and their girlfriends wanted likenesses to exchange as forget-me-nots. In the 1960s, Andy Warhol utilized photo booths to take portraits, including his own, which were then enlarged and incorporated into his art. Since then, numerous artists have practiced “photo-boothery” to make work, with many shows and books written about the practice. Digital photo booths made it possible

to put your face onto the body of a cartoon character and send the results to a smartphone, as well as producing variants like photo stickers and postcards. Today the physical photo booth has been replaced by the smartphone selfie and digital photo booth apps with numerous effects.

MASS -OBSERVATION Another distinctive project undertaken during the Depression years was carried out by Mass-Observation, a group that incorporated documentary photography, anthropology, socialism, and surrealism. Mass-Observation, founded in 1936 by journalist and poet Charles Madge (1912–1996), observed and studied British society to learn its true feelings about issues such as the Abdication Crisis of 1936 (when Edward VIII gave up the throne to marry American divorcée Wallis Simpson). Madge was joined by filmmaker Humphrey Jennings (1907–1950) and by ornithologist and anthropologist Tom Harrisson (1911–1976), who had studied cannibals in Borneo and wanted to show comparisons between their  culture and his own. Among other things, the group was interested in

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HUMPHREY SPENDER. Wash on the Lines, Bolton, 1937. 9¼ × 13½ inches. Gelatin silver print. Unlike the Farm Security Administration project, Mass-Observation was not interested in putting an affirmative face on things. Tom Harrisson thought it was important to include unobserved photography in his methodology because he “distrusted the value of mere words.”64 Humphrey Spender had difficulty with this style because it eliminated human interaction between the photographer and the subject. COURTESY  © Bolton Council from the Bolton Museum collections, Bolton, England.

In 1937 photojournalist  Humphrey Spen­ der  (1910–2005) joined the Mass-Observation group to photograph the working-class cotton mill town of Bolton, England (referred to as Worktown), where Harrisson had moved and disguised himself as a worker in order to become an inside observer. Harrisson loosely directed Spender to use hidden 35mm cameras, making him an “unobserved observer,” to make secret pictures of people in public places carrying out various activities so that things could “speak for themselves”: housing conditions, industry, and leisure, political, religious, and social activities. With the outbreak of World War II, Mass-Observation supplied information on homefront morale to the Ministry of Information and eventually became a for-profit research center.

chance occurrences, how the juxtaposition of different types of events could disturb the status quo and how individuals interpreted the same event differently. By the end of 1937, their ethnographic undertaking involved more than 500 people keeping detailed diaries of everything they did on the twelfth day of each month throughout the year. Other volunteers acted as living “subjective cameras,” doing “continuous observation” to collect a mass of data for future studies that science would use to “build new hypotheses and theories.” They also asked participants to make snapshots of their daily lives and send them in with their written diaries. The theme of these activities was a search for identity during the time of the crumbling British Empire, a project in which everyday people reported what their society looked like to them.

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© SID GROSSMAN. Coney Island, 1947. 7 7⁄8 × 8 inches. Gelatin silver print. COURTESY  Howard Greenberg Gallery, New York.

THE FILM AND PHOTO LEAGUE

classes. In 1936, the organization’s filmmakers split over aesthetic and social issues. The still photographers regrouped under the leadership of  Sidney Grossman (1913–1955) and Sol Libsohn (1914– 2001) to form a self-supporting Photo League as a meeting place, gallery, and education site. The Photo League promoted the sanctity of the straight image and the belief that photography needed to serve a social-political purpose. During the 1930s, under the direction of Aaron Siskind (1903– 1991), members of the Photo League’s Feature

The Film and Photo League was originally part of the cultural propaganda wing of the Workers’ International Relief, a leftist strikers’ aid group in Berlin that supported Workers’ Camera Leagues in European and American cities. By 1934, the American group had evolved into the New York Film and Photo League, known for its propaganda films on social injustice and its documentary film

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Group spent three years  covering New York’s vibrant Black community, producing the  Harlem Document  (1938–1940). Disputes with League members over his growing interest in formal aesthetics led to Siskind’s leaving the organization in 1941. He continued his contemplative work and eventually joined the Abstract Expressionist movement (see Chapter 15). Grossman provided the driving force between 1938 and 1949 for the ideals of the politically conscious Photo League, where the officers, teachers, and speakers donated their time. The League was the site for photography exhibitions at a time when very few art museums or galleries would show photographs. In December 1947, the United States Attorney General’s office included the Photo League on its list of “Totalitarian, Fascist, Communist, and Subversive Organizations.” Grossman, a member of the Communist Party, was blacklisted. In an effort to save the League, Grossman resigned from the organization. Paradoxically, by the late 1940s the League attracted photographic talents without Marxist agendas, including Ansel Adams, Beaumont and Nancy Newhall, Barbara Morgan, Edward Weston, and Richard Avedon. But the blacklist’s threat of lost livelihood and the growing public hysteria that accompanied Senator Joseph McCarthy’s frenzied Communist witch hunts (1950‒1954) led to the League’s collapse in 1951, leaving a spiritual black hole for those who wanted to unite photography and social change. Faced with the repression of intellectual freedom under McCarthyism’s vociferous accusations in the 1950s, many American photographers shifted their position from work that called for social action to a more inner, highly personal approach. The Photo League’s social activism would not manifest itself again in the photographic community until the civil rights struggles of the 1960s. The conclusion of World War II with the dropping of two atomic bombs on Japan, the immediate transformation of the U.S.S.R. from a pseudo ally

into a hostile foe with the start of the Cold War, and the explosive growth of the postwar economy shifted American concerns from the social issues of the Great Depression to those of materialism and nationalism. With this realignment, the socially conscious documentary practice supported by government funding was replaced by corporate models like Life magazine, which orchestrated cultural needs with its own commercial interests (see Chapter 14). Government funding for photographic projects would only reappear in a smaller form in times of crisis, such as immediately after the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001 on the World Trade Towers and the Pentagon.65

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Tenements appeared in New York when old houses were subdivided into small rooms and rented to immigrants. During Riis’s time they evolved into four- to six-story apartment houses with tiny, often unventilated, dark rooms. Typically four families occupied a floor, each having one or two dark bedrooms about 6½ × 7 feet, a 10 × 12-foot living area, and a communal kitchen, hall, and stairway. Charles A. Mason, Preface to the Dover Reprint Edition, Jacob A. Riis, How The Other Half Lives: Studies Among the Tenements of New York  (New York: Dover, 1971), vi. The term muckrake comes from John Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress (1678–1684) and was used in a speech by President Theodore Roosevelt in 1906. The name muckraker was applied to American critics, journalists, and novelists who exposed corruption in business and politics at the turn of the twentieth century and called for social reform. They included Sinclair Lewis, Lincoln Steffens, and Ida M. Tarbell. Jacob A. Riis, How the Other Half Lives: Studies Among the Tenements of New York, reprint (New York: Dover Publications, 1971), 30. “Flashes from the Slums: Pictures Taken in Dark Places by the Lightning Process,” The Sun (New York), February 12, 1888. Reprinted in Beaumont Newhall, ed., Photography: Essays and Images (NewYork: Museum of Modern Art, 1980), 155–57.

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The settlement movement was a reformist social movement that started in the 1880s and peaked around the 1920s in England and the U.S. Its goal was to interconnect different classes of society by providing educational, recreational, and other social services to large city communities. Jacob A. Riis, How the Other Half Lives: Studies Among the Tenements of New York  (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1890), 106. The halftones did not do justice to the photographs, causing the work to be neglected until the original plates were rescued by Alexander Allard who made new prints and began exhibiting them in 1947. Pamela Reeves,  Ellis Island: Gateway to the American Dream (New York: Dorset Press, 1991), 134. Lewis Hine, “Social Photography, How the Camera May Help in the Social Uplift.” Proceedings, National Conference of Charities and Corrections  ( June 1909), in Alan Trachtenberg, ed.,  Classic Essays on Photography  (New Haven, CT: Leet’s Island Books, 1980), 111. For more on this subject see: Alison Nordstrom and Elizabeth McCausland, Lewis Hine (New York: D.A.P./ Distributed Art Publishers 2012). Alan Trachtenberg, “Ever—the Human Document,”  America and Lewis Hine: Photographs 1904–1940 (Millerton, NY: Aperture, 1977), 133. Lewis Hine, “The Spirit of Industry,” Introduction to Men at Work (New York: The Macmillan Co., 1932), unp. Horatio Alger, Jr.,  Ragged Dick, 203, quoted in James Guimond, “Lewis Hine and American Industrialism,”  American Photography and the American Dream  (Chapel Hill, NC: The University of North Carolina Press, 1991), 74. Hine, “Social Photography,” 111. Curtis thought he had no time to lose as a then recent census estimated the Native American population at 237,000, down from possibly 10 million four centuries earlier. Entire tribes, languages, and traditions were vanishing. Curtis worked 16-hour days, seven days a week, nearly nonstop for 30 years to complete the work, which was personally ruinous: It led to his bankruptcy, likely ruined his marriage, and nearly got him killed several times. After he lost the copyright of all his photographs to Gilded Age banker John Pierpont Morgan, Curtis died in obscurity, broke and nearly blind, in a seedy Los Angeles apartment.

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the Tuskegee Institute (1881), an early Black educational institution, and author of Up from Slavery (1901). Other artists, such as Carrie Mae Weem in The Hampton Project (2000), have engaged and taken inspiration from this body of work. Most of Germany’s film community was forced to flee when Hitler was elected chancellor in 1933. Riefenstahl remained and was given carte blanche by Hitler to make a motion picture of the 1934 Nuremberg Party Convention. The result was her brilliant and inflammatory propaganda film, Triumph of the Will (1935), banned by the Allies even after the end of World War II. For a discussion about the Storyville work, see John Szarkowski, ed.,  E. J. Bellocq: Storyville Portraits: Photographs from the New Orleans Red-Light District, circa 1912 (New York: Museum of Modern Art, 1970). Also see the revised edition with an introduction by Susan Sontag (New York: Random House, 1996), and Janet Malcom, “The Real Thing,”  The NewYorker, vol. XLIV, no. 1 ( January 9, 1997), 12, 14–16. Drawn into a cultural movement known as  Mexicanidad, which realigned Mexico’s national identity with its ancient and indigenous cultural rather than its more recent colonial past, Modotti engaged in revolutionary political activities in the early 1920s, joined the Mexican Communist Party in 1927, was deported in 1930, and later went to the Soviet Union. From the very beginnings of photography onward, writers have noted the democratizing quality of the medium. In Andrew E. Hershberger, ed.,  Photographic Theory: An Historical Anthology  (Boston, MA and Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell, 2014), see, for example: Nathaniel Parker Willis and Timothy O. Porter, eds., “The Pencil of Nature. A New Discovery” (1839), 44–47; A. D. Coleman, “The Directorial Mode: Notes Toward a Definition” (1976), 276–83, esp. p. 278; Vilém Flusser, “The Photograph as Post-Industrial Object: An Essay on the Ontological Standing of Photographs” (1986), 290–93; and Ellen Handy, “Fixing the Art of Digital Photo­graphy: Electronic Shadows” (1998), 344–49, esp. p. 349. Letter to Weston, July 7, 1925; cited in Amy Stark, ed.,  The Letters from Tina Modotti to Edward Weston (Tucson, AZ: Center for Creative Photography, 1986), 39–40. See Peggy Albright,  Crow Indian Photographer: The Work of Richard Throssel (Albuquerque, NM: University of New Mexico Press, 1997).

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26 Linda Poolaw,  War Bonnets, Tin Lizzies, and Patent

41 For a history of the FSA, see F. Jack Hurley, Portrait of

Leather Pumps: Kiowa Culture in Transition, 1925–1955. The Photographs of Horace Poolaw, October 5–December 14, 1990 (Stanford, CA: Stanford University, 1990), 13. Lucy R. Lippard, ed., Partial Recall: Photographs of Native North Americans  (New York: The New Press, 1992), Introduction, 27. Telephone conversation between Donna VanDerZee and author, February 2, 1999. Deborah Willis-Braithwaite,  James VanDerZee, Photographer 1886–1983  (New York: Harry Abrams in association with The National Portrait Gallery, Smithsonian Institution, 1993), 10. See also Willis’s article “Visualizing Memory: Photographs and the Art of Biography” (2003), in Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 412–14. Ibid., 4. Ibid. Ibid., 6 Eudora Welty,  One Time, One Place, Mississippi in the Depression: A Snapshot Album  (New York: Random House, 1971), 7–8. Thomas Byrnes, Professional Criminals of America (New York: Cassell and Company, 1886), 54. For additional information on the taxonomic uses of photography, see Allan Sekula, “The Body and the Archive,” in Richard Bolton, ed., The Contest of Meaning: Critical Histories of Photography  (Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press, 1989), 342–89. Heinz K. Henisch and Bridget A. Henisch,  The Photographic Experience 1839–1914: Images and Attitudes  (University Park, PA: The Pennsylvania State University Press, 1994), 300–3. See Michel Foucault,  Discipline and Punish: The Birth of the Prison, trans. A. Sheridan (London: Allen Lane, 1977). John Tagg, “A Means of Surveillance” in  The Burden of Representation (Minneapolis, MN: University of Minnesota Press, 1993), 74. Paul Mozur, Muyi Xiao, and John Liu,“An Invisible Cage: How China Is Policing the Future,” June 27, 2022, Section A, 1, www.nytimes.com/2022/06/25/technology/china-surveillance-police.html?searchResultPosition=2 The complete work was envisioned as forty-five portfolios containing twelve photographs each. Sander wanted to present mankind as a cycle, with a moralistic hierarchy, centering on the roles men and women played in society.

a Decade: Roy Stryker and the Development of Documentary Photography in the Thirties  (Baton Rouge, LA: Louisiana State University Press, 1972). Roy Emerson Stryker and Nancy Wood, In This Proud Land: America 1935–1943 as Seen in the FSA Photographs  (Greenwich, CT: New York Graphic Society, 1973), 73. The words “documentary” and “documentary style” have also been debated in relation to journalistic photographs, to Holocaust photographs, and to art photographs. In Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, see, for example: Fred Ritchin, “Photojournalism in the Age of Computers” (1990), 329–33, esp. p. 332; Mike Weaver, “Clement Greenberg and Walker Evans: Transparency and Transcendence” (1991), 378–81; and Sharon Sliwinski, “A Painful Labour: Responsibility and Photography” (2004), 370–76. Lange first used the Bacon quote on a change of address announcement and later on a Christmas card. Quoted in David Travis, “Ephemeral Truths” in Sarah Greenough et al., On the Art of Fixing a Shadow: One Hundred and Fifty Years of Photography (Washington, D.C.: National Gallery of Art, 1989), 248. Dorothea Lange, “The Assignment I’ll Never Forget,”  Popular Photography, vol. 46, no. 2 (February 1960), 42, 126. Also reprinted in Newhall, Photography: Essays and Images (1980), 262–65 with all six exposures. Ibid. Roy Emerson Stryker and Nancy Wood, In This Proud Land: America 1935–1943 as Seen in the FSA Photographs, 8. Here Stryker anticipates a later claim made by photographer David Wojnarowicz in his essay, “Do Not Doubt the Dangerousness of the 12-Inch-Tall Politician” (1991), in Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 356–58. “To me,” Wojnarowicz stated, “photographs are like words and I generally will place many photographs together or print them one inside the other in order to construct a free-floating sentence that speaks about the world I witness. History is made and preserved by and for particular classes of people. A camera in some hands can preserve an alternate history” (p. 358). Marilyn Turkovich, “Dorothea Lange: Photographer for the War Relocation Authority,”  Voices of Compassion Education, May 31, 2011. http:// voiceseducation.org/content/dorothea-lange-photographer-war-relocation-authority. Also see:  Dorothea Lange: Grab A Hunk of Lightning, World War II: The

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Internment of Japanese-Americans. www.pbs.org/wnet/ americanmasters/dorothea-lange-world-war-iithe-internment-of-japanese-americans/3205/ For a chronicle of this image see Vicki Goldberg,  The Power of Photography: How Photographs Changed Our Lives (New York: Abbeville Press, 1991), 136–42. Stryker and Wood, In This Proud Land, 73. For more on the quality of transparency in Evans’s photographs, see Mike Weaver, “Clement Greenberg and Walker Evans: Transparency and Transcendence” (1991), in Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 378–81. James Agee and Walker Evans, Let Us Now Praise Famous Men:Three Tenant Families. Reprint with new introduction by John Hershey (Boston, MA: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1988), Preface xlvii. Fargo Forum  (August 27, 1936) quoted in F Jack Hurley, Portrait of a Decade, Roy Stryker and the Development of Documentary Photography in the Thirties (Baton Rouge, LA: Louisiana State University Press, 1972), 88. Conversations between Arthur Rothstein and the author, January 26–28, 1979. As referred to in James Guimond, American Photography and the American Dream, 132. These notes are located in Library of Congress, microfilm lot 639M, item no. 36715D. For the fullest description of post-visualization theory in photography, see Jerry Uelsmann, “Post-Visualization” (1967), in Hershberger, ed.,  Photographic Theory, 232–34. For background information about this project see Steven W. Plattner, Roy Stryker: USA, 1943–1950: The Standard  Oil  (New Jersey)  Photography Project  (Austin, TX: University of Texas Press, 1983). All the FSA work is owned by the U.S. government and inexpensive prints can be ordered from the Library of Congress. Many images are available on their website: www.loc.gov/pictures/collection/fsa Details about this image at: Library of Congress, “Ella Watson United States Government Charwoman,” www.loc.gov/collections/fsa-owi-black-and-whitenegatives/articles-and-essays/documenting-america/ ella-watson-united-states-government-charwoman/ All the FSA work is owned by the U.S. government and inexpensive prints can be ordered from the Library of Congress. Many images are available on their website: www.loc.gov/pictures/collection/fsa For a comparison of then and now, see Douglas Levere et al.,  New York Changing: Revisiting Berenice Abbott’s

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New York (Princeton, NJ: Princeton Architectural Press, 2004). For Abbott’s Atget-inspired manifesto on straight photography and strongly worded dismissal of pictorialist manipulations, see her “Photography at the Crossroads” (1951), reprinted in Hershberger, ed.,  Photographic Theory, 150–53. Richard B. Woodward, “American Metamorphosis: Disfarmer and the Art of Studio Photography” in Disfarmer: The Vintage Prints  (New York: powerHouse Books, 2005), 204. Näkki Goranin,  American Photobooth  (New York/ London: W. W. Norton & Co., 2008). As quoted in Deborah Frizzell,  Humphrey Spender’s Humanist Landscapes: Photo-Documents, 1932–1942  (New Haven, CT: Yale Center for British Art, 1997), 26. See, for example, Liam Kennedy, “Remembering September 11: Photography as Cultural Diplomacy” (2003), in Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 415–20.

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CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Catching Time

ANTICIPATING THE MOMENT

the majority of photographic practice throughout this time period. By the start of the twentieth century, the technology for taking time prisoner had become simple enough that even a childlike  Jacques-Henri Lartigue (1894–1986) could use it to offer his version of life. Lartigue was an affluent amateur, one with the freedom to observe without concern for posterity or the public, who now had the means to record life’s commonplace details from a personal point of view. His instinctively ebullient images captured his enchanted and privileged childhood, a time when he tested new inventions, including automobiles, bicycles, and airplanes, and showed how these new technologies quickly altered that epoch. Beginning with a view camera at age seven, Lartigue soon convinced his father to buy him a hand camera so he could pursue his child’s point of view, like putting the camera on the floor to record his toy racing cars. Hand cameras made it easier and less financially risky to make conscious experimental decisions, as when Lartigue balanced his camera on a plank of wood extended over a bathtub to picture himself and his toy water glider. For Lartigue, photography’s new simplicity linked it to childhood play, “a magic thing with all sorts of mysterious smells, a bit strange and frightening,”3  an arena of visual pleasure. During France’s peaceful, optimistic, cultural renaissance, “La Belle Époque” (circa

For most of the nineteenth century photographers had worked with extended time exposures that required forethought and the cooperation of the subject or a fixed subject, such as a still life. As film sensitivity increased, newly invented shutters capable of isolating units of time in fractions of a second allowed photographers to control brief exposures. By the close of the nineteenth century, changes in artistic, philosophical, and scientific thinking about how time was measured and portrayed, along with developments in technology-based, mass-production methods, made it possible to gauge, see, and think about time in ways that were formerly unimaginable. The actualization of Herschel’s notion of the snapshot,1 along with the handheld camera, allowed photographers to define previously undetectable moments of life. This change enhanced the democratic nature of the hand camera by further expanding the range of vernacular subject matter, from loved ones to streetcars, that thoughtful photographers like Stieglitz began to incorporate into their visual thinking.2 The hand camera cemented the most popularly cherished concept of twentieth-century practice: nabbing a precise instant from the flow of time. This ability to rapidly distill complicated activities would define

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JACQUES-HENRI LARTIGUE. Theo Schneider Automobile, Le Grand Prix A.C.F., 1913. 4½ × 6¾ inches. Gelatin silver print. © Ministère de la Culture-France/Association des Amis de J.H. Lartigue, Paris.

1871–1914), young Lartigue’s snapshots collected the amusements and fragile beauties available to the well-to-do just  before this well-bred world disappeared into the bloody abyss of World War I. Lartigue’s albums chronicle a fascination with the motion and speed that was transforming the world and providing new aesthetics. The ease of the handheld camera allowed almost anybody to embrace the physical act of seeing subjects and photographing them as they moved through time. Lartigue took his large handheld camera everywhere, eventually deforming his shoulder from carrying it. His intuitive images reveal and confirm what serious photographers struggled to discover and master: the expertise of anticipation. He was obsessed with

capturing the peak moment of action where critical timing was achieved through observation and calculation. His most advanced Block Note camera had a top shutter speed of 1/300th of a second, making his decision when to release the shutter crucial. Pushing the shutter at the moment the image was seen would be too late, due to the mechanical and physiological delay between seeing and exposing. Lartigue compared it to playing tennis—one had to foresee the exact moment beforehand and have the ability and training to act without consciously thinking. This manner of anticipating and capturing a scene’s essential meaning would later be refined and codified in Henri Cartier-Bresson’s Decisive Moment (later in this chapter). As a child Lartigue

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appeared as an unthreatening spectator, and this allowed him to glide into situations and uncover unguarded instances of highly complex, fleeting human interrelations. Although he never received any formal photography training, through persistent practice Lartigue learned how to use the camera to organize the random attributes of life with coherence and clarity. However, Lartigue’s work did not influence the photographic practice of his time. His childhood photographs remained unknown to the public until they were presented at the Museum of Modern Art (MoMA) in 1963. During the early decades of the twentieth century, gradually improving films and better lenses allowed the camera to evolve into a truly miniature machine. Technological breakthroughs in camera design placed an imagemaking system at the fingertips of any photographer who wanted to participate in the expanded uses and markets of the medium. By eliminating technical obstacles, the hand camera permitted photographers to be in the flow of events as they unfolded, trapping moments in time, instead of being outside and having to forge happenings for the sake of the camera. The adoption of miniature cameras was slow, but in 1924 the Ernox (later Ermanox) made clear the future of hand cameras. Claiming “What You Can See, You Can Photograph,” it had shutter speeds up to 1/1000 of a second and a fast f/2 lens, and it made exposures on either individual dry plates or sheets of film. For those who favored miniature cameras, the most desirable models utilized 35mm roll film, the standard stock for movie studios. By the mid1910s, a few still production cameras, notably the Simplex and the Tourist Multiple, used 35mm film. The most famous remains the “Ur-Leica,” a prototype (only two or three examples exist) that was invented about 1913 by Oskar Barnack (1879– 1936) of the E. Leitz Optical Works in Wetzlar, Germany. However, the much-transformed Leica A was not marketed to the public until 1925.

Utilizing a 24 × 36mm film frame, the Leica A was smaller and lighter than folding hand cameras and it allowed photographers rapidly and unobtrusively to make up to forty exposures without reloading. Faster, high-definition, and interchangeable lenses followed, as did the built-in  coupled rangefinder, which permitted photographers to focus quickly by aligning overlapping images into a single frame. Kodak introduced the coupled rangefinder with the 3A Autographic Special + Rangefinder in 1916, ensuring sharper images by eliminating the need to guess the focusing distance. In 1932, the coupled rangefinder started becoming a built-in feature of most 35mm cameras, appearing on both the original Zeiss Ikon Contax and the Leica II. The miniature camera leveled longstanding societal rules about private and public spaces and events, disregarding social position and thereby making everyone more or less equal. In 1927, Erich Salomon  (1886–1944) concealed a miniature camera to make pictures of a murder trial inside a courtroom where photography was forbidden. These images aroused enough notice that Salomon quit his job and began to make unposed, available-light photographs of celebrities, concerts, diplomats, politicians, social gatherings, and theater presentations with a miniature camera. By 1929, an editor for The London Graphic  coined the phrase  candid camera/ photograph, in reference to Salomon’s ability to capture unguarded moments. Referring to himself as a “historian with a camera,”4  Salomon brought the camera into social realms where it had been prohibited. By means of silent shutters and cable releases, Salomon’s camera (he switched to a Leica in 1932), hidden in his hat, a valise, or a potted plant, informed people of cultural events and ways in which the powerful carried out their business beyond public scrutiny. Salomon commented on the adrenaline rush of making such images: “The work of a photojournalist is a constant battle, a battle for the picture, and as in hunting, he gets his game only if he has an obsession for the chase.”5

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of interjecting a camera into strangers’ lives during moments of extreme stress has become the staple of numerous television docudramas, and continues to blur the line between the public’s right to be informed and an individual’s right to privacy. The death of British Princess Diana in 1997, while being chased by the tabloid press, produced cries for legislation to restrict photographers’ freedom to photograph any person, anyplace, anytime. In 1998 a law (the Quebec Charter of Human Rights and Freedoms), was passed in Quebec, Canada, which banned photographers from taking pictures of people in public situations without their written permission.6 Now, with people daily posting billions of personal images on social media, privacy has been redefined. Salomon’s images continue to be of historical interest, but their capacity to excite has faded with the loss of novelty and social context. Designed to inhabit a print environment that provided supplemental information through a caption, when seen today, removed from the circumstances of time and page, many appear mundane and merely point to the transient nature of photographic impact and meaning. The photograph’s chameleon-like ability to possess numerous interpretations, instead of a single fixed one, led critic Walter Benjamin to observe:

© ERICH SALOMON. Madame Elena Vacarescu (detail), 1928. 4-15⁄16 x 6-15⁄16 inches. Gelatin silver print. Elena Vacarescu (1864–1947) was a Romanian-French aristocrat writer, who was twice a laureate of the Académie française. Vacarescu was a Substitute Delegate to the League of Nations from 1922 to 1924. She was a permanent delegate from 1925 to 1926. She was again a Substitute Delegate to the League of Nations from 1926 to 1938 and the only woman to serve with the rank of ambassador in the history of the League of Nations. COURTESY  Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.

A collection of Salomon’s candid photographs was published as Berühmte Zeitgenossen in unbewachte Augenblicken  (Celebrated Contemporaries in Unguarded Moments), 1931. The public demand for these “extraordinary” pictures would, through repetition, lead them to become ordinary. During a period when Germany was newly experiencing democracy, what was striking was how “normal” and unremarkable the people who made important decisions looked in the photographs. The small camera showed the human connections between the statesman and the average citizen, re-scaling the former in ways unseen prior to its use. The flash attack style of Italy’s paparazzi epitomized the practice of making images without a subject’s consent, as portrayed in Federico Fellini’s film  La Dolce Vita  (1960). Such paparazzi aggressively “stole” people’s images. This strategy

The camera will become smaller and smaller, more and more prepared to grasp fleeting, secret images whose shock will bring the mechanism of association in the viewer to a complete halt. At this point captions must begin to function, captions which understand the photography which turns all the relations of life into literature, and without which all photographic construction must remain bound in coincidences… Will not captions become the essential component of pictures?7

In 1933 Salomon fled Nazi Germany and settled in the Netherlands, where he worked with a miniature camera to present a behind-the-scenes look at social activities that were not overtly political. As his interest in celebrities and news value gave way to

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ANDRÉ KERTÉSZ. Satiric Dancer, 1926. 9¾ × 7¾ inches. Gelatin silver print. Kertész utilized the Leica to capture “people in motion . . . the moment when something changes into something else.” This image was created in sculptor István Beöthy’s Paris studio, who was a fellow Hungarian émigré. It was a mischievous homage to the Hungarian dancer and cabaret performer Magda Förstner. Beöthy’s pose resonates with her sculpture on the left. © Ministère de la Culture/Médiathèque du Patrimoine, Dist. RMN-Grand Palais/Art Resource, New York.

photographing ordinary people involved with everyday tasks, the subject and caption were no longer crucial. This shift allowed Salomon’s photographs to be interpreted in an open manner. Salomon was later betrayed to the Nazis as a Jew and was sent to the Auschwitz extermination camp, where he died. His images survive because he had buried his negatives, which his son recovered after World War II. Salomon’s small camera methods were slow to be adopted by  the American photographic establishment. It

would be well into the 1950s before most magazines would routinely allow their photographers to use the miniature camera for their assignments. By the late 1910s, André Kertész (1894–1985) had demonstrated the visual language of Modernism with asymmetrical compositions, close-ups, distortions, reflections, and unusual points of view. Grainy compositions, involving the bodies of swimmers seen through the refraction of water indicated Kertész’s willingness to reshape reality. French

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photographer and scientist Ducos du Hauron had produced a series of distorted images in 1888, and in the 1930s Kertész returned to this theme by using a curved mirror to transform the female body in a manner similar to Picasso’s cubistic distortions. Kertész’s modernist/surrealist spirit led him to Paris in 1925. There he used his Leica to geometrically order the unexpected moments of everyday life, like children playing in a park, or the corner of Piet Mondrian’s studio, in a life-affirming, lyrical, and sometimes sentimental fashion. He joined a small cadre of photographers making their living as photojournalists in the growing market of the European picture press (see Chapter 14). Kertész haunted the streets of Paris in a state of expectation, waiting to examine the unforeseen. Like the Surrealists, he believed the mask of reality could be decoded by a spontaneous vision made possible through accidents in time. Writer Pierre Mac Orlan referred to the work of these freelance photojournalists as “révélateurs” (developing agents), who by observing life could apprehend the “right moment,” reflecting the idea that a photograph taken in one moment becomes history in the next, and also linking the experience to death. Mac Orlan wrote:

Capa. In 1936 Kertész moved to New York, but the American picture press did not appreciate his distinctive forms that they felt “talked too much.” Their lack of support contributed to Kertész’s growing sense of disillusionment, and his later work, relying on urban architecture as a major theme, appears more formal and remote. In 1930 Kertész wrote: I am an amateur and intend to remain one my whole life long. I attribute to photography the task of recording the real nature of things, their interior life. The photographer’s art is a continuous discovery which requires patience and time. A photograph draws its beauty from the truth with which it is marked.9

Not all the new candid work seized pictures from the ever-moving stream of time. Some photographers  constructed  their images around the notion of suggesting a situation. The relativistic attitude of Einstein’s theories, in which one’s position in time and space determines the truth of any situation, was a stance adopted by many photographers. Although a photograph may not represent absolute truth, what it did report was something difficult to judge as exclusively true or false. Since its invention, the photograph has acted as an eyewitness, but the rise of the illustrated press demanded more unusual subject matter, leading photographers such as  Brassaï  (1899–1984) to photograph situations previously considered forbidden topics for public discourse. Brassaï (Gyula Halász), who took his name from his hometown of Brasso, Transylvania, was an artist motivated by Kertész’s work to portray the nightlife of Paris. A compatriot of the Paris Surrealists and of Picasso, Brassaï contrived stylized tableaux in brothels, cafes, and on the streets of this fringe culture that Mac Orlan referred to as the subconscious “social fantastic,” where the erotic and dangerous lay outside of mainstream society. Brassaï had his subjects act out their concealed activities as he set up his small plate camera on a tripod, opened the shutter, and fired

The greatest field of [documentary] photography … consists … in its latent power to create … death for a single second. Any thing or person is, at will, made to die for a moment of time so immeasurably small that the return to life is effected without consciousness of the great adventure.8

Kertész’s joyous “Leica spirit,” the new small camera mentality, combined the formal design elements of De Stijl from the Dutch painter Piet Mondrian (1872–1944) with a natural intuition to extract poetic “rest-stops” from the flow of time. As such, his photographs often alter expectations about common occurrences and objects. His work was inspirational to numerous photojournalists, including Brassaï, Henri Cartier-Bresson, and Robert

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BRASSAÏ (GYULA HALASZ). The Urchin Bijou, Bar de la Lune, circa 1932. 11 7⁄8 x 9 1⁄8 inches. Gelatin silver print. For his project, Paris by Night, Brassaï walked around Paris after dark with his camera, tripod, magnesium flash powder, and a box of glass plate negatives. Here Brassaï depicts a woman known as La Môme Bijou (‘the urchin Bijou’) or Miss Diamonds, referencing her profusely jeweled façade and once glamorous clothing. A bartender told Brassaï she was once famous and rich, but now lives on charity. Asking permission to make her photograph, Brassaï set up his camera and tripod and waited until she adopted a pose and expression that captured the world-weariness of all those who have seen better days. Brassaï would develop his glass negatives in his apartment’s kitchen that doubled as his darkroom. © Estate Brassaï. CNAC/MNAM/Dist. RMN-Grand Palais/Art Resource, New York.

his flash, recording a theatrical version of a candid moment that demystified and humanized the people from the world of the night. Sixty-two identified plates from this series (one photograph per page), minus the most risqué, were published as  Paris de nuit (Paris by Night) in 1933. Brassaï blended reality and fantasy to probe beneath the surface, presenting a voyeuristic suggestion of shrouded taboos that only come out in the dark. Brassaï explained:

Brassaï’s philosophy of suggestion can also be observed in his series of clichés-verres, Transmutations (1934–1935), for which he wrote: I compelled myself here to reveal the hidden figure which lay in each mental picture… The dislocated parts of the photographs reorganized themselves into new combinations… I cut their flesh as one carves a block to break loose the figure which it conceals… The photograph is now and then volatilized. At times some debris has survived: a piece of quivering breast, a foreshortened face, a leg, an arm. Enshrined in graphism this debris gives to our obsessions, to our dreams the flash of the instant, the breath of reality.11

For me the photograph must suggest rather than insist or explain; just as a novelist offers his readers only part of his creation—in leaving certain aspects unexpressed— so I think the photograph shouldn’t provide superfluous explanations of its subject.10

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© HENRI CARTIER-BRESSON. Gestapo Informer Recognized by a Woman She Had Denounced, Deportation Camp, Dessau, Germany, 1945. Variable dimensions. Gelatin silver print. This image was made in a World War II transit camp located between the American and Soviet zones for displaced persons, forced laborers, political prisoners, refugees, and prisoners of war returning from the Eastern front of Germany that had been liberated by the Soviet Army. Here a Belgian woman and former Gestapo informer was identified as she tried to hide in the crowd. COURTESY  Magnum Photos, New York.

The small camera allowed photographers like Henri Cartier-Bresson (1908–2004) to blend into situations. Like an alert detective with a spyglass, Cartier-Bresson did not intrude, but waited for the scene to arrange itself before him. He was a consummate Surrealist12  who studied cubist painting and spent a year traveling in Africa before acquiring a Leica in 1932. Cartier-Bresson’s photography manifests a form of visual alliteration and rhyme by patiently waiting for the right juxtapositions of coincidence and disparity to occur in real-life situations. The split second that he called the Decisive

Moment is not the height of action, but rather that instant when the formal spatial relationships of the subjects reveal their essential meaning. CartierBresson saw that moment as “the simultaneous recognition, in a fraction of a second, of the significance of an event as well as a precise organization of forms which gave that event its proper expression.”13 Although he worked for numerous publications, Cartier-Bresson was not a journalist interested in reporting the news. Rather, he concerned himself with capturing significant moments that had the audacity to surprise us with their own meaning.

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Such an image is his Gestapo Informer Recognized by a Woman She Had Denounced, Deportation Camp, Dessau, Germany, 1945,  in which an enraged, puffed-up woman, liberated from the German tyranny, reaches over and puts her hand on another woman’s shoulder, seemingly deflating that woman with the shame of having collaborated with the Nazis. Cartier-Bresson’s belief in the revelatory moment and his antipathy for fabricated situations defined and shaped the modernist, small-camera aesthetic of intuitively anticipating when a component of life opens and defines itself for an instant. Often utilizing limited depth-of-field, Cartier-Bresson created a shallow stage within which his subjects would reveal themselves. This construct made it simpler for him to forecast and follow actions; he removed subjects from their normal environment, and transformed them into portable collage material for surrealistic theater. His full-frame aesthetic, a scene completely visualized at the time of exposure, separated the mental act of seeing from the physical craft of photography. Typical of French photographers of the era, Cartier-Bresson did not express himself by making sensitive prints, preferring to employ professional labs to do his processing and printing. His stripped-down photographic grammar shunned fine print adages in favor of a direct application of materials and process. This was ideal for photographers like Cartier-Bresson who traveled and made their living by having their work reproduced in magazines and newspapers and not by selling individual photographs as aesthetic objects. To have more control over his images, after World War II Cartier-Bresson and a small group of like-minded photographers formed Magnum Photos, the first cooperative photographic agency (see Chapter 14). In discussing his ideas about composition, Cartier-Bresson stated:

simultaneous coalition, the organic coordination of elements seen by the eye. Composition must have its own inevitability about it … at the moment of shooting it can only come from our intuition… If you start cutting or cropping a good photograph, it means death to the geometrically correct interplay of proportions.14

The types of moments that a camera can report are only limited by the visual resources of the photographer. Bill Brandt (Hermann Wilhelm Brandt) (1904–1983) was influenced by the Surrealists when he left London to go to Paris in 1929 and became Man Ray’s assistant. Returning to London in 1931, Brandt distinctly saw and characterized British social types in their cultural contexts. In this first phase of his career he pictured the divisions of each class in England during the Depression. Using family members and their household servants, Brandt recreated scenarios he had witnessed in the upper-class milieus and in working-class mining towns. These docudramas, published in The English at Home (1936), A Night in London (1938), and Camera in London (1948), present expressionistic interpretations rather than reportage. His compositions, based on German Jugendstil/Art Nouveau posters, appear graphic and sober, and they contain an undertow of foreboding. His grainy images were printed down (dark), sacrificing shadow detail and mid-tone separation, and emphasizing a brooding and ominous psychological state. In the introduction of  The English at Home, Raymond Mortimer refers to Brandt as an anthropologist who had the “detached curiosity of a man investigating the customs of some remote and unfamiliar tribe.”15 Brandt’s later Cold War work deals with literary figures, landscapes, and female nudes. Influenced by  Gregg Toland’s wide-angle cinematography in  Citizen Kane  (1940), Brandt selected a pinhole camera to exaggerate perspective, making statuesque female nudes reminiscent of El Greco paintings that stretch and extend in space while remaining uneasily close. The distortion of scale and the displacement of

We look at and perceive a photograph … all in one glance. In a photograph, composition is the result of a

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BILL BRANDT. Portrait of a Young Girl, Eaton Place, 1955. Variable dimensions. Gelatin silver print. © Bill Brandt Archive Ltd.

objects produce puzzling optical illusions that free subjects from their surroundings, which encourages viewers to explore nonrational meanings. This lack of definitive meaning, the atmosphere of an unsettling dream, presents a mysterious and imposing sense of femininity. Working in isolation, Brandt crafted formal, strangely lit, high-contrast prints of

figures that glow with an unknown power. Nothing was out of bounds for Brandt in the darkroom, where his negative was a gateway to exploration. He might make a print in one manner and then in a totally different approach, including re-cropping the composition. He would take a hands-on approach by employing a straight razor to cut and

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MANUEL ÁLVAREZ BRAVO. La buena fama durmiendo [Good Reputation Sleeping], 1938–1939. Variable dimensions. Gelatin silver print. © Colette Urbajtel/Archivo Manual Álvarez Bravo, SC. COURTESY  International Center of Photography, New York.

scrape the emulsion, and then utilize a fine brush to apply ink or watercolor washes, or a graphite pencil to add or enhance detail. Brandt was also known to have taken an existing print and rephotographed, reprinted, and retouched it to attain the desired visual atmosphere. This made each print unique, ignoring photography’s cherished ability to edition identical copies. The results stressed the primacy of the print by offering a reflective, inscrutable vision in opposition to a factual one that poetically explored the anxiety of the atomic era (see Chapter 15). In his 1948 book, Camera in London, Brandt stated that:

enters a strange country… We are most of us too busy, too worried, too intent on proving ourselves right, too obsessed with ideas to stand and stare… Very rarely are we able to free our minds of thoughts and emotions and just see for the simple pleasure of seeing. And so long as we fail to do this, so long will the essence of things be hidden from us.16

The surreal moment of fantasy as it collided with social conventions of the day was explored by  Manuel Álvarez Bravo  (1902–2002). Bravo, the son and grandson of Mexican painters and photographers, had been encouraged by Tina Modotti and Edward Weston to pursue photography. After meeting André Breton in 1938, Álvarez Bravo’s work took a decidedly surreal turn to include Mexican societal customs and Catholic religious

It is part of the photographer’s job to see more intensely than most people do. He must have and keep in him something of the receptiveness of the child who looks at the world for the first time or of the traveler who

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beliefs, featuring peasant life, death, and dreams. In response to Breton’s request for a cover image for the International Surrealist Exhibition (1940), Álvarez Bravo photographed a female nude on a rooftop in strong sunlight. A doctor bandaged the model’s feet and hips, leaving the model’s pubis exposed as she lay on a rough blanket against an adobe wall next to four pieces of thorny cacti.  La buena fama durmiendo (Good Reputation Sleeping), 1939, creates a surrealistic sexual tension by contrasting concealment and display with the psychological interaction of seduction, threat, and humor. This enigmatic tableau blends the reality and fantasy of a woman alone, asleep, and vulnerable, making what is private now public. The model appears undaunted as the cacti stand guard, protecting her against the perils of desire. Due to international censorship forbidding the display of pubic hair, this image was not used on the cover of Breton’s catalog. Álvarez Bravo constructed images, such as  El Sistema Nerviso del Gran Simpatico,  that take on mythological dimensions as the male and female figures become one. Surrealist sentiments about alteration and confinement are juxtaposed with the differences in how society values men and women, as the man is viewed from within (the intellect) and the woman from without (physical beauty). Álvarez Bravo photographed numerous types of surreal moments as part of his belief that:

Model took up photography to earn money during the Nazi rise to power during the 1930s. After serving a brief apprenticeship with Florence Henri, Model immigrated to New York in 1938. While she sought out work as a darkroom assistant at the PM newspaper, editor Ralph Steiner saw her prints of the wealthy French on the Riviera and the street people of Nice. Changing their original context, he featured them in the paper’s Sunday magazine with the cover shot and six full-page reproductions.18 The headline read, “Why France Fell,” and Steiner accompanied each image with only a single-word caption: Weariness, Boredom, Underprivileged, Greed, Cynicism, Self-Satisfaction.19 The  PM  portfolio intrigued Alexey Brodovitch, art director of  Harper’s Bazaar, who hired Model to photograph for the magazine. Model combined her appreciation of the immediacy of the snapshot and her need to orient herself in a new country by reordering the vitality of New York City into a fresh and challenging vision. She never showed interest in conventional beauty, but pursued the collecting of the seven deadly sins. Her work’s expressive impact derived from Model’s confrontational and intrusive style, and from treating her human subjects on a grand and monumental scale. Her use of unfamiliar perspectives created the sensation of people bulging forward out of the frame, becoming landscapes or massive and heroic shapes that take on the roles of exaggerated sardonic allegories. Model also transformed her subjects through darkroom manipulation, such as cropping, rotating, and tilting images while she was printing, to bring her subjects closer to the viewer and to create foreshortened, paradoxical perspectives. Beginning around 1950, after Berenice Abbott encouraged Model to start teaching photography at the New School for Social Research in New York, as well as small private workshops, Model continued teaching for the rest of her life, influencing emerging photographers, such as Diane Arbus (see Chapter 16), to pursue an unabashed gaze of their fellow humans.

Philosophy is something that is not as delineated as you might think; it’s as ephemeral as life itself The different chapters in life are influenced by the age in which they are formed. The individual goes on developing without being  aware—until the circumstances have passed— that changes have happened to you, that you no longer resemble the individual you once were.17

Another surrealist who found the day-to-day points of reality stranger and more compelling than imagined situations was  Lisette Model  (1901– 1983). Trained as a musician and painter in Austria,

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LISET TE MODEL. Coney Island Bather, NY, circa 1939–1941. 15½ × 19½ inches. Gelatin silver print. Operating with a Rollieflex medium format, twin lens reflex camera (TLR), enabled Model to slip into the dynamic flux of urban life and record the idiosyncrasies of everyday people in commonplace situations. Berenice Abbott stated: “She [Model] uses the camera with her entire body as an extension of the eye itself … to look at life unblinkingly… Lisette said: ‘Don’t shoot ’till the subject hits you in the pit of your stomach.’” © National Gallery of Canada, Ottawa. © Lisette Model Foundation, Inc.

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THE NEW YORK SCHO OL OF PHOTO GRAPHY

of her feelings by anticipating moments from life as seen from the streets of New York City. She was inspired by Cartier-Bresson to photograph children in Harlem in 1936, and Levitt followed that theme throughout her career. In 1938 Levitt met Walker Evans, who became her mentor and friend, and James Agee as well. Her collaborations with Agee included two films, The Quiet One (1949) and In the Street (1952), and a book, A Way of Seeing, done in 1946 but not released until 1965.21 Agee romanticized his descriptions of the photographs, but Levitt filled the corners of her spontaneous renderings of New York’s neighborhood children engaged in fantasy games with eerie allusions to an explosive underclass. Working with a Leica and a right-angle prism allowed her to point the camera in one direction while photographing in another, as her friend Ben Shahn had done for his FSA work. Seeing the streets of New York as a stage and its people as performers, Levitt made visual memorials, capturing the fleeting confluence of chance from the episodic flow of real life. She does not offer a structure of rhetoric, like that of the FSA or Photo League, to contextualize her images. In spite of urban poverty and violence, her photographs are not about despair, and their lack of verbal mooring lets them retain a transitory sense of the fantastic. Levitt’s statement, “All I can say about the work I try to do, is that the aesthetic is in reality itself,”22  keeps intellectualization to a minimum and explains nothing about her mysterious aesthetic decisions except to say that this is how she saw life. Her open approach encourages people to imprint their own attitudes as the photographer shapes, summarizes, reflects, and allows her experiences to resonate against our own. In the late 1950s, Levitt began investigating the potential of color to expand, intensify, and transform the emotional and psychological content while continuing to work the same themes. Another member of The New York School, Louis Faurer (1916–2001) was known as a perfectionistic innovator who expanded the small camera aesthetic

The New York School of Photography is the name writer Jane Livingston gave to a loose collection of photographers who lived and worked in New York City during the 1930s, 1940s, and 1950s who shared influences, subject matter, and stylistic attitudes.20 Helen Levitt (1913–2009) was one of these photographers. With New York City as her motif, Levitt looked for direct photographic expressions

© HELEN LEVIT T. New York, New York, circa 1945. Variable dimensions. Gelatin silver print. COURTESY  Laurence Miller Gallery, New York.

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LOUIS FAURER. 5th Avenue, New York, NY, circa 1948. Gelatin silver print. Faurer presents New York City as a site of dueling post-World War II forces, where economic, political, and social optimism gave way to the Cold War pessimism of the atomic age. Faurer voiced his “intense desire to record life as I see it” as his driving force: “As long as I’m amazed and astonished, as long as I feel that events, messages, expressions and movements are all shot through with the miraculous, I’ll feel filled with the certainty I need to keep going.”23 © Estate of Louis Faurer 2024.

to reflect the dynamism—the essence of urban street life—in New York and Philadelphia. Although Faurer worked as a fashion photographer for nearly thirty years and was and still is not widely known to the public, his psychologically charged and socially aware inner-city images became a major influence in the postwar New York street-photography movement.

Sharing a studio with Robert Frank, who he met in 1947, Faurer challenged the medium’s limits through his use of blur, double exposures, reflections, sandwiched negatives, slow shutter speeds, and low, available light to generate a contradictory visual tautness between bodily proximity and psychological detachment with his subjects. Faurer’s soulful black-and-white photographs, full of shadows and

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In the late 1940s, Saul Leiter (1923–2013), the son of a learned Orthodox rabbi who disinherited him for not following in his footsteps, moved to New York City to pursue painting. After becoming friends with W. Eugene Smith, he developed into an atmospheric photographer of the streets who supported himself with fashion work published in British Vogue, Elle, Esquire, and Harper’s Bazaar. Leiter also associated with Robert Frank and Diane Arbus, and was one of the few New York School street photographers to regularly use Kodachrome and Anscochrome film during an era when color was associated with gaudy advertising and unsophisticated snapshots.24  The prevailing aesthetic sensibility held that the use of color degraded the juxtaposition of chiaroscuro (light and shadow) compared to monochrome film. Moreover, conventional thinking held that color imparted a sense of dishonesty that alienated viewers from the image since it was machine processed and therefore lacked the aura of the hand of the artist. All these factors reduced the photographer’s psychosomatic contribution in terms of making a photograph capable of transcending its subject. Setting such notions aside, most of Leiter’s ephemeral depictions of the beauty and humanity of a hectic city were made in color within a few blocks of where he lived, forming an incessant examination of the everyday. His subtle, impressionistic handling of Kodachrome, often made in rain and snow, included exposing outdated film to render more faded and imprecise colors. Such a sensory approach allowed him to make ambiguous yet intimate compositions in which one’s eye constantly moves within the frame. His images obliquely evoke the lyrical flow and rhythm of his bustling East Greenwich Village neighborhood, encouraging one to linger at what was being suggested within his complicated compositions. Leiter’s tight, painterly, idyllic urban passages, incorporating dreamlike reflections from dirty or steamed-up windows, formed foggy, multilayered

silhouettes, integrated the visual code of film noir with humor, irony, juxtaposition, and sympathy. His work represents a free-wheeling, jazz-like interpretation of people living within an energetic urban center and prefigures the work of others including Diane Arbus and Garry Winogrand. Unfortunately, Faurer was struck by a car in 1984 and was never able to photograph again.

SAUL LEITER. Harlem, 1960. 14 × 11 inches. Chromogenic color print. An early proponent of artistic color photography, Leiter said: “I don’t believe that black and white is sacred or that color is profane. In my own work they have both been equally important.” © Saul Leiter Foundation. COURTESY

Howard Greenberg Gallery, New York.

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scenes, capturing those transitory moments that make one notice what would otherwise be overlooked. Regardless of subject matter, his simple, rather abstract compositions that incorporated chance happenings rendered the interplay of color and light within their prime topic: New York City.

How are we to distinguish between the real and the imitation? Few things observed from one point of view only can be considered seen. The multifaceted aspect of reality has been a commonplace since Cubism, but we continue to see what we will, rather than what is there. Image-making is our preference for what we imagine, to what is there to be seen.25

IMAGES AND WORDS Sometimes it takes a person skilled with both pictures and words to create a collection of moments to describe a place. In The Inhabitants (1946) and The Home Place (1948), Wright Morris (1910–1998) examined rural, small-town Midwestern life during the 1930s and 1940s by placing text on one page and an image on the facing page. For Wright, there was no singular moment but instead a woven tapestry of what he called “photo-texts.” In contrast to his novels, in Morris’s photographs the bright Midwestern sun does not illuminate the skin of people but only the surfaces of their surrounding artifacts and structures; indeed, the people are nowhere to be seen. They have vanished and the reader/viewer is confronted with their relics. Morris describes the lives of the visually absent people in his fictional text, with a blend of accounts and impressions that act in concert to present a community of people and their environs. This strategy extends the moments captured, as the reader travels back and forth between the visual and the verbal, the past and the present, salvaging from the ruins of the Depression a distilled, affectionate, but un-nostalgic collection of a time, place, and people now vanished. Morris’s melding of words and pictures provided a model for future imagemakers, such as Robert Frank, who thought that a collection of moments was needed to fully describe a subject. Morris commented on his multiple-image presentations and their effect:

WRIGHT MORRIS. Gano Grain Elevator, Western Kansas, 1940. Variable dimensions. Gelatin silver print. Morris said: “If there is a common photographic dilemma, it lies in the fact that so much has been seen, so much has been ‘taken,’ there appears to be less to find. The visible world, vast as it is, through overexposure has been devalued. The planet looks better from space than in a close-up. The photographer feels he must search for, or invent, what was once obvious. This may take the form of photographs free of all pictorial associations. This neutralizing of the visible has the effect of rendering it invisible. In these examples photographic revelation has come full circle, the photograph exposing a reality we no longer see.”26 © 2003 Arizona Board of Regents. COURTESY  Collection Center for Creative Photography, University of Arizona.

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HAROLD E. EDGERTON. Firing an Antique (1878) Revolver, 1936. Variable dimensions. Gelatin silver print. Scientific value aside, Edgerton’s photographs possess an element of the fantastic not only because they depict a formerly vacant space, but because of their ability to prolong the childhood pleasure of objects violently exploding and breaking—firing pistols, bursting glass, bucking horses, and bullets impacting various objects. © Harold Edgerton, MIT. COURTESY

Palm Press, Inc.

Harold E. Edgerton (1903–1990) had no interest in moments from urban or rural life. Edgerton did share some of the same concerns as Hans Felix Siegismund Baumann, a.k.a Felix H. Man (1893– 1985), who used a miniature camera on a tripod to arrest the peak gestures of musicians and conductors, providing a record and a physical sense of their performance. Pushing this idea further, Edgerton wanted to visualize such climactic and unseen instances under laboratory conditions. As an electrical engineer in the process of solving a scientific problem in the early 1930s, Edgerton devised the

modern stroboscope, using light-emitting gas discharge tubes triggered by high-voltage pulses. His discovery, that tubes filled with xenon gas greatly increased light output, provided the foundation for manufacturing electronic flash units a decade later. Edgerton synthesized these findings to create two types of motion studies. One involved a series of repeating flashes, with a predetermined interval of time between them, to make multiple-exposure and motion pictures of subjects as they moved through time in a manner similar to the one pioneered by Marey (see Chapter 8). The other  used

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© HAROLD E. EDGERTON, Atomic Bomb Explosion, before 1952. 20 x 16 inches. Gelatin silver print. During World War II, Edgerton worked with the Atomic Energy Commission to develop a camera, the Rapatronic, which could capture the fleeting incandescent flash of a nuclear explosion. Edgerton and his assistants set up their equipment on a tower seven miles from a nuclear test site and, using exposures as short as one-billionth of a second, recorded this ominous glowing shape hovering like an alien life-form or a colossal balloon. Made when the rosy dreams of atomic technology turned into terrifying nightmares, Edgerton’s hallucinogenic photographs of nuclear explosions began another phase of photography’s ability to visualize what previously had been a blank space. COURTESY

Smithsonian American Art Museum, Washington, D.C.

only one flash of extremely short duration, as brief as 1/1,000,000 of a second, to expose single images that made visible what had been an unseeable, hence unknowable, moment in time. Edgerton adapted ordinary cameras, replacing the shutters with electrical illumination that substituted brief flashes of

light for the opening and closing of a shutter. He utilized technology to identify and then incorporate previously unobserved instances of time into society’s visual vocabulary and public consciousness. His visual evidence, like Atget’s, provides data and artistic revelation. James R. Killian, Jr., wrote:

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Edgerton is primarily interested in analyses and hitherto undiscovered information…  He does not seek a style charged with mystical inner meaning, metaphor, or emotion… Throughout his career he invented new photographic systems as tools to solve problems. In this work his photography is sometimes secondary to the information he seeks.27

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As the world entered the atomic age, Edgerton was there with his camera to record an early above ground atomic explosion.28 Even though a tiny fragment of a moment may have been immobilized by a camera, its meaning is never fixed. Today a moment such as Edgerton’s atomic blast can be read as a signal marking the end of America’s idealistic transcendental myths and the beginning of an embrace of European existential angst. As photographers became aware of the difficulty of holding on to a single meaning, they moved away from the notion that meaning must be controlled by the maker, as in  Life  magazine’s photostories, in order for the image to be accessible. The atomic age unleashed a new generation of artists who created images not only directly from their lives but also by recycling previous moments. The meaning of these images was intentionally left open to encourage viewers to participate in the process by ascribing their own set of beliefs to each picture.

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Sir John Herschel anticipated the concept and mechanism of snapshooting in 1860 stating: “I take for granted nothing more than the possibility of taking a photograph, as it were, by a snap-shot—of securing a picture in a tenth of a second of time; and … that a mechanism is possible … by which a prepared plate may be presented, focused, impressed, displaced, numbered, secured in the dark, and replaced by another within two or three tenths of a second.” Sir J. F. W. Herschel, “Instantaneous Photography,” Photographic News, vol. 4, no. 88 (May 11, 1860), 13.

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See Alfred Stieglitz, “The Hand Camera—Its Present Importance” (1896), in Andrew E. Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory: An Historical Anthology (Boston, MA and Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell, 2014), 91–94. Richard Avedon, ed.,  J. H. Lartigue: Diary of a Century  (New York: Viking Press, 1970), unp., 1901 diary entry. Peter Hunter (Salomon),  Erich Salomon  (Millerton: Aperture, 1978), 5. Erich Salomon,  Berühmte Zeitgenossen in unbewachten Augenblicken/Celebrated Contemporaries in Unguarded Moments (Stuttgart: J. Engelhorns Nachf, 1931). Quoted in Beaumont and Nancy Newhall, Masters of Photography (New York: Castle Books, 1958), 134. Hunting and gun metaphors for photography and cameras have longstanding and somewhat controversial histories within writings about the medium. In Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, see, for example: Oliver Wendell Holmes, “The Stereoscope and the Stereograph” (1859), 68–71; Henri Cartier-Bresson, “Introduction” to  The Decisive Moment  (1952), 188–91; Aphrodite Désirée Navab, “Re-Picturing Photography: A Language in the Making” (2001), 365–69; and Robin Kelsey, “Of Fish, Birds, Cats, Mice, Spiders, Flies, Pigs, and Chimpanzees: How Chance Casts the Historic Action Photograph into Doubt” (2009), 384–88. Basically, the Quebec Charter of Human Rights and Freedoms (www2.publicationsduquebec.gouv.qc.ca/ dynamicSearch/telecharge.php?type=2&file=/C_12/ C12_A.html) says that every person has a right to their image, and that right trumps freedom of expression. See: http://ambientlight.ca/laws/the-laws/provincial-law/ quebec/human-rights-code/ Walter Benjamin, “A Short History of Photography” 1931, in Alan Trachtenberg, ed., Classic Essays on Photography (New Haven, CT: Leete’s Island Books, 1980), 215. Pierre Mac Orlan, “La photographie et le fantastique social,”  Les Annales  (November 1, 1928), 414. Quoted Travis, “Ephemeral Truths” in Sarah Greenough et al.,  On the Art of Fixing a Shadow: One Hundred and Fifty Years of Photography (Boston, MA: Bulfinch Press, 1989). Cited in Anna Fárová, ed.,  André Kertész, adapted by Robert Sagalyn (New York: Grossman Publishers, 1966), 7–8. Ibid., 12. Brassaï, introduction to  Transmutations, 1934–1935, unp., an album of twelve cliché-verre prints. Brassaï

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here referred to the famous story, first presented by Vasari in his  The Lives of the Artists  (circa 1568), of Michelangelo’s remarkable carving process for sculptures such as his  David  (circa 1504). See http:// www.accademia.org/explore-museum/artworks/ michelangelos-david/http://www.accademia.org/exploremuseum/artworks/michelangelos-prisoners-slaves/. For information on André Breton’s influence, see Peter Galassi,  Henri Cartier-Bresson: The Early Work  (New York: Museum of Modern Art, 1987), 12. Henri Cartier-Bresson, The Decisive Moment (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1952), unp. See this text reprinted in Hershberger, ed.,  Photographic Theory, 188–91, quote on p. 191; see also various critiques of Cartier-Bresson’s concept such as Robin Kelsey’s essay, “Of Fish, Birds, Cats, Mice, Spiders, Flies, Pigs, and Chimpanzees: How Chance Casts the Historic Action Photograph into Doubt” (2009), 384–88. Henri Cartier-Bresson, Decisive Moment, unp. Raymond Mortimer, Intro. to Bill Brandt, The English at Home (London: B. T. Batsford, 1936), 4. Bill Brandt, Camera in London (London and New York: Focal Press, 1948), 14–15. Manuel Álvarez Bravo, Revelaciones: The Art of Manuel Alvarez Bravo, an interview conducted by Isaac Artenstein in MoPA members’ publication #13 (1990) (Balboa Park, CA: The Museum of Photographic Arts), 6. For Model’s account of the PM story and her relationship with Alexey Brodovitch, see James McQuaid and David Tait, unpublished transcript, “Interview with Lisette Model,” January 28–30, 1977 (1978) located at the Richard and Ronay Menschel Library, George Eastman House, RB TR 140 M52 M26. Lisette Model, “Why France Fell,” PM’s Weekly, Sunday Edition, Section Two, January 19, 1941, cover and 34–39. See Jane Livingston, The New York School: Photographs, 1936–1963 (New York: Stewart Tabori & Chang 1992). The book includes works by Diane Arbus, Richard Avedon, Alexey Brodovitch, Ted Croner, Bruce Davidson, Don Donaghy, Louis Faurer, Robert Frank, Sid Grossman, William Klein, Saul Leiter, Leon Levinstein, Helen Levitt, Lisette Model, David Vestal and Weegee. A Way of Seeing: Photographs of New York by Helen Levitt, essay by James Agee (New York: Viking Press, 1965). The book has been reissued in revised forms in 1981 and 1989 with resequencing, recropping, and the addition and subtraction of images. For discussion see Katherine

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Dieckmann, “Mean Streets,” Art in America (May 1990), 223–29, 263. Helen Levitt in Brooks Johnson, ed., Photography Speaks: 66 Photographers on Their Art (New York: Aperture/The Chrysler Museum, 1989), 64. Wilco Versteeg, “Louis Faurer’s Postwar New York,” Aperture, October 26, 2016, https://aperture.org/ editorial/louis-faurer-postwar-new-york/ See Jane Livingston, The New York School. Wright Morris, “In Our Image,”  The Massachusetts Review, vol. 19, no. 4 (1978). Reprinted in Vicki Goldberg, ed., Photography in Print (1988), 536. Morris, “In Our Image,” 542. Harold E. Edgerton and James R. Killian, Jr., Moments of Vision: The Stroboscopic Revolution in Photography (Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press, 1979), 10. This series of nonstrobe photographs is in keeping with Edgerton’s passion for finding a way to present the unseen. Edgerton made them from atop a 75-foot tower, 7 miles from the blast site, using a 10-foot focal length telescope and a magneto-optic shutter for split-second imaging of the explosion.

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CHAPTER FOURTEEN

From Halftones to Bytes

PICTURES AND PRINTER’S INK

follow. The biggest technical obstacle such publications faced was how to use ink to print pictures and text at the same time. Neither Daguerre’s nor Talbot’s processes could make enough high-quality, reproducible, and permanent images from any one exposure to compete with the vast economy of production and permanence of ink-based lithographs and wood engravings in this thriving picture market. Intaglio  printing methods for reproducing images, such as aquatint, etching, line engraving, and mezzotint, used recessed printing areas and were therefore incompatible with moveable type, which relies on relief printing, in which the raised areas are inked. Lithography, a planographic process in which an image is drawn on a flat surface, was also unsuitable for use with moveable type. Illustrations made from either of these two methods required they be printed separately and hand-pasted (tipped-in) into a publication, making them costly and time consuming. What was needed was a process that would allow both text and pictures to be printed simultaneously using the same equipment, materials, and skills. In 1842 the search for a process that would bring photography into the arena of publishing led French physicist Hippolyte Fizeau (1819–1896) to devise a method for making prints from etched daguerreotypes, but it was impractical. The real breakthrough occurred in the work Talbot did for what would

The initial success of the daguerreotype was based on its ability to fulfill a longstanding human desire for graphic representation, as expressed during ancient Roman times in Pliny’s myth about a young woman who outlined the shadow of her candlelit paramour on a wall as a mechanism of remembrance. The daguerreotype’s eventual failure was due to its inability to be reproduced as a print on paper. People not only wanted an “automatic” way of directly capturing nature, they also wanted an easy and inexpensive method for sharing their pictorial remembrances with as many people as they pleased.1  It was this human characteristic, the wish to share something of personal importance with others, that led Niépce to first experiment with light to make images that could be printed in multiples by a press in ink.2 As England and France expanded basic public education laws during the 1830s, publishing grew to meet the needs of a newly literate industrial society. The rapid growth of cities that accompanied industrialization increased the demand for newspapers, illustrated books, and magazines. In 1842,  The Illustrated London News  became the first weekly magazine to favor images over text. It contained numerous full-page illustrations, including two-page bleeds, becoming a model other publishers would

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SMY TH. Arrival of the Royal Procession at the Custom-house Quay, The Illustrated London News, vol. 15, no. 397, November 11, 1849. 14 4⁄5 x 22½ inches. Wood engraving. The Illustrated London News, funded by Herbert Ingram, began weekly publication in 1842 as a primarily conservative leaning paper and was the world’s first illustrated newspaper. Its extensive coverage of the royal family’s tours, lives, and deaths led to the paper’s popularity. It continued publishing in various forms until 2003. COURTESY

The New York Public Library.

become known as the  halftone process. The halftone process permits a continuous tone image, such as a photograph, to be printed simultaneously with text. The halftone principle utilizes an optical illusion in which tones are represented by numerous small dots of different sizes, dots all having equal optical density and equal spacing between their centers. In printing, the halftone screen divides an image into tiny dots that deposit ink on paper in proportion to the density of the original image tones in the areas they represent. In 1858, Talbot published an article describing how he devised a way for images and text to be printed at the same time through relief, by making exposures through a fabric

screen to break up the image into tiny sections that when etched would make tolerable prints. By 1856, improvements in Talbot’s method, which he called photoglyphic engraving, contained all the data that Karl Klic (1841–1926) would need to invent his intaglio  photogravure process  in 1879. Refinements in the halftone process, such as Frederic E. Ives’s crossline screen, which generated images made of dots of varying size and distribution just as we see them in today’s newspapers and magazines, and the highspeed relief (letterpress) press, made it economically feasible to print text and images together, ending the era of photographers acting as small independent publishers.

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By the 1890s, monochromatic pictures could be reproduced cheaply and easily alongside type, but photography did not immediately replace the previous conventions of newspaper and magazine illustration; rather, it fit into them, to a certain extent. Editors were reluctant to change the “artistic” engravings and woodcuts accepted as  pictorial illusion, the understanding between the viewer’s reaction to an image and the reality it represents. People had grown accustomed to specific styles of depiction and seemed reluctant to accept anything different. As photography was a new medium, there was no backlog of historical photographs for publishers to call upon and use in their illustrations, which became an impetus for ateliers to archive and reuse their own photographs. Photographers had to be present at events to record them; in comparison, draftsmen could produce pictures of events they had never observed without their credibility being questioned. As photomechanical reproduction improved, however, picture magazines used more photographs for illustration and advertising, and their sales rose. The expansion of the audience for photographs changed the subject matter depicted. Previously, photographers could make a living selling postcards of local scenes and people. Now, to reap the economic advantages of the new technology, publishers needed subjects that interested large audiences, leading to the glamorization of famous people and foreign places. What would become known as The Media, ushered in how most people would initially become acquainted with pictures and form an opinion about their meaning based on the editorial content that surrounded them; replacing churches, galleries, and museums as the primary sites to view pictures. Photomechanical reproduction made pictures ubiquitous and altered concepts of art while raising issues of control and censorship. In “The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction” (1936),3  Walter Benjamin (1892–1940) stated that even the best reproduction has an imperfect

presence; therefore, it lacks a unique existence, an authenticity, a state of being and authority he called aura. Benjamin wrote that reproduction eliminates aura, shatters tradition, and emancipates a work of art from its dependence on ritual, reducing the distance between artists and viewers and making the work more accessible.4 The breakdown of aura and its replacement of reality with reproduction smashed conventions, but the loss of contact with the authentic (original) left a spiritual vacuum of “second-hand” experiences. As photographically based reproduction became routine during the twentieth century, the genuine individuality of an art work and, in turn, of the personal self suffered from a mounting sense of alienation due to a loss of belief in the power of nature and its replacement by technology. By the close of World War II, American artists who previously portrayed the beauty of the natural world joined their European counterparts in turning inward to find subjective responses to their existential angst. Ironically, as inky reproductions suffer the consequences of aging they too become “antique images” with a patina of nostalgia and our culture then reassigns an aura to them, based on romantic sentiments about the passage of time. This, in turn, liberates the reproductions from their primary function, converting them into new ways of seeing the past based on the present. Photomechanical reproduction filled numerous needs that included: practical and economical methods of reproduction, techniques that facilitated the simultaneous printing of images and text, increased image circulation and permanence, plus gave a perception of increased objectivity and truthfulness. In addition to making pictures ubiquitous, photomechanical reproduction provided an autonomous means of artistic expression that altered concepts of art as raised issues of control and censorship, and they did so by utilizing various formats, such as the photo-magazine.

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THE PHOTO-MAGAZINE A twentieth-century newspaper’s dynamic combination of graphic systems—drawing, photography, and type—anchored a photograph’s free-floating meaning to an instructive mode not chosen by the photographer but by an editor, editorial committee, or paying client. In a technologically based culture that depended on precise definitions, multiple and conflicting readings of news photographs were not considered desirable. The control of meaning for commercial, editorial, and political purposes was refined by German illustrated magazines, such as Berliner Illustrierte Zeitung (Berlin Illustrated Newspaper), founded in 1890;  Münchner Illustrierte Press  (Munich Illustrated Press), begun in 1923; and  AIZ, or  Arbeiter Illustrierte Zeitung (Workers’ Illustrated Newspaper), started in 1921 and continued publishing in various formats and places until 1938. Their illustrated stories implicitly provided lessons on how photographic meanings can be manipulated, and these examples quickly spread throughout the world. Most importantly, photographically illustrated publications became the primary means in which images were circulated to constantly increasing audiences, making photographic reproductions both ubiquitous and trend setting.5 This process was amplified by means of syndication, selling reprint rights are to other newspapers and magazines. It took off at the end of the nineteenth century when the New York World and the New York Journal began producing Sunday comic strip supplements that were circulated to newspapers in every major American city. Also, the Chicago Inter-Ocean introduced color printing into American newspaper production in 1892. These lessons were also applied to the making of photo-based books. An eye-popping example is the once highly influential 1924 anti-war broadside, Krieg dem Krieg! (War against War) by Ernst Friedrich (1894–1967), which presented almost

UNKNOWN PHOTOGRAPHER. World War I Plastic Surgery Patient, from Ernst Friedrich’s War Against War, 1924. 5 × 7 inches. Photogravure print. Infuriated by the barbarism of World War I, German pacifist Ernst Friedrich published a collection of pictures to illustrate the human consequences of war and the hypocrisy and lies that produced and promoted it. Friedrich presented appalling images of the atrocities juxtaposed with the official German military propaganda to graphically illustrate the human devastation it produced. Reaching out to an international audience, Friedrich’s work was one of the first photographic protests against the savagery of modern war. The original version written in four languages (German, French, English, Dutch) has since been translated into over fifty languages. In 1923 Friedrich founded an Anti-war Museum in Berlin that was looted and shut down by the Nazis when they came to power in 1933.

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200 World War I photographs from German archives, many of which had been suppressed. Thoughtful sequences employed pictorial juxtapositions and brief, emotional texts to direct readers on an unremitting tour of carnage and devastation, climaxing in a succession of tightshots depicting soldier’s shockingly horrendous facial disfigurements. The passionate, political photomontages of John Heartfield  (1891–1968), who Anglicized his name from Helmut Herzfeld as a protest against a German anti-British campaign in 1916, were specially constructed for ink reproduction. According to fellow dadaist George Grosz (1893–1959), he and Heartfield “[re]invented the photomontage in his studio at five  o’clock on a May morning in 1916.”6  Both were probably familiar with the cutting and pasting of images done by soldiers on the Western front to get reports of the slaughter of World War I past the censors.7 Heartfield most often appropriated images that he then metaphorically reassembled, especially pictures dealing with Nazis, dramatically subverting their original intent in order to make scathing social commentaries. Heartfield knew that the photographic nature of montage lends it credibility. Heartfield’s photographic exactness made printed advertisements successful, and it convinced observers of a montage’s message by leading viewers through a forceful, rhetorical visual argument.8 Hitler’s rise to power ended the flowering period of European photojournalism. In 1933 Hitler suppressed all photography-based publications that questioned his authority. Heartfield and his fellow montage maker Karl Vanek (pseudonym of Hermann Leupold, 1900–1967) fled to Prague, where  AIZ  continued to publish, and then to England in 1940, where Heartfield stayed until 1950 when he returned to what had become communist East Germany (German Democratic Republic). Even now, with the specific propaganda message of the work gone, Heartfield’s montages continue to cry against greed, hate, and oppression.

© JOHN HEARTFIELD. Hitler erzählt Märchen II (Hitler Tells Fairytales II). From AIZ (March 5, 1936). 14¾ × 10 7⁄16 inches. Photogravure print. John Heartfield, one of the creators of photomontage in the 1920s and 1930s, operated under the motto: “Use Photography as a Weapon” to challenge the images and words of state propaganda. He realized the power of photographs comes not only from their ability to reproduce reality, but also to alter reality. Photographs can be used to warn us about the dangers of impending war or to draw us into a conflict. COURTESY  2024 Heartfield Community of Heirs/Artists Rights Society (ARS),

New York, NY/VG Blind-Kunst, Bonn.

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in the image reads: “Under no circumstances will the German Reich Government deviate from its defense. She sees no threat to any other country, on land, nor in the air, nor at sea in the fulfillment of the imperial policy.” Editors Karl Korff and Kurt Safranski of the Berliner Illustrierte and many photographers escaped the Nazis to America. Stefan Lorant of the Münchner Illustrierte  fled to London, where he founded  Lilliput  (1934) and  Picture Post  (1938) and edited the Weekly Illustrated, before emigrating to the U.S. All these publications were headed by strong editors who took completed photographic assignments and contextualized them through page layout selections and text. Since photographers still did their own processing and printing, they could exercise limited editorial direction through the choice of images they submitted. The concepts of these exiled pioneers of photojournalism and of Lucien Vogel, editor of the French picture magazine  Vu  (Seen), made their way to America. Many pictures Erich Salomon took during his visit to America in 1929 impressed publisher Henry R. Luce (1898–1967), who had them reproduced in Time (founded 1923) and Fortune (founded 1930). Luce, the child of Christian missionaries in China, adopted the conservative, paternalistic position that objective reporting was not desirable or even possible. In 1934, Luce envisaged a magazine whose managers would “edit pictures into a coherent story [and] harness the main stream of optical consciousness” with the “mind-guided camera.”9 The first issue of Life hit the stands on November 23, 1936, with a cover story about the construction workers on the Fort Peck, MT, dam project by Fortune photographer Margaret Bourke-White. Writing in a style reminiscent of nineteenth-century stereo-view advertisements, Luce declared Life’s mission:

© KARL VANEK (Hermann Paul Bruno Leupold). The Brown Tiger of Peace, AIZ (exile edition) no. 22, May 30, 1935. 14 15⁄16 × 14½ inches. Photolithograph on newsprint. COURTESY

Yale University Art Gallery, New Haven, CT.

AIZ’s founder and first publisher, Willi Münzenberg, was commissioned by the Communist Party leadership in Moscow to set up a weekly newspaper designed to focus on the life and struggles of the working classes. AIZ published propaganda and entertainment and gave Karl Vanek and John Heartfield the space to develop their satirical photomontages. With a sizeable circulation of 550,000 copies, AIZ opposed the rising National Socialist Party. When Hitler came to power in 1933, the AIZ editorial office fled to Prague and eventually to Paris before ceasing publication in 1938. The text

To see life; to see the world; to witness great events … to take pleasure in seeing; to see and be amazed; to see and be instructed; thus to see, and to be shown, is now the will and new expectancy of half mankind.10 394

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© MARGARET BOURKE-WHITE. Fort Peck Dam’s Spillway, First LIFE Cover, 1936. 10.5 x 14 inches. Photo offset. According to Life’s picture collection archive, Margaret Bourke-White was assigned to photograph the multimillion-dollar projects of the Columbia River Basin in northeast Montana. The editors expected construction pictures. What they got was a human chronicle of American boomtown life in which many people were living in small tarpaper shacks with no electricity or running water. The editors considered this a revelation. Bourke-White’s photographs emphasized men and women instead of the dam. This attention to people would mark Life’s pictorial style, making it one of the most successful American magazines of the twentieth century.11 Sixty men were killed during construction, six of whom are entombed deep in the dam.

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© ALFRED EISENSTAEDT. V.J. Day, 1945. Variable dimensions. Gelatin silver print. As pedestrians watch, an American sailor passionately kisses a white-uniformed nurse in Times Square to celebrate the long awaited-victory over Japan on August 14, 1945. One of the original Life staff photographers, Alfred Eisenstaedt (1898–1995) pioneered the use of the 35mm camera for photo-reportage in Germany while cementing his reputation as a photographer capable of making printable images in almost any time-based, assignment-driven situation. He produced over 2,000 peopleoriented news assignments during his forty years with Life.Photo by Alfred Eisenstaedt/Life Picture Collection/Getty Images.

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Life was a runaway newsstand hit. (Look, its competitor, appeared in 1937.) Following a corporate model, photographers were expected to be disciplined members of a bureaucratic division of labor. Teams of specialists pieced together a magazine that was overseen and directed by men with definite political and social agendas.  Life  became a fixture in middle-class American living rooms, its weekly circulation peaking at 8.5 million copies with an estimated readership of 24 million. Over half the U.S. population read at least one or more issues in any three-month period.12  Through photo-essays by Ernst Haas (1921–1986), such as his 24-page Magic Images of New York  (1953), the interpretive and poetic possibilities of color photography were integrated into daily viewing habits.  Life  preached mainline American values throughout the 1950s, but by the late 1960s the effects of rising costs, a shift in societal beliefs away from a homogeneous viewpoint, and color television’s ability to instantly reach larger audiences with news bites contributed to the magazine’s decline. After 1,864 consecutive issues, Life ceased weekly publication in 1972. It was restructured to a smaller monthly format in 1978 until it finally ceased regular publication in 2000. Life  spawned similar print magazines like  Ebony  (1945–2016) and Jet (1951–2014) that catered to the African American community. Ebony’s initial press run of 25,000 sold out. When Ebony ceased print publication it had a circulation of over 1,300,000. Both Ebony and Jet continue as online publications. A powerful, popular photographic press, similar in substance to the mass-circulation magazine phenomenon, also emerged in the 1930s. Popular Photography (1937) quickly became the leading photographic journal in America. Two other popular magazines also began at this time:  Minicam  (1937), later called  Modern Photography, and  U.S. Camera  (1938). Unlike older publications designed for salon photographers, these new magazines concentrated on amateurs

© YOUSUF KARSH. Martin Luther King Jr., Ebony cover November, 1962. 10½ x 14 inches. Photo offset.The cover caption read: “The Rev. Martin Luther King Jr., president of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference, has become one of the best known Negro leaders of all times. His fight for full citizenship for American Negroes is almost as well known in Europe, Asia and Africa as it is in the U.S.A. The Rev King so typifies the tenor of the current civil rights battle that his name must take its place in history along with those of Booker T. Washington and Frederick Douglass.” In 1963, King led the massive March on Washington, where he delivered his famous “I Have a Dream” speech. Later that year King was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize. King was assassinated in 1968 by a white racist.

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Professional Photographers of America (PPA), started their own journals (Infinity and Professional Photographer). Popular Photography was the largest circulated imaging magazine. It launched its first issue in May 1937 in New York City and ceased publication in 2017. An on-line version, PopPhoto, continues. The first issue, with a color cover, promised to “answer all questions about photography.” The first cover featured is a woman in the shower, drying herself off in full makeup. This became typical of their future covers that featured scantily dressed “bathing suit beauties,” marketed to appeal to a largely male audience. Popular Photography catered to a broad amateur base and its content was geared toward basic technical articles while serving as a major site for the sale of camera equipment and supplies. This cover image was taken by Stanley Young (1917 –2020), who also invented, designed, and built a one-shot color camera that was capable of stopping the action of the running shower water. National Geographic, designed to educate its audience about the world, first appeared as a monthly scientific journal in 1888. Not available by subscription, but as a benefit of membership in the National Geographic Society, the journal started using photography to “illustrate” its stories in 1906, becoming one of the first magazines to regularly reproduce Autochromes14 (see Chapter 8 for details). National Geographic’s impact on photographic practice was not as extensive as Life’s, but it did set the stage for the extensive use of color photography. Until the 1970s, National Geographic’s  editors continued to rely on extensive text as the primary story dynamic, utilizing photographs as supplements that illustrate rather than drive the narrative. Nevertheless, by the mid-1950s National Geographic  was the reigning exotic picture source for armchair travelers. From its inception in an age of European imperial expansion,  National Geographic  provided a  Wunderkammer  (wonder cabinet) of curiosities, collecting, ordering, and

© STANLEY YOUNG. Popular Photography, first cover. 1937. Photo offset.

who favored small, handheld cameras. The editors relied on democratic appeal, a fascination with technology, and a bit of cheesecake to “spread the cheerful gospel that photography is a lot of fun.”13  Supported by the photographic industry, these publications encouraged amateurs to buy expensive equipment with the promise that their easy, how-to-do-it articles would instruct and technically empower them with the means of self-expression. As quality rose and production expenses dropped, more illustrated magazines targeted specific audiences. Professional photography organizations, such as the American Society of Magazine Photographers (ASMP) and the

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summarizing knowledge for the pleasure and instruction of educated, middle-class Americans—expanding the territory of the conceivable. Under the guise of scientific pursuit, photography allowed readers to vicariously observe “primitive” customs of  the Other  (see Chapter 7).  National Geographic never aspired to “advocacy journalism,” always steering away from hard, unpleasant truths. In commenting about the editorial obsession for “balanced” coverage, a  National Geographic  photographer once joked that “in a story on volcanoes … you should balance their destruction with something good about volcanoes.”15  Even critics who once questioned  National Geographic’s  reliance on Victorian notions of racial differences, class attributes, and sexual imperatives acknowledge it has changed course and now pays attention to the cultural boundaries it depicts for a readership estimated at 40 million.16

THE SEPARATION OF ART AND COMMERCE : ADVERTISING AND FASHION

© RONALD H. COHN. Koko the Gorilla, National Geographic cover October 1978. 8½ x 11½ inches. Photo offset.

During the nineteenth century, wealthy amateurs discriminated between photographs made for art and those made for commerce; individuals whose livelihood depended on photography seldom made these distinctions. Champions of Modernism, such as the financially independent Stieglitz, required photographers to be commercially untainted, widening the separation between artistic and commercial practice, but only for those privileged enough to not have to earn their daily bread. During the twentieth century, the arts community demanded that commercial photographers create a body of work distinctly different from their commercial activities, reinforcing the opinion that making a living through commercial photography and producing

Koko the gorilla was both subject and photographer for this cover story, “Conversations With a Gorilla.” Koko, who had been taught nearly 1,000 words of American Sign Language by researcher Penny Patterson, learned how to operate an old Polaroid camera by imitating a photographer. Koko loved the flash of a strobe light and, after being directed to a mirror by a National Geographic editor, later made a selfie. When the session concluded, Koko signed, “Love camera.”17

art was incompatible. This perpetuated the myth of the idealistic, starving artist. Regardless of what the art elite thought, however, commercial photography infiltrated Western consciousness as low-cost and high-quality offset printed images became the major source of visual representation. By the 1960s,

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Meyer as chief photographer for the Condé Nast publications Vogue and Vanity Fair and worked for Condé Nast until 1937. Steichen formulated modernistic styles inspired by Cubism and Art Deco for advertising, celebrity, and fashion photography, and he mastered a new tool in the photographic vocabulary: incandescent light. Steichen’s command of artificial lighting enabled him to emphasize or invent the glamour in whatever was before his lens. He stressed the formal aspects of his subjects by means of a crisp, detailed, high-key style that revolutionized the practice. Relying on a strategy based on class and romance, Steichen helped persuade advertising agencies that photography was more effective than hand-drawn illustration in reaching the growing market of female consumers.18 He created bold and dynamic compositions that communicated clearly on a printed page, even if the image lost detail or suffered from contrast problems during the printing process. The resulting reproductions appeared more elegant and glamorous than reality. Steichen’s design sense garnered him commissions, and he made money not from the direct sale of his prints but through reproduction rights. Photographers like Steichen who worked with publication in mind gave up the trappings of fine art for those of journalism, whose end product became the printed page as opposed to the single photographic print displayed on a wall. Steichen applied these principles of mechanical repetition to his own seeing, using multiple exposures or repeating shapes to construct images such as his Homeless Women, for the Travelers Aid Society. Unlike the FSA photographers who went directly to their subjects, Steichen brought subjects to him and altered their circumstances according to his aesthetic will, raising issues of exploitation that continue to surround the practices of the fashion industry. Advertisers of that time considered it a daring strategy to take a more “naturalistic” approach that associated “real” people, instead of professional models, with their products.

EDWARD STEICHEN. Vogue July 1, 1932 cover. 8½ x 11 inches. Photo offset. This was Vogue’s first cover using a color photograph. Before then, hand-drawn illustrations were used in full, or part for the covers. Steichen has been referred to as the father of fashion photography. He sophisticatedly blurred and redrew the boundaries between celebrity portraiture, fashion photography, and advertising, creating a hybrid genre of desire and glamour that continues to be a dominant template of magazine photography. © 2024 The Estate of Edward Steichen/Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York, NY.

a tidal wave of printed color images from commercial enterprises eroded the boundaries between these areas. Fashion magazines were among the first to regularly publish editorial photographs precisely because they meant to commercialize products. Baron Adolph de Meyer’s elegant pictorial displays of fashion through light and texture began to appear in  Vogue  in 1913. Ten years later,  Edward Steichen  (1879–1973) was hired to replace de

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EDWARD STEICHEN. Homeless Women, 1932. 13 5⁄8 x 10 5⁄8 inches. Gelatin silver print. Steichen described how he made this image: “Then there was the story of the homeless women in New York lodging houses during the Depression. It seemed that many women, old and young, jobless or too old to work and contribute to the food supply, left home and came to New York. When the Travelers Aid Society found such people, they put them up in lodging houses for the night. We were to do a brochure for the Travelers Aid Society, and I suggested that the agency bring up the first twenty women who came out of the lodging house in the morning. There was to be no selection. Each woman was to be given ten dollars… To get the rudderless feeling of their story, I instructed each woman to look in a different direction.”19 © 2024 The Estate of Edward Steichen/Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York, NY.

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© LEJAREN À HILLER. Etienne Gourmelen, from the series Surgery Through the Ages, circa 1933. 18 × 14¾ inches. Gelatin silver print. COURTESY  Visual Studies Workshop, Rochester, NY.

An early successful artistic ad campaign, now considered sexist, was  Lejaren à Hiller’s (1880– 1969)  Surgery Through the Ages, done for Davis & Geck, Inc., makers of surgical sutures. Between 1927 and 1933, Hiller concocted a historic series of over 200 great moments in medical history that appeared in medical journals and hung in hospitals and physicians’ offices throughout the country. His tableaux,  Etienne Gourmelen, depicts the sixteenth-century doctor renowned for his heroic treatment of bubonic plague victims. All the men appear clothed, while young, beautiful, naked

women lay dying around them in helpless and sexually suggestive positions. Because advertising fueled profits, advertisers and publishers looked for ways to stimulate sales. Their alchemic formula was to visually represent a dream, spin this dream into desire, and then forge the desire into a salable product. Color photography got a big boost as advertisers discovered that its added “realism” spurred sales. In 1931, the  Ladies’ Home Journal ran the first full-color reproduction of a carbro process print by Nickolas Muray (1892– 1965). The  carbro process, patented in 1855 by

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NICKOLAS MURAY. Hand and X-Ray Machine, circa 1962. 10½ × 11¼ inches. Carbro print. © Nickolas Muray Photo Archives.

Alphonse Poitevin, was designed to make prints from photographic negatives and positives by using an emulsion containing particles of carbon or colored, nonsilver pigment to form an image. Considered the most versatile of the carbon processes, the name carbro was given to an improved version to signify that carbon tissue was used in conjunction with a bromide print (car/bro). Muray’s pre-World War II celebrity glamour portraits and color advertisements helped formulate a style that communicated not only the needs of the advertiser, but the attitudes and preoccupations of American

society as well. By the mid-1930s, American photographer Harold Haliday Costain reported that advertisers were embracing color: The most noticeable recent change in advertising tendencies is the widespread use of color photography for all types of illustrations. The American advertisers, realising that over 75 per cent. [sic] of all purchases were made by our women, set about to further appeal to them by means of colour, and the great increase in its general use proves beyond doubt its claim to success.20

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The desire to convert dreams into dollars was realized on the inky pages of fashion magazines like Vogue, Harper’s Bazaar, and Vanity Fair. The art directors and photographers of these publications absorbed aesthetic trends into their approach that showcased celebrities and juxtaposed fashionable clothing within contemporary settings such as skyscrapers, sports themes, and abstract paintings. Sir Cecil Walter Hardy Beaton (1904–1980) became a

leading fashion photographer of the 1930s, first for  Vogue  and later for  Harper’s Bazaar.21  He was one of the first to use actresses as fashion models, importing their fairy-tale mystique to whatever he was photographing. Beaton relied on his flair, wit, and irony to stay in tune with his celebrity and royal subjects, keeping him close to his real interest: fashionability. As part of his social climbing, he shifted styles to accommodate trends and to reflect those who prided themselves on their ability to outwardly express their inner originality, and to serve as public tastemakers. People in the fashion business, just like Hollywood moviemakers, learned to visualize American dreams, as in Frank Capra’s  It Happened One Night  (1934) and  Mr. Deeds Goes to Town  (1936), and to make and distribute these fantasies of romanticized and idealized individuals by means of mechanical reproduction at an almost universally affordable price. Horst P. Horst’s (1906–1999) fashion career, spanning almost sixty years with Condé Nast, got underway as a model and assistant for George Hoyningen-Huene (1900–1968), who brought the functionalism of the New Objectivity into the studio assignments he did for Vogue and Harper’s Bazaar between 1925 and 1945. Horst’s mastery of light and eloquent use of props are demonstrated in his 1939  Vogue  corset ad. Here a faceless corseted torso, modeled by Madame Berson, conveys elegant sexual tension through an object of repression and self-inflicted discomfort, walking the obscure boundary lines of pleasure, pain, eros, and cruelty. Martin Munkácsi (1896–1963), originally a painter and sportswriter, used the small, handheld camera with the split-second sensitivity to give a dynamic sense of action to his fashion and sports photographs. Beginning in 1933, Munkácsi adopted the candid technique with athletic models, outside, in natural light, for Harper’s Bazaar. His spontaneous approach established the second major fashion magazine working style: naturalism that took

© HORST P. HORST. From Paris—Corset with Back Lacing—Maibocher Corset, 1939. 9 10⁄16 x 7 13⁄16 inches. Gelatin silver print. Horst’s complex and dramatic lighting combined beauty with surrealism. The image was retouched before it was printed in Vogue to make the model’s waist even smaller. This version is more provocative and sensual, and was Horst’s favorite.22 The printed ad copy links the city of romance, bondage, and art with the expectations of nighttime pleasures: “Paris puts you back in laced corsets—and here they are. Detolle made the extreme, back-lacing corset … to bind you in for the Velasquez silhouette. This corset is specifically for evening.” COURTESY  Condé Nast.

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MARTIN MUNKACSI. Lucille Brokaw, from Harper’s Bazaar, December, 1933. Variable dimensions. Gelatin silver print. © Estate of Martin Munkacsi. COURTESY

Howard Greenberg Gallery, New York.

models outside and made use of natural light, which answered the controlled studio style inspired by Cubism and Art Deco. In the 1950s Alexey Brodovitch (1894–1971), the art director of  Harper’s Bazaar  from 1934– 1958, released fashion from its past genres by devising a new compositional structure for the printed page, and by challenging photographers to produce daring images for this format. Brodovitch

envisioned his layouts as single rectangles that spread over two pages instead of the narrow vertical column of a single page. He experimented with type, illustrations, white space, bleed photographs, and montage to expand and control the visual pacing of time. Brodovitch’s work as a graphic designer and teacher, coupled with his recognition of the abilities of immigrant photographers to find new forms for interpreting the culture of the New World, affected

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At the time Munkácsi made this image, fashion was photographed in studios. When Munkácsi captured the model in action, running toward him, he broke that mold and set a trend which continues today. His widely imitated spontaneity and action brought magazine fashions to life and earned him the description “the kinetic man.” Irving Penn (1917–2009), a student of Alexey Brodovitch, devised an austerely sophisticated graphic form of fashion photography. Working with Alexander Liberman (1912–1999), the art director of Vogue for over forty years, Penn dispensed with naturalism and spontaneity in favor of formal studio control, doing away with the cluttered paraphernalia and theatrical lighting of the previous generation of fashion photographers. Whether photographing Peruvian Indians, New Guinea tribesmen, or Hell’s Angels, Penn set up a “luminous tent,”24 a makeshift studio containing a gray or white seamless paper backdrop and artificial lights, to pose his subjects in a blank space. Penn’s strategy removed sitters from their normal surrounding, treating all subjects to the same structured composition and elegant lighting that fashion models and socialites received. Liberman observed that Penn invented “his space [to give] an immediate reading of character.”25 Fashion photographers almost universally adopted Penn’s method. During the 1950s, Penn saw no incongruity between art and commerce, stating: “The fashion magazine is one of the few contemporary media in which commerce success and the highest esthetic standards are not incompatible.”26  Critic Milton Brown disagreed with Penn’s assessment in general, claiming that countless fashion photographs eroded thoughtful aesthetic explorations and were no more than vacant pastiches of “superficial tricks and attitudes which gives to their pictures an air of sophistication and modernity.”27 By the 1980s, Penn, tired of the printed page, redirected his attention to making editioned, platinum/palladium prints of urban detritus, such as

© LOUISE DAHL -WOLFE. Harper’s Bazar cover, June 1953. Photo offset. Over the course of 22 years with Harper’s Bazaar, Dahl-Wolfe made over eighty covers for the magazine during a time when it was an anomaly for women to be at the top of their profession. Her meticulously planned photographs assisted in defining the look, feel, and spirit of the modern, liberated woman who worked, traveled and lived with verve. In her autobiography, A Photographer’s Scrapbook (1984) she wrote: “You have to study color like the scales of the piano. It’s really scientific. Later you can depend on whether you have either taste or imagination.”23 COURTESY

Louise Dahl-Wolfe/Center for Creative Photography/Arizona Board of

Regents

the styles of photographers such as Lisette Model, Irving Penn, Richard Avedon, Louise Dahl-Wolfe (1895–1989), Hiro, and Robert Frank. In addition, Brodovitch influenced people in the business who saw his ideas in ink each month on the pages of Harper’s Bazaar and who began to imitate them, making his ideas prototypical of today’s fashion magazines.

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cigarette butts, and still lifes of bones and skulls. Regardless of subject matter, Penn’s preoccupation with perfection in refined balance and tonal subtlety prunes away the inconsequential, smooths over established hierarchies, and keeps his subject emotionally detached for contemplation. A believer in the “less is more” theory, as advocated by German-American architect Ludwig Mies van der Rohe (1886–1969), Penn said: If you had two apples to photograph and could dispense with one, you would have more apple in the remaining one. I know this in terms of communication, though not necessarily in terms of esthetics.28

Working in Paris, London, and New York in the early 1950s, Penn used a square-format camera to make studio representations of skilled tradespeople dressed in their work clothes and holding the tools of their occupations. Penn’s exacting use of a neutral cloth backdrop, fashioned from an old theater curtain, in conjunction with natural side lighting gave his subjects a blank space to simply and elegantly present themselves. Final images were made produced in both gelatin silver and platinum/ palladium prints. French, British, and American editions of Vogue magazine published selections of the photographs from each city. Summing up his methodology, Penn stated: “Taking people away from their natural circumstances and putting them in the studio in front of a camera did not simply isolate them, it transformed them.”29 Richard Avedon (1923–2004) studied with Brodovitch after spending World War II making thousands of ID photos for the merchant marines. Under Brodovitch’s mentoring eye, and later with art director Marvin Israel (1924–1984), Avedon’s work for the printed page was instrumental in casting the “look” of fashionable post-World War II women. His control of pose and facial expression depicted women as astute, resourceful, amused, and entertaining. For twenty years Avedon’s personality

© IRVING PENN. Jean Patchett, Vogue (U.S.), cover, April 1, 1950. 8.25 x 11.7 inches. Photo offset. Between 1943 and 2004 Penn fashioned 165 Vogue magazine covers. This was his first in black-and-white, and the first non-color Vogue cover published since May 1932.

portraits of women and men, appearing in  Harper’s Bazaar, shaped how America regarded public figures from President Eisenhower to Marilyn Monroe. Photographers often acted as producers whose assistants carried out their plans. This production strategy, common in fashion photography, creates a hierarchical system of patronage for advancement. Hiro (Wakabayashi Yasuhiro, 1930–2021), a protégé of Avedon, worked his way through this

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© RICHARD AVEDON. In the American West book cover, 1985. 14 × 11 inches. Photo offset. In the American West was made during the summers from 1979 to 1984, when Avedon and his assistants traveled through the 17 Western states searching for people who corresponded to Avedon’s preconceptions that favored those living on the fringe of society. In making the 752 individual portraits, Avedon exposed 17,000 sheets of film with an 8 x 10-inch Deardorff view camera. As Avedon stated: “A portrait photographer depends upon another person to complete his picture. The subject imagined, which in a sense is me, must be discovered in someone else willing to take part in a fiction he cannot possibly know about. My concerns are not his. We have separate ambitions for the image. His need to plead his case probably goes as deep as mine, but the control is with me.”30

structure and gained recognition by isolating the glamorous details of fashion and by actively presenting a mix of colors that visually flattered material status icons often included in the composition. Such an atelier/studio approach runs contrary to the modernist sentiment of a single genius whose hand touches every phase of the masterpiece, yet it is consistent with the practice of studio photography since

the days of the daguerreotype. In seeking the prestige of the “high” culture, photographers run the risk of losing the broader impact that the “low” culture of the printed page affords. Avedon actively promoted his work as crossing the imaginary boundaries of the commercial and art worlds. His large format studio practice of isolating people from their environment embraced

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the details of facts over idealizations. Avedon’s visual mapping can be traced to his reading of French novelist Marcel Proust’s  In Search of Lost Time  (published 1913–1927) for insight into societal behavior, manners, and social structures, pursuing a theme that linked external events and internal reality to show how time influences memory.31 This led Avedon away from the printed page and onto the gallery wall where his productions, such as In the American West (1985), required enormous prints that read more like topographic maps than portraits.32  He maintained representational power during these fleeting relationships, shaping the outcome in a way that abstracts his subjects from their natural environment. Avedon succeeded in crossing the borders of art and commerce by sequestering and presenting that which made his subjects exceptional, as in his sequence of his dying father which incorporated personal subject matter with formal studio strategies.

fashion and fame Photography broke down the doors of privacy. Compared with cartes de visite and lithographs, the halftone and the printed page provided an expanded means to address the public’s yearning for celebrity portraits. The public’s thirst for images of the famous, as surrogates for their own mingling in a Proustian society for which they had no calling card, encouraged editors to eagerly translate them into ink. George Hurrell’s (1904–1992) studio portraits of Hollywood stars presented the dream of glamour and perfection that provided a fantasy relief from the images of the Great Depression as portrayed by the FSA photographers. Through his expert lighting and retouching, Hurrell created beautiful, dramatic, and emotionally intense images that Hollywood studios distributed to fan clubs and magazines, and the public gobbled them up.

© GEORGE HURRELL. Ramón Novarro, promotional photograph, n/d. Dimensions variable. Gelatin silver print. During Hollywood’s glamour period of the 1930 and 1940s, Hurrell photographed every movie star that worked with the MGM studio including Joan Crawford, Greta Garbo, Rita Hayworth, and Humphrey Bogart, among others. His black-and-white portraits were sophisticatedly composed to convey iconic elegance. Unlike other studio photographers, Hurrell was recognized for printing his own work to achieve the highest aesthetic and technical standards. His color work was made to fit the needs of mass circulation in magazines such as Photoplay (1911–1980), which was one of the first and most successful of the American film fan magazines.

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© PHILIPPE HALSMAN. Vice President Richard Nixon, White House, 1955. Variable dimensions. Gelatin silver print. The Jump Book paper jacket flaps stated: “This book contains something you have probably never seen before; 178 of today’s most important and famous people—jumping.” The collection included celebrities such as Salvador Dali, Gene Kelly, Marilyn Monroe, Richard Nixon, J. Robert Oppenheimer, and Adlai Stevenson. COURTESY  Philippe Halsman Archive.

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The publishing world’s desire to promote and capitalize on the notion of fame can be seen in  Philippe Halsman’s (1906–1979) incisive portraits that appeared on over 100 covers of  Life  as well as in magazines such as the  Saturday Evening Post  and  Paris Match. Halsman believed the portraitist’s most important tools were conversation and psychology,  not technique. A self-taught photographer, Halsman claimed his greatest influences were the Russian masters of literary psychology, Fyodor Dostoyevsky (1821–1881) and Leo Tolstoy (1828– 1910). Halsman utilized playful methods, like picturing people while jumping into the air, to unmask his subjects and divulge their essence. This concept, published as  Philippe Halsman’s Jump Book  (1959), expanded his working repertoire to include multifaceted views designed to simultaneously reveal different aspects of celebrity personalities. For over half a century, Armenian/Canadian Yousuf Karsh (1908–2002) created formal environmental portraits with dramatic lighting for numerous publications. Karsh’s heroic and pictorialist application of incandescent lighting that rendered highlights and shadows with clarity and textural richness, appealed to audiences of the printed page. Regardless of a subject’s historical or social position, Karsh’s lighting fused a sitter’s personality with their abilities, and he played off the myths attached to their personas, such as interpreting Ernest Hemingway as the archetype for his novel The Old Man and the Sea (1952). When applied to a commercial product, his lighting conveyed a sense of competence, making the product appear well-made and worthy of purchase. By means of symbols and the arrangement of the figure within the space of his compositions, Arnold Newman  (1918–2006) visually orchestrated the interior concerns of his sitters. Newman’s favorite procedure involved bringing his studio to his subjects, integrating their personalities with their surroundings, and thereby affirming the subject’s personality, position, occupation, and status to an unfamiliar audience. At times, the photographer’s

© YOUSUF KARSH. Winston Churchill, Life cover, May 21, 1941. 10½ × 14 inches. Photo offset. Nicknamed “The Roaring Lion,” Karsh’s portrait of a 67-year-old Prime Minister Winston Churchill was made in a brief photo session. Before making the exposure, Karsh asked Churchill to put down his cigar, as the smoke would adversely affect the image quality. He refused. Just as Karsh was about to make the exposure, he reached out and took the cigar from Churchill lips. Karsh later reported: “He looked so belligerent, he could have devoured me.”33 The resulting fiercely defiant and scowling portrait became the personification of Britain’s stand against totalitarian tyranny.

explorations of the essence of his subject led him to adopt unconventional means. Newman’s collage portrait of pioneer kinetic artist Agam (Rishon Letzion) broke up the edges of the frame and destroyed Renaissance perspective, actively portraying a sense of the artist’s work in which the view metamorphoses as a spectator walks by sculptural works constructed with air, light, and water.

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Michelangelo Antonioni’s film  Blow-Up  (1966), modeled on British photographer David Bailey (b. 1938) who has made over 300 Vogue covers, personified the pop culture values of “swinging London” during the 1960s. It set up the fashion photographer as an unparalleled figure whose self-appointed job involved experiencing and photographing every new trend. This made being a photographer very appealing to the counterculture generation, who began to take photography and film-making courses in growing numbers. By the 1970s, fashion not only covered almost any topical event but it also represented women in new ways on the printed page. Helmut Newton’s (1920–2004) controversial images, such as in White Women (1976), depicted women as aggressive and sexual, but have been criticized as degrading to women. Nevertheless, he was highly influential and his provocative work regularly appeared in Vogue. At the same time, the work of more women photographers began to appear regularly in ink. The ethereal color work of Sarah Moon (Marielle Warin) (a.k.a Marielle Hadengue, b. 1941), Joyce Tenneson (b. 1945), and Deborah Turbeville (1932–2013) is subdued, offering a softer and suffused sensation of the social and sexual circumstances of women. Their commercial approach downplayed the hard sell in favor of a subliminal tack, establishing a relationship between a product and the promise of achieving the experience depicted in the advertisement. Rather than portraying a product’s virtues, for instance, a photograph might show two people embracing, suggesting that the product would also deliver extra effects like fulfillment, happiness, and love. A side effect of this type of repetitive message has been the public’s ability to make similar connections from less literal renditions as well. The pace quickened and became more fragmentary during the 1980s, influenced by the rapid and more spontaneous-looking media productions pioneered by MTV. People’s awareness of how fashion photography can influence culture has

© ARNOLD NEWMAN. Pablo Picasso, Vallauris, France, 1954. 12 3⁄16 x 12 5⁄16 inches. Gelatin silver print collage. Arnold Newman is known for his popularizing environmental portraits of major cultural figures, such as Aaron Copland, Donald Judd, Igor Stravinsky, and Pablo Picasso. During his lifetime, Picasso probably had his portrait made more often than any other twentiethcentury artist. Such portraits assisted him in fabricating the myth of the mutable bald-head genius with the penetrating gaze. Picasso was a celebrity before he was thirty and he sustained that status beyond the grave, thanks in part to photography. COURTESY  Arnold Newman/Getty Images.

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© DAVID BAILEY. Jean Shrimpton, Vogue (British), cover, January 1969.

© SARAH MOON. Harper’s Bazaar cover (British), April, 1969.

8.25 x 11.7 inches. Photo Offset.

8.25 x 11.7 inches. Photo Offset.

David Bailey informs us: “Being dyslexic, I was told that I was an idiot all

Sarah Moon was a model who changed her name and turned

the time… When you’re dyslexic it pushes you into doing things like painting

photographer. Moon was initially recognized for her work that captured

and photography.”34 This led him to construct a distinct photographic oeuvre

the stylish atmosphere of London after the “swinging sixties.” Later she

characterized by white backgrounds, bold cropping, and unconventional poses.

shifted into gallery and film work known for its soft-focus, dream-like,

Bailey presented the public with a culture of celebrity and fashion including The

sensual depictions of femininity. “For me, photography is pure fiction,

Beatles, Michael Caine, David Hockney, Mick Jagger, Jean Shrimpton, and

even if it comes from life,” Moon has said. “I start from nothing. I make

Andy Warhol. Bailey says: “The pictures I take are simple and direct and about

up a story that remains untold, I imagine a situation that doesn’t really

the person I’m photographing and not about me. I spend more time talking to the

exist, I watch out for what I didn’t expect, I wait to see what I can’t

person than I do taking pictures.”35

remember, I undo what I had put together.”37

also increased. In 1997, for instance, President Bill Clinton criticized the fashion industry for exalting the drug culture with its “heroin chic” pictures of emaciated, sunken-eyed young women and tattooed men.36

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NEWSPAPERS

office translated into a loss of newsworthiness. On a daily basis, editors learned that photographs could be a visual shorthand, surpassing words when conveying concrete, everyday incidents such as fires, staged ceremonies, and action-oriented sporting events. News photographs succeeded by letting viewers examine penetrating moments of human behavior at their kitchen tables with coffee cup in

Newspapers were slower than magazines to incorporate photographs. It took time to discover how photography could best report the news. Until the transmission of images via the telephone (telephotography) became reliable in the mid-1930s, the delays in getting photographs back to the home

© WEEGEE (ARTHUR FELLIG). Their First Murder, October 9, 1941. Variable dimensions. Gelatin silver print. Weegee’s skill in communicating revealing moments of working-class New York City life cemented a strong emotional connection between his subjects and his viewers, making him successful in both the tabloid media and the fine-art world. Weegee once told his friend Peter Martin: “Messages? I have no time for messages in my pictures. That’s for Western Union and the Salvation Army. I take a picture of a dozen sleeping slum kids curled up on a fire escape on a hot summer night. Maybe I like the crazy situation, or the way they look like a litter of new puppies crammed together like that, or maybe it just fits with a series of sleeping people I’m doing. But 12 out of 13 people looked at the picture and told me I’d really got a message in that one, and that it had social overtones.”38 COURTESY  International Center of Photography, New York, NY/Getty Images.

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hand. Regularly covered events, like political meetings, that appeared boring when photographed as news could be spiced up with a caption supplied by a reporter. The golden period of American news photography began in the 1920s and continued through the late 1950s when it was displaced by television news. Newspapers organized their own local staffs and labs and established reliable sources for nonlocal events, as new methods of reproduction convinced management that images and text could be readily printed together. By providing the same format 365 days a year, newspapers created a routine that smoothed over individual and stylistic differences among photographers and provided a comforting rhythm of dependability. Practical and affordable, the synchronized flashlight expanded the subject possibilities of the photojournalist, not only providing illumination but also delineating a spry sense of visual space. The glaring white light froze the subjects, revealed secrets, and brought them forward out of the darkness to be scrutinized. Whatever a flashlight image lacked in naturalness it made up for in its forceful, graphic simplification, creating a sense of melodrama that was highly effective in the tabloid press. Weegee (Arthur Fellig) (1899–1968) represents an ingenious user of flash as a news-gathering tool from this golden period. Like other notable photojournalists and street photographers, Weegee had the gift of “prophecy,” a sixth sense enabling him to stay ahead of an unfolding event and to know exactly when to release his blazing flash. Named after Ouija, a board game that claims to predict the future, Weegee scooped the competition by monitoring police and fire radio dispatches, sleeping in his clothes, and having a car outfitted with a makeshift office and darkroom in the trunk. Weegee’s direct, frontal, and synchronized flash assault produced unrefined and titillating images that broke through society’s veneer, presenting a raw, spontaneous, pessimistic, and even primeval view of humanity.

Dressed in a trench coat, wearing a fedora, smoking a cigar, carrying a 4 × 5-inch Speed Graphic with a flashgun, and making sarcastic remarks, Weegee could have been keeping company with the literary characters Sam Spade and Mike Hammer. His pictures, like those in Naked City (1945), speak in the same blunt, uninvolved, and unrefined tone as a Dashiell Hammett or a Mickey Spillane noir pulp detective novel. Weegee’s working style was the mantra “f/8 and be there.”39 No fancy techniques, just an instinctive  response to the situation, with structure later imposed through darkroom cropping or a picture editor. This intuitive method was ideal for tabloid picture news, giving the look and feel of an event the reader was not present to see in person. The task of interpretation was left to a caption editor, who gave each image an appropriate moral, political, or social accompaniment. Removed from its journalistic bonds, Weegee’s work can transcend its news time and take on the distressingly symbolic form of a morality tale by a fabulist whose aggressiveness and antagonism toward his subjects gives his caricatures piercing believability. An overlooked aspect of Weegee’s work was his interest in abstraction, which can be seen in Naked City  (1945) where he utilized an unexposed, processed, and printed sheet of film to provide a black ground for a sequence of ridiculous jokes. Over time, Weegee experimented with prisms to create nonrepresentational patterns and plastic lenses to produce distortions. He published numerous books, made short films, and collaborated with film directors including Stanley Kubrick in the making of Dr. Strangelove or: How I Stopped Worrying and Learned to Love the Bomb (1964).

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WAR REPORTAGE

recognized as vital to the war effort of all sides to influence public opinion. As World War II loomed, newsgathering organizations and publications shifted their emphasis from features to hard news from the war fronts. When America went to war, so did many of its photographers, including Captain Edward Steichen, who served as Director of Navy Combat Photography.  Life  sent photographers to the fronts and ran a school for army photographers. The country came to rely on picture magazines’ empathic style of photojournalism to stay abreast of events, even before September 1943 when government censorship had prevented the publication of pictures showing Allied “dirty work” or dead American soldiers. It also reveals how World War II legitimized an unprecedented targeting of noncombatants and civilians’ centers and in turn, how the governments sought to control the context of photographs that depicted the consequences of these policies. Reportage-style photography continued to be reshaped by the wars of the twentieth century. Smaller cameras and faster films encouraged war correspondents to risk their lives by getting into the thick of the action and recording what they saw. This new generation was not as concerned with reporting the official story and delivered images that were less inhibited by censorship and the need to make propaganda. Robert Capa (André Friedmann) (1913–1954) and his volatile picture of Russian revolutionary Leon Trotsky ushered in his flamboyant career of covering political movements and war. His most renowned image, which Capa claimed was of “a Spanish soldier the instant he is dropped by a bullet through the head”41  while his shadow still appears to be standing, freezes a moment of death as a powerful symbol that counters the romantic, adventurist illusions of war. However, new research makes a case that this iconic image was staged.42 His terse approach, analogous to his writer friend Ernest Hemingway’s (1889–1961)

Often scholars of press photography make the case that modern photojournalism begins with photographers such as Robert Capa, Gerda Taro (Gerta Pohorylle), and Los Hermanos Mayo (The Mayo Brothers)40  who covered the Spanish Civil War (1936–1939). However, these same historians often overlook English photojournalist Jimmy Hare (1856–1946) whose photographs, created during the Mexican Revolution (1911–1917), contain characteristics that helped define contemporary photojournalism including: use of a handheld camera so that a photographer can get involved in the action; spontaneous rather than posed compositions; the inclusion of movement as opposed to static, setup scenes; and an allegiance to a particular side of the conflict instead of being a neutral observer. Covering five major wars, Hare’s photographs helped propel Collier’s (1888–1957) circulation, known for its emphasis on halftone news reproductions to promote an agenda of investigative reporting and social reform, to over one million by 1917. During the interwar years, photographs became a new and powerful form of media, which was

© ROBERT CAPA. Leon Trotsky, Copenhagen, 1931. 8 7⁄8 x 13 7⁄16 inches. Gelatin silver print. COURTESY  Robert Capa and Magnum Photos, New York.

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ROBERT CAPA. The Falling Soldier (a.k.a Death of a Loyalist Militiaman), Spain. 1936. Dimensions vary. Gelatin silver print. The Falling Soldier has been considered one of the most remarkable war photographs. Capa described how he took the photograph in a 1947 radio interview: “I was there in the trench with about twenty milicianos … I just kind of put my camera above my head and even [sic] didn’t look and clicked the picture, when they moved over the trench. And that was all. … [T]hat camera which I hold [sic] above my head just caught a man at the moment when he was shot. That was probably the best picture I ever took. I never saw the picture in the frame because the camera was far above my head.”43 Upon publication of the photograph, General Francisco Franco’s fascist Falange, an extreme nationalist political group in Spain, claimed the photograph was staged. However, the rest of the democratic world considered it a legitimate documentary photograph until the 1970s when allegations that Capa staged the scene began to arise.44 COURTESY

Robert Capa © International Center of Photography 

war novels, such as  A Farewell to Arms  (1929) and  For Whom the Bell Tolls  (1940), put him actively into the fray. Known for his intensity, a Mexican Tzeltal preacher who watched him work observed: “He is like an iguana sitting on a log. Not even his head moves—only his eyes.”45 Whether it was China, the beaches of Normandy, Israel, or finally Vietnam, where he was killed by a landmine, Capa’s working dictum was: “If your pictures

are not good enough, you aren’t close enough.”46  A self-declared “gambler,” from 1941 to 1946, he was a war correspondent for LIFE and Collier’s. Capa went in on the first wave of the 1944 D-Day invasion, only to have all but eight of his exposures ruined by an excited darkroom assistant. This account has also been questioned.47  Capa was so animated, these blurry and grainy images give the sense that he was capable of recording events that

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1948 and resulted in the publication  Children of Europe (1949). Cartier-Bresson wrote of Seymour: “Chim picked up his camera the way a doctor takes a stethoscope out of this bag, applying his diagnosis to the condition of the heart; his own heart was vulnerable.” 50 Chim became president of Magnum upon Capa’s death, but he too was killed a few years later,  by an Egyptian machine-gunner four days after the Armistice at Suez. World War II was the first conflict in which photographers actively expressed empathy with the daily life of the soldiers and the victims of war. The images of Margaret Bourke-White, Elizabeth Lee Miller  (1907–1977), and George Rodger (1908–1995) depicting the widespread devastation and concentration camp victims, provided visual evidence of the Nazis’ indescribable war crimes against civilians. As the death camps were considered to be a state secret and photography of daily events was forbidden, their publication denied the executioners their wish to erase their acts of barbarism and the millions of people they murdered from human memory. Additionally, such depictions of a complete lack of a moral compass revealed the disappearance of God as a living presence in European civilization.51 The Holocaust was the first genocide photographed from multiple points of view: by the killers, the by-standers, and even the victims; photography validated the undeniability of the Shoah. Previously, very few people were familiar with photographs of European Jewish life before the Holocaust and Łódź ghetto existence during the Shoah as documented by Mendel Grossman (1913–1945) and Henryk Ross (1910–1991). This was because most were made under dreadful circumstances by private individuals with no official status who lacked the means to circulate them. It was not until decades after the Holocaust that these and other photo-based materials came to wider public attention, drastically altering the classic Holocaust narrative based on German and Allied archives with their

© DAVID SEYMOUR. Tereska, a Polish child in a home for disturbed children, 1948. 12½ × 10 inches. Gelatin silver print. The Life caption about this child who grew up in a concentration camp read: “Children’s wounds are not all outward. Those made in the mind by years of sorrow will take years to heal. In Warsaw, at an institute which cares for some of Europe’s thousands of ‘disturbed’ children, a Polish girl named Tereska was asked to make a picture of her home. These terrible scratches are what she drew.”48 COURTESY  David Seymour and Magnum Photos, New York.

occurred even too quickly for his camera’s fastest shutter speed. Capa was instrumental in forming Magnum Photos (1946),49 the first cooperative photographic agency managed by photographers. David Seymour (David Szymin) (1911–1956), who went by the nom de photo of “Chim,” shared a darkroom with Robert Capa and Cartier-Bresson in Paris. He was a combat photographer whose documentation for UNESCO of the effects of war in Europe on children were published by  Life  in

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LEE MILLER. Buchenwald, Germany: Dead Prisoners, April 30, 1945. Variable dimensions. Gelatin silver print. Images of concentration camp victims, made by Miller and reproduced in Life, provided conclusive evidence that Germany had engaged in the systematic extermination of Jews, gypsies, homosexuals, and other so-called undesirables whom they demonized as unalterably dangerous, evil, and unredeemable.52 At the time, when the world was oblivious to what took place in Nazi concentration camps, Miller, a former model, surrealistic muse, and fashion photographer, wrote in a telegram: “I IMPLORE YOU TO BELIEVE THIS IS TRUE!” The June 1945 American edition of Vogue printed some of Miller’s death camp photographs along with the message: “Believe It.”53 David Douglas Duncan’s (1916‒2018) dramatic Korean War coverage in Life and his book, This Is War (1951), similarly showed war’s complexities and that it was not full of glory but of the crying and dying of young American soldiers. © Lee Miller Archives, England 2024. All rights reserved. www.leemiller.co.uk

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© ALBERTO ERRARA. Auschwitz Sonderkommandos. No. 280, framed by the gas chamber’s doorway or window (detail) shows bodies waiting to be burned in an outdoor fire pit near crematorium V in Auschwitz II-Birkenau, 1944. The Sonderkommandos (special command unit) were groups of young, relatively healthy, male Jewish prisoners forced to perform a variety of duties in the gas chambers and crematoria of the Nazi camp system. Despite the ban on photography and the ever-present threat of execution, a group of Sonderkommandos used a smuggled camera and film as a weapon of resistance to record their living horror show as an act of defiance as they feared nobody would believe what was happening. It is thought that a Jewish, Greek prisoner, Alberto Errara (who did not survive), with the assistance of others in his unit, made four photographs depicting their gruesome work near the gas chambers at Auschwitz-Birkenau, which were smuggled out by the Polish resistance.54 COURTESY

Auschwitz-Birkenau State Museum, Oświęcim, Poland.

emphasis on passive enslavement and liberation of the European Jews. William Eugene Smith (1918–1978) was a war correspondent for  Life  who, after being seriously wounded at Okinawa in 1945, committed himself to “try and take what voice I have and give it to those who don’t have one at all.”55  After recuperating, Smith produced three dramatically heroic and penetrating photo-essays for the magazine: Country

Doctor  (September 20, 1948),  The Spanish Village (April 9, 1951), and Nurse Midwife (December 3, 1951).56 Smith constantly fought against picture stories put together by an editor, believing that the “photo-essay has to be thought out, with each picture in relationship to the others, the same way you would write an essay.”57 In Country Doctor his photographs convey a sense of who this doctor is, without any

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© W. EUGENE SMITH. Nurse Midwife: Maude Callen Eases Pain of Birth, Life and Death (Life, December 3, 1951). 13 3⁄8× 10½ inches (each page). Photo offset. Nurse Midwife was the first serious essay in a mainline American publication to feature, a dozen pages with 20 images, an African American in a professional context. Smith said: “I was fighting racism without ever making racism the point. I had long crusaded against racism, not by hitting people over the head with a hammer, but by compassionate understanding, presenting something that people could learn from, so they could make up their own minds.”58 After the piece was published, LIFE subscribers sent donations to help Mrs. Callen build a clinic in Pineville, where Mrs. Callen worked until her retirement in 1971.

editorializing text. Smith’s way of working propelled the photo-essay away from  Life’s imposed format, which led viewers through stories, and toward an interpretive explanation discovered by the photographer. He claimed to have learned how to do this by listening to Beethoven.59 Smith also went against accepted journalistic practice by masterfully organizing his compositions and manipulating his prints to clarify the feeling he wanted to present. His photographs for Spanish Village, depicting daily life in rural Spain during the rule of dictator Francisco Franco, were pivotal because they made the entire village, rather than one individual, the champion of the story. Smith’s humanitarian concerns are manifested in his last

and most extended work, Minamata (1975), a photo-essay about the effects of industrial pollution on a Japanese fishing village. The waters of Minamata Bay were being poisoned by industrial mercury discharge, resulting in birth defects across a generation of children. While making these photographs, Smith received a terrible beating from company goons that may have shortened his life. Smith’s position was to affirm that photography can help bring about social change by stressing that “to cause awareness is our only strength.” 60 In 1966, Cornell Capa (1918–2008), Robert Capa’s brother and a Magnum photojournalist whose work appeared extensively in Life, established the International Fund for Concerned Photography

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at a time when picture magazines were being displaced by electronic media images, mainly video at that time. In 1968, Capa stated that “the production demands and controls exercised by the mass communications media on the photographer today are endangering our artistic, ethical, and professional standards and tend to obliterate the individuality of the witness-artist.”61 Initially, the fund exhibited and published the work of Werner Bischof (1916–1954), Robert Capa, David Seymour, André Kertész, Leonard Freed (1929–2006), and Dan Weiner (1919–1959). Known as  The Concerned Photographer, this project linked their images with the “humanitarian-with-a-camera” work of Lewis Hine that “demands personal commitment and concern for mankind.”62

Cornell Capa wrote: “The role of the photographer is to witness and to be involved with his subject. The role of the Fund is to encourage and assist such involvement, to preserve and to stress the value of conservation.”63 Cornell Capa widened the activities of this group to include its own gallery, archive, and teaching facility. In 1974, Capa opened the International Center of Photography (ICP) in New York, serving as its director until 1994. During Capa’s tenure ICP exhibited many photographers who practiced his brand of “humanist photography.” Beginning with Shomei Tomatsu’s (1930–2012) and Hiromi Tsuchida’s (b. 1939) documentation that draws on the long-term aftermath of the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and on through the Vietnam War, photographers had an almost continuous series of global war tragedies to chronicle.64  The common denominators many of these photographers shared were an optimistic belief in a humanistic universalism, as expressed in the MoMA’s 1955 The Family of Man exhibition, that celebrated the existence of an eternal human essence, and dignified the individuals photographed, and regarded the suffering of one as the suffering of all. They also viewed photography as a universal language.65 Don McCullin’s (b. 1935) horrific images of the atrocities in the Congo, Northern Ireland, Vietnam, Biafra, and Lebanon were published as Hearts of Darkness (1981), a book that presents its deathly verdict through the images’ accumulated effect. The combining of imagery from around the world presents bodily suffering as a collective experience. The danger for both the photographer and viewer of such an approach is that over time each individual crisis loses its identity, taking on similar attributes that numb the public to all such situations. As a habituated traveler into the realm of human anguish, McCullin challenges those who want to remain uninformed about the world and seek shelter in imaginative cinematic/video violence that takes visual pleasure in apocalypses. However, McCullin also tells us:

© DON MCCULLIN. Tet Offensive, Hue (Fallen North Vietnamese soldier, his personal effects scattered by body-plundering soldiers), 1968. 16½ × 11¾ inches. Gelatin silver print. In a discussion with the artist and filmmaker Isaac Julien, McCullin also talked about his discomfort at being called an artist. “I’ve always thought photography is not so much of an art form but a way of communicating and passing on information,” he said. “Many people misunderstand me—I’m quite happy to be called a photographer. All of a sudden, the art world has caught up with photography and they are trying to hijack us. I’ve spent most of my life embracing violence in wars and revolutions. Even a famine is a form of violence. Because I photograph people in peril, people in pain, people being executed in front of me, I find it very difficult to get my head around the art narrative of photography. I’ve managed to push it back and retain my place by just accepting that I’m a photographer.”66 COURTESY  Contact Press Images.

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in Vietnam had almost unrestricted access to the action. Debate erupted around whether such images caused people to question America’s right to be fighting this faraway war, and this debate fueled the ranks of protesters  demonstrating to end the conflict. Politicians blamed the media for undermining their authority, but photojournalist Philip Jones Griffiths (1936–2008), whose book  Vietnam, Inc. (1971) offers an incisive analysis of the war, gives a different account:

Many people send me letters in England saying, “I want to be a war photographer” and I say, go out into the community that you live in. There’s wars going on out there, you don’t have to go halfway around the world on an airplane where there are bombs and shells. There are social wars that are worthwhile. I don’t want to encourage people to think photography is only necessary through the tragedy of war.67

Henry Frank Leslie “Larry” Burrows  (1926– 1971) spent nine years covering the Vietnam War before being killed when his helicopter was shot down over Laos. Burrows’s groundbreaking serial use of color for  Life  formed part of the wave of appalling images that infiltrated America’s living rooms. For most people color added a layer of compelling reality. Unlike in previous wars, journalists

I would say 99 percent of all journalists in Vietnam approved of the war and 85 percent approved of the way the war was being fought… So, the popular conception—misconception—by the public at large and the Reagan administration, that allowing all the press into Vietnam caused us to lose the war [is incorrect]. In

LARRY BURROWS. Reaching Out, Operation Prairie, Nui Cay Tri (during the aftermath of taking hill 484, South Vietnam), 1966. Variable dimensions. Dye imbibition print.© Larry Burrows Collection 2024.

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attack.69 The second is Edward (Eddie) T. Adams’s (1933–2004) photograph of a South Vietnamese general and chief of police firing a bullet into a suspected Vietcong prisoner’s head, without a trial. Adams’s photograph has taken on mythical proportions. With his hands tied behind his back, the victim’s contorted face at the instant of death transforms the event and has become a symbol of the bitter Vietnam legacy. The picture made Adams well-known at the  expense of his other work, making him a one-image photographer. Adams wrote about the remorse he felt as his image took

fact, for the most part, the press in those early years was instrumental in making the war continue because most of what was recorded by the press was very, very pro the military intervention there.68

Most wars are summed up in public memory by a few images. From Vietnam, two photographs have especially held the public’s attention. The first is Huynh Cong “Nick” Ut’s (b. 1951) wrenching image, Terror of War (1972), picturing a hysterical girl who has ripped off her burning clothes, fleeing down the road after an accidental aerial napalm

© EDDIE ADAMS. Saigon, 1968. Variable dimensions. Gelatin silver print. South Vietnamese General Nguyen Ngoc Loan, chief of the National Police, fires his pistol into the head of suspected Viet Cong officer Nguyen Van Lem (a.k.a Captain Báy Lop) on a Saigon street, February 1, 1968, early in the Tet Offensive. COURTESY  Associated Press Images.

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on a barbaric meaning that was shaped by people’s disgust for the war:

Clinton’s impeachment (1998–1999), can indeed alter the outcome. The seeming truthfulness of photography overpowers even an adroit viewing public watching cable news. This is important because live television coverage has supplanted photographic coverage. During the 1991 Persian Gulf War, CNN featured a video clip (provided by the U.S. military) of a “smart bomb” going down a chimney and blowing up a targeted building. This video clip was replayed over and over until it symbolized the entire sanitized military operation in which death was not pictured. Unger believes that “until viewers come to understand that seeing is not necessarily believing, that  caveat emptor  (let the buyer beware) applies to news as well as commerce.”74 This warning, that people may misinterpret or be purposely misled by photographs, has proven to be prophetic as news organizations cut staffing and rely more on so-called “citizen journalists” to provide immediate coverage of fast-breaking stories without any professional training (see section Bytes of News at the end of this chapter).

In taking that picture, I had destroyed his [the South Vietnamese general’s] life. For General Loan had become a man condemned both in his country and in America because he had killed an enemy in war. People do this all the time in war, but rarely is a photographer there to record the act.70

After his story appeared, the picture took on a different meaning when Adams received letters from U.S. military officers stating that the victim was a known Vietcong lieutenant who had murdered a South Vietnamese major, his wife, and their children.71 The question of whether the people at home get an accurate representation of events during wars or misleading dramatic highlights surfaced again during the 1994 American invasion of Haiti. David Unger of  The New York Times  wrote: “Perhaps photojournalism operates on some variant of the Heisenberg uncertainty principle, which holds that efforts to measure some things may alter [the] phenomenon they’re part of. That is, taking a picture can change the Big Picture.”72 Can a picture change the outcome of an event? Images can affect viewers in different ways, and people often see what they want to see when looking at a picture. In the Rodney King case (1991), for example, four white police officers stopped a Black man for driving drunk and then beat him for resisting their commands. The incident was captured on videotape, which led to indictments of those officers who carried out the violence.73 Many were convinced that the video evidence guaranteed a conviction. When a jury didn’t see it that way and refused to convict, rioting broke out. Others believe that intense television coverage surrounding sensational court cases where all the participants play to the truth of the camera, like the O. J. Simpson murder trial (1995) and President Bill

THE NEW SUBJECTIVE JOURNALISM Beginning with the assassination of President John F. Kennedy in 1963 and throughout the civil rights struggle and the Vietnam War of the 1960s, television progressively became the dominant news source for most Americans. To compete, photographers often adopted more subjective, stylized, or satiric approaches like the new British style of reporting associated with  Martin Parr  (b. 1952) and his work such as The Last Resort: Photographs of New Brighton  (1986), which reveals the disconnect between expectations and reality, in saturated colors instead of traditional shades of gray. This body of work, which established Parr’s style, records

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© MARTIN PARR. New Brighton, Merseyside, 1983–1986. Variable dimensions. Chromogenic color print. The photographs comprising The Last Resort were taken during a period of economic decline in northwest England. They depict a seaside resort past its prime with attractions designed to appeal to an economically depressed working class: overcrowded beaches, video arcades, beauty competitions, tea rooms, and chip shops populated by day trippers seeking affordable distractions. Parr stated: “I’m less interested in the fact that these people aren’t well off financially as in the fact that they have to deal with screaming kids, like anyone has to … I’m also interested in making the photographs work on another level, showing how British society is decaying; how this once great society is falling apart.”75 COURTESY  Martin Parr and Magnum Photos, New York.

© SUSAN MEISELAS. Youths Practice Throwing Contact Bombs in Forest Surrounding Monimbo, 1978. Variable dimensions. Dye destruction print. Susan Meiselas’s work is an example of how life can become art: The hero in Peter Weir’s film The Year of Living Dangerously (1982) was loosely based on Meiselas’s Nicaraguan experiences. COURTESY  Susan Meiselas and Magnum Photos, New York.

bemusing social behavior while subtly highlighting political and social conditions. When Life’s editorially driven style of photojournalism economically collapsed in the early 1970s, alternatives developed that were more receptive to new voices, including those of women and minorities. Publishers began to market books of captioned photographs with condensed texts. The new format offered documentary photographers, such as Jill Krementz (b. 1940), the first female staff photographer for the New York Herald-Tribune and author of dozens of photography and children’s books, who later specialized in photographing writers and Susan Meiselas  (b. 1948), best known for her books  The Carnival Strippers  (1976) and  Nicaragua  (1981),

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© MARY ELLEN MARK. Lillie, Seattle, from the series Streetwise, 1983. 9 × 13 7⁄16 inches. Gelatin silver print. Mark said “I’m interested in the guy that doesn’t have all the breaks in life and people who live on the edge… I photograph them because they have a certain passion and humanity that really interests me. I would like my pictures to be a voice for them. Photography is about seeing the world in your own peculiar and personal way.” 76 COURTESY  George Eastman Museum, Rochester, NY.

but also received funding from not-for-profit groups for projects that were exhibited in museums and published as books. Her working style did not fit the superficial, drive-by treatment that deadline-driven journalists typically work within. Mark’s treatment required time to develop a relationship between the photographer and the subjects, as seen in her books,  Ward 81  (1979),  Falkland Road: Prostitutes of Bombay  (1981),  Streetwise  (1988), and  Indian Circus  (1993), who were on the distressed fringes of mainstream society. Counterculture magazines like  Rolling Stone  also hired women photographers such as Annie Leibovitz (b. 1949), to make selfaware, theatrical celebrity portraits that have helped to define celebrity in a star-struck era.

the opportunity to edit their own images. This arrangement enabled photographers to have more control over the presentation and perception of an event, putting their work before the public for longer periods of time than a disposable magazine, thereby increasing their work’s potential influence. As the distinction between what the press considered news and what the museums thought was art blurred, artist-trained photographers, such as Mary Ellen Mark (1940–2015), broke the strict confines of journalistic practice to seek a more in-depth and personal interpretation of a subject. Mark’s approach, like Avedon’s and Newton’s, raised the issue of how to delineate between photographic documents and photographic art.77 Mark not only worked for magazines

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Sebastião Ribeiro Salgado  (b. 1944) first made photographs to supplement his written reports while working as an economic adviser in Africa during 1970. His images, like an endless morality play whose heroic characters’ suffering knows no end, portray his subjects in the midst of exceedingly dirty manual work; he presents them simultaneously as themselves and as archetypes of themselves. Salgado’s personalized approach, like Avedon’s and Mark’s, challenges assumptions

about the photographic document and art photography. His project  Workers: An Archaeology of the Industrial Age  (1993) formally interprets the end of large-scale manual labor in mining and other industries due to mechanization. To make his point that  the production of goods is global, Salgado has photographed workers using their bodies as machines in Bangladesh, Brazil, Cuba, India, Poland, the Ukraine, and Venezuela. Salgado sees no hierarchy in manual labor, as physical demands

© SEBASTIÃO SALGADO. Gold Mine of Serra Pelada [Naked Mountain], Pará, Brazil, 1986. 14 × 19¾ inches. Gelatin silver print. Salgado concentrates on the adverse effects of globalization and economic liberalization. This condition is one of liabilities for those at the bottom of the global economy. Here, Salgado hones in on the taut, muscular legs of a Brazilian miner, who is scarcely covered by his sweat-drenched shorts. The miner’s legs seem simultaneously sturdy yet frail as Salgado shows them straining against the upward climb from the mine pit. Salgado’s latest work, Amazônia, featuring work made from 1998‒2019, covers the Amazon rainforest, the rivers, the mountains, and the indigenous people, chronicling the beauty and power of nature while conveying the destruction of the Amazon biome. Salgado sums up his approach: “I try with my pictures to raise a question, to provoke a debate, so that we can discuss problems together and come up with solutions.”78 COURTESY  Contact Press Images.

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equalize workers and give them common ground. Echoing the theme of  The Family of Man  exhibit, Salgado states:

This tactic labels such images as being detrimental to constructive social engagement.83 It does not recognize that such images might awaken one’s compassion, or that such an acknowledgment could be a first step toward social justice. Advocates of this photography argue it is necessary to recognize that picturemaking involves applying aesthetic principles to a subject, but more importantly, it is judicious to realize the ability of exceptional photographers to transform their subjects and transmit a subject’s sensibility to others. One can recognize that there are limits to what photography can represent and that any emotional attachment to an image is unstable and subject to manipulation, yet still maintain that it is necessary to feel and acknowledge the suffering of others before we can act to alleviate it. Detractors of Sontag recognize that humans seem overwhelmed and powerless when confronted with the suffering of individuals other than ourselves, but thoughtful photographers can help us overcome this condition by becoming aware of the anguish of others in their pictures. Such images, as in Nachtwey’s  Inferno  (1999), can make one conscious of the complexity of the process of representation in an active and inquiring way. Thus, stifling such images curtails intellectual, emotional, and/or social engagement. As Nachtwey says, “I have been a witness, and these pictures are my testimony. The events I have recorded should not be forgotten and must not be repeated.”84 Recently Nachtwey has been covering Russian President Vladimir Putin’s invasion of Ukraine, texting:

The form of these pictures must represent the problem, the reality, the basis of what is happening. What I really want to do with these pictures is to produce a kind of homage to the working class and the old ways of producing that are disappearing… I want to portray them as a group… When I put them all together I want to have a family of workers.79

Western industries and publishers, who have reaped the benefits of these people’s labor while ignoring the effects of the accompanying cultural genocide and ecological devastation, were reluctant to publish Salgado’s images. Fred Ritchin, who was Salgado’s collaborator, curator, and editor, protested that during the 1990s magazine editors found his pictures “too disturbing” to publish and the curators of topmost museums were not interested in showing his work. Ritchin describes this as an example of “an unfortunate tendency to elevate the messenger while denying the message.” 80  At a time when computer imaging has jeopardized the trustworthiness of documentary practice, due to what Ritchin calls the “decline of the aura of believability,” 81  Salgado’s approach, in which the body of the Other becomes a collective manifestation of the human spirit, endeavors to resuscitate the social-documentary tradition. Highly influenced by images from the American Civil Rights movement and the Vietnam War, James Nachtwey’s (b. 1948) close-up, wide-angle style of working places him directly into hellacious conflicts from the slaughter of Tutsis by the Hutus in Rwanda to the famine and genocide in Darfur. Nachtwey’s images, like Salgado’s, have been reproached by critics, such as Susan Sontag, who contend that journalistic photographs should not make their subjects artistically pleasing as this contaminates the so-called “real” with visual pleasure, thus beautifying grief and pain to achieve viewer satisfaction.82 

The barbarity and the senselessness of the Russian onslaught are hard to believe even as I witness them with my own eyes. Bombing and shelling civilian residences, firing tank rounds point-blank into homes and hospitals, murdering noncombatants in militarily occupied areas are all tactics being employed by the Russians in a war that was inflicted on a nonthreatening, neighboring sovereign state… ‘Ordinary’ people are displaying

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© JAMES NACHTWEY. Survivor of Hutu Death Camp, Rwanda, 1994. Variable dimensions. Gelatin silver print.

intimidated by photographs they view privately in books, magazines, television, or on the Internet, it promotes an immediate response in which individuals can question what these photographs show them. Shocking photographs, such as  Richard Drew’s (b. 1946)  Falling Man  (2001), which was largely suppressed,87  can provide an entry into deeper feeling and thinking by allowing viewers to identify with the suffering of the person being pictured and substitute our image for their image. Commentators acknowledge that photography often keeps company with death, and that images are not always used as a force for good. Terrorists recognize this power too and purposely create and distribute abominable images, such as the brutal and sadistic beheading of The Wall Street Journal reporter

extraordinary courage and determination, if not downright stubbornness, in the face of tremendous destruction and loss of life.85

The images generated by the terrorist attacks in the United States on September 11, 2001, create an intriguing case study. The exhibition and later book  Here Is New York: A Democracy of Photographs (2002), a project that anonymously presented photographs about 9/11 by anyone who submitted them,86  provided a turning point that caused many critics to revisit their previous stance about the power of photographs to represent deprivation, humiliation, and suffering in a constructive manner. Perhaps they realized that pictures are more accessible and visceral than words. Since people are not

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Daniel Pearl in 2002, or the Islamic State’s (a.k.a ISIS or ISIL) gruesome burning a hostage Jordanian pilot alive in 2015. They do this for the purpose of intimidation, hoping to make people afraid to act; however, most images generate more complex responses to their subjects. For instance, the defining image of the Iraq invasion in 2003 has shifted at least twice over time from the official

United States media moment of the toppling of a statue of Saddam Hussein, to the infamous amateur snapshots made in Abu Ghraib Prison by U.S. military personnel,88  to videos of roadside bombings posted by insurgents on the Internet. The result of such pictures has been a mixture of protective indifference, an inculcation of compassion, and a call to action. This may be because an image’s authority

© RICHARD DREW. Falling Man, 2001. Variable dimensions. Digital file. A man falls from the north tower of New York’s World Trade Center on Sept. 11, 2001, after terrorists crashed two hijacked airliners into the WTC twin towers. In the immediate aftermath of the September 11 attacks, this photograph provoked feelings of anger. It ran only once in many American newspapers after they received irate letters from readers who felt the image was disrespectful, manipulative, and voyeuristic. This led to the media’s self-censorship of the photograph, preferring to print photographs of acts of sacrifice and valor. Drew had this to say: “This is how it affected people’s lives at that time, and I think that is why it’s an important picture. I didn’t capture this person’s death. I captured part of his life. This is what he decided to do, and I think I preserved that.”89 COURTESY  Associated Press Images.

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is  determined as much by individual imagination and memory as it is by its indexical relationship to the real. Engaging such tough images acknowledges the intricacy of life through their capacity to sensitize and stimulate people’s latent exploratory senses that generate empathy. Hard-hitting photographs can assert ideas and perceptions that we recognize as our own, but that we could not have given concrete form to without first having seen those images. Riveting images can bear witness in time, which may raise our consciousness, and inspire action to bring about social change. Likewise, murderous images posted online to recruit and frighten people will be turned on the perpetrators and be used to bring them to justice. Now, digital imaging allows soldiers themselves to document and tell their uncensored stories of war. The grainy, amateur snapshots made of prisoners being abused by the guards in Abu Ghraib prison in Iraq, distributed by email and eventually on the Internet, were deemed so powerfully disturbing and shameful that the U.S. government tried to suppress them. Changes in who is making and circulating pictures are evolving with the widespread use of social media and alternative news and open reference websites. The character of imagemaking and its distribution is challenging old journalistic approaches and creating new and diverse ways of seeing, understanding, and knowing our world. These images also demonstrate that the veracity of digital images can be authenticated within the structure of reliable journalistic processes.90

© SERGEANT IVAN FREDERICK. Prisoner Being Tortured (a.k.a. The Hooded Man), Abu Ghraib Prison 2003. Dimensions variable. Digital file. The Abu Ghraib prison (20 miles/32 kilometers west of Baghdad) was a place where Saddam Hussein’s government tortured and executed dissidents. It achieved additional infamy after smartphone camera photographs portraying abuse of Iraqi detainees by U.S. military guards circulated on the Internet. Here, a hooded prisoner had wires attached to his hands and genitalia and was reportedly told that he would be electrocuted if he fell off the box he was standing on. When this image, which was made by a member of the American military, became public, U.S. officials

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stated that the wires were not actually electrified. This was later denied by the person claiming to be in the photograph, who stated in an interview that the wires were electrified and had been used to give shocks.

Rising production costs, shrinking readership, and a shifting of resources to electronic media has made the future relationship between photography and the halftone murky at best. People now read nonphysical versions of traditional publications made up of bytes instead of ink dots, from The New York

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Times  to  The Wall Street Journal, on the Internet. Meantime, companies like Bill Gates’s Corbis (later renamed Branded Entertainment Network) began recasting how businesses and people think about cultural institutions and the resources they contain. By acquiring the Bettmann Archive91 in 1995, and by making deals to digitize worldwide museum collections, companies like Corbis Images streamlined the process of marketing electronic reproductions to communications professionals, making the collections more accessible, while turning a profit. Yet the popularity of the Internet, where Getty Images (www.gettyimages.com) pioneered licensing images online, has eroded that demand. In 2016 Corbis, that owned a collection of over 100 million photos and 800,000 videos, sold these materials to Visual China Group. In turn, Getty Images and the Visual China group partnered to distribute  the Corbis Collection of Images, currently making over 475 million assets to create a massive online photo archive that also includes iStock and Unsplash, which provides free images. However, Getty Images has been criticized for claiming copyright, watermarking, and selling images that are in the public domain, including images related to The Holocaust and images created by NASA. Getty has also attempted to collect fees from photographers for use of their own work that they had previously put in the public domain.92 In terms of serious academic research, digitizing collections removes the power of the place and emphasizes the transaction between the viewer and the object in a new way. The Getty Museum Open Content Program (ww.getty.edu/projects/opencontent-program) recognizes this shift and allows people to download images from the Getty Museum “because we recognized the need to share images of works of art for free and without restriction, so that all those who create or appreciate art—scholars, artists, art lovers, and entrepreneurs—will have greater access to high-quality digital images for their studies and projects.”93  It is not connected

in any way with Getty Images. The Library of Congress also has large downloadable collections (www.loc.gov/collections). Other institutions, such as the New York Public Library (https:// digitalcollections.nypl.org) and The Metropolitan Museum of Art (www.metmuseum.org/collection/ the-collection-online) are also making certain holdings without copyright restrictions available for public downloading. The demand to access still and moving pictures on the computer screens, mobile devices, and other portable electronics has fueled a matching pressure to produce more image content, which is often met by amateurs who freely share images and videos on ever-changing hosting services such as Instagram and TikTok, which became most popular website of 2021, even surpassing Google. Since then Google has regained its leadership position among the most visited websites. As news-gathering organizations encourage viewers to instantly send images of breaking stories via their smartphone cameras, anyone can be a reporter without the prerequisite technical or ethical education. As mentioned earlier, this “citizen journalist” phenomenon is quite different from reading a professionally produced newspaper, where readers have some assurance of journalistic standards and can recognize certain biases of reporters and editorial committees. A more recent example is the George Floyd case (2020). Floyd was arrested on suspicion of using a counterfeit $20 bill and was killed by a Minneapolis police officer who knelt on his neck while he cried out: “I can’t breathe.” This tragedy was recorded by a bystander and went viral on social media, sparking nationwide protests and a reckoning about race and policing. On the downside, the ability of the World Wide Web to deliver perfect digital copies of false data, images, and propaganda, known as  fauxtography  (a.k.a. Fake News),94  whether by grifters, politicians, paramilitary groups, part-time stringers/ reporters with personal agendas or conspiracy trash

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talkers, makes it vital for the audience to be capable of critically examining the information it is receiving so it does not fall prey to the unquestioning, “we read/see/hear it, so it must be true” syndrome. The latest example of this type of fraud are deep fakes in which an individual in an existing image or video is replaced with someone else’s likeness. Among other abuses, deep fakes have gained attention for their use in making child, celebrity, and revenge pornography, and financial fraud. As commissions and financial support for new professional journalistic work vanish, more analysts have been questioning the notion of photographic objectivity. This, combined with the digital transformation, produced an ethical and existential identity crisis that has forced journalistic photographers to acknowledge their own subjectivity in reporting the news and helping to define history.96 The outward illustrative approach has declined in favor of a more inward, exploratory style of photojournalism. Photographers may take a more open and active stance to discovering things they did not already know and convey that from an editorial point of view. But, most importantly, in the first decades of the twenty-first century the majority of people know their world primarily through reproductive media.97 First, we see the world through a computer, smartphone or television screen, and later, the world argues over what we have seen on the screen (see Chapter 19). © DARNELLA FRAZIER. Murder of George Floyd, Minneapolis, MN, 2020. Dimensions vary. Digital file (Internet video screen capture). Darnella Frazier was seventeen when she filmed George Floyd’s death under the knee of Minneapolis police officer Derek Chauvin with her smartphone camera, and testified at Chauvin’s trial, where he was convicted. Her video contradicted the initial police account of Floyd’s death. The board said Frazier received the citation for “courageously reporting the murder of George Floyd, a video that spurred protests against police brutality around the world, highlighting the crucial role of citizens in journalists’ quest for truth and justice.” Frazier said: “Even though this was a traumatic life-changing experience for me, I’m proud of myself. If it weren’t for my video, the world wouldn’t have known the truth. I own that. My video didn’t save George Floyd, but it put his murderer away and off the streets.”95

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Joel Snyder has explored, and critiqued, the idea that photographs are created automatically in his essay, “What Happens by Itself in Photography?” in Ted Cohen, Paul Guyer, and Hilary Putnam, eds., Pursuits of Reason: Essays in Honor of Stanley Cavell (Lubbock, TX: Texas Tech University Press, 1993), 361–73. For a history about making multiple copies of a single image, see: Richard Benson,  The Printed Picture  (New York: The Museum of Modern Art, 2008). Walter Benjamin, “The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction,” in Walter Benjamin, Illuminations, ed. Hannah Arendt, trans. Harry Zohn (New York: Harcourt, Brace, and World, 1968), 219–53. Although published in 1936, this essay did not widely enter into English academic discussions of photography until the late 1980s and early 1990s. French theorist André Malraux (1901–1976), who corresponded with Benjamin, both agreed and disagreed. See editorial introduction to, and excerpts from, Malraux’s  Museum Without Walls  (1947) in Andrew E. Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory: An Historical Anthology  (Boston, MA and Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell, 2014), 164–68. Contrasting Malraux with Benjamin, Hal Foster has argued that Malraux believed that photographic reproduction would not destroy tradition as much as it would reconcile all of art history “into one meta-tradition of global styles” (164). Pesala Bandara, “These Are the Most Famous Photos of All Time According to a New Study,” July 29, 2022, https://petapixel.com/2022/07/29/ these-are-the-most-famous-photos-of-all-time-according-to-a-new-study/ George Grosz, “Randzeichnungen zum Thema,” Blätter der Piscatorbühne  (Berlin, 1928); trans. in Peter Selz, “John Heartfield’s Photomontages,”  The Massachusetts Review, vol. 4, no. 2 (Winter 1963), unp. Civilian journalists and photographers were banned from the Western Front, the primary conflict area, and official photographers were almost nonexistent. For instance, the British government accredited only two between 1916 and 1918: Ernest Brooks and John Warwick Brooke. As a result, there are few photographs of the combined military casualties of more than 37 million, representing about 57% of all mobilized forces. For more on Heartfield see Andrés Mario Zervigón, John Heartfield and the Agitated Image: Photography, Persuasion,

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and the Rise of Avant-Garde Photomontage (Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 2012). From “A Prospectus for a New Magazine,” 1934, New York,Time Inc.Archives. Henry Luce in Philip B. Kunhardt, Jr., ed., Life: The First Fifty Years, 1936–1986 (Boston, MA: Little Brown and Co., 1986), 5. See: Ben Cosgrove, “LIFE’s First Cover Story: Building the Fort Peck Dam, 1936,” www.life.com/history/ lifes-first-ever-cover-story-building-the-fort-peckdam-1936/ Time Inc. Audit Bureau for circulation figures, New York. “We Look Back on a Great Era,” Popular Photography, vol. 30 (May 1952), 39. Jane Livingston,  Odyssey: The Art of Photography at National Geographic  (Charlottesville, VA: Thomasson-Grant, 1988), 27. Catherine A. Lutz and Jane L. Collins, Reading National Geographic  (Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 1993), 66. Ibid. More at: Francine Patterson, “Conversations With a Gorilla,” June 21, 2018, www.nationalgeographic.com/ magazine/article/conversations-with-koko-the-gorilla See Patricia Johnson,  Real Fantasies: Edward Steichen’s Advertising Photography  (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1997). Edward Steichen,  A Life in Photography  (Garden City, NY: Doubleday and Co., 1981), unp., located in Chapter 9, “Introducing Naturalism into Advertising.” Harold Haliday Costain, “Photography,”  Modern Publicity 1935–36  (London, 1936), 20; cited in Robert Sobieszek,  The Art of Persuasion  (New York: Harry Abrams, 1988), 71. “Like so many of the toffs he was desperate to emulate, Beaton harboured a nasty streak of antisemitism. This manifested itself in the insertion of some tiny-butstill-legible phrases (including the word ‘kike’) into American Vogue at the side of an illustration about New York society. The issue was recalled and reprinted at vast expense, and Beaton was fired.” Quoted in Simon Doonan, “Cecil Beaton Stateside,” Telegraphy, November 6, 2011, http://fashion.telegraph.co.uk/news-features/ TMG8864644/Cecil-Beaton-Stateside.html For details about the making of this image see: Gretchen Gasterland-Gustafsson, “Horst P. Horst, Maibocher

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Corset, Paris,” in Smarthistory, July 23, 2021, https:// smarthistory.org/horst-corset/ Louise Dahl-Wolfe, A Photographer’s Scrapbook (New York: St. Martin’s/Marek, 1984), 2. Alexander Liberman, introduction to Irving Penn, Passage: A Work Record (New York: Callaway/Knopf, 1991), 5. Ibid., 6. nathan Tichenor, “Irving Penn,”  Graphis,  vol. 6, no. 33 (1950), 396. Milton Brown, “Badly Out of Focus,”  Photo Notes ( January 1948), 5–6. Vicki Goldberg, “Irving Penn Is Difficult. Can’t You Tell?” The NewYork Times, November 24, 1991, Section 2, 40. Irving Penn, World’s in a Small Room (New York: Grossman Publishers, 1974), p. 9. Richard Avedon, In the American West (New York: Abrams, 1985), Forward, unp. Jamie James, “Transcending,”  ARTnews, vol. 93, no. 3 (March 1994), 105. For a critique of this project see Richard Bolton, “In the American East: Richard Avedon Incorporated” in Richard Bolton, ed., The Contest of Meaning: Critical Histories of Photography (Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press, 1989), 261–82. Natasha Geiling, The Day Winston Churchill Lost His Cigar, Smithsonian Magazine, November 19, 2013, www.smithsonianmag.com/smithsonian-institution/ the-day-winston-churchill-lost-his-cigar-180947770/ Big Dog Media Productions, “Who Do You Think You Are… David Bailey?,” https:// malcolmbi rke tt .wordpress . com/2012/12/29/ who-do-you-think-you-are-david-bailey/ Balasz Takac, Widewalls, February 13, 2019, www.widewalls.ch/magazine/david-bailey-photography-gagosian “Clinton Decries ‘Heroin Chic’ Fashion Look,” May 21, 1997, www.cnn.com/ALLPOLITICS/1997/05/21/ clinton.mayors/ Laurie Hurwitz, Introspective, “Sarah Moon’s DreamLike Portraits Transcend Time and Trends,” April 24, 2020, www.1stdibs.com/introspective-magazine/ sarah-moon/ Christopher Bonanos, “How Arthur Felig Became the Legendary Street Photographer Weegee,” August 23, 2019. https://lithub.com/how-arthur-felig-became-the-legendary-street-photographer-weegee/ Allegedly Weegee’s response to a query about his photographic methods of speed and efficiency that emphasizes

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the importance of being present to photograph with flash what was happening. Its origins can be traced back to Kodak’s “Sunny f/16” rule for estimating exposures without a light meter. A pseudonym, the Mayo Brothers were a group of Galician photographers formed by Paco (1911–1949), Candido (1922–1985) and Julio Fernandez Souza (b. 1917), which together with Faustino (1913–1996) and Pablo del Castillo Cubillo (b. 1922), made up a photographic agency founded in Spain at the beginning of the Spanish Civil war and later continued their photographic activity in Mexico. Robert Capa, “Death in Spain,” 1936. Caption from Life, vol. 3, no. 2 ( July 12, 1937), 19. This image is better known as Death of a Loyalist Soldier. An ongoing controversy surrounding whether or not “The Falling Soldier” was a constructed image surfaced when thousands of Capa’s Spanish Civil War images were discovered. See: Randy Kennedy, “The Capa Cache,” The New York Times, Sunday, January 27, 2008, AR 1 and 31. This discovery also contains the negatives of Gerda Taro (1910–1937), a pioneering female photojournalist whose brief career consisted mainly of dramatic photographs from the front lines of the Spanish Civil War. Taro, whose partnership with Capa was both professional and personal, was struck by a tank and killed, making her the first female photographer to be killed while covering a war. See: Gerda Taro (London and New York: Steidl/ICP, 2007). Additional research claims that Capa’s “The Falling Soldier” was set up. See www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/art/news/ shot-down--capas-classic-image-of-war-1754405.html. For a series of highly detailed articles see A. D. Coleman’s “The Robert Capa on D-Day Project” at www.nearbycafe.com/artandphoto/photocritic/major-stories/ major-series-2014/robert-capa-on-d-day. Ranjit Dhaliwal, “Robert Capa: ‘The best picture I ever took’ ‒ a picture from the past,” The Guardian, Oct 29, 2013, www.theguardian.com/ a r t a n d d e s i g n / au d i o sl i d e sh ow / 2 0 1 3 / o c t / 2 9 / robert-capa-spanish-civil-war Alastair Jamieson, “Robert Capa’s greatest war photo ‘was a lucky shot,’ ” BBC News, October 29, 2013, www. bbc.com/news/av/entertainment-arts-24723949. Quoted in George P. Hunt (Managing Editor,  Life), “Editors’ Note,” vol. 59, no. 18 (October 29, 1965). Quoted in Cornell Capa, ed.,  The Concerned Photographer (New York: Grossman, 1968), unp.

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47 Robert Capa,  Images of War  (New York: Grossman

57 See Glenn G. Willumson,  W. Eugene Smith and the

Publishers, 1964), 110. Since this was published this story has also been questioned. See A. D. Coleman’s blog: Rob McElroy “The Slipping Cassette: Dispelling the Robert Capa Sliding-Emulsion Myth,” May 17 & 20 , 2015, www.nearbycafe.com/artandphoto/ photocritic/2015/05/17/guest-post-16-rob-mcelroy-on-robert-capa-2-a/ and www.nearbycafe.com/ artandphoto/photocritic/2015/05/20/guest-post-16rob-mcelroy-on-robert-capa-2-b/ “Tereska Draws Her Home,”  Life, vol. 25, no. 26 (December 27, 1948), 16. More details see: Carole Nagger, “Unraveling a 70-Year-Old Photographic Mystery,” April 12, 2017, https://time.com/4735368/ tereska-david-chim-seymour/ Magnum Photos was founded in Paris in 1946 by Henri Cartier-Bresson, Robert Capa, David (Chim) Seymour, George Rodger, and Bill Vandivert. The photographers were motivated by exasperation with magazines like  Life  that determined a photographer’s assignment, controlled the use of the images, and retained ownership of the negatives. At Magnum, the photographers selected the editors and staff and set policy on how their work would be represented and sold. Profits are shared in proportion to the sales of the work. Nowadays, younger photographers can become Magnum associates and have their work represented on a commission basis. A New York office was established in 1947. Cartier-Bresson, in  The Concerned Photographer, unp., 265 See Bernard Wasserstein,  Barbarism and Civilization: A History in Our Time  (New York: Oxford University Press, 2007). Ibid., 264. Angelica Villa, “Photographer Lee Miller’s Subversive Career Took Her from Vogue to War-Torn Germany,” Art in America, March 19, 2021, www.artnews.com/feature/ lee-miller-photography-vogue-man-ray-1234587240/ For details see: Robert Hirsch, “Photography and the Holocaust: Then & Now, Jewish & Partisan Photographic Perspectives, Part 2,” VASA Journal on Images and Culture, 2022, https://vjic.org/vjic2/?page_id=6719 See Daniel Jonah Goldhagen, Hitler’s Willing Executioners: Ordinary Germans and the Holocaust  (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1996). Paul Hill and Thomas Cooper, “W. Eugene Smith,” in Dialogue with Photography (New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1979), 280.

Photographic Essay  (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992). W. Eugene Smith and Aileen M. Smith, Minamata (New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1975), 8. In addition to Wojnarowicz noted above, Smith’s ideas about the ethics of photography resonate with those of Sharon Sliwinski, “A Painful Labour: Responsibility and Photography” (2004), in Hershberger, ed.,  Photographic Theory, 370–76. Ibid., 266. Smith’s ideas here resemble those of later art photographer David Wojnarowicz. See Wojnarowicz, “Do Not Doubt the Dangerousness of the 12-Inch-Tall Politician” (1991), in Hershberger, ed.,  Photographic Theory, 356–58. Henri Cartier-Bresson, in  The Concerned Photographer, unp., 265. Cornell Capa, Introduction,  The Concerned Photographer, unp. Ibid. Ibid. On the importance of photography as a “witness,” see also Gretchen Garner, Disappearing Witness: Change in 20th Century American Photography (Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2003 Photographs of the aftermath of the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, especially of people, rarely have been published in the West. For an overview, see Ryuichi Kaneko et al., The Half-Life of Awareness: Photographs of Hiroshima and Nagasaki  (Tokyo: Tokyo Metropolitan Museum of Photography, 1995). For a critique of the idea of photography as a “universal language,” see Allan Sekula, “The Traffic in Photographs” (1981), in Hershberger, ed.,  Photographic Theory, 296–301. http://photolondon.org/don-mccullin-in-conversationwith-isaac-julien/ Michael Kamber, “Don McCullin at War,”  The New York Times, Nov. 6, 2015, http://lens.blogs.nytimes. com/2015/11/06/don-mccullin-at-war/?emc=edit_ tnt_20151107&nlid=15316572&tntemail0=y Marianne Fulton,  Eyes of Time: Photojournalism in America (Boston, MA: Little Brown, 1988), 208. After making the picture, the 22-year-old Ut drove the girl to a hospital, saving her life. At this writing, the woman in the picture is married, has a child, and lives in Toronto, Canada. Eddie Adams, “The Pictures That Burn in My Memory,” Parade Magazine, May 15, 1983, 9.

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in Vicki Goldberg, The Power of Photography, 229. David C. Unger, “Taking Haiti,” with photographs by Alex Webb, The New York Times Magazine (October 23, 1994/Section 6), 53–54. Recently, cases involving people of color, such as Michael Brown, Eric Garner, Tamir Rice, and Laquan McDonald among others, did not result in indictments, leading activists to call for federal action and reform including the police use of body cameras. Unger, “Taking Haiti,” 55. These sentiments are echoed by Wojnarowicz, noted earlier, and by Fred Ritchin, “Photojournalism in the Age of Computers” (1990), and Liam Kennedy, “Remembering September 11: Photography as Cultural Diplomacy” (2003), in Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 329–33 and 415–20 respectively. Val Williams, Martin Parr, (London: Phaidon Press, 2002), 160. Mark Edward Harris, “The C & D Interview: Mary Ellen Mark,”  Camera and Darkroom  (October 1993), 22–31. This is a longstanding issue in photographic theory. Clement Greenberg famously summarized the debate this way: “Photography is the most transparent of the art mediums devised or discovered by man. It is probably for this reason that it proves so difficult to make the photograph transcend its almost inevitable function as document and act as work of art as well. But we do have evidence that the two functions are compatible.” See Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 136–38, 378–81, and esp. pp. 137 and 379. Bright, “Exhibition Amazônia,” The Independent Photographer, December 2, 2021, https://independent-photo.com/news/amazonia/ John Bloom, “An Interview with Sebastião Salgado,” October 5, 1990, San Francisco in John Bloom, Photography at Bay: Interviews, Essays, and Reviews (Albuquerque, NM: University of New Mexico Press, 1993), 151–65. Cited in David Levi Strauss, “Epiphany of the Other,” Artforum (February 1991), 99. See Fred Ritchin, In Our Own Image: The Coming Revolution in Photography/How Computer Technology Is Changing Our View of the World (New York: Aperture, 1990). See Susan Sontag,  Regarding the Pain of Others  (New York: Picador, 2004). For an exploration and critique of Sontag’s approach, see Sharon Sliwinski and Marianne

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Hirsch’s articles in Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 370–76 and 408–11 respectively. Martha Rosler, “In, Around and Afterthoughts (on Documentary Photography),”  3 Works, Halifax NS: Press of the Nova Scotia College of Art & Design, 1981. In reaction to this argument, more photographers began to create and photograph staged scenes. www.jamesnachtwey.com. David Remnick, “The Costs of War,” The New Yorker, May 9, 2022, www.newyorker.com/magazine/portfolio/ 05/09/the-costs-of-war See Giles Peress et al., Here Is New York: A Democracy of Photographs (Zurich: Scalo Publishers, 2002). See www.esquire.com/features/ESQ0903-SEP_ FALLINGMAN. To learn about the details surrounding the making of the Abu Ghraib photographs, see Philip Gourevitch and Errol Morris, “Exposure: The Woman Behind the Camera at Abu Ghraib,”  The New Yorker, March 24, 2008, 44–57. ter Howe, “Richard Drew,” The Digital Journalist, 2001. www.digital journalist.org/issue0110/drew.htm. See André Gunthert. “Digital Imaging Goes to War,” Photographies, 2008, 1:1, 103–12. The Bettmann Archive was founded in 1930 by Otto Bettmann, known as “The Picture Man,” and contains over 16 million images, making it one of the world’s largest and most important photographic archives. Bettmann is considered the father of the image resource business. Mike Masnick, “Getty Images Sued Yet Again for Trying To License Public Domain Images,” Techdirt, April 1, 2019, www.techdirt.com/2019/04/01/ getty-images-sued-yet-again-trying-to-license-publicdomain-images/ www.getty.edu/about/opencontent.html. The future of André Malraux’s  Museum Without Walls  continues to evolve in the digital age. See excerpts from Malraux’s  Museum Without Walls  (1947) in Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 164–68. Charles Foster Johnson coined the term fauxtography on his weblog, Little Green Footballs, to describe the publishing of manipulated photographs by news services such as Reuters and the Associated Press during the 2006 Israel‒Lebanon conflict. Giulia McDonnell Nieto del Rio, “Darnella Frazier, the teenager who recorded George Floyd’s murder, speaks out,” The New York Times, May 25, 2021, www.nytimes. com/2021/05/25/us/darnella-frazier.html

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96 addition to Ritchin’s writings noted above, see articles

by William J. Mitchell and Ellen Handy that reinforce and debate this point in Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 382–83 and 344–49. 97 2022, the number of smartphone users in the world today is 6.648 billion, which translates to 83.37% of the world’s population owning a smartphone. In total, the number of people that own a smart and feature phone is 7.26 billion, making up 91.16% of the world’s population. www.bankmycell.com/blog/how-many-phones-are-in-the-world

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CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The Atomic Age

NEW LIGHT/ FRESH METHODS

threat of atomic annihilation changed the world as the symbolic Doomsday Clock2  ticked off the minutes left before the midnight apocalypse, and post-World War II artists started to reflect its terrifying and destabilizing consequences. A small group of American photographers shifted their modern, naturalistic, optimistic outlook to a more abstract, surreal, and pessimistic stance. Until World War II the modernist concept of the naturalistic/documentary photograph, the previsualized, fixed, full-frame aesthetic of the individual photographer, reigned supreme. Magazines such as Popular Photography and U.S. Camera reinforced it and gave national exposure to work produced by the FSA and the Photo League. The modernist agenda was advanced by Beaumont Newhall (1908–1993), the curator of the freshly established Department of Photography at the Museum of Modern Art (1940), the first such department at a major art museum. Newhall’s  The History of Photography: 1839 to the Present Day, originally published as a catalog accompanying the MoMA exhibition of the same name in 1937, defined the modernist approach and introduced its artists to the public.3 Over the years, the catalog was revised and enlarged and went through several editions, serving as an influential early text of the medium. Another watershed event was the establishment of the George Eastman House Museum

The 1945 decision by President Harry S. Truman (1884–1972) to drop atomic bombs on the Japanese cities of Hiroshima and Nagasaki ended World War II and began the Atomic Age. Despite the forming of the United Nations Charter (1945), world peace proved elusive. Initial postwar exhilaration rapidly gave way to apprehension and tension as the Soviet Union exploded its first atomic weapon in 1949. Americans realized that “the bomb” could now be used against them. As test blasts escalated, the arms race of the Cold War commenced. The physical and psychological fallout from these scientific events altered the American transcendental belief in nature. The incredible economic benefits scientists promised from the “Atoms for Peace” program, such as plutonium nuclear reactors that would generate not bomb material but electric power so inexpensive that meters would be unnecessary, never materialized. Instead, technology seemed on the verge of overwhelming nature, bringing with it a loss of firm moral ground and the possibility of outright extermination. Even Robert Oppenheimer, the head of the Manhattan Project that developed America’s first atomic weapon at the Los Alamos laboratory, had so many doubts about what they had unleashed upon the world that he resigned his position.1 The

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of Photography (renamed the George Eastman Museum in 2015), which opened in 1949, and the appointment of Newhall as its first curator and, later, its director  (1958–1971). By taking actively engaged positions, often ably assisted by his wife, Nancy Parker Newhall (1908–1974),4  Newhall championed a select group of photographers, many of whom were personal friends. Through numerous exhibitions, publications, and lectures, Newhall made photographic history instead of following and reporting on well-established trends. Most importantly, he was also a photographer, giving him the perspective of both a maker and a scholar. Late in life Newhall published In Plain Sight: The Photographs of Beaumont Newhall (1983), with a foreword by Ansel Adams. Before the atomic bomb, Ansel Adams created images, such as  Mt. Williamson from Manzanar, California  (1944), which embodied Newhall’s modern, naturalistic vision. Adams’s compositions visualized the essence of nineteenth-century American transcendentalism: ethereal light illuminating the solid enduring earth. Here the sharp focus of reason co-existed with the timeless beauty of nature. Not far from Mount Williamson, Adams also photographed the human landscape at Manzanar War Relocation Center, a California internment camp where more than 10,000 West Coast Japanese Americans were imprisoned by the U.S. government during World War II. Adams published the resulting images, alongside some of his most famous landscapes, as  Born Free and Equal (1944), a text that powerfully debunks any notion that Adams regarded his landscapes as apolitical or purely formal statements. Although removed from the battlefields, Adams produced shrewd images that encouraged people to scrutinize the mountains and heavens for a higher moral authority to replace the one that seemed to be crumbling in wartime.5 After the detonation of the first test bomb at Trinity Site in New Mexico on July 16, 1945, the

earth and the heavens no longer seemed to possess the same degree of lasting spiritual strength that Adams’s photographs personified. Even the light seemed different now. I. I. Rabi, a Nobel laureate physicist who observed the explosion, reported it was the brightest light I have ever seen or that I think anyone has ever seen. It blasted; it pounced; it bored its way right through you. It was a vision which was seen with more than the eye. It was seen to last forever. You would wish it would stop; altogether it lasted about two seconds.6

This new world order could no longer be contained by the old transcendental ways that considered the camera as the eye of nature.7 This new light demanded fresh methods of representing the visions of the world that went beyond what the human eyes could see. The increase in Nazi war-enforced emigration of artists gave European cultural and intellectual theories wider currency in America and provided photographers with alternative approaches to Newhall’s modernist agenda. The American painters Arshile Gorky (1904–1948) and Adolph Gottlieb (1903–1974) adopted the surrealist ideas of Max Ernst and André Breton into paintings devoid of rational intent or utilitarian representation, forming the basis of  Abstract Expressionism. Representative of an attitude of intense allegiance to psychic self-expression, Abstract Expressionism paralleled post-World War II’s atomic and existential philosophy’s belief in individual action as the key to salvation. Surrealism also gave expressionist photographers who did not fit the modernist mode the means to rebel against the empirical, realistic outlook that dominated American artistic practice. The infusion of new ideas helped break the domination of the assignment-driven photo-reportage of the literal moment, allowing photographers to make more timeless and intangible representations of the allegorical, the psychological, and the

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spiritual, indicating that an “anti-decisive moment” era had begun.8 Commercial magazines did not believe that private symbolic imagery was suitable for a popular, public audience. This left expressive practitioners to face solitary lives of offering images to tiny audiences with little hope of financial compensation. Still, some artists found straight realism too restrictive, and they wanted more mental space for cerebral interpretation and personal enlightenment. The search for alternatives to  social realism, representational images with a social purpose, became urgent. Photographers sought to extend their practice beyond the commercial and functional realms and to explore internal intellectual  and philosophical quests. Their search for a new form of spiritualism in an atomic age shifted from the modernist approach that favored strongly defined, tangible subject matter and the structuring role of light, to compositions that embraced the subjectivity of inner self-expression, the metaphor, and the manipulation of materials and processes. In a world now controlled by invisible atoms, there was a growing interest by photographers in psychoanalytic theory along with unconscious and dream imagery that promoted the uncanny, unexpected, speculative, and imaginary aspects of being that defy logic.

Laughlin was a self-taught New Orleans photographer who worked without any contact with a sphere of like-minded artists. By the late 1930s, he utilized surrealist strategies, such as blurring, double exposure, light manipulation, and coded poses, to disrupt photographic realism. A devotee of the French symbolist poets Charles Baudelaire and Arthur Rimbaud, Laughlin depended on enigma and fantasy to evoke a disturbing dreamlike quality rich in mysterious allegories and melancholic sexual undertones. His romantic images embrace the sultry legends of a pretechnological South that wanted to ignore the coming atomic age, and they incorporate the modernist aesthetics of Weston and Adams while still moving in a different direction. Laughlin was not interested in representing an outer object as a thing-in-itself, but in its psychic content “in terms of inner perceptions and compulsions, in terms of intuition and symbolism (the treating of the object as a-thing-beyond-itself ).”9  His work protested a rational and technical society that denied emotions. Laughlin pursued a spiritual resurrection, uniting body and intellect, instinct and reason, poetry and utility. His series, Poems of the Inner World, wrestles with the psychology of anxiety, confusion, desire, death, fear, guilt, and renewal. Laughlin’s studies of Southern antebellum architecture, published as Ghosts Along the Mississippi (1948), concentrate on what he referred to as their “psycho-physical environment.” Laughlin wrote:

THE SURREALIST METAPHOR

It is a strange fusion of psychological factors with physical factors that most excites me… All buildings, all cities that have been greatly lived, that have been greatly dreamed on, and that extend far through time—have this secret life.10

The use of photographic metaphor—a photograph that intends to transcend its exterior appearance— seemed at odds with the often presumed objective nature of photography, which is secured to and by such appearances. Yet, it was this metaphorical approach, combined with surrealism, which allowed photographers like Clarence John Laughlin  (1905–1985) to suggest connections and to create new analogies about time and place.

With his combination of cultural and physical ingredients, topography, and  Zeitgeist  (spirit of the time), Laughlin shared similar preoccupations with the Southern Gothic literature of William Faulkner, Carson McCullers, Flannery O’Connor,

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© CLARENCE JOHN LAUGHLIN. The Insect-Headed Tombstone, 1953. 10½ × 13½ inches. Gelatin silver print. COURTESY  Jack and Beverly Wilgus Collection.

and Tennessee Williams. All of those writers utilized the elements of the supernatural and the grotesque to tackle the plight of the oppressed by old-fashioned Southern culture. Laughlin’s titles, like We Reached for Our Lost Hearts and The Eye that Never Sleeps, create a verbal-visual link, encouraging a metaphorical/poetic interpretation that foils the authority of a photograph to act as a literal representation of what it depicts. Laughlin’s

theatrically staged scenes stymie realism with montage and multiple exposures, destroying the accepted continuum of time. Laughlin’s belief that “the limitations of photography are nothing more than the limitations of photographers”11  informs a generation of magical Southern photographic thinking in the work of Jerry Uelsmann, Van Deren Coke (1921–2004), Robert W. Fichter, and Ralph Eugene Meatyard.

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© FREDERICK SOMMER. Arizona Landscape, 1943. 7 5⁄8 x 9 9⁄16 inches. Gelatin silver print. “For years I looked at the Arizona landscape and it seemed almost a hopeless task… There wasn’t anything worth featuring, nothing worth making a to-do about. All those plants were dry and dead and dying. And, if they weren’t, you could take them as a whole, in their totality… What was the difference between the top of the picture and the bottom of it? It was all the same. But there was a difference. The only thing is that it was more subtle … there’s a great deal going on. Maybe this helped me to realize that I was looking at details. These were enormous areas, but still there were no details… There’s nothing happening in the sky and I decided, ‘No skies for me.’ Finally there was no foreground, there was no middle distance, there was nothing. And there was very little distinction between the plants and the rocks. Even the rocks were struggling.”12 COURTESY  Frederick & Frances Sommer Foundation.

Frederick Sommer  (1905–1999) pursued somewhat similar ideas in relation to psychic and physical interactions within photography. Raised in Brazil and trained as a landscape architect, Sommer seriously pursued photography after meeting with Stieglitz in 1935. Charles Sheeler and Max Ernst encouraged his systematic explorations with “the sensitized surface, rather than photography itself ” that included cameraless negatives, clichés-verre,

smoke-on-glass, paint-on-cellophane, cut-paper images, and musical notations as art. Although Sommer cared for the accurate illustration of how things appear to the eye, and he studied shapes in the manner of a Renaissance anatomist, surrealist underpinnings in his works add a phantasmagoric quality to his imagery. Sommer’s early photographs step into a realm of the grotesque and nightmarish to question temporal existence while functioning

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as metaphors for war and foreshadowing the mass destruction that would leave Europe in ruins. Images like  Eight Young Roosters  (1938) demonstrate an awareness of positivistic typology, the scientific recording of specific entities, and Sommer encouraged viewers to ponder the essence of the subject through repetition. Sommer also applied his typological thinking, stressing the relationship between similar subjects, to his landscapes. Living in Prescott, Arizona, Sommer struggled with how to depict the landscape of the American West. Finding the Arizona desert immune to

traditional rendition, Sommer looked at nature to suggest its own order. By eliminating the sky and the foreground, Sommer created images that defy gravity and occupy their own dreamlike space. The harsh landscape floats in its own endless and enigmatic space. The lack of classical associations for measurement and placement in the Arizona desert give his pictures a disorienting sense of being lost in a foreign world where one’s position in time and space remains uncertain. Its topography reflects Sommer’s conclusion that the landscape “exists for itself.” Sommer’s detailed, horizonless views in the 1940s shaped his topological response to the desert landscape and anticipated the more obscure imagery he would make twenty years later using smoke on cellophane. His jam-packed, edge-to-edge images express and foreshadow the same set of concerns as Jackson Pollock’s (1912–1956) skein and drip paintings. Sommer’s observation—“What is the importance of Duchamp, if not to tell us that the things that go on in painting can be done without painting?” 13—reveals his desire to push the envelope of photography.14 The desire for a metaphoric resonance can be seen in the work of Val Telberg (1910–1995), who became interested in surrealism and experimental filmmaking while studying painting at the Art Students League in New York. He learned photography in order to support himself by making “quickie” photos of nightclub patrons. Impressed by the avant-garde films of Maya Deren and Frances Lee, Telberg adapted cinematic techniques—such as the dissolve and jump cut—to still photography, distorting its narrative content. Telberg challenged “previsualization” by using the darkroom as a workshop for his imagination. Working on a light table, Telberg arranged negatives, often hand-altering them, into mental images that were sandwiched between pieces of glass and then printed. As in a dream narrative, the action jump cuts from one element to another. The overlapping negatives can offer the illusion that the viewer is watching a

VAL TELBERG. State of Existence, circa 1948. 13 7⁄8 × 11 inches. Gelatin silver print. “What interests me most is not what one can see, but what goes on unseen in one’s mind,” Telberg said in 1949.15 A few years later, he added: “I try and invent a completely unreal world, new, free and truthful, so that the real world can be seen in perspective and in comparison.”16 © Estate of Val Telberg.

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cinematic projection that flattens space, shifts scale, and compresses time. Telberg’s mental cross-cutting of these reality fragments provides a hallucinatory, time-based stream-of-consciousness, offering a multivisual forum for exploring the normally unseeable relationships among his fantasies, feelings, and memories, often with tragic undertones. Upon his return from active military duty in the Philippines during World War II,  Minor White  (1908–1976) sought visual metaphors in order to access the hidden mythical nature within reality. His first attempt was a sequence,  Amputations (1947), of portraits of soldiers juxtaposed with images of nature and with verse:  

the war led him to study aesthetics with modernist art historian Meyer Schapiro in 1946, and then explore mysticism, Zen Buddhism, Gestalt psychology, and the teachings of Russian philosopher and spiritual teacher George Ivanovitch Gurdjieff (1866–1949). White achieved the same sense of mystical naturalism that abstract painters, such as Mark Tobey, sought, not by inventing subjects to be photographed but by editing and sequencing reality-based images into a framework that liberated them from their original meanings. Once the photographic image was freed from its burden of representation, White believed that viewers could subjectively “read” an image for personal meanings. In a process referred to as mirroring, White postulated that we “invent a subject … out of the stuff and substance of ourselves … [and] turn the photo into a mirror of some part of ourselves.”19  By the 1960s, White became convinced that photographs do not contain their own meanings. Rather, a photograph may contain numerous meanings, and viewers are the source of these meanings. Thus, he argued, “the audience can be as creative as the photographer ….”20 White’s major contribution to photography was his ability to share his ideas with the field. White taught at the California School of Fine Arts (1946–1953) with Ansel Adams, then at the Rochester Institute of Technology (1955–1964), and at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (1965–1975). He conducted workshops throughout the country; and he was the assistant curator of exhibitions and editor of  Image  at the George Eastman House (1953–1956). White’s Zone System Manual  (1953) helped introduce and expand Adams’s concepts. His greatest impact on the fine art of photography began with his cofounding of Aperture magazine in 1952, and acting as its editor from 1952 until 1975.  Aperture, with roots in the San Francisco Renaissance of Eastern philosophy and religion,  manifested its editor’s and its photographers’ concerns for the contemplative, the intuitive,

If battle gives me time It is my will To cut away all dear insanities I get in War Or if I live To amputate the pain I’ve seen endured 17

  For decades, White continued to re-edit and alter this metaphoric sequence of images, reaching back before Nazism, Stalinism, the Holocaust, and the atomic bomb to find an aesthetic order that made sense. During the politically oppressive Cold War era of communist witch hunts and blacklists, many artists and intellectuals turned away from activist social agendas. They searched for an inward path of myth and transcendence from suffering that would lead to personal contentment and wholeness. White returned to Stieglitz’s sequential Equivalents of the 1920s, photographs that function metaphorically by subordinating their literal subject matter, not to explore photography but rather himself and the inner states of the viewers of his works. White would later state: “I photograph not that which is, but that which I AM.”18 During World War II White converted to Catholicism. The unshakable existential angst instilled by

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MINOR WHITE. Wall Encrustations, Moon, May, 1964. 715⁄16 × 10¼ inches. Gelatin silver print. The wall text for a Minor White exhibition at the George Eastman House was written by curator and photographer Walter Chappell (1925‒2000) and stated: “This photographer releases the shutter while looking at things for what else they are, and later reflects on the photographic image for what else it is. Why? Because this is the way to use camera work to mirror inner life. This is the way of what Alfred Stieglitz called Equivalents. Because this is the liberating discipline by which photographs become turning points between man and nature and looking glasses that can be walked into. Only half the story is given in photographs and words. The other half, as 11th century Chinese painters believed, is given by the viewer as he completes the images in his mind. What he remembers later is his own… In payment of promises made to Walt Whitman and acknowledgments of invoices from Donne, Emily Dickinson and Blake; Freud, Ansel Adams, Edward Weston and I Ching.” 21 Reproduced with permission of the Minor White Archive, Princeton University Art Museum. © Trustees of Princeton University.

the mystical, and the universal. For example, White wrote an article in Aperture to champion his reinterpretation of Stieglitz’s photographic equivalents as a form of Zen meditation

akin to the mystic and to ecstasy… One feels, one sees on the ground glass into a world beyond surfaces. The square becomes like the words of a prayer or a poem, like fingers or rockets into two infinities—one into the subconscious and the other into the visual-tactile universe.22

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PHOTO GRAPHIC EDUCATION AS SELFEXPRESSION

the image’s construction and cognitive meaning. Callahan wrote: I am interested in relating the problems that affect me to some set of values that I am trying to discover and establish as being my life. I want to discover and establish them through photography… This reason, whether it be good or bad, is the only reason I can give for these photographs.23

America, avoiding the economic and physical destruction experienced by Europe and Japan, emerged as the world leader of visual culture after World War II. President Truman’s GI Bill provided federal funding to educate some eight million returning veterans. To take advantage of thriving enrollments, college and university art departments offered photography courses stressing personal expression. Despite the death of Moholy-Nagy in 1946, his New Bauhaus, the former School of Design in Chicago, became a center for the “New Vision” (see Chapter 11). Renamed the Institute of Design in 1944, the school encouraged students to think of photography’s foundation in terms of light instead of equipment, to work with unconventional methods, and to cross boundaries by mixing media. Self-expression and experimentation, rather than documentation, became the photographic destination. These concepts informed a generation of teachers who would oversee the explosive growth of photographic education beginning in the late 1960s and running through the early 1980s. Two of the most influential photographers/educators associated with the Institute of Design were Harry Callahan and Aaron Siskind. Harry Callahan  (1912–1999), with Arthur Siegel (1913–1978) and Aaron Siskind, developed the expressive photography program at the Institute of Design (which in 1950 became part of the Illinois Institute of Technology), where he taught from 1946–1961. In 1961, he moved to the Rhode Island School of Design (RISD) to head its photography department and taught there until 1977. Callahan considered photography not in terms of a camera but as a process through which one could see the self. Photography was about learning to control the visual  gestalt  of the picture, the photographer’s mental organization that determines

Using a thematic approach that in retrospect can be arranged under the subject headings of Eleanor (Eleanor Knapp, Callahan’s wife), the City, and Landscape, Callahan worked intuitively to infuse his pictures with feeling and selfhood. Spare, highly abstracted winter scenes, such as  Detroit  (1948), harken back to Moholy-Nagy’s pre-nuclear reductionist impulses in which nature becomes design and form. In one series, Callahan diminishes nature by projecting outdoor scenes onto Eleanor’s bare back. The image suggests that simply reproducing the natural world will not answer existential questions. Rather, one must take responsibility for determining their own development through acts of the will and by examining one’s private emotions and thoughts. The expression of this detached consciousness, the desire to withdraw into the self, became an early nuclear motif: the artist as an island. The confusion, disorientation, and growing isolation of the early nuclear era can be seen in Callahan’s early street images, in which he selected a telephoto lens to fill the frame with the heads of isolated people, separated from their environment, alienated within their own inner reality. Callahan’s experiments with double exposure and collage provide visual signs of the fragmenting self and the lost spiritual values that were rapidly being replaced by a booming consumer economy. As Akira Kurosawa’s post-nuclear film,  Rashomon  (1950), affirmed in its tale of rape and murder told from four different perspectives, a uniform approach to life and history is not possible. Truth is a patchwork

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HARRY CALLAHAN. Eleanor, Chicago, circa 1953. 6¾ × 6½ inches. Gelatin silver print. © The Estate of Harry Callahan, 2016. COURTESY  Pace/MacGill Gallery, New York, NY. Collection Center for Creative Photography, University of Arizona.

meaning of his work, Callahan wrote a short statement about what was important for him and his struggle to keep working:

resulting from a multitude of personal experiences, inquiries, and positions. Callahan embodied an archetypal modernist who saw form as a path to the spirit. His vision of an artist was patterned after Somerset Maugham’s The Moon and Sixpence  (1919), a fictionalized account of painter Paul Gauguin (1848–1903), in which the artist is a solitary hero with a sacred calling, beyond the comprehension of his fellow mortals.24 Callahan, known for being tongue-tied when discussing his work, stated: “Photography seems so simple to me that there doesn’t seem to be much to say.”25 After an almost complete 25-year silence concerning the

It’s the subject matter that counts. I’m interested in revealing the subject in a new way to intensify it. A photo is able to capture a moment that people can’t always see. Wanting to see more makes you grow as a person and growing makes you want to show more of life around you. I photograph continuously, often without a good idea or strong feelings. During this time the photos are nearly all poor but I believe they develop my seeing and help later on in other photos. I do believe strongly

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in photography and hope by following it intuitively that when the photographs are looked at they will touch the spirit in people.26

The other major figure to come from the Institute of Design was Aaron Siskind (1903–1991). After producing documentary projects such as the Harlem Document  and  The Most Crowded Block in the World  during the late 1930s, Siskind dropped the Film and Photo League’s social documentary stance to pursue the abstract and personal. Siskind’s aesthetic switch led him to become friends with the painter Franz Kline and his coterie during the emergence of Abstract Expressionism that sought a subjective emotional expression that emphasized the creative spontaneous act, such as action painting, whose forms are non-objective and do not originate from the visible world. Siskind brought the concepts of Abstract Expressionism to photography by using the straight photographic style (no unusual manipulation of materials). With this approach, he created visual analogies that transcended the literalness of the subjects and promoted an expressive, idiosyncratic interpretation. Through controlling the tension between representation and the independent image, Siskind balanced photography’s descriptive capacity with allusion, converting direct photographic observations into visual metaphors that presented circumstances for which words have no adequate explanations. In 1951, after meeting Callahan at Black Mountain College, Siskind accepted an invitation to teach at the Institute of Design, and in 1971 he rejoined Callahan at RISD. Siskind’s sharp, highly detailed, large-format abstract images of dripped and peeling paint, graffiti, and peeling walls symbolize the disintegration of old-fashioned values in a nuclear era and the search for a self-centered spiritual core that does not compromise reality. His meditative and ordered work is ambiguous and difficult, as he does not rely on the literal, sexual, or spiritual devices of his

AARON SISKIND. New York, No. 6, 1951. Variable dimensions. Gelatin silver print. Aaron Siskind stated: “As the language or vocabulary of photography has been extended, the emphasis of meaning has shifted, shifted from what the world looks like to what we feel about the world and what we want the world to mean.”27 Along with Ansel Adams, Wynn Bullock, Harry Callahan, and Frederick Sommer, Siskind was one of the founding photographers whose archives established the Center for Creative Photography in 1975. © Aaron Siskind Foundation. COURTESY  Bruce Silverstein Gallery, New York, NY.

Photo COURTESY Center for Creative Photography, Tucson, AZ.

contemporaries to delve into the symbolic character of communication. Bypassing the photo-essay’s interchangeability of pictures and words, Siskind’s calligraphic/hieroglyphic images converge at the juncture where pictures and words become one. Through a process of renewal and self-discovery,

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FAMILY OF MAN

similar in concept to Stieglitz’s Equivalents, Siskind not only internalized photography but also liberated his thinking from orthodox pictorial subject matter. Siskind assembled an experience by transforming the outer wrapper of a subject into an inner reality. He accomplished this by pushing the technical boundaries of the camera’s ability to isolate and alter scale, generating unforeseen psychological drama through the photographic gray scale to disclose possible relationships of one object to another. Siskind’s mysterious work, whose hallmark was defamiliarizing familiar subjects, raises the question: How can photo-based imagemaking portray the anxiety, beauty, energy, and horror of the atomic age? The desire to invent fresh forms that expressed the new psychological needs of the atomic era could also be seen in the work of the German group fotoform (1949–1958). Members of fotoform wanted expound upon Bauhaus concepts that the Nazis had extinguished by exploring photographic abstraction and challenging the conviction that photography was objective. They did this by imbuing their subject matter with aesthetic and personal significance through photographic methods including: altering perspective and point of view; close-ups; changing tonal representation; negative printing; solarization; and time exposures. Their effect on mainstream German photography at the time was said to have been like “an atomic bomb in the compost heap.”28 One of the group’s members, Otto Steinert (1915–1978), promoted  Subjektive Fotografie (subjective photography), a new international movement designed to encompass “all domains of personal photography” that advanced “conscious subjectivism.” Steinert went on to become the founder and curator of the photography collection at the Museum Folkwant and founder of Photokina (1950–2018), which became Europe’s largest photographic trade fair.

Introducing this increasingly widespread metaphorical style to the public was a curatorial challenge for museums. When organizing  The Family of Man, an exhibition that celebrated universal humanism at the Museum of Modern Art (MoMA), Edward Steichen thought  Wynn Bullock’s (1902–1975) image, Child in Forest, symbolized the mythical first woman and he chose it as the show’s opening piece. Steichen selected Bullock because he believed the photographer’s visual language joined the natural environment with the abstract symbolism of the inner world in an accessible manner. Although the composition of Bullock’s work is highly structured, the authority of his images lies in their ambiguous temperament that expresses his belief that reality is constructed through personal experience. The Family of Man  exhibition and book was  the  major American photographic event of the 1950s.29  Organized by Steichen, the director of the Department of Photography at MoMA (1947–1962), “as a mirror of the essential oneness of mankind,” 30  it had a highly enthusiastic public reception in 1955.31  Working on the proposition that photography was a universal language, Steichen assembled 508 images, from 68 countries, by 273 photographers, into a giant three-dimensional magazine layout. To match its democratic premise that people were all the same, Steichen did not treat the photographs as individual works but as pieces of a larger tapestry, just as in magazine practice where photographers give up control over image quality, size, placement, and editorial context. This set aside the achievements of individual photographers to support Steichen’s collective curatorial stance. Jacob Deschin, the photography critic for The New York Times, called it “essentially a pictured story to support a concept … an editorial achievement [for Steichen] rather than an exhibition of photography.” 32  The public, weary of the Korean War and Senator Joseph McCarthy’s paranoid, red-baiting,

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WYNN BULLOCK. Child in Forest, 1951. 7 7⁄16 x 9 7⁄16 inches. Gelatin silver print. In an interview, Bullock said: “I think everything is mysterious… To me everything in art is a symbol, it’s never the thing… I believe that symbols are more important than the people. They have more power to influence the world than the people who create the symbols. Why is it that all the great philosophers, scientists, painters, and so forth still have this great influence? It’s because of the symbols they’ve left us.”33 © 1951/2024 Bullock Family Photography LLC. All rights reserved.

House Un-American Activities Committee investigations, seemed ready to affirm the goodness of humankind. The show traveled for years, to over thirty countries, and a reported nine million people viewed it. Despite its unquestioned commercial success, the show had little impact on furthering the thinking of American photographers because it mostly ignored the changes and traumas that the first nuclear decade had brought about. That said, in an exhibition press release Steichen, a Navy officer during World War II, stated, “The greatest challenge of our time [is] the hydrogen bomb and what it may mean for the future of the family of man.” Toward the close of the exhibition, Steichen strikingly presented a black painted room that was

only illuminated by a 6 × 8-foot light-box transparency of the sublime H-bomb blast at Bikini Atoll, whose fallout spread apocalyptic, atomic angst over the entire show. It implied that viewers had to make a moral choice if humans were going to continue to advance or self-destruct.34 In any case, the silent 1950s heard no public outcry from photographers rejecting Steichen’s controlled, sentimental approach. The real problem was the lack of exhibition and publication alternatives that might offer a different viewpoint. Photographers who wanted to more directly address issues that threatened their artistic and intellectual freedom found reaching the public extremely difficult.

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PHOTO GRAPHY AND ALIENATION

“I was very free with the camera. I didn’t think of what would be the correct thing to do; I did what I felt good doing. I was like an action painter.”37 Frank absorbed and transformed the aesthetics and behavior of Abstract Expressionism into his photographs, creating a constant tension within his picture frame. He applied a type of photographic description to his driving odyssey that was not primarily interested in salable public images. These were nervous, private, unglamorous images that did not always deliver a clear, single narrative message, or give way to social or visual clichés. Frank responded to the American cultural landscape as seen from an automobile elliptic ally, like the existential authors and philosophers who stated that everything was tentative and relative, and this gave his images of the American road an unstable sense of ambivalence and ennui. It was a way out of the prewar contemplative aesthetics of both social realism and of his close supporter Walker Evans, providing no sense of visual security. Standard practice of the time taught photographers to discard all exposures except “The One.” Frank’s accomplishment was in using the succession of 35mm images to arrange sequences that have a completeness and makeup that no single image possessed. To make  The Americans, Frank assembled the results of his road trip into a symbolic montage in which the camera discovers its own way of communication. He photographed people in states of boredom and emptiness, while the incidental details convey themes of power, privilege, race, and religion, generating meaning by a complex layering of relationships between images. Frank avoided signs of the bourgeois “good life” and newsworthy topics. He hated “Those goddamned [Life] stories with a beginning and an end.”38 He concentrated on marginalized groups that the media often left out: African Americans, senior citizens, and teenagers. Frank’s portrayal of businessmen, cowboys, movie stars, and politicians simultaneously invoked and critiqued familiar American myths. In The Americans meaning is built

During the same year  The Family of Man  opened,  Robert Frank  (1924–2019), an émigré photographer whose work Steichen included in the show, used his Guggenheim fellowship35  to undertake what has become America’s most photographically influential and mimicked cross-country road trip. Frank came from Switzerland to New York in 1947, where he met Alexey Brodovitch, a conduit of European photographers into the U.S. scene, and Frank worked briefly as a fashion photographer for  Harper’s Bazaar. By 1953, Frank was in contact with the Beat poet Allen Ginsberg (1926–1997) who wrote the protest poem Howl (1956) and the writer Jack Kerouac (1922–1969) who, inspired by Neal Cassady, wrote On the Road (1957), a counterculture novel that became a touchstone for the Beat subculture and later for Baby Boomers to take to the road to discover the world and oneself. Frank’s intensely personal vision of the mainline culture of the Eisenhower years was not an optimistic Steichenesque celebration of togetherness; instead it reflected the alienation, loneliness, and spiritual desolation he felt while reading JeanPaul Sartre’s trilogy,  Four Roads to Freedom.36  By exposing some 800 rolls of 35mm film during his meandering journey that crisscrossed the United States, Frank actively searched for a new structure with which to comprehend the nuclear world within the artistic, political, and social strictures of the United States. Frank intuitively used a small 35mm Leica in available light situations as an extension of his body, disregarding the photojournalistic standards of construction and content matter. His stealthful, disjointed forms, and inclusion of blur, grain, movement, and off-kilter compositions, provided the emotional, unpicturesque, and gestural carrier of what would become the new 35mm message: the freedom to discover new content and formal methods of making photographs. Frank said:

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up from each preceding image, like a jazz piece, where even the blank soundless spaces are necessary for flow and interpretation. The visual motifs that hold  The Americans  together—automobiles, diners, flags, jukeboxes, televisions—created a new iconography for “the road.” In his introduction to The Americans, Jack Kerouac recognized Frank as a modern Ulysses who critically conveyed the paradoxical feelings of stimulation and isolation that accompany a voyage through popular culture: Anybody doesnt like these pitchers dont like potry, see? Anybody dont like potry go home see Television shots of big hatted cowboys being tolerated by kind horses … Robert Frank, Swiss unobtrusive, nice, with that little camera that he raises and snaps with one hand he sucked a sad poem right out of America onto film, taking rank among the tragic poets of the world [sic].39

Frank could not find a U.S. publisher and  The Americans  was first released in France in 1958. The initial responses to the American 1959 Grove Press edition were negative. The editors of Popular Photography  took the unusual step of collectively reviewing it. Almost without exception, they condemned Frank’s approach: it showed “contempt for any standards of quality or discipline in technique.” His point of view produced “an attack on the United States” and “a sad poem for sick people.”40  Frank knew that his images would be controversial because they rejected the values of the  Family of Man, violated the canons of documentary methods and techniques, and bypassed the country’s natural beauty, technological  achievements, and virtues of hard work. He believed that “life for a photographer cannot be a matter of indifference and it is important to see what is invisible to others.” But the criticisms of The Americans increased Frank’s disgust with the state of professional practice. He wrote:

© ROBERT FRANK. Hoover Dam, 1955. 18 3⁄16 x 12 3⁄16 inches. Gelatin silver print. Under a blazing Nevada sun, Robert Frank’s amalgam of pictures brought together the natural, rough, wild canyons of the Colorado River, the smooth, artificial, restraining container of the Hoover Dam, and the terror of an atomic mushroom cloud, producing a 1950s allegory of the past, present, and future. Frank’s vision of the atomic era can be understood in the statement: “Black and white is the vision of hope and despair. This is what I want in my photographs.”41 COURTESY  Pace/MacGill Gallery, New York.

Photography is a solitary journey. That is the only course open to the creative photographer. There is no

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Frank’s fusion of the documentary mode with the subjective metaphor, along with his resistance to established structure, his demand for authorial control, and his willingness to learn how to present what the camera sees, are his strongest attributes. The union of moody subjectivity and the documentary style was also being perfected by William Klein (1928–2022), an expatriate American fashion photographer, filmmaker, designer, and painter, who left New York to make Paris his home. While recognized in Europe, his non-fashion work was largely ignored in the United States during the 1950s because his unruly images did not fit into the social realist working mode.43 Klein enlarged the syntax of photography by combining the in-your-face action approach of Weegee with the sensibility of a satirical Sartre. He utilized a Leica with a wide-angle lens to satisfy what he called “a gluttonous rage … to see all the contradictions and confusion”44 of big cities like New York, Rome, and Tokyo. Klein was an anti-photographer who courted accident, blur, contrast, distortion, cockeyed framing, graininess, high contrast, and movement. His energetic style encouraged chance by making long exposures in dim light and shooting without even looking into the viewfinder leading some to say his photographs looked accidental. In a 2003 Slate magazine piece Jim Lewis wrote: “Klein broke half the rules of photography and ignored the other half.” Klein rebelled against the 1950s notions of the Decisive Moment, which included not intervening into a scene, making good compositions, and producing normal looking prints.45 His images are not those of a detached observer but those of a provocateur. Klein referred to his Life Is Good for You in New York—William Klein Trance Witness Revels (1956) as “a crash course in what was not to be done in photography.”46  His dynamically unconventional framing and printing techniques, which wooed the luminous light-scattering qualities of photographic halation (lens flare), emphasize the vaporization of pre-atomic values and a rising sense of anarchy,

compromise: Only a few photographers accept this fact. That is probably the reason why we have only a few really great photographers. In recent years camera journalism has become many people’s definition of good photography. For me camera journalism means taste dictated by the magazines.42

Frank’s strong editing and sequencing of  The Americans, reducing some 27,000 exposures to 83 final images, allowed his photographs to speak unaccompanied by text. In spite of the initial negative criticism,  The Americans  would go on to encourage generations of emerging photographers to explore how photographs could freely communicate complex sensations and sophisticated thoughts when liberated from directorial text within a book format. By the early 1960s, Frank’s talent for sequencing images led him into filmmaking, and he made  Pull My Daisy  (1959–1960),  Me and My Brother  (1965–1968), the infamous  Cocksucker Blues (1972), which portrayed The Rolling Stones on tour and was suppressed by Mick Jagger, and a video, Home Improvements (1985). His film editing experience led to his later inclusion of words with his still pictures, which appeared in  The Lines of My Hand  (1972). Frank also experimented with mixed media—glue, tape, and nails—and still photographs to demonstrate the impossibility of “securing” a fixed meaning. Frank’s most accessible and forceful still and motion picture work created a structure that portrayed its subjects without the hierarchy of a master narrative, directly from life’s ordinary non-events that nobody had bothered to depict. The disjunctions between the figures and objects express a sense of urgency about mundane things while retaining a sly sense of humor. These unidealized commonplace pleasures purposely abandon the merchandising context of commercial publishing and the constraints of photojournalistic time. Instead, they are pictures of existential doubt that force observers to examine their own values.

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© WILLIAM KLEIN. Gun 2, Near the Bowery, NY, 1955. 9 3⁄16 x 13 5⁄8 inches. Gelatin silver print. Klein recalled that he was “very consciously trying to do the opposite of what Cartier-Bresson was doing… I wanted to be visible in the biggest way possible. My aesthetics was the New York Daily News. I saw the book I wanted to do as a tabloid gone berserk, gross, grainy, over-inked, with a brutal layout, bull-horn headlines. This is what New York deserved and would get.”47 COURTESY  Howard Greenberg Gallery, New York.

chaos, and dread that most people wished to ignore. His use of black tones challenged traditional photographic print values and accentuated the sense of the city as théâtre noir. According to Klein, “everyone I showed them to said, ‘Ech! This isn’t New York— too ugly, too seedy, too one-sided.’ They said, ‘This isn’t photography. This is shit!’ ” 48 The direct eye contact between subject and photographer often found in Klein’s compositions clues viewers in to the fact that Klein’s presence has caused a reaction. Despite his confrontational strategy, which captures or elicits overt social hostility, Klein’s

attitude toward his subjects remains ambiguous. His practice of getting too close and violating the conventions of proximal space flew in the face of the modernist reliance on formal pictorial organization that deemphasized and distanced photographers from their subjects. Klein’s city books, Rome (1958), Moscow (1964), and Tokyo (1964), for which he did the layout, the witty captions, and cover designs, revolve around aggression. Regardless of the culture, polite values are nonexistent. What Klein pictures is a subject’s animosity toward the whole process: the camera, the photographer, and the

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viewer. His catalog of irreverent “mistakes” as masterstrokes helped codify a new way of seeing. Klein’s incorporation of text, billboards, and signs, along with his books’ aggressive layouts, assaults viewers with innovative montages that combine images and words to recreate the same sense of action that he and other filmgoers experienced in Paris’s Cinémathèque (founded 1936), which holds one of the largest film archives and offers daily screenings of international films. Between 1955 and 1965, Klein worked with Alexander Liberman at  Vogue, taking models out of the studio and into the street, pioneering a new use of space with his wide-angle and telephoto lenses. In 1958, Klein took up filmmaking. Among his works are a problematic trilogy on African Americans:  Eldridge Cleaver, Black Panther  (1970);  Muhammad Ali: The Greatest  (1964–1974); and  The Little Richard Story  (1979). The made-on-the-fly films address the role of language: who controls it in the media and how words and images formulate identity.49 His later fashion work, In and Out of Fashion: William Klein (1994), reflects Klein’s interest in motion and time. Some prints from this body of work appear to have been made directly from a grease-pencilmarked 35mm contact sheet.50  Here the enlarged image contains a central frame that has been circled along with parts of the preceding and following frames. When exhibited, the images look like pieces of movie film stock and are read chronologically from left to right. Klein also presents contact sheets in his exhibitions to provide a visual record of how he sees his way through situations. Mario Giacomelli (1925–2000) displayed some of the rebellious traits of the New York school, such as audacious framing and image cropping along with radical darkroom techniques, to transcend the traditions of the media. Giacomelli began as a landscape painter who operated a typography shop in his agricultural village of Senigallia, Italy, before taking up poetry and then photography.

The  neo-realist  films of Vittorio De Sica, Roberto Rossellini, and Luchino Visconti, frankly depicting the loss of direction facing World War II-ravaged Italy, inspired Giacomelli’s awareness of the camera’s power. This aesthetic is characterized in Rossellini’s film Open City (1945). Recorded on newsreel stock, and made on location with available light with mainly nonprofessional actors, the film conveys a sense of authenticity and journalistic immediacy. Its structure was a series of episodic vignettes that did not idealize the characters, but showed ordinary people in heroic moments reflecting the neo-realist motto: “This is the way things are.” Working with these values, Giacomelli dealt with his community’s partnership with the land. He photographed the same piece of earth, from the same vantage point, throughout the year, usually altering the perspective by excluding the horizon line to deprive onlookers of any visual anchor. Giacomelli foreshortened space by stacking up forms as if they were on a vertical plane. In 1956, Giacomelli wrote: “I have taken from the conscience of nature; the work of man, the marks, the ground, and here the chance instants of recording before the losses are gone for the relative duration of time.”51 That same year Giacomelli embarked on a longterm project based on the title of a poem about old age, “Death will come and it will have your eyes” (1954–1983). The series of gritty, high-contrast, black and white prints, made with an old 6 x 9 cm camera and flash, has been called bleak and pessimistic, but it accurately conveys the passionate sense of enclosing darkness that his elderly subjects were experiencing. He distorted some of his prints by letting one corner of the paper curl up and float while exposing it under the enlarger. Giacomelli followed this project with others on butchered animals, the Romani people, and war victims at Lourdes. Giacomelli’s dynamic urgency and lack of concern for proper use of materials found a following in the United States during the 1960s, and it can also be seen in the works of Robert Frank and

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MARIO GIACOMELLI. La Gente del Sud: Scanno, No. 52, 1959. 11 x 14 7⁄16 inches. Gelatin silver print. In the town of Scanno, located in the Apennine Mountains of central Italy, Giacomelli photographed people carrying out their daily chores. He used a slow shutter speed and shallow depth of field to record these stark, black-clad figures against whitewashed architectural surroundings, giving a phantastic sense of a place mysteriously immersed in the past. COURTESY

Mario Giacomelli Archive © Rita and Simone Giacomelli

Josef Koudelka (b. 1938), whose deep, dark print tones portray the mental and physical conundrums and world-weariness of being a refugee. By 1960, Giacomelli’s response to his sense that humans had overrun nature was to cut patterns into the landscape with a tractor. In 1970 he photographed the plowed fields from the air. The sensation of violent upheaval can be seen in the physical appearance of Giacomelli’s work. People

were agitated by his high-contrast prints, which often had only three tones, deep black, middle grey, and pure white, a departure from the fine-print aesthetic. Giacomelli did not see a negative as a fixed, sacred entity but as a flexible starting place for inner expression. He executed darkroom techniques to intensify and/or eliminate information. Not content to stick with what the camera delivered, Giacomelli was determined to shape the medium to his vision.

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MAKING A BIG LEAP: AN ABSTRACT PARADIGM SHIFT The ideas of Moholy-Nagy and the images of Francis Bruguière, Lotte Jacobi, and Frederick Sommer opened the doors of subjective realities to the abstract experiments of  Henry Holmes Smith  (1909–1986) of the late 1940s.52  Smith supported the metaphorical mode while working to establish art photography in  academia using a scientific model. In his article “XI Zero in Photography” (the title refers to the name of an atomic particle), Smith wrote that photographers should follow the example of nuclear physicists and create their own community to control photographic discourse without concern for popular opinion. His semi-scientific position is indicative of the confusion during the early atomic era, when science appeared to have flattened all natural avenues for connecting with life forces. Not interested in pursuing the seen world of facts but in searching for ways to visualize myth, Smith became absorbed in how light formed images. He wrote: “Photographers know something special about light: the photographic mark of light is dark, the brightest light makes the blackest mark.”53  Smith demonstrated his ideas using Karo corn syrup in place of a lens. “As the syrup runs down the sheet of glass it causes light falling on it to refract making marks that celebrate light itself.”54 Behind the glass, a sheet of enlarging paper was exposed to the light from a 50-year-old, 100-watt theater spotlight with a clear lens, set up 15 to 20 feet away and controlled with a foot switch:

© HENRY HOLMES SMITH. Giant, 1949. 8¾ x 6¼ inches. Dye transfer print. In the 1970s, Smith began copying his earlier black-and-white refraction prints onto matrix film, allowing him to make multiple series of color images by layering mats and dyes. This earlier work, from which he would make new versions, reveals a shimmering amber glow, demonstrating Smith’s resourcefulness with. Here light oscillates through an anthropomorphic figure that might have come from another galaxy. Such works personify Smith’s intent to topple photography’s close relationship with realism and amplify its emotional and psychological potentials. COURTESY  Smith Family Trust and the Center for Creative Photography,

Tucson, AZ.

The shapes … tell me things … how a child might imagine a giant in a horrid ancient tale, the mystery of all that I shall never see and the wonder of a good many things I shall never understand. There may be more than I know in the pictures and I am content to know that.55

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This process of combining cliché-verre with the photogram fused drawing and painting methods to create symbolic images. Smith claimed it allowed “intangible characters from the ancient mythological world” to appear. The technique was an “automatic” photographic process of poetic picturemaking similar to the gestural methods of Abstract Expressionists. Smith’s color experiments, begun in 1936, when few people considered it a serious artistic medium, followed a similar course of not being limited by the rules of color representation that relied on filters or colored lights to achieve their color balances. Smith dismissed the relationship of the subject’s color to his results by picking monochromatic subjects and introducing color through a color printing process.56  Such experiments in printmaking methods set the stage for the investigation of alternatives to straight photography that would characterize the 1960s.57 At the invitation of Moholy-Nagy, Smith taught at the New Bauhaus for the year of its existence, 1937–1938. Between 1947 and 1977, Smith taught at Indiana University, where he developed one of the first college-level courses in the history of photography. His students who would continue to investigate alternative processes included Jerry Uelsmann, Robert W. Fichter, and Betty Hahn (see Chapter 17).

© JOHN REUTER. Spirits of Père Lachaise, 2017. 52 x 42 inches. Multi-panel Polacolor image transfer mounted on canvas, dry pigment, graphite, and pastel. John Reuter was the director of the Polaroid 20 x 24 Project who pushed the boundaries of the Polaroid process by initially transferring the Polaroid dyes on to a new support material, such as canvas and watercolor paper. He then hand transformed the image with dry pigment, pastel, retouching dyes and watercolor to produce large, evocative panel image assemblies. COURTESY

John Reuter Collection.

instant photography A hallmark of the atomic age was the knowledge that science could change things irrevocably in a flash. Edwin H. Land’s (1909–1991) Polaroid process satisfied the public’s desire to make one’s own images in a moment. Aesthetically, Polaroid is a model of photography’s continuous technical metamorphosis that in turn transforms the practice in unintended ways including makers like John Reuter (b. 1953) who use the film’s matrix to create the final work, transferring the image

to another substrate, arranging the images, and manipulating the emulsion before it is set.58 Land got the idea in 1943 while taking snapshots of his daughter, who wanted to know why she could not see the pictures immediately. The result was the 1948 Christmastime introduction of a self-contained camera system that delivered a brown tone print in one minute, signaling the coming retreat of Talbot’s latent image and the wet darkroom. The wondrous swiftness of the Polaroid process became

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its main selling point as it drastically reduced the uncertainty factor of whether a photograph “came out.” Polaroid went on to develop a range of products, including color films, which were routinely used by amateurs and professionals alike. Polaroid encouraged artistic exploration of these unique images by employing Ansel Adams as a consultant from 1948 until his death in 1984. The company also had a distinctive policy of collecting images for exhibition and publication by artists working with Polaroid materials.59 Land refined and speeded up Eastman’s underlying concept that one did not have to be a photographer to make photographs. It made picturemaking fun and ensured privacy, making it ideal for intimate and sexual situations. The downside was it required an exclusive Polaroid camera or Polaroid film back and the film was expensive. Even so, Polaroid products like the Swinger camera (1965) and the Kodak Instamatic camera (1963) continued to democratize the practice, encouraging people who knew nothing about photography to become their own picturemakers and to affirm their own personal lives. Eventually, the immediacy of digital imaging made even Polaroid products outmoded, leading the company to cease film production in 2008. However, another company, The Impossible Project, began selling certain types of instant film in 2010. Rebranded simply as Polaroid in 2020, it continues to produce instant films for classic Polaroid cameras as well as new cameras. Also, Fuji, who introduced their own instant photographic products in 1981, maintains a limited line of instant cameras and film.

from their original circumstances, and through juxtaposition giving them new meaning, is indicative of how picturemaking criteria changed in the nuclear age. Richard Hamilton’s (1922–2011) collage, Just What Is It That Makes Today’s Homes So Different, So Appealing?, in which the word “Pop” makes its artistic debut, contains the key visual ingredients of Pop Art. Writing about what he called a “landscape of secondary, filtered material,” Hamilton stated that “Pop should be: Popular (designed for a mass audience), Transient (short-term solution), Expendable (easily forgotten), Low-cost, Mass-produced, Young (aimed at youth), Witty, Sexy, Gimmicky, Glamorous, Big Business….”60 In an era when television and radio were replacing books and painting as the social carriers of culture, Lawrence Alloway, the English critic who in 1958 coined the term “Pop Art,” had this to say: Mass production techniques, applied to accurately repeatable words, pictures, and music, have resulted in an expendable multitude of signs and symbols. To approach this exploding field with Renaissance-based ideas of the uniqueness of art is crippling. Acceptance of the mass media entails a shift in our notion of what culture is. Instead of reserving the word for the highest artifacts and the noblest thoughts of history’s top ten, it needs to be used more widely as a description of “what society does.”61

Under an ironic guise, Pop Art took hold in America, celebrating the postwar-nuclear era mass consumer theater of desire and illusion, while rejecting the heroic personal, spiritual stance and psychological content of the Abstract Expressionists. It provided the foundation for the silk-screened celebrities of Andy Warhol, the comic strip look of Roy Lichtenstein’s (1923–1997) paintings, and the transformation of commonplace objects into monumental sculpture by Claes Oldenburg (1929‒2022). This technically rooted  work asserted that American culture had already embraced the multiple—the

pop goes the atom The smashing of atoms to generate nuclear fission produced transformations in other aspects of society that had been taken for granted. The phenomenon of a camera-free photographer taking preexisting photo-based images, removing them

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© RICHARD HAMILTON. Just What Is It That Makes Today’s Homes So Different, So Appealing? 1956. 10¼ × 9¾ inches. Collage. All Rights Reserved, DACS and ARS 2016. COURTESY  Kunsthalle, Tübingen, Germany.

assembly line that made identical products that everyone could buy. As the nuclear age challenged the belief in nature as the source of creation, artists turned to the inventive possibilities of the machine for inspiration. In 1957, California assemblage artist and hipster

Wallace Berman (1926–1976), who came of age in the aftermath of World War II, when the horrors of global warfare, the Holocaust, and atomic bombings were fresh in people’s minds, produced collages with a new technology—the Verifax machine.62 Using a constant motif, such as a hand holding a transistor

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© WALLACE BERMAN. Untitled (C-3 Cross), 1975. 33½ × 30½ inches. Verifax matrix prints. Wallace Berman’s defining motif is a hand holding a transistor radio, which was appropriated from an advertisement. On the radio’s empty surface, Berman superimposed other mass-media images to form a display of cultural tropes. Berman intermixed different forms of communication technology forming disconcerting puzzles that defy conventional interpretation. The small painted Hebrew letters interject spiritual conviction, reflecting Berman’s fascination in the mystical Kabbalah. COURTESY  Estate of Wallace Berman and Kohn Gallery, Los Angeles, CA.

turned the process itself around by using the negative matrices as the images. This reversal simplifies a subject and heightens the emblematic power of an image by removing it from the documentary arena. These dark, gritty, and streaked prints were generally presented in a grid series, suggesting a cosmic

radio, he replaced the radio with commonplace images, like a football player or a Master lock, to form a repeating cinematic structure. Hebrew letters were featured in many images as Berman strived to incorporate sociological  and spiritual meaning through the mysticism of the Kabbalah.63 He often

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oracle or atomic force that transforms energy into visible symbols. Berman is characteristic of those nonphotographers, knowing nothing of photographic convention, who burst onto the scene in the 1960s. These artists used copy machines, not to duplicate text-based documents, but to inexpensively record a new set of materialistic values drawn from popular mass-media sources, and thereby to create new works. These isolated experiments, made during an era that would only accept the “straight” documentary approach, displayed the ease by which any image could be appropriated and become a part of another work. One now had a quick and affordable method of bringing the subject to the camera, making compositions of the pyramids on a copy-machine glass instead of on a camera’s ground glass and using the newfound technology to push a button and instantaneously print the results.

spontaneously kissing in front of an outdoor café on a busy Parisian street. The man’s right hand on the woman’s right shoulder draws her to his lips and they kiss, all in perfect view of the camera. Shortly before Doisneau’s death a French couple, claiming to be the kissers, who unsuccessfully sued for royalties, raised disconcerting questions surrounding how this image was made. Doisneau’s lawyers disproved their claim by producing contact sheets of the couple in the photograph in locations around Paris and contracts showing that they had been hired for a project commissioned by Life. The text accompanying the original piece in Life said the photographs were “unposed,” a claim Doisneau never denied. In an interview Doisneau stated: Photography is not a document on which a report can be made. It is a “subjective” document. Photography is a false witness, a lie. People want to prove the universe

THE SUBJECTIVE D O CUMENTARY During the early years of the atomic age, most Americans did not see new photography through the work of cloistered artists but experienced it through a humanistic reporting style brought over by exiled European practitioners. This subjective documentary approach gained popularity in the late 1940s and was typified in the lyrical photography of Marc Riboud (1923–1916) and the sympathetic authenticity of  Robert Doisneau  (1912–1994). The popularity of Doisneau’s bistro and street scenes hinged on nostalgia, presenting a disappearing lifestyle that appealed to an American ideal of old Europe and functioned as a respite from nuclear angst. Doisneau’s image,  Le Baiser de l’Hotel de Ville, 1950, a.k.a  The Kiss, became a poster icon of street photography and young love. The photograph appears to have “caught” a woman and a man

© ROBERT DOISNEAU. Le Baiser de L’ Hotel de Ville, 1950. Variable dimensions. Gelatin silver print. This photograph of a couple kissing in the crowd of a crosswalk in the Rue de Rivoli, was made on assignment for Life about lovers in Paris, France. COURTESY  Atelier Robert Doisneau.

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Gordon Parks’s (1912–2006) ability to function in a multitude of social situations during the Jim Crow era led to his hiring as the first Black staff photographer for  Life  (1948–1972). His photo essays on the Black fight for equality brought the issues and leaders from a broad cross-section of the African American community—including Martin Luther King, Jr., the Black Muslims, the Black Panthers, Eldridge Cleaver, and Muhammad Ali—into white middle-class living rooms. His directorial, theatrical picturemaking style led him to make his film,  Shaft  (1971), which crossed over the racial divide within popular culture. It went on to influence Hollywood and American society, shaping public debate and breaking ground for others to follow. Parks also wrote a number of autobiographies starting with  Weapons of Choice  (1966) and ending with Half Past Autumn (1997). A transition in viewing habits began as a small audience developed an interest in photographer-artists. In New York, Helen Gee (1915–2004) opened Limelight, a gallery devoted to photography that was supported by profits from its coffeehouse. Between 1954 and 1961, Limelight presented 61 exhibitions, including the work of Robert Frank and Lisette Model.67 Coffeehouses became sites for Beat poets, folk singers, jazz musicians, and the counterculture of social protest. Allen Ginsberg’s “hydrogen jukebox” attack on American values, Howl, expressed the sentiments of the era: “I saw the best minds of my generation, destroyed by madness starving, mystical, naked, who dragged themselves thru the angry streets at dawn looking for a negro fix ….” His poem stirred up so much public anger that it was seized by the authorities.68 During the same year, African American photographer Roy DeCarava opened A Photographer’s Gallery (1955–1957) in New York, where artists like Harry Callahan and Minor White could be seen by appointment.69  However, aside from small irregularly operating galleries, MoMA was the only regular source of photography exhibitions in New York.

is there. It is a physical image that contains a certain amount of documentation, which is fine, but it isn’t evidence, a testimony upon which a general philosophy can be based.64

These revelations broke with an unspoken contract governing what viewers expect to call reality. The strength and weakness of documentary photography, including in the digital age, is based on the collective trust between the photographer and the viewer.65 By accepting Doisneau’s “unposed” picture, his audience agreed to believe they were witnessing a scene from “real” life. Instead, they were unknowingly taken in by a docudrama. Doisneau’s work is emblematic of the changing ground rules of the 1950s that revealed the contradictions and incongruities in prenuclear assumptions. Relativism, what many social conservatives would call the great disease of modernity, reshaped relationships. Agreements between photographers and viewers were called off as the age of viewing innocence ended. The concept of a photograph as a nonfictional transcription of reality had to be rethought and seen instead as constructed fiction. A new public viewing motto could have been: “Seeing is not believing.” During a time when artists were questioning the idea of proof and reality, people still wanted pictures that confirmed their ideas about the universe, widening the gap between public expectation and how artists were now presenting the world. The process of renegotiating what constituted reality in the atomic age was underway. The atomic age broke the stranglehold of the “big” picture magazines. Readership diminished as a generation brought up on the immediacy of television and airplane travel found the closed form photoessay an inadequate and exhausted experience. This loss of purpose and vitality, plus rising production costs, led to the folding of   Collier’s  in 1957, followed by  Coronet  in 1961,  The American Weekly in 1963, Look in 1971, and Life in 1972.66

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© GORDON PARKS. Emerging Man, 1952. 14 7⁄8 × 19 1⁄8 inches. Gelatin silver print. Emerging Man visualizes the continuing identity crisis that has affected generations of Black men who have struggled against racism and poverty. The image is based on Ralph Ellison’s novel, Invisible Man (1952), a story that chronicles a nameless Black man who lives alone in an underground room as he searches to find himself in a society that does not want to acknowledge his existence and that insists that he remain unseen and powerless. This image and three others were published as “A Man Becomes Invisible,” in Life (August 25, 1952), 9–11. The article states that with Ellison’s help Parks re-created scenes from the novel “to show the loneliness, the horror and the disillusionment of a man who has lost faith in himself and the world.” COURTESY  The Gordon Parks Foundation.

The atomic era opened additional fissures in the area of race relations in America. In 1947 Jackie Robinson (1919–1972) became the first African American man to play modern major league baseball, part of a larger trend that would eventually lead the Supreme Court to strike down “Jim Crow” segregation laws that controlled how and where people of color could interact with white society.70 The desire to show these changing parameters of the atomic world can be seen in the work of Roy DeCarava (1919–2009), who became the first African American to receive a Guggenheim fellowship. DeCarava’s work expressed a fundamental paradox that African

Americans faced in the materialistically expanding nuclear culture of the 1950s: being surrounded by white dreams that Blacks were often denied the means to attain. DeCarava came into the public eye for collaborating on a book about life in Harlem, The Sweet Flypaper of Life (1955), with writer Langston Hughes. His moody prints, often dark and with a glowing area of light, whether of jazz musicians or urban street life, showed the competing dynamism of darkness and light. While African American life and culture were central to DeCarava, his most resolute work transcends the literalness of situations and penetrates

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their binary meaning. In Hallway New York (1953), a claustrophobic tenement hallway illuminated by a dim overhead light, whose walls seem almost a mirror reflection of each other, propels the viewer toward a barely visible doorway.  DeCarava’s psychological involvement, traveling down the hallway of the present to the door (escape) of the future, transforms the subject into a metaphor. Although DeCarava emphatically states that his “work is about beauty and caring,”71 this interaction of reality and illusion and its accompanying contradictions provides context, tension, and shared ground for meaning within a moment of stillness, revealing that racism has excluded the majority of African Americans from benefitting during the post-nuclear boom. This adoption of an autobiographical approach, the incorporation of oneself into the visual structure, widely filtered into the practice of the 1960s. As the demand for photographic education increased, DeCarava ran the Kamoinge Workshop for young Black photographers (1963–1966) and later taught at New York’s Hunter College.72 Running on a parallel track of opposite aesthetics was  Eliot Porter  (1901–1990), a Harvard Medical School graduate, teacher, and researcher in bacteriology and biochemistry, and amateur photographer, who was profoundly impressed by Ansel Adams’s work. After Stieglitz showed Porter’s images at An American Place in 1938–1939, Porter devoted himself to photography, developing new methods for photographing wild animals, birds, and insects by using telephoto lenses, flash, and special shutters. To Porter, nature was “an undiluted source of pleasure and a reservoir of mysteries” about life, and he wanted to use science to understand and protect it. In 1940, Porter started making his  dye transfer process prints in order to achieve more accurate and permanent colors. The dye transfer process was a subtractive  imbibition  assembly method that relied on the selective absorption of dyes for making color prints from color positives. Gelatin relief matrices were produced from three separation negatives

© ROY DECARAVA. The Sound I Saw: The Jazz Photographs of Roy DeCarava, 1983. Book cover detail (11 x 11 inches). Photo offset. The Sound I Saw, published by the Studio Museum in Harlem, pays tribute to New York jazz luminaries like Duke Ellington, Billie Holliday, and John Coltrane (cover image) who DeCarava began photographing in 1956. His love of jazz is conveyed through his remarkably veiled, atmospheric prints that can shroud his subject and yet elicit an ecstatic and hallucinatory spiritual experience. “The difference between me and other photographers,” DeCarava once said, “is that I refuse to accept darkness as a limitation.”73

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ELIOT PORTER. Sangre de Christo Mountains at Sunset, Tesuque, New Mexico, July 1958. 8 5⁄8 x 8 7⁄16 inches. Dye imbibition print (Kodak dye transfer). Ansel Adams referred to Porter as “master of nature’s color,” and Porter’s meditative carefully constructed landscapes reflect his longstanding fondness and respect for the wilderness and its animal inhabitants. Porter believed that “to put the world, and yourself at the same time, in a valid perspective you must remove yourself from the demands of both. The world’s demands fade the faster, but nonetheless surely your own will shrink to acceptable proportions and cannot sally forth to attack you. In the wilderness of Glen Canyon you do not assail yourself. You glide on into the day unpursued, living, as all good river travelers should, in the present.”74 © 1990 Amon Carter Museum of American Art, Fort Worth, Texas, Bequest of the Artist.

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made through red, green, and blue filters, soaked in yellow, magenta, and cyan dyes, and transferred in register to a special support paper. The system can be traced back to 1875 and remained commercially accessible until Kodak discontinued it in 1994. The process was complex and demanding, but it offered incredible latitude in manipulating a print and was much more stable than a chromogenic color print of that era. Influenced by Thoreau and Stieglitz, Porter created visual equivalents of passages from Thoreau that he found inspiring. He included selections from Thoreau in his first monograph, In Wildness Is the Preservation of the World (1962) that was published by the Sierra Club. Porter went on to become wellknown through his publications, such as The Place No One Knew: Glen Canyon on the Colorado (1963). As its title suggested, that book showed photographs of what was lost when the damming of the Colorado River for the generation of electricity meant flooding Glen Canyon to create Lake Powell. This was a belated lesson for the Sierra Club75  as it discovered the effectiveness of harnessing beauty, that which makes the content of art powerful to the beholder,76  to promote environmental causes. Porter’s “beautiful” color images helped awaken consciousness about ecological issues and the dangers of unregulated land use and technology. His photographs assisted the newly forming environmental movement by getting people to join the Sierra Club, on whose Board of Directors Porter served from 1962–1968, and had the added benefit of helping color photography gain entry into the art world. In the foreword of The Place No One Knew, editor David Brower asked:

challenge to explore has been met, handled, and relished by one generation—and precluded to any other.77

But as much as artists like Porter and Paul Caponigro (b. 1932), a student of Minor White, continued to celebrate Thoreau’s “tonic of wildness,” the world was pushing the limits of nature. Some of Caponigro’s early East Coast work incorporated urban distress, but his move to the Southwest, allowing him to stay within his internal universe, typified the division in photographic practice between these two philosophies. Most of Caponigro’s high modernist work deals with uniting people’s relationship to nature, revealing “the landscape behind the landscape.”78 Even so, a division formed between the artists born in preatomic and post-atomic times, as it became harder to believe in past truths in the face of the atomic reality. Those capable of maintaining a pre-atomic outlook kept their faith in the mysteries of nature; those who dissented against the scientific atomic outlook became existentialists who sought the freedom to create new possibilities.

THE TERROR OF RICHES The automobile, as Robert Frank had observed, symbolized a machine of personal power. The American love affair with the automobile was consummated by President Eisenhower’s Federal-Aid Highway Act of 1956, authorizing the construction of over 40,000 miles of interstate superhighways without much thought to carnage, congestion, destruction of core city neighborhoods, suburban sprawl, or petroleum dependence. The 1950s saw the American family’s disposable income rise by 49 percent. A baby boom began in the United States after World War II; more babies were born between 1948 and 1953 than in all the previous thirty years. But what was the price of this new affluence? Between 1940

But where will the chance to know wildness be a generation from now? How much of the magic of this, the American earth, will have been dozed and paved into oblivion by the great feats of engineering that seem to come so much more readily to hand than the knack of saving something for what it is? … Again and again the

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© UNITED STATES DEPARTMENT OF DEFENSE. Operation Crossroads Baker, 1946. On July 25, 1946, the United States conducted the first-ever underwater nuclear explosion. Test Baker, detonated at the Bikini Atoll in the Pacific Ocean, was the fifth of over 2,000 nuclear explosions conducted. They were the first nuclear weapon tests since Trinity in July 1945, and the first detonations of nuclear devices since the atomic bombing of Nagasaki on August 9, 1945. Their purpose was to investigate the effect of nuclear weapons on warships. The wider, exterior cloud is actually a condensation cloud caused by the Wilson chamber effect. The actual mushroom cloud is inside the condensation cloud. The water released by the blast was highly radioactive and contaminated the ships that were set up near it. COURTESY

Library of Congress, Washington, D.C.

and 1964, the number of psychiatrists increased almost sixfold. Americans believed they needed the Bomb to protect their newfound material wealth, and test bombs were regularly set off. H-bomb tests annihilated atolls in the South Pacific; A-bombs charred the Nevada desert. Cold War East‒West relations deteriorated with the Soviet downing of an American U-2 spy plane in 1960. The politics of brinkmanship was brought to a climax by President John F. Kennedy (1917–1963) and Soviet Premier Nikita Khrushchev (1894–1971) during the 1962 Cuban Missile Crisis that took the world to the edge of nuclear destruction.79 Beneath the material riches lay terror. Social activist/critic Todd Gitlin wrote:

We grew up taking cover in school drills—the first American generation compelled from infancy to fear not only war but the end of days. Every so often, out of the blue, a teacher would pause in the middle of class and call out, “Take cover!” … Under the desks and crouched in the hallways, terrors were ignited, existentialists were made… Several observers have reported what my own impressions and interviews confirm: Children who grew up in the Fifties often dreamed, vividly, terrifyingly, about nuclear war.80

While middle-class Americans indulged in the contradictory aspirations of creativity and security, learning to draw pictures from Jon Gnagy’s

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television show You Are an Artist, a fringe subculture of alienated antiheroes began to rebel against what J. D. Salinger’s Holden Caulfield called “phoniness” in Catcher in the Rye (1951). For this affluent and educated minority, who felt caught in a restrictive world, science had failed. The reliance and expense of the Bomb meant there was no future as resources for cities, infrastructure, and schools were drained for a secretive national-security state.81 Imagemakers were challenged to confront and portray the anxiety, beauty, energy, and horror of the atomic age. It became apparent to them that “Alternative” directions and solutions were necessary if humankind would continue to evolve and succeed.

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See Richard Rhodes,  Dark Sun: The Making of the Hydrogen Bomb (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1995), 203–5. “The Doomsday Clock is an internationally recognized design that conveys how close we are to destroying our civilization with dangerous technologies of our own making. First and foremost among these are nuclear weapons, but the dangers include climate-changing technologies, emerging biotechnologies, and cybertechnology that could inflict irrevocable harm, whether by intention, miscalculation, or by accident, to our way of life and to the planet.” See more at: http://thebulletin. org/overview#sthash.sJwmXfaS.dpuf Newhall rewrote the catalog as a book in 1949. Its narrative strategy was planned with the assistance of a storyteller, Hollywood scriptwriter and novelist Ferdinand Reyher. See Paul Hill and Thomas Cooper,  Dialogue with Photography (New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1979), 407–8. Newhall’s catalog, and its revised editions, became the standard history of photography textbook for years thereafter. See an early critique of the dominance of Newhall’s textbook in Peter C. Bunnell, “Can There Ever Again Be a History of Photography?” (1975), in Andrew E. Hershberger, ed.,  Photographic Theory: An Historical Anthology  (Boston, MA and Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell, 2014), 211–13. Also see Allison Bertrand, “Beaumont Newhall’s ‘Photography 1839– 1937’—Making History,” History of Photography 21, no. 2 (Summer 1997).

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Nancy Newhall was a writer and worked with Ansel Adams on eight books, including  This Is the American Earth  (1960) and her biography of Adams,  The Eloquent Light, 1963. While Beaumont was in the military service she was acting photography curator at MoMA. She wrote the poetic text for Paul Strand’s  Time in New England  (1950), edited  The Daybooks of Edward Weston (1957 and 1961), and authored P. H. Emerson: The Fight for Photography as a Fine Art (1975). See also Adams, “A Personal Credo” (1943), in Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 142–46. See Rhodes, Dark Sun, 175. In Hershberger, ed.,  Photographic Theory, this idea can be traced back to Leonardo da Vinci’s “The Function of the  Eye, As Explained by the Camera Obscura” (circa 1520), 17–18; or to William Henry Fox Talbot’s “Some Account of the Art of Photogenic Drawing” (1839), 38–43; or to Lady Eastlake’s “Photography” (1857), 61–66. See Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 276. Clarence John Laughlin, “Beyond Documentation and Purism,” text accompanying slide set distributed by Light Impressions, Rochester, NY, “Clarence John Laughlin,” produced by Focal Point Press (1977), 1. Clarence John Laughlin, Lost Louisiana: An Essay in the Poetry of Remembrance, unpublished manuscript, begun circa 1973, 27. Manuscripts Division, The Historic New Orleans Collection. Quoted in Nancy C. Barrett, “Brick and Wood and Spirit: The Architectural Photographs of Clarence John Laughlin” in Keith F. Davis, Clarence John Laughlin: Visionary Photographer  (Kansas City, MO: Hallmark Cards, Inc., 1990), 36. Laughlin in Jonathan Williams, Introduction,  Clarence John Laughlin: The Personal Eye (Millerton, NY: Aperture, 1973), 12. Here Laughlin either intentionally drew upon, or unintentionally echoed, the sentiments of American photographer Paul Strand (1890–1976). In 1922, when responding to the Italian philosopher Benedetto Croce’s earlier criticisms of photography, Strand argued: “Signor Croce is speaking of the shortcomings of photographers and not of photography.” See Strand’s “Photography and the New God” (1922), in Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 126–29, quote on p. 129. Frederick Sommer, “Extemporaneous Talk,”  Aperture  (1971), unp., cited in Leland Rice, “Introduction,” in  Frederick Sommer at Seventy-Five: A Retrospective  (Long Beach, CA: The Art Museum and Galleries, California State University, 1980), 13.

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13 Sommer, “Extemporaneous Talk,” 13.

28 www.kicken-gallery.com/steinert/pm_e.txt

14 For more on this topic, including Sommer’s relation-

29 The Family of Man created by Edward Steichen, prologue

ship with Edward Weston and Ansel Adams, see Robin Kelsey, “Frederick Sommer Decomposes Our Nature,” in Photography and the Art of Chance (Cambridge, MA: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 2015), 214–48. “Art and the Subconscious: The Multi-Negative Photography of Vladimir Telberg-von-Teleheim,” American Artist, vol. 13, no. 1 ( January 1949), 60. “Composite Photography by Val Telberg,”  American Artist, vol. 18, no. 2 (February 1954), 47. White’s opening poem from 1946 in his first major photographic sequence, Amputations, 1947, as published in White’s book, Mirrors, Messages, Manifestations (Millerton, NY: Aperture, 1969), 33. Minor White, Mirrors, Messages, Manifestations (Millerton, NY: Aperture, 1969), 186. Minor White, “Equivalence: The Perennial Trend,” [1963], in Nathan Lyons, ed., Photographers on Photography  (Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice Hall, Inc., 1966), 173; also reprinted in Hershberger, ed.,  Photographic Theory, 205. Minor White, “Extended Perception through Photography and Suggestion,” in Herbert Otto and John Mann, eds., Ways of Growth (New York: Grossman, 1968), 35. Wall label from Sequence 13—Return to the Bud, curated by Walter Chappell during the spring of 1959 at George Eastman House, Rochester, NY. Minor White, “The Camera Mind and Eye,” (1952) in Lyons, ed., Photographers on Photography, 166. Harry Callahan, “An Adventure in Photography,”  Minicam Photography, vol. 9, no. 6, 28–29. Reprinted in Lyons, ed.,  Photographers on Photography, 40–41. From a taped conversation between Callahan and John Szarkowski (April 1975, Providence). Tapes located in MoMA’s Department of Photography. Cited in John Szarkowski, Callahan (Millerton, NY: Aperture, 1976), 16–17. Letter from Harry Callahan to Ann Armstrong (February 19, 1947). Files of the Department of Photography, MoMA. Cited in ibid., 17. Harry Callahan, statement on  Photographs: Harry Callahan  (Santa Barbara, CA: El Mochuelo Gallery, 1964). Aaron Siskind, “Thoughts and Reflections,” interview in Afterimage, vol. no. 6 (March 1973).

by Carl Sandburg (New York: The Museum of Modern Art, 1955). Steichen claimed that he, Wayne Miller (photographer), and Paul Rudolph (architect) looked at more than two million images before designing the exhibition. Ibid. Edward Steichen, introduction, 4. The book, with more than 300,000 copies sold, is MoMA’s best selling publication of all time. The proceeds from the book’s sales endowed an acquisition fund that has allowed MoMA to purchase more than 700 works. Jacob Deschin, “Panoramic Show at The Museum of Modern Art,”  The NewYork Times, January 30, 1955. Cited in John Szarkowski, Mirrors and Windows: American Photography since 1960  (New York: The Museum of Modern Art, 1978), 16. For an interesting comparison of the  Family of Man  with a 2002 U.S. State Department-sponsored show of Joel Meyerowitz’s photographs,  After September 11: Images from Ground Zero, see Liam Kennedy, “Remembering September 11: Photography as Cultural Diplomacy” (2003), in Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 415–20. Interview with Wynn Bullock, in Hill and Cooper, Dialogue with Photography, 331. See Blake Stimson, “Photographic Being and The Family of Man” in The Pivot of the World: Photography and Its Nation (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 2006), 59–103. Steichen, along with Walker Evans, Alexey Brodovitch, Alexander Liberman of Condé Nast, and art historian Meyer Shapiro: all were listed on Frank’s application as supporting his project. Jean-Paul Sartre,  The Age of Reason  (1945),  The Reprieve  (1945), and  Troubled Sleep  (1949). Frank said: “I read all the early books by Sartre, the Roads to Freedom novels. It helped me, it strengthened my determination.” In William S. Johnson, “The Pictures Are a Necessity: Robert Frank in Rochester, NY, November 1988,”  Rochester Film & Photo Consortium Occasional Papers, No. 2, January 1989 (Rochester, NY: George Eastman House), 27. Ibid., 30. Eugenia Parry Janis and Wendy MacNeil, eds., Photography Within the Humanities  (Danbury, NH: Addison House Publishers, 1977), 56. Jack Kerouac,”Introduction,” The Americans: Photographs by Robert Frank (New York: Grove Press, 1959), unp.

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“An Off-Beat View of the U.S.A.,” Popular Photography, vol. 46, no. 5 (May 1960), 104–6. Robert Frank quoted in Sarah Greenough, Philip Brookman et al., Robert Frank: Moving Out (Washington, D.C.: National Gallery of Art, 1994), 54. Du, vol. 22, no. 1 ( January 1962), unp. A jury at photokina 1963, an international photographic exhibition and trade fair held about every two years in Cologne, Germany, voted Klein one of the thirty most important photographers in the medium’s history, yet he was not even listed in the index of Newhall’s final edition of The History of Photography. William Klein, in Jane Livingston, The New York School Photographs 1936–1963 (New York: Stewart, Tabori & Chang, 1992), 314. For foundational and critical texts on the idea of the “decisive moment,” in Hershberger, ed.,  Photographic Theory, see Henri Cartier-Bresson, “Introduction” to The Decisive Moment  (1952), 188–91; Aphrodite Désirée Navab, “Re-Picturing Photography: A Language in the Making” (2001), 365–69; and Robin Kelsey, “Of Fish, Birds, Cats, Mice, Spiders, Flies, Pigs, and Chimpanzees: How Chance Casts the Historic Action Photograph into Doubt” (2009), History and Theory, vol. 48, no. 4 (2009), 384–88. Cited in Jerry Mason, ed.,  The International Center of Photography Encyclopedia of Photography  (New York: Crown Publishers, 1984), 282. Klein, in Livingston, New York School Photographs, 314. Cited by Jonathan Green,  American Photography: A Critical History 1945 to the Present  (New York: Harry Abrams Publishers, 1984), 216. For more information on these and other Klein films, see Katherine Dieckmann, “Raging Bill,”  Art in America (December 1990), 71, 73, 75, 77, 79. See William Klein,  In and Out of Fashion: William Klein (New York: Random House, 1994). Cited by Stephen Brigidi and Claire V. C. Peeps, Introduction, “Mario Giacomelli,”  Untitled 32  (Carmel, CA: The Friends of Photography, 1983), 9. See Henry Holmes Smith interview in Hill and Cooper, Dialogue with Photography, 132–59. Henry Holmes Smith,  Portfolio #2, Henry Holmes Smith (Louisville, KY: Center for Photographic Studies, 1972), unp. Ibid. Ibid. See Henry Holmes Smith interview in John

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Bloom, Photography At Bay (Albuquerque, NM: University of New Mexico Press, 1993), 207–8. For more on this era and its impact upon the history of photography, see Robert Hirsch,  Transformational Imagemaking: Handmade Photography Since 1960 (New York and London: Focal Press, 2014). For information and examples about how artists use Polaroid materials see Robert Hirsch,  Exploring Color Photography, 3rd edition (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1997). See: William A. Ewing, Barbara P. Hitchcock, et al., The Polaroid Project: At the Intersection of Art and Technology (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 2017). Richard Hamilton, 1957, cited in Robert Hughes, The Shock of the New  (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1981), 344. Cited ibid., 342. Verifax was a wet-print process developed at Kodak during the 1940s. A disposable paper negative formed a matrix from which a print was made on a specially treated paper. See Marilyn McCray,  Electroworks  (Rochester, NY: George Eastman House, 1979), for information about these copy machine processes. Kabbalah is based on the belief that every accent, letter, number, and word of the Scriptures contains mysteries. Kabbalistic signs and writing are used as amulets and in magical practice. Robert Doisneau in Hill and Cooper, Dialogue with Photography, 108. Looking back over the entire history of photography from the digital era, Ellen Handy has argued that “Photography’s low-down, lying, deceptive ways have been so well known for so long that we can only address this problem by recognizing that the plausibility of the media is an issue of social trust more than of imaging technique.” See Handy’s “Fixing the Art of Digital Photography: Electronic Shadows” (1998), in Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 344–49, esp. p. 347. Life appeared as a weekly until 1972, then as an intermittent “special” until 1978; a monthly from 1978 to 2000; and a weekly newspaper supplement from 2004 to 2007 before ceasing once again with the issue dated April 20, 2007. It continues as a brand name on the Internet and with occasional special print issues. See Helen Gee, Limelight: A Greenwich Village Photography Gallery and Coffeehouse in the Fifties (Albuquerque, NM: University of New Mexico Press, 1997).

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68 In 1956, poet/publisher Lawrence Ferlinghetti’s City

76 See Dave Hickey,  The Invisible Dragon: Four Essays on

Lights Bookstore in San Francisco was raided and Allen Ginsberg’s Howl was seized and declared obscene. A trial exonerated  Howl  and its accompanying publicity gave the Beat writers national attention, resulting in the publication of Jack Kerouac’s  On the Road. For details, see Barry Miles, Ginsberg: A Biography (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1989). See Peter Galassi, Roy DeCarava: A Retrospective (New York: The Museum of Modern Art, 1996), 22–23, 269–70. In Brown v. Board of Education of Topeka, Kansas (1954) Chief Justice Earl Warren moved to protect the rights of minorities by outlawing public school segregation. Ibid. See Anthony Barboza and Herb Robinson, eds., Timeless: Photographs by Kamoinge  (Atglen, PA: Schiffer Publishing) 2015. Andrew Dickson, “Roy DeCarava’s stunning photos of jazz greats,” in BBC Culture, October 24, 2019, www.bbc.com/culture/article/20191023-roy-decaravas-stunning-photos-of-jazz-greats Porter, Place No One Knew, 8. The Sierra Club is a United States environmental organization. It was founded in 1892 in San Francisco, California, by the Scottish-American preservationist John Muir, who was its first president.

Beauty (Los Angeles, CA: Art Issues Press, 1993). Hickey’s “The Invisible Dragon: On Beauty I” (1991), has been reprinted in Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 390–93. Eliot Porter, The Place No One Knew: Glen Canyon on the Colorado, abridged, David Brower, ed. (San Francisco, CA: Sierra Club and New York: Ballantine Books, 1968), 14. Paul Caponigro,  Landscape  (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1975), unp. Time has given Nikita Khrushchev’s famous provocation to the West, “We will bury you,” a previously unimaginable twist to history as his son, Cold War scholar Sergei N. Khrushchev, became a United States citizen in 1999. Todd Gitlin,  The Sixties: Years of Hope, Days of Rage  (New York: Bantam Doubleday Dell Publishing, 1987), 22–23. Richard Rhodes,  Arsenals of Folly: The Making of the Nuclear Arms Race (New York: Knopf, 2007).

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CHAPTER SIXTEEN

New Frontiers: Expanding Boundaries

THE RISE OF THEORY: STRUCTURALISM AND READING A PHOTO GRAPH

In the arts people were discarding the idea that photographs provided direct pictures of the world. They replaced that idea with the concept that photography had its own morphology that intervened between reality and the viewer. In the 1950s, French semiotician and structuralist (see Structuralism below) Roland Barthes (1915–1980) decoded the formal relations of signs to one another (syntax) and the symbolic logic of photography for the purpose of cultural analysis. Based on the work of American philosopher Charles Sanders Peirce (1839–1914) and Swiss linguist Ferdinand de Saussure (1857– 1913), semiotics is the study of how meaning is constructed and understood. Semioticians maintain that the relation of words to things is not natural but assigned by society, and that language is basically a self-contained system of signs made up of two components, the “signifier” and the “signified.” The signifier is the word itself that people use to define the material world around them. The signified represents the mental associations we have with a particular word, which may or may not be conscious, but are affected by our culture. Semioticians analyze these mental associations to understand how a society creates meaning and to find hidden/ underlying meaning(s). Semioticians do not limit their practice to language; instead, they stress that any aspect of a culture, such as a photograph, can communicate meaning and thus function and be

The 1960s was a decade of cultural, economic, and political upheaval that challenged American societal values. At age 43, John F. Kennedy became a young United States president and he invited artists, musicians, and poets, such as Robert Frost, to White House events. After two terms of Dwight Eisenhower’s presidency (1953–1961), Kennedy brought a new sense of vitality to the nation as he declared a “New Frontier” of social reform that included aid to education, medical care for the aged, the extension of civil rights, the formation of the Peace Corps, a physical fitness program, and a proposal to land a man on the moon. This progressive social agenda was juxtaposed with an aggressive foreign policy that included the abortive Bay of Pigs invasion of Cuba in 1961, the Cuban Missile Crisis of 1962 that brought the United States and the former Soviet Union to the brink of nuclear war, and an increased number of U.S. military advisors in South Vietnam. When astronaut Neil Armstrong walked on the moon (1969), some claimed it was a conspiracy and that NASA had staged the event in a secret airplane hangar in Houston. The bottom line was: Surface appearances could not be trusted.

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analyzed as a sign. Semiotics has provided the historical foundation for modern structuralism. Barthes wrote, “Photography crushes all other images by its tyranny.”1  Of the United States, he observed, “Everything is transformed into images: Only images exist and are produced and consumed … and [this] de-realizes the human world of conflicts and desires under cover of illustrating it.”2  This was a revelation compared to Vance Packard’s  Hidden Persuaders  (1957), an exposé about concealed advertising practices, which never discussed the persuasive role of photography in a consumer society. Surveying the scene, photographer Henry Holmes Smith wrote: “Before I can make any estimate of photography’s present state and future prospects, I need to know what a photograph should look like and I am not at all certain that I do.”3  What had been sanctioned was now under scrutiny. Against a Stieglitzian framework of straight photographers canonized by Newhall in his seminal The History of Photography, debates opened over craftsmanship (the fine-print aesthetic and the proper use of materials), formal concerns (compositional construction), social duty (the depiction of beautiful and spiritually ennobling subjects), and just what a photograph could mean. Was a photograph a witness to history or an equivalent to an inner vision? Was its meaning determined by its maker, or by an editor, or was meaning entirely free floating? And lastly, could various individuals read the same photograph and ascribe different meanings to it based on their own life experiences or do museums hold the final word on interpretation?4 The notion that one could read a photograph was given currency by photographers Henry Holmes Smith and Robert Forth and endorsed by Minor White. Its foundations can be traced to Ferdinand de Saussure, who established a structural study of language that emphasized the arbitrary relationship of the linguistic sign, signifier, or code to what it signifies and therefore to how meaning is determined. Like semiotics, structuralism attempts

to understand the relationship between signs and cultural meanings. Structuralism expanded upon semiotics by positing that no single element, or sign, has meaning in itself, but must be understood as an integrated part of a society’s fundamental organization. Structuralists think that meaning is determined by establishing how one sign relates to another sign. For structuralists, therefore, photographs do not exist in isolation but are a part of a complex cultural structure of signs, a structure filled with enigmatic messages, which must be analyzed for their meaning based on the experiences of the photographer and the viewer. Structural theory gave hope for understanding a seemingly chaotic atomic world that saw Newton’s unified mechanical universe crumble into the physics of Einstein’s invisible particles. Coupled with existentialism, in which individuals determine meaning, Structuralism offered tactics for refitting the pieces of the world and making it whole again. In the late 1950s, Noam Chomsky (b. 1928), an American linguist, revolutionized the study of language with his theory that innate structures, not sounds, are the basis for speech. This idea that inherent, unconscious structures might serve as the foundation of understanding started philosophers and artists searching for the hidden structures that shaped meaning. In photography, such doctrines questioned the trustworthiness of the singular, modernist construct of the “thing itself ” (as advocated by Edward Weston and MoMA photography curator John Szarkowski among others). Photographers began to pay attention to the overall context of their work. The result was a loss of belief in the approach of Karl Blossfeldt and Edward Weston that subjects could be better comprehended when they were isolated and removed from their surroundings. During the 1960s, Chomsky accused the media of conspiring to suppress information vital to the understanding of America’s involvement in the Vietnam War and to massage the information it

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THE FOUND IMAGE : THE BEGINNINGS OF POSTMODERNISM

shared into a misleading and consumable format. Chomsky believed in the ideal of an informed, democratic society freely arriving at decisions, and he pointed out that images are not neutral containers and thus people must actively ferret out their meaning. If the “thing itself ” could no longer be trusted to supply an accurate and complete meaning, then photographers had to devise new ways of making images that offered insight into the world. In turn, viewers were asked not to passively accept any image or statement about it on face value, but to take responsibility for deducing their own meaning. Throughout the 1950s, exhibitions like Steichen’s  The Family of Man  (see Chapter 15) reinforced the general belief that photography was exempt from these “hidden persuaders” that molded meaning. By the early 1960s photographers began to question whether photography was a universal language,5  or whether outside influences, like its surrounding context and viewer subjectivity, determined reality and hence photographic meaning. Around this time, George Eastman House curator Nathan Lyons wrote:

Cultural critic and essayist Walter Benjamin observed that one consequence of photomechanical reproduction was the disturbance of authenticity and originality, which diminished the aura of an original work. Benjamin maintained that even the most perfect reproduction of a work of art is lacking in one key element: its unique presence in the time and space it occupies. As a result of the growing domination of the photographic image, many modernist twentieth-century artists expanded the definitions of their media. The new definition toppled the established importance of the subject matter itself and the “correct” use of materials for making pictures. Although artists like Pablo Picasso often were silent concerning their direct use of photographs, both the detailed information and the way it was “automatically given” by photography was now invading artistic vocabularies.7 In 1955,  Robert Rauschenberg  (1925–2008) began to exhibit “combines” of painting and sculpture that incorporated seemingly discordant and incompatible items, such as stuffed animals, photographs, and photomechanical reproductions. In what the critic Lawrence Alloway labeled “an aesthetic of heterogeneity,”8  Rauschenberg constructed work of dissimilar parts, excerpted directly from popular culture and filled with contradictions that left the origins of his source materials open and available for public inspection. Art historian Leo Steinberg regarded Rauschenberg’s “tilt of the picture plane from vertical to horizontal [a flatbed picture plane] as expressive of the most radical shift in the subject matter of art, the shift from nature to culture.”9 Rauschenberg had been making photographs since his student days at the Bauhaus-émigré outpost of Black Mountain College in North Carolina, where he worked with color abstractionist Josef

If we are to confront the meaning of contemporary photographic expression … then let us establish a working premise by asking: Was a pepper to Edward Weston or a photogram to Moholy-Nagy less real than a breadline to Dorothea Lange? … Our discourse concerning this matter has fragmented the photographic community into reverently biased schools of thought, and by doing so has retarded a much needed dialogue concerning ideas which are essential to an understanding of photographic expression.6

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Albers (1888–1976) and chance operations composer John Cage (1912–1992).10 By the early 1960s, Rauschenberg had abandoned Abstract Expressionism and instead utilized transfer processes to overlap found images and/or his own photographs onto his canvases, which also united lithography and silkscreen. This new use of materials and subject matter reflected his belief that “Painting relates to both art and life. Neither can be made. (I try to act in that gap between the two).”11 Rauschenberg, like Robert Frank, used readymade vernacular sources, like tires and diners from American automobile culture, to create motifs and push the content of high art to include mass communication, politics, and technology. Rauschenberg’s embrace of the photographic sensibility, in terms of content, style, and technique, and as a working photographer himself, meant his painting had to be reconsidered in terms of printing. The critic Douglas Crimp wrote: Rauschenberg had moved definitively from techniques of production  (combines, assemblages)  to techniques of reproduction (silkscreens, transfer drawings). And it is this move that requires us to think of Rauschenberg’s art as postmodernist. Through reproductive technology postmodernist art dispenses with aura. The fantasy of the created subject gives way to the frank confiscation, quotation, excerptation, accumulation, and repetition of already existing images. Notions of originality, authenticity, and presence, essential to the ordered discourse of the museum are undermined.12

© ROBERT RAUSCHENBERG. Retroactive I, 1964. 84 × 60 inches. Silkscreen print with oil on canvas. Robert Rauschenberg stated: “The artist’s job is to be a witness to his time in history.”13 He also commented on the driving potency behind his work: “People ask me, ‘Don’t you ever run out of ideas?’ Well, in the first place, I don’t use ideas. Every time I have an idea, it’s too limiting and usually turns out to be a disappointment. But I haven’t run out of curiosity.”14 COURTESY  Wadsworth Atheneum Museum of Art, Hartford, CT. Gift of Susan Morse

This way of working was antithetical to the popular and modernistic definition of photography as the supplier of an ordered, unbroken view of reality, one comprising single moments. Rauschenberg saw the world as a camera saw it, selecting, extracting, and assembling the visual information that was already there. This method of thinking exemplified Duchamp’s belief that creation is about decision making, that a photographer is not simply one who makes photographs but is one who thinks and works with photographs.

Hilles. Art © Robert Rauschenberg Foundation. Susie Brooks, Pop Art (North Mankato, MN: Compass Pint Books, 2019) 35.

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THE RISE OF POP ART During the 1960s, Assemblage, Conceptual Art, Environmental Art, Minimalism, Op Art, Pop Art, and Photo-Realism movements explored form, syntax, and style, demonstrating the struggle in the art world between the painterly and the photographic. This also tied into the emerging “Camp” sensibility, a major attitude adjustment that was taking place in the early 1960s toward art and societal customs in general. This new sensibility, thinker Susan Sontag wrote, “converts the serious into the frivolous” and “sees everything in quotation marks” plus “incarnates a victory of style over content.”15  This stance of ironic detachment and irreverence was evident in works of artists like Andy Warhol and Claes Oldenburg. The ubiquitous nature of photography and its ability to deliver fresh forms of representation provoked new attitudes, forms, iconographies, and strategies among practitioners. Artists adopted new aesthetics and attitudes, incorporating photographic mannerisms and processes into their projects, and they directly placed photographs into their work. Pop art rejected the conventions of painting and turned to photography for its images and “style.” Artists like Andy Warhol, James Rosenquist, and Tom Wesselmann incorporated widely circulated commercial images,  including advertising photographs, pictures of celebrities, news photos, and postcards, to overwrite artists’ handwork and make widely recognizable consumer-based subject matter from soup cans to comic strips supreme. In addition, the social rage produced by race riots, the Vietnam War, and the assassinations of John F. Kennedy (1963), Malcolm X (1965), Martin Luther King, Jr. (1968), and Robert F. Kennedy (1968) resurrected the notion of the doomed outsider, who is not widely accepted by society and is likely to meet an unfortunate end. Yet within the alternative community there remained a sense that anything was possible. At the suggestion of the British-Canadian

© WILLIAM S. BURROUGHS and BRION GYSIN. Untitled [Projection Performance], circa 1965. 9 7⁄8 x 7 1⁄8 inches. Gelatin silver prints and ink on paper. The hieroglyph exemplifies Burroughs’s challenge to the classical narrative structure. Burroughs insists that “The study of hieroglyphic languages shows us that a word is an image … [and] written work is an image.”16 Burroughs and Gysin were fascinated by the capacity of images to mutate and replicate, like viruses within the “social body,” and how this phenomenon could be used to defy society’s authority and conventions. COURTESY  Los Angeles County Museum of Art. Purchased with funds

provided by the Hiro Yamagata Foundation.

artist Brion Gysin (1916–1986), the experimental beat writer  William S. Burroughs  (1914–1997), whose Naked Lunch (1959/1965) was ruled obscene in Massachusetts for its open depiction of homosexuality and drugs, applied dadaist montage methods to his writings. In The Ticket That Exploded (1962),

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Burroughs cut-up and rearranged texts to free his work from cognitive processes and linear time. Cut-ups (like Rauschenberg’s “combines” and collages) allowed Burroughs to fantasize a hallucinatory universe made up of a mosaic of voices in which society’s familiar rules no longer applied, a universe in which anything could happen because “Nothing is True” and “Everything is Permitted.”17 Around 1965, Burroughs and Gysin collaborated on collages of hieroglyphs and photographs placed over an irregular grid, presenting their view that reality was not singular or holistic but a dynamic system of local, interdependent perceptions.18  The duo defied the narrative construct by overloading the page with text and images that multiplied to the margins of the irrational. This procedure of intentional discombobulation also acknowledged that once an image gets into circulation it takes on a life of its own, whose course cannot be commanded or foretold. Andy Warhol’s (1928–1987) acceptance and use of commodity images from advertising, magazines, and newspapers came to symbolize pop art. Warhol at first painted his  Campbell’s Soup Cans  (1962) by hand, but by the end of 1962 he had switched to the commercial printing technology of the photosilkscreen to make multiples by mechanical means. His  Disaster Paintings  (1963), covering tragedies like a plane crash and President Kennedy’s assassination, offered an alternative to the romantic modernism of Abstract Expressionism, aligning Warhol with photography by appropriating sensational news photos, enlarging them, repeating them, and then adding flat fields of color.19  Warhol demolished the photographs’ original context and distanced viewers from any sense of loss or horror, leaving them as uninvolved spectators. The technique reflects on psychiatrist R. D. Laing’s observations in  The Divided Self  (1959) in which he portrayed the schizophrenic (the “mad” person) as an outsider, estranged from him/herself, in a society that he or she could not accept as real. As

Charlie Chaplin had done earlier in his film Modern Times  (1936), Warhol announced that he wanted “to be a machine,” declared his own estrangement from society, and proceeded to use photography to extract repetitious images from popular culture.20 Whether it was soup cans, a car crash, or the electric chair, Warhol was obsessively devoted to the static, surface sameness and banality of a mass-produced commodity, and his work sparked debate on the effects of technology on society. Going against high art standards of the time, Warhol claimed: If you want to know about Andy Warhol, just look at the surface of my painting, films, and me, and there I am. There is nothing behind it.21

His early plotless, single-action films—such as  Sleep  and  Empire  (1963)—were ceaseless exercises in camera passivity and detachment: a hands-off spectator who kept the world at bay through the filter of photography. In  Sleep  the camera remained fixed on a sleeping man for eight hours, while Empire consisted of a seemingly endless shot of the Empire State Building. Warhol’s studio, aptly named “The Factory,” did not create fine art in the tradition that stretches back to Renaissance Florence as much as it manufactured products. Warhol, formerly a commercial illustrator, celebrated capitalism and commerce, making fashion and promotion the means to their own ends, granting greater importance to perception than to the means of artistic production. Art was commerce and the artist a businessman who, with the right spin, could sell anything. Warhol replaced the avant-garde stance of the new with a stance based on fickle fashions of popular culture. Every person, every work of art, would be “famous for fifteen minutes,” in Warhol’s words. A Warhol piece could be glanced at like a television screen, as authenticity was replaced by artifice. Second-handedness became a virtue. Warhol treated Mao Tse-tung, Marilyn Monroe, and Mickey Mouse with the same

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ANDY WARHOL. Marilyn (detail, left hand side), 1964. 80.88 × 114.00 inches (complete set). Silkscreens. © 2024 The Andy Warhol Foundation for the Visual Arts, Inc./Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York, NY.

reverence, demonstrating how meaning can reside in the eyes of the beholder. If one Elvis Presley was good, then multiple Elvises were even better. Such restless trend-surfing provided evidence that the cultural scales balancing the past and present, guided by what T. S. Eliot called the “presence of the past,” had shifted, making the past only a burden to be rid of rather than a provider of cultural context. The avant-garde prophecy that tradition would kill the conventional subjects and materials of fine highbrow art making and viewing became self-fulfilling in a way quite different than the avant-gardists had intended. Warhol’s use of photographic repetition reinforced his position of not placing himself above his audience. He stated:

What’s great about America is that it started the tradition where the richest consumers buy essentially the same things as the poorest. You can be watching TV and see Coca-Cola, and you know that the president drinks Coke, Liz Taylor drinks Coke, and just think, you can drink Coke, too. A Coke is Coke and no amount of money is going to get you a  better Coke than the one the bum on the corner is drinking. All the Cokes are the same and all the Cokes are good. Liz Taylor knows it, the president knows it, the bum knows it, and you know it.22

Canadian media analyst Marshall McLuhan (1911–1980) provided a philosophical base for discussing the pivotal themes facing photography in the

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1960s with his book, Understanding Media (1964). In a chapter called “The Medium Is the Message,” McLuhan stressed that new technology gradually creates a dynamic environment grounded in its own processes. He wrote:

photograph is neither verbal nor syntactical, a condition which renders literary culture quite helpless to cope with the photograph.25

Rather than evaluating a photograph by a literary standard, understanding it semiotically through what it “says” in a complex system of sign and reference, McLuhan wanted a photograph to be understood via its own characteristics. McLuhan recognized the fundamental confrontations between literary and visual culture and the flaws inherent in imposing a verbal and/or ideological framework on visual information. Cultural critics, whether academic, political or religious, often project their “correct” views of an image, denying the possibility of understanding an image on other levels. Such critical filters tend to distrust photography’s democracy and assume positions that value a work in terms of ideology and language, placing a literary model above a visual one. This removes the prospect of the average person formulating their own understanding without guidance from the experts. It also denies the pleasure of approximation, even if it results in a different interpretation than that of the maker, thereby widening the work’s meaning.

The electric light is pure information. It is a medium without a message… This fact, characteristic of all media, means that the “content” of any medium is always another medium. The content of writing is speech, just as the written word is the content of print, and print the content of the telegraph … the message of any medium or technology is the change of scale or pace or pattern it introduces into human affairs… Whether the light is being used for brain surgery or night baseball is a matter of indifference … “the medium is the message” because it controls the scale and form of human association and action.23

McLuhan noted that “camera[s] tend to turn people into things, and the photograph extends and multiplies the human image to the proportions of mass-produced merchandise.”24 The quantity (repetition) of information being delivered became more important than its quality. The contemplation of this overload of electronic information was replacing creativity. The pop artists’ mesmerization with this sensibility sent a message to the public that art and artists no longer shared any responsibility for explaining the incomprehensible, for unmasking frauds, or for acting as a compass for morals or taste, because it made no difference what art said. Numerous artists and critics felt that understanding could only be achieved through verbal narration. McLuhan did not share this view.

CHALLENGING THE CODE In the 1960s photographers began to contest the accepted and popular code of direct optical and chemical imaging. Art Sinsabaugh (1924–1983), a graduate of Chicago’s Institute of Design, created a series in the early 1960s using a 12 × 20-inch banquet camera to make long horizontal landscapes. Although he still relied on an archeological approach, making highly detailed, exquisitely seen, frieze-like compositions, Sinsabaugh discovered a somber way of looking at the landscape.

Education is ideally civil defense against media fall-out. Yet Western man has had, so far, no education or equipment for meeting any of the new media on their own terms. Literate man is not only numb and vague in the presence of film or photo, but he intensifies his ineptness by a defensive arrogance and condescension to “pop kulch” and “mass entertainment” … But the logic of the

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© ART SINSABAUGH. Chicago Landscape #151 from Chicago Landscape Group, 1964, 10 7⁄8 x 19½ inches. Gelatin silver print. Working with a large format banquet camera enabled Sinsabaugh to expose 20 x 20 inch sheet film, producing highly detailed, ribbon-like panoramas capable of disclosing more than the human eye can take in. The banquet camera empowered Sinsabaugh’s explorations into the relationship between human constructions and nature, capturing the American Midwest’s wide horizons featuring farm dwellings, grain silos, and telegraph poles in a single vista. COURTESY

Howard Greenberg Gallery, New York.

Syl Labrot  (1929–1977) investigated ways of cracking the codes of representation at the crossroads of painting, printmaking, and photography in order to uncover opportunities for joining these three media together. Labrot explored subjects in a manner that would not be possible with photography alone. He was interested in picturing a subjective, inner world of emotional states, as opposed to replicating the exterior world. His immersion in abstract expressionism and  color field  painting—whose large, abstract areas of unmodulated color rejected illusions of visual depth and expressive gestural brushwork as typified by painters Morris Louis and Helen Frankenthaler—led Labrot to investigate the dye transfer process in the late 1950s. These experiments reveal the inclination of photographers to expand the monochromatic palette and break color free from its pejorative commercial associations. Labrot used the graphic qualities of printmaking to transform his images. His method of extracting details, simplifying a subject down to just color and texture, and layering striking hues that do not resemble the effects of the paintbrush, demonstrates how photography can also address an inner spirit. The sensuous, colored, photo-based surface

As a boy, Sinsabaugh had photographed with an 8mm movie camera, and his later panoramic images retain a cinematic sense of extending time and the field of view. The empty spaces in many of these unsentimental compositions foreshadow the “new topographics” landscape photography of the 1970s and 1980s, an approach that emphasized “stylistic anonymity” or a “passive frame,” as we will see.26 Sinsabaugh’s detached and unromantic images describe the low ground of the American prairie, revealing its sparseness and the severity of its beauty. They also divulge an abrupt and discordant human presence against an empty sky and endless horizon. As a teacher on the cusp of a shift in photographic practice, Sinsabaugh foreshadowed the coming resurgence of interest in obsolete historic processes: Today can and should be the time for those interested in the visual images possible through photography to advance the quality of this imagery by turning back to the techniques of the past… I appeal for a critical reevaluation of the discarded techniques of photography to enhance the images of the future.27

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SYL LABROT. Untitled, from the portfolio: Ten Synthetic Landscapes, 1972. 18 3⁄16 x 22 5⁄16 inches. Color serigraph. Seeing Andy Warhol’s and Robert Rauschenberg’s radical use of photography inspired Labrot to experiment with screen printing. This led him to produce Pleasure Beach, a strikingly unique, hand-pulled artist book that was hand printed at the Visual Studies Workshop Press, where he was teaching. Previously, Labrot had co-edited and published Under the Sun: The Abstract Art of Camera Vision (1960), with Walter Chappell and Nathan Lyons who declared: “The eye and the camera sees more than the mind knows.”28 © Syl Labrot Estate. COURTESY  Visual Studies Workshop, Rochester, NY.

of Labrot’s fictionalized  Synthetic Landscape  series, as seen in his artist’s book  Pleasure Beach  (1976), visually evokes territory similar, metaphysically, to that of the Argentine writer Jorge Luis Borges (1899–1986), whose genre-bending works, a herald of postmodern literature, intrigued the artist. Labrot’s imaginary landscapes blend fantasy, myth,

and symbolism, distancing themselves from familiar environments, to reflectively question destiny and time. If Labrot perceived life as a Jorge Luis Borgesian labyrinth of Magical Realism, he saw his process as his way of describing life’s fantastical and random outcomes.

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THE SO CIAL LANDSCAPE

at George Eastman House, Szarkowski’s New Documents  (1967) at MoMA, and  12 Photographers of the American Social Landscape  (1967), curated by Thomas H. Garver, with assistance from Szarkowski, at Brandeis University. These shows introduced a number of imagemakers who were repudiating formal, modernist expectations about how the photograph should look and what it should picture. This disavowal of formal qualities helped launch a movement based on the casual and unconventional vocabulary of the snapshot, as seen in the early work of Lee Friedlander, Garry Winogrand, Danny Lyon, Duane Michals, and Bruce Davidson. Such photographers were refining a gut-level response to their subjects that would clarify, but not define, life as they found it. Their approach, to work out new “authentic photographic forms,”31  based on the snapshot, incorporated the diverse traditions of art and documentary photography. Coined as the  snapshot aesthetic, it referenced the style of  cinema vérité, or direct cinema, a filmmaking method that dispensed with directorial control and previsualization techniques.32 Many photographers considered the label a contradiction in terms: since snapshooters generally ignore artistic conventions, it meant an aesthetic of nonaesthetics. For many photographers the preferred designation was  social landscape, which referred to scenes based on the instantaneity and interconnectedness of people to their environment. In his introduction to  Contemporary Photographers: Toward A Social Landscape, Lyons wondered if photographs of natural landscapes should be more highly prized, aesthetically, than man-made landscapes. He suggested that our classical notions of landscape should be reevaluated and expanded to include “a nexus between man and man and man and nature,” forming “the context of a more total landscape.” A photographer whose work radically redefined the social landscape was Garry Winogrand (1928– 1984). Too young to fight the Nazis, Winogrand, a gruff New York Jew, worked out of a manic desire

By the late 1950s, many photographers felt a passionate discontent over a variety of issues. There still lingered a generally unspoken spiritual void, a vast unexplainable emptiness, caused by World War II and the Holocaust/Shoah and the ensuing Cold War. The aftershocks of these events, even on those not affected directly, would cause a group of photographers with Jewish cultural backgrounds to question the rules that make society function. Other artists began to examine what economist John Kenneth Galbraith labeled the  Affluent Society  (1958), an atomic culture where “wealth is the relentless enemy of understanding.”29 This questioning led to a rejection of many photographic precepts, including the medium’s aesthetics, definitions, and subject matter, as well as the role of the photographer. The rising interest in popular culture, vis-à-vis the snapshot, encouraged imagemakers to work with vernacular subjects found in family albums, magazines, and newspapers, and stylistically extend them, as Robert Frank had done, into new aesthetic and communicative purposes. In 1960 and 1961, a lecture series in Rochester, NY, “Photography and the Picture Experience,” opened a discussion on the influence of the snapshot on the syntax of photography that would continue throughout the 1960s. At a George Eastman House conference in 1964, John Szarkowski (1925–2007), director of MoMA’s department of photography from 1962 to 1991, gave a presentation on vernacular imagery. It was informed by John A. Kouwenhoven’s Made in America (1948), which examines the conflict between the “cultivated” effect of European art and the “vernacular” style of American technological design. Nathan Lyons presented on the role of the snapshot in contemporary imagemaking.30  The conference resulted in three important exhibitions, Lyons’s Contemporary Photographers: Toward A Social Landscape  (1966)

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to purge himself of trauma by balancing chaos and impending disaster. He accomplished this by challenging assumptions of order, sorting out relationships through the act of photographing. Winogrand used a 35mm camera and a wide-angle lens, not to show more of a subject, but to get closer and more involved in the forces propelling a situation. His statement, “I photograph to find out what something will look like photographed,”33  blasts the Edward Weston system of previsualization. A flâneur of American life in the 1960s, Winogrand built his images on the absence of preconception and theory. He turned familiar incidental occurrences into complex and unsettling environments

capable of subverting suppositions about his subjects. Winogrand’s frequently tilted framing was a radical reimaging of the straight aesthetics and destroyed a viewer’s sense of order. His subjects often appeared to be on the verge of falling out of the frame, infuriating people who accused him of not being able to hold his camera steady. According to Szarkowski, Winogrand “discovered that he could compose his pictures with a freedom that he had not utilized before, and that the tilted frame could not only maintain a kind of discipline over the flamboyant tendencies of the wide-angle lens, but could also intensify his intuitive sense of his picture’s meanings.”34

GARRY WINOGRAND. World’s Fair, New York, 1964. 8 13⁄16 x 13 1⁄8 inches. Gelatin silver print. Winogrand positioned himself not as a critic looking for closure but as an artist who was actively discovering life forces that transform situations. In his Women Are Beautiful Portfolio he stated: “I suspect that I respond to their energies, how they stand and move their bodies and faces. In the end, the photographs are descriptions of poses or attitudes that give an idea, a hint of their energies.”35 © The Estate of Garry Winogrand COURTESY  Fraenkel Gallery, San Francisco, CA.

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Winogrand’s compulsive machine-gun, cinematic approach, always on the verge of anarchy, was a way of discovering what the subject actually was. Between 1978 and 1984, Szarkowski estimated that Winogrand made more than 300,000 exposures he never looked at.36  Szarkowski speculated that Winogrand “photographed whether or not he had anything to photograph, and that he photographed most when he had no subject, in the hope that the act of photographing might lead him to one.”37 This is consistent with Winogrand’s conviction that “there was no special way a photograph should look,” that the compositional components of any photograph were forged by framing a point of view that best described the photographer’s sense of a subject. Szarkowski championed Winogrand’s images as demonstrating his own belief that photography’s power laid in its descriptive and formal characteristics and not in its cerebral reasoning possibilities. In The Photographer’s Eye (1966), Szarkowski named five elements that form a vocabulary and a critical perspective for photography: “The Thing Itself [as in, the actual world], The Detail, The Frame, Time, and Vantage Point.”38  His theoretical construct provided a system for reevaluating photography. Through his MoMA bully pulpit of curating, collecting, and writing, Szarkowski functioned as the most influential tastemaker for a movement of photographers and educators including William Eggleston, Nicholas Nixon, Stephen Shore, Lewis Baltz, Tod Papageorge, and Robert Adams (Szarkowski was criticized for his focus on predominantly male photographers).39 He promoted work that emphasized topographical description and had a minimum of emotional attachment. For Szarkowski, a consummate modernist, form rather than historical context or alternative approaches made pictures intriguing. Szarkowski’s influence was heavily felt for three decades, creating a methodic and sanitary mechanistic climate of straight camera vision which insisted that order and meaning could be imposed on the messiness and unpredictability of life.

Another Szarkowski favorite who could superbly organize and convey the visual chaos and complexity of the urban environment was Lee Friedlander (b. 1934). Working to present his private interpretation of public subjects, such as monuments, Friedlander pushed the narrative dialogue into a discussion of description and observation. His photographic explorations questioned God’s silence during the Holocaust and they led him to favor individual redemption through personal grace and hard work. Friedlander constructed an interior world that was not apparent until it was organized through his camera. The discontinuous urban landscape became raw material for a hybrid, formalized, and personalized aesthetic that reshaped American street photography.40  With sardonic humor, Friedlander ordered fragmented chaos to define not society but his place within society. Like jazz musicians John Coltrane, Miles Davis, Bill Evans, and Thelonius Monk, who used their music to help forge new identities for themselves, Friedlander’s solipsism, his belief that the self is the only object of verifiable knowledge, became the benchmark for photographers examining the inner landscape. Friedlander’s inquiry is summed up in his introduction to the first of his numerous books, Self Portrait (1970): I suspect it is for one’s self-interest that one looks at one’s surroundings and one’s self. This search is personally born and is indeed my reason and motive for making photographs. The camera is not merely a reflecting pool and the photographs are not exactly the mirror, mirror on the wall that speaks with a twisted tongue… The mind-finger presses the release on the silly machine and it stops time and holds what its jaw can encompass and what the light will stain. That moment when the landscape speaks to the observer.41

The urban landscape, as in Lee Friedlander Photographs: Frederick Law Olmsted Landscapes (2008), becomes a framing device, like the camera, that sets the stage for an investigation of the human presence

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© LEE FRIEDLANDER. Philadelphia, 1965. 7 5⁄16 x 11 1⁄8 inches. Gelatin silver print. COURTESY  Fraenkel Gallery, San Francisco, CA.

within its enclosures, juxtapositions, and overlapping realities. The conceptual basis for Friedlander’s metropolis can be linked to Duchamp as his visual radar leads him to readymade sites that contain images of images. Friedlander’s masterful structuralist approach involves an often extremely complex piecing together, a reading of all the interconnected parts and signs to determine meaning. Friedlander uses the reproducibility of the photograph to dismantle the conventional documentary mode of labeling the specifics. People are no longer individuals but are metamorphosed into reproducible forms. Favoring the ordinary, Friedlander does away with hierarchical ordering and makes objects, people, places, and time interchangeable. He forces viewers to search for a lone, human presence, often Friedlander’s shadow, which could be anyone’s shadow, in an isolated landscape from which God is nowhere to be found. The people and ideas that aroused the intense curiosity of  Diane Arbus  (1923–1971) were not to be found in The Family of Man, but on the outer fringes of society that tyrants like Hitler wanted to

eradicate. Arbus, who grew up in an upper-middleclass Jewish family in New York and was educated at the progressive Ethical Culture School, did advertising photographs with her husband, Allan Arbus, for her father’s store. This led to the couple being hired to take fashion pictures for  Harper’s Bazaar. Between 1955 and 1957, Arbus studied privately with Lisette Model, who stressed that “the most mysterious thing is a fact clearly stated.”42 An emerging feminist awareness in the 1960s expanded opportunities for women photographers.43  Arbus’s interest shifted from the studio fashion work to a confronting style that relied on frontal light, often a flash, to sharply depict people who seemed willing to reveal their hidden selves for her 2½-inch square format camera by staring back at her. What Arbus pictured often seemed sensational because she relentlessly broke down public taboos and personas. Arbus unblinkingly pictured people on the margins of society so that their images were no longer about them as individuals, but about them as archetypes of human circumstances. People found her work, like Triplets in Their Bedroom, N.J.

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© DIANE ARBUS. Identical Twins, Roselle, N.J., 1967. Book cover of Diane Arbus: An Aperture Monograph, 1972. 11 x 9½ inches. Photo Offset.

(1963), the cover shot of the New Documents catalog, distressing because the subjects did not fit into the American dream, even if they were outwardly trying to do so. For Arbus, living one’s private life was not enough. A public morality was needed to avoid ending up like those “good Germans” (sympathetic to or acquiescent to the Nazi Party) who had made a horribly clear distinction between who was acceptable and who was not. Arbus pushed the boundaries of what was permissible by heroically visualizing her subjects and then recording them within a snapshot framework. After her suicide in 1971, Arbus’s work developed a cult following, though some critics,

such as Allan Sekula, said that her “fetishistic cultivation”44  of freaks had cruelly sacrificed their humanity. Arbus supporters countered by arguing that being offended is not a valid critique as it can lead to censorship, stating artists need to be able to take on any subject they see fit in their work. This makes it an issue of free speech as photography is a form of not only free speech but freedom of thought and the freedom to express those thoughts. The best rebuke is underscored by Arbus’s favorite Goethe quote: “Every form correctly seen is beautiful.”45  Arbus was known to wear her camera everywhere: “I never take it off.”46 For Arbus the process

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of photographing was the paramount experience and through it she expressed the ambiguities and contradictions of herself and her life. Arbus often got to know her subjects, such as Eddie Carmel, the 495-pound, eight-foot tall “Jewish Giant,” who she photographed for years before making the images she found satisfactory. Arbus believed that “a photograph is a secret about a secret. The more it tells you the less you know.”47 She said that “photographing is not about being comfortable, either for the photographer or the subject” and that “you’ve got to learn not to be

careful.”48 Her portraits are the result of her process of collecting and exchanging secrets that nobody wanted to share. Arbus knew that people did not want to look at what they perceived as a horror, barely covered by a thin layer of human skin. She understood that “Most people go through life dreading they’ll have a traumatic experience. Freaks were born with their trauma. They’ve passed their test in life. They’re aristocrats.”49 Arbus’s final series dealt with mentally challenged people, whose being and identity take us to an edge of human experience. These images contest the definition of self and confront viewers with the secret fact that nobody is “normal.” The pathos in Arbus’s photographs is not that of her subjects but that of putting the viewer off balance. Arbus’s pictures are not about types of freaks but a cataloging of that communal secret of wanting to be “normal” and wanting to be accepted for who we are. The pain that makes viewers avert their eyes is due to the internal violence Arbus’s pictures evoke between the void of our inner self-perception and that of our outer public reality. Arbus said: “I work from awkwardness. By that I mean I don’t like to arrange things. If I stand in front of something, instead of arranging it, I arrange myself.” She also said: “I do feel I have some slight corner on something about the quality of things. I mean it’s very subtle and a little embarrassing to me, but I really believe there are things which nobody would see unless I photographed them.”50 The work of some photographers, such as that of Vivian Dorothy Maier (1926–2009), goes unrecognized during their lifetimes only to be appreciated after their deaths, but without influencing the practice of their time. Maier worked as a nanny for decades while making as many as 150,000 photographs concentrating on urban street life and self-portraits from the early 1950s through the 1980s.51 Only a small number of the images were machine printed in her lifetime. Her work, which was acquired posthumously by three different

© VIVIAN MAIER. Self-Portrait, n/d. Book cover Vivian Maier Developed: The Untold Story of the Photographer Nanny. 9½ x 6½ inches. Photo offset.

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Chicago collectors, became known over the Internet, which led to exhibitions, books, and films.52 Favoring a square, medium-format Rolleiflex, Maier’s images are composed differently and possess more detail than those of most street photographers who relied on a 35mm camera, leading her work to be compared with numerous other street photographers including Weegee, Robert Frank, Lee Friedlander, and Diane Arbus, among others. What distinguishes this self-taught and self-described ‘spy’s’ social landscapes is her working-class empathy with her subjects, featuring children, the elderly, the needy, and women, who are portrayed in a dignified manner. Rarely making more than one exposure of any subject, only making occasional machine prints, and apparently not showing her photographs to other people, the eccentric Maier demonstrates both a consistent confidence in the clarity of her vision and punishing self-doubt. It remains under debate whether Maier was an untutored original or an expert imitator whose street photographic memes have been mythologized for commercial purposes. The extent of this secretive photographer’s obsession remains under debate.53

dialogisms of the essay to stream-of-consciousness, and to use many different kinds simultaneously, or within a relatively short space. to excite the reader both intellectually and emotionally.55

Davidson’s early photo-essays about an old French widow and a circus midget are indicative of his sympathetic representations of those who are not part of mainstream culture. During 1958, Davidson photographed a New York City gang and their rituals—hanging out under the boardwalk, drinking beer, dancing, or combing their hair in the mirror of a cigarette machine, breaking out of a constricting magazine paradigm. He recalled: I took the finished photographs to the editors at Life who looked at them and gave them back to me… I became more aware of the photographs of Robert Frank, who had just published The Americans. In it I saw an America that diminished the dream and replaced it with a piercing truth. It was hard for me to endure those bitter, beautiful photographs, for I had still within me the dream of hope and sympathy… 56

Davidson’s personal involvement with gangs drove him in 1974 to look for the girl he had photographed combing her hair in the Coney Island mirror, to see what had happened to her dream since 1958. Davidson wrote:

NEW JOURNALISM Arbus’s photographs, which often appeared in Esquire,54 were part of a trend toward personal journalism that used the guise of reportage to present a highly subjective view of the world.  Bruce Davidson’s (b. 1933) images, like the “New Journalism” of Tom Wolfe, Hunter Thompson, and Norman Mailer, contain authentic details of people and their situations. Wolf wrote:

She had married the gang leader… Their daughter was fifteen, the same age she was then. She said: “We all had a dream, but we lost it. Most of the kids we knew are on drugs, in crime, or dead. You meant a lot to us because you were someone from the outside who had a camera and was taking pictures of us.” I told her that her picture was hanging in museums around the world. When her teenage daughter came into the room, she turned to her daughter and said, “Look, this is a picture of your momma when she was your age.” Then she turned to me and smiled. “Maybe my dream isn’t quite lost.”57

it was possible to write accurate non-fiction with techniques usually associated with novels and short stories… It was the discovery that it was possible in non-fiction, in journalism, to use any literary device from the traditional

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© BRUCE DAVIDSON. Brooklyn Gang, Coney Island, NY, 1959. Variable dimensions. Gelatin silver print. When asked why he wanted to photograph gang members Davidson said: “I think I was drawn to their life—their depression, their anger. I fit right into that. I was also aware that things could change for them and change for me, because I wasn’t that much older. I was twenty-nine. But I knew those emotions. The fact that they were so needy in seeing themselves.”58 COURTESY  Magnum Photos, New York.

Davidson’s photo-essays, whether of the Los Angeles ghettos (1966), or of Spanish Harlem (East 100th Street, 1970), and of the  Garden Cafeteria  (1976), where many of his subjects were Holocaust survivors, are about perseverance and holding on to dreams. They are the result of an extended involvement that depends on the complicity and trust of his subjects. Like Walker Evans’s sharecropper images from the 1930s, Davidson shows the face of human dignity in the midst of tribulation. But unlike Evans, Davidson’s empathy with many of his subjects provides an intimate sense of what it takes to endure in a hostile world. His photographs are not radical in form, but they are

compelling in their social conscience, reminding us to keep your eyes open to conditions different than our own. In the humanitarian spirit of the 1960s, when the personal became political and activists challenged postwar American institutions and cultural ideals,59 Davidson gave photographic validation to the everyday effects of poverty, disenfranchisement, and loneliness within the urban landscape. Davidson has been criticized as an outsider exploiting marginalized people, but his full tonal range, view camera prints convey a sense that he honestly respects his subjects and, amidst despair, seeks to affirm the diversity of life. The activities of photographers like

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© DANNY LYON. Hoe Sharpener and the Line, Huntsville, TX, 1968. 7 5⁄8 x 11 7⁄16 inches. Gelatin silver print. Lyon made this photograph at a Texas prison for young men ages seventeen to twenty-one. The boss is inspecting the work done by prisoners working in the line. The man in foreground is a hoe sharpener. “The nature of my work is to make a great work of art, which means if you get one frame on a roll of film, you’re happy,” Mr. Lyon said. “One.” Lyon says: “S.N.C.C. is the model for climate activists… It’s the whole way they worked. They targeted impossible areas. They said if we can do this in Mississippi — which would cost them their lives — we will change all of America. And they were right.”60 COURTESY  Magnum Photos, New York.

Davidson demonstrate that the lives of ordinary people are worthy of preservation. His photographs make a case that one does not have to be a member of a particular group to transmit their circumstances. Such “outsiders” provide an opportunity for an initial dialogue, bridging the gap between Them and Us, and they foretell the fact that numerous cultural groups would actively begin to represent their own identities in the closing decades of the twentieth century. In the early 1960s the active desire to directly change the world led to political actions like the Freedom Rides, marches, and sit-ins to end segregation in the U.S. Danny Lyon (b. 1942) was one

of the new journalism photographers in the 1960s who rebelled against the status quo, the values of measured material success, and the passive role of the documentary photographer. Lyon was radicalized by the civil rights movement of the early 1960s and became an official photographer for the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC, pronounced snick), “the movement,” that broke the back of Jim Crow in the American South. Lyon shared an apartment with civil rights activist, SNCC chairman, and future politician John Lewis. As well as with Robert Frank. In 1965, half of Americans over 65 still had no medical insurance; one-third of Americans lived below the poverty line; more than

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90 percent of the Black adults in many southern counties were not registered to vote; nationwide, only 200 Blacks held elected office; and only a third of 3-to-5-year-old children attended nursery school or kindergarten.61  Believing they could change the world, photographers like Lyon did not heed psychedelic  guru Dr. Timothy Leary’s call to “tune in, turn-on, and drop-out” but instead gave up being observers and actively immersed themselves within the situations they were photographing. Their viewpoint shifted from outsider to adopted guest member of a community. They were granted the privilege of making images from a vantage point in which the traditional subject/photographer relationship was jettisoned in favor of a more personal approach. Such relationships set the groundwork for imagemakers from within the groups themselves to take over the task of self-representation that would be the hallmark of politically motivated photography in the 1980s and 1990s and beyond.62 Lyon’s photographs of the early civil rights confrontations and marches resulted in  The Movement  (1964). Some of the conditions Lyon photographed were improved by President Lyndon B. Johnson’s “Great Society” laws dealing with Medicaid benefits, the Voting Rights Act, and federal aid to education. Lyon continued to be a participatory photographer who saw his function as giving form to a subject’s own story. Lyon’s next experience was as “staff photographer” for the Chicago Outlaws motorcycle gang, where he provided form to the subject’s own story that concluded with the publication of Bikeriders (1968). The authenticity of the photographs was evidenced by over forty text pages of the bikers telling their own stories. This active immersion methodology climaxed in  Conversations with the Dead: Photographs of Prison Life with the Letters and Drawings of Billy McCune # 122054  (1971), the result of fourteen months spent photographing inside six Texas prisons. The book and its photographs focused on one prisoner’s story, incorporating his letters and drawings “to explain to the free world

what life in prison is like.”63 Another Lyon project, The Destruction of Lower Manhattan (1969), was a lamentation of a historian who photographed the building eradicated to prep for the World Trade Center site. With its own destruction on September 11, 2001 by the Islamic extremist network al-Qaeda against the United States, the work has become an uncanny witness of double-disappearance.

MULTIPLE POINTS OF VIEW By the mid-1960s people in many levels of society were exploring options contrary to the complacent “business as usual” attitude of “we have done it this way for years, why change now?” Consumer activist Ralph Nader’s (b. 1934) exposé of General Motors,  Unsafe at Any Speed  (1965), had shown that what was good for GM was not necessarily good for America. Nader’s citizen action groups lobbied for consumer, financial, and legal rights, and demonstrated that there were alternatives to habitual practices. At the same time, photographers challenged the cherished notions of photographic standards by intentionally utilizing blurs, double exposures, high-contrast print tonal values, and multiple images and/or sequences. During the mid-1960s,  Duane Michals  (b. 1932) shifted from photographing single enigmatic moments, as in his unpeopled sites of  Empty New York, to invented sequential images that wrestle with inner dramas. His evolution discloses a shift from public to private concerns as well as a changed view regarding how to portray photographic time. The theatrical, time-lapse reality of Michals’s images, informed by the work of surrealist artists René Magritte and Giorgio de Chirico, the visionary poet William Blake, and the magical realist Borges, represents another way of knowing the world. Where Minor White used photographic sequencing

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© DUANE MICHALS. Things Are Queer, 1973. 3 5⁄16 x 5 1⁄16 inches (each image). Gelatin silver prints. Michals believes that diversity of practice is essential, as “everything is a subject for photography including your own fantasies, your own truth, your own desires, your own fears. That’s where you live. You don’t live on the streets looking at people’s faces or looking at sunsets. You live in your mind. And you know your fears more intimately. What I want from you is your secrets. That’s the only thing you can give me: your secrets.”64 COURTESY  DC Moore Gallery, New York.

metaphorically, Michals’s photo-fables and passion plays depended on a narrative format with a beginning, middle, and end. Initially working with a simple 35mm Argus C-3 camera and natural light, Michals’s cinematic mise-en-scène sequences, the arrangement of visual forms and movement within a given space, blend the implausible with the mundane. Inherently photographic means, including lens flare, multiple exposures, and the snapshot, all combine to suggest an unseen, ethereal spirit world. Michals has said: “What I cannot see is infinitely more important

than what I can see.”65 In 1974, he added handwritten text, sometimes in  the first person and other times from an omniscient point of view, to direct the viewer’s response while maintaining a balance and distinction between the words and images he tethered to make a distinct impression. By the early 1980s, Michals was painting directly onto his prints. His blending of media and methods enabled Michals to invent, make visible what would have been invisible in a straight photograph. These experiments in photography, language, and painting allowed him to expand his investigations and their

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metaphysical themes of the psychic, spiritual, and sexual, exemplifying his own dictum: “Either you are defined by your medium or you must redefine it.”66  Even when he incorporates his own homosexuality, as in  Salute, Walt Whitman  (1996), his characterization remains the universal exploration and discovery of the self. Constantly adapting and evolving in his practice, Michals calls himself an “expressionist” who strives to “liberate and amaze myself to bring insight into my observations.” Since 2020 his philosophy of “no risk, no discovery,” has led him to digitally produce and distribute over 100 PDFs of new and old works plus 45 videos with a goal of producing a new work every week. Michals states: “I hate film, I love digital and use everything the camera can do and seldom take still pictures anymore.”67 The transformation in Michals’s work was denotative of the mood of the 1960s: questioning how things were done, trying new procedures, and eliciting fresh outcomes. The accuracy of what the American government kept telling people was being disputed on numerous fronts. Many people were convinced that, despite issuing more than two dozen volumes, the Warren Commission’s investigation of President Kennedy’s assassination was a conspiratorial cover-up that purposely ignored alternate explanations of the event. Visually similar concerns for those seeking alternate viewpoints rather than a single, fixed perspective were expressed in the 1966 George Eastman House exhibition,  The Persistence of Vision. The show, featuring the work of Donald Blumberg (b. 1935), Charles Gill (b. 1933), Robert Heinecken, Ray K. Metzker, Jerry N. Uelsmann, and John Wood  (1922–2012), challenged the assumption that a photograph’s worth should be based on its ability to convey knowledge directly from nature. John Wood (1922–2012), who taught at Alfred University (1954–1987), was a highly influential teacher who ignored the rules of the day and playfully incorporated collage, drawing, printmaking, and sequential images into his work that called into

question the assumption that a photograph’s merit should be based on its ability to convey knowledge directly from nature. His multimedia compositions, often featuring both image and text, defied the modernist aesthetic of having a binary relationship between the subject and its representation and can be considered conceptual progenitors of digital manipulation. Regardless of the media, his work has a social center that references historic events such as civil rights, environmental catastrophes, nuclear testing, and the Vietnam War without being strident. Consistent with his “political and aesthetic belief that there is no hierarchy between processes, materials, and ideas,” Wood felt “the need to use all the visual media available to me.”68 His My Lai Massacre (1969) appropriates a well-known photograph from the Vietnam War made by U.S. Army photographer Ronald L. Haeberle in 1968, rephotographing it over and over. The result is that the pile of bodies becomes an abstract pattern of halftone dots and patterns resembling a scream. The six separate enlargements persist in speaking to present-day anxieties about how the news media deals with distressing war photographs and the military and public reaction. Wood’s experimental work is characterized by movement among his materials, processes, and subject matter, in which chance operations are held together by his design sense that generates a tension among the divergent parts. “I want to be able to use the photograph like a drawing material; I’d like to maintain its own integrity.”69 This subtle flow taps into Wood’s unconscious considerations, allowing his imagery to remain open and form new associations that do not set limits or assign meaning. His approach anticipates digital imaging without shying away from social issues. This interconnectedness of concepts and images encourages viewers to keep looking and provokes thoughtful interaction that can help people be sensitive to life. Wood’s cross-disciplinary approach influenced

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© JOHN WOOD. My Lai Massacre, 1969. 9½ x 91⁄16 inches. Gelatin silver prints. COURTESY  The National Gallery of Canada, Ottawa and the John Wood Estate.

artists such as Nathan Lyons, Joan Lyons, Robert Heinecken, Robert Fichter, Thomas Barrow, and Betty Hahn, to jump in and break down conditioned barriers between mediums and question what constituted an appropriate photograph.

Collectively their approach brings to the fore ideas institutionalized by Moholy-Nagy, Aaron Siskind, and Harry Callahan at the Institute of Design that asked: Might not multiple or sequential imagery be as perceptually natural as a single photograph?

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© NATHAN LYONS. Untitled, 1997. 4 3⁄8 x 6 5⁄8 inches. Gelatin silver print. When asked how important is it that you have served as a picture maker, educator, and curator, Lyons responded: “I have always functioned as a photographer, so I ask questions in a way that might be different than my counterparts in the traditional curatorial community. What artists have to say about art has always interested me— more than historians, theoreticians, or scholars, but I don’t discount what they have to say.”70 COURTESY

Visual Studies Workshop, Rochester, NY.

Nathan Lyons’s (1930–2016) practice centers on the concept that meaning has no archetypal arrangement, and that photographers do not find meaning but have to construct it through a combination of verbal and visual thinking. This method of working posits that meaning arises from a group of images and that the ordering of a group does not have to have an apparent rational or thematic foundation. In  Notations in Passing  (1974) and  Riding First Class on the Titanic (2000), and After 9/11 (2003), Lyons’s sequential ordering suggests that what is significantly communicated is determined by what he calls the “combinatory play” among the images. Such a strategy relies on the space and time between the images to bring out viewer associations.71  Artists who follow this practice tend to be distrustful of translating images into words, insisting that the way to deal with the content of nonliteral photographs is to experience the images. That said, Lyons often included found text in his compositions that

hint at his intent. Lyons, with his wife Joan, spread such concepts through generations of students by founding the Visual Studies Workshop in 1969, where numerous working artists also taught classes and workshops (see “The Rapid Growth of Photographic Education” later in this chapter). Ray K. Metzker’s (1931–2014) sequential, multiframe, mosaic images bring the New Bauhaus design approach, learned through his studies with //

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© RAY K. METZKER. Car and Streetlamp, 1966. 30 × 22 inches. 14 Gelatin silver prints. Metzker wrote: “Discontented with the single, fixed frame image … my work has moved into something of the composite, of collected and related moments… I employ methods of combination, repetition and superimposition. Where photography has been primarily a process of selection and extraction, I wish to investigate the possibilities of synthesis.”72 COURTESY  Laurence Miller Gallery, New York.

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Callahan and Siskind at the Institute of Design, to bear on the  integrity of the photographic process. Metzker presents the idea of a contact sheet, with its multiple views and black and white tonal variations in the prints, as a way to understand a subject rather than as a means of distilling a subject down to just one image. He utilizes a calligraphic tension, a visual script that weaves the black photographic

frame line into a percussive rhythm that produces a grid-like ordering of the subject. Using individual visual units, representing time and space, and light and dark pictorial values, as building blocks, Metzker constructs meaning when he arranges them into a formal graphic matrix that gives his subject the impression of interruption, a sense of being simultaneously whole and fractured. His composites of many small images depart from the usual photographs made for reproduction in book form, functioning instead as a large single image to be displayed on a gallery wall. The composites work well both from a distance, when the various scenes take on an overall abstract cinematic pulse, and close up, where attentive viewers can see the crisp photographic particulars. During the 1960s photographers explored the strain between the belief in the fundamental realism of the photograph and the subjectivity of the artist’s vision. Jerry Uelsmann (1934–2022) does this by making complex multi-image allegories with sophisticated, “post-visualized” multiple-printing techniques.73  Uelsmann, who studied with Minor White and Henry Holmes Smith in the late 1950s, was the first of a new breed of university-trained imagemakers whose support comes from teaching and grants. Thus freed from commercial restraints, Uelsmann continues to challenge the mindset that photography’s place is to deal with the rational, and that printing a negative is a rote process. Reintroducing Oscar Rejlander’s idea that a single camera image does not have to yield up the final image but can act as part of a larger, assembled representation, Uelsmann collects and combines components directly from his own experience to realize a formal pictorial configuration whose meaning lies outside of the everyday world. Unlike Rejlander, Uelsmann does not tell narrative stories but uses his virtuosic combination printing technique to confront the incomprehensible. The process itself was synonymous with the alternative culture’s interest in interactive performance that is evident in the

© JERRY UELSMANN. Man on Desk, 1976. 20 × 16 inches. Gelatin silver print. Uelsmann said: “The camera is a license to explore. It grants you societal permission to go out and interact with the world. It gives value to my life. Even if I did not have the finished images that I made, I still would be content with all the experiences that the photographing has given me… All knowledge is self-reflective. You change, grow, and struggle to find the words and the images, but knowledge passes through who you are and your experience. Our society is ceaselessly exploring, explaining, examining, and questioning. Education should be a question raising process.”74

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music of Jimi Hendrix (Purple Haze), the Beatles (Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band), the Paul Butterfield Blues Band (East/West) and The Doors (Light My Fire), for discovering what lies beyond the logical, offering evidence of the independence of the imagination. Intrigued by the work of Max Ernst and Joseph Cornell because it used fantasy to challenge accepted ideas of reality, Uelsmann’s seamless multi-image productions are like dreams freed from the anchors of reason. In the pre-digital age, they offered objective optical records of impossible situations—trees floating in air, faces coming out of rocks, radical contrasts in scale, positive and negative imagery— expanding photographic discourse and ambiguous enough to contain both multiple meanings and no meanings at all. His iconography paradoxically combines popular culture with playfully fabricated mythological settings, often using humor. His intuitive methods can communicate complex emotions and contain ingredients similar to the romantic Southern magical realism of John Laughlin. Uelsmann’s fantastical juxtapositions of seemingly unrelated items form seamless “psychic landscapes,” becoming so wondrously believable as to question the supposedly self-evident empirical nature of photographs. It is a transcendental approach that synthesizes discordant parts to reconcile the suitable and inappropriate, the natural and the artificial, the physical and the spiritual.75 “Once in the darkroom the venturesome mind and spirit should be set free,” Uelsmann famously argued, “free to search and hopefully to discover.” 76 In response to the social upheavals of the 1960s, picturemakers like  Robert Heinecken  (1931– 2006) searched for new artistic and technical options that not only relied on multiple images but saw any photographically based activity as source material for picturemaking. In the anything-can-go spirit of the  Happening,77  where the audience became part of the event and was responsible for its interpretation, Heinecken suggested how the boundaries of

photographic content and form could be expanded. Rarely using a camera himself, Heinecken worked with direct processes, such as the photogram, foiling previsualization in favor of chance and free association. These reformulated combinations of images and sometimes text can generate new meanings from the original materials by subverting their original context. Heinecken experimented with photographic emulsion on canvas, metal, and plastic, and often presented his work in the three-dimensional forms of pictures on cubes, picture puzzles, stacked blocks, and built-up collages. Trained as a printmaker, Heinecken made work that departed from the customary appearance and form of photographs. His interest in photography was not as a means to make new pictures, but to re-examine existing ones. As far as he was concerned, the world already had all the images it needed. Any image was raw information containing the “residual of actuality,” a fragment of truth that could be synthesized to reflect the culture that produced it. Heinecken relied on the elements of play and wonder to question everyday assumptions about images and search for associations among presumably divergent subjects. His work combines various media to fashion witty, sardonic, and unexpected cultural connections among the media, sex, and violence. His subject matter, his use of images from popular culture, and the constructed appearance of his finished work all made his approach the antithesis of the straight photography that was dominant in the 1960s and exemplified by Ansel Adams’s transcendental landscapes. Many critics have interpreted Heinecken’s work as a harbinger of postmodern appropriation artists of the 1980s such as Barbara Kruger, Sherrie Levine, and Richard Prince, who recontextualized photographic images culled from printed reproductions.78  The well of Heinecken’s work runs deepest in his numerous magazine projects, which knowingly reference artists such as Hendrik Nicolaas Werkman, John Heartfield, and Hans Bellmer. Heinecken’s

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© ROBERT HEINECKEN. Cliché Vary/Fetishism, 1974. 42 × 42 inches. Photographic emulsion on canvas, pastel chalk.Writing about his work Heinecken stated: “An aspect of the work has to do with altering the literal/cultural meaning of existing public images by making minimal changes and additions. Using superimposition, juxtaposition and other contextual changes, I am functioning as a visual guerrilla.” 79 COURTESY  The Robert Heinecken Trust.

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methods pictured Marshall McLuhan’s ideas about how advertising and news photographs seduce consumers/viewers by circulating a false reality whose foundation is based on clichés and stereotypes that viewers are supposed to imitate. For his Are You Rea series, Heinecken produced contact prints from magazine pages that allowed both sides of the original to be seen simultaneously in one blended image. This simple, but uncanny technique revealed unexpected visual and textual interactions. Executed during the sexual revolution of the 1960s from pages that contained sexually suggestive photographs of women, the results point to the way meaning is often located deep inside the image, only to be excavated by the knowing practitioner. The fragmentation of the text within the work is particularly provocative and is indicative of an anti-illustrative impulse toward evocative meaning. Could Rea stand for Real, Ready, or Reactionary? Former George Eastman Museum curator William Jenkins observed: “Fashion, sports, home decorating and sex inexplicably melt into a consistent magma of contemporary culture.” 80 Heinecken practiced an early form of “guerrilla art” by using offset printing to insert pornographic and Vietnam images into existing magazines, which he then replaced at newsstands and other public locations. Heinecken’s act of fusing the two confronted the similarities rather than the differences between the two. Photographer/historian Carl Chiarenza explains:

matter and by others who felt it represented women in a chauvinistic and misogynistic manner. His work is often a humorous disrupter of the notions about how things are, and about who incorporates cultural images to examine issues concerning gender, imaging, power, sex, and violence from a male point of view. It also reflects the undercurrent of violence—race riots and the Vietnam War—that the media brought nightly into people’s living rooms. Like the nameless photographer in Michelangelo Antonioni’s film  Blow-Up  (1966), Heinecken uses the reproducibility of photographic processes, as opposed to the camera itself, to question and reveal the subsurface truths that the photograph delivers and the culture that has produced them. In other series, especially  Cliché Vary  (1974), he impressively reprocessed photographs of naked women in sexually evocative poses, allowing his own sexuality, desires, and sense of humor a free hand. His sexually desirous approach was also condemned as being misogynist. However, such criticism ignores Heinecken’s principal role as a dadaist, a risk-taking provocateur whose work shows us that reality can be shaped by culture, but in the end is fashioned inside one’s own imagination. His position exemplifies The Rashomon effect 82 that acknowledges the subjectivity of perception on recollection, by which witnesses of an event can tell substantially different, but equally plausible accounts of what occurred, thus allowing us to recognize the many-sided nature of truth(s). His hybrid blending of photography with other media, as in his later  Shiva  relief collage series, extended the aesthetics, methodology, and values of what then constituted fine art photography while widening our definitions of reality. For Heinecken photography was not just a John “Szarkowskian” mirror of the world, but a tool that could actively be used to create its own truth. Heinecken’s guerrilla undertakings confront the fundamental issue: Why does a photograph have to be one thing or another? Why can’t it be just whatever it is?

Indeed, one is hard put to name anything that has not been replaced by a photographically derived image. His recycling of these images makes this astounding point before making any other. Heinecken knows the photograph is not real. He also knows that most of us still believe it is. Photography can be the perfect voyeur for a mechanical age. The camera eye is lusty and insatiable, a perfect match for Heinecken’s eye.81

This lusty match resulted in Heinecken’s work being attacked by those objecting to its sexual subject

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THE RISE OF THE ARTISTS ’ BO OK

reflects his philosophy that the camera image is a mere starting point from which an artist begins a process of transformation to create a picture. Through his Thumbprint Press that he started in Tarzana, CA, in 1965, Walker self-published twenty-four books whose production traces the transition from analog to digital bookmaking. Other artists also began to recognize the handmade book as an affordable, maker-controlled method of reaching an audience with their personal artistic, cultural, and political content that most commercial publishers found to be unprofitable or socially unacceptable to produce. Soon others were making use of quick-copy centers, rubber stamps, and old, unwanted printing equipment to follow Henry Fox Talbot’s dream of “every man being his own printer and publisher” and of “poor authors [making] facsimiles in their own handwriting”84 to get around the gatekeeping machinery of galleries, museums, distributors, and bookshops. From 1966 to 1985, Walker spread his ideas from coast to coast through his career in photographic education during which time he taught with Robert Heinecken, Robert Fichter, Jerry Uelsmann, and Judith Golden among others. European artists have been involved in book production since the early medieval period. English poet and visionary artist William Blake and his wife Catherine are often cited as the earliest direct antecedent with works like Songs of Innocence and of Experience (1789), which merged bound handwritten texts and colored images. Since then artists’ books have made use of a wide range of forms, including the traditional codex, fold-outs, scrolls, and loose items in a box. Members of Constructivism, Dada, Futurism, and Fluxus have made use of this form, but it became more widespread in the latter part of the twentieth century as a way to challenge an art establishment and imagine a new way of reading images and text. Digital imaging, the Internet, and the Do-It-Yourself (DIY) movement have made it easier to produce and circulate self-published work.

Digital pioneer  Todd Walker  (1917–1998) set aside his successful commercial photography career to explore processes and techniques that had been written off by modernist photographers—such as blueprints, collotypes, photolithography, the Sabattier effect, gum printing, and photographic silk screening—to reexamine figurative themes and the landscape. Whether working physically or digitally, Walker questioned the nature of photographs by dismantling and reassembling them into new configurations. He was also an astonishing colorist—his innovative use of offset printing, in which he made numerous color runs instead of the traditional four colors to form an image, was a harbinger of inkjet printing. The process allowed him to achieve a highly personal and saturated palette that could produce radiating bands of color within his images. Walker’s understanding of the interconnectedness of process allowed him to freely move in multiple directions and unite his diverse interests. This freedom often took the form of artists’ books, which date back to Talbot and Atkin. The artist-made book can bring together a play between photographs, text, drawings, marks, and appropriated materials in a variety of formats. Beginning in the 1960s, Walker embraced the idea of the artists’ book as an alternative to the institutional strictures and costly expense of commercial publishing (for more on this subject see Chapter 17). Additionally, Walker was a digital imaging pioneer who incorporated nascent desktop publishing into his art and bookmaking. In 1981, utilizing an Apple II computer, he began writing his own programs so he could digitize, alter, combine, and digitally output his images.83 This allowed him to unite historic and emerging technologies, simultaneously combining images and overturning their original intent in order to transform them into a previously unseen, expressive representation of his interior reality. This

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© TODD WALKER. Digitized Mary, 1984. 111⁄6 × 8¼ inches. Lithograph. Walker understood and appreciated photography’s intertwinement with technology commenting: “I came to photography with the desire to conquer this machine, the camera, and make it my slave. Instead, I have now a respect for it and all machines as expanders of my awareness.”85 COURTESY  The Walker Image Trust.

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© CHUCK CLOSE. Working Grid Photograph of Phil, 1969. 13¾ × 10¾ inches. Gelatin silver print with ink and masking tape. Some art critics considered Chuck Close an artistic Antichrist because he worked from photographs instead of directly from life. Close admired the camera’s ability to level hierarchy, to see all of a subject equally and not to place more importance on one area than another. Close took that lack of power and status, as used by Abstract Expressionistic painters like Frank Stella, and applied it to representational painting so that every square inch was made the same way and had the same visual attitude. Close stated: “I wanted to make something that was impersonal and personal, arm’s-length and intimate, minimal and maximal, using the least amount of paint possible but providing the greatest amount of information… I always thought the best art was extreme whatever it was.”86 COURTESY  Pace Gallery, New York.

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distortion, selective focus, spatial flattening. Their skillfully executed paintings were conceived from photographs rather than directly from life, and in Close’s methodology the photograph acted as a small-scale grid template, the forerunner of pixels, for his descriptive paintings that converted human faces into unfamiliar landscapes that examined the body’s flaws and vulnerabilities. Ironically, in spite of their reliance on photographic appearances, most of the photorealists rejected the direct photograph as an subordinate art. Only Close, struggling with dyslexia, prosopagnosia (face blindness), and subsequently, partial paralysis, used the large-format Polaroid studio camera to make larger-than-life, multi-image portraits, welcoming the photographic syntax in its fundamental form. Eventually, he collaborated with daguerreotypist Jerry Spagnoli to make portraits that utilized the daguerreotype’s exquisite detail. Overall, Close is less a photorealist than an artist concerned with using the photograph’s indexical nature as topographical building blocks, whereby he methodically organizes what appears to be a chaotic, abstract system and demonstrates how to incrementally make sense out of it all.89 The 1960s did not generate a uniform/homogenous stylistic approach like Group f/64 or an individual like Stieglitz dominating the medium through sheer “creative genius,” but rather a loose democratic assemblage whose experiments, rebellions, and social critiques expanded the ranks of people involved with photography. Technical innovations like the introduction of the Nikon F in 1959, which ushered in high-quality, fully interchangeable, 35mm single-lens-reflex camera systems, and the Kodak Instamatic in 1963, with its drop-in film cartridge, made it easier for both professionals and amateurs to make photographs, including in color. The teaching of photography at universities started to swell the ranks of practitioners and introduced fresh ideas to emerging imagemakers, broadening the practice, breaking

The forces driving social change in the 1960s, such as the Civil Rights and Free Speech Movements, the anti-Vietnam war protests, the rise of feminism, and gay rights, affected how photographic issues were analyzed. The growing interest in photographic education shifted the dialogue from the professional sector and the pages of  Popular Photography  to the university. In 1962, an invitational teaching conference at the George Eastman House87  sparked the founding of the Society for Photographic Education (SPE).88  SPE’s purpose was to foster a forum for people involved in the teaching of photography. In Rochester, NY, Nathan Lyons left the George Eastman House and founded the Visual Studies Workshop (VSW) there in 1969. A model of the new interdisciplinary approach to photography and visual culture, VSW influenced the next generation of photographers just as schools like the Institute of Design had done previously. Photography, now based in art departments, received a pronounced injection of academic and aesthetic discourse through the influence of SPE. This growth burst open during the 1970s, offering teaching, gallery, and museum jobs for graduates who came out of the new university photography programs that had sprung up across the United States. The mixing of photography with other visual media had an invigorating, crosspollinating effect on the visual arts. During the mid-1960s, painters like  Chuck Close (1940–2021), Robert Cottingham, Richard Estes, Audrey Flack, and Ralph Going established  photorealism, whose subject matter was how the objective and descriptive qualities of photographic vision affected the interpretation of reality. The photorealists were entranced by the lenticular and spectral effects of photographs— background blurring, depth of field, perspective

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away from standardized mass-produced materials, and widening its critical audience. The new and different ways that people used photographs ignored the tradition of the fine print and spiritually elevating subjects. The desire for transformation actively affected people’s social and artistic lives. A tiny, dynamic group of imagemakers rethought the definitions of content and the nature of the photograph, and applied their counterculture ideas to revamp concepts of what a photograph was supposed to look like; who a photographer was; what a photographer did; and how viewers might respond. This discussion soon extended to a larger audience, one concerned with how photographs could be conceived conceptually and technically, and how they could be viewed and evaluated. In this expansive and exciting framework of individualism, photography did not have to confine itself to scenes of the external world but could fabricate a new aesthetic that interacted with other media, that explored subjective inner realities, and that transcended its previous imposed limits, thus enabling photography to picture that which was once unpicturable.

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Roland Barthes, Camera Lucida: Reflections on Photography, translated by Richard Howard (New York: Hill and Wang, 1981), 118. Ibid., 118. Henry Holmes Smith, “Photography in Our Time: A Note on Some Prospects for the Seventh Decade,” Henry Holmes Smith: Collected Writing, 1935–1985  (Tucson, AZ : Center for Creative Photography, 1986), 68. Influential photographer and educator Minor White would answer the final question with a resounding “yes.” See White, “Equivalence: The Perennial Trend” (1963), in Andrew E. Hershberger, ed.,  Photographic Theory: An Historical Anthology  (Boston, MA and Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell, 2014), 202–6. Allan Sekula, “The Traffic in Photographs” (1981), in Hershberger, ed.,  Photographic Theory: An Historical Anthology, 296–301, esp. 297–98. Nathan Lyons, Toward A Social Landscape (New York: Horizon Press, 1966), 5. See Van Deren Coke,  The Painter and the Photograph, from Delacroix to Warhol  (Albuquerque, NM: University of New Mexico Press, 1964). Revised and enlarged edition, 1972. Lawrence Alloway, Introduction,  Robert Rauschenberg  (Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution, 1976), 5. Leo Steinberg, “Other Criteria,” in Other Criteria: Confrontations with Twentieth-Century Art  (New York: Oxford University Press, 1972), 84. During the 1940s, artist Joseph Cornell (1903–1972) began using photographic images in combination with found objects in his theatrical box constructions, but these were not widely seen and had little immediate impact on other artists’ working methods. In Lucy R. Lippard,  Pop Art  (New York: Frederick A. Praeger, 1966), 6. Douglas Crimp, “Appropriating Appropriation,”  Image Scavengers (Philadelphia, PA: Institute of Contemporary Art, 1983), 33. Susie Brooks, Inside Art Movements: Pop Art (North Mankato, MN: Compass Point Books, 2020), 35. www.brainyquote.com/quotes/ robert_rauschenberg_753694 See Susan Sontag, “Notes on Camp,”  Partisan Review, Fall 1964, 515–27. Also available in Against Interpretation  (New York: Farrar, Straus and Gioux, 1966) and

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as a PDF at: http://faculty.georgetown.edu/irvinem/ theory/Sontag-NotesOnCamp-1964.html Daniel Odier,  The Job: Interviews with William S. Burroughs (Harmondsworth: Penguin Books, 1989), 59. William S. Burroughs, Nova Express (New York: Grove Press, Evergreen Edition, 1992), 147–49. For details about their collaborations, see Robert A. Sobieszek, Ports of Entry: William S. Burroughs and the Arts (Los Angeles County Museum of Art, 1996). Warhol’s appropriation of such materials has raised legal and ethical issues surrounding copyright violation. In 1996, Time Inc. and photographer Henri Dauman sued his estate, claiming Warhol had used a  Life  magazine photo of Jacqueline Kennedy at her husband’s funeral to make silkscreen prints without getting permission, paying, or crediting Dauman or Time/Life. See “Warhol Estate Sued for Using Kennedy Photo,”  The New York Times, Sunday, December 8, 1996, 52. Warhol even sent “better originals” [doubles] who pretended to be him at speaking engagements, making the point “that it’s not what you are that counts, it’s what they [the public] think you are.” See: Andy Warhol and Pat Hackett, “1967: New York, Better Than the Original,” Lapham’s Quarterly, vol. VIII, no. 2 (Spring 2015), 118. Gretchen Berg, “Andy: My True Story,” Los Angeles Free Press, March 17, 1967, 3. Kynaston McShine, Andy Warhol: A Retrospective (New York: Museum of Modern Art, 1989), 458. Marshall McLuhan,  Understanding Media: The Extensions of Man (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1964), 8–9. Ibid., 189. Ibid., 195 and 197. William Jenkins, Introduction to  New Topographics (1975), in Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory: An Historical Anthology, 235–38, esp. p. 236. Art Sinsabaugh, Six Photographers (Urbana, IL: University of Illinois, 1963), unp. Nathan Lyons, Syl Labrot, Walter Chappell, Under the Sun: The Abstract Art of Camera Vision (New York: George Braziller, 1960), n.p. John Kenneth Galbraith,  The Affluent Society  (Boston, MA: Houghton Mifflin, 1958), 1. For details on these events see Robert Hirsch, “Nathan Lyons on the Snapshot,”  CEPA Journal,Winter 1992– 1993, 6–7. All quotes in this section from: Nathan Lyons (ed.), Introduction,  Contemporary Photographers: Towards A

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Social Landscape (New York: Horizon Press, 1966), 6–7. For more on the divergent concepts of previsualization and directorial control in photography, see Edward Weston, “Seeing Photographically” (1943), and A. D. Coleman, “The Directorial Mode: Notes Toward a Definition” (1976), in Hershberger, ed.,  Photographic Theory: An Historical Anthology, 132–35 and 276–83 respectively. Quoted by Janet Malcolm, “Photography: Certainties and Possibilities,”  The New Yorker, vol. 51, no. 24 (August 4, 1975), 56–59. John Szarkowski,  Winogrand: Figments From the Real World (New York: Museum of Modern Art, 1988), 23. Garry Winogrand, “Women Are Beautiful Portfolio” (Austin, TX: RFG Publishing, 1981), unp. Ibid., 36. Ibid., 39. John Szarkowski,  The Photographer’s Eye  (New York: Museum of Modern Art, 1966), 8. See Szarkowski’s explanation of each of his five points in the Introduction to The Photographer’s Eye, reprinted in Hershberger, ed.,  Photographic Theory: An Historical Anthology, 226–31. See Deborah Bright, “Of Mother Nature and Marlboro Men: An Inquiry into the Cultural Meanings of Landscape Photography” (1985), in Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory: An Historical Anthology, 302–9. For information about street photography see Colin Westerbeck and Joel Meyerowitz, Bystander: A History of Street Photography (Boston, MA: Little, Brown, 1994). Lee Friedlander, Introduction,  Self Portrait  (New York: Haywire Press, 1970). Quoted in Patricia Bosworth,  Diane Arbus: A Biography (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1984), 187. During this time social reformers like Betty Friedan (1921–2006), author of The Feminine Mystique (1963) and founder of the National Organization for Women (1966), questioned the notion that a woman could only achieve fulfillment by being a wife, having children, and managing the home. Allan Sekula, “Dismantling Modernism, Reinventing Documentary (Notes on the Politics of Representation),” The Massachusetts Review, vol. 19, no. 4, “Photography” (Winter, 1978), 865. Bosworth, Diane Arbus, 41. Ibid., 132. Ibid., Preface, xi. Ibid., 249 and 303.

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49 Ibid., 177.

64 Coleman, “Duane Michals,” 30.

50 Diane Arbus, Diane Arbus: An Aperture Monograph

65 Quoted in Shelley Rice, “Duane Michals’s ‘Real

(New York: Aperture, 1972) 12 & 15. 51 See: Ann Marks, Vivian Maier Developed: The Untold

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Story of the Photographer Nanny (New York: Atria Books, 2021). For more on Maier see the documentary film  Finding Vivian Maier, 2014, co-directed by John Maloof and Charlie Siskel. www.findingvivianmaier.com See: Inez de Coo, “The Myth of Vivian Maier,” www.academia.edu/14072961/The_Myth_of_Vivian_Maier & Kevin Coffee, “Misplaced: ethics and the photographs of Vivian Maier,” in Museum Management and Curatorship, 2014, vol. 29, no. 2, 93‒101, www.tandfonline.com/doi/ abs/10.1080/09647775.2014.888817 See Doon Arbus and Marvin Israel, eds., Diane Arbus: Magazine Work (Millerton, NY: Aperture, 1984). Tom Wolfe, “The Birth of ‘The New Journalism’; Eyewitness Report by Tom Wolfe,”  New York Magazine, February 14, 1972, http://nymag.com/news/ media/47353/ Bruce Davidson, Introduction,  Bruce Davidson Photographs (New York: Agrinde Publications Ltd., 1978), 10. Ibid., 14. Chris Wiley, “I’m an Outsider on the Inside: An Inter­view with Bruce Davidson,” The New Yorker, June 13, 2019, www.newyorker.com/culture/photo-booth/ im-an-outsider-on-the-inside-an-interview-with-brucedavidson See: James J. Farrell, The Spirit of the Sixties: The Making of Postwar Radicalism (New York & London: Routledge, 1997). Rebecca Bengal, “Even From the Desert, Danny Lyon Still Speaks to the Streets,” The New York Times, Nov. 27, 2020, www.nytimes.com/2020/11/27/arts/design/ danny-lyon-sncc-photography.html Cited by David E. Rosenbaum, “Time Wrap: Republicans Like Both Previews and Reruns,”  The New York Times, Sunday, December 11, 1994, Section 4, 16. See sections on “Identity/Politics” in Hershberger, ed.,  Photographic Theory: An Historical Anthology, 295–318 and 355–76, esp. David Wojnarowicz, “Do Not Doubt the Dangerousness of the 12-Inch-Tall Politician” (1991), 356–58. Danny Lyon,  Conversations with the Dead: Photographs of Prison Life with the Letters and Drawings of Billy McCune  #  122054  (Austin, TX: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1971), 13.

67 68

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Dreams,’ ” Afterimage, vol. 4 (December 1976), 6. A. D. Coleman, “Duane Michals,” Camera & Darkroom, vol. 15, no. 11 (November 1993), 27. Duane Michals phone conversations with author, September 24, 25, & 26, 2022. Robert Hirsch,  Transformational Imagemaking: Handmade Photography Since 1960  (New York and London: Focal Press, 2014), 55. Quotes are from numerous emails between Wood and the author. Quoted in Laurie Siverts Snyder,  Recent Collages and Rock Drawings by John Wood (Cortland, NY: Dowd Fine Arts Gallery, State University of New York, College at Cortland). Robert Hirsch, “Nathan Lyons on the Snapshot,” CEPA Journal, Spring/Summer 1993, 8. This suggests Minor White’s influence upon a generation of artists living, studying, and/or working in Rochester, NY, including Lyons. On White’s ideas here, see Andrew E. Hershberger, “The Time Between Photographs in Minor White’s Sequences,” in catalog Minor White (San Diego, CA: Museum of Photographic Arts, 2015), forthcoming. Ray K. Metzker, [Statement], Aperture, vol. XIII, no. 2 (1967), unp. See Jerry Uelsmann, “Post-Visualization” (1967), in Hershberger, ed.,  Photographic Theory: An Historical Anthology, 232–34. This is Uelsmann’s response to and rebuttal of Edward Weston’s “previsualization” concept noted above. Robert Hirsch, “Maker of Photographs: Jerry Uelsmann,” Photovision, vol. 3, no 1, September/October 2002, 18 & 19, www.photovisionmagazine.com/articles/uelsmann.html See: Robert Hirsch, “Maker of Photographs: Jerry Uelsmann,”  Photovision, vol. 3, no 1, September/October, 2002, 18–27. Uelsmann, “Post-Visualization” (1967), 234. A Happening was part of the 1960s Pop Art scene. Its name derived from Allan Kaprow’s 1959 New York show  18 Happenings in 6 Parts, in which a rehearsed, multimedia event unfolded. The audience moved on cue from room to room, becoming part of the performance, and it was their job to unravel the disjointed events. Kaprow said a Happening was an “assemblage of events performed or perceived in more than one time and place.” See A. D. Coleman’s essay, “‘I Call it Teaching’: Robert

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Heinecke’s Analytical Facture” in Robert Heinecken: Photographist—A Thirty-Five Year Retrospective  (Chicago, IL: Museum  of Contemporary Art, Chicago, 1999), 1–11. Also, Eva Respini (ed.), Robert Heinecken: Object Matter (New York: The Museum of Modern Art, New York, 2014). Robert Heinecken, “Statements About Work,” circa 1963, in Eva Respini (ed.), Robert Heinecken: Object Matter (New York: The Museum of Modern Art, 2014), www.moma.org/explore/inside_out/2014/04/25/ rebel-photography-robert-heinecken-as-visual-guerrilla/ William Jenkins, “Introduction,” James Enyeart, ed., Heinecken (Carmel, CA: Friends of Photography, 1980), 15. Carl Chiarenza, from an unpublished article, September, 1976 in Heinecken, 29. The Rashomon effect refers to Akira Kurosawa’s storytelling technique in his film Rashomon (1950). It references how the same situation can be described in significantly different, and often contradictory, ways by the people who were involved, reminding us to question what we think we have seen.

83 As simple digital drawing software became available,

84 85 86 87

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other artists began experimenting with such programs to produce artists’ books as in the case of Robert Fichter’s After Eden (1984). Letter of March 21, 1839. Herschel Collection. The Royal Society, London. Todd Walker, www.azquotes.com/quote/1444648. Con-­ firmed by email with Melanie Walker, August 21, 2022. Robert Shorr et al.,  Chuck Close  (New York: The Museum of Modern Art, 1998), 89. See “Invitational Teaching Conference at the George Eastman House 1962” (Rochester, NY: George Eastman House, 1963). The group was formalized in Chicago in 1963 with Nathan Lyons as SPE’s first president; Aaron Siskind, Art Sinsabaugh, Henry Holmes Smith, Clarence White, Jr., and Minor White were installed as members of the first board of directors. See Chuck Close et al., A Couple of Ways of Doing Something (New York: Aperture, 2006).

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photographic representation back to the restrained stance of the straight gelatin silver print and a pessimistic philosophy of diminished possibilities that questioned the foundations of beauty, intended meaning, and originality.

The Vietnam War (1946–1975) ended with a ceasefire agreement in 1973 and American troops withdrew. Before divisions in the U.S. could heal, the Watergate affair caused many people to abandon the notion of government integrity and forced Richard M. Nixon to resign in 1974, the first U.S. president to do so. People were worn out from a decade of artistic and social experimentation that led to national internal dissension and were looking toward quieter and more peaceful times. The raw, screaming protesters and guitars of the 1960s gave way to the canned disco sounds of ABBA, the Bee Gees, and Donna Summer. The seismic shifts in gender roles brought about by the Women’s Liberation Movement ran into trouble with the defeat of the Equal Right Amendment to the United States Constitution. The hippie peace and love movement turned into the violence of the Symbionese Liberation Army.1 This distinctive split could be seen in photography. The first half of the decade saw a settling of the emotionally charged frontiers of the 1960s, while the second half was a dry, formal, cooling period. Photographic practice, like the conservative “Silent Majority” that ushered in the “Reagan Revolution” of the 1980s, moved from the idealistic, community-based search for open-form investigations that contradicted the fixed notions of

RO CHESTER : A NEW CULTURE OF VISUAL OPTIONS By the mid-to-late 1960s, artists were staging their own celebratory versions of Allan Kaprow’s 18 Happenings in 6 Parts  (1959). Kaprow referred to his Happening as “A game, an adventure, a number of activities engaged in by participants for the sake of playing.”2 Instead of relegating art as only something that hung on a wall, Kaprow facilitated audience participation, allowing viewers to become personally involved in an actual experience. Visually, Happenings can be likened to collages of events that unfold in a specific span of time and space. With this kinetic backdrop, this new culture of visual options found fertile ground in the Western New York region where George Eastman House (GEH), now called the George Eastman Museum (GEM), the Rochester Institute of Technology (RIT), and strong photography programs at the

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University of Buffalo and Buffalo State College supported  vigorous innovation among generations of photographers. Locally based commercial photographic and printing companies, such as Kodak and Xerox, supported these academic and collecting institutions along with related professional associations, such as the Society for Photographic Education (SPE). Also, Light Impressions and its imprint Lustrum Press were founded in Rochester to specifically meet the material and aesthetic needs of this new generation of photographers. While working at GEH, publishing  Aperture and Image, and teaching at RIT from 1953 to 1965, Minor White had nurtured the belief that there was no chain of command in the arts and that “alternative” paths could be pursued at any point of the creative process. By the late 1960s and early 1970s Rochester emerged as a hothouse for artists and curators who thought that photographic description alone would not necessarily unveil the potency of a subject.3 Betty Hahn, Les Krims, Bea Nettles, and John Pfahl all taught at RIT during this period, and all stressed methods that made use of allusion and suggestion, approaches that gave their work an enigmatic quality. In addition, during the late 1960s the GEH staff included Nathan Lyons, Thomas Barrow, Robert Fichter, Harold Jones, Roger Mertin, and Alice Wells, among others. Lyons left GEH in 1969 and founded the Visual Studies Workshop (VSW) and Afterimage magazine, making VSW an incubator for teachers, writers, and students intrigued with contemporary photo-based practice.

that any problem-solving process had to allow for the possibility that one might not get it precisely right. The American appreciation of uncertainty finds its lineage in the thinking that created the U.S. Constitution, whereby new ideas, in the form of Amendments, could be developed, implemented, and discarded—providing a structure open to change. During the 1960s, photographers pursued a path of dissent by challenging accepted chemical and optical methods of photographic presentation. The philosophies of Cartier-Bresson’s “decisive moment” and Szarkowski’s “photographer’s eye” were put in the backseat by a new group of discontented imagemakers.4  Robert W. Fichter  (b. 1939) pushed the boundaries of conventional practice in his explorations of the Sabattier effect (a.k.a solarization) and by exposing the same roll of film numerous times in a cheap plastic toy Diana camera. Fichter, a painter and printmaker who studied with Jerry Uelsmann and Henry Holmes Smith, experimented with alternative imagemaking methods that included collage, cyanotype, gum bichromate, hand-coloring, and an outmoded Verifax copy machine. Fichter’s work as a George Eastman House curator and especially his teaching, at UCLA (where he taught alongside Robert Heinecken) and later at Florida State University, inspired students to conduct their own investigations into the expressive form and the symbolic content of the photographic image. As the 1970s opened, photographers were seriously examining their medium’s roots. Universities added courses in photographic and film history to their curriculums. Photographers re-examined anonymous vernacular images, such as snapshots and postcards, which gave legitimacy to collecting photography and fueled its acceptance in art galleries, museums, and publishing houses. As part of a movement that was rediscovering historical processes, photographic educators like Betty Hahn (b. 1940), who also studied with H. H. Smith, used the cyanotype and gum processes to make loose,

NEW APPROACHES In the 1960s the democratic-based social movements—which extended into photographic practice—had their basis in doubt. Many believed

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© ROBERT W. FICHTER. World War I Soldiers, 1970. 14 × 18 inches. Cyanotype with watercolor. In curating Photography into Sculpture (1970) for MoMA, photo-historian Peter C. Bunnell (b. 1937) gave credibility to twenty artists, including Ellen Brooks (b. 1946), Darryl Curran (b. 1935), Robert Heinecken, Bea Nettles, and Doug Prince (b. 1943), who were broadening the flat photographic playing field into the actual third dimension.5 Prince’s small Plexiglas boxes house a series of transparent images, one in front of the other, whose multilayering and sense of depth resist the opacity of the photographic image by allowing a solitary viewer to look through time and space. Naomi Savage (1927–2005), who had worked with Man Ray, combined photographic methods such as multiple exposure, negative printing, and toning with collage, engraving, and intaglio. Her most intriguing work involved metal photographic etchings in which the plate itself becomes the final object rather than a part of the process, transforming her subject’s appearance and a viewer’s expectations for what counts as a photograph. Photography Collections, University of Maryland, Baltimore County. COURTESY  Jerry Uelsmann Collection.

roughly detailed, impressionistic images, with flat fields of color that disputed the ideals and content of the glossy print. She taught these methods to her many students at the Rochester Institute of Technology and, later, at the University of New Mexico. Hahn and photo educator Bea Nettles (b. 1946),

who also taught at RIT and later at the University of Illinois, looked into the sculptural properties of scale, space, and volume by making images on fabric and then stuffing and stitching them together. Nettles, who took her first photography course with Robert Fichter and later was mentored by him, then

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in Spiral Jetty (1970), saw our earth as a stage one can design upon. Uses of new technology encouraged photographers to explore the possibilities of new imaging systems like the photocopy machine. Sonia Landy Sheridan (1925–2021) operated the copy machine as a camera. Often using her own body as source material, Sheridan’s electrostatic prints demonstrated the immediacy of the process and the interactive connection that was possible between artist and machine. This concept was furthered by Ellen Land-Weber (b. 1943), who placed three-dimensional objects on the copy machine’s document glass and printed the resulting images on Arches watercolor paper, producing a soft, muted, lithograph-like rendering. Sheridan founded the Generative Systems Department at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago in 1970 to offer a forum for artists and scientists to investigate new technological systems of image production, including copiers, video, and computer-generated images. These activities, along with the introduction of the Xerox 6500 color copy machine in 1973, fueled a budding copy art movement (see Chapter 18). Thomas Barrow  (b. 1938), who studied at the Institute of Design, worked as a curator at the George Eastman House, and taught at the University of New Mexico, experimented with found mass-media sources on an obsolete Verifax photocopier to create quick, densely packed montages that comment on America’s intense level of consumerism. These direct, cameraless images led Barrow to his Man Ray-like spray-painted photograms of the late 1970s and early 1980s. Here he investigated concepts concerning abstraction, language, representation, and the cultural thinking process that ties them together. For Barrow, photographic data is a jumping-off spot, as the immaculate print is discarded in the conviction that artistic response lies beyond the pictorial vision of the lens. Barrow continued to work with these issues in his  Cancellation  series (1974–1978), bridging the two seemingly incompatible photographic trends of

© NAOMI SAVAGE. Enmeshed Man, 1966. 9¾ × 8 inches. Photo engraved, silverplated copper plate with painted additions. COURTESY  Peter C. Bunnell Collection, Princeton, NJ.

spread these concepts more broadly in her alternative process book, Breaking the Rules (1977), and in artists’ books such as Flamingo in the Dark (1979). Interest in how imagery could be formulated received a boost from photographs produced for scientific purposes. NASA’s intricate composite photographs taken by the Surveyor moon landing craft in 1966 and 1968 were of interest to artists and the public. After NASA’s first photograph of the earth from space the Land Art/Earthworks movement, as exemplified by Robert Smithson’s (1938–1973) linkage of the landscape to art

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© THOMAS BARROW. Caulked Construction—Teepees, 1979. 18 × 19 inches (irregular). Reconstructed gelatin silver print with caulking, staples, and spray paint. COURTESY  Washington Art Consortium: Henry Art Gallery, University of Washington, Seattle; Museum of Art, Washington State University,

Pullman; Northwest Museum of Arts and Culture, Spokane; Seattle Art Museum; Tacoma Art Museum; Western Gallery, Western Washington University, Bellingham; Whatcom Museum of History and Art, Bellingham. American Photographs: 1970–1980; gift of Virginia Wright. Thomas F. Barrow, 1979, and Laurence Miller Gallery, New York.

the neutrality of the images with an explosive hand gesture, slashing an “X” onto the hallowed surface of the negative and, in turn, destroying the notions of the fine photographic print aesthetic of Edward Weston and Ansel Adams. This physical alteration separates the subject from its image, demanding that

the 1970s—of highly charged personal experimentation and emotionally minimal formalism. Barrow photographed the southwestern, social landscape in the literal, deadpan style known as “New Topographics” that had become popular with photographers in the American West.6  Barrow breaks

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we recognize that the picture is a facsimile of reality. It also, according to curator Kathy McCarthy Gauss, lodges a protest against the inhumanity, insensitivity, and unaesthetic nature of the landscape:

derived landscapes are highly rational and formal, rendered with a dispassionate approach that contrasts with the slash marks. The primitive defacing introduces an element of intellectual discord aimed against the refined mechanistic photographic image. The marks are akin to graffiti and suggest repudiation, a tweaking of the subject that recalls Marcel Duchamp’s alteration of the Mona Lisa.7

The obvious marking, the attempted destruction of the negative carries a veiled humorous allusion to the historical tension between craft and machine. The mechanically

At the end of the 1970s Barrow took his  Cancellations  a step further by vandalizing the print. In the  Caulked Reconstructions, a transformed version of nineteenth-century combination printing, Barrow rips apart the flat, fine print and then reassembles it into a three-dimensional patchwork that is joined together with silicone caulk, staples, and spray paint. Barrow’s direct intervention signals his dissatisfaction with the straight print along with the Kodak color palette and the machine-like, hands-off detachment of the commercial photographic process. By extending his physical presence into the picturemaking process, Barrow asks viewers to spend more time with the work than they would with a conventionally made camera image. By inserting himself into this process of recycling imagery and materials, with references to contemporary culture and art history, Barrow’s multilayered formats remind viewers about the complexity of modern existence and how difficult it can be to decipher what is “really” happening in any particular image, whether “straight” photograph or heavily manipulated one. William Larson  (1942–2019), who also attended the Institute of Design, became interested in the interactive nature of the photographic process and in finding methods to transcend the limitations of the modernist print aesthetic. He worked with a Graphic  Sciences Teleprinter that converted an image into audio signals that were transmitted via telephone and reassembled to produce a facsimile. Recalling the early influences of Étienne-Jules Marey’s time-based images and

© WILLIAM LARSON. Transmission 0035, 1974. 11 × 8½ inches. Electrocarbon print. Larson stated: “The early fax technology, although slow in transmitting (6 minutes per 8½ × 11 inch paper) produced relatively high resolution for reproduction of visual materials. Since it translated everything into an audio signal to be sent via telephone, it read everything from images to classical music as a simple digital code, which was then converted into corresponding voltage levels to literally burn the image(s) into their special paper at the receiving end. It was also possible to manipulate the image, while it was printing, by simply moving the stylus as it burned the image into paper.”8

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László Moholy-Nagy’s Bauhaus philosophy, Larson built up an image over time through multiple transmissions.9  His hand-directed collaged data, based on snapshots, snippets of text, and marks made by sounds, suggests ambiguous messages and the kinds of memories that are experienced when trying to recall a dream. These electro-carbon renditions, made between 1970 and 1976, were called  Fireflies because of the recurring image of a firefly and the allusion to the ephemeral flight of information. While referencing the natural world, these low-resolution images rely on open space to impart a sense of the alienation, distance, and uncertainty that surrounded the advent of computer technology. While traversing customary media boundaries of sight and sound, Larson challenged our preoccupation with the literal “What is it?” classification and identification that people frequently associate with photographs.

as a performer who is formally distorting reality while mocking the idea of photographic duplication, demonstrating the absurdity of attempting to reoccupy the same space and time. In some cases, Josephson goes beyond the issues of how the photographic frame functions and gets into what the frame includes and excludes and how the photograph conveys data. In Honolulu (1968), Josephson printed the image of three people so dark that its specific informational value was lost; you knew they were people but could not identify them as individuals. He then printed the same image with the details present, tore away parts of the images he didn’t want, and collaged the remaining pieces on top of the full dark image so you could now see their faces and know who they were. Through collage methods that include pictures within pictures and intersections between black-and-white and color, Josephson examines what takes place along the borders of photographic reality. His work stresses the ambiguity of representation and the effect of time on the realization of the subject. Josephson reshapes the photograph to discover a new vantage point that disrupts Renaissance concepts of how the world is and what a picture is supposed to look like, pointing out that the core of the picturemaking process is about ideas.11 The notion of photographic veracity and its relationship to representation was likewise examined by Joseph Jachna (1935–2016), who also attended the Institute of Design. Jachna constructed formal landscapes around handheld mirrors he introduced into his frame to make his audience aware of the differences between “natural” and photographic space. Self-consciously revealing the image and the procedures of its creation, Jachna held up the manipulative power of the photograph to itself for examination. By layering a number of images into a single photograph, Jachna fooled the viewer’s sense of time and space. The intensely printed blacks and glowing highlights in his prints lend a spiritual quality and reverence  to an ambiguous space that

TURNING THE STRAIGHT PHOTO GRAPH ON ITSELF Other photographers turned the straight photograph inside-out to remind viewers that photography is simultaneously a trace of the real and an inherent abstraction. Kenneth Josephson  (b. 1932), who studied at Rochester Institute of Technology with Minor White and the Institute of Design, investigated the truthfulness of the silver print. Josephson’s approach is conceptual, deemphasizing subject matter and stressing the relationship between a photograph of a subject and the subject itself. Josephson makes photographs  about  photographs that reveal “the process of creating pictures as ideas rather than as representations.”10 In one series, Josephson holds a postcard of each scene into his photographic frame, playfully interjecting himself

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© KENNETH JOSEPHSON. Postcard Visit, Buffalo, 1970. 4 × 6 3⁄8 inches. Color postcard collage. Josephson says that he always “makes” a picture — never “takes” or “shoots” a picture. He divulges that he finds it problematic to explain his work: “I just knew it was a don’t-do—don’t put yourself in your shots. Yet it gave me this strange feel in my gut. It felt so meaningful to me. But even now, when I put it into words, it sounds off. I’d always rather show you than tell you.”12 COURTESY  The Art Institute of Chicago. Photography © The Art Institute of Chicago.

has been distorted and flattened by the mirrored reflections. These personal mediations disturb the boundaries between optical fact and optical illusion. The authority and dominance of the single, straight gelatin silver print aesthetic was questioned through other innovative approaches that encouraged a type of individual expression that subverted it. The concept, championed by Szarkowski, that the frame was singular and all-inclusive was questioned by artists such as Barbara Blondeau (1938–1974), Barbara Crane, and  Robbert Flick  (b. 1939), who worked with multiple, extended framing and serial repetition. Paradoxically, they all used the

straight print to challenge its own aesthetic and accompanying assumptions about time and its relationship to picturemaking and viewing.  Barbara Crane  (1928–2019) examined these ideas often on a large scale, building up temporal relationships between objects that cannot be comprehended all at once but disclose themselves over time. It is this “extra” time in their photographs that allows complex interrelationships to be discovered.

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© ROBBERT FLICK. SV# 035/81, Near Live Oak I, Joshua Tree National Monument, CA, 1981. 20 × 24 inches. Gelatin silver prints. Flick’s Sequential Views combines the characteristic photographic trends of the 1970s. Relying on the verisimilitude of the gelatin silver print, Flick creates a formal repetitious structure that is paradoxical to what the images appear to divulge conceptually. His continuum of views, merging into one, challenges presumptions about photographic process, space, and time. By shifting location, extending or negating forms through perspective, or using different focal length lenses, Flick disrupts the borders between an indexical documentary practice and one that offers a cataloging of subjects and artistic interpretation. Besides questioning the physical makeup of any place and the notion of the single photograph, these views provide alternative explanations to the difference(s) between appearance and reality. COURTESY  Robert Mann Gallery, New York.

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© BARBARA CRANE. Just Married, 1975. From the series Baxter/Travenol Laboratories. 16 × 20 inches; mural size 9 × 7 feet. Gelatin silver prints. COURTESY  Stephen Dater Gallert, Chicago, IL and Higher Pictures, New York.

PERSONAL ACCOUNTS, INVENTION, AND INTERACTION

Tapping into a basic photographic impulse to create a visual diary, photographers like Ralph Eugene Meatyard, Les Krims, Arthur Tress (b. 1940), and Lucas Samaras used a narrative, neosurrealist approach to map interior landscapes. They dealt with the irrational by ordering an environment they could control. These fictions, composed of ordinary objects and set in commonplace environments, were intentionally  organized to reveal underlying psychological conditions in a documentary style.

The attention Diane Arbus’s work received in the 1960s encouraged other photographers to personalize photographs made as social documents. Beginning in the 1960s, the stream-of-consciousness style of the atomic age progressively metamorphosed itself into a personal documentary mode.

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The effect of this direct intervention by artists with their subjects was to stimulate tension between the fundamental formalism of the photograph and the subjectivity of the artist’s personal vision, creating a hybrid form—documentary fiction. Ralph Eugene Meatyard  (1925–1972), who studied with photographic curator/historian/ museum professional Van Deren Coke (1921– 2004), was an optician from Lexington, KY. Working within the orderly confines of his square 2¼-inch camera format, Meatyard used family and friends as models to generate enigmatic, hauntingly impenetrable dramas filled with surprise and fear. In his series of surreal “Romances,” Meatyard had his models wear cheap Halloween masks as a symbolic device for diving below the surface of outer reality. His often darkly printed and sometimes ghostly blurred images reinforced the typically Southern Gothic idea of the world as frightening, unseeable, and unknowable. Like Clarence John Laughlin before him, Meatyard’s combination of real environments and phantasmal effects fashioned ambiguous documents about identity, remembrance, and the continuance of time. Meatyard also experimented with what he called “No-Focus” photography; an endeavor to make aesthetically thought provoking photographs by organizing a scene’s tonal quantities to release the photographic process from optical realism and to prompt an idiosyncratic response. People who depended on sharply constructed subject matter did not respond well to such images that abandoned objective realism, as it was not completely clear to them what these pictures were about. Although Meatyard worked throughout the 1960s, his family snapshot genre images did not receive attention until the posthumous publication of The Family Album of Lucybelle Crater  (1974), which was metaphorically built around a fictional character based on a Gertrude Stein story.13 Under this edifice, Meatyard brought forth a dark side account of Steichen’s Family of Man by incorporating hints of the beautiful, the comic, the grotesque, and the

RALPH EUGENE MEAT YARD. Romance (N) from Ambrose Bierce, No. 3, 1962. 7 × 7 5⁄16 inches. Gelatin silver print. © The Estate of Ralph Eugene Meatyard. COURTESY  Fraenkel Gallery, San Francisco, CA.

tragic so that viewers could ruminate on dreams and metaphysical questions. Certain artists, such as  Les Krims  (b. 1942), felt restricted by “The Decisive Moment” and “The Concerned Photographer” aesthetics as well as the physical attributes of the fine art gelatin silver print.14 Growing up in New York Krims was familiar with the NewYork Daily News (“NewYork’s Picture Newspaper”), whose tabloid-style photographs habitually featured crime stories and sex-related gossip, often illuminated by the harsh flashbulb made prominent by Weegee. In this manner, Krims’s early fantastic, staged compositions were built around the distorted and explosive manifestation produced by his human subjects, often nude women, captured with a wide-angle lens and electronic flash, shocking Main Street’s sense of decency and propriety.15 The absurd is given full rein in Krims’s disturbing images, such as a screaming, legless man

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© LES KRIMS. Human Being as a Piece of Sculpture (Screaming Man Fiction), Buffalo, New York, 1970. 4 5⁄8 x 6 7⁄8 inches. Gelatin silver (Kodalith) print.

on a pedestal, leaving viewers no place to go except to confront the affliction. In the late 1960s and early 1970s Krims printed his self-directed photographs on Kodak Kodalith paper, an orthochromatic, graphic arts material not intended for pictorial use. By subverting the manufacturer’s intent, he was able to produce high-contrast, dramatically grainy, brown-toned effects that defied conventions of expected print quality that were as confrontational as the imagery itself. Krims recollects,

another facet of the “skills” required to wind up with something usable. It was a long row to hoe to make a print, which generally embodied the antithesis of what was then sanctified as a great print.16

At first, Krims’s work was well received, as demonstrated by an Aperture review in which Peter Bunnell writes, “Often ephemeral, violent, weird and excessive, he [Krims] has contrived to concentrate in his photographs the acrid bouquet of urban life; what Baudelaire described as the beauty of circumstance, the sketch of manners.”17 Utilizing this stylized methodology, Krims made a number of provocative series including  The Little People Of America  (1971),  The Deerslayers (1972), The Incredible Case Of The Stack O’ Wheats Murders  (1972) and  Making Chicken

Making a continuous-tone image with Kodalith paper, which was meant to produce only black dots or no dots, satirized the cult of the silver print. Additionally, I liked the fragility—the feel of paper—and the daguerreotype-like positive/negative  reversal of the shadows one could see. Keeping the very thin paper ‘dink’ free seemed

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© LUCAS SAMARAS. Photo-Transformation, June 13, 1974. 3 1⁄8 x 3 1⁄16 inches. Diffusion-transfer print. COURTESY  Pace/MacGill Gallery, New York.

affected young photographers, encouraging them to visualize their inner fictions, explore forbidden subjects and manipulate photographic materials in ways not intended by their manufacturers. The interaction between the fine arts and photography can be seen in the fictional creations of Lucas Samaras (b. 1936). Samaras is a painter, sculptor, and performance artist who in the late 1960s created a series called  Auto-Polaroids  in which he manipulated his face and body, altering his appearance to visualize a psychological autobiography. In 1973, Samaras started his  Photo-Transformations, a body of work in which he photographed himself with colored lights and a Polaroid SX-70 camera to confront the theme of the modern self that Samaras sees as being open to  constant reinvention. Designed as the definitive

Soup  (1972). These works, featuring people with dwarfism, deer hunters and their kill, faux murder scenes of nude young women, and his topless mother, created a furore in the photographic community, received much notice, and were widely exhibited. Making use of photographic multiples, Krims, who had originally planned to study printmaking, pioneered a then novel method of getting his work out into the world by self-publishing his collections in boxed, signed, and numbered sets for $3.95 each.18  Although some found these provocative and satiric works to be shockingly condescending, misogynistic, sensational, and/or sexist,19  Krims’s provocative, allegorical tales tested the photographic community’s tolerance for taboo subjects presented in a challenging and confrontational manner. This work was a bellwether of the changing attitudes that

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snapshot system, the SX-70, introduced in 1972, was ideal for experimentation because it did not have an established aesthetic, the unique results were immediate and private, and it freed makers from having to know anything about darkroom photographic processes. Vernacular imagemakers, such as Walker Evans, took up the SX-70 for its ability to directly collect and present data. Unhappy with the confines of the gelatin silver print, Samaras used the SX-70 to relocate his manipulative impulses directly into the medium. Samaras interacted with the process by using a stylus to move the dye layers of the film before they hardened, achieving the same raw, gestural effect and extravagant, unnatural color within the rococo motif he favored in his paintings and sculptures. Within the mundane setting of a cramped New York City apartment, Samaras’s body erupts, spreads, and stretches, as if possessed by demonic forces, revealing a hidden monster lurking below the surface. Samaras’s self-obsessed, surreal tableaux dispense with romantic and sentimental ideals of the self, and like a psychedelic drug experience, they engage the viewer in a dynamic hallucinatory state of psychic transformation. The instant Polaroid print, having no negative to be tinkered with, lends a sense of authenticity to his visions. As befits someone whom critic Peter Schjeldahl called “the artist laureate of narcissism,”20 Samaras’s favorite subject is himself. By showing viewers how multinatured the self can be, he continues an artistic tradition that would become celebrated and much imitated in the identity, role-playing work of Cindy Sherman (see Chapter 19). Samaras stated, “When I say ‘I,’ more than one person stands up to be counted.”21 The counterculture of the 1960s developed its own brand of American existentialism, stressing that there were no single answers to artistic, cultural, economic or social questions and that people were free to discover their own self(s) and purpose for being. This led numerous artists to follow their understanding of the world through the filter of the

self and track their observations through personal journals. For photographers, this diaristic impulse, the desire to make a visual record about a subject based on one’s own experiences, reached its widest audience in book form. The financial losses involved in publishing controversial material for a small audience forced photographers to return to self-publishing. The content and form of these biographical narratives were often a personal mix of images and text, having roots in the snapshot and the family album. This flexible form allowed for individual freedom, self-definition, and the expression of alternative lifestyles. The format departed from the style of the Life photo-essay, giving a sense of looking at an anecdotal scrapbook. These young photographers were working with the one subject they knew best: their own lives. The books they made did not rely on single “decisive moments” but spun their tales through a collage of sequences that often alternated between black-and-white and color images, contact sheets, film clips, found images, newspaper stories, handwritten notes, drawings, paintings, and informally written accounts (see Artists’ Book section later in this chapter). This biographical approach formed the basis for the publishing experiments of  Ralph Gibson  (b. 1939). In 1969, this former assistant to Dorothea Lange and Robert Frank founded Lustrum Press, which during the 1970s published an unconventional collection of books featuring his and others’ photographs.22  Gibson’s own high-contrast 35mm work is tightly composed and reflects the minimalist  impulse to eliminate extraneous details. It gets right down to the essentials of producing a nonliteral, but visually complex, symbolic system that evokes an oracular, dreamlike state. Gibson’s use of the close-up, visually editing-out the details of the world, strengthens the fleeting, transient quality of his enigmatic settings. Gibson demonstrates that the gelatin silver print is capable of revealing a separate and distinct realm beyond empirical thinking, as his introduction to The Somnambulist states: “Clarity is

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© RALPH GIBSON. Untitled, n.d. (cover image of The Somnambulist, 1970.) Size varies. Gelatin silver print.

all any man seeks, this somnambulist merely finds his on the Other Side.”23 The publication of  Larry Clark’s (b. 1943)  Tulsa (1971) was an insider’s look into the nether world of drugs, guns, and sex without excuses or righteous statements. Working from his personal observation that “once the needle goes in it never comes out,”24  Clark indulges a viewer’s appetite for rebellion and voyeurism. Dispensing with conventional artifice and interjecting his own presence, Clark visually steers people through the

ritualized but despondently unromantic working-class underside of the permissive 1960s’ “Free Love Generation.” Clark continued to generate photographic tension by juxtaposing the erotic and the metaphysical. This can be seen in the chilling brutality and hopelessness of the low-life drug and gun world in his book  Teenage Lust  (1983) and his films such as  Kids  (1996) and  Wassup Rockers  (2006). These proclivities were carried over to the online world in which Clark set up a MySpace page (2008) in which the self-proclaimed

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Other self-published books, such as  Vagabond  (1975), by Gaylord Oscar Herron (b. 1942), also from Tulsa, expanded the autobiographical form by presenting the artist as an outsider in search of metaphysical understanding. Michael Lesy (b. 1945) revealed the subjective nature of historical investigations by showing viewers how historians are montage makers who assemble, edit, and juxtapose images and text to impose order and meaning on the chaos of human and natural events. The extension of this line of reasoning denies that the facts of any photo-essay can been seen as “the Truth.” Lesy appropriated turn-of-the-nineteenth-century images of smalltown America by a Wisconsin photographer, Charles J. Van Schaick (1852–1946), and combined them with bizarre news items from a local weekly newspaper of the period to create Wisconsin Death Trip (1973). Lesy’s montage, which received an enthusiastic reading, was structured entirely of quotations, unconcerned with the logic of observation, description, systematic analysis, or original intent. At a time when analyzing and criticizing (deconstruction) myths was a growing academic preoccupation in American Studies, Lesy fashioned a surrealistic psychohistory of a Midwestern American Dream revolving around pathological patterns of death, fear, and decline. Dwelling in the underworld of mental breakdowns, murder, sex, and suicide, Lesy undermined the notion that small-town America was an ideal, wholesome, anxiety-free home. At times the demarcation point between what is documentary and what is invention can be difficult to distinguish. Eugene Richards (b. 1944), a former Vista worker, made the photographs of his hometown for his book Dorchester Days (1978) throughout the 1970s. They are a dark, scrappy, diaristic chronicling of a working-class Boston neighborhood, whose residents show the consequences of being left out of the bountiful American Dream. His documentary approach measured authenticity by how deeply he

© LARRY CLARK. Untitled, 1971. 14 × 11 inches. Gelatin silver print COURTESY  Luhring Augustine, New York.

“punk Picasso” announced he would like to meet “women, punks, rebels, rockers, skaters, troublemakers.” In a 1992 interview Clark discussed how he came to his autobiographical approach: I know a story that no one’s ever told, never seen, and I’ve lived it. I would go back to Oklahoma and start photographing my friends. That’s when it snapped—I wanted to be a  storyteller, tell a story. Which I hate even to admit to now, because I hate photojournalism so badly.25

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© EUGENE RICHARDS. Mariella, East New York, NY, 1992. 20 × 24 inches. Gelatin silver print.

felt about the subjects he was involved with and photographed. Richards’s  Knife and Gun Club: Scenes from an Emergency Room  (1989) portrays the ER as a microcosm of society. Richards’s photographs were the antithesis of W Eugene Smith’s “Country Doctor” ethos that was published in Life (October 11, 1948), presenting an uncensored and sympatric view of the trauma of emergency medicine. One book review summed it up by saying, “There may be more emotion per square foot in such a place than anywhere else, and this extraordinary book captures that intensity.”26  Presently the ER community is helping to get it re-published because they “felt it was a most accurate depiction of their world in the early-to-mid-1980s.”27 In Cocaine True Cocaine Blue (1993) Richards coupled his images with the narrative voices of addicts and their families to provide a chillingly

distressing account of how addiction has scorched their lives. Nevertheless, Brent Staples, columnist and author of  Parallel Time: Growing Up in Black and White (1994), suggested that Richards was prolonging myths of “black depravity,” asking “why are nearly all of the people in these photographs black? The vast majority of drug addicts in America are white.”28  Staples raises the larger issue of the inherent inequality between subjects and photographers in such undertakings. He points out that: “When the culture focuses on black addiction alone, we miss the breadth of the danger and confine the problem to ‘those people’ over there.”29  This brings to the fore one of the difficulties of personal journalism, fueled as it is by individual concerns and passions. Richards addresses this point by stating in his response to Brent Staples’s book review:

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THE SNAPSHOT

Look, Cocaine True Cocaine Blue is quite obviously not a treatise on all drugs and drug users in America. It is not about a monthly snort of coke or casual marijuana use. From cover picture and title to the final paragraph, it is concerned with family- and neighborhood-destroying, racism-engendering,  hard-core cocaine addiction. But if numbers or body counts are what Mr. Staples will understand, then he must study the cold, hard statistics that conclude my letter. As for my personal method of working on this book, stupid or naive as this will sound to Mr. Staples, the last thing I noticed about the pregnant women smoking crack, the addicts dying after shooting up, the young girls prostituting themselves, the drug boys with automatic weapons or the mothers grieving for their dead children was their skin color. What I documented, what I want anyone who reads Cocaine True Cocaine Blue to see and be horrified by, is the waste of life.30

Many photographers thought the experiments of the 1960s had taken photography away from its vernacular roots and they wanted to reassess photography’s democratic nature as manifested in the snapshot.31 The attraction was the snapshot’s artless ability to directly communicate the vitality of our ordinary, personal, and communal affairs. A snapshot is not a manufactured episode but a record that can reveal the essence of a situation. Through a series of articles, interviews, and portfolios, Jonathan Green’s  The Snapshot  (1974) examines the nature of this form of photography and its relationship to contemporary artistic practice.32 Green declared: The word snapshot is the most ambiguous, controversial word in photography since the word art. It has been bandied about as both praise and condemnation. It has been discussed as both process and product. A snapshot may imply the hurried, passing glimpse or the treasured keepsake; its purpose may be casual observation or deliberate preservation. The snapshot may look forward in time to a chaotic, radically photographic structure, the appropriate equivalent of modern experience; or it may look backward to the frontal formal family portrait of a bygone age.33

Emmet Gowin  (b. 1941), one of the photographers featured in  The Snapshot, consciously incorporated the personal iconography of his life in the rural South with the “snapshot aesthetic” (see Chapter 16, The Social Landscape). Gowin concentrated on his immediate family and surroundings, doing extended portraits of his subjects, especially his wife in allegorical roles, like Madonna, mother, odalisque, prankster, and Venus, and tableaux of family groups. The actions of daily life take on a quixotic identity, while the injection of sensuality helps avoid sentimentality. Gowin considered this work, influenced by Cartier-Bresson and Robert Frank, to be his apprenticeship, a necessary

© EMMET GOWIN. Edith, Ruth and Mae, Danville, Virginia, 1971. 5 11⁄16 x 7¼ inches. Gelatin silver print. Gowin says: “My pictures are made as part of everyday life … with a camera on a tripod. In this situation, both the sitter and photographer become part of the picture. Sometimes my photographs resemble home snapshots, … but I always want to make a picture that is more than a family record. I feel that the clearest pictures were at first strange to me; yet whatever picture an artist makes, it is in part a picture of himself—a matter of identity.”34 COURTESY  Pace Gallery, New York.

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preparation that would help him find his own photographic voice documenting the dramatic contest between the powers of nature and culture.35  His search to “discover the inherent value that’s hidden in things that you haven’t yet seen”36 led Gowin into aerial landscapes that seek a balance between the real and the surreal, to reestablish his spiritual connectedness with nature. Like Gowin, Judy Dater (b. 1941) combined the intimacy of the snapshot with the formal structure of large-format interpretive portraiture. Her involvement in the developing women’s movement manifested itself in a group of theatrical, urban portraits whose premise was that a woman, rather than a man, looking at women would bring fresh insights and display a different range of attitudes and styles. Dater’s work rebelled against fashion’s exploitation of women through expensive, superficial accessories that encourage unrealistic standards of appearance. Her nudes did not exploit women’s sexuality but presented the women as being more at ease with their bodies. Often photographing her subjects in their own surroundings, Dater gave them leeway in determining the choice of costume and pose. In her work, women were not defined by their outfits but by the strength of their physical presence. One element of the snapshot, often lacking in serious imagemaking, is the recording of humorous events.37 The acceptance of life’s spontaneity and its ordinary subject matter into the 35mm aesthetic paved the way for humor-based photographers like Elliott Erwitt (b. 1928) and Burk Uzzle (b. 1938) to express their visual wit as a legitimate component of thoughtful imagemaking.  Bill Owens’s (b. 1938)  Suburbia  (1973), based on his work as a newspaper photographer for the Livermore, CA, Independent, parodies the suburban experience of abundance. Owens’s environmental portraits of Livermore residents (Owens lived there, too) were allegedly neutral, but his process of selection and the juxtaposing of these images with comments on

© BILL OWENS. Sunday Afternoon We Get It Together. I Cook the Steaks and My Wife Makes the Salad, circa 1970. 14 × 11 inches. Gelatin silver print. Owens wrote of his suburban experience: “The people I met enjoy the lifestyle of the suburbs. They have realized the American Dream. They are proud to be homeowners and to have achieved material success. To me nothing seemed familiar, yet everything was very, very familiar. At first I suffered from culture shock.”38 COURTESY  Bill Owens Archive.

“what the people feel about themselves”39  deliver a devastating examination of a place lacking a collective focus and a historic identity and a seeming detachment of larger societal issues, such as the discriminatory practice of red-lining, which limited those who could participate in this life-style.

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POST-STRUCTURALISM/ NEW TOPO GRAPHICS

City, Utah. Their strategy was to take the direct nineteenth-century view and use it  to conduct a clinically detached examination of an uncomfortable subject. They looked for banal, little, minimal things along the road, avoiding the dramatic, heroic, and transcendental displays of Ansel Adams, to convey a sense of loss, but perhaps also one of wonder. They rebuked the sublime as an insupportable ghost of the past and embraced the ordinary iconography of urban modernity. New Topographics practitioner Robert Adams (not related to Ansel) explained his position:

Post-structuralism, based on the work of three French structural theorists, psychoanalysts and philosophers, Jacques Derrida, Jacques Lacan, and Michel Foucault, informed the minimal and conceptual art movements of the 1970s. It posited that people are shaped by linguistic, psychological, and sociological structures over which we have no control, but which could be discovered by using the theory’s methods of investigation. The premise was that “texts,” whether words or images, are unstable and cannot be trusted, and that everything is a momentary construction without a fixed meaning or truth. Post-structuralism’s often elitist, jargon-filled writings countered the personal, emotion-filled work of the 1960s and rejected Western values as pointlessly transparent. It also served notice to historians and researchers that they must become aware of how their strategies affect the outcome of their research, even though it is impossible to move outside of a situation to do an objective study. Post-structuralists favored work that was emotionally detached and concerned with illusion and constructed reality. The approach of the “New Topographics” would bring some of these concerns to photographic practice.40 New Topographics  refers to the human-altered landscape that became a theme for photographers who sought a return to the nineteenth-century USGS landscape aesthetic yet without the romantic notions of the picturesque or the sublime. These photographers saw the once bountiful landscape as physically and spiritually depleted, with only finite potentialities remaining.41  To portray the drastic changes that had occurred to the landscape since the end of World War II, and to dispute the monumental myths of the enduring and lyrical American landscape, and often the American West, these imagemakers photographed the intersection where nature and culture collided, such as the development of subdivisions near the mountains in Park

To the extent that life is a process in which everything seems to be taken away, minimal landscapes are inevitably more, I think, than playgrounds for aesthetics. They are one of the extreme places where we live out with greater than usual awareness our search for an exception, for what is not taken away.42

The New Topographics’ ambivalent, highly structured, masculine approach also distanced their work from the poetic, pictorial expressionism of the 1960s. The viewers, like jurors in a courtroom, were expected to review the evidence and pass judgment.43 The difficulty was that ordinary onlookers did not necessarily understand the premises informing the work, and some photographers who did were not convinced by the work anyway.44 The minimalist stance of the New Topographics photographers made many images interchangeable with commercial commissions, further confusing the public. The exhibition New Topographics: Photographs of a Man-altered Landscape, curated by William Jenkins at George Eastman House in 1975, featured Robert Adams, Lewis Baltz, Bernd and Hilla Becher, Joe Deal, Frank Gohlke, Nicholas Nixon, John Schott, Stephen Shore, and Henry Wessel, Jr. (1942‒2018). Jenkins linked their “stylistic anonymity” to conceptual/minimalist artist Edward Ruscha’s (b. 1937) sardonic, stripped-down, without aesthetic pretension topographic books, such as  Twenty-Six

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LEWIS BALTZ. Construction Detail, East Wall, Xerox, 1821 Dyer Road, Santa Ana, from the series New Industrial Parks, 1974. 6 × 9 inches. Gelatin silver print. In a 1992 interview Baltz stated: “I was trying to find a vocabulary to mediate my sense of unspeakable horror at being born when and where I was. Coming from Orange County, I watched the ghastly transformation of this place—the first wave of bulimic capitalism sweeping across the land, next door to me. I sensed that there was something horribly amiss and awry about my own personal environment.”45 © Successors of Lewis Baltz. Used by permission. COURTESY  Galerie Thomas Zander, Cologne, Germany.

Gasoline Stations  (1962),  Some Los Angeles Apartments  (1965), and  Every Building on the Sunset Strip  (1966), which shun beauty, emotion, and Mother Nature in pursuit of a faithful, authorless, document-based pure technical description. As John Schott (b. 1944), who did a spare series conceptually linked to Ruscha entitled Route 66 Motels, said: “They are not statements about the world through art, they are statements about art through the world.”46  This subtle approach embodies the inconspicuous nuances of the human constructions

within the natural landscape, maintaining what Frank Gohlke (b. 1942) refers to as a “passive frame,” where “there is a sense of the frame having been laid on an existing scene without interpreting it very much.”47 Lewis Baltz’s (1945–2014) project  The New Industrial Parks near Irvine, California  (1974) is a dispassionate, minimalist social critique of the desolate and soulless man-made sites of the sprawling, urban/suburban landscape, void of preceding landscape conceptions that depicted buildings as

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© ROBERT ADAMS. Mobile Homes, Jefferson County, Colorado, 1973. 515⁄16 × 7½ inches. Gelatin silver print. COURTESY  Fraenkel Gallery, San Francisco, CA.

symbols of beauty and/or prosperity. Baltz claimed, “The ideal photographic document would appear to be without author or art.”48  Through the act of precise “Flaubertian” description, of finding just the right frontal vantage point, Baltz used blackand-white, geometric formalism to distance his subject matter, such as parking lots, office parks, and industrial garage doors, from the viewer while ordering and repossessing a bland, desolate subject. His sophisticated and unemotional disinterest

symbolically presented the corrosive, dehumanized, anywhere corporate warehouse space of the late twentieth century. Robert Adams (b. 1937), a former English professor, takes a literary approach to the “New West,” as site for the clash between nature and culture. This approach was based on the personalized New Journalistic critiques of American society, such as Truman Capote’s In Cold Blood (1966) and Norman Mailer’s The Executioner’s Song (1979), where tales

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THE REPHOTO GRAPHIC SURVEY PROJECT: TIME CHANGES

of heroic deeds were replaced with a senseless lack of respect for life. In The New West (1974) Adams recognizes that the grace, beauty, and order of the open American West has been overrun and damaged by the confusing commercial/consumer upheaval of freeways, strip malls, tract and trailer homes, and road signs. Adams uses a Western roadside scene strewn with waste as requiem to the romantic landscape tradition:

Between 1977 and 1979, the Rephotographic Survey Project (RSP), formed by  Mark Klett  (b. 1952), Ellen Manchester, JoAnn Verburg (b. 1950), Gordon Bushaw (b. 1947), and Rick Dingus (b. 1951), precisely rephotographed 122 nineteenth-century Western survey sites, like Mountain of the Holy Cross, CO, and Canyon de Chelly, AZ, that had been pictured a century before by USGSera Western photographers. After the coolness of the New Topographics, the RSP contrasted how nineteenth-century photographers saw the landscape with the unfolding interaction of human development and natural transformations over time. The project’s pairing of old and new images showed how photographs  can display and measure time. This method established a dualistic meaning of time and space, putting spectators into a time machine that permits them to glance between then and now. The group effort of doing “a survey of a survey” led RSP participant Verburg to reflect:

By Interstate 70: a dog skeleton, a vacuum cleaner, TV dinners, a doll, a pie, rolls of carpet… Later, next to the South Platte River: algae, broken concrete, jet contrails, the smell of crude oil… What I hope to document, though not at the expense of surface detail, is the Form that underlies this apparent chaos.49

While Eastman House curator William Jenkins claimed that the purpose of his  New Topographics  exhibition was “not to validate one category of pictures to the exclusion of others,”50 the ease with which the style could be feigned brought out an army of imitators.  New Topographics  also neatly dovetailed with John Szarkowski’s opinions about what a photograph should do and how a photograph was supposed to look, which he summed up in  Mirrors and Windows: American Photography since 1960  (1978). Szarkowski acknowledged “a fundamental dichotomy between those who think of photography as a means of private self-expression and those who think of it as a method of exploration relating to public concerns.”51  Szarkowski’s allegiance was with the latter who acted “as a trustworthy interpreter of events and issues he was privileged to witness.”52

Our representation of the West is less the result of what we noticed or preferred then [sic] of what we found— changed or not,—at predetermined vantage points. So, ironically our survey did what theirs [the original survey photographers] purported to do: to show the West without shaping it to our own artistic purposes.53

The RSP was indicative of a larger cultural interest in reassessing American values. Other photographers during this time took a different approach to re-entering the past. Bill Ganzel (b. 1949) did not replicate FSA pictures in his  Dust Bowl Descent (1984), but he revisited many of the same people and scenes that had been photographed during the original project, examining cultural changes and ways in which meaning is transformed by new contexts. Nicholas Nixon’s (b. 1947) yearly

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TIMOTHY H. O’SULLIVAN. Green River Buttes, Green River WY, 1872. 6¼ × 8½ inches. (plate 130) Albumen silver print. U.S. Geological Survey. PRINT COURTESY

Mark Klett.

Harry Ransom Humanities Research Center, The University of Texas at Austin.

© MARK KLET T and GORDON BUSHAW for the Rephotographic Survey Project. Castle Rock, Green River, WY, 1979. 6¼ × 8½ inches. Gelatin silver print. COURTESY  Harry Ransom

Humanities Research Center, The University of Texas at Austin.

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ritual of taking the same pose of his wife and her three sisters, allows small physical changes to take on larger psychological importance over time. This serial approach to time elevates private subjects into symbols of aging and change. In the early 1970s, Milton Rogovin (1909–2011) made a series of working-class people’s portraits near his neighborhood in Buffalo, NY. He returned to photograph the same people in the early 1980s and again in the 1990s. The results were published as  Triptychs: Buffalo’s Lower West Side Revisited  (1994) so that viewers could compare the photographs to see how  the people aged, changed, and endured over time. More recently, Douglas Levere’s (b. 1966) New York Changing  (2004) painstakingly replicates the images in Berenice Abbott’s  Changing New York  (1939), perhaps illuminating the age-old fact that the only constant is change itself. © MILTON ROGOVIN. Joe Kemp, Hanna Furnace, Buffalo, NY, from the series Working People, 1978–1979. Gelatin silver print. COURTESY  The Center for Creative Photography, Tucson, AZ.

EMERGENCE OF COLOR The experimental characteristic of the 1960s and 1970s saw the emergence of color from the commercial world into the realm of art. Previously only a few photographers, such as Ernst Haas, Helen Levitt, Eliot Porter, Arthur Siegel, and Saul Leiter or the only color “New Topographer,” Stephen Shore, could claim significant bodies of work in color. Associated with the garish and decorative ways of advertising, color had been deemed inappropriate for fine art photographers. As magazines ran more color and as color materials became less expensive, easier to use, and more permanent, an increasing number of photographers ignored the commercial stigma and ventured into this sphere. A cadre of photographers had built a fine art aesthetic of photography around black-and-white images. After World War II Kodak tried to encourage the artistic use of color materials by giving boxes of 8 × 10-inch Kodachrome to some of these

photographers like Edward Weston and Walker Evans who were extremely suspicious of color; they believed it exaggerated realism while diminishing expressiveness. Most remained unconvinced. As late as 1969 Walker Evans said: “These are four simple words which must be whispered: color photography is vulgar.”54 Shortly afterwards, Evans reversed course and began working with the Polaroid SX-70! saying it put all the responsibility on the photographer’s mind and eye, leaving nothing to be added by technique. By 1965 color, through movies and television, was omnipresent in American life, and for the first time both amateur and commercial photographers bought more color film than black-and-white. Color’s former drawbacks now became sought-after characteristics. In the spirit of the 1960s, color was seen as shattering photography’s traditions and meshing with the here and now on its own

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terms. The 1966 MoMA exhibition of soft, pastel 4 × 5-inch Polaroid images by Marie Cosindas (1923–2017) signaled Szarkowski’s willingness to unlock the door of high art to color. And by 1975, critic Max Kozloff would announce “The Coming to Age of Color” in Artforum magazine.55 In 1976, Szarkowski mounted a major exhibition of William Eggleston’s (b. 1939) work at MoMA that touched off arguments over color photography’s status in the art world. In the catalog, William Eggleston’s Guide  (1976), Szarkowski claimed the works were “perfect: irreducible surrogates”56  of understated, vernacular views about the social landscape of the New South. Often verging on the trivial, the enlarging of Eggleston’s personal “snapshots” into  lush dye-transfer prints, making them valuable art objects, exaggerated the mundane and

confronted onlookers with the insipid, ugly, existential emptiness of the contemporary American environment. Eggleston’s openness to the most insignificant subject matter, like a dog lapping water from a puddle, a nearly monochromatic inside view of a home oven, or an interior view of a kitchen freezer, gave the idea that anything could be photographed. His unpretentious approach, which presents nothing of substantial importance, found intriguing images in the obvious and was criticized as one of diminishing expectations, an epiphany of the banal, a declaration that there was nothing left to photograph. Many viewers were unwilling to elevate a mundane color snapshot to High Art. Art critic Hilton Kramer responded to Szarkowski’s claims by writing, “Perfect? Perfectly banal, perhaps. Perfectly boring, certainly.”57

© WILLIAM EGGLESTON Artistic Trust. Untitled (The Red Ceiling), Greenwood, MS, 1973. 13 7⁄8 × 2111⁄16 inches. Dye transfer print. Eggleston explains the challenge behind the neutral gaze and obvious subject matter of this photograph: “The Red Ceiling is so powerful that, in fact, I’ve never seen it reproduced on the page to my satisfaction. When you look at a dye-transfer print it’s like it’s red blood that is wet on the wall. The photograph was like a Bach exercise for me because I knew that red was the most difficult color to work with. A little red is usually enough, but to work with an entire surface was a challenge. It was hard to do. I don’t know of any totally red pictures, except in advertising. The photograph is still powerful. It shocks you every time.”58 When asked if he likes to talk about photography, Eggleston says: “Words and pictures don’t—they’re like two different animals. They don’t particularly like each other.”59

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In the afterword of The Democratic Forest (1989), whose title reflects the position that nothing is more or less important, Eggleston laments that the public only looks at his subject matter and not at how he has “seen” it, reminding us to pay attention to the everyday. Critics raise the point that people might not care for such pessimistic work because it affirms nothing but one individual’s idiosyncratic way of seeing. Photographers tend to conclude that such shortcomings of understanding are those of the audience and not the makers. Indirectly, Eggleston raises questions about the interpretation and response to images. Are these issues strictly problems for viewers or are they a shared concern, an interaction between makers and viewers, and what,

if any, responsibility do photographers have for educating their audience? The controversy surrounding Eggleston’s work became part of a full-scale discussion about color practice and its dramatic emergence in the 1970s as an acceptable artistic form as well as what one expect from a photograph. Can or should a photograph be expected to deliver on multiple fronts including aesthetically, conceptually, culturally, politically, and technically? The Eggleston exhibition officially welcomed other photographers, like  Stephen Shore  (b. 1947), whose color work was also shown at MoMA in 1976. Shore’s 8 × 10-inch color view camera images, which he began making in 1974, formally described familiar but people-less scenes within the

© STEPHEN SHORE. Beverly Boulevard and La Brea Avenue, Los Angeles, CA, June 21, 1975. 20 × 24 inches. Chromagenic color print. Stephen Shore says that a quote he likes comes close to explaining his attitude about taking photographs… “Chinese poetry rarely trespasses beyond the bounds of actuality… the great Chinese poets accept the world exactly as they find it in all its terms and with profound simplicity… they seldom talk about one thing in terms of another; but are able enough and sure enough as artists to make the ultimately exact terms become the beautiful terms.”60 COURTESY  Gallery 303, New York.

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human-altered landscape of the New Topographics style. His passive yet circumspect work, combining attractiveness, mundaneness, and paradox, found acceptance in Szarkowski’s schema by setting up a distilled atmosphere and spatial arrangement for contemplating this secular world with the maximum clarity, detail, and order. Shore’s contemplative but deadpan restraint, as seen in Uncommon Places (1982), subdues the easy, sensuous nature of the color palette and concentrates on the nuance of natural light and color upon the artifacts of street life without human presence through sophisticated pictorial configuration. Many of these everyday pictures serve as a precursor for social media sites, such as Instagram, in which Shore has been a participant.

The rethinking of color as a viable option for serious photography is evident in the work of Joel Meyerowitz  (b. 1938) as well. After watching Robert Frank work and realizing the gestural potential of the small camera, Meyerowitz left his career in advertising to become a black-and-whitestyle street photographer. By the late 1960s he used color for its additional descriptive qualities. In 1976 Meyerowitz began photographing with an 8 × 10-inch view camera around Cape Cod, Massachusetts, concerning himself with the ever changing aspects of sand, sky, and water. The publication of his popular  Cape Light  (1978) announced the shift from the split-second, jazzy black-and-white improvisations of 35mm street photography to the

© JOEL MEYEROWITZ. Bay/Sky, Provincetown, Massachusetts, 1977. 16 × 20 inches. Chromogenic color print. COURTESY  Howard Greenberg Gallery, New York.

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formal, contemplative, and descriptive qualities of a view camera and an orchestral color palette that most people could readily understand. Meyerowitz now lingered around a scene, waiting to record the subtle passages of light and time that slowly transformed the subject. His color prints stress a slower, more distant, romantic, sensuous response to luminous effect, the pure beauty of light, rather than the close, edgy, instantaneous reaction of the blackand-white street moment. Meyerowitz recalled the descriptive and suggestive qualities that led him to pursue color photography:

Groover’s precisely arranged still-lifes impart an impression of being in the present rather than in the past. Through her use of reflection and transparency, Groover fabricates a sensation of spatial ambiguity in which depth becomes inaccessible and observers experience a disruption of  figure-ground, the relationship between the subject and the background. The enlarging process further distorts reality by making commonplace objects, like kitchenware, slightly larger than life, giving them a sculptural personality that makes viewers reconsider the prosaic and everyday items that surround them. John Pfahl’s (1939–2020) Altered Landscapes: The Photographs of John Pfahl (1981), playfully uses the cyclopean vision of a view camera to reveal the synthetic nature of Renaissance pictorial theories of distance, perspective, and scale. Pfahl maintains an intellectual distance by combining the picturesque, nineteenth-century landscape with his own formal manipulation of scenes, from the exact vantage point of the camera, delivering a conflicting

When I committed myself to color exclusively, it was a response to a greater need for description … color plays itself  out along a richer band of feeling—more wavelengths, more radiance, more sensation… Color suggests more things to look at [and] it tells us more. There’s more content [and] the form for the content is more complex.61

Of late, Meyerowitz’s Aftermath (2006) provides a color archive of the ruins of Ground Zero and of those who assisted in the cleanup process after the attacks on the World Trade Center on September 11, 2001. Comparing Meyerowitz’s 2002 U.S. State Department-sponsored exhibition  After September 11  with that of Edward Steichen’s 1955  Family of Man  show, one critic has argued that both exhibitions “blurred the boundaries between art, information and propaganda.”62 Following her dictum that “formalism is everything,”63  Jan Groover’s (1943–2012) still-life arrangements proved popular with institutions, such as MoMA, that held on to formalism because it was familiar and understandable to their audiences and staffs. In reaction to the societal looseness of the 1960s, Groover empirically exercised control over color, composition, light, and space in her studio. “For me,” she stated, “the rules are how things go together.”64  The isolated spatial readability of the large format enabled her to create perceptual illusions that suspend normal photographic time.

© JOHN PFAHL. Great Salt Lake Angles, Great Salt Lake, Utah, October, 1977. 8 × 10 inches. Chromogenic color print. In his Altered Landscape series Pfahl playfully acted as a trickster by artfully placing humanmade objects in the landscape to make us question our perception about the believability of a photograph. COURTESY  Janet Borden Gallery, New York.

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© JOEL STERNFELD. McLean, Virginia, December, 1978. 16 × 20 inches. Dye transfer print. Often imbued with subtle irony, Joel Sternfeld continues the tradition of chronicling roadside America commenced by Walker Evans in the 1930s of exploring a collective American identity by documenting the vernacular. Here a fireman shops for a pumpkin as a house burns in the background. The orange pumpkins harmonize with the autumn countryside colors, and paradoxically with the flames of the fire. COURTESY  Luhring Augustine, New York.

message in a single image. Pfahl gives ironic colorful evidence of that which we believe cannot be so, humorously informing onlookers that all facts are conceptual and that visual truth is a matter of consensual agreement. Joel Sternfeld’s (b. 1944) cross-country pilgrimages in a Volkswagen camper are about reconciling issues of appearance and myth with the landscape. As seen in American Prospects (1987), Sternfeld uses an 8 × 10-inch camera to load detail into his color

documents with a tension caused by the intrusion of mundane human objects and the invasiveness of technology on the beautiful and sublime landscape. Sternfeld often relies on humor and juxtaposition to confront intriguing contradictions and incongruities that unmask the superficial and call attention to ordinary life. Mark Cohen’s (b. 1943) hard-hitting, close-up, flash 35mm images extended the formal sense of how a color photograph can look. Cohen’s physical

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© MARK COHEN. Boy in Yellow, 1976. 16 x 20 inches. Dye transfer print. When asked about the making of this picture Mark Cohen responded: “You can’t think up a picture like this without walking into it.”65 COURTESY

Howard Greenberg Gallery, New York.

interested in having to explain myself. I’m just using people on the street in the most transitory way… The trespass makes it happen.”67 These intentional encroachments get to the crux of the struggle, which began with the small handheld camera, between photographers who pursue images without permission and the subject’s right to privacy and ability to respond to an intrusion. Cohen’s incursions are about the power to control visual representation, the photographer’s ability to stealthily make pictures by surprise and capture the subject’s candid response that would not otherwise be possible.

intrusiveness disturbs society’s comfortable proximal distance to document private portions of a subject’s personal space. His hip level “grab shot” images of the goings on within an inner city neighborhood deliver undefended views that upset the rules about how photographs are made and how they appear. Cohen says: “If you have your camera up to your eye, you can’t keep track of what’s going on. By holding my camera down here”—he gestures to his waist—“I can suddenly take pictures.” Cohen is not looking for detached observations but active engagements with strangers that are brazenly uncivil and can produce social embarrassment and confrontation.66 “There’s no conversation,” he says. “I’m not

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© KEITH SMITH. Book Number 15, Janson’s History of Art, Revised, 1970. 11 3⁄8 x 8 7⁄8 × 2 inches. Unique artist book with collage. Smith recalls, “Book Number 15 was my first artist book to begin with an existing book and alter it, then call it my own. This work was influenced by Robert Rauschenberg who in 1953 erased a drawing given to him Willem de Kooning and signed it as his own. I wanted to approach the making artists’ books in as many different approaches as I could think of to broaden my definition of what I could label as a ‘book.’ I hand bound full leather blank books, and imaged them after they were bound. One was imaged with fire, one with an electric drill, and another by tearing holes into the pages. Conceptual art brought me to make books that were nothing more than a sheet of paper with a few paragraphs of text describing a book that only existed as mental images gleaned from the text.” 68 COURTESY  Bruce Silverstein Gallery, New York.

ARTISTS ’ BO OKS

and to encourage more people to make art.69 They did not think commercial galleries and museums should be the arbitrators for determining the value of art nor did they think one needed to be educated to understand art. Their activities can be linked with a new interest in the book format. During the 1970s, artists’ books became a way for imagemakers to control production and costs, deliver their work to an audience in context, and express concepts too complex for a single image. Artists’ books used autobiography, narrative, and humor to deal with the rising pluralistic concerns of women and minorities that surfaced in the 1960s.70 One art historian described the changing art world of that period as “A New Pluralism.” 71

At the same time the formal physical concerns of photographic practice were being addressed by many photographers, other artists were examining photography’s cultural contexts, intertextuality, and intermediality (the study of relationship between media). Lew Thomas’s  Photography and Language  (1976) used the work of over thirty artists to investigate the interrelationships of images and text to understand how they cite, influence, and structure one another. During the 1960s, members of the loose international Fluxus group worked to integrate life into art by means of found events, sounds, and  materials to make art more accessible

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© PETER H. BEARD. Serengeti Lion, 1984/2006. 50¼ × 69 3⁄8 inches. Gelatin silver print with blood and ink. COURTESY  Art + Commerce, New York.

Artists set up independent presses, like Joan Lyons’s (b. 1937) Visual Studies Workshop Press in Rochester, NY, to publish works by other artists.72  Keith Smith (b. 1938), who studied at the Institute of Design and made work at VSW, produced over a hundred artists’ books, featuring an interactive use of materials that took the medium beyond its factual realm as well as numerous instructional texts on bookmaking. Scott Hyde (1926–2022) worked directly from color separations so that every image in his offset, photolithograph books and journals was an “original.” Canadian Michael Snow’s (b. 1929)  Cover to Cover  (1975) investigated the nature of the book, the concept of the sequence, the act of picturing, and the process of perception. In a world that has witnessed a steady decline in the role of animals and continuing extinctions of

certain animal species due to humanity’s territorial expansion and pollution, Peter H. Beard’s (1938– 2020) African Diaries (1978) juxtaposed a tapestry of collaged newspaper clippings, Polaroid SX-70s, snake  skins, and handprints made from his own blood with images of fashion, indigenous culture, and wild animals to tell “secrets” about his adopted home in Kenya. Beard’s foot-high memento scrapbooks reveal the diversity of the book form in terms of object, image, text and its ability to transform the personal into a shared experience that reminds us of the important connections between the animal and human kingdoms. Combined with his earlier photo-essay,  The End of the Game  (1965), Beard’s work helped replace the high-powered firearms safaris with high-tech camera safaris to Africa’s wildlife sanctuaries.

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RECONFIGURING INFORMATION

camera work, and Linda Connor’s (b. 1944) old 8 × 10-inch view camera with a soft-focus lens. Curator Howard Kaplan wrote:

Nancy Rexroth’s (b. 1946) nonlinear memory book, Iowa (1977), which includes her photographs made with a Diana camera,73 and Pinhole Resource Founder Eric Renner’s (1941–2020) use of pinhole cameras both dispute the modernist presumption that equates image sharpness with quality of information. The toy Diana camera achieved cult status among photographers for being noncommercial and nonconformist. Its cheap plastic construction made it notorious for producing light leaks and guaranteed low image resolution.  The Less Than Sharp Show  (1977) demonstrated how a variety of practices could “relax the veracity issue of a photographic image.” The exhibition featured an array of eccentric approaches that disassembled image clarity, including Gary Hallman’s (b. 1940) use of flash during long exposures, Bea Nettles’s Kodak Instamatic

The less than sharp image facilitates the viewing of the photograph for its intrinsic value as a photograph, as opposed to a document of what once existed… Being spared much of the hard edge content associations, the viewer can now focus on other aspects of the photographic image… The new content may now be quite loaded so as to provoke quite different associations/ experiences from it.74

Ruth Thorne-Thomsen’s (b. 1943) poetic Expeditions  (1976–1984) combine collage aesthetic expectations based on nineteenth-century travel pictures and pinhole images with handmade miniature props to construct false historical landscapes. The softness of the pinhole distorts one’s perception of time and scale, allowing viewers to become surreal, dreamlike voyagers into the personal and mythological archetypes of their subconscious, or into what the artist herself describes as an “environmental collage.” Photographers taking camera equipment into the night also overturned historic landscape traditions. Roger Mertin (1942–2001) and Richard Misrach applied flash to distort and prolong time. Steve Fitch’s (b. 1949) night images in  Diesels and Dinosaurs  (1976) string together a progression of nocturnal illuminations, adding mystery to banal American road culture. Robert Hirsch’s (b. 1949) outdoor, nighttime flashes, printed on nonconventional materials  including Kodalith and other graphic arts papers, disturbed conventional print values and expanded the sense of the 35mm frame by incorporating additional movement and time during the printing process. This was part of a haptic, or kinesthetic, approach that actively incorporated the photographer into the entire picturemaking process. Such approaches, encompassing numerous alternative methods like hand-coloring, enlarger

© RUTH THORNE-THOMSEN. Head with Plane, IL, 1979. 4 × 5 inches. Toned gelatin silver print. Thorne-Thomsen worked extensively with a pinhole camera and paper negatives to realize soft-focus effects. She often integrated handmade miniature props into her compositions to construct mythic tableaux that surrealistically conjure forms and fragments from antiquity. COURTESY  Laurence Miller Gallery, New York.

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© DAVID LEVINTHAL. Untitled, from Hitler Moves East, 1976. 8 × 10 inches. Gelatin silver (Kodalith) print. Levinthal tells us: “I discovered Kodalith while I was taking courses at Rochester Institute of Technology in 1970. I used it because it was the antithesis of the Zone System aesthetic. Kodalith printing was done by eye and I loved the tonality and the inky dark shadows it delivered. When I was at Yale, Walker Evans and Paul Caponigro were teaching there. The students were using 8 x 10-inch Deardorff cameras and making beautifully over matted prints. When I showed them my Kodalith prints there was dead silence, except for Linda Connor, who was there as a visiting artist and said they were wonderful. Linda’s encouragement was my nudge to continue on this path.” 75

movement, appropriated images, and toning, destabilized the orthodox photographic rendition of the landscape and often injected a feeling of estrangement and separation from nature. David Levinthal (b. 1949) and cartoonist Garry Trudeau collaborated to produce Hitler Moves East: A Graphic Chronicle, 1941–43 (1977), re-representing World War II battle scenes from the eastern front using miniature studio sets and selected archival materials, which were also printed on graphic arts paper (Kodalith) not intended for pictorial purposes. These small atmospheric tableaux, based on actual visual models, utilize the historical illusionism of documentary war images to narrate and

make the past accessible. Levinthal has continued to mine these fabricated tabletop landscapes in books that examined Modern Romance (1985), The Wild West  (1993),  Mein Kampf  (1996), and most recently  History  (2015) and War, Myth, Desire (2018). The images strike at the genuineness of photographic meaning while remaining believable, enabling viewers to crisscross between their imagination and reality. Levinthal has said that his tiny scenes “were mirrors of society’s image of itself, much like Norman Rockwell paintings for the  Saturday Evening Post. Play sets [that] reinforced the popular culture and beliefs and stereotypes of America.” 76

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AFTER THE BOMB: JAPANESE PHOTOBO OKS

with handheld cameras, think sequentially, and to favor bold, grainy, high-contrast, wide-angle images that reproduced well in ink instead of fine art, silver prints with their long, subtle tonal ranges favored in the West. The book format also directed deliberation about how best to present the images in a serial format including design, printing, and text. This broadened the creation process from a solitary activity into a group experience that required different skill sets. Collectively, these photographers reflect the experimental cross-fertilization of the 1960s and a golden age for the photographic book as a means of controlling the context of one’s images, expanding the photographic vocabulary, and reaching a larger audience outside of the traditional fine arts venues.78 Shōmei Tōmatsu  (1930–2012) was a founding member of the VIVO collective (1959) that

On August 6th and 9th 1945, the United States Army Air Forces dropped atomic bombs on Nagasaki and Hiroshima, which finally brought World War II to a close and drastically restructured Japanese society under American Military Occupation (1945–1952).77  As Japan slowly recovered, Japanese photographers moved away from the Western pictorial and modernist approaches and began experimenting with new ways of portraying the postwar themes of downfall, desolation, disgrace, and military occupation. The photo book became the prevalent mode of dissemination, as opposed to the gallery wall, because Japan’s museums did not collect photographs  at that time. Working in the book format led Japanese photographers to operate

© SHŌMEI TŌMATSU. Kataoka Tsuyo, 1961. 19¼ × 10¾ inches. Gelatin silver print. Kataoka Tsuyo was disfigured after being less than one mile from the epicenter of the Nagasaki atomic bomb blast on August 9, 1945. COURTESY  Taka Ishii Gallery, New York.

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wanted to pursue “new subjectivity,” depicting reality based on close personal observation, and went on to establish the Shaken publishing company in 1967. Tōmatsu’s iconography examined the aftermath of the atomic bomb, the U.S. military presence, and the problems brought about by Westernization. His confrontational and intensely subjective photographs cast aside photojournalistic customs and greatly affected the practices of the younger generation of Japanese photographers. Tōmatsu declared: “My photographs are absolutely not photojournalism… in order to prevent the hardening of photography’s arteries, I believe we should drive off the evil spirits that haunt ‘photojournalism’ and destroy the existing concepts carried by those words.”79  His book,  Nagasaki 11:02, August 9, 1945  (1966), tragically references the dropping of an atomic bomb on Nagasaki and metaphorically

presents survivors, such as a lovely woman, whose face has been disfigured by keloid scars, juxtaposed with a melted beer bottle that conjures up a fetus. Tomatsu’s sardonic depiction of the American military bases during the 1970s, featuring smirking soldiers, Japanese prostitutes, and Coca-Cola bottles, was collected and republished as  Chewing Gum and Chocolate  (2014) as his critique about Americanization. Eikoh Hosoe (b. 1933), also a founding member of the VIVO collective, is an experimental Japanese photographer known for his psychologically charged  images that examine themes of the flesh, demise, sexual obsession, and ritual. Influenced by William Klein, who used the VIVO darkroom when he was working in Japan, Hosoe actively manipulated his materials to discover his own surreal manner that attacked the dominant realistic

© EIKOH HOSOE. Ordeal by Roses (Barakei) #32, 1961. 14 × 11 inches. Gelatin silver print. Eikoh Hosoe stated: “To me photography can be simultaneously both a record and a mirror or window of self-expression. The camera is generally assumed to be unable to depict that which is not visible to the eye and yet, the photographer who wields it well can depict what lies unseen in his memory.” 80 COURTESY  Howard Greenberg Gallery, New York.

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style of Ken Domon (1909–1990), known for his photographs of the Hiroshima survivors and later of Buddhist temples. Hosoe’s gritty, high-contrast, blatantly sexual images in Man and Woman (1959) conceived disconcertingly spatial compositions that dispensed with detail to explore the primal yet enigmatic interpersonal relationships. With the avant-garde writer and political reactionary Yukio Mishima as his model, Hosoe constructed a series of theatrical, emotionally charged black-and-white images dealing with the male body, Barakei/Ordeal by Roses  (1963) that broke cultural and photographic boundaries.81  In 1995, Hosoe became the first director of the Kiyosato Museum of Photographic Arts. Daidō Moriyama (b. 1938) worked as an assistant to Eikoh Hosoe who shared an office with Shōmei Tōmatsu. Moriyama became known for his

blurry, contrasty, and grainy work in Provoke magazine (1964), which disclosed the seedy side of urban life that had been left behind by Western-style industrialization. Known for his dictum, “Make the camera your slave,” Moriyama’s practice concentrated on capturing the photographic moment as an expression of himself. The application of this maxim can be seen in his predilection for his devising a strong narrative element in his books that suggests action, which has happened or is about to happen, and establishes an evocative, dynamic, and darkly visceral street photography aesthetic. His brick-sized book, Shinjuku (2002), wordlessly presents hundreds of photographs made in Tokyo, often made at unusual angles, that “vividly exhibits all the shadiness, toughness, and considerable disconsolateness that a city has, like a truly unfathomable mathematical functional relationship, like

© DAIDŌ MORIYAMA Misawa, 1971. “I photographed this stray dog in Misawa City in 1971. I was just stepping out of a hotel onto the street when the dog passed in front of me. It was a chance encounter and I photographed it. Since that time, the stray dog has been following me in my mind. The image made a strong impression on many people. When people think of my work, they think of that photograph.” COURTESY  Luhring Augustine Gallery, New York, Taka Ishii Gallery, Tokyo, and Daido Moriyama Photo

Foundation, Tokyo.

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a modern Babylon.”82  Moriyama has produced an extensive body of work including over 150 books that intermixes photographs, theoretical texts, and unusual printing techniques as well as art installations and performance pieces, plus he has written a memoir titled Memories of a Dog (2004). Nobuyoshi Araki  (b. 1940) is an incredibly prolific photographic diarist who believes “life is itself photography,” and lives to quickly and directly capture all that he encounters in life. Araki has published hundreds of books starting with his Xeroxed Photo Albums  (1970), which he produced in limited editions that he sent to art critics, friends, and people selected randomly from the telephone book. He is known for Sentimental Journey (1971) and Winter Journey (1991), visual diaries of his life with his wife Aoki Yoko, who died of ovarian cancer in 1990 and his sexually explicit work of the Japanese sex industry, such as Tokyo Lucky Hole (1985), which led to him being arrested several times for breaking Japanese obscenity laws. Additionally, his jarring, politically incorrect, female bondage images have caused many women’s groups to call him  a misogynist, sexist pornographer, who is obsessed with degrading fetishistic rituals. A collection of these photographs has been published as  Nobuyoshi Araki: Bondage (2012) and raises the questions: where is the line between art and pornography and how much of his work follows the Japanese tradition of Shunga?83  An admirer of this printed art form, Araki’s explicit images operate along the displacement and fractures of Japanese culture—a place between the cloistered and the communal and the refined and the outrageous. His images are appreciated in western society for the erotic excitement they provoke, yet are offensive for those unacquainted with Japanese society. In any case, Araki’s photographs can be both externally disturbing while acting as intellectual creations that perk our imagination about the multifaceted aspects of human sexuality.

© NOBUYOSHI ARAKI. 67 Shooting Back (#159), 2007. 60 × 40 inches. Chromogenic color print. Araki tells us, “I’d like to take photos similar to shunga, but I haven’t reached that level yet. There is bashfulness in shunga. The genitals are visible, but the rest is hidden by the kimono. In other words, they don’t show everything. They are hiding a secret.” Simon Baker, curator of photography at the Tate sums it: “It’s about the double standard associated with Japanese culture. It’s an incredibly polite, formal society on the surface, [but it] has this hidden underside of sexuality. Araki very effectively works on this relationship.”84 COURTESY  Yoshii Gallery, New York.

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EXPANDING MARKETS

The expansion of photographic practice in the early 1970s resulted in the establishment of a new generation of commercial galleries, such as Lee D. Witkin’s Witkin Gallery (1969–1999) and Light Gallery (1971–1987) in New York, and museum programs, including the Friends of Photography (1967–2001), whose legacy is the Center for Photographic Art (1988), the California Museum of Photography (1973), the International Center of Photography (1974), the Center for Creative Photography (1975), and the Chicago Center for Contemporary Photography (1976), succeeded by the Museum of Contemporary Photography (1984), all dispensing photography to a wider audience. High school, college, and university photography courses continued to expand, giving rise to record numbers of people earning Master of Fine Arts degrees in photography. The university scene connected photography to the art gallery world, enabling a few, select imagemakers to support themselves by selling their work. New York gallery interest led photography into the art auction market, which intensely raised the price of historical photographs. Prices  for both historical and contemporary photographs continue to expand beyond the economic gains of the first decades of twenty-first century as photography has fully established its place in the art commercial world.

U.S. government funding from the National Endowment for the Arts (NEA) sparked artistic growth in the 1970s. Created in 1965 as a tiny part of President Johnson’s Great Society program, the NEA made its first grant to an individual photographer, Bruce Davidson, in 1968. The agency set up a special category for Photographer’s Fellowships in 1971, giving recognition to photography as an independent art form. All individual NEA fellowships were discontinued in 1996, partly due to the controversies surrounding Robert Mapplethorpe and Andres Serrano’s photographs. In 1972, the NEA began its Workshop Program to fund the first generation of “artist-run” spaces, which led to the founding of other not-for-profit spaces. The following year, the NEA established grant categories for Photography Exhibitions and Publications, enabling museums and alternative spaces to produce their own projects and literature. NEA funding encouraged the formation of state art councils and the giving of private matching donations, which helped artist-run spaces expand and achieve a limited degree of stability.85  Artist-run spaces are creation and presentation sites for new artists and their ideas, sites that continue to play a pivotal role in maintaining the vital and experimental outlook of American photographic practice, providing a flexible and meaningful alternative to the more rigid framework of commercial galleries and large museums. These spaces provide outlets that champion diversity and broaden the scope of artistic and critical practice. The success of such initiatives can be seen along Interstate 90 in central and western New York, an essential photographic corridor that has been a focus of alternative activities and currently is home to Visual Studies Workshop in Rochester (founded 1969), Light Work in Syracuse (1973), and CEPA (Center for Exploratory and Perceptual Art) in Buffalo (1974).86

CRITICAL WRITING The 1970s witnessed a wave of republished works, such as The Literature of Photography: An Arno Press Collection  (1973), which included sixty-two classic volumes on aesthetic, historical, scientific, and technical aspects of photography. Barbara London and John Upton’s  Photography  (1976), based on the Life Library of Photography (1970–1972), provided an opportunity for teachers to break out of the mechanical, manual mentality of instruction by

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linking ideas to technique and by providing readers with stimulating visual examples. William Crawford’s  Keepers of the Light: A History and Working Guide to Early Photographic Processes (1979) became the go-to source for those wanting to learn both the history and the practical application of numerous nonsilver photographic processes. Such books were the beginning of a trend that broke away from the traditional dull technical manuals, such as the Kodak Data books, by merging imaginative photographic examples with the technical instruction. The 1970s saw a widening of photography’s intellectual base with the founding of publications such as Visual Studies Workshop’s  Afterimage  (1972) and the Friends of Photography’s  Untitled  quarterly series (1972–2018) and now published by University of California Press, and the evolution of SPE’s  exposure  into a critical journal (circa 1973). The editorial policies of  Afterimage  and  exposure gave voice to feminist and lesbian theorists, such as Catherine Lord, Jan Zita Grover, and Deborah Bright.87 A. D. Coleman began to write serious photography reviews for the general public in the Village Voice (1968–1973) and The New York Times (1970– 1974).88  Additional voices included Marxist critic John Berger’s Ways of Seeing (1972), which critiqued Western capitalist art as a symbol of ownership and a demonstration of male power. Allan Sekula and Martha Rosler also wrote Marxist and feminist political critiques for Artforum89 and exposure.90 The 1973 publication by the New York Review of Books of Susan Sontag’s (1933–2004) critical essay about the nature of photography, later expanded and revised as  On Photography  (1977), initiated a serious intellectual dialogue from within the practice and the community of arts and letters. In spite of her sharp critique of the medium, Sontag related how viewing photographs of Nazi concentration camps changed her own life:

plausible to me to divide my life into two parts, before I saw those photographs (I was twelve) and after … something broke…. I felt irrevocably grieved, wounded, but a part of my feelings started to tighten; something went dead; something is still crying.91

The experience shaped her belief that the camera is sold as a predatory weapon… To photograph people is to violate them, by seeing them as they never see themselves, by having knowledge of them they can never have; it turns people into objects that can be symbolically possessed. Just as the camera is a sublimation of the gun, to photograph someone is a sublimated murder—a soft murder.92

Sontag’s distressed response to these horrific images led her to later argue that photography desensitizes its audience. Although numerous photographers and critics were upset by Sontag’s claims, based on an educated sensibility from outside the field rather than a research methodology from within the practice, her writing raised fundamental philosophical questions facing the medium. Ultimately, many of Sontag’s assertions were refuted, even by the author herself in On the Pain of Others  (2003). No other book about photography has been so hotly analyzed and discussed from so many competing standpoints. There was renewed interest in the critical and theoretical writings of Walter Benjamin, to whom Sontag paid homage in the last chapter of  On Photography, and to Roland Barthes’s  Camera Lucida  (1980), which responded in part to Sontag. Camera Lucida serves both as a deeply personal investigation into the nature of photography and a reflection on death, a grieving eulogy for his late mother, by advancing Barthes’s dual concepts of studium and punctum. The studium signified the public’s cultural, linguistic, and political understanding of a photograph, while the punctum represents the personal connection one has with the subject

Nothing I have seen—in photographs or in real life— ever cut me as sharply, instantaneously. Indeed, it seems

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being depicted, thereby establishing that meaning is subjective. Influential too was Derrida’s concept of  deconstruction, that is, the recognition and appreciation of the unstable and shifting—even contradictory— qualities of language and argumentation, qualities underlying our spoken and unspoken, explicit and implicit assumptions, concepts, and frameworks, all of which form (and deform or deconstruct) our thoughts and beliefs.93 As we shall see, this exposing and tearing down of any arbitrary construction of reality began to appear in a photographic context in works by John Baldessari, Sherrie Levine, and Richard Prince (see Chapter 18). These writings forecast the rise of  postmodern criticism  and the rejection of the notion of originality in a society that ceaselessly recycles ideas and images, as espoused by Rosalind Krauss, Craig Owens, and Douglas Crimp in the late 1970s in the journal  October.94  The collective effect of these endeavors was a broadening of the practice of photography to include a greater diversity of approaches and voices, particularly those of women, LGBTQ+, and minority imagemakers, or “the Other,” challenging power relationships between photographers and subjects and challenging how viewers see and understand these associations.

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American law enforcement considered the SLA to be the first left-wing American terrorist organization. http://www.moca.org/kaprow/index.php/2008/07/ 14/an-archive-of-happenings/ Uelsmann, Bunnell, and Carl Chiarenza began a lifelong friendship while attending Rochester Institute of Technology. Uelsmann and Chiarenza received their BFA in 1957 and Bunnell earned his BFA in 1959. Many artists who lived, studied, and worked in Rochester during the late 1960s and early 1970s fanned out and carried these concepts across the country. Cartier-Bresson’s “Introduction” to The Decisive Moment  (1952) and Szarkowski’s “Introduction” to The Photographer’s Eye  (1966) have both been reprinted in Andrew

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E. Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory: An Historical Anthology  (Boston, MA and Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell, 2014), 188–91 and 226–31 respectively. See Mary Statzer, ed.,  The Photographic Object 1970 (University of California Press, 2016). See William Jenkins’s “Introduction” to New Topographics: Photographs of a Man-altered Landscape  (1975) reprinted in Hershberger, ed.,  Photographic Theory, 235–38. Among other critiques of Jenkins’s writing and exhibition, see Gretchen Garner, “New Metaphorics: Spirit and Symbol in Contemporary Landscape Photography” (1988) reprinted in Hershberger, ed., 219–23. Kathleen McCarthy Gauss, Inventories and Transformations: The Photographs of Thomas Barrow (Albuquerque, NM: University of New Mexico Press, 1986), 120. For an early summary of his Bauhaus theory of photography, see Moholy-Nagy, “Light: A Medium of Plastic Expression” (1923), reprinted in Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 130–31. William Larson, letter to author, February 12, 1999. Carl Chiarenza, “Eye and Mind: The Seriousness of Wit,” in Lynne Warren, Kenneth Josephson (Chicago, IL: Museum of Contemporary Art, 1983), 7. During the Italian Renaissance, artists such as Leonardo da Vinci and Leon Battista Alberti described the images they saw inside camera obscuras as something like natural pictures or “how the world is and what a picture is supposed to look like.” For excerpts of their writings and for more recent texts engaging the ongoing debates about camera images, vision, and Renaissance linear perspective, see Hershberger, ed.,  Photographic Theory, 17–18, 24–28, and passim. Christopher Borrelli, “Kenneth Josephson: The Chicagoan who pioneered the selfie,” Chicago Tribune, Apr 20, 2018, www.chicagotribune.com/entertainment/ ct-ae-kenneth-josephson-photo-mca-0422-story.html Ralph Eugene Meatyard, with texts by Jonathan Greene, et al., The Family Album of Lucybelle Crater (Millerton, NY: Jargon Society, 1974), 73. See A. D. Coleman, The Grotesque in Photography (New York: Ridge Press/Summit Books, 1975). Coleman has also borrowed and cited Krims’s phrase “anti-decisive moment” as a “credo” for all photographers working in what Coleman calls the “directorial mode.” Krims’s “anti-decisive moment” obviously positions him in opposition to Cartier-Bresson’s well-known and even standard theory of photography as the “decisive moment.” See Cartier-Bresson’s “Introduction” to  The Decisive

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Moment (1952) and Coleman’s “The Directorial Mode: Notes Toward a Definition” (1976) reprinted in Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 188–91 and 276–83 respectively. In 1971, when Krims’s photographs were included in the  1971 Photography Invitational Exhibition  at Memphis Academy of Art (now Memphis College of Art) in Memphis, TN, a disturbed person kidnapped the son of an adjunct humanities faculty member and held him hostage, demanding among other things, that Krims’s pictures be removed, which they were and the boy was released unharmed. See Michael Finger, “Art Attack,”  Memphis Magazine, November 2009, www. memphismagazine. com/November-2009/Art-Attack Robert Hirsch,  Transformational Imagemaking: Handmade Photography Since 1960  (New York and London: Focal Press, 2014), 78. Peter C. Bunnell, “Leslie Krims,” Aperture, vol. 13, no. 3 (1967), 30. Email with Les Krims and author on June 28, 2015. Also see the exhibition In Edition: Books, Prints & Multiples from the 1960s & 1970s at: http://weatherspoon.uncg. edu/exhibitions/show/?title=in-edition-books-printsmultiples-from-the-1960s-1970s See De Clarke, “The Incredible Case of The Stack o’ Prints Mutilations,” 1980, http://www.nostatusquo. com/ACLU/Porn/Wheats2.html Peter Schjeldahl, “The Wizard in the Tower,” in  Lucas Samaras (New York: Pace/MacGill Gallery, 1991), unp. Lucas Samaras,  Samaras Album  (New York: Whitney Museum/Pace Editions, 1971), 9. The Lustrum line featured Danny Seymour’s  A Loud Song (1971), Robert Frank’s The Lines of My Hand (1972), Larry Clark’s  Tulsa  (1971), as well as instructional books such as Darkroom, Darkroom II, SX-70, Contact Theory, Landscape Theory, and Nude: Theory. In addition, Lustrum published Gibson’s dreamlike trilogy of photo-novels  The Somnambulist  (1970),  Deja-Vu  (1973), and Days at Sea (1974). Ralph Gibson, The Somnambulist (New York: Lustrum Press, 1970), unp. Larry Clark, preface, Tulsa (New York: Lustrum Press, 1971), unp. Larry Clark,  Flash Art, May/June 1992, quoted in Brooks Johnson,  Photography Speaks II  (New York: Aperture/The Chrysler Museum of Art, 1995), 106. Ralph Novak et al.,”Picks and Pans Review: The Knife and Gun Club,” People, vol. 31, no. 23 ( June 12, 1989) www

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people.com/people/archive/article/0,,20120505,00. html Email between Eugene Richards and the author, April 6, 2016. Brent Staples, “Coke Wars,”  The New York Times Book Review, Sunday, February 6, 1994, 11–12. Ibid. Eugene Richards, Letter to the Editor,  The New York Times, March 6, 1994, www.nytimes.com/1994/03/06/ books/lcocaine-true-cocaine-blue-674893.html See Catherine Zuromskis,  Snapshot Photography: The Lives of Images (Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press, 2012). The Snapshot  included work by Emmet Gowin, Henry Wessel, Jr., Tod Papageorge, Joel Meyerowitz, Nancy Rexroth, Garry Winogrand, Lee Friedlander, and Robert Frank. Jonathan Green, Introduction, The Snapshot (Millerton, NY: Aperture, 1974), 3. Emmet Gowin, Emmet Gowin: Photographs (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1976), 100. See Sally Gall, “Emmet Gowin,”  Bomb 58  (Winter, 1997), 21. Ibid. For an early history of this genre see Heinz K. Henisch and Bridget A. Henisch,  Positive Pleasures: Early Photography and Humor  (University Park, PA: The Pennsylvania State University Press, 1998). Bill Owens,  Suburbia  (San Francisco, CA: Straight Arrow Books, 1973), unp. Ibid. See William Jenkins, Introduction to  New Topographics  (1975), in Hershberger, ed.,  Photographic Theory, 235–38. The photographers of the “New Topographics” were working in the same arena as eclectic postmodern architect Robert Venturi, whose book  Learning from Las Vegas (1972) emphasizes the validity of American roadside strip building and advertising. Robert Adams, “In the Nineteenth-Century West” in Why People Photograph (New York: Aperture, 1994), 148–49. In terms of popular culture, the New Topographics mission can be summed up by the Dragnet TV character, Joe Friday, played by the deadpan Jack Webb, who was always instructing witnesses to deliver “just the facts.” Among other critiques of Jenkins’s writing and exhibition, see Deborah Bright, “Of Mother Nature and Marlboro Men: An Inquiry into the Cultural Meanings

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of Landscape Photography” (1985), and Gretchen Garner, “New Metaphorics: Spirit and Symbol in Contemporary Landscape Photography” (1988), both reprinted in Hershberger, ed.,  Photographic Theory, 302–9 and 219–23 respectively. Cathy Curtis, “The Wasteland: The world of photographer Lewis Baltz lies just beyond the city, where he records bleak images of the American West.”  Los Angeles Times, March 29, 1992, http:// articles.latimes.com/1992–03–29/entertainment/ ca-372_1_photographer-lewis-baltz. John Schott quoted by William Jenkins, Introduction,  New Topographics: Photographs of a Man-altered Landscape  (Rochester, NY: George Eastman House, 1975), 5. This text has been reprinted in Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 235–38; Schott’s line on p. 236. William Jenkins,  New Topographics, 5, in Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 236 Lewis Baltz quoted in New Topographics, p. 6, in Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 237, from review of The New West by Robert Adams, in Art in America, vol. 63, no. 2 (March/April 1975), 41. Robert Adams,  New Topographics, 7, in Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 238. William Jenkins, New Topographics, 7, in ibid. John Szarkowski, Mirrors and Windows: American Photography since 1960 (New York: The Museum of Modern Art, 1978), 11. Ibid. JoAnn Verburg, “Between Exposures,” in Mark Klett, et al., Second View: The Rephotographic Survey Project (Albuquerque, NM: University of New Mexico Press, 1984), 10. Quoted in Louis Kronenberger, Quality: Its Image in the Arts (New York: Atheneum, 1969), 208. See Max Kozloff, “Photography: The Coming to Age of Color,” Artforum, vol. 13, no. 5 ( January 1975), 31–35. John Szarkowski,  William Eggleston’s Guide  (NewYork: The Museum of Modern Art, 1976), 14. Hilton Kramer, “Art: Focus on Photo Shows,” The New York Times, May 28, 1976, Section C, 18. James Maher, “Photographing the ‘Boring,’ The History and Photography of William Eggleston,” https:// jamesmaherphotography.com/historical-photographyarticles/photographing-boring-history-photography-ofwilliam-eggleston/ Augusten Burroughs, “William Eggleston, the Pioneer of Color Photography,”  The New York Times,  T  Magazine, October 17, 2016. www.nytimes.

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com/2016/10/17/t-magazine/william-egglestonphotographer-interview-augusten-burroughs.html? rref=collection%2Fsectioncollection%2Ft-magazine&action = click&contentCollection = t-magazine& region=stream&module=stream_unit&version=search& contentPlacement=2&pgtype=sectionfront Getty Museum Collection Database, www.getty.edu/ art/collection/person/103KWE Joel Meyerowitz,  Cape Light: Color Photographs by Joel Meyerowitz  (Boston, MA: New York Graphic Society, 1978), unp. The debate over form and/vs. content in art is a famous one. In relation to photography, perhaps Benedetto Croce provides a good starting point with his influential 1902 book on Æsthetic, excerpted in Hershberger, ed.,  Photographic Theory, 105–7. See also Paul Strand’s 1922 reply to Croce, 126–29. See Liam Kennedy, “Remembering September 11: Photography as Cultural Diplomacy” (2003), in Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 415–20, esp. p. 418. Jan Groover and Renato Danese, eds.,  American Images (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1979), 140. Jan Groover, Outside the City Limits: Landscape by New York City Artists, exhibition catalogue (Sparkill, NY: Thorpe Intermedia Gallery, 1977), 22. Mark Cohen email to author, August 29, 2022. Sarah Moroz, “Mark Cohen: the photographer who literally shoots from the hip,” The Guardian, Oct 22, 2013, www.theguardian.com/ artanddesign/photography-blog/2013/oct/22/markcohen-photographer-exhibition-paris Ibid. Keith Smith in correspondence with author, May 4, 2016. The name Fluxus, meant to suggest both “flow” and “effluent,” was coined by a primary Fluxus founder George Maciunas (1931–1978), a Lithuanian-American designer and “cultural entrepreneur,” who described the movement as “a fusion of Spike Jones, gags, games, Vaudeville, [ John] Cage, and Duchamp.” Pluralists oppose the notion of having a single mainstream of thought in favor of a multitude of approaches that present diverse points of view. Jonathan Fineberg,  Art Since 1940: Strategies of Being, 3rd edition (Upper Saddle River, NJ: Prentice Hall, 2011), 363 passim. See Joan Lyons, ed., Artists’ Books: A Critical Anthology and Sourcebook  (Rochester, NY: Visual Studies Workshop, 1985).

chapter seventeen : changing realities

73 See David Featherstone,  The Diana Show: Pictures

85 For a critical article about the NEA and artist-spaces,

Through a Plastic Lens, Untitled 21 (Carmel, CA: Friends of Photography, 1980). Howard N. Kaplan, The Less Than Sharp Show (Chicago, IL: The Chicago Photographic Gallery of Columbia College, 1977), 4. David Levinthal in telephone conversation with the author, March 30, 2015. David Levinthal, Small Wonder: Worlds in a Box (Washington, DC: National Museum of American Art, 1996). Front interior dust jacket. For an overview of the sweeping political and economic changes see “The American Occupation of Japan, 1945–1952,” Asia for Educators, Columbia University, http://afe. easia.columbia.edu/special/japan _1900_occupation.htm SeeYasufumi Nakamori and Allison Pappas, For a New World to Come: Experiments in Japanese Art and Photography, 1968–1979  (Houston, TX: Museum Fine Arts Houston, 2015). Tōmatsu, Shōmei. Tōmatsu Shōmei shashinshõ 1:11-ji 02-bun Nagasaki. Tokyo: Shashinodojinsha, Shōwa 41 (1966), 70–71. Mark Holborn, Eikoh Hosoe, New York: Aperture, 1999, back cover. In 1970, Mishima committed ritual suicide by seppuku (disembowelment and beheading) after leading a bizarre, right-wing coup d’état attempt that intended to restore the power of the Emperor of Japan. Daidō Moriyama, “Shinjuku is….” Tokyo: Getsuyōsha, 2002, essay inserted on a folded printed sheet inside the book. Alex Moshakis, “Is Nobuyoshi Araki’s photography art or porn?,” The  Guardian, Wednesday, May 8, 2013, www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2013/may/08/ nobuyoshi-araki-photography-art-porn Shunga are artistically sophisticated, finely crafted, and generally luminously colored Japanese woodblock prints in circulation between the seventeenth and twentieth centuries that feature kimono-wearing couples with enlarged genitals performing physically fantastical sexual acts. Made by some of the best-known ukiyo-e artists (pictures of the floating world), such as Hokusai and Utamaro, they were typically sold in volumes with each volume containing a set of dozens of images to create sexual adventure for a mainstream audience who were neither afraid nor embarrassed to embrace erotic imagery.

see Grant Kester, “Rhetorical Questions: The Alternative Arts Sector and the Imaginary Public,”  Afterimage ( January 1993), 10–16. Some of the other alternative photographic spaces that are currently operating include The Light Factory (Charlotte, NC); San Francisco Camerawork; Photographic Resource Center (Boston, MA); Houston Center for Photography; The Center for Photography at Woodstock (Kingston, NY); Blue Sky Gallery (Portland, OR); the Northwest Center for Photography (Seattle, WA); and the Los Angeles Center of Photography. The NEA ended general operating support for such organizations in 1996. In 1998 the Supreme Court ruled that “decency” standards could be considered in awarding federal art grants. Information about each of these organizations can be found by visiting their websites. See Deborah Bright, ed.,  The Passionate Camera: Photography and Bodies of Desire  (London and New York: Routledge, 1998). See A. D. Coleman, Light Readings: A Photography Critic’s Writing, 1968–1978 (New York: Oxford University Press, 1979). See Allan Sekula, “On the Invention of Photographic Meaning,” Artforum, vol. 13 ( January 1975), 36–45; “The Instrumental Image: Steichen at War,” Artforum, vol. 14 (December 1975), 26–35. See other important essays on photography by Deborah Bright, A. D. Coleman, and Allan Sekula in Hershberger, ed.,  Photographic Theory, 302–9, 276–83, and 296–301 respectively. See Martha Rosler, “Lookers, Buyers, Dealers, and Makers: Thoughts on Audience,” exposure, vol. 17, no. 1 (1979), 10–25. Susan Sontag, On Photography (New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1977), 20. Ibid., 14–15. For critiques of Sontag’s powerful arguments, see essays by Sharon Sliwinski and Marianne Hirsch in Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 370–76 and 408–11 respectively. Among other canonical October essays on the 1970s, see Rosalind Krauss, “Notes on the Index: Seventies Art in America” (1977), in Hershberger, ed.,  Photographic Theory, 246–50. For one of Derrida’s deconstructive publications focused on photography, see excerpts from his  Right of Inspection  (1985), in Hershberger, ed.,  Photographic Theory, 310–14.

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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Thinking About Photography

CONCEPTUAL ART: THE ACT OF CHO OSING

academic illustrations of an intellectual theory that dismiss the wonders of visual language. Conceptual artists and collaborative networks like Fluxus, which included Joseph Beuys (1921– 1986), George Maciunas (1931–1978), Nam June Paik (1932–2006), and Yoko Ono (b. 1933), echoed the Dada movement and upset bourgeois expectations by choosing anti-rational, intellectual, and social concerns over sanctified aesthetic and visual ones (see Chapter 17, Artists’ Books). Although Fluxus had a foothold in mainstream culture, their agenda sought to revamp it. Their revolutionary manifesto called for a “living art” that would purge contemporary work of imitation, illusion, and abstraction and would be accessible to more people, not just the art-world elite. They argued that an artist’s role is to enable people to see things differently, thus changing their values and vision over time. Mixed media events were their forte, exemplified by the Charlotte Moorman (1933–1991) and Nam June Paik collaboration featuring Moorman playing her cello while wearing miniature television sets fashioned into a brassiere, merging performance art and avant-garde music. By combining filmic images and performance-based installations, artists such as Hollis Frampton (1936–1984), Yvonne Rainer (b. 1934), and Bill Viola (b. 1951) formed new hybrid platforms for making and viewing work, and such

During the socially turbulent 1960s, artists rethought the roles photographers, photographs, and viewers can occupy in society. Their practice shifted from Modernistic formalism that emphasized compositional and tonal elements of the straight print to a conceptual approach in which ideas took precedence over how subjects were depicted. By rejecting the premise that art had to have a tangible and aesthetic form, conceptual artists argued that process was equally valid as an artistic statement. Also, conceptual art offered a way to circumvent commercialization and formalism and supply a concrete framework for cerebral works of art. Conceptual artists adopted photographs, undervalued by the art establishment, as organizing mechanisms for transmitting cultural messages. Applying aspects of semiotics, feminism, and popular culture, many conceptual artists used the camera as an allegedly neutral recording device. They made deadpan prints that appeared to be aesthetically artless and that bore little resemblance to traditional fine art objects. At its best conceptual art opened up possibilities of making art in nontraditional ways. An artist no longer had to be defined by their medium: one could talk, one could write, or one could make a photograph. At its worst, it can be boring, navel-gazing

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PETER MOORE. Charlotte Moorman Wearing Nam June Paik’s TV Bra for Living Sculpture, 1969. Variable dimensions. Gelatin silver print. The appearance of Nam June Paik’s name in the author’s position in this caption for a photograph by Peter Moore (a comparatively unknown artist) demonstrates some of the shifts that occurred during this time period. Paik’s work, in this case, as in many Fluxus-related works, existed only for a brief time during the date of the actual performance. Yet, we can study such performances today mostly through photographs and films that other artists, like Peter Moore, created as “documents” of those events. © Barbara Moore/Licensed by VAGA, New York, NY. COURTESY

Paula Cooper Gallery, New York.

combinations and platforms would become hallmarks of contemporary digital media1 (See Chapter 20/Internet Immediacy). Frampton also pioneered work in xerography (a.k.a Copy Art) in the late 1970s and early 1980s after the introduction of the Xerox  6500 color copier in 1973, a machine that weighed 1,040 pounds (472 kilos). This reflected

his thinking about photography as a democratic medium, and about how art should be made widely available, all of which led him to edition such works.2 This embrace of xerography also altered the traditional photographic process of imagemakers bringing their cameras to the subject matter. Now imagemakers could reverse course and bring their

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subject matter to the camera at a copy center where a trained operator ran the machine. This shift converted a normally solitary activity into one of artistic collaboration and information sharing between photographer, employee, and machine. Along with its immediacy and low cost, this new “immovable camera” became a fresh photographic tool that fostered artistic communities capable of bypassing the conventional means of artistic education, production, censorship, and circulation. This sort of collaboration played off the notions of artist collectives that continue on today and whose history is celebrated at the Museum für Fotokopie, Mülheim an der Ruhr, Germany.3 Mail art and rubber stamp art presented other egalitarian, nonconformist, low-cost Fluxus activities. Collagist and correspondence artist Raymond Edward “Ray” Johnson (1927–1995), who advocated that all processes are equal and deserve equal treatment, became the founder of mail art with his New York Correspondence School project that gained traction in the 1960s and that continues on today. In mail art, the pieces were addressed, stamped, and mailed to the exhibition site. Shows were often loosely organized around a theme, and all works received got displayed. In rubber stamp art an image and/or text applied to inexpensive rubber stamps can be quickly reproduced endlessly, anytime, anywhere. Both were open democratic approaches that did not require high levels of technical skill and often engaged in satire. These techniques rejected the requirements that expert curators organize a show and that art should embody something original, precious, and irreplaceable. Along with the practitioners of pop art, many artists and critics explored semiotics, the study of the signs and symbols that constitute the basis for all forms of communication (see Chapter 17).4 During the 1970s, certain artists used the analytical tools of semiotics to examine clichés, myths, and stereotypes about gender and power that were communicated and reinforced through mass-media sign systems.

© JOAN LYONS. Womens’s Portrait Series, 1971–1980. 19 × 26 inches. Haloid-Xerox transfer drawing and lithograph. Lyons tells us: “Through an investigation of the cultural feminine and female archetypes, I thought I might learn something about historical images of women. These are multiple transfers on large sheets of paper—a reconstruction by piecework. The medium is Haloid Xerox, the original view-camera based flatbed Xerox equipment that yielded a carbon image on plain paper—a photographic drawing.”5

They incorporated semiotics-based analyses to try and reveal the multitude of possible meanings produced by the variations between the apparent, professed content of a work of art (what semoticians call the “text”) and the cultural assumptions

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of viewers. This approach disclosed both the social context for the production, reception, and dissemination of images and how this process shapes the underlying message of all representations. John Baldessari’s (1931–2020) work of the late 1960s reconstituted the use of text onto canvas after reading Roland Barthes’s  Mythologies  (1957) in order to invest Barthes’s ideas about creating modern myths within mass media with new meanings. In 1968, Baldessari burned all his paintings as a means to break with technique and embrace the maxim that Art is truly in the idea (see Chapter 10). Such judgments, which form the core of the Conceptual Art Movement, led Baldessari to playfully commingle mediums. He courted ambiguity and the dualities of chaos and order and attempted to free himself from doing what artists had previously been expected to do: organize the world and give it a defined, narrative meaning. During the 1970s, Baldessari asked himself “why photographers do one thing and painters another.” Baldessari answered:

nothing but silver deposit on paper and paintings are nothing more than paint deposited on canvas, so what’s the big deal? Why should there be a separate kind of imagery for each? 6

Baldessari appropriated and recycled images from mass media, especially Hollywood film stills, taking the existential position that choices make both your life and art authentic. His work is not grounded in formal aesthetics but “is about the moment of decision and about fate intervening and chance eroding and disrupting our powers to make a decision.”7 In Close Crop Tales (1981), Baldessari rejected the rectangular picture format and broke away from formalistic confines of the edge by cutting his content-loaded images (film and publicity stills) into dynamic shapes with between three and eight sides.8 The book tells six “tales,” from “A Three-Sided Tale” to “An Eight-Sided Tale.” Baldessari explained: it starts out a three-sided story and then all the images are three-sided, then four-sided, five-sided, six-sided—I think I got up to eight-sided images—and all the images are the different sides dictated by the internal composition, so there was a three-sided shape triangle, then there’s something in there [the pictures] that dictates those three sides … All of the framing is dictated by what is inside.9

The real reason I got deeply interested in photography was my sense of dissatisfaction with what I was seeing. I wanted to break down the rules of photography—the conventions. I began to say photographs are simply

Baldessari went on to employ assistants to help create his works, with mural-sized printing and framing “jobbed out” elsewhere. He sums up his outlook by explaining, “It’s delegation. An architect is a classic example. He doesn’t have to build a house. A composer doesn’t always have to conduct his work so why should an artist?”10 In  Blasted Allegories  (1978), Baldessari invited friends to ascribe a single word to black-and-white images randomly taken from television. Baldessari then arbitrarily colored or shaded each image with a hue whose first letter started with the same first letter as the chosen word. Algebraic messages

© JOHN BALDESSARI. An Eight-Sided Tale, detail from the Artist’s Book Close-Cropped Tales, 1980. 3 5⁄8 × 6 inches (irregular shape). Photo offset. COURTESY  John Baldessari and CEPA Gallery, Buffalo, NY.

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were then added to the pieces to form verbal and visual “sentences.” This mutual exchange of visual and verbal groupings encouraged an open, multiple “reading” of the works. The dense, layered quality of allegory replaced the homogeneity of the metaphoric modernist approach. Allegory, the reliance on symbols to represent meanings other than those indicated on the surface, was resurrected in the late 1950s by the French situationists. The situationists, characterized by Guy Debord’s (1931–1994) theories in  Society of the Spectacle  (1967) about commodity fetishism and mass media, proposed that transient experiences, like taking on the role of flâneur and strolling through a city, furnished fleeting sights and sounds that were themselves art. Their stance implied an end to art objects, and was based on a society so attuned to the aesthetic qualities of its everyday surroundings that people no longer required art. Other readers interpret this idea in a much more pessimistic fashion wherein everything is rendered into a “spectacle” for the masses, whose actual social life has been substituted with its representation that can be absorbed in a state of unthinking appreciation. A similar critique has been applied to social media in which followers engage with sites, groups, and individuals by indicating their approval of a posting with their digital Likes. Allegory permits artists to deal with appropriation, fragmentation, transience, the disintegration of tangible means of measurement, and the uncertainty of meaning and time, while emphasizing content over pictorial concerns. The contemplation and questioning of a work’s source, purpose, context, audience, and significance disturbs the importance typically given to an artist as a shaman who can see and explain the world, suggesting a more equal and open-ended exchange between artists and audiences, encouraging viewers to ascribe their own meanings. The downside of this approach is that audiences may consider such work to be less purposeful and therefore lacking in direct and useful connections to their world.

As approaches to photography became more cerebral, photographers searched for fresh models. Conceptual work dispensed with the modernist physical standards of the fine print—the thoughtful use of light, material, process, and technique—dismissing the bedrock upon which photography had gained its artistic acceptance. Sharing the character and outlook of Marcel Duchamp’s readymades (see Chapter 10), conceptual images blatantly ignore past aesthetics and heroic subject matter in favor of flatly describing mundane facts. Unlike documentary artists, conceptual artists recorded arranged events with a minimalist severity that abolished any visual components included solely for the sake of beauty. This reductionist outlook shaved subjects down to fundamental abstract ideas, often too complex to be understood within the confines of a single photograph, further challenging the reportorial mode of photography. Artists not absorbed in the observation of outer reality or their own personal lives abandoned the photographic method of making selections from the external world. These artists ceased acting as spectators and editors and instead took directorial responsibility for constructing images in their studios and darkrooms. The studio, instead of the street, became a creation site, recasting the nineteenth-century compositional syntax of Oscar G. Rejlander and Henry Peach Robinson, which had been exiled by Modernism.11  This way of thinking put photographers on an equal footing with other artists who had the authority to fashion images based on their internal directives. No longer was a photographer limited to picturing only what was visible, to being a presenter of physical evidence, and a reliable witness of outer reality, a reporter subject to the whims of available light. Ironically, freed of the documentary task from which photography had liberated painting, a photographer could now take the privileged position of creating what had formerly been considered an “unphotographable” internal event.

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PERFORMANCE ART

1941), Marina Abramović (b. 1946), and Chris Burden (1946–2015). Performance art is an openended classification for art activities that include elements of dance, music, poetry, theater, and video, presented before a live audience and usually “saved” by photographic methods and shown to larger audiences. One of its purposes is to provide a more interactive experience between artists and audiences. All of the above artists have made use of the supposed objectivity of the photograph to give a documentary look to their arranged situations. For example, Klein’s Leap into the Void (1960) presents a photograph that appears to show him jumping off a wall, arms outstretched, and flying. Actually, the picture was a photomontage that eliminated the tarp Klein landed on for the image that was distributed. To complete the illusion that he was capable of flight, Klein distributed a fake broadsheet at Parisian  newsstands commemorating the event. Numerous interpretations of this piece can grab one’s attention and imagination, but its affect and effect relies upon a viewer’s belief in photographic veracity. Klein juxtaposes irrational defiance against predictable expectations in an emblematic jump of self-discovery into the unknown. Austrian artist  Arnulf Rainer’s (b. 1929) body became an innovative site for merging the historical pain and suffering of World War II with the fierce gestural marking or defacing of the print surface. Rainer thereby violated modernist tenets about the separation of art and photography by expressionistically exploring the “internal” human being, the soul, the power of instincts, and the subconscious.

French artist Yves Klein (1928–1962), a harbinger of Minimalism and Pop Art, pioneered performance art when he “signed” the sky above Nice in 1947, in an attempt to grasp the immaterial. This term, “performance art,” has been retroactively applied to early live-art forms, such as body art and happenings. The progressive disintegration of the conventional artist’s materials and presentation forms led to the engagement of the real body as a forum for cultural critiques as seen in work of artists such as Carolee Schneemann (1939–2019), Vito Acconci (1940–2017), Bruce Nauman (b.

© YVES KLEIN. Leap into the Void, 1960. Variable dimensions. Gelatin silver print. COURTESY  ADAGP, Paris; Photo: Shunk-Kender © Roy Lichtenstein Foundation.

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BRUCE NAUMAN. Portrait of the Artist as a Fountain, 1966. 19 7⁄8 × 23¾ inches. Chromogenic color print. In Portrait of the Artist as a Fountain, the half-naked Bruce Nauman first elevated his body to the status of a traditional sculptural motif (this work references Marcel Duchamp’s Fountain (1917), a urinal signed and exhibited as art). By spewing liquid, Nauman mimics urination and/or ejaculation, demoting the functions of his mouth from the intellectual process of speech to the physical process of elimination. © 2016 Bruce Nauman/Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York, NY. COURTESY  Pace Gallery, New York.

© ARNULF RAINER. Bundle in Face, 1974. 20 1⁄16  × 23 13⁄16  inches. Gelatin silver print with ink and oil crayon. Rainer photographed himself grimacing to access a preverbal body language, but he felt the resulting images did not capture the psychic reality of his self-transformation. By uniting his photography and drawing, Rainer created a tension between the comic and the tragic in which “all sorts of new personages suddenly appeared to me who, all being ME, were not capable of manifesting themselves solely by the movement of my muscles.”12 COURTESY  San Francisco Museum of

Modern Art.

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William Wegman (b. 1943) wittily incorporated his dog, Man Ray (1970–1982), into real-time videos that built upon the repetition of observing and recording numerous staged situations. In 1978, Wegman shifted his modus operandi from these spare studio video performances (a stream of moments) to the large-format Polaroid camera (a formalized controlled moment). This transformed the way Wegman worked and led to  Man’s Best Friend (1982), the first of numerous publishing ventures in which his dogs appeared. Wegman’s dogs (Fay Ray followed Man Ray, and Wegman now works with her offspring) became “blackboards of living art materials” that Wegman nursed “into engagements not of their own thinking that are disturbing and funny … [while] being careful not to

make them ridiculous.”13  By combining body and performance art, substituting a canine for familiar people and situations, Wegman systematically explored the metamorphosis of a single subject. Mixing detachment and love, Wegman cultivated his fantasies with a patient, “neutral” companion who takes all the transformations seriously.

A RETURN TO TYPOLO GIES Bernd  Becher (1931–2007) and  Hilla Becher  (1934–2015) began collaborating in the late 1950s to document archaic industrial structures as archetypes, the paradigm of a class of subjects that represents the essential elements shared by all varieties of that class. Their dispassionate and highly ordered scrutiny favored a centered, frontal confrontation, utilizing a high point of view printed only in black-and-white. Backgrounds were minimized, eliminating the surroundings and diminishing perspectival depth. The overcast light was direct, flat, and lacking in differentiation. With no shadows, clouds, or traces of human activity, absolute stillness prevails. These artifacts, which the Bechers referred to as “anonymous sculptures,” expanded the Duchampian concept of the readymade and were based on an industrial archeology whose topology can be studied in a new setting without nostalgia and in whose configuration lies the microcosm of an ideal universe. The Bechers’ stated purpose is “to collect the information in the simplest form, to disregard unimportant differences and to give a clearer understanding of the structures.”14  Their deadpan, melancholic images form a comparative anatomy of vanishing architectural structures, which provides a system of understanding the world that cannot be achieved in a natural setting. However, critic Hilton Kramer wrote that the Bechers’ photographs “look like the sort of pictures one sees in a real estate office.”15

© WILLIAM WEGMAN. Ray and Mrs. Lubner in Bed Watching TV (second version), 1981. 24 × 20 inches. Diffusion transfer print (Polaroid). COURTESY  Pace/MacGill Gallery, New York.

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© Estate of BERND and HILLA BECHER. Anonymous Sculpture, 1970. 83 5⁄8 × 74¼ inches. Gelatin silver prints. The Bechers are known for making objective photographic records of the industrial landscape using a mechanized approach that is impassively exacting and repetitive. In 1971, Bernd wrote, “We deal with objects, not motifs. The photograph serves as a stand-in for the object—it is useless as a picture in the conventional sense.”16 The Bechers often organized their images in a grid to allow each structure to be clearly be compared with the others. Their concept was to transform specific individual water towers into a variation on an ideal form and while preserving their individual characteristics within a typology. They stated: “We wanted to provide a viewpoint or rather a grammar for people to understand and compare different structures. This is often impossible in their natural setting.”17 COURTESY  Sonnabend Gallery, New York.

The Bechers’ methodology renews the positivist, encyclopedic compulsion to catalog the world in the belief that to know something is to subdivide, quantify, and recombine it. Their work asks the “how” question without getting entangled in the thorny thicket of “why.” It disregards the issue of whether

compiling more information always leads to a greater understanding of a subject. What is important lies in observing, measuring, and making conclusions based on the data, even if the subject of the data gathering cannot be explained. It is a way of distancing oneself through the act of presenting the world

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(in the Bechers’ case, industrial architecture) as an abstraction, moving observers toward the Elizabethan philosopher Francis Bacon’s proclaimed goal of science: mastery over one’s environment. Bacon’s Cartesian model equates truth with utility and the intentional manipulation of the environment. It considers the neoplatonist outlook that sees the universe as a holistic, living, interconnected organism, as mystical fluff. The Bechers thereby direct a course towards the domination of nature through a rational, technologically based thought process.18  This level of ambivalent and unsentimental detachment may prompt some viewers to examine the relationship of these photographs to the amoral historical events of Nazi Germany, organized actions that affected artists of the Bechers’ generation. Does the Bechers’ conceptual stance come only from a minimalist disposition or is it indicative of a larger consciousness defined by its refusal or desire not to examine its own totalitarian history, the Past-Which-Must-Not-BeNamed, which embraced dystopian catastrophe and ecological destruction? The Bechers generally present their highly controlled photographs in a grid format (often about 3 × 3 feet). The image clarity allows the nuances of these functionalist sculptural compositions, many of which were about to be destroyed as obsolete when the Bechers photographed them, to be comprehended and appreciated. By objectively and collectively “naming” the subjects, the Bechers hoped to convey the pathos of their historical condition within a rapidly shifting industrialized culture. As a teacher in what has been known as the Düsseldorf School of Photography, Bernd Becher’s conceptual approach, treading between order and disorder, shaped the work of his students, including Candida Höfer (b. 1944), Thomas Struth (b. 1954), Andreas Gursky (b. 1955), and Thomas Ruff (b. 1958). Höfer’s large format photographs of empty interiors and social spaces capture the “psychology of social architecture.” Ruff and Struth’s

images emphasize an empirical formula of amassing facts to study in a judicious and systematic fashion. Ruff ’s larger-than-life-size, emotionally expressionless headshots serve as archetypes too, presenting a human head as a summary of the universe. His more recent building portraits are likewise serial and reclusive in nature, and have been edited digitally to remove obstructing details, giving the images a standardized appearance. Struth’s desire to reduce his visual vocabulary to its simplest premise—to look, to see, and to reflect—can be seen in his 12 × 16-foot Video Portraits (1996–2002). Here Struth shows with restraint the heads and shoulders of people calmly gazing into the camera, and by extension, at us. Except for occasional blinks, and small, involuntary muscular movements and other initially imperceptible occurrences, the steady and unmoving portraits combine the contemplative stasis of painting with photography’s grasp of the ephemerality of everyday occurrences. Robert Cumming’s (1943–2020) analytical photographs emerge from scientific procedures for gathering evidence that stress objective measurement, controlled procedure, and technological methods. Cumming’s images run contrary to fine art expectations of personal expression, and they seem to rely on the photographic process to gather, organize, and document data into logical information. However, his work does not really do this. The images are pseudo-events, astutely staged, droll fictions that distort assumptions surrounding photographic veracity. Cumming’s meticulous “anti-documents” parody scientific correctness. Their purpose is not to dupe people—Cumming provides clues—but to challenge observers to find the defects in the visual logic. In the series Three Sides of a Small House, the Fourth Being Obscured by a Low Wall and Some Foliage (1974), an attentive onlooker will notice that the side walls of the house are the same. Cumming’s visual record of this event is so minimal that it steers viewers into considering the ideas that constitute the event; in this case, the fictional nature

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© ROBERT CUMMING. Three Sides of a Small House, the Fourth Being Obscured by a Low Wall and Some Foliage, 1974. 6¼ × 8 inches each. Gelatin silver prints. Cumming’s witty work exemplifies the conceptual photographer’s credo of “fabricated to be photographed” that takes the position that all photographs incorporate a fictional, manufactured element. He sums up the underlying themes of his images as “out-and-out illusionism and magic tricks, satires on the misreading of natural phenomena, and sardonic commentaries on the history or art and photography.”19 Licensed by Artists Rights Society/ARS, New York, NY.

POSTMODERNISM

of the subject becomes apparent, revealing how a photographer can contrive information. As he points out how the act of observation alters what is being observed, Cumming also questions photography’s impartiality and the role of the camera as a recorder and formulator of reality. His tableaux, reflecting his interest in Hollywood moviemaking, caution us to beware of messages delivered on a screen, whether TV, film, computer or smartphone. The obsession with cataloging pushes its conceptual limits with Douglas Huebler’s (1924–1997) proposal to photograph “the existence of everyone alive in order to produce the most authentic and inclusive representation of the human species ….”20  Instead of creating aesthetically pleasing objects, Huebler coopted the objective repeatability of photography as a thinking aid to call attention to his larger conceptual goals. In this case, Huebler wanted to demonstrate the notion of impossibility. His utterly banal images challenged the idea that a single picture could explain any subject, and therefore they denied the significance of visual documents all together. In this way Huebler pointed out the deceptive rationalism that goes into the making of any photographic archive.

Postmodernism refers in part to the dissolution of traditional boundaries between art, architecture, popular culture, and the media. “It is part of a shakeup,” as Leo Steinberg argued, “which contaminates all purified categories.”21  This shakeup was accomplished by means of an open-ended process of borrowing and mixing ideas, art forms, and representations from the past and the present. As differences between mediums become less distinct, their unique concepts and processes commingle. This has led to the formation of ambiguous and contrary hybrids that pay no attention to the modernist concept of achieving “pure” articulated ways of thinking, making, and understanding the arts.22  Postmodernist theoreticians draw heavily from structuralist and post-structuralist theory. The structuralists believe meaning cannot be determined by surface appearances since everything from a photograph to a television program is a text that must be decoded.23  The post-structuralists then moved beyond the act of deciphering the “text” and unveiling the hidden assumptions behind it into what Jacques Derrida (1930–2004) called

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deconstruction. With deconstruction, Derrida believed that all meaning is fluid and temporary and there is no such thing as an underlying or absolute meaning. He and other post-structuralists conclude that finding true meaning is like trying to find your true reflection in a hall of mirrors. Everything is distorted.24 The notion that there is not a single truth of experience is at the core of postmodern thinking. This is in direct opposition to the modernist view of trying to discover the essential meaning in the world. Postmodernism has disallowed the notion of artistic intention, reference, and intrinsic meaning and has led some critics to say it has cut off art from its aesthetic, political, and social moorings. On the other hand, it has encouraged artists to explore divergent ways of representing reality and reintroduced and reinvigorated issues from the 1960s like feminism, racism, sexual orientation, and social justice and brought them to the forefront. For postmodern thinkers, photography is not the stimulus for theory but the consequence of it. Jean Baudrillard (1929–2007) wrote that we are a media saturated society of the simulacrum, a “copy” for which there is no original. From his viewpoint, we are a culture not just of the image, but one in which the image has replaced that which it supposedly represented. These phantom images, or simulacra, supplant reality and curtail our ability to make genuine responses to life.25  Originality, a building block of Modernism, is no longer viable, since everyone in the industrialized world is contaminated and/or contained by mass culture. Its indiscriminate effects render us incapable of originality, making recycled, secondhand imagery the clear choice. Some critics label it extremely pessimistic charging it is nihilist as it maintains that nothing has a real existence. Since 1964  Gerhard Richter  (b. 1932) has amassed “found” (discarded and lost) photographs and self-produced photographic documentation, including newspaper reproductions, prints, and snapshots, which he then preserves on panels.

© GERHARD RICHTER. Uncle Rudi (Onkel Rudi), 1965. 34¼ × 1911⁄16 inches. Oil on canvas. When asked: “Why do most of your paintings look like blurry photographs?” Richter responded: “I’ve never found anything to be lacking in a blurry canvas. Quite the contrary: you can see many more things in it than in a sharply focused image. A landscape painted with exactness forces you to see a determined number of clearly differentiated trees, while in a blurry canvas you can perceive as many trees as you want. The painting is more open.”26 COURTESY  The Czech Museum of Fine Arts, Prague, Czech Republic and Marian

Goodman Gallery, New York.

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This endeavor, called Atlas (1964 to present), now includes thousands of photographic images on hundreds of panels, and serves as a way to “get a handle on the flood of pictures by creating order since there are no individual pictures at all anymore.”27  Richter’s penchant to build onto and produce new layers of meaning is also visible in the components of his “photo-paintings.” This series forges a relationship between painting and photography as it blends the past and the present, allowing a broader range of interpretation as the image shifts back and forth between abstraction and figuration. While suppressing detail, the blur frees the image from its moorings. This can inspire a viewer’s imagination to take on a photograph’s mutability at the juncture between obscurity and clarification, showing it is possible to see many more things in an ambiguous, less defined image than in one that is sharply focused.28 Uncle Rudi (1965) is modeled on a family snapshot, taken twenty-five years earlier, of the artist’s Nazi uncle proudly dressed in his SS uniform. Richter disrupts the photorealism that dominates Rudi’s “we will conquer the world attitude” by using a dry brush (he would later use a squeegee) to blur the carefully applied layers of paint, thereby canceling the reality within the portrait that fails to show the wickedness hiding behind a smile. Richter thereby points out how meaning cannot be contained, as it is contingent on our lived experiences. In his Uncle Rudi  portrait, based on a photograph of a young man from a Richter family album who would die fighting for the Nazis, Richter plays off his Soviet Social Realism training that praises the heroism of communist workers and his later influence of capitalism’s utilization of advertising and popular culture imagery to assert the benefits of material wealth. Whether it is the Nazis, the Soviets, or the West, Richter’s contested space of multiple juxtapositions lets us see what fits our ideological predisposition, making the notion of a purely nonrepresentational image an unfeasible dream, confirming an image is never what it seems, only what we read into it.

Some have argued that only those who directly experienced the Holocaust have the ability to truly represent it. Others disagree, claiming that the aftershocks of this calumnious event, and by extension other such occurrences, continue to vibrate so intensely that anyone who feels its effects has the right to try and find new ways of representing and understanding such trauma. These conceptual interpretations can be seen in the work of Christian Boltanski  (1944–2021). Through the first-hand presentation of a historical event that does not rely on the traditional documentary formula of being an on-the-spot witness, narrator, or photographer, each artist demonstrates what Ernst van Alphen calls the “Holocaust effect.”29  Forgoing irony, Boltanski uses postmodern and what Marianne Hirsch calls “postmemory” methods to engage the past through indirect references about the unknown dead of the Holocaust by enlisting its signifiers, such as archival boxes, deteriorated snapshots, light bulbs, and piles of clothes.30 These items establish a theatrical environment that rescues and transforms the existence of ordinary people from the oblivion of  war and time. His unsentimental process encourages viewers to reflect upon how this tragic event continues to haunt Western culture and its political policies throughout the world, and reminds us to be on guard against what Holocaust survivor and author of Night (1958) Elie Wiesel calls the “Perils of Indifference.” Bart Parker (1934–2013), who studied with Harry Callahan, combined photographs and text to examine the separation between reality and the image of that reality. Parker asserted the primacy of the image by showing how a subject can be confused with its representation. Parker’s  Tomatoe Picture  (1977) evokes semiotic theory by directly comparing a subject with its sign: two images, one made of an actual tomato and the second taken from a color photograph of a tomato, seem identical. However, the captions tell us that one image is of a “real” tomato while the other is a flat representation,

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CHRISTIAN BOLTANSKI. Autel Chases (Altar to the Chases high school), 1987. “Lessons of Darkness,” installation view. Boltanski reflects on his Holocaust work: “The act of naming is incredibly important. When you name someone you are saying—this person existed. I think one of the reasons I am so drawn to this idea is because the Holocaust is death without a trace. Nameless. Without a tomb.”31 © 2024 Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York, NY/ADAGP, Paris. COURTESY  Marian Goodman Gallery,

New York.

making visible the postmodernist belief that representation (or at least photographic representation) misconstrues the original. Over the course of a year in 1976–1977, Paul Berger (b. 1948) photographed diagrams and formulas on classroom blackboards, only partially advancing the film after each exposure. Berger cut the developed film into thirds and contact printed it, and the continuously overlapping sequence of

image strips created an abstracted progressive grid. The repetition of chalk lines in this series, entitled  Mathematics, takes on a calligraphic flow, employing photographic accuracy to transform scientific information into a study about photographic representation, scale, space, and time. The fact that Berger spent a year making photographs of chalk lines also reveals the growing artistic disenchantment with “the subject.” If one accepts the

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postmodern notion that there is no “original,” it is easy to believe that the subject of one’s work is of little consequence. This acceptance of secondhand experience that denies the possibility of an original parallels the ideas in Barthes’s 1967 essay “Death of the Author” and in scholar Frederic Jameson’s pronouncements about the “death of the subject.” Post-structuralists would say that this position is an indication that the construct of the self never has existed and never can exist.32  Berger’s Seattle Subtext (1984) draws on these semiotic studies, using electronically transmitted imagery to comment on the mechanisms from which we obtain knowledge by reading photographs. Berger examines the collision between reality and illusion that occurs in viewer expectations when the changeable, electronic, digital mentality confronts that of the fixed, mechanical Gutenberg press. The artistic collaboration known as MANUAL was formed in 1974 by Suzanne Bloom (b. 1943) and Ed Hill (b. 1935). Their choice of name implies a common guiding handbook as well as the sense of touch, reflecting their concerns about the phenomenological aspects of artmaking: observable facts and occurrences. MANUAL became an early adopter of electronic imaging to merge pictures/identities of the past with those of the present, atomizing time and space, leaving its audience with only the now. Their digital strategy implies that originality is a myth and that there can be no divine architect of creativity, or the true self, because everything inside a person’s mind has been imprinted by culture and language, inescapably making all images and texts reworkings of existing works; not even a photographer can reveal anything truly new.33 Victor Burgin’s (b. 1941) work takes on the photographically fragmented nature of the postmodern environment. Burgin deals with all events and images as being equally encoded with meaning and readable, and then he weaves them into one seamless reality. Along with conceptual artist Hans Haacke (b. 1936), Burgin created forums to address political

consciousness, forums designed to upset the modernist position of making aesthetic considerations a priority. In his book  Thinking Photography  (1982), Burgin called for a new interdisciplinary photography theory emphasizing the process of signification.34 Here the content of a photograph (a sign) can be interpreted as having a meaning that is something other than the subject itself, depending on the ideological framework of the person decoding the sign. In The End of Art Theory (1986), Burgin placed the visual arts in the context of contemporary cultural theory that embraces language and socio-economic issues. Burgin’s combinations of images and texts cut across advertising, film, painting, and photography to deconstruct the modes and means of symbolic representation.

THE PICTURES GENERATION AND BEYOND The previously discussed artistic, philosophical, and social conditions gave rise to a group of artists loosely categorized as the “Pictures” generation. They were named after an exhibition curated by Douglas Crimp held at Artists Space in New York in 1977, and the title later expanded to “The Pictures Generation” after a much amplified exhibition at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in 2009.35 These artists arose during the 1970s and 1980s from two main bases: the founders of the Hallwalls gallery in Buffalo, NY, and the migration of students and faculty from the California Institute of the Arts to New York City. The appropriation of images and ideas from mass culture including advertising, movies, and television united their works. After Minimalism and Conceptual Art, the act of “re-presentation, not representation”36—how images that surround us can be recycled to craft new interpretations of the world and ourselves—seemed to be the most viable

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and perhaps the only creative option available. Over time, artists and writers not originally included in either “Pictures” exhibition have been included in this broad group.

wrapped up in a trash liner (with the cover closed), chances are better than ever, you’ve seen them too.”38 The postmodernists call this practice of using existing images appropriation; critics refer to it as piracy. Prince describes the postmodern condition in his writing, which features nameless characters (who serve as surrogates for the artist):

DECONSTRUCTING MYTHS: PLAYING WITH ARCHETYPES

Magazines, movies, TV, and records… It wasn’t everybody’s condition but to him it sometimes seemed like it was, and if it really wasn’t, that was alright, but it was going to be hard for him to connect with someone who passed themselves off as an example or a version of a life put together from reasonable matter… His own desires had very little to do with what came from himself because what he put out (at least in part) had already been out. His way to make it new was make it again, and making it again was enough for him and certainly, personally speaking, almost him.39

Richard Prince  (b. 1949) claims to unmask the schema of advertising imagery by rephotographing and cropping found magazine images. Prince’s position is one of exhaustion. The world has all the photographs it requires, he says, and there is no need to make new ones. Gleaning material from the ever-growing stockpile, Prince makes it clear that, “These pictures are more than available, and unless you’ve been living in an alley, inside an ash-can,

Prince’s postmodern stance asserts that most people only know the world through secondhand experience, through copies. Thus, as the original disappears so does its mythic value, emphasizing the Duchampian act of choosing as the artistic action. His radical cropping and enlargement of details provide an avenue of inquiry into the media’s presentation of gender through posing and stereotype, although Prince never explicitly condemns such practices, thus raising thorny questions such as: Is what Prince is doing legal and/or ethical? Where is the boundary line between art and plagiarism? What does his work say about the changing nature of authorship? Photographer Patrick Cariou sued Prince and the chic Gagosian Gallery in New York for copyright infringement, claiming that Prince plagiarized his  Yes Rasta  photographs in a series of paintings and collages, called  Canal Zone  (2007), and failed to “transform” the context of his original work. Prince countered, claiming “fair use,” and testifying that he “[doesn’t] have any really interest in what

© RICHARD PRINCE. Untitled, 1987. 27 × 40 inches. Chromogenic color print. In the early 1980s Richard Prince began his Cowboys series in which he rephotographed Marlboro cigarette ads, representing adventure, self-reliance, and rugged individuality, cropping out the text. Prince stated: “The pictures I went after, ‘stole,’ were too good to be true. They were about wishful thinking, public pictures that happen to appear in the advertising sections of mass-market magazines, pictures not associated with an author … It was their look I was interested in. I wanted to represent the closest thing to the real thing.”37 COURTESY  Regen Projects, Los Angeles.

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[another artist’s] original intent is because … what I do is I completely try to change it into something that’s completely different….”40  The court initially concluded that Prince and Gagosian had infringed on  Cariou’s copyrights. Prince appealed and the ruling was largely reversed. Eventually, the parties settled the suit out of court.41 To make his New Portraits series (2015), Prince took Instagram screen shots, had them enlarged, and sold them for $90,000 at the Gagosian Gallery. One woman whose picture Prince used has been selling photographs of Prince’s photograph of her original posting for $90 with the proceeds being donated to the Electronic Frontier Foundation, a nonprofit whose mission is protect digital content rights. Sherrie Levine (b. 1947), who participated in the Pictures exhibition (1977), took Prince’s concept even further by rephotographing a reproduction of Edward Weston’s Torso of Neil and exhibiting it as her own work, Untitled (After Edward Weston), in 1979. Levine did the same process with Walker Evans’s photographs, and later with reproductions of wellknown paintings. Her actions bluntly condemn what she and other feminist artists consider a competitive, male-dominated, capitalist culture’s insistence on the importance of originality—on who did it first. After working as a commercial artist earlier in her career, Levine stated that she “was really interested in how they [the commercial art field] dealt with the idea of originality. If they wanted an image, they’d just take it. It was never an issue of morality; it was always an issue of utility.”42 Nonetheless, other critics argue that culture cannot be divorced from morality, that culture is selective, and that selection involves choices; these choices form the basis of our ethics. Levine’s apparent renouncing of the traditional meaning of authorship, creativity, and originality was (on one level) a rejection of the modernist belief in progressive change, which infuriated most viewers and foreshadowed numerous, ongoing ethical issues surrounding the digital appropriation of other artists’ works. Her copies

of copies, functioning as stand-ins for the originals without the original artists’ agreement, amplified the inherent defects of the mechanical reproductions process. Levine stated: The pictures I make are really ghosts of ghosts; their relationship to the original images is tertiary, i.e., three or four times removed… I wanted to make a picture which contradicted itself.43

Levine’s “ghosts” reinforce Baudrillard’s position that power can be exercised through controlling the means of representation. By understanding the code in which the originals support biased cultural assumptions and stereotypes, and by reusing the images critically, one can deplete their power. Mike Mandel (b. 1950) satirized and deconstructed expectations surrounding the American myth of fame. His photo-offset series, Baseball Photographer Trading Cards  (1975), took a group of “photo stars” like Ansel Adams, dressed them up as baseball players, and anointed them with the visual status accorded to sports idols on collectable bubble gum trading cards. While normal baseball cards provide a player’s batting statistics, these cards listed items like the photographer’s favorite film and developer. These “clubby” cards pay ironic homage to a photo-elite unknown to the public at large. They indirectly ask why top artists do not receive the same status and financial rewards as celebrity sports figures, pointing out the lack of value society places on artmaking. Later, Mandel teamed up with Larry Sultan (1946–2009) and selected photographs from a multitude of found images that previously existed solely within the boundaries of the industrial, scientific, governmental, and other institutional sources from which they were mined. The resulting project,  Evidence  (1975–1977), became one of the first conceptual photographic works of the 1970s.  Evidence  demonstrated that the meaning of a photograph is conditioned by the context and sequence in which it is seen. Their

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results, both hilarious and perplexing, deliver an absurd and mindful take on the complexity that images possess when viewed in isolation, outside their original contexts. Along with Michael Lesy’s historic nonfiction   Wisconsin Death Trip  (1973),

which accentuates the bleak qualities of Midwestern rural life,  Evidence is a precursor to postmodern photographic practices, opening new possibilities that have been explored by artists including Joachim Schmid, Cindy Sherman, and Carrie Mae Weems. Joachim Schmid  (b. 1955) is a photographic recycler who collects, studies, and organizes society’s photographic detritus—photo-based images he has found in flea markets or online from which he makes collections of repetitive imagery. Schmid curates these vernacular pictures into different categories of recurring themes, such as Airline Meals, Postcards, Sex, and Various Accidents. In a Duchampian manner, he self-published ninety-six of these groupings as art books that examine how our society delights in producing the same types of pictures over and over again, turning the complete set into a visual survey of twentieth-century snapshots. Based on his motto, “You can observe a lot by watching,” Schmid’s chaotic, multifaceted, and paradoxical project—which can be printed on demand via his website—reflects the state of over production of both photographs and photographers. This hyper production has weaved photography ever deeper into our everyday experiences while simultaneously devaluing the makers and their output. This, in turn, adds another layer of difficulty for photographers who try to make a decent living from their creative works. To facilitate his “found” photography process, Schmid jokingly set up The Institute for the Reprocessing of Used Photographs in 1990 that offered to recycle “used, abandoned and unfashionable photographs. free of charge.”44 Much to his surprise, the “Institute” became overwhelmed with negatives and photographs, including a package that contained decades of medium format negatives that had been sliced in half from a professional photographic studio. Since Schmid was not concerned with their commercial value, he repositioned the left half of a negative with the right half of another negative to

© JOACHIM SCHMID. Photogenetic Drafts, #4 1991. Variable dimensions. Gelatin silver prints. Assembled between 2008 and 2011, Schmid’s series of ninety-six books explores the themes and visual patterns presented by everyday amateur photographers. Found images have been gathered and ordered to form a library of contemporary vernacular photography. Schmid’s website notes: “Each book is comprised of images that focus on a specific photographic event or idea, the grouping of photographs revealing recurring patterns in modern popular photography. The approach is encyclopedic, and the number of volumes is virtually endless but arbitrarily limited. The selection of themes is neither systematic nor does it follow any established criteria— the project’s structure mirrors the multifaceted, contradictory and chaotic practice of modern photography itself, based exclusively on the motto You can observe a lot by watching.”45

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© BARBARA KRUGER. Untitled (Your body is a battleground), 1989. 112 × 112 inches. Photographic silkscreen on vinyl. Kruger asserted: “The thing that’s happening with photography today vis-à-vis computer imaging, vis-à-vis alteration, is that it no longer needs to be based on the real at all. I don’t want to get into jargon—let’s just say that photography to me no longer pertains to the rhetoric of realism; it pertains more perhaps to the rhetoric of the unreal rather than the real or of course the hyperreal.”46 The Broad Art Foundation, Los Angeles, CA. COURTESY  Mary Boone Gallery, New York.

produce new baffling composite portraits that were uniformly lit and matched together in unexpected ways. This worked because the studio never seemed to have changed the position of its lights nor did it move the camera, essentially making the exact same picture over and over again, which can be interpreted as a critique about photographic excess and the “creative” experience in terms of original authorship. Barbara Kruger  (b. 1945) spent ten years working as a graphic designer for various women’s magazines that extolled beauty, fashion, wealth,

and heterosexual relationships before she began to produce photomontages, resembling billboards, with text that questioned capitalism’s relationship to patriarchal oppression and the role consumption plays within this social structure. In Remote Control: Power, Culture, and the World of Appearance (1994), Kruger deconstructs consumerism, the power of the media, and stereotypes of women to show how images and words manipulate and obscure meaning. Kruger states, “I work with pictures and words because they have the ability to determine

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FABRICATING ALTERNATIVE REALITIES

who we are, what we want to be, and what we become.”47 One of Kruger’s montages literally asks the viewer: Who speaks? Who is silent? Who is seen? Who is ignored? Kruger visualizes what Roland Barthes called “the rhetoric of the image,” showing viewers the tactics by which photographs impose their messages, revealing the hidden ideological agendas of power.48 She sees stereotypes of women as instruments of social power, determining who is in and who is out of fashion and of society. Her curt phrases—“Who is bought and sold?”“Your manias become science,” “Your gaze hits the side of my face”—go to the core of male demonstrations of financial, physical, and sexual power. Drawing on the seductive strategies of advertising, Kruger reuses anonymous commercial, studio-type images of purposely orchestrated movements. Like Prince, Kruger is not interested in action  per se, but in “the stereotype’s transformation of action into gesture.”49  Her selective use of personal pronouns—I/my, you/your—builds attraction, emphasis, and significance by simultaneously connecting the addressee and the speaker. Her genderless pronouns allow male, female, and trans observers to enter into Kruger’s work and illuminate the mechanisms of involuntary subjection. Kruger also recognizes the changing usage and reality of a photographic message, and its frequently theorized connections with themes like death (à la Barthes), and she designs her work to function in numerous situations, including books, gallery walls, installation environments, and billboards. Kruger explains:

Instead of reusing existing images, James Welling (b. 1951) photographically converts household items into familiar, archetypal images: crumpled aluminum foil becomes an apparent abstract landscape. Yet, expectations related to what viewers think they have seen and felt are left unfulfilled, setting up a contradictory mental state that promises emotion and insight but reveals only the materials that manufactured  the scene. Welling’s synthetic landscapes personify the circumstances of postmodern representation: they simultaneously are about something particular, everything in general, and nothing whatsoever. In a process of circular meaning, the work embodies the postmodern concept that all representations refer only to other representations. Working in his studio, Carl Chiarenza (b. 1935) arranges scrap materials to make collages specifically to be photographed. In the tradition of Alfred Stieglitz, Minor White, and Aaron Siskind, Chiarenza’s pensive symbols formulate a connection between the mind and nature that elicits inner emotional states. This work often references the landscape and it deconstructs formal media boundary lines and allows photography to merge with sculpture, graphic design, and painting. For Chiarenza photography is a process of transformation and, as such, he utilizes photography’s illusional qualities to remind viewers about the differences between a photograph and reality. Artists such as Sarah Charlesworth (1947– 2013) and James Casebere (b. 1953) manufactured stylized “signs” to present archetypal situations. Casebere’s  In The Second Half of the Twentieth Century51 deploys his handcrafted miniatures along with text to examine the way society entrusts toys to encode cultural messages to children. The practice of building and photographing models allows artists to contemplate their subject by physically

But to me the real power of photography is based in death: The fact that somehow it can enliven that which is not there in a kind of stultifyingly frightened way, because it seems to me that part of one’s life is made up of a constant confrontation with one’s own death. And I think that photography has really met its viewers with that reminder.50

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© CARL CHIARENZA. Untitled Triptych, 56/55/54, 1996. 5 × 11 feet. Gelatin silver prints. Chiarenza states: “The problem is to get the viewer to release the commonly but falsely held belief in the photograph as a window; to get the viewer to go through the window in a state of openness to a new experience, not a representation of one that has already occurred.”52

interacting with ‘them’ over a period of time. The models serve as abstract stand-ins for previous ways of representing the subject, prompting viewers to question how images become loaded with intentions and how this affects their own thoughts about the subject. Synthetic archetypes also permit artists to combine or incorporate subjects that do not physically exist, as in Casebere’s moody recreation of the prison of the Bastille. Such recreations play with notions of traditional photographic time by permitting pre-photographic subject matter to be fixed in photographic form.

© JAMES CASEBERE. Panopticon Prison #3, 1993. 22¾ × 25¾ inches. Waterless lithograph. Casebere practices constructive photography by reducing his images to their bare essentials. He accomplishes this by fabricating tabletop sized models out of common materials such as cardboard and Styrofoam, which he dramatically lights. His photographs are unpopulated, encouraging viewers to project themselves into the space he has created. COURTESY  Sean Kelly Gallery, New York.

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© LAURIE SIMMONS. Woman Opening Refrigerator/Milk in the Middle, 1979. 6 1⁄8 × 9½ inches. Dye destruction print. Laurie Simmons employs dolls, puppets, and other anthropomorphized subjects to judiciously comment on consumerism, domesticity, and objectification and their effect on women. Being a cinemaphile Simmons “realized early on that artifice attracted me to an image more than any other quality—I mean artifice in the sense of staging and heightened color and exaggerated lighting, not a surreal or fictive moment… I think the lighting and feeling of Cinemascope, the movies I saw as a kid, always stayed with me as a kind of glorious vision of reality.”53 COURTESY  Salon 94, New York

Another member of the Picture Generation, Laurie Simmons (b. 1949) stages miniature figures and environments as stand-ins for suburban middle-class societal models and gender stereotypes. Her strategy, surrounding  In and Around the House  (1983),54  often included a dollhouse, symbolizing the loss of childhood innocence, where small-scale figures reenact scenes of how society teaches women (and by default men) to behave. Her deployment of toy figures, puppets, ventriloquists’ dummies, and eventually real women portrayed as living dolls provide the necessary distancing for Simmons to scrutinize and disclose the patriarchal customs that express and teach our cultural behavior models. Dealing with similar themes, Ellen Brooks’s (b. 1946) tableaux incorporate miniature substitutes that displace the sentimental nostalgia of the dollhouse with a disquieting

and trenchant milieu of sexual anxiety. Since 1972 David Levinthal (b. 1949) has been utilizing toys within dioramas to create mythological references to comment on American culture and historical events that appear in books including: Hitler Moves East (1977), The Wild West (1993), Baseball (2009) and History (2015). Sandy Skoglund  (b. 1946) makes room-sized installations of absurd situations in supersaturated, contrasting colors. Skoglund often builds these sets to portray adult anxieties in childlike models and/or surreal confrontations between nature and culture, which she then photographs. Her installation photography is a mixture of sculpture and photography that humorously expresses the continuing need artists have to be physically involved in the process of making objects. “Instead of taking everything out, like Minimalism did, I

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© SANDY SKOGLUND. Revenge of the Goldfish, 1981. 30 × 40 inches. Dye-destruction print. Skoglund’s colorful, surrealist installations go beyond their initial comic absurdity and present viewers with multiple layers of dream-like symbolism that open the interpretation of her work to continual reinvention. Skoglund states: “My work involves the physical manifestation of emotional reality. Thus, the invisible becomes visible; the normal, abnormal; and the familiar, unfamiliar. Ordinary life is an endless source of fascination to me in its ritualistic objects and behavior.”55

turned around and started to put everything back in,”56 said Skoglund. The emphasis remains on controlling the subject while creating juxtapositions normally unseen in nature that reveals the tensions between the internal and external worlds. Utilizing photography as a unifying container of meaning, Skoglund does not want to get caught up in making things look “natural” for the camera. She does not see fabrication as being cynical or out of touch with reality, but as a place where “the world of ideas and the world of appearances come together.”57  With

that combination realized in her works, viewers might contemplate the connections between the natural and the man-made environments. Olivia Parker’s (b. 1941) enigmatic still-life assemblages, featuring organic and inorganic subject matter such as flowers and maps, rely on a process of recontextualization to achieve their “human implications.” Her juxtapositions, reverberating on the legacy of Dutch and Flemish painting, intersect with Cubism and Constructivism, describing a realm of interior spaces and inner states. Parker

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© JOEL -PETER WITKIN. Still Life, Marseilles, 1992. 26 × 32 inches. Toned gelatin silver print. Witkin considers that: “When I’m working with a severed head, I’m engaged in very direct spiritual dialogue… My job, given the opportunity, is to put flowers into the remainder of his brain, as if it were the well of my existence.”58 COURTESY  Bruce Silverstein Gallery, New York, and Baudoin LeBon, Paris.

society. His morbid Hieronymus Bosch-like scenes, replete with corpses, fetuses, and hermaphrodites, suggest that hell is a current state of being. Witkin compares his work with the last trial of St. Francis of Assisi, who confronted the demise of his own flesh by kissing a leper’s pus-filled lips and saw the leper turn into Christ. As with the writings of the Marquis de Sade, Witkin’s grotesque permutations of bestiality, crucifixion, and sadomasochism have a commanding physical appearance that allows us to see that beauty and evil are not always, or ever, mutually exclusive. Witkin tells us:

elegantly suggests themes, such as death, sensuality, and physical and spiritual travel, but she does not provide definitive meanings. A major focus of her work has been on how our understanding of the world has shifted and reshifted from alchemy and magic, to an empirical mechanical model, to a realm of theoretical mathematics (or chaos theory).59  Parker believes that part  of being creative is the ability to dive off into the unknown. She asserts: “It’s not just the willingness to go off the edge; it’s the ability to move and act without knowing exactly what’s going to happen.”60 The studio tableaux combined with the legacy of surrealism in the work of Joel-Peter Witkin (b. 1939) upsets photography’s associations with the real. Witkin blends the erotic and the macabre to examine areas that are considered off-limits by

The Grotesque derives from grotto, the caverns and subterranean darkness. Saints loved the darkness because that’s where you go to bring out the people who are drowning. When I, as an individual, continue my

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© PATRICK NAGATANI and ANDRÉE TRACEY. Alamogordo Blues, 1986. 20 × 31 inches. Diffusion transfer print. When describing his Nuclear Enchantment series, Nagatani wrote: “I intentionally show a leveled world. Polluted skies, contaminated earth, nuclear explosions, fantastic happenings are all seen in the same light… I hope that they are captivating and enigmatic. I want them to remind us of the spiritual poverty of the technical age.” 61

their unorthodox craftsmanship, provide an atmosphere of age, giving his prints an aura of authenticity and suffering. Within the studio, Witkin conjures up artifice and reality, using historical art references to speculate on allegorical, conceptual, religious, and sexual potentialities. His psychic theater of the flesh does not describe the outer world, but instead offers a mental projection of an emotional and spiritual state that transcends our physical existence. His images, like those conjured up by Franz Kafka, depict archetypes of alienation, physical and psychological brutality, and bizarre characters in need of deliverance from their condition. Fabricating environments for the camera allowed the team of  Patrick Nagatani  (1945–2017) and  Andrée Tracey  (b. 1948) to densely pack symbols from popular culture into a controlled

journey into perception and better  realities, I have to engage the person in darkness because I’m in darkness… We all have to make a decision as to what we’re basically serving. If your life and work are about despair, there’s no resolution, no redemption.62

Witkin uses the darkroom to tamper with expectations about the imagery a photograph delivers and how a photograph looks. He often reinforces the brutality of his scenes by scratching the negative and staining and vignetting the print, giving us the feeling that his prints “were to be punished for the vision they carried.”63 Witkin also exposes areas of the print through tissue—flat, wrinkled, wet, or dry—for a selective visual softening, and he uses toners to produce a warm effect. These nonconformist methods, which some consider heretical for

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© JEFF WALL. Dead Troops Talk (A Vision after an Ambush of a Red Army Patrol, near Moqor, Afghanistan, Winter 1986), 1992. 90 3⁄8 × 1643⁄16 inches. Transparency in a light box. Inspired by war photographers and Francisco Goya’s The Disasters of War prints (1810‒1820), Wall produced a scene reminiscent of a zombie horror film in a suburban Vancouver studio using a team of actors in borrowed military garb, plenty of fake blood and digital postproduction to portray thirteen carnivalesque Soviet soldiers rising from the dead during the Soviet-Afghan War.

situation. The influence of movie special effects appears in their extensive sets and painted backdrops, which also recall Nagatani’s work as a Hollywood set painter. Their images contradict our expectations as the outer logic of photographic truth commingles with modern anxieties, allowing an interior landscape to come into view. Nagatani’s book Nuclear Enchantment (1991) employs similar strategies to metaphorically examine the histories and social issues surrounding America’s nuclear culture and the events that have shaped it, including the internment of Japanese Americans during World War II and its environmental consequences. Philip-Lorca diCorcia (b. 1953), Gregory Crewdson (b. 1962), and  Jeff Wall  (b. 1946) take a similar conceptual approach to scripting out their

photographs. Staging his images for the camera, diCorcia has models perform familiar domestic scenes, like a man staring into an open refrigerator at night, in order to convey existential dread. Working with a film crew and combining multiple exposures, Crewdson builds pristine cinematic tableaux that depict the psychological pathos of a suburban America where people anxiously stare into space seemingly searching for something they have lost or have yet to find. Wall deals with metaphysical panic by digitally orchestrating elaborate and obsessive scenes, like Dead Troops Talk (1986), which meditates on anxiety, fear, and violence. Such images challenge assumptions by asking: Is a constructed image innately less truthful than a decisive moment? Or, can an assembled picture

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VIK MUNIZ. Washington Crossing the Delaware, After Emanuel Leutze, from the series Pictures of Magazines 2, 2012. 60 × 108¼ inches. Chromogenic color print. Vik Muniz says: “There’s no way to discover without being involved in the making of it and through the process, you start to realize the mechanics of representations.” Muniz goes on to state: “I’m a visual grammatolgist. I’m breaking images into little pieces, because you can’t break them into rules as you would with language. Images exist in the reality of experience that is different than language. Images are more open… Visual education plays a major role in a post-photographic environment because pictures don’t prove anything anymore… In the absence of the document, the only way we can trust that things are happening in a certain order or are happening in a certain direction is if we invest enormously in visual education.”64 Art © Vik Muniz/Licensed by VAGA, New York, NY.

reveal previously unseen truths? After all, both types of photographs assemble ambiguous facts and fictions camouflaged as truth in order to describe real situations; the constructed image merely defies the traditional photographic approach of grabbing the scene out of the flow of unstaged real time events. By skating the edge between life and theater these imagemakers reveal certain veiled stories, mythic forms, and perplexing situations that also, in fact, make up our existence. Vik Muniz (b. 1961 as Vicente José de Oliveira Muniz) energetically combines photography with other media to re-envision his subjects and promote

looking with more attention. By working with unusual materials, such as chocolate, dust, garbage, ketchup, sewing thread, skywriting, sugar, and syrup, Muniz establishes original ways to visualize his subjects. “There’s no way to discover without being involved in the making of it,” says Muniz, “and through the process, you start to realize the mechanics of representation.”65 For instance, Muniz collected dust from the Whitney Museum of Art galleries that he then used to make drawings based on installation photographs of minimalist and post-minimalist art from the museum’s archives. He then photographed his dust drawings to

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generate representations of representations in order to confront the topic of originality and reproduction. Muniz’s images point out the contrivances for transmitting reality rather than  an idea of reality itself. This reflects his belief that only after ridding itself of the responsibility of duplicating reality is it possible for art to have something to say. This can be seen in his Pictures of Magazines series, where portraits and still lifes are constructed out of tiny pieces of circular colored paper, hole-punched from magazines and arranged like paint dabs to generate fascinating simulacrums. In his Pictures of Magazines 2, Muniz employs torn magazine images to construct re-renderings of paintings by Paul Cézanne, Vincent Van Gogh, Emanuel Leutze, and Édouard Manet, that he then photographs and enlarges into mural-sized prints. The eye continually vibrates when examining these works, focusing back and forth between the synthesized image and its composite parts, positing that there is no secure Truth, only fluid perception.

clock is photographed 36 times as it is turning counter-clockwise. The resulting images were ordered into 48 × 96 inch grids, which further diminished the subject and forced a viewer’s attention to issues of time and space to examine the underlying structure of how an image is experienced. The structuralist filmmaker  Hollis Frampton (1936–1984) and Marion Faller (1941–2014) utilized adjoining 35mm frames to humorously explore real-time activity and pay homage to Eadweard Muybridge.66 In their Vegetable Locomotion series the grid is deployed to lend the appearance of empirical science to present the illusion of progression of immobile subjects. Mike Mandel  carries on a similarly satirical critique in  Making Good Time  (1989), applying early-twentieth-century beliefs about how to scientifically manage time/ space reality to the domestic middle-class culture of southern California. Mandel’s tableaux, based on the Gilbreths’ work (see Chapter 10), reveal the limited nature of photographically portrayed time and deconstruct the supposed model of reality that it assembles. Christian Marclay’s (b. 1955)  The Clock  (2010), a looped 24-hour montage, edited from about 12,000 film and television clips, functions as a clock by interlacing timepieces, human actions, along with a synchronized soundtrack to simultaneously evoke Newton’s mathematical model of absolute time with Einstein’s theory of relativity and motion. Although their approaches were diverse, these artists all shared the desire to transform and expand the photographic experience as predicated on the supremacy of the single image of a moment in time. Their efforts at reimagining time and space helped to widen the discussion concerning the nature of photographic representation. Barbara Kasten’s (b. 1936) constructivist studio assemblages formally intermix color, line, perspective, texture, and volume to dissect hypothetically designed spaces into separate sectors. Her work  seemed so in tune with postmodern architecture that Kasten left her studio to

ALTERING TIME AND SPACE Imagemakers like Jan Dibbets (b. 1941), Eve Sonneman (b. 1946), and Lew Thomas (1932–2021) investigated the cultural functions of photography as influenced by the sequential nature of film, by serial forms of minimal art, and by the use of language in conceptual art. Often working with multiple images and the stability of the grid pattern to ground their compositions, they expressed conceptualist concerns with real time, information systems, and theories of knowledge and process, and they challenged the notion of a singular, stable existence. Thomas, who wrote Structural(ism) and Photography (1978), would expose thirty-six frames of black-and-white 35mm film of a mundane subject, making only slight compositional changes in each frame, as in Time Equals 36 Exposures (1971), in which a GraLab darkroom

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© HOLLIS FRAMPTON and MARION FALLER. Apple Advancing from the series Sixteen Studies from Vegetable Locomotion, 1975. 11 × 14 inches. Gelatin silver print.

© MIKE MANDEL. Emptying the Fridge, 1985. From Making Good Time, 1989. 20 × 24 inches. Dye-destruction print.

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incorporate actual buildings as sites to “reorganize the visual environment.”67  Her large-scale, interdisciplinary productions were indicative of an era where photographers became scene builders, managing skilled crews to handle the lights, colored gels, mirrors, and scrims to alter our perception of how things appear by disorienting our customary sense of reflectiveness and transparency. But by recording everything in a single moment, with no multiple exposures or post-camera manipulations, Kasten re- and/or de-stabilizes the visual characteristics of light and mass, expressively asserting new possibilities within and beyond the familiar photographic reality. The sanctity of the individual image was assailed by artist David Hockney (b. 1937) as he explored multifaceted representations of a subject. Dissatisfied with the way photography rendered depth

and represented time and space, Hockney believed that people gave conventional photographs only a brief look because they lacked “lived time.” “Life is precisely what they don’t have … photography is all right if you don’t mind looking at the world from the point of view of a paralyzed cyclops—for a split second.”68  Hockney expresses philosopher Henri Bergson’s idea that matter is in constant movement. One way to convey this reality is through a synthetic view of a subjective experience, an artist’s projection of self-awareness onto the external world. Hockney did this by making numerous photographs of a scene and arranging the resulting prints into a collage that navigates a dynamic interaction of motion, space, and time. His canvas-sized visions bring together an expanded collection of components observed over time and fabricated into a grand, extended, constantly changing entirety. By

© DAVID HOCKNEY. Pearblossom Hwy, April 11–18, 1986 (2nd version). 78 × 111 inches. Chromogenic color prints. Hockney spent a week making hundreds of 4 x 6 inch photographs to construct a painterly photocollage that emphasizes surfaces and space to convey the sensation of driving without including an automobile. COURTESY

The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles, CA.

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© MICHAEL SPANO. Untitled (Used Shoes), 1984. 46 × 55 inches. Gelatin silver print. Spano builds postmodern associations by juxtaposing his subject(s) in space and time. The sequence camera allows Spano to physically move through a scene as each of the eight lenses exposes a different section of the film, creating an interval of time that is longer than a single instantaneous moment.

interrupting space and displacing time, Hockney broke the perspective of the Renaissance window, carrying his swaying synthetic images beyond the edges of the frame, dissolving the rectangle. Joyce Neimanas (b. 1944) did similar work, arranging Polaroid SX-70 prints, not to reproduce the scene as the camera may have seen it, but according to her own internal rules of perspective. Michael Spano  (b. 1949) operated a GraphCheck sequence camera to make a two-tiered grid of eight separate exposures onto a single piece of 4 × 5-inch film, reminiscent of the nineteenth-

century carte de visite’s multi-lens cameras, as he actively moved the camera into and through an urban scene. The motion in his work dynamically visualizes the chaotic and frenzied nature of postmodern city life: subjects appear, disappear, reappear, and move about within a scene; Renaissance time and space collapses; ordinary transactions dissolve into uncommon incidents. The juxtaposition of images invites viewers to make fresh associations. As the narrative format dematerializes, a new perception comes into being, presenting the world in a state of multiplicity.

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© HOLLY ROBERTS. Mud Truck, 2006. 30 × 80 inches. Mixed media. Roberts notes: “My unconscious intelligence directs my hands to tell the materials where to go. It allows the emotional/spiritual channels to open up. This does not happen because we think about, explain it, or conceptualize it. It occurs because we put our hands in it and that act takes us somewhere else.”69

Holly Roberts (b. 1951) lived in the Zuni Pueblo during the 1980s where she found that the Zuni belief in multiple realities—wherein a person might be transposed into an animal—reinforced her own intuitive beliefs. Roberts obliterates the mechanical photographic image with paint, opening a path that treads a line between mystery and realism and allowing visceral feelings to dominate the subject matter. Real world time is left behind as observers engage with the visual presence of an altered dreamlike state and the physicality of the pictures themselves, which meditate on cultural history, human emotions, the landscape, and interpersonal relationships. This permits Roberts to usurp the authenticity of the photographic rendition of reality and/or to oppose or parallel it with her painting. In addition to single images, Roberts also cut out portions of her photographs and mounted them together on canvas, permitting her to work on a larger scale, combine parts of different images, and obtain a richer intricacy of surface quality and texture. Doug Starn and Mike Starn (b. 1961), the Starn Twins, have cultivated ideas of replication and the

possibility of identical doubles. Often consciously basing their work on historical paintings, the Starns were first noticed in the 1987 Whitney Museum of American Art Biennial for their brusqueness of surface and inconsistencies of scale and space created by splattering chemicals, tearing prints, and putting pictures together with transparent tape. A pseudo-antique patina of cracked emulsions, creases, and torn edges gives their images a sense of time and decay, making their often familiar content seem like a retelling of Western history. Their handbased studio method, embracing the fluidity of time, is not so much a postmodern deconstruction as it is a romantic reconstruction, recalling the building of Western civilization. The borrowing of figures and compositional schema from past artistic movements places them in these earlier traditions while hinting at how the past can easily invade the present. Their complex sculptural approach, relying on forging connections among glass, Plexiglas, wood, silicone, and pipe-clamps, yields seductive, fetishistic objects that mock the efforts of collectors and curators to preserve original works. The Starns, rather

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© DOUG and MIKE STARN. Double Stark Portrait in Swirl, 1985–1986. 99 × 99 inches. Toned gelatin silver print and tape. In this work the theme of the twin or doppelgänger, an apparition or double of a living person, is in play, allowing viewers to see themselves seeing themselves. Conceptually, the Starns’ work is built from many individual image components, providing the “connective tissue” that binds the photographic pieces together. More recent installations, such as Big Bambú (2010), follow the same premise, only using nylon rope and bamboo in place of tape and photographs. Mike Starn elaborates, “It is at those intersections where all the activity happens and something gets made.”70

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© ABELARDO MORELL. Camera Obscura: View of the Brooklyn Bridge in Bedroom, 2009. Variable dimensions. Inkjet print. Abelardo Morell apprises us: “In order to push the visual potential of this process, I began to use color film and positioned a lens over the hole in the window plastic in order to add to the overall sharpness and brightness of the incoming image. Now, I often use a prism to make the projection come in right side up. I have also been able to shorten my exposures considerably thanks to digital technology, which in turn makes it possible to capture more momentary light. I love the increased sense of reality that the outdoor has in these new works. The marriage of the outside and the inside is now made up of more equal partners.”71 COURTESY

Edwynn Houk Gallery, New York.

than neutralizing the physical carrier of the photographic message, make the carrier as aesthetically consequential as the image. Against the widening backdrop of digital technology, artists like Adam Fuss (b. 1961) and Abelardo Morell  (b. 1948) alter conventional photographic notions of time and space by returning to the most direct and fundamental principles of photography. Fuss dispenses with the camera to produce large color photograms that remove the mechanical

obstacles between himself and his subjects. Referencing one of his photograms that incorporates egg yolk, Fuss states: I like the idea of things being as they are. A photogram can be two things at the same time. It’s light passing through the egg yolk; the fact that it looks like the sun is wonderful, but it is an egg yolk. It’s the perfect metaphor.72

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© CHRIS MCCAW. Sunburn GSP #676 (San Francisco Bay), 2013. 8 × 10 inches. Gelatin silver paper negative.In the making of his unique gelatin silver paper negatives, McCaw exclaims: “Once you start a fire in your camera it is a game changer. You see smoke and it smells like roasted marshmallows. None of the shutters work on any of my lenses. They have been cooked! It is so basic. It’s just glass and a lens cap.”73 COURTESY  Yossi Milo Gallery, New York.

Morell was a street photographer who in 1991 decided to convert rooms into pinhole camera obscuras. He then operates a view camera inside the camera obscura to make extended (eight hours and longer) black-and-white exposures that record the composite image produced by the pinhole projection of what is outside the space upon whatever is inside the room itself. This dualistic engagement transforms the subjects into alternative, upsidedown visions of themselves.

For his Sunburn work, Chris McCaw (b. 1971) builds his own cameras and places expired gelatin silver paper into the camera’s film holders. Then he makes extended exposures ranging from several hours up to a 20-hour duration that essentially cooks his camera and materials. The subject of McCaw’s extensions of time, featuring the horizons of primordial landscapes and seascapes, is the sun’s trajectory as it literally burns its path across the paper’s surface. Often, the energy from the sun

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notes

sears directly through the photographic paper while solarizing the resulting image—converting it from a negative to a positive. The solarization process that produces this tonal reversal is the result of massive overexposure, and it can produce iridescent purple tones that McCaw enhances with selenium toning. McCaw’s recording of our sun’s path turns what would conventionally be considered an aesthetic and technical failure into something of wonderment, by giving representation to a familiar yet intangible phenomenon—our earth’s orbit around the sun—in a forthright manner. These gestural and visceral images, rendered by fire and smoke, convey the friction between creation and destruction. There is a cosmic sense of substantialness in McCaw’s pictures. His stunning prints possess a deep and fragile elemental connection to the earth, for they arise as three-dimensional, alchemical transformations of the landscape that bear slight resemblance to a straight photograph. The paper negatives record a spatial distillation of nature that blends movement, space, and time to materially challenge the longstanding pictorial formulas of flatness and stationary time, thereby demonstrating the incredible flexibility of chemical photography.

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See Omar Kholeif, ed., Moving Image: Documents of Contemporary Art (Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press, 2015). Editioning is the process of making a limited number of prints in order to make each print more accessible and profitable. Each print is signed and numbered, such as 07/25, to indicate its unique number within the size of the edition. See the 2015 exhibition The Immovable Camera: Copy Art in the Bay Area 1980–1984  that was presented in the Tower Fine Arts Gallery at the College at Brockport, State University of New York. Details at www. lightresearch.net. This project’s theme was expanded into a larger exhibition and publication, Fast, Cheap, & Easy: The Copy Art Revolution (2018) at the CEPA Gallery in Buffalo, NY, featuring over 100 international artists. Chapter 17, “Changing Realities,” discusses this topic in more detail. For foundational and critical writings on semiotics as related to photography, see Charles Sanders Peirce, “Logic as Semiotic: The Theory of Signs” (circa 1900), and Rosalind Krauss, “Notes on the Index: Seventies Art in America” (1977), and Peter Geimer, “Image as Trace: Speculations about an Undead Paradigm” (2007), in Andrew E. Hershberger, ed.,  Photographic Theory: An Historical Anthology  (Boston, MA and Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell, 2014), 100–4, 246–50, and 430–35 respectively. Joan Lyons, http://joanlyons.com/xerox.htm John Baldessari in Jeanne Siegel, ed., “John Baldessari: Recalling Ideas,” Art Talk: The Early 80s (New York: Da Capo, 1988), unabridged reprint of  Artwords 2  (Ann Arbor, MI: UMI Research Press, 1988), 40. Here Baldessari echoes Joel Snyder and Neil Walsh Allen’s renowned assessment and conclusion from their article “Photography, Vision, and Representation” (1975), reprinted in Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 269–75. Ibid., 38. This book was part of the third project of Four By Three, a series of four exhibitions and concurrent artists’ residencies in 1980–81, jointly sponsored by the Albright-Knox Art Gallery, CEPA Gallery (The Center for Exploratory and Perceptual Art), and Hallwalls in Buffalo, NY. John Baldessari in Siegel, ed., “John Baldessari: Recalling Ideas,” 42. “Art Without the Artist,” Geoff Edgers,  The Boston Globe, January 8, 2008.

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phy, see A. D. Coleman, “The Directorial Mode: Notes Toward a Definition” (1976), in Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 276–83. See also A. D. Coleman, “Return of the Suppressed/Pictorialism’s Revenge,” Border Crossings 27, no. 4 (2008), 72–79. Arnulf Rainer,  Arnulf Rainer: Face-farces, Body poses 1968–1975, exhibition catalogue (Paris: Galerie Stadler, 1975), unp. William Wegman, National Public Radio interview on WBFO, Buffalo, NY, January 15, 1995. Interview with Lynda Morris in  Bernd & Hilla Becher (London: Arts Council of Great Britain, 1974), unp. Hilton Kramer, “Intentionally Starving the Eye,”  The New York Times, October 9, 1977. http://query. nytimes.com/mem/archive/pdf?res=9A0DE3DE133CE731A2575A-C0A9669D946690D6CF. Quoted in Chris Wiley, “What Bernd and Hilla Becher Saw in the Remnants of Industry,” The New Yorker, November 8, 2022, https://www.newyorker.com/ culture/photo-booth/what-bernd-and-hilla-bechersaw-in-the-remnants-of-industry Op cit., Interview with Lynda Morris in Bernd & Hilla Becher, unp. For details on the role of neoplatonism in the formation of photographic practice, see Kathleen Campbell, “Nature and the Cosmic Circle: A Philosophical Study of Conflicts in Western Culture and Their Relation to Nineteenth Century Photography,” unpublished M.F.A. dissertation, University of New Mexico, Albuquerque, 1994. James Alinder,  Cumming Photographs  (Carmel, CA: Friends of Photography, 1979), 5–6. Douglas Huebler, title page,  Crocodile Tears  (Brief fictions re-sounding from the proposal in Variable Piece #70:1971 “to photographically document the … existence of everyone alive.”) (Buffalo, NY: The AlbrightKnox Art Gallery and CEPA Gallery, 1985), unp. Leo Steinberg, “Other Criteria,” in Other Criteria: Confrontations with Twentieth-Century Art (London, Oxford, New York: Oxford University Press, 1972), 55–91, esp. 91. Within Modernism, perhaps no single writer focused more attention on “purifying” each medium—including photography—than Clement Greenberg. See Greenberg, “The Camera’s Glass Eye” (1946), in Hershberger, ed.,  Photographic Theory, 136–38. Postmodernism can

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thus be regarded as a counterpoint and/or rebellion against this Greenbergian purification of artistic media. See Roland Barthes, “From Work to Text,” in Brian Wallis, ed., Art After Modernism: Rethinking Representation (Boston, MA: Godine, 1984), 169–74. As Derrida argued in relation to photography: “There is no perception of a natural or naturally present reality.” See Derrida’s deconstructive process at work in excerpts from his  Right of Inspection  (1985), in Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 310–14, quote on 313. See Jean Baudrillard, “The Precession of the Simulacra,” in Simulations, translated by Paul Foss, Paul Patton, and Philip Beitchman (New York: Semiotext(e) 1983). Gerhard Richter, Text, Writings, Interviews and Letters 1961–2007 (London: Thames & Hudson, 2009), 81. Gerhard Richter, quoted in Lynne Cook, “Gerhard Richters Atlas.” www.diacenter.org/exhibs/richter/atlas/ essay.html. For an analysis of Richter’s “out of focus” works that relates them to pictorialism in the history of photography, see Rosemary Hawker, “The Idiom in Photography as the Truth in Painting” (2002) in Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 394–98. See Ernst van Alphen,  Caught by History: Holocaust Effects in Contemporary Art, Literature, and Theory (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1997). See Marianne Hirsch, “Surviving Images: Holocaust Photographs and the Work of Postmemory” (2001), in Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 408–11 and Marianne Hirsch, The Generation of Postmemory: Writing and Visual Culture After the Holocaust (New York: Columbia University Press, 2012). Hirsch makes a case that memories of traumatic events live on to mark the lives of those who were not there to experience them. Sabine Mirlesse, “On Life, Death, God and Working Very Little: ASX In Conversation with Christian Boltanski,” December 28, 2015, www.americansuburbx. com/2015/12/on-life-death-god-and-working-very-little-asx-in-conversation-with-christian-boltanski-2015. html?mc_cid=5258e547a6&mc_eid=fdb64c2568 Fredric Jameson, “Postmodernism and Consumer Society,” in The Anti-Aesthetic (Port Townsend, WA: Bay Press, 1983), 114–15. Douglas Crimp, “Pictures,” October 8 (Spring 1979) and “The Photographic Activity of Postmodernism,” October 15 (Winter 1980). See Burgin, ed.,  Thinking Photography  (London: Macmillan, 1982). Editors Elspeth H. Brown and Thy Phu

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of Feeling Photography (Durham, NC and London: Duke University Press, 2014), specifically cite  Thinking Photography as both a critical inspiration and as a limitation in terms of its approach to the medium (pp. 2–3). The Metropolitan’s exhibition featured 160 works in various media by thirty artists, many of whom are discussed in this chapter. For details see Douglas Eklund,  The Pictures Generation, 1974–1984  (New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2009). See Douglas Crimp [exhibition curator], “Pictures,” as reproduced in X-TRA, vol. 8, no. 1 (Fall 2005), 17–30. The show presented the works of Troy Brauntuch, Jack Goldstein, Sherrie Levine, Robert Longo, and Philip Smith. RichardPrince,www.guggenheim.org/teaching-materials/ richard-prince-spiritual-america/cowboys Richard Prince, “The Perfect Tense,” in Brian Wallis, ed.,  Blasted Allegories: An Anthology of Writings by Contemporary Artists  (New York: The New Museum of Contemporary Art and Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press, 1987), 416. Richard Prince,  Why I Go to the Movies Alone  (New York: Tantam Press, 1983), 63. United States Court of Appeals 2 for the Second Circuit, Patrick Cariou v. Richard Prince, et al., April 25, 2013, http://cyber.law.harvard.edu/people/tfisher/IP/2013_ Cariou.pdf, 13. For details see: ASX Editors, “Patrick Cariou v. Richard Prince, et al.—The Appeal Verdict,” July 24, 2015, www.americansuburbx.com/2015/07/patrick-cariouv-richard-prince-et-al-the-appeal-verdict.html?mc_cid =b487dfb23f&mc_eid=fdb64c2568 “After Sherrie Levine,” Jeanne Siegel, ed., Art Talk: The Early 80s (New York: Da Capo Press, 1988), 246. Ibid., 247. Joachim Schmid, “First General Collection of Used Photographs” (1990), https://schmid.wordpress.com/ works/1990-erste-allgemeine-altfotosammlung/ Joachim Schmid, www.lumpenfotografie.de Kruger in Siegel, 307–8. Here Kruger’s 1980s thoughts echo and predict similar arguments about the changing nature of photography in the digital world advanced by A. D. Coleman and Barbara Savedoff among others. In Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, see Coleman, “The Directorial Mode: Notes Toward a Definition” (1976), 276–83, and Savedoff, “Escaping Reality: Digital Imagery and the Resources of Photography” (1997), 338–43.

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Pictures and Words,” Art Talk: The Early 80s, 303. Roland Barthes, “Rhetoric of the Image” (1964) in Image, Music, Text, Stephen Heath, trans. (New York: Hill and Wang, 1988), 32–51. Ibid. Ibid., 307–8. James Casebere,  In The Second Half of the Twentieth Century (Buffalo, NY: CEPA Gallery, 1982). Email correspondence between Carl Chiarenza and the author, March 6, 1999. Laurie Simmons, www.azquotes.com/quote/1444486 See Laurie Simmons, In and Around The House, Photographs 1976–1979 (Buffalo, NY: CEPA Gallery, 1983). Sandy Skoglund, Holden Luntz Gallery, Palm Beach, FL, September 8, 2022, www.holdenluntz.com/ magazine/photo-spotlight/sandy-skoglund-exclusiveprint-for-holden-luntz-gallery/ Nan Richardson, “Sandy Skoglund: Wild at Heart,” ART-news (April 1991), 115. Ibid., 118. R. H. Cravens, “Joel-Peter Witkin,” Aperture: On Location (Fall 1993), 58. See: James Gleick,  Chaos: Making a New Science (NewYork: Viking Penguin, 1987). Donna Conrad, “Olivia Parker: Constructions,” Camera & Darkroom, vol. 17, no. 2 (February 1995), 38. An embrace of chance as a theme in the history of photography has been explored in Robin Kelsey, Photography and the Art of Chance  (Cambridge, MA, and London: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 2015). Sam Roberts, “Patrick Nagatani, Photographer Famous for Collages, Dies at 72,” The New York Times, Nov. 13, 2017,www.nytimes.com/2017/11/13/obituaries/patricknagatani-photographer-famous-for-collages-dies-at-72. html Witkin in R. H. Cravens, “Joel-Peter Witkin,”  Aperture: On Location (Fall 1993), 58. Here Witkin strongly evokes Plato’s Cave and its frequent linkage to photography by later writers. See Plato’s text and several articles that reinforce this link in Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 12–16, 344–49, 370–76, 382–83, and 436–39. See also Susan Sontag, “In Plato’s Cave,” Chapter 1 in On Photography, by S. Sontag (New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1977), 3–24. Kathleen McCarthy Gauss in Andy Grundberg and Kathleen McCarthy Gauss, Photography and Art: Interactions Since 1946 (New York: Abbeville Press, 1987), 65.

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64 Robert Hirsch, Transformational Imagemaking: Hand-

65 66

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made Photography Since 1960 (New York & London: Focal Press, 2014), 184 &186. Vik Muniz, “Ars Brevis,” New York Times Sunday Magazine (February 11, 2001), www.nytimes.com. See Hollis Frampton,  Circles of Confusion: Film, Photography, Video Texts 1968–1980  (Rochester, NY: Visual Studies Press, 1983). Barbara London, “Public Spaces and Private Places,” American Photographer (September 1988), 48. Lawrence Weschler, Cameraworks: David Hockney (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1984), 9. Holly Roberts, telephone conversation with author, November 30, 2001. Robert Hirsch, Transformational Imagemaking: Handmade Photography Since 1960 (New York & London: Focal Press, 2014), 178. Abelardo Morell, www.abelardomorell.net/camera-obscura Jamie James, “Adam Fuss: Photographer without a Camera,” ARTnews, vol. 94, no. 2 (February 1995), 98. Robert Hirsch,  Transformational Imagemaking: Handmade Photography Since 1960  (New York and London: Focal Press, 2014), 206.

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The Politics of Representation

INVESTIGATING THE BODY

As more artists embraced conceptual strategies combined with a growing academic interest in theoretical Postmodernism, an increasing number of artists adopted the use of the camera. This served to broaden the diversity of voices and ideas that photography could include. One consequence of this action was the widening of the cultural divide between ultra conservatives and progressive liberals as each side struggled for control of the political power of images. During the late 1980s, a conservative reluctance to fund cutting-edge contemporary art caused avenues of governmental support to drop. At first funding leveled off and then diminished, slowing photography’s explosive growth and forcing a consolidation and downsizing in the field. Galleries and alternative spaces closed; auction prices dropped; student enrollments and full-time academic teaching appointments declined. As traditional public funding sources became scarcer, imagemakers turned from introspective self-portraits to more public and often raw confrontations of cultural, sexual, spiritual, and social identity, visually portraying the cultural divide and exacerbating conservative reaction as well as public understanding and acceptance. Andres Serrano  (b. 1950) integrates spiritual aspirations and the human body into his artmaking. His tableau,  Piss Christ, became an artistic cause célèbre when U.S. congressmen and religious

The 1960s and 1970s saw the emergence of Postmodernism and a more conceptual form of art photography. The artistic practices and academic theories developed in those decades, however, seemed to spread out into several veins of cultural exploration in the 1980s and beyond. The early postmodern focus on Performance Art encouraged a wide-ranging investigation of the human body, with many photographers turning their lenses onto themselves as well as to their family members and friends. The urgency of feminist studies of gender and sexuality fed directly into the expansion of artists who trained their attention to issues of multiculturalism, and to the formation of individual and social identities over time and within particular historical and geographical moments. The New Topographical, architectural, environmental, and typological studies produced by many photographers, especially the Bechers (see Chapter 18), renewed interest in the landscape as a space of cultural identity formation as well. In each of these areas, a renewed debate centered around what might be called humanism, and momentous open questions loomed about what such a term or philosophy does, or should, mean in an era of active and diverse political, environmental, and social changes.

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and speaks directly to the soul.” 3 Serrano titles his work so that viewers will know the bodily source of his materials: blood, milk, menses, semen, and urine. His large-scale photographs of bodily fluids open a discourse around society’s anxiety surrounding the transmission of the HIV virus through drug- and sex-related behaviors. The use of text to alter a viewer’s perception also becomes a way for Serrano to connect the corporeality of his body with the spiritual nature of Christ. In naming Piss Christ, he recasts a solemn cultural symbol—a crucifix— into a representation of societal rebellion against the Church, which in turn “pissed” many people off. Serrano’s use of symbols and contexts is postmodern; he disrupts the pleasure one expects to receive from an icon of spiritual solace. Some multicultural critics have argued that North American artists of color, like Serrano, are forced to learn the ways of the dominant culture alongside their own, often mixed, cultures and live perilously between the two. Only these outsiders, like Serrano, become capable of provoking real change in how encoded cultural messages are read. Critic Lucy Lippard stated that “Serrano’s work is part of the polyphonous discourse many Third World scholars have been calling for; he challenges the boundaries formed by class and race, and between abstraction and representation, photography and painting, belief and disbelief.” 4 Whether photographing Ku Klux Klan members in full regalia, bodies in a morgue, or a rap music star, Serrano attempts to “take a formal tradition and subvert it by inverting the images, abstracting that which we take for granted, in an attempt to question not only photography, but [his] own experience and social reality.” 5 In the politically conservative 1980s, the Christian right wing started a culture war as a conspicuous way for people to express their political beliefs concerning the type of society Americans should live in.6  Robert Mapplethorpe’s (1946–1989) homoerotic and sadomasochistic images became a flash point for conservative members of Congress, who

© ANDRES SERRANO. Piss Christ, 1987. 60 × 40 inches. Dye-destruction print. Serrano walks the line between the sacred and the sensationally profane in images such as Piss Christ and his The History of Sex. Serrano has stated that: “I think God created the body for a reason and we were meant to exploit it.” 1 COURTESY  Yvon Lambert, New York and Paris.

leaders attacked it.2 Intended not to malign religion but to return sacred concerns to the creative process, Serrano’s work is informed by “unresolved feeling about [his] own Catholic upbringing which helped [him] redefine and personalize [his] relationship with God. For [Serrano], art is a moral and spiritual obligation that cuts across all manner of pretense

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found these explicit images so disturbing that they called for their censorship.7  Mapplethorpe built his flawlessly ordered and crafted images on conflict and contradiction, much like our own society. He photographed  human genitalia and flowers, the reproductive organs of plants, as equal objects of fascination but evoking very different responses. Filmmaker/author Michael Gill calls them “calculating and intense; cold and intimate; abstract and erotic; cruel and witty; classical and pornographic; clinical yet human.”8  Mapplethorpe’s highly formalized yet personal portraits pushed taboo areas of sexuality, especially male homosexuality into the mainstream gaze at a time when AIDS was seen as a frightening and stigmatizing public health crisis limited to the gay community. His erotic works of women, like bodybuilder Lisa Lyon, and of male African Americans straddle a line between formal beauty and sexual objectification.9  Mapplethorpe’s classically inspired, often headless pictures feature close views of genitalia, representing the postmodern condition that has broken everything down into fragments of specialized interest, and signifying a cultural split between old-fashioned values and a changing world. Man in Polyester Suit (1980) depicts a close-up view of a Black man’s penis sticking out of his pants. Mapplethorpe said: “I zero in on the part that I consider the perfect part in that particular model.”10 Critics labeled the image racially obscene, presenting an African American man as civilized on the outside while reinforcing the stereotype that underneath it all he is a wild sexual monster. By presenting highly sexualized imagery without the normal contextual framework of advertising or traditional nudes, Mapplethorpe defied the constraints upon which the depiction of sex in the media depends, opening a national discourse on the boundaries of art, censorship, homosexuality, and pornography. His rise in the art world gave other gay artists the resolve to express their own sensibilities without self-censorship. Mapplethorpe’s most haunting

ROBERT MAPPLETHORPE. Self-Portrait, 1988. 20 × 24 inches. Gelatin silver print. © Robert Mapplethorpe Foundation. COURTESY  Art Commerce, New York.

works provide metaphors of his life and death (from AIDS), and they present the beckoning illusion of physical beauty and its erotic power, like a pristine poisonous apple that invites one to take a bite and suffer the consequences.11 During an era when the privileged cultural position of straight white men continued to be raised and critiqued by women and minority groups, John Coplans (1920–2003), a former writer and editor of  Artforum, broke another taboo. When he was sixty-four, Coplans started a 15-year project that depicted details of his own aging body—hands, feet, back, thighs—in a direct, unflatteringly monumental

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manner. His formal, faceless close-ups are unrelenting and unsentimental reminders of diminishing capacity and mortality, visualizing an unidealized aging process that a media-driven “youth culture” has almost always repressed. These looming, highly detailed images, in which a universal body becomes landscape, possess a sculptural quality and point out how the older and non-athletic male body has been largely excluded from the modernist aesthetic. In forming this series Coplans asked himself: Why are you doing what everyone else does? Why don’t you go back to that moment when you began to photograph … and see what happens? That’s when I took my clothes off and asked my assistant to photograph me. And I was simply entranced with the process. The result was me there, but it wasn’t me, it was some archaic figure, I didn’t have any iconography, because it was all done intuitively.12

© JOHN COPLANS. Self-Portrait (Legs, Hands and Thumbs Together), 1985. Variable dimensions. Gelatin silver print.

Nan Goldin’s (b. 1953) garish, cinema vérité-style slide projection and music diary, The Ballad of Sexual Dependency  (published as a book in 1986), used 700 to 800 color transparencies and popular songs to spin a tale of abuse, drugs, and sex.13 Although her subjects seem at ease, some critics have criticized Goldin’s images as being exploitative and voyeuristic. Goldin counters that she is a member of the groups she photographs. Influenced by Larry Clark’s  Tulsa  (1971), she adopts an autobiographical snapshot approach that record colors, random gestures, and emotional turmoil to actively engage her friends, lovers, and the community that she refers to as both her “family” and her “Tribe,” which includes the gay community during an era devastated by AIDS. This permits Goldin’s unglamorous photographs to become a part of her intimate relationships, recording her subjective internal feelings rather than objective external experiences, foreshadowing the deluge of personal and sexual images people now post online. In the former, the camera joins and clarifies interactions between Goldin and

COURTESY  John Coplans Trust.

© NAN GOLDIN. Nan and Brian in Bed, NYC, 1983. 20 × 24 inches. Dye-destruction print. Goldin informs us: “My work originally came from the snapshot aesthetic… Snapshots are taken out of love and to remember people, places, and shared times. They’re about creating a history by recording a history.”14 COURTESY  Fraenkel Gallery, San Francisco, CA.

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her subjects. Goldin captures how sexual addiction is a motivating factor in functional and dysfunctional coupling, maintaining that certain people remain in destructive relationships because of their addiction to the physical gratification of sex. She believes that the estrangement people bring to their relationships derives from society’s expectations about gender roles. Goldin intends that her unpretentious images confront viewers with disconcerting behaviors that society has wanted to keep unseen. There is nothing detached or neutral about Goldin’s modus operandi. Her raw, immediate operatic sweep of private moments obscures the division  between artistic and vernacular styles, ignoring postmodern critical positions in favor of the universality of a family album whose power is derived through cumulative interaction. David Wojnarowicz (1954–1992), who died of AIDS, interwove his life and work to wrestle with issues of identity, sexuality, and the fragility of life. In opposition to Mapplethorpe, Wojnarowicz (pronounced voy-nah-ROW-vitch), an abused child and teenaged street hustler, delivered a dark vision of physical decline and death. Entirely self-taught, Wojnarowicz relied on collage, paint, and text to challenge what he called the “pre-invented existence” that discriminates and imposes a power structure on people based on ethnicity, gender, race, and sexual preference.15 In 1989, the National Endowment for the Arts decided to rescind money for an exhibition catalog about AIDS due to Wojnarowicz’s essay that criticized numerous public figures. The NEA later reversed itself. Also, during these years of the cultural wars, he successfully sued the American Family Association of Tupelo, MS, an anti-pornography lobbying group, and its leader for misrepresenting his work and damaging his reputation. His work as a filmmaker, painter, performance artist, photographer, writer, and AIDS activist made Wojnarowicz an alarming and poignant witness to the beginning of the AIDS epidemic and its impact on society.16

© DAVID WOJNAROWICZ. Where I’ll Go After I’m Gone, 1988–89. 45 × 64 inches. Gelatin silver prints, acrylic, spray paint, and collage on Masonite. COURTESY  The Artist’s Estate and P.P.O.W. Gallery, New York.

While Postmodernism has offered photographers more intellectual and taboo-breaking ways of depicting the body, creating images of nude children remains a very controversial topic. The child’s age and the surrounding circumstances—whether a child has the ability to decide whether or not to be photographed nude—has been a contentious issue. John “Jock” Sturges’s (b. 1947) nude portraits of prepubescent teenage girls led to the confiscation of his equipment and photographs by the FBI and $100,000 in legal fees (a grand jury refused to indict him).17 Images of nude children have shifted from Gertrude Käsebier’s late nineteenth-century symbols of optimism and ideal beauty to metaphors for adult desires. The issue is complicated by a societal debate on how children should be protected, how much freedom an individual can have in a pluralistic society, and when one is considered capable of granting sexual consent. Sally Mann’s (b. 1951) chronicles of her children’s lives in remote rural Virginia in  Immediate Family  (1992) raised questions concerning the boundaries of art and the responsibilities of being

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© SALLY MANN. Black Eye, 1991. 8 × 10 inches. Gelatin silver print. COURTESY  Gagosian Gallery, New York.

a parent: can young children truly give informed consent to be in sensual pictures made by their parent? Do these sensual images spring from the children, or does an adult shape them? What are the private boundaries of a child’s body? Is it courageous or exploitive to confront this time of transition that others have turned away from? Mann’s finely crafted, self-conscious, view camera tableaux, which she emphasizes were made with her children’s active participation, create a web of confessional documentary and idyllic fiction of what it is like to grow up in a natural, Southern setting. Their power depends on photography’s descriptive ability to evoke childhood feelings and memories

of energy, imagination, innocence, and sexuality. Mann said that she would have stopped  making these images if she thought they would hurt her children, and vigorously defended her position, stating, “I’m responding with the only vocabulary I have to ordinary and extraordinary situations that I see around me … But the more I look at the life of the children, the more enigmatic and fraught with danger and loss their lives become. That’s what taking any picture is about. At some point, you just weigh the risks.”18 Mann explains that her intentions with this body of work are connected to her children’s innate freedom, and tells us

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GENDER MATTERS

I think they tapped into some below-the-surface cultural unease about what it is to be a child, bringing into the dialog questions of innocence and threat and fear and sensuality and calling attention to the limitations of widely held views on childhood (and motherhood)… I celebrated the maternal passion their bodies inspired in me… I thought of them as being miraculously and sensuously beautiful.19

The rise of feminism and an examination of the “male gaze,” as coined by British feminist film theorist Laura Mulvey, as represented by the camera, brought to the forefront longstanding power issues in the depiction of women. Artists rose to this challenge by creating works that questioned gender-based stereotypes that were seen as outdated and discriminatory. This continues to be an arena for artists to explore as binary notions of gender as being limited to male and female are now being questioned by the LGBTQ+ movement that recognizes a multitude of sexual orientations beyond heterosexuality. The use of photographic tableaux had become a strategy where artists deconstructed the underlying assumptions that defined the very practice of photography.  Judith Golden’s (b. 1934) work represents the burgeoning feminist expression of the 1970s movement that rejected Modernism’s values of ideal, formal beauty. Golden’s decade-long investigation of female personas and roles examines the ways photography can transform a subject. By humorously hand-manipulating the picture surface, Golden disregards habitual aesthetic values and emotional responses. Her approach represented a penchant among artists who used handwork and appropriation to mask the distinction between the beautiful, fashion camera-crafted image and the image graphically generated by an individual. Golden assumes authority and control over her public representations, creating a groundwork that other artists, such as Cindy Sherman, would build upon. Her incorporation and subversion of pictures of women from popular magazines questions the media’s presentation of women and reveals how a manufactured magazine cover acts as a facade to conceal the real individual and sets up false standards of beauty. Golden thereby encourages viewers to look beneath the surface of an image to

Recently, Mann revealed that these pictures garnered her the attention of a stalker, reminding us that good portraits can come at the expense of the sitter. Mann writes, “I knew that it would only validate  those critics who said I put my children at risk. And it will make their vengeful day when I admit now that they were in some measure correct.”20  Regardless of intent, this shows what can happen when family photographs, made in the embrace of protected love, become public and are no longer in control of the maker who is not able to set the boundaries of how people respond to the work. This serves as a reminder that fascinating pictures can be private and local but that once a photograph becomes public it takes on a life of its own.21 This leads into a separate problem of how photographs can be utilized to exploit children. In the predigital age such images were circulated via individual prints and/or publications. One notorious case was the 1970s controversy between Irina Ionesco and Eva Ionesco, her daughter, who sued her (and won) in France because Irina kept taking erotic photos of her. This included Eva appearing, photographed by her mother, on the cover of Playboy when she was just 11 years old. Online child predators create and share this malevolent material, which is increasingly shrouded by technology. The authorities and tech companies have been unable to stop the flood of these illegal activities. Recently, tech companies identified over 45 million online photographs and videos of children being sexually abused— more than double what they found the previous year.22

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The veracity of each photograph is turned upon itself in compositions that call attention to the duality that exists between the performance and the artist. Sherman’s equivocal images do not show a single “true self ” but a series of discontinuous representations: fictionalized copies of the self that blend artifice and authenticity. This amalgam of mutable self-identities, without an original, created as a mirroring of cultural portrayals, is representative of Douglas Crimp’s theories on Postmodernism in photography. According to Crimp, We only experience reality through the pictures we make of it. To an even greater extent our experience is governed by pictures; pictures in newspapers and magazines, on television and in the cinema. Next to these pictures, firsthand experience begins to retreat, to seem more and more trivial. While it once seemed that pictures had the function of interpreting reality, it now seems that they have usurped it.23

Even though Sherman produced her own images, Crimp considered her an exemplary postmodernist because her pictures duplicated existing representations of women constructed from our shared cultural consciousness via the movies. Meaning is achieved in the Film Stills not by the represented images, but in relation to the already available images within our society. Sherman concurred:

© JUDITH GOLDEN. Barbra Streisand, from the Self-Portrait Series, 1976–1978. 14 × 11 inches. Gelatin silver print with oil paint. On her website (judithgolden.com) Judith Golden proclaims: “I am an alchemist. With the magic of photography, I transform reality into the mystical realm of myth, dreams and spirit.”

see what is really occurring and encourage women not to judge themselves against a fantasy. In her  Untitled Film Stills  (1978–1979)  Cindy Sherman  (b. 1954) appropriates the 1950s blackand-white movie publicity format, assuming female roles that unmask the Hollywood conventions of genre films, including film noir, and their objectification of women. Undertaking multiple roles as director, make-up artist, hairstylist, wardrobe mistress, model, and photographer, Sherman’s photographs question the stereotypical representation of all female “types” in the media and raise issues about personal and social identity for both sexes.

I didn’t actually lift the image… I would rehash it and spit it out, which was a different sort of process. Watching a lot of movies, looking at a lot of movie books, I absorbed as much information about the “look” of movies as possible. No one had ever literally seen any of my images until they were produced, and yet one felt the gnawing of recognition upon viewing them.24

In her next project, Sherman created large-scale tableaux of distracted women, all played by herself, in ambiguous, often angst-ridden situations, utilizing color to maintain a sensual edge. Her self-conscious

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© CINDY SHERMAN. Untitled Film Still #21, 1978. 8 × 10 inches. Gelatin silver print. When asked if she agreed with Douglas Crimp’s analysis of her work, Sherman replied, “The only way it makes sense to me now is because you’ve paraphrased the core of what was in those articles. Even though I read them at the time and understood the general concept, I couldn’t have repeated it to someone else if my life depended on it. I’ve only been interested in making the work and leaving the analysis to the critics, I could agree with many different theories in terms of their formal concepts but none of it really had any basis in my motivation for making the work.”25 COURTESY  Metro Pictures, New York.

work possesses the qualities of formal composition, control of light, and sense of play that deliver aesthetic pleasure, all elements that have been either discredited or denied by other postmodernists. Sherman’s psychological images of the masking of self-identity and her subsequent movement into the realm of myth and fairy tale (through reenacting

well-known paintings and sometimes changing the gender of the protagonist from male to female) were popular because audiences understood and appreciated the work that was internally driven and did not view her as an ideologue. By the late 1980s Sherman had reduced the female body to vulgar, fragmented byproducts:

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menstrual blood, internal organs, and vomit. This work utilizes the grotesque to remove the mask of femininity by making the internal external to reveal the visceral side of what makes us human. In the early 1990s, she armored herself with plastic prostheses. Masked by these fabricated body parts, her physical self disappeared as a comment on the disintegration of her corporeal being that also stridently attacked the fetishism of the male gaze. By the close of the 1990s, Sherman had returned to making small black-and-white prints that tightly depict dolls from popular culture. Their mangled appearance conveys a sense of sexual rage with an undercurrent of revenge. Recently, her shape-shifting work has dealt with the aging body as Sherman performs the roles of leading ladies from the Golden Age of cinema, turning herself into incarnations of Gloria Swanson and Greta Garbo among others. She accomplished this by photographing herself against a green screen, then utilizing a computer to insert backgrounds behind her. Reminiscent of classic Hollywood’s rear projection effects, many of these backgrounds reveal their digital nature and, in some cases, evoke the look of Instagram filters commonly employed by people posting selfies on social media. This led to a selfie project with W Magazine in 2017 to make Instagram portraits. Of late, she has exhibited self-portraits executed as tapestries, which were originally posted on Sherman’s Instagram. Artists such as Eileen Cowin (b. 1947) examined the unstable dynamics of the postmodern family instead of the individual by challenging the prevailing realist, documentary aesthetic by creating mises-en-scène, which can convey messages to viewers by how everything is placed before the camera, as well as the content of the scene. Cowin’s fabricated Family Docudramas emulate television soap operas and characterize the anxiety and social tension within the American family structure. The lack of text makes these stylized tableaux elusive. The gestures of participants tell onlookers that a dramatic

confrontation is taking place, but the details remain purposely vague so that viewers can fill in their own particulars. Cowin used herself, her family, and often her twin sister as players in these tableaux. When the Cowin twins appeared in the same scene, viewers could get the strange sensation that there was only one woman instead of two. This combination entity could simultaneously take on the roles of participant and observer, allowing viewers to indulge their voyeuristic impulses without having to admit to them. By breaching the conventions of familial representation and displacing their normal cultural context, Cowin both unveils and deconstructs the differences between how we think we act and how others perceive us. The Guerrilla Girls (formed 1985), an anonymous, feminist collaborative that protects its members’ identities with gorilla masks, have used photo-based images and processes in the production of street posters that criticize sexism, racism, and corruption.26 Through protests and educational activities, the Guerrilla Girls scrutinize the traditional role of women within visual culture as subjects and objects, rather than as makers of art. Also working collaboratively, Jo Spence (1934–1992) and Terry Dennett (b. 1938) created a series, Remodeling Photo-History  (1982), juxtaposing the unidealized female body with mundane landscapes featuring power lines to call attention to contradictions and myths about both women and nature. After Spence was diagnosed with breast cancer in 1982, the two investigated the significance society has given to women’s breasts. In 1986 Spence and Rosy Martin collaborated on  Photo Therapy, in which Spence, a former wedding photographer, explored issues surrounding women including beauty, marriage, and powerlessness. In her series  Strip  (1999), Jemima Stehli (b. 1961) confronted the notion of the male gaze as an active objectification of women. In this performance for the camera, noted art curators and dealers were seated against a colored backdrop and given remote

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© GUERRILLA GIRLS. Do Women Have to Be Naked to Get into the Met. Museum?, 1989. Dimensions variable. Photo offset. The Guerrilla Girls visited The Met to compare the number of women artists represented in the modern art galleries with the number of naked female bodies featured in the artworks on display. They included the statistics in a poster that asked, “Do women have to be naked to get into the Met. Museum?” The poster became an icon for its bold, graphic design, which includes a reproduction of the female nude figure from French artist Jean Auguste Dominique Ingres’s painting Grande Odalisque (1814) donning a gorilla mask. The text was impactful with its message that spoke to the lack of gender diversity at the Met and the art world of the 1980s.

control of the moment of exposure. With her back to the camera and facing her male subject, she began to disrobe. This “strip show” ended when the shutter was released, depicting and implicating her male subjects in a range of attitudes from the demure and slightly embarrassed to the lecherous, based on their willingness to allow her to fully disrobe. Stehli has also made photographs in which she inserts herself into well-known artworks by male artists. Lauren Greenfield  (b. 1966) chronicles the sociological aspects of the role of the body in youth culture.  Girl Culture  (2002) examines the clandestine world in which girls use their bodies as projects to fashion their identity. Fast Forward (2004) looks at how the  materialistic trappings of image and celebrity affect Los Angeles youth, from the gangs of South Central and East L.A. to the affluent children of the Hollywood show-business world. Thin (2006) explores how external appearances can clash with self-perceptions to produce eating disorders. Generation Wealth (2017) is a multi-platform project that

examines our growing desire to be wealthy, at any cost. Greenfield states: I have been interested in documenting the pathological in the everyday … in the tyranny of the popular and thin girls over the ones who don’t fit that mold … in the fact that to fall outside the ideal body type is to be a modern-day pariah … in how girls’ feelings of frustration, anger, and sadness are expressed in physical and self-destructive ways: controlling their food intake, cutting their bodies, being sexually promiscuous … in the way that the female body has become a palimpsest on which many of our culture’s conflicting messages about femininity are written and rewritten … in the element of performance and exhibitionism that seems to define the contemporary experience of being a girl.27

As our culture moves in more pluralistic directions, concepts of female and male are beginning to be seen as only the endpoints on a continuum of

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© LAUREN GREENFIELD. Mijanou and Friends on Senior Beach Day, Will Rogers State Park, 1993. Variable dimensions. Chromogenic color print. COURTESY  Lauren Greenfield/INSTITUTE.

MULTICULTURALISM : EXPLORING IDENTITY AND HISTORY

gender possibilities. Samoan-born artist Shigeyuki Kihara (b. 1975) creates work by adopting the persona of a fa’afafine, a recognized third gender in Samoa where individuals are born as male but assume a female identity. In her exhibition  Fa’afafine: In the Manner of a Woman (2005), she examines the often-romanticized colonial gaze and stereotype as depicted in ethnographic studies and frames gender as a Western classification rather than a universal one.

For most of the twentieth century, America maintained the optimistic belief that it was a pluralistic culture, a “melting pot” that assimilated each arriving new group of immigrants into a singular larger society. In the last decades of the twentieth century, numerous cultural communities came to consider assimilation a bogus ethnocentric concept and have sought to replace it with multiculturalism. This concept has its roots in the pragmatism movement at the end of the nineteenth century which

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developed a premise of cultural pluralism, an idea viewed as essential in order to build a more egalitarian society. At its best, multiculturalism emphasizes group identity, mutual respect, and public awareness of the achievements of one’s own group. It decries the elevation of European cultural traditions over those of Asia, Africa, and the indigenous nonwhite populations of the Americas, and rejects the social and economic exploitations of colonialism and its tendency to view “other” cultures as primitive or exotic. It demands that the non-European notions of art, family, and concepts of time be considered on their own terms. The downside of this position is that it can support the belief that culture remains a prized entity, and can view the usage of any symbol or tradition by those outside of their culture as inappropriate and exploitative, a notion which limits critical thinking regarding any customs and traditions except one’s own. Critics also charge that multiculturalism undermines cultural assimilation that can lead to the fragmentation of society into ethnic factions (Balkanization). In the arts it can be used to promote work solely on the basis of social identity while failing to recognize and critique unequal power relations that underpin inequity.28 Artists became increasingly aware of how society-at-large constructs concepts of identity, and they reacted by making portraits of their groups that countered these often-stereotypical views. Imagemakers from specific cultures provided interpretations from an internal point of view in order to reveal how each group sees itself. They brought with them an understanding of their own social rituals that allowed them to deliver intimate, firsthand accounts of their group’s values. They offered a view from within, rather than a gaze from without. For example,  Dinh Q. Lê’s (b. 1968) woven color images from his series Portraying White God fabricates a new interconnected reality that is indicative of work by artists from various cultures struggling to establish their identity in relation to the predominant culture.

© DINH Q. LÊ. Between, 1994. 65 × 40 inches. Chromogenic color prints with tape. Lê says: “As a Vietnamese living in a western society, educated in western institutions and surrounded by western popular culture, I am a product of both East and West. Through my work, I explore the exchange and interweaving of cultures and identities from a bicultural perspective.”29 COURTESY  Shoshana Wayne Gallery, Santa Monica, CA., P.P.O.W. Gallery,

New York.

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Dawoud Bey’s (b. 1953) large-scale portrait series of teenagers, entitled  Class Pictures  (2007), combines image and text to expand the notion of the photographic portrait. Bey shows that the genre can be a surprising amalgamation of opposite characteristics capable of breaking down stereotypical representations of American youth across the ethnic and social spectrums. In a fashion similar to television documentaries like the  Up  series, produced by British TV company Granada (since 1964), PBS’s An American Family (1971), and WE’s High School Confidential  (2007), where the subjects are all aware of the camera, Bey’s work discloses intimate details about the characters while raising the questions: Can we trust what we see? What is sincere? What is a self-conscious construction for the camera? Stephen Marc’s (b. 1954)  Underground Railroad  project and book utilizes digital montage that combines the past and the present in order to make a historical movement involving African American identity more accessible. Fazal Sheikh (b. 1965) makes sustained portraits of displaced communities around the world, which address their traditions, as well as their political and economic problems. By establishing a context of respect and understanding, his photographs ask viewers to learn more about the people in them and about the circumstances and human rights issues that affect their lives. Multiculturalism has increased art world visibility of women of color, who have been able to combine ethnic and feminist concerns in their work. Tuscarora Native American Jolene Rickard (b. 1956) took up photography to empower one of the oldest continually surviving aboriginal communities with knowledge of its symbols and relationships. Rickard allows the photograph to function as a survival strategy, just as traditional storytelling or beadwork propagates and extends cultural meanings to the next generation. For Rickard, the photograph serves to merge the

material and spiritual worlds while also pointing out the lack of harmony in these worlds. Family stories have been the basis of the work of many people of color, especially women.30  Family therapist Alan D. Entin believes snapshots can reveal the power structures within family existence. Entin discusses how the “background [of a photograph] can be read as information about social-cultural values, traditions, and ideals. Photographs tell not only about what is photographed, but also about who is doing the photographing. Photographs are biographical as well as autobiographical.”31 Clarissa T. Sligh  (b. 1939) reexamines her past by looking at family snapshots to discover the differences between the pictures and her memories.  Joining together the African American storytelling tradition with a postmodern strategy of combining family snapshots with collage, cyanotype, Vandyke brownprint processes, and handwritten text, Sligh underscores how difficult it can be to obtain the information one needs. Sligh’s visual connections empower her to explore the factors that have constituted her African American identity, and they move her beyond the discriminatory characterizations of society. Sligh adopted an autobiographical image, Skookie, in her reworking of the universal reading primer, Dick and Jane, to confront class values and racial exclusions. Sligh tells us: “Reading Dick & Jane with Me (1989) is an artist’s book created to interrupt the authority of old elementary school textbooks called The Dick and Jane Readers. These textbooks of the 1940’s and 1950’s, used to teach reading, presented a white upper middle class suburban family as normal life for most Americans. Although the average American at that time was working class, the artist as a young girl thought these depictions meant that her family must be an aberration outside normal family life. Simple, repetitive sentences are constructed to simulate the rhythm of the old readers. Fragments of snapshots of the artist’s brothers and sisters and children from her

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© CLARISSA T. SLIGH. Reading Dick and Jane with Me, 1989. 40 x 30 inches. Cyanotype.

neighborhood stand in for elementary school students who now ‘talk back.’ ”32 The project also demonstrates the straightforward ability to transfer a photo-based image from one process to another, in this case photo offset. Holding advanced degrees in folklore and art,  Carrie Mae Weems  (b. 1953) examines the narrative systems, steeped in myth and religion, that structure a variety of African American

voices relative to the historic catastrophe of slavery. In  Then What? Photographs and Folklore  (1990), Weems generated a photo-narrative of staged events and text to perform a cultural analysis and meditation on the issues surrounding power. She showed the development and collapse of a romantic relationship around a kitchen table, in her Kitchen Table Series  (1990), and the emergence of a sense of self that transcends the individual and speaks

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© CARRIE MAE WEEMS. Untitled, from the Kitchen Table Series, 1990. 28¼ × 28¼ inches. Gelatin silver print. In The Kitchen Table Series (twenty gelatin silver prints and fourteen texts on silkscreen panels),Weems plays both the artist and audience to “respond to a number of issues: woman’s subjectivity, woman’s capacity to revel in her body, and the woman’s construction of herself, and her own image.”33 Megan O’Grady writes: “Weems stares out at us in a way that insists we not simply look at her but really see her— a charged exchange, but also a beautifully leveling one: Here we are, human to human, across the table from one another. She plays a character: friend, parent, breadwinner, lover, a woman who resists classification, a woman of the world, of political conscience. These are roles that transcend race, but behind her, on her wall, we see a photograph of Malcolm X, his fist upraised, reminding us of an inescapable precedent of imagery, of a larger conversation that black women had been missing from.”34 COURTESY  Jack Shainman Gallery, New York.

as a collective autobiography. Her methodology has a  persistent political resonance without being didactic. Weems’s work focuses on the shared theme of what society has deemed normal by addressing issues of race, gender, class inequities, and stereotypes from her perspective as an African American woman. In her Africa series (1993), Weems explores the mythic quest for origins by subversively retelling the Adam and Eve story in an African Garden of Eden. Her work demonstrates that beauty and the pursuit of change are not necessarily antithetical. She states: “I want to make things that are beautiful, seductive, formally challenging and culturally meaningful. I’m also committed to radical social change…. Any form of human injustice moves me deeply …

the battle against all forms of oppression keeps me going and keeps me focused.”35 Weems’s image and sound installation,  Ritual and Revolution  (1998), gave voice to numerous failed revolutions of the past 200 years, and aroused more than difficult thoughts when it was vandalized while on display in a museum.36 Weems has gone on to create installations videos that stress the worth of Black women and was awarded a MacArthur Fellowship in 2013. Currently, she is an artist in residence at Syracuse University. Lorna Simpson (b. 1960) is an African American artist whose postmodern partitioned constructions, combining image and text, provide evidence that relates to falsehoods about class, gender, and

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© KARA WALKER. Darkytown Rebellion, 2001. 15 × 33 feet. Cut paper and projection on wall. Installation view at The Walker Art Center, Minneapolis, MN/photo by Gene Pittman/Walker Art Center. Mining the juncture of ambiguity between history and fiction, Walker translates the past into visual form by building a world that unleashes horrors even as it seduces viewers, raising the question: are these merely images from the past or do these caricatures still resonate in the twenty-first century? Walker states: “I’m not making work about reality; I’m making work about images. I’m making work about fictions that have been handed down to me, and I’m interested in those fictions because I’m an artist, and any sort of attempt at getting at the truth of a thing, you kind of have to wade through these levels of fictions, and that’s where the work is coming from.”37 COURTESY  Sikkema Jenkins & Co., New York.

Awarded a MacArthur Fellowship (1997), Kara Walker  (b. 1969) employs the Victorian medium of cutout silhouettes, which echo the physionotrace and Talbot’s “art of fixing a shadow,” to investigate the terrifying, ignorant absurdity of racism and sexism. Her unruly silhouette characters, who fornicate and mete out violence, exaggerate stereotypical roles often based on pre-Civil War, Southern personas, and reflect the dangers of relying on racial profiles to determine one’s character and expected behaviors. In Darkytown Rebellion (2001), her theatrical use of colored light projection, recalling the

race. Her faceless portraits form generic emblems; they resist racist conjectures about Black physicality by defying the power of a photographer to capture and impose a context on an image. They become part of Simpson’s strategy of “not giving up everything, not giving up your face, completely who you are and everything to the camera.”38  By shifting the power of the gaze, Simpson disrupts the voyeuristic relationship of the observer and the observed, asserting the interconnected nature of her identity(ies) rather than having it/them imposed upon her.

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history of the phantasmagoria, “tricks” people into walking into and becoming part of her installation about our sinister side. Here each viewer’s silhouette joins the mythological composition and thus actively commingles with the historic cruelty of slavery and the fantasy of a romance novel like Margaret Mitchell’s  Gone with the Wind  (1936), simultaneously seducing and implicating each participant. Such an equivocal design provides audiences with the possibility of reassessing history, and their role in race and gender relations. Large-scale public art empowers contemporary artists to tell their stories to a wider audience. Artist and industrial designer  Krzysztof Wodiczko  (b.

1943) believes art and design should engender postmodern debates. As an exile from Poland living in the U.S.A, Wodiczko identifies with the voiceless Other in a strange land boxed in by preconceived categories. Wodiczko dramatizes political and social dilemmas, including colonialism, consumerism, homelessness, and slavery, through slide projections on the facades of public buildings. Using on-site trucks armed with projectors and generators, Wodiczko’s guerrilla-like critiques take control of public places away from the dominating class and its ideology. His actions convert public spaces into theaters that confront problems many people wish to ignore.39  In a variation of this process, Shimon Attie (b. 1957) projects archived photographs, picturing subjects of Jewish life in Berlin before the Holocaust, onto the walls of contemporary buildings in the same city. The resulting composites merge the past and the present to make vanished histories reappear. W. G. (Winfred Georg Maximilian) Sebald (1944–2001) was a German writer living in England who drew upon collective and personal memories to reconcile himself with the traumatic history of World War II and the Holocaust, once writing about the pain of belonging to a nation that, in the words of the German Nobel Prize laureate in Literature Thomas Mann, “cannot show its face.” His works, such as The Emigrants (1992) and The Rings of Saturn (1995), approach these subjects obliquely, inventing a hybrid novel format that is part memoir and part travelogue. These works are notable for their unpredictable mixture of fact (or seeming fact), recollection, and imaginary tale, interspersed with suggestive yet perplexing black-and-white photographs, obscuring the borders of veracity and fiction. Sebald, a devoted photographer, favored “found” objects, postcards, and old newspapers, which appear without captions and acquire meaning from the surrounding text. These enigmatic images neither illustrate nor document the written story, rather they create evocative counterpoints to the

© KRZYSZTOF WODICZKO. In The Border Projection (part one), San Diego Museum of Man, 1988. Installation view. COURTESY  Galerie Lelong, New York.

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© SEYDOU KEÏTA, Three Women with Car, circa 1956. 5 × 7 inches. Gelatin silver print. According to critic Teju Cole, “Keïta did well enough from his photo studio that, in the early 1950s, he was able to buy a Peugeot 203. Here is that car, used as a background prop for a group portrait made around 1956, featuring two women and a girl. The women’s dark foreheads and cheekbones are echoed in the Peugeot’s sinuous lines. And way off to the right, touching the hood of the car, is a man’s hand. He has been sidelined, just as the man in ‘Je veux être seule’ was [I want to be alone]. But a closer look reveals another man in the picture. He can be seen in the front wheel well of the car, in the glimmer of its reflective shine. This second man, dressed in white, is stooped over something [a camera]. He is the photographer, Seydou Keïta himself, in his limited role, collaborating with the true authors of the image: the women.”40

narrative that suggest a paradoxical and/or sardonic point of view that forges connections between what was loved and lost and what could have been but will never be. Seydou Keïta  (1921–2001) was a self-taught, Malian commercial photographer whose lively portraits of West African people rebuke the anthropological images of “natives” imposed by Europeans during the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Keïta’s images, often with women taking center stage, deflect the public’s deleterious expectations of illness, poverty, and

war in Africa. Essentially, he sparked people into making their own pictures that enhanced their appearance and social identity. He did this by intimately encouraging his subjects to set aside their inhibitions and avail themselves of his collection of traditional and European clothing, accessories, and props. This allowed his subjects to choose their own idealized, yet dignified, appearance that melded together their day-to-day and imaginative lives while revealing a culture on the cusp of transition. To keep his prices affordable, Keïta claimed to make only one 5 × 7-inch negative of each client.

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China’s swiftly rising economy has generated a corresponding creative re-awakening of Chinese art, as seen in the work of Ai Weiwei (b. 1957), Cai Guoqiang (b. 1957), Hai Bo (b. 1962), Cao Fei (b. 1978), Xiao Lu (b. 1962), Rong Rong (b. 1968), Wang Qingsong (b. 1966), and  Liu Zheng  (b. 1969).41  Liu typifies the dramatic shift in Chinese photography. Rejecting his early experiences constructing photographic “untruths” for communist propaganda purposes, Liu changed direction in the mid-1990s. He began investigating and documenting the diverse temperaments—covering the territory between piety and pleasure—that collectively construct what he sees as the archetypal

Chinese outlook and spirit. Working in the manner of August Sander, Weegee, and Arbus, his series  The Chinese  (1994–2002), which he originally self-published, forebodingly depicts laborers, monks, performers, and homeless children in unexpected circumstances to raise awareness about how China’s breakneck modernization has  transformed its national character, frequently with a high social and environmental cost. Photography’s adaptability and instantaneous nature make it synonymous with the swiftly changing economic and social environment in Asia. Photo-based work, including installations and videos, from China and other Asian countries, such as South Korea and Japan, is now being given wider attention in Western venues.43 This globalization of the arts offers Western audiences the opportunity to see how artists around the world perceive themselves and their communities on a personal, regional, national, and global scale. What the long-term effects will be on Western practices remains to be seen, especially since Chinese artists operate within boundaries tightly controlled by communist government authorities. Mao’s legacy is full of twists and turns, and the Cultural Revolution remains a taboo topic, along with the three Ts: Tibet, Tiananmen Square,44 and Taiwan. Since the dismantling of Mao Zedong’s Cultural Revolution in the late 1970s, and in between various Chinese communist government crackdowns, photographers have been utilizing the photobook for self-expression and to examine social issues as long as they steer clear of human rights concerns.45 Living under cultural conditions where the forces of censorship, corruption, and tradition still retain enormous power, along with a distain for many international and regional legal norms, is not the model most artists favor. However, these authoritarian conditions can challenge artists who have the strength and courage to devise original and creative modes of voicing their concerns, resulting in new pathways of expression.

© LIU ZHENG. Revolutionary Opera Performers, Beijing, 1998. Gelatin silver print. Here Liu explores the influence of traditional Chinese history on his contemporary culture as well as the level of performance involved in the processes of depicting and constructing Chinese identity. Liu’s assertion, “my compatriots are not only the subject of my work, but also the rightful owners and audiences for my work,”42 makes clear his intention for his study The Chinese to function as a tool for collective identity reconstruction that challenges clichés about Chinese culture and its people. COURTESY  Yossi Milo Gallery, New York.

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LANDSCAPE AS A CULTURAL SPACE The iconic photograph of earthrise taken during the Apollo 8 mission in 1968 has become a highly influential image that has even been hailed as the beginning of the environmental movement. It was the first time that we saw our planet, a tiny, upside down blue and white bowl floating in the black vastness of space, in its wholeness and fragility, making it a compelling visualization that we are part of nature. Beginning in the 1970s, a growing environmental movement defined new concerns for photographers to explore in their work. The landscape, especially that of the American West, had a history of romantic and mythological images, but increasing awareness of socioeconomic forces, especially growing population, pollution, and environmental degradation as a universal problem, brought power issues of land use to the forefront. Land ownership has always been a nexus of power and the birth of the Earth Art/ Work movement in the late 1960s would challenge the power of museums and galleries as privileged venues for art. Today, the landscape is not seen just as an object to be depicted, but rather as a mirror of our human condition and our relationship with the world. During the nineteenth century, commercial photographers created the vast majority of landscape photographs, and the marketplace dictated their content and style. In the last part of the twentieth century, the lens of environmental organizations, whose mission was to preserve the wilderness, informed people’s perceptions of nature. These groups often visually established the boundaries of “nature” through romantic color reproductions of pristine wilderness, which gave some viewers the misleading idea that anything that is not wild is not natural. The current generation of progressive landscape photographers has moved away from this point of view. Their position is that the landscape is a more complex artificial perception: a human

© WILLIAM ANDERS. View of Earth Rising Over the Lunar Horizon, December 24, 1968. Dimensions variable. Earthrise is a photograph of Earth and some of the Moon’s surface that was made with a Hasselblad 70mm film camera while in lunar orbit by astronaut William Anders during the Apollo 8 mission. Command Module Pilot Jim Lovells said, “The vast loneliness is awe-inspiring and it makes you realize just what you have back there on Earth.”46 Although the photograph is usually reproduced with the moon below the earth, this is how Anders actually saw it. Nature photographer Galen Rowell described it as “the most influential environmental photograph ever taken.”47 On the 50th anniversary of the Apollo 8 mission in 2018, Anders stated: “It really undercut my religious beliefs. The idea that things rotate around the pope and up there is a big supercomputer wondering whether Billy was a good boy yesterday? It doesn’t make any sense. I became a big buddy of [atheist scientist] Richard Dawkins.”48 COURTESY

NASA

construct that blends the artifice of civilization with natural forms.49  Working from the premise that anything within our environment that can be photographed can be a landscape, these photographers have personalized the ingredients of their landscapes to reflect a broader range of societal issues. This has allowed them to bring forward environmental issues, such as climate change and pollution, which have been produced through the collision of industrialized

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culture and nature. Their work announces that there is “trouble in paradise,” and that we can no longer afford an attitude that segregates nature into a discrete category of wilderness. By adopting a strategy of publishing the results of their inquiries, these photographers reach a broader audience than would see such work in a gallery setting. Robert Smithson’s (1938–1973) constructed Earth Work projects, like  Spiral Jetty  (1970), a 1,500-foot-long spiral of earth and rock that jutted out into Great Salt Lake, and Christo’s (Christo Vladimirov Javacheff, 1935‒2020) fixed duration, large-scale installation projects, such as wrapping a building, or his  Running Fence  (1976), a 24½mile fence of fabric, rely on photography to reach larger audiences. Initially, many conceptual artists resisted documentation, claiming that photographs would convert their art into marketable objects, and

thereby violate their basic concept that such work was supposed to be experienced in person. But soon, Smithson was exhibiting his photographs and Christo and his partner Jeanne-Claude (Denat de Guillebon) (1935–2009) were selling theirs to help fund new projects such as  The Gates  (2005) in New York City’s Central Park and his final self-financed project L’Arc de Triomphe, Wrapped (2021). Artists like Smithson, who created transitory situations that he extracted from nature or left for nature to decompose, fixed his work with photography, stating: “Photography makes nature obsolete.”50  Such strategies helped to dissolve the boundaries that divided photography from other media and took work outside the boundaries of the traditional exhibition sites. Anselm Kiefer’s (b. 1945) thickly painted canvases deal with the seductive and violent German

© ANSELM KIEFER. Your Age and Mine and the Age of the World, 1997. 129 7⁄8 × 220½ inches. Emulsion, acrylic, shellac, clay, and sand on canvas. Kiefer became interested in the Nazi era when it was a taboo subject in Germany, stating: “History speaks to artists. It changes the artist’s thinking and is constantly reshaping it into different and unexpected images.”51 His epic works are built upon a historic memory palace that calls up Germany’s post-World War II identity and history to grapple with the Third Reich’s mythology. COURTESY  Gagosian Gallery, New York.

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mythos of “blood and soil,” and they often contain a mural-sized photograph beneath the paint. With such works, Kiefer confronted the historical reality of German militarist authoritarianism.52  Kiefer’s enormous paintings, based on photographs of architectural subject matter, meditate on the linkage of history, time, and memory. What appears to be a landscape painting of a pyramid is actually a creation based on a photograph Kiefer made in India of  a building where bricks are produced by hand. Kiefer utilizes photography to transform an obscured image of the world based on the debris of history, an image that emphasizes the ambiguity and paradoxes of reality and the intrinsic suffering that is an inescapable component of human affairs. Considering

Kiefer’s absorption with Nazi-era Germany, his selection of brick factories and their ovens echoes the crematoria of the Nazi death camps where millions perished. In his book, Waste Land: Meditations on a Ravaged Landscape (1997), David T. Hanson (b. 1948) presents beautiful yet disturbing color images (many of them aerial views) of an American topography wounded by the assault of industrial and military economic forces. Hanson’s images also remind us that the notion of landscape is never fixed, but is a creation of human perception and boundaries that is constantly shifting. Richard Misrach  (b. 1949) brought together twenty years of categorizing and probing society’s

© RICHARD MISRACH. Desert Fire #001 (Burning Palms), 1983. 20 × 24 inches. Chromogenic color print. Richard Misrach expresses: “To me, the work I do is a means of interpreting unsettling truths, of bearing witness, and of sounding an alarm. The beauty of formal representation both carries an affirmation of life and subversively brings us face to face with news from our besieged world.”53 COURTESY  Fraenkel Gallery, San Francisco, CA, Marc Selwyn Fine Art, Los Angeles, CA, and Pace/MacGill Gallery, New York.

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© ROBERT DAWSON. Flooded Salt Air Pavilion, Great Salt Lake, Utah, from Water in the West Project, 1985. 16 × 20 inches. Gelatin silver print. For Robert Dawson water is a metaphor and symbol for the legacy of human actions that have shaped the landscape of the West. Dawson’s Water in the West Project looks at American cultural attitudes regarding water’s interaction with agriculture, the environment, mining, Native Americans, recreation, and resource development, at times with irony. Overall, the work scrutinizes our society’s aspiration to possess, control, and shape the land and water to meet our demands.

relationship to the desert in his  Crimes and Splendors: The Desert Cantos of Richard Misrach (1996). His use of an 8 x10-inch view camera allows him to create formal, lush, color prints of the mythical Western terrain that visually delight viewers. However, Misrach fashions a jarring duality by juxtaposing these photographs with others that show the presence of human occupation within the desert and the accompanying fires, gas-powered vehicles,

man-made floods, dead animal pits, and remnants of violent and radioactive military activity. In Farewell, Promised Land: Waking from the California Dream  (1999), photographer Robert Dawson (b. 1950) and writer Gray Brechin present their five-year study of the historic and social forces that have altered this legendary region. Although they portray an often tragic view of how the land has been cynically developed, they also look to the

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© EDWARD BURT YNSKY. Nickel Tailings, #30, Sudbury Ontario, 1996. 40 × 60 inches. Chromogenic color print. “For 25 years I have created images about the various man-made transformations our civilization has imposed upon nature. And in the course of the evolution of my work, I became anxiously aware of the consequences our actions are having upon the world. As a husband and father, as an entrepreneur and provider, with a deep gratitude for his birthright in a peace loving and bountiful nation, I feel an urgency to make people aware of important things at stake. What we give to the future are the choices we make today.”54 COURTESY  Nicholas Metivier Gallery, Toronto, Ontario, Howard Greenberg Gallery, New York, Bryce Wolkowitz Gallery, New York.

future by representing those committed to safeguarding the state from its course of exploitation. Exploring the connections between nature and industry,  Edward Burtynsky  (b. 1955) depicts places where human activity has reshaped the surface of the land. His startling large-scale color photographs, as seen in  Manufacturer Landscapes: The Photographs of Edward Burtynsky  (2003), of mining, oil refining, quarrying, rail cutting, recycling, and shipbreaking uncover both the bleak and sublime beauty in the remains of industrial progress.

The implied environmental and social turmoil that lies beneath these images reveals the downside of the Western ideals of material fulfillment and happiness. Taking a different path, other artists interpret the landscape as a subjective space to explore their internal experiences. Brian Taylor (b. 1954) innovatively explores lyrical moments in the modern landscape through historic nineteenth-century printing techniques, mixed media, and handmade books that incorporate analog and digital methods. In his

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© BRIAN TAYLOR.  Stickeen Beckons Me to a New Adventure!, 2022. 14 x 18 inches. Gouache, colored pencil, mixed media and pigment prints on Fabriano watercolor paper. Brian Taylor explains: “I adore distressed, historic sketchbooks and now make my own, continuing my long-term interest in creating photographically illustrated handmade books. My ‘sketches’ spring from a desire to incorporate my daily experience into my art, and more art into my daily life. I enjoy revealing signs of my hand in artwork, such as fingerprints, brush marks, drawn lines, and imperfections, akin to those found in historic journals.” Here Taylor references Scottish-American naturalist, author, and environmental philosopher John Muir’s journals in which his adventures with his beloved dog are described in his short story Stickeen (1897).

dreamlike landscapes series, Places of Magic, Taylor photographed the ruins of the hand-constructed Anasazi dwellings of Chaco Canyon in New Mexico, the pyramids of Egypt, and Stonehenge in England. Then he interprets these once prevailing civilizations by printing with the hand-applied gum bichromate process, reminding us how cultures rise and fall. With the landscape acting as a

major character, Taylor’s  Open Books  series values the handmade book format for the freedom it gives him to juxtapose one image against another and to incorporate snippets of text that play off the pictures and provide additional denotation to the imperceptible undercurrents of our lives. The images and text become larger than the sum of their parts, permitting him to dynamically generate a broader

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© ROBERT and SHANA PARKE-HARRISON. Earth Elegies, from the series Promiseland. 2000. Gelatin silver print with mixed media. Shana and Robert Parke-Harrison state: “Our photographs offer visual poems of loss, human struggle, and personal exploration within landscapes scarred by technology and over-use. As collaborative artists, we strive to metaphorically and poetically link laborious actions, idiosyncratic rituals and strangely crude machines into tales about our contemporary experiences. We construct elaborate sets made from found objects. Our scenes combine real and constructed landscapes. These scenes have a sense of determination and irony while addressing mankind’s responsibility to heal the damage inflicted on the environment.”55

commentary that takes viewers to places that one of the components alone could not accomplish. The collaboration of  Robert and Shana Parke-Harrison (b. 1968 and 1964) combines photography, painting, sculpture, and theater to address the human relationship to the land. In the series published as a book, The Architect’s Brother (2000), a character in a black suit (played by Robert) attempts

to heal and connect with nature through the use of inventive, cobbled-together machines that have been constructed from flotsam and jetsam. Despite the sense of futility and irony in their mythologically staged images, Robert Parke-Harrison says, “I attempt to represent the archetype of the modern man and draw the viewer into the scene without dictating a message or the outcome of the myth presented.” 56

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© MAT THEW BRANDT. Crackling Lake WY 3, 2012. 72 × 105 inches. Chromogenic color print soaked in Crackling Lake water.

Matthew Brandt  (b. 1982) is known for incorporating his subject’s material form into its photographic representation. In experimenting with materials and making use of his subject’s physical attributes, Brandt transmutes his subject into something else by placing the material  Thingness  of subject front and center. In  Lakes and Reservoirs (2011), Brandt photographed a series of water sources in the western United States before submerging the resulting chromogenic color prints in water collected from those bodies of water themselves. He soaks the prints for anywhere from a few days up to a few months, impacting the color emulsion layers that comprise the image. Brandt removes the prints when he thinks they have attained their

decisive expression of the scene, a manifestation that ponders the present state not only of our sources of water, but also of analog color photography. Tangled within this destruction of the original is the energy of becoming something anew. By systematically violating orthodox procedures, what endures in Brandt’s work is an abstract vocabulary of color, form, and texture that offers a new topography of our world. In place of the standard color control bar we are presented with a psychedelic color palette of hallucinatory reds and acid-yellows along with jigsaw-puzzle stains, painterly streaks, and mind-altering swirls that simulate an LSD experience. Brandt’s pictures reconfigure what exists for the purpose of letting viewers see what

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notes

one cannot see in a conventional photograph. His fabricated realities or surrealities defy and alter our sense of what defines normal visual representations by bringing the maker’s personal aura back into the photographic process. Brandt sums it up this way: “By literally putting the physical thing in the image I think there’s more collaboration with the thing.”57 What these artists share is an outlook that calls for action by challenging viewers to think about the human impact on the natural world, to learn more about their relationship to their environment, and to consider changes that could offer hope for the coming generations. Their basic point is that we all create the landscape we live in, and it is therefore our responsibility to craft and ensure its future. Photographer Robert Dawson sums up this attitude with his statement that:

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It quickly became clear to us that depicting only devastation would invite cynicism and detachment. I felt it was essential to go beyond showing our failures by calling attention to individual and collective efforts to restore and sustain our home. People involved in preserving California are engaged in a struggle that agriculturist Wes Jackson once described as “becoming native” to a place. Jackson argues that our culture has settled on the American landscape but that we have yet to become native to that place we call home. That process of becoming native motivates many of the people and organizations in our book. In undertaking this project, we too were searching for a way to come home.58

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Andres Serrano in Richard Goldstein, “The Taboo Artist,”  The Village Voice, vol. XLII, no. 10 (March 11, 1997), 51. The work of Andres Serrano and Robert Mapplethorpe led Congress in 1989 to approve restrictions on federal aid for “obscene” art or art lacking “serious literary, artistic, political or scientific value,” restrictions that were first struck down and then reinstated by the courts. Conservative members of Congress have attempted numerous times to eliminate the National Endowment for the Arts (NEA) and end federal funding of the arts entirely. In 1994, in an attempt to rescue the NEA from funding cuts, the National Council on the Arts voted to reject Serrano and two other artists, Merry Alpern and Barbara DeGenevieve, who had been recommended by the Photography Fellowship Peer Panel of the Visual Artists Program of the NEA to receive fellowships. Funding was cut anyway. Ever since  then, individual visual arts fellowships have been curtailed by the NEA. Serrano, unpublished statement, 1989 in Lucy R. Lippard,“Andres Serrano: The Spirit and The Letter,” Art in America (April 1990), 239. Ibid. Serrano, unpublished statement, 1989, ibid., 240. See Richard Bolton, ed., Culture Wars: Documents from the Recent Controversies in the Arts  (New York: New Press, 1992). For an accessible account of the controversy surrounding Mapplethorpe’s work see Terry Barrett,  Criticizing Photographs: An Introduction to Understanding Images  (Mountain View, CA: Mayfield Publishing, 1990), 110–18. Michael Gill, Image of the Body: Aspects of the Nude (New York: Doubleday, 1989), 17. According to Dave Hickey, the power of Mapplethorpe’s work rests with its beauty. See Hickey’s “The Invisible Dragon: On Beauty I” (1991), in Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 390–93. Ibid., 20. For an overview of Mapplethorpe’s career see Holland Cotter,“Why Mapplethorpe Still Matters,” The New York Times, March 31, 2016, www.nytimes.com/2016/04/01/ arts/design/why-map-plethorpe-still-matters.html?emc=edit_tnt_20160401&nlid=15316572&tntemail0=y John Coplans in Chris Townsend, Vile Bodies: Photography and the Crisis of Looking  (Munich and New York: Prest-el-Verlag, 1998), 99.

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13 According to the Whitney Museum of American Art,

22 See: Michael H. Keller and Gabriel X. J. Dance, “The

Goldin began showing this work as early as 1978 in downtown New York clubs and bars, and she continued to add to and adjust the selection of images and music until 1992. http://collection.whitney.org/ object/8274 Nan Goldin, quoted in www.britannica.com/biography/ Nan-Goldin Wojnarowicz’s renown as an artist comes equally from his powerful visual works in numerous media (photography, painting, and sculpture),  and  from his work as a writer. One of his influential meditations on photography, “Do Not Doubt the Dangerousness of the 12-Inch-Tall Politician” (1991), has been reprinted in Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 356–58. By the time the World Health Organization (WHO) declared Dec. 1 World AIDS Day in 1988, the disease was a global pandemic. According to WHO the disease has killed an estimated 40 million people, including nearly 800,000 in the U.S. Today, there are about 37 million people living with HIV and AIDS worldwide. If current trends continue, half of all Black, gay, and bisexual men will be living with HIV during their lifetimes. Photography has played an important role in humanizing this crisis, which has helped facilitate the development of lifesaving HIV/AIDS treatments and public education. See: Ben Cosgrove, “The Photo That Changed the Face of AIDS,” LIFE newsletter, accessed November 29, 2022, www.life.com/history/behind-thepicture-the-photo-that-changed-the-face-of-aids/ See Doreen Carvajal, “Pornography Meets Paranoia,” The New York Times, Sunday, February 19, 1995, 4-E. However, in 2021 Sturges pled guilty to sexual misconduct for actions he took when he was 28 years old with a child under the age of 16 and was sentenced to three years of probation. Richard B. Woodward, “The Disturbing Photography of Sally Mann,” The New York Times Magazine, September 27, 1992, 36. Sally Mann,  Hold Still: A Memoir With Photographs (New York: Little, Brown and Company, 2015), 153 and 159. Ibid., 161. For more on this topic see: Sally Mann, “Sally Mann’s Exposure,” The New York Times Sunday Magazine, April 16, 2015,www.nytimes.com/2015/04/19/magazine/the -cost-of-sally-manns-exposure.html?ref=magazine &_r=0

Internet Is Overrun With Images of Child Sexual Abuse. What Went Wrong?,” The New York Times, September 29, 2019, www.nytimes.com/interactive/2019/09/28/ us/child-sex-abuse.html Douglas Crimp, Pictures, catalog essay (New York: Committee for the Visual Arts, Inc., 1977), 3. This show took place in New York at Artists Space in the fall of 1977 and included the work of Jack Goldstein, Sherrie Levine, and Robert Longo. Sherman in Jeanne Siegel, ed.,  Art Talk:The Early 80s, 283. Sherman in Jeanne Siegel, ed.,  Art Talk:The Early 80s, 275. The Guerrilla Girls, dressed in gorilla masks, fishnet stockings, and black leather jackets, were formed on the streets of New York in front of the Museum of Modern Art during the exhibition  An International Survey of Recent Painting and Sculpture  (Spring 1985) to protest that of the 166 artists shown only 15 were women. To protect their identities, individual Guerrilla Girls use the names of dead women artists as pseudonyms. The group publishes a quarterly tabloid,  Hot Flashes. See www.guerrillagirls.com. Lauren Greenfield, Girl Culture Artist Statement, 2002, www.laurengreenfield.com/index.php?p54B32KF87. More at: Sara Raza, et al. “What’s Wrong with Multiculturalism?,” The Solomon R. Guggenheim Foundation, September 23, 2016, www.guggenheim. org/wp-content/uploads/2016/11/guggenheim-decoupling-as-discourse-on-the-global-south-whats-wrongwith-multiculturism-MAP-symposium.pdf Dinh Q. Lê in Robert Hirsch, “Ritual: Social Identity/A View From Within,”  CEPA Journal  (Spring/Summer 1994), 4. For more on this theme see: Deborah Willis, Imagining Families: Images and Voices (Washington, D.C.: National African American Museum, Smithsonian Institution, 1994). See also Willis, “Visualizing Memory: Photographs and the Art of Biography” (2003), in Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 412–14. Alan D. Entin, “Family Icons: Photographs in Family Psychotherapy” in L. Abt and I. Stuart, eds., The Newer Therapies: A Sourcebook  (New York: Van Nostrand, 1982), 209. https://clarissasligh.com/themes/identity/readingdick-jane/ Weems, quoted in Carrie Mae Weems: The Kitchen Table

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Series (Houston, TX: Contemporary Arts Museum Houston, 1996), 6 Megan O’Grady, How Carrie Mae Weems Rewrote the Rules of Image-Making, Oct. 15, 2018, www.nytimes. com/2018/10/15/t-magazine/carrie-mae-weems-interview.html Wall statement by the artist from  Carrie Mae Weems: Recent Work, 1992–1998 at the Everson Museum, Syracuse, NY (September 26, 1998–February 14, 1999) that brought together five of Weems’s installations works. This incident occurred at the Everson Museum of Art, Syracuse, NY, which organized the exhibition. See Erin Duggan, “Thoughtful Art, Thoughtless Act,”  The Post-Standard  (Syracuse, NY), Tuesday, November 3, 1998, B1. Farai Chideya, “Kara Walker Rattles Art World Again,” NPR radio interview, March 7, 2008, www.npr.org/ transcripts/87985217?storyId=87985217 Lorna Simpson, interview with Fatimah Tobing Rony, January 11, 1992, as quoted in “We Must First See Ourselves,”  Personal Narratives: Women Photographers of Color (Winston-Salem, NC: Southeastern Center for Contemporary Art, 1993), 12. This was an exhibition catalog, October 23, 1993–January 2, 1994, featuring the work of Lorraine O’Grady, Coreen Simpson, Lorna Simpson, Clarissa T. Sligh, Carrie Mae Weems, Pat Ward Williams, and Deborah Willis. For more on public art, see Linda Frye Burnham and Steven Durland, eds., The Citizen Artist: 20 Years of Art in the Public Arena, An Anthology from High Performance Magazine, 1978–1998  (Gardiner, NY: Critical Press, 1998). Teju Cole, “Portrait of a Lady,”  New York Times, Sunday Magazine, June 24, 2015, 20, www.nytimes. com/2015/06/28/magazine/portrait-of-a-lady.html?_ r=0. Cole’s claim that the women authored the photograph, not the photographer, revives the still-controversial ideas of one of photography’s inventors, William Henry Fox Talbot. In Hershberger, ed.,  Photographic Theory, see: Talbot, “Some Account of the Art of Photogenic Drawing” (1839), 38–43; and Peter Geimer, “Image as Trace: Speculations about an Undead Paradigm” (2007), 430–35. See James Kynge, Karen Smith, and Liu Heung Shing, eds,  China, Portrait of a Country  (Los Angeles, CA: Taschen America, 2008). Liu Zheng,  Liu Zheng: The Chinese  (New York: International Center of Photography; Göttingen, Germany: Steidl, 2004), 140.

43 See Barbara Pollack, “The Chinese Art Explo-

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sion,”  Artnews, vol. 107, no. 8 (September 2008), 118–27. See Andrew Jacobs, “Tiananmen Square ‘Negatives’: An Art Book or a Protest?” The New York Times, Feb 23, 2015, www.nytimes.com/2015/02/24/books/tiananmensquare-negatives-an-art-book-or-a-protest.html. For more on this topic, see Martin Parr, Wassink, and Ruben Lundgren,  The Chinese Photobook: From the 1900s to the Present (New York: Aperture, 2015). Apollo 8 astronaut William Anders, www.nasa.gov/ multimedia/imagegallery/image_feature_1249.html Galen Rowell, “That Photograph,” www.abc.net.au/ science/moon/earthrise.htm William Anders in Ian Sample, “Earthrise: how the iconic image changed the world,” The Guardian. Dec. 24, 2018, www.theguardian.com/science/2018/dec/24/ earthrise-how-the-iconic-image-changed-the-world For an early discussion of this approach, see Deborah Bright, “Of Mother Nature and Marlboro Men: An Inquiry into the Cultural Meanings of Landscape Photography” (1985), in Hershberger, ed.,  Photographic Theory, 302–9. Guglielmo Bargellesi-Severi, ed.,  Robert Smithson Slideworks (Verona, Italy: Carlo Frua, 1997), 13. www.brainyquote.com/quotes/anselm_kiefer_505224 See Simon Schama,  Landscape and Memory  (New York Vintage Books, 1996), 122–34. Also see Rafael López-Pedraza,  Anselm Kiefer: The Psychology of “After the Catastrophe” (New York: George Braziller, 1996). www.johnpaulcaponigro.com/blog/15465/13-quotesby-photographer-richard-misrach/ Edward Burtynsky, Burtynsky—China (Göttingen, Ger­ many: Steidel Publishers, 2006), 7. Shana & Robert Parke-Harrison statement, www.parkeharrison.com/statement Robert Parke-Harrison, written correspondence with author, April 3, 2000. Matthew Brandt in Robert Hirsch,  Transformational Imagemaking: Handmade Photography Since 1960 (New York and London: Focal Press, 2014), 222. Robert Dawson, Preface, Robert Dawson and Gray Brechin, Farewell, Promised Land: Waking from the California Dream (Berkeley and Los Angeles, CA: University of California Press, 1999), xvi.

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CHAPTER TWENTY

Photography Becomes Digital Imaging

PHOTO GRAPHY AS PIXELS: FROM SILVER HALIDE TO SILICON

results are an expressive fusion of pixels directed over time and space by the photographer or/and by the camera itself. Perhaps more than any other art form, photography has undergone a continual technical evolution. As in most groundbreaking situations, change begins slowly and then, especially with technology, accelerates exponentially following Moore’s Law.1 In the 1980s, digital imagemaking tools were expensive and uncommon, requiring access to powerful institutional computers and proprietary software to explore this new imagemaking frontier. At the start of the 1990s, digital imaging was still in its infancy and was as much a novelty as a useful tool set, with only the affluent and adventurous being able to work digitally. Had things stopped there, digital photography would exist as simply another alternative process. But in a one-decade period, beginning in the late 1990s, every photographic tool and technology, with the exception of the lens, was overthrown by the digital revolution.2 Some, such as art critic Peter Plagens, felt that digital photography was such a “megaquantum leap”3  that it warranted a completely new name. Entire industries and companies rose and fell as the essential structure of photography underwent a radical transformation. Eastman Kodak became the poster child of a large corporation unable to make the transition to digital, eventually leading to its bankruptcy.4 These

The revolution brought about by the adoption of digital technologies in many countries has transformed society, and its effect on photography was unprecedented. Prior to this time, photography seemed solid, reliable. If you bought a Nikon or Hasselblad camera, you thought you would use it for the rest of your life. Everyone took pictures— but only artists or those trained in the mechanics of photography made images that were seen by hundreds or thousands of people. But there was a storm brewing deep in the heart of computer code that would radically alter photography forever. We have become used to a world where rapid change is the norm, with massive amounts of information and images instantly accessible. Those who have grown up since the late 1990s when the internet became a household word may not fully grasp the degree of transformation that has taken place and how for many, the advent of digital imaging felt like an attack on all that photographers held as sacred: the physical connection between the subject being photographed and the resulting imagery. Plus, the camera itself moved from being a picturemaking machine to a data-collection tool whose

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events occurred so rapidly that there was seldom time to absorb their meaning. It is only now, with distance, that we are able to grasp some of the ramifications of these changes. Photography’s fundamental concept had been about formulating physical changes to tangible materials in response to light. Like a bullet hole in a wall, a photograph is evidence of a concrete occurrence.5 Digital images, formed of pixels encoded as strings of binary numbers, breaks this customary prescription by removing the materiality from the process.6 Images were now stored in hard drives and

© NANCY BURSON. Mankind, 1983–1985. 7¾ × 7½ inches. Gelatin silver print. Composites have also been made for differing purposes than Burson’s. In 1877, Francis Galton, the founder of eugenics, began combining photographs to define, categorize, and illustrate different types of people. Galton wanted those who he considered to be “fit” to propagate while the “unfit” would not, which required defining who was who. By overlaying criminal mug shots, Galton constructed a criminal type visualization. Galton also made composite portraits of intellectual types as well as composites he called “The Jewish Type,” transmitting the fallacy that Jews are a separate race.

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online servers instead of albums. Since Talbot made public his negative/positive process, photographs have been about reproducing outer reality with Renaissance-like perspectival depictions. Digital technology dispenses with this cherished notion by taking reproduction into the realm of disembodied or dematerialized ideas. For instance, with a physical object like a photographic negative, only one person at a time can work with it. With information, be it an idea, a secret, or a digital image file, once it is shared it becomes the equal property of many and subject to their multiple treatments and interpretations. In digital imaging the concept of an original loses its meaning because the master image can be exactly and endlessly duplicated without the physical degradation that accompanies reproducing physical materials. As we have read, photographs have been altered since their inception, but not with the seamlessness and ease that digital imaging programs like the now ubiquitous Adobe Photoshop and similar programs make possible. Nancy Burson (b. 1948) was one of the first to utilize computer power to alter and challenge cultural concepts of race. In  Mankind  (1983–1985) she  applied digital morphing technology to create images of people who had never existed, such as a composite person made up of African, Asian, and Caucasian features weighted according to current population statistics. Such pictures have no original physical being and exist only as digital data, showing us how images can be more about intangible ideas than external subjects. These images emblematize a media-based society where the image (the perception of reality) is more important than reality itself. Burson has also used these tools to age-enhance human faces, allowing law enforcement officials to locate missing children and adults. Her Human Race Machine encourages people to view themselves as a different race, allowing us to see that race is not a genetically but a socially based concept. Like a scientist, Burson makes explicit the gap between statistical data and the world as we experience it.

chapter twenty : photography becomes digital imaging

Her 2021 The Billboard Creative, Hollywood, CA promotes the concept of global unity by boldly declaring in white letters on a black background: “DNA has no color.”

their circulation via the halftone reproduction process, have been radically affected by the digital age (see Chapter 14). As old journalism models fail, news organizations have drastically cut staff photographers, relying instead on untrained “citizen journalists” and social media to cover stories to save money, best the competition, and for advertising and propaganda purposes. Unfortunately, this has led to numerous incidents of inaccurate and fraudulent use of images, as in the BBC coverage of the Israeli/ Gaza war of 2014.8 The mainline media’s reliance on unsubstantiated sources, who have specific agendas designed to manipulate public opinion with false and/or misleading statements, produces “news distortion” a.k.a. fake news that can gain widespread circulation.9 As the venerable adage proclaims: “The camera does not lie, but photographers do.” Digital cameras record far more information than just the frame numbers and the sequence of exposures as in film cameras. Metadata, additional information embedded in a digital image file, stores the exposure information of f/stop, shutter speed, the date, time, and increasingly the location where the exposure was made through GPS data. However, like all digital information, those with some technological savvy can alter or remove it. Even so, such data can become evidence to law enforcement, divorce lawyers, and news organizations among others. Since the storage media in electronic cameras can be erased and reused, a busy photojournalist might delete images of an event before their publication. With the  deletion of the master captures, a complete record of context is lost. If any of the remaining photographs were altered before publication, there would be no root image for comparison to prove that changes had been made. Confidence in the accuracy of photographs has eroded as news providers modify photographs without informing their readers. Often, the fault lies not with the photographers, but with the editors who control the content and style of their publications. Although media photographs have been altered since

photography’s social contract with truth We have a social contract with photographs and their truthfulness, which is why we still accept them as valid symbols of ourselves on official documents such as driver’s licenses and passports. Now, and perhaps especially since photography’s invention, images replace text and define behavior, shape identities, set fashions, and permeate our memories. Photo-based images are so interwoven into daily existence that life has become a collection of images, generating confusion between the artificial and the real.7 As a result, entertainment and mass media provide the primary frames of reference through which we filter our experiences. So-called “reality” based television shows, such as American Idol (2002–present), The Bachelor (2002–present), Keeping Up with the Kardashians (2007–present), The Real Housewives (2006–present), RuPaul’s Drag Race (2009–present), Survivor 9 (2000–present), and The Great British Bake Off (2010–present), graphically demonstrate how the authority of images frames realism, blurring the borders between truth and illusion, and news and entertainment. As a result, today’s digital culture has rendered only the most banal of photographs as above suspicion while remarkable images can go unnoticed in the mass of images in cyberspace or by means of modified digital copies that bear little similarity to the original. The malleability of digital media converts the static into the dynamic, turning completed, unalterable ideas and works into things of the past by permitting the process to be part of the product. Professions like photojournalism, rooted in the authenticity of photographic appearance and in

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© BARRY FRYDLENDER. Last Peace Demonstration, 2004. 50 × 6 feet 6¾ inches. Chromogenic color print. Barry Frydlender’s seamless panoramas present a unified strip of space that is not restricted to a uniform period of time. Hints to the passage of time divulge the image’s artificiality, which creates a more intensely detailed world than our own. Frydlender says, “They’re not really photographs anymore. They’re a marriage of two technologies: the art of the camera and the art of the computer. It’s not one instant, it’s many instants put together,” he explains. “And there’s a hidden history in every image.”10 COURTESY  Andrea Meislin Gallery, New York.

the invention of the printed halftone, the current descent can be traced back to 1982 when National Geographic’s  editors “moved” the Egyptian Great Pyramids at Giza closer together to accommodate the vertical composition of their cover. On the other side of the editorial desk, unethical photojournalists have lost their jobs because they were caught “Photoshopping” images before transmitting them to their editors.11 The intentional mishandling of such undetectable changes has contributed to skepticism about the accuracy of all photographs. As a result, the public is increasingly aware of the impossibility of separating “legitimate” images from those that have been manipulated without explanation, and we

all may come to regard news pictures as little more than advertisements, illustrations, and/or propaganda. Advertising has a long tradition of retouched images and today there is a widely unquestioned expectation that images for marketing have been significantly altered. In any case, the photojournalistic mode of direct camera representation, as seen in most major news media outlets, continues to play a vital role in how we assess the world. Barry Frydlender’s (b. 1954) images, which tackle the political, religious, and social complexities of life in Israel, indicate how digital imaging has altered the definition of photographic truth by mimicking and therefore undermining traditional

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photojournalistic methods. Although images such as  Last Peace Demonstration  (2004) appear to be a seamless representation of an actual event, they actually show the antithesis of single exposure “straight” photography. Such a picture results from numerous images that Frydlender assembled into a single, time-compressed cinemascopic frame. As such, he delivers a synthesis of the event based on many different vantage points and moments in time. “It’s not one instant, it’s many instants put together, and there’s a hidden history in every image.”12 This methodology results in an imagemaker who no longer passively experiences and edits the world, but is an active participant who creates a realm and then photographically enlivens it. The increasingly global adoption of all things digital is part of a larger questioning of the meaning of truth, which leaves the interpretation of cultural history, political events, and even personal memories more ambiguous, changeable, and unreliable than ever. The topic of an ever-shifting authenticity has received much cultural attention on television, particularly by political satirist Stephen Colbert, who popularized such buzz-words as “truthiness,”13 meaning “truth unencumbered by the facts,” and “Wikiality,” derived from the open-source Wikipedia information website, and meaning “reality as determined by majority vote.”14  It references Wiki websites where anything can become “true” if enough people say it is. Colbert proved the point by regularly calling on his audience to make changes to Wiki sites based on his false assertions. By inference, any kind of digital information— including audio and moving images—can become “real.” This means that digital truthiness, truth without the authority of the original, can be used to visualize playful fantasies or dangerous fallacies, since people like to “improve” upon the past by altering original content by means such as colorizing black-and-white photographs. As a result, the ubiquity of digital practice raises questions about how these new abilities might change the future

and affect our cultural and private memories: will we in our technical sophistication delete people and events that fall out of favor as has been done under totalitarian regimes?15 Will we convincingly rewrite a memory to alter the outcome of an event or exaggerate our strengths and play down our weaknesses?16 Ultimately, the meaning of photographs depends on what viewers decide to believe about them. By disputing the medium’s claims of objectivity through the use of photographic strategies that embrace artifice and simulation, conceptual and postmodern artists anticipated the digital message that photographs are not neutral containers of reality. Digital imaging tools make it possible to easily improvise or subvert reality. This has spawned artists who invent worlds based on the sensation and emotional weight of a subject rather than finding and presenting them, and viewers who are willing to accept such inventions. Into the first decades of the twenty-first century, artists have taken advantage of this multifaceted ability to express what makes up the “truth” of our world, and the signs that once were meant to refer to reality now only point to individualized versions of that reality. Gregory Crewdson  (b. 1962) applies elaborate Hollywood production methods, involving entire crews of technicians, to stage condensed cinematic stills that explore the tension between domesticity and nature in isolated suburban life, often with a surreal Freudian twist (his father was a psychoanalyst and he would listen through the floorboards to the patients in his father’s office in their Brooklyn home).17  Likewise, his organizational working process, involving preproduction, production, and postproduction, often expresses a similar sense of removal, isolation, and solitude. As an artist and teacher, Crewdson has propagated the use of intricate theatrical staging and lighting with digital manipulation to fabricate self-enclosed scenes that resemble museum dioramas and impart a sense of voyeurism, as if by an omnipotent observer,

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© GREGORY CREWDSON. Untitled, 2005. 64¼ × 95¼ inches. Chromogenic color print. Gregory Crewdson informs us: “I think my earliest memory of photographs came when my father brought me to the Museum of Modern Art when I was ten years old to see the Diane Arbus retrospective. I remember precisely that was the first sense I had that photographs could have psychological urgency and power. That was my first understanding of the mystery and complexity of pictures. But it wasn’t until later in life that I became a practicing photographer. I took my first photo class at SUNY Purchase [with Laurie Simmons] when I was an undergraduate. It came out of the frustrations with general academics because I’m dyslexic, and I’ve always had a hard time reading, writing, and test taking.”18 COURTESY  Gagosian Gallery, New York.

memory is fragile

illustrating the malleability of photographic information in the digital age.19 In any case, the primary issue remains not how an image is made, but what it communicates. Photographs continue to astonish viewers because so many do succeed in conveying meaning, regardless of whether or not they are unfailing containers of an agreed-upon reality.

Arguably, photographs are our most emotionally loaded link to the past. Although most theorists agree that digital data can be exactly copied without apparent loss, except when “glitches” occur, the problem of permanence remains an issue. Memory, for both humans and computers, is a fragile thing, always subject to alteration and deterioration. While digital storage capacity has increased and

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prices have plummeted, digital’s longevity has not made significant advancements in decades. Anyone who has worked with computers has experienced the frustration and expense of data loss along with changing hardware and programs. All material things are ultimately vulnerable. Untold glass plates, negatives, and prints have vanished. Social media has replaced the family album, once the physical record of generations and the emotional treasury of precious images. Conversely, a check on eBay reveals that innumerable, tangible photographic prints have survived. In the past, significant bodies of photographs, such as those made by Mike Disfarmer (see Chapter 12) and Vivian Maier (see Chapter 16), have only been posthumously brought to public attention when a large trove of works was rediscovered and promoted. While images continue to be made at a furious pace, their accessibility and permanence could be in doubt. Many  people now put their trust in the Cloud, hoping that it will not evaporate and take all their images with it. Depending on circumstances beyond the control of most if not all photographers, we may be entering a time when a significant portion of our photographic heritage could be suddenly lost or locked away by obsolete programs in failed and/ or discarded hard drives—little metal boxes as inaccessible as any vault or by malicious hackers.

faced with an inversion of that phrase: the memory without a mirror, as we are now seeing a constantly changing stream of images on large and small screens. These images reflect both our outside world and our inner lives—and perhaps this has always been true about photography. However, we are now left to sort out which is which, as we quickly attempt to make sense out of images that are bombarding us faster than ever before. A recent Adobe study claims that content makers now make up 23 percent of people globally, indicating almost one in four individuals over the age of 18 are creating, posting, and promoting their work online.21 Perhaps the greatest paradox is that with all of these technological changes, photography can still generally remain recognizable as photography. When a photographer like Sebastião Salgado (see Chapter 14), who works in a traditional manner, switches from film to pixels his working style continues to be unmistakably his own. Just as the calotype added multiplicity and manipulation to the vocabulary of photography that the daguerreotype did not possess (see Chapters 2 and 3), digital tools have not eliminated the power of lens-based images, rather they have added to the possibilities. And while the darkroom mystery of making photographs is now the exception, cellphone cameras have vastly democratized the picturemaking process in localities, such as in Africa and China, where cameras were once not common. George Eastman’s 1888 dream for his Kodak #1 of making photography fun and easy to do (“You Press the Button, and We Do the Rest”) has been realized and extended, except now “you” can also do the rest. The near universal appeal of photography may lie in its ability to share an experience. Digital technology has transformed the private, physical snapshot and the family album into public, virtual, social media events. In 1992 Kodak introduced its Photo CD service that was billed as the perfect archival solution. One hundred images could be scanned onto special gold discs designed to last a hundred

MIRROR WITHOUT A MEMORY In the June 1859 issue of  The Atlantic Monthly, physician, poet, and polymath Oliver Wendell Holmes Sr. wrote an article on “The Stereoscope and the Stereograph”20  describing photography as the  mirror with a memory. He considered it a miracle of its age, and like all miracles, it displays our deepest hopes and wishes. With the nearly universal acceptance of digital images, we are currently

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years, but they were saved in a software format that has become unreadable by today’s computers. This was followed by JPEG files saved to the lower resolution Kodak Picture CD, which “gives you everything you need: your full roll of pictures, organized and safely stored, plus fun interactive software [that] makes it easy to email a picture, even share a whole roll with family and friends around the world and [the Kodak Picture Disk] lets you view your pictures on screen and more.”22  Now numerous such social media services, including Facebook, Flickr, Instagram, Twitter, and YouTube, solicit people to post and view endless amounts of visual information, affecting society by making the once intimate and private snapshot public, raising privacy issues.23 How influential is photo-based social media? It was reported that parents were even naming their children after Instagram photographic filters, such as Lux, Ludwig, and Juno.24  However, a problem with many of the social media images is they are

often not individually impactful, as they need to be seen within the wider context of the maker’s other posts to be comprehended, requiring one to scroll through virtual pages of personal vanity where daily banality is given with the importance of breaking news along with endless advertisements. The marketing of digital image manipulation programs like Adobe Photoshop, released in 1990, coupled with constantly evolving delivery formats including the internet, has given digital photographers more options for easier, faster, and more reliable methods of creating and distributing their work. While limitations of scale, resolution, and color calibration continue to be issues in the presentation of digital content, projectors and screens offer tonal ranges that significantly exceed that of prints with options such as tablets growing rapidly in popularity. In his bilingual CD,  Truths & Fiction: A Journey from Documentary to Digital Photography (1995), Pedro Meyer (b. 1935) was one of the first photographers to take advantage of these new ways of working to explore how such shifts in visual truth can alter our relationship to photographic representation. By combining images, video, and narration, Meyer challenges assumptions about where photographic “truth” ends and “fiction” begins. He argues that digital manipulation can continue the tradition of “straight photography.” From this point of view, a photographer who digitally manipulates a photograph is no different than a photographer who gives directions from behind the camera. Both stage-manage the “truth” to capture their moment of truth. Meyer is also the founder and president of the Consejo Mexicano de Fotografía (Mexican Council of Photography). His active website, www.zonezero.com, is dedicated to an ongoing reflection on photography’s evolution, and he presents a wide array of articles and work from around the world. A key element of postmodern discourse can be understood in terms of photography’s relinquishing

© PEDRO MEYER. Explosion of Green Chairs (Tlaxiaco, Oaxaca, Mexico), 1991/1993/2008. Dimensions variable. Digital file. Commenting on why he adopted digital technology Meyer said: “Merging photographs can be more real than the isolated image because reality is so much more rich than just an isolated moment. The digital tools allow us to have control over what and how we can alter an image that was unimaginable in the era of analog photography… I always found it rather pathetic that as a photographer I would be dependent to such a large extent on sheer luck… So the moment I was offered [digital] tools to bend the shape of the image into my choices, and not those of lady luck, I was hooked.”25

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ANDREAS GURSKY. 99 Cent, 1999. 81½ × 132 5⁄8 inches. Chromogenic color print.Andreas Gursky constructs hyper-focused tableaux from existing elements that give visual weight to both foreground and background, which contain enormous amounts of information. Gursky comments: “You never notice arbitrary details in my work. On a formal level, countless interrelated micro and macrostructures are woven together, determined by an overall organizational principle.”26 © Andreas Gursky/2024 Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York, NY/VG Bild-Kunst, Bonn. COURTESY

Sprüth Magers Berlin and London and Gagosian, New York.

its role as society’s authoritative chronicler, in favor of a position that acknowledges that reality is a constantly evolving construction involving societal values and the viewer. As we have learned, Baudrillard rejects Oliver Wendell Holmes’s view of photography as a “mirror with a memory,” seeing it instead as an endless passageway of mirrors. The photo-based arts, including film, television, and video, serve as cultural agents that provide representational images that our society sanctions as a simulacrum of the real.27 The decline in the documentary authority of photography has much to do with Western culture, where a postmodern academic dissection of images has led to a devaluation of a photograph’s inherent believability. Two important questions facing the photographic arts are: Can

the digital replica, the twin that offers comforting fellowship at the expense of individuality, escape the aura of the original and provide insight into reality? And can this escape be affected by making a reproduction that is not only trustworthy, but also at times even “better” than the original? In the blue-chip art world,  Andreas Gursky’s (b. 1955) gigantic spectacles of industrial culture combine large-format film capture with imaging software to generate a premeditated hybrid of modern culture that appears more real than reality itself. His seductively colorful, super-formalistic, and hyper-detailed  compositions synthesize the consumer-driven, fast-paced, high-tech, and expensive phenomena of globalization. A student of the Bechers (see Chapter 18), he creates work

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that evokes an anonymous and orderly postmodern sense of indifference that can make individuals aware they are inconsequential, just one among billions. His images are so perfectly beautiful and sublime that they hang in both museums and corporate boardrooms. Gursky’s supersized prints, based on an art world language that can confuse scale for importance, are indicative of the rise of market-driven production values. High-end New York galleries encourage artists to produce monumental works that successfully compete for wall space once reserved for paintings. Such overwhelming works generate astronomical prices, making them investment opportunities. This has led some to say money is the new art criticism, and that it has replaced serious curatorship in deciding what major museums exhibit and ignores wide areas of artistic production.28 Rising from the desert and appearing as if it were a tangible work of digital photography, the massive Las Vegas casino complex  NewYork, NewYork  (1997), is a matchless example of amalgamated architectural playacting featuring replicas of the Empire State Building and the Statue of Liberty. Here the surrogate is not only acceptable but for many becomes a preferred way of visiting New York, one that eliminates the perceived hassles and risks of a trip to the actual city.29 This reflects the postmodern mindset that believes reality doesn’t exist until the viewer analyzes it. Another important question is: Does digitization inspire a metaphysical meditation about the one (the original) and the many (the copies), about reality and appearance? By accepting the duality of the twin, one can acknowledge the creative dilemma between the original and what it needs to be securely anchored to: the distance and separation of the copy. Like presenting one’s self to its reflection in a mirror, the quest for authenticity inevitably involves a doubling back, so that ultimately it takes a multiplicity of views to know the single one. This has led the Marxist ideology of Walter Benjamin’s 1936 essay, “The Work

of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction” (see Chapter 14), to be reworked for our modern capitalistic society where the existing system of valuing images based on their aura of originality has been replaced by one that prizes reproduction and mass circulation. Digital copying, file sharing, social media, and internet hits boost an image’s currency and make it more widely known and hence more valuable. This provides the copy with an importance not available to the original: the sense of being part of an extended collective experience, which allows an image to take on a life of its own. In this vein, which reveals the contradictions and inconsistencies of what constitutes our contemporary reality,  Thomas Demand  (b. 1964), who originally trained as a sculptor, breaks down this facade by remaking the world with paper and cardboard sculptures that he then photographs. His facsimiles, sometimes based on historic photographs, that can range from Hitler’s underground bunker to Jackson Pollock’s Long Island studio, are destroyed after he photographs them. His conceptual methodology of structural instability, the final work being three times removed from the original, questions the relationship between the artificial and the real as well as between evanescence and permanence. “Sculpture aims for permanence, for presence, while the photograph is destined to render something visible that occurred at a particular moment in front of the lens. Essentially I play these two forms off against each other.”30 By working in this uncanny gap between the world and the images of the world, Demand punctures photographic veracity to fabricate an unstable world of images, eroding the idea of the maker-narrator as the trustworthy purveyor of a reliable record, which allows meaning to flow like running water.

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THOMAS DEMAND. Grotte, 2006. 78 × 173 inches. Chromogenic color print. For Grotte Demand used a digital program to cut each of the 900,000 layers of heavy gray cardboard, weighing 50 tons, which he used to build his grotto, layer upon layer. Wanting certain parts of the final photograph to lack definition, Demand actually built “pixels” in cardboard, tiny squares that deceive the eye into thinking the photograph is unfocused, when in fact it is faithfully reproducing the “reality” of the sculpted grotto. “Digital is just a technique of the imagination. It is opening possibilities that wouldn’t have been there before. But I lose interest in a photograph once I see it is digitally made because it is all about betraying you in a way. I think my work has a lot in common with what digital wants, rather than being digital. Basically, it is constructing a reality for the surface of a picture.”31 COURTESY

© 2024 Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York, NY/VG Bild-Kunst, Bonn.

internet immediacy:  social media, time-based art, and smartphones

perhaps cut the phenomenological connection with the object being photographed that defined how we once knew the medium, one only has to look at the internet to see that all images are founded on a shared and evolving vocabulary. Certain artists have responded to this phenomenon by continuing to value thoughtful, methodical practices that allow time to ponder meanings and create works which reward contemplation. This practice is referred to as time-based art that encompasses performance, film, video, and digital works as in Douglas Gordon’s (b. 1966) installation 24 Hour Psycho (1993) in which he appropriates Alfred Hitchcock’s film Psycho (1960) and slows it down to about two frames a second, rather than the usual twenty-four frames. The result is the film

In many ways, the social upheavals surrounding photography have had a bigger effect on imagemaking than the change of tools has had. The speed in which electronic media has so thoroughly enmeshed itself in Western culture has made analog photography nearly obsolete except as a fine art form. The ever-present accessibility of digital information has produced an expectation for immediacy, where everything is anticipated to be available with a few clicks or taps. This expectancy has unsettled many people, leaving them nostalgic for the physical artifacts of the mechanical era. While digital has

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lasts for exactly twenty-four hours, rather than the original 109 minutes without its soundtrack. Such museum-based work produces an anachronism by monumentalizing and alienating an audience’s everyday understanding of movies, which once was a shared communal experience. However, the general public, with its short attention span and scant knowledge of art and photographic history or practice, usually dismiss such experiments, preferring instead a quick stylistic simulation of a Polaroid or sepia tone from their smartphone applications which usually satisfies such a contemplative urge. The downside of making everyone a photographer is there is often nothing special about such photographs because they  are no different than millions of other pictures.32 Is there any limit to how many cat photos the world wants to see? Apparently not. As of this writing there are at least 6.5 billion on the internet. About 15 percent of internet traffic is driven by cat videos, accounting for more than 26 billion views.33 The wildfire adoption of the smartphone camera and its accompanying apps has driven this change, making every user a potential photographer with the ability to integrate/share their images with just a tap on their smartphone’s keypad. The posting of digital images on social media sites has exponentially increased the number of accessible images in the world and the ease with which they can be appropriated and given new life in often-unexpected ways. Penelope Umbrico (b. 1957) explores the mounting production and consumption of online  photographic images by examining subjects that are collectively photographed and posted “online as a collective archive that represents us—a constantly changing auto-portrait. The work is an accumulation that navigates between consumer and producer, materiality and immateriality, and individual and collective expression.”34 In her 5,377,183 Suns from Flickr  (Partial) (2009), consisting of 1,440 chromogenic color prints, Umbrico took screen shots of the thousands of sunset images (a

commonly shared image on Flickr) directly from the computer screen, cropped just the suns from each image, and had them printed by Kodak at 4 × 6 inches. The title reflects the number of hits she got searching “sunset” on Flickr, when she began the series in 2006, a number that only lasts a moment before increasing. Her capture method produces a moiré pattern, an optical illusion, which facilitates the blending of the images into one another. This simultaneously causes viewers to go in opposite directions: being aware of the screen’s materiality makes the natural sunlight even more remote while recontextualizing all the original pictures into one big sun. Umbrico comments, “Looking into this cool electronic space one finds a virtual window onto the natural world.”35 In a twist of rephotography and making a full loop, people took pictures of themselves in front of the work, as if they were standing in front of a real sunset, and they posted their pictures on social media, making one wonder if anyone under 30 years old cares about the sun’s aura of originality?36 In Mountains, Moving: of Aperture’s Masters of Photography (22 Westons) (2014), Umbrico utilized over 500 smartphone camera apps with their more than 6,000 filters to generate new photographs of canonical master photographs that include mountains. She finds these images in advertisements, books, magazines, and online, and she presents them both as prints and as a digital slide show. The moiré patterns meld with the hallucinogenic colors of camera app filters to produce fluid yet perplexing visual effects. Once again Umbrico establishes a discourse of opposites: original and copy, single and multiple, community and privacy, stability and variability, as well as technical correctness and mistakes, creating a dualistic sense of solidity and the transitory. This reflects the trend that the concept of the master photographer is fading as it becomes more difficult to declare a leader in a medium that is going in so many directions at once, and how the shift in context, from the internet as opposed to

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© PENELOPE UMBRICO. Mountains, Moving: of Aperture’s Masters of Photography (22 Wessons), 2014. Each being 6 × 8 inches, 8 × 8 inches, or 8 × 10 inches, overall 35 × 50 inches. Inkjet prints. Penelope Umbrico informs us that her project Mountains, Moving, “considers an analog history of photography within the digital torrent that is its current technological manifestation. I steady my focus on the mountain: oldest subject, stable object, singular, immovable landmark, site of orientation, place of spiritual contemplation. My mountains are unstable, mobile, have no gravity, change with each iteration, remastered. I present a dialogue between distance and proximity, limited and unlimited, the singular and the multiple, the fixed and the moving, the master and the copy. I propose an inverse correlation between the number of photographs that exist of mountains at any one time, and the stability of photography at that time.” COURTESY  Bruce Silverstein Gallery, New York and Mark Moore Gallery, Culver City, CA.

a physical print-based media, can revise meaning, artistic significance, and audience reach. What it does not guarantee is that anyone is actually spending more time looking at or thinking about photo-based work, which can appear to be but a droplet in a restless ocean of innumerable imagery. For both digital and analog photographers, the good news about shifting from the print to the screen is that the internet offers a vastly expanded

photographic dialogue with social networking and video sharing websites, web pages, blogs, ezines, discussion groups, and chat rooms. The sheer numbers of daily, shared online images make photography more egalitarian, relevant, and make it more difficult to determine fact from fantasy than ever.37 Social media image sites, such as Flickr, Instagram, and TikTok, provide quick access to

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innumerable searchable images and brief videos have become stiff competition to stock and editorial photography agencies, such as Getty Images. Many well-established photographers use such sites, not just for self-promotion, but also as a space to explore and disseminate new directions in their work. Many museums and public collections, including the Getty, the Library of Congress, and the MET are making parts of their holdings accessible online and allowing the public to

download images for their own use. Artists such as Mishka Henner (b. 1976) in  51 U.S. Military Outposts  (2010); Michael Wolf (b. 1954) in  A Series of Unfortunate Events (2010); Doug Rickard’s (1968) A New American Picture (2012), Video: https://americansuburbx.com/2011/06/asx-tvdoug-rickard-a-new-american-picture-2011.html; Jon Rafman (b. 1981) in  9-Eyes  (2008–ongoing); who have been mining the virtual worlds of computer games, Second Life, and Google Earth or Street View as image sources of surprising and unusual “decisive moments” (see Henri Cartier-Bresson, Chapter 13) that represent a new genre of internet-based artmaking. Rafman’s curated, worldwide, digital road trips are arranged in a massive database and published on blogs, in books, and as prints (see: https://9-eyes.com/). Although the sourcing and collecting methods of this way of working are new, the decisive moment concept of “finding” a picture is not. Henner’s recent Putin’s Prison presents a series of screen captures taken from unsecured security cameras across Russia between April 3–4 2022, on the 40th day of Russia’s invasion of Ukraine. These banal views are punctured by hackers’ replacement of standard data with anti-war, anti-Putin, and pro-Ukrainian slogans. These interventions highlight vulnerabilities in Russia’s domestic surveillance apparatus and allude to a larger information war being waged across the media on either side of the conflict. However successful these actions may be, the inclusion of counter-narrative text to the surveillance image is an ingenious attempt to subvert the camera’s ability to enforce State control over its citizens.38

© MISHKA HENNER. Prime Base Engineer Emergency Force Camp Justice, Diego Garcia 7°20’S 72°25’E, 2010, from the series Fifty-One US Military Outposts, 2010. 59 × 59 inches. Inkjet print. Henner uses the surveillance capabilities of Google Street View and satellite imaging to make work that reveals how the internet has transformed our visual experience by lucidly capturing the human impact on the landscape, which has become more relevant with the raising problem caused by climate change. Henner

Many of his works resulted in print-on-demand books as a means to bypass traditional publishing models. Although the sourcing, collecting, and circulating methods of this way of working are new, the decisive moment concept of “finding” a picture is not.

tells us that this series calls attention to “Overt and covert military outposts used by the United States in fifty-one different countries across the world. Sites located and gathered from information available in the public domain, official US military and veterans’ websites and forums, domestic and foreign news articles, and official and leaked government documents and reports.”39 COURTESY  Bruce Silverstein Gallery, New York.

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The internet has also propelled the adoption of GIFs (graphic interchange format devised in 1987)—animated images applied by instant visual-messaging users on their  mobile devices to express complex emotions and thoughts as a replacement for text and photographs. Generally, GIFs are a few seconds long, play in a soundless loop, and are often chosen from movie and TV clips. They can be a more effective form of visual communication than the emoji, as the movements in a GIF can deliver a wider range of expressions and have been popular on adult sites. Although there is now substantial competition, GIF remains popular as its lossless data compression can reduce file size without degrading the visual quality. This introduction of movement can be traced to the fact that most digital cameras can record video and sound, and have been utilized as cost-effective tools in Hollywood and independent productions. Photographers have applied this feature not in the making of narrative movies, but in recording inventive performances that extend a photographic vocabulary to time-based media. It is commonplace to see exhibitions where video work accompanies a photographer’s prints. This is yet another example of the blurring of boundaries between the artistic disciplines in which students are often taught to first be an artist, and then to choose the medium that best expresses their intentions. Online auction sites, such as eBay, have facilitated the worldwide, everyday sale of historic and contemporary photographs and equipment. These auction sites have also turned sellers of other items into mostly straightforward photographers, and their homes into studios as they take pictures of their wares for online display. Additionally, digital book publishing services, such as Blurb, Lulu, and Shutterfly, realize the dream that Henry Fox Talbot expressed in The Pencil of Nature (1844) of everyone becoming their “own printer and publisher.” The digital era ushered in a deluge of online blogs, discussion groups, and podcasts that

examine and comment on photographic-based imagery. While this has vastly expanded the diversity of voices, the competition for attention has also fractured significant analysis into many small echo chambers of like-minded individuals with no particular critic leading a public debate that engages the entire field. Digital imaging is just the latest evolutionary step in photographic imagemaking. Its importance lies not in the details of the process but in the largely unpredictable future of how it will transform our thinking. For instance, in the 1970s holography was heralded as a revolutionary form of imagemaking, but it remains chiefly used as a security device on credit cards, and in merchandise bar codes and on many currencies, including the dollar and the euro. The recent NFTs (non-fungible tokens) phenomena, are cryptographic assets on a blockchain record (a digital ledger) that are associated with a particular digital or physical asset, which provides a public certificate of authenticity (COA) or proof of ownership (a Title). Currently, the extralegal nature of NFT trading has no legal basis for enforcement and often confers little more than a status symbol. Instead of a physical work, what one actually owns is a line of code that represent items such as photographs, videos, audio or any other type of digital files including text. NFTs disrupt the ancient practice of humans surrounding themselves with physical objects that they find comforting and inspiring. At this early stage they appear to be a novel investment vehicle that gains media attention through high-profile auctions of digital art, such as digital artist, graphic designer, and animator Mike Winkelmann (b. 1981), a.k.a Beeple. Beeple claims to be “One of the originators of the current everyday movement in 3D graphics, … creating a picture everyday from start to finish and posting it online for over ten years without missing a single day.”40 His work has been criticized for its lowbrow sensibility, which Beeple proudly welcomes. However, when assessing Beeple’s work one critic wrote:

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© MIKE WINKELMANN (a.k.a BEEPLE). Everydays: The First 5000 Days, minted February 16, 2021. Non-fungible token ID: 40913. Mike Winkelmann (a.k.a BEEPLE) sold a non-fungible token of his Everydays: The First 5000 Days (2021) for $69 million at a Christie’s auction, a breakthrough at the junction of internet culture and financial speculation. Winkelmann stitched together his thirteen-and-a-half-year symbolic collection of hand drawn and computer produced pop culture images with recurring themes and color schemes in loose chronological order: zooming in reveals picture details. Recurring themes include society’s obsession with and fear of technology; the desire for and resentment of wealth; and America’s current political turbulence. Winkelmann remarked: “I think this is a truly historic moment not just for digital art, but for the entire fine art world. The technology is now at a place with the blockchain to be able to prove ownership and have true scarcity with digital artwork so I think we are going to see an explosion of not only new artwork, but also new collectors and I am very honored to be a part of this movement.”41 COURTESY

Christie’s, London & New York.

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was an early adopter of digital technology, works with a smartphone camera as a gateway to capture and process his images on-location, in the manner of  plein air  painters, with an array of inexpensive imaging applications. Burkholder asserts: “For the first time we have both camera and darkroom in the palm of our hands.”43  Utilizing this benefit, Burkholder reverses the usual electronic workflow by fusing a digital image with a handmade one. After in-camera processing, he enriches the digital image through an analog printing process that entails hand coating thin, vellum paper prints with platinum/ palladium sensitizer and 24K gold leaf that fuses

His images are not a deadpan commentary on the meaninglessness of social-media content, in the manner of Richard Prince’s Instagram replicas. They are an embodiment of it, each just titillating enough to make the viewer hit the “like” button before scrolling past. Their highest accomplishment might be as a digital time capsule, a hieroglyphic record of the overstimulated yet undernourished online hive mind.42

In the hands of an artist, even the smartphone camera can be subverted to push back against the digital tidal wave of algorithms and enable new forms of creativity. Dan Burkholder (b. 1950), who

© DAN BURKHOLDER. Passing Sheep, Tuscany, 2013. Variable dimensions. Inkjet print. COURTESY  The Catherine Couturier Gallery, Houston, TX, and Sun to Moon Gallery, Dallas, TX.

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the subject’s appearance with his internal interpretation of it, adding a pictorialist-style physicality to the electronic image. By reintroducing the hand of the artist, Burkholder makes the point that “I am more concerned with emotional honesty than literal honesty in my photographs. My job is to respond to visual intrigue and beauty, and then to create a photograph that conveys to the viewer my feelings for the subject.”44 Photographers have been actively investigating the transformative possibilities of digital imaging;

often creating a hybrid medium of pictures and sounds that combine on a screen, moving the medium further from its singular, object-oriented past, or possibly returning it to its origins in Daguerre’s Diorama (see Chapter 1).45

scanner as a camera While the ability to electrically transmit a photograph over wires had existed since the beginning of the twentieth century, it was not until 1957 that Russell A. Kirsch made the first digital scan of an image, a photograph of his infant son Walden. Scanners operate as input devices that digitize information directly from printed or photographic materials in a method similar to photocopiers. Essentially, a scanner is a compact, self-contained photographic studio, complete with optics and lights, that produces images with an extremely limited depth of field. Light is reflected off or through an image or object and interpreted by light sensors. Color scanners use RGB filters to read an image in single or multiple passes. Scanners function like a focal-plane shutter (see Chapter 8) in a conventional camera set to a low shutter speed. The image is exposed as a one-pixel-wide line at a time, a line that moves across whatever is on the scanner platter, whereas activity occurring elsewhere in the field of view is not captured. Motion is not recorded as a blur, but as a distortion in a predictable manner based on the speed and direction of the scanner’s movement. Scanners only capture very slow movements, while camera shutters can record the blurring effect of fast-moving objects. The well-known 1912 image of a speeding racecar made by the young Jacques-Henri Lartigue (see Chapter 13) shows this phenomenon to pronounced effect. This can also be seen in the work of Carol Selter (b. 1944), who in the later 1990s placed live animals on her scanner, which recorded the dynamic patterns of their movement, dispensing with a Renaissance view of time

© MAITHA BIN DEMITHAN. Still Waters, 2012. 35 3⁄8 × 30 inches. Inkjet print.

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© MAGGIE TAYLOR. Burden of Dreams, 2013. 15 × 15 inches. Inkjet print. Taylor tells us: “The scanner is very hands-on because I work with real objects, which I spend weeks modifying on the computer. I think of it in the same way as someone making a physical collage, except my configurations happen on a screen. My approach is spontaneous and open. Having infinitely changeable images allows me to step back-and-forth in time. This is an advantage for experimenting, as I am not permanently committed to decisions, as I would be if I were doing it manually. I do my own printing on a matte surface paper to have a more ink-on-paper feel. Overall, it’s a sticky issue as to whether you would say working digitally in this manner is hands-on or not.”46

as a single moment in space and offering in its place a fractured, almost cubistic way of seeing a subject. Emirati artist Maitha Bin Demithan (b. 1989) scans human figures in sections with the scanner placed directly on the bodies of her subjects and then digitally re-assembles the person. The resulting composite presents an objective and mechanical

record as well as an emotional statement centered on the body’s forms and textures. Other artists, like Maggie Taylor (b. 1961), who studied with and later married and divorced Jerry Uelsmann, embarked on utilizing a flatbed scanner instead of a camera in 1996 as the basis for forming surrealistic montages with romantic subtexts.

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Taylor conceptually shifts the nineteenth-century scientific aesthetic of Anna Atkins’s cameraless, cyanotypes and Lady Filmer’s Victorian domestic collages into  the essence of unconscious association. Rather than physically building a collage piece by piece, Taylor manipulates digital layers to form unlikely juxtapositions of the nineteenth-century photographs and three-dimensional found objects that comprise her source materials. Her resulting fantastical iconography inspires the intuitive, subconscious mind to roam, launching different metaphoric/symbolic interpretations that allow each viewer to participate in the construction of meanings. Her work has become so iconic that it nearly constitutes a whole new genre of photographic images with many imitators.

a creative opportunity and is one of photography’s current and longstanding strengths.47  This supports a challenge to the modernist orthodoxy with a return to ideas from Dada, surrealism, and Constructivism (with their use of photomontage), as well as the often-criticized expressive pictorialist aesthetic of altering what the camera delivers to better communicate an artist’s personal vision.48 New technologies not only change the form and content of images, but also the ways in which photographers involve themselves in the imagemaking process. One can now purchase cameras designed to function without a photographer being present at all. Marketed primarily to wildlife photographers, these camouflage wrapped “game/trail” cameras rely on the motion of their subjects to trigger an exposure, taking photographers out of selecting the “decisive moment” and shifting their involvement to that of planner and editor. This recalls Philip-Lorca diCorcia’s series Heads from the early 2000s, where he used a remotely activated camera and powerful strobe to photograph people in New York’s Times Square without them being aware that their images were being taken.49 Additionally, software is now being marketed that lets one place their action camera, such as a GoPro, onto a wireless charging mat that automatically syncs the raw video to “the Cloud,” internet-based computing and data storage that shares resources as opposed to using personal devices to handle applications. The program then edits out what it considers to be the unexciting moments (lack of movement) and leaves only the action-filled ones.50  It can also merge footage from multiple cameras and locations into a single video without the maker’s input. The application responds to voice commands, with no need to operate physical controls. With such algorithms making decisions once made by humans, cameras with encoded composition guides and drones making automatic pictures based on programmed aesthetics are just around the corner.

DEATH OF THE PHOTO GRAPHER? The death of photography has been proclaimed for years, but that is mere hyperbole, and it fails to acknowledge the medium’s continuous technical evolution. What has happened is that the assurance of silver photography’s fixed relationship to indexicality has been replaced by the assimilation of postmodernist ideas along with a flexible binary code in which an image is always open for re-interpretations. Unlike a photograph, a digital image does not authenticate one’s experiences, but rather transforms the process from producing a fixed, physical object into one that delivers fluid and mutable information. Entering the second decade of the twenty-first century, digital imaging has swept away photography’s original paradigm of straightforward objective truth and replaced it with a new multi-perspective system of depicting reality, much like how Cubism revolutionized seeing a hundred years before. For many imagemakers, this ambiguous area between reality and expression provides

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Such tools are facilitating the disappearance of the photographer, the requirement of individuals on the scene to make a photograph and imprint their personal style on the result. The public began to become aware of this during the 1970s as America’s National Aeronautics and Space Administration (NASA) came to rely more on teams of experts to

construct digital images made by robotic cameras traveling in space that were transmitted back to earth, such as the Mars Viking Orbiter of 1975. The colors in these images are often synthetic, selected by scientists to better highlight specific data and they bear little relation to what a human observer might see were they present. The recent examples

© NASA and the Space Telescope Science Institute. Pillars of Creation, 2022. Dimensions vary. Digital image file. The James Webb Space Telescope is a space telescope that conducts infrared astronomy. As the largest optical telescope in space, its high resolution and sensitivity allow it to view objects too old, distant, or faint for the previous Hubble space telescope to record. Dr. Andrew Hershberger, professor of art history, informs us: “I often tell my history of photography students about seeing an exhibition of such NASA photographs at the Center for Creative Photography. I thought then, and I still think now, how curious it was to see those photographs in that particular museum. The photographs were made in outer space, many during a NASA Mars mission, with no humans present. I thought then, and I still wonder now, can those photographs be regarded as ‘creative photography’? They were shown in the same galleries where Ansel Adams’s works had just been on display. I still do not know precisely how to answer that question, and that is yet another example of how the history of photography is so fascinating.” 51 COURTESY  NASA and the Space Telescope Science

Institute.

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can be seen in NASA’s James Webb telescope images online (www.nasa.gov/webbfirstimages). Now we are confronted with sizeable numbers of automatic, private, and public surveillance cameras plus satellites that can be seen in operation worldwide. These are often tied into government as well as law enforcement surveillance systems that permit nearly everything around us to be unobtrusively observed and photographed.52 Every day we are surrounded by photographic images that have no substance in reality. Just as a digital camera simulates the processes of chemical photography, we now replicate the action of light on objects and their depiction with a lens through 3D digital modeling and rendering tools. To accomplish this, objects are created three-dimensionally in the virtual space of a computer as structures called “wireframes.” These purely mathematical descriptions of forms are assigned physical properties such as color, reflectivity, texture, and transparency. Often, photographic images are wrapped around these shapes to more closely match the real object. The artist then illuminates the scene with virtual lights and is ready for the final step called “rendering”—the equivalent to making a traditional photographic exposure. In a highly time-intensive process, the computer simulates the physics of light moving through a scene generating accurate highlights, shadows, and reflections for each pixel of a final image. When done with skill and sophistication, this technology can produce simulations of reality that are indistinguishable from ordinary photographs. The complexity of digital 3D modeling used in advertising, Ikea product photography, and movies, such as  Avatar  (2012), and  Gravity  (2013)53  as well as the  Lord of the Rings  (2001–2003) and  The Hobbit  (2012–2013), requires a group of people with different skill sets to collaborate on each frame. Proclivities of individual panache and the belief that noteworthy breakthroughs are only made by solitary geniuses must often be set aside in these vast collaborative productions.54

Computer experts from the Smithsonian and the University of Southern California’s Institute for Creative Technologies teamed up to take the first 3D presidential portrait. The picture of President Barack Obama utilized a custom-built 50 LED light array; eight “sports” cameras, and six wide-angle cameras. The photograph was then 3D printed and is available for viewing at the Smithsonian. Like the work of  artist Karin Sander (b. 1957), her series 1:10 (1999–2001), in which she digitally captures and 3D prints full figure portraits at onetenth scale, harkens back to nineteenth-century death masks, where plaster was used to accurately capture a likeness, which foreshadows a fully threedimensional form of photography.

the photographer’s evolving role: 3d modeling and ai image generators Artists employ these 3D digital modeling tools to make “photographs” without the presence of a physical object, undermining our trust in the truthfulness of all photographs. Working with 3D modeling software gives artists the power and obligation to control and understand the symbols in their work. The Swiss psychoanalyst Carl Jung said that images are the native language of the unconscious, suggesting how deeply rooted the creation of metaphor remains in the human psyche. As the son of a psychiatrist and amateur artist/photographer, Edward Bateman (b. 1962) smartly and playfully upends photographic history and veracity by uniting the physical/real and the mental/imaginary, to annihilate traditional photographic space and time. Although some elements in his work depict “real” things, many have never had a tangible physical existence. Instead, he modeled them in a computer that mimics light itself, one beam at a time, in a process that can take from hours to days to complete and that involves trillions of computer calculations. The results are like ghosts

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© EDWARD BATEMAN. Blvd. du Temple, Plate No. 4, 2022. 6 3⁄5 x 4 4⁄5 inches (same size as Daguerre’s original). Pigment print on metallic silver paper. Edward Bateman makes the fictional claim to have discovered a new, previously unknown version of Daguerre’s View Boulevard du Temple (see Chapter 1), the first photograph known to depict a person. The long exposure time turned the busy Paris streets into a ghost town. The light sensitivity of the early process only captured subjects that remained stationary. The “truth” of the scene is left to our imagination to populate with carts, carriages, and pedestrians. Bateman imagines an anomalously brief exposure time or perhaps that Daguerre, on seeing his success in capturing a solitary individual, may have hired a troupe of actors, carts, and carriages to hold still for the photograph. Were elephants truly used to transport cargo in 1830s Paris or are they figments of our imagination? 55

made of nothing more substantial than numbers. Created without a camera or a lens, they are a digital latent image. Yet they seemingly share space with objects that have both physicality and history. As part of his malleable working process, Bateman employs Jungian dream interpretation techniques and strategies into his work, stating:

I see every object as being symbolic, creating links between the various elements in my images. Essentially, I aim to construct visual synchronicity, which can be loosely defined as meaningful coincidence, reflecting how our brains try to organize and make sense of our visual world. For objects with strong metaphorical potential, meaning is seldom fixed. It is their context that

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LOST AND FOUND

allows our minds to read the associations and construct meaning, often unconsciously.56

A truism in the nonlinear path of progress is that gain seldom comes without loss. As most professional photographers and schools have replaced their darkrooms with computers, there has been a reaction to the vanishing physical darkroom work. The magical darkroom experience of seeing an image develop in a tray of chemicals became an “Aha Moment” of discovery and insight for some people, setting them on a life’s path into photography. Many photographers still cherish how “the dimly glowing light, the sound of trickling water, and the acrid smells of acetic acid and  fixer rising from the sink create an otherworldly environment that alters customary space and time, spurring the senses to circumvent the confines of familiarity and predictability.”59  In past photographic practices, artists encouraged and embraced the material act of darkroom work to guide their outcomes. But just as the upswing of music samplers and synthesizers did not spell the end of acoustic instruments, a growing number of visual artists understand the expressive power of analog tools. Jerry Uelsmann explains this position: “I am sympathetic to the current digital revolution and excited by the visual options created by the computer. However, I feel my creative process remains intricately linked to the alchemy of the darkroom.”60 Today, the manual production of photographic prints by contemporary artists can be seen not as nostalgia but as a reaction to the pervasive, intangible perfection and often low quality online of digital images. It can also be an intentional act of rebellion against the importance many academics place on theories of practice and content. Under the gaze of postmodernist writers, photography has been posited as an intellectual activity, and coupled with digital photography’s similarity to a text on a screen, it is not surprising that fine art photographs are often valued more as illustrations for intellectual arguments than as objects of beauty, skill, and

In turn, Bateman’s complex invented worlds startle viewers and invite them to explore their own conceptual linkages by asking questions and following the threads to often surprising answers. It is also a reminder that all physical artifacts are unstable and vulnerable to time, destructive forces, physical alterations, and changing interpretations. At the imagemaking frontier, artifical intelligence (AI) image generators, such as Dall-E 2, Stable Diffusion, and Make-A-Video, which allow one to simply produce an image or video from text commands are dramatically expanding the way new images can be made from the billions of existing images.57 There has been pushback from other makers who consider this, as this is a drastic disruption to how most people understand photo-based imagery58 and how these programs can fuel bad actors making violent, pornographic, propaganda and misinformation. Other AI programs can edit and/or replace faces, backgrounds, and skies. AI is also evident in how Google’s search engine is now using images and text simultaneously, turning the camera into a keyboard. Additionally, bots can colorize black-and-white images in seconds. Technology continues to alter what we consider to be a photograph and many people are resistant to change as it shifts the familiar to the unknown. Although some refer to AI image-synthesis services as post-photography, over time, AI photo-based imaging will likely be accepted as just another digital image tool. Ongoing technological advances will probably be a matter of coding, software, and the internet, making it possible to do more with less. It is a reminder to scrutinize images and not to fall into the trap of “we see it and we believe it.” Regardless, human creativity remains the driving force that produces engaging and thought-provoking imagery.

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© MARK OSTERMAN. The Sixth Principle, from the series Tsukumogami 2014. 10 × 8 inches. Tintype. Osterman’s series is based on Tsukumogami—a Japanese concept of inanimate household objects coming to life and causing mischief after 100 years. COURTESY   Photo Gallery International, Tokyo.

wonder. After all, it is more difficult to steal an idea than an image. Arguments aside, more artists now experiment with handmade processes, from pinhole to wet-plate photography, than at any time since the late 1980s. There is something deeply humanizing about the evidence of the artist’s hand in a work of art. The nuances and subtleties of our bodies’ interaction with physical matter have helped define corporal human experience over the millennia. This

resurgence of interest in historical processes can be seen in the expanded participation of makers in numerous online groups and in workshops offered by specialists like  Mark Osterman  (b. 1955) and France Scully Osterman (http://collodion.org). Equally important, many commercial galleries and museums still prefer pre-digital prints and they include non-traditional forms of photography in their exhibitions and collections.61

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THE DIGITAL REVOLUTION WILL BE TELEVISED

but instead have selfies made with people on the campaign trail.63 Selfies have become so prevalent, including the use of the selfie stick—an extendable arm onto which a smartphone camera can be mounted in order to take wide-angle photographs beyond the normal range of the arm—that the Russian government released a “Safe Selfie Guide” after a series of injuries and deaths involving their use.64 Although most online content is benign and simply self-serving, there is imagery that reveals the darker side of humanity.65 YouTube hosts Predator drone strikes that resemble video games, reflecting the company’s amoral approach to world affairs and use of algorithms to select content that is offered to its users. Another alarming aspect on social media is the data mining of faces that allows individuals to be remotely identified without their knowledge or permission, which could make public anonymity a thing of the past.66 At the limits of the criminal and barbarous, ISIL uses small digital video cameras to produce an internet theater of death—beheading, burning, drowning, and blowing people up— making unconscionable brutality their brand as a method of intimidating infidels and for recruiting jihadists. Worldwide breaking news photographs rapidly appear across the internet, as in the recent stories of the Minneapolis, MN police murder of George Floyd that gave rise to the Black Lives Matter movement and of Russia’s invasion of Ukraine. On the plus side, digital technology has increased image circulation and social connections, allowing us to see a much larger range of perspectives, thus increasing photographic history.67 In the future, the metaverse imagines the internet becoming a universal, immersive virtual world, enabled by virtual reality (VR) and augmented reality (AR) headsets. As in society at large, photography reflects the rapidly changing social trends brought on by digitalization, one of them being social identity: the sense of self that is based on the group(s) one relates to. This can include: age, ethnicity, gender,

In 1970 Gil Scott-Heron (1949–2011), a selfstyled “bluesologist” and spoken word performer who foreshadowed modern hip-hop and early rap, recorded his sardonic protest poem/song, “The Revolution Will Not Be Televised.” This title became a popular catchphrase among the 1960s Black Power movement, referencing racism, television shows, advertising jingles, plus news and entertainment icons that would not be in a new societal agenda. In effect, Scott-Heron proclaimed that “The revolution will be live.” In an interview, Scott-Heron stated: That song was about your mind. You have to change your mind before you change the way you live and the way you move… The thing that’s going to change people is something that no one will ever be able to capture on film. It will just be something you see and all of a sudden you realize, “I’m on the wrong page.”62

Scott-Heron expressed an outlook that complacency, capitalism, and television culture would not bring about progressive social change. He added that international conglomerates control the media and feed the public its prerecorded viewpoints, denoting that the truth is live (and not live TV), and thus beyond the powers that be. The basic ingredient of all photographs—light—is thus separated from its natural context and transformed into artificial pixels, making even our sun a seemingly digital product. Ironically, it turns out that most countries, groups and individuals, from politicos to rappers to the Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant (ISIL), a.k.a Islamic State of Iraq and Syria (ISIS/Daesh), rely on social media to reach their audience with images. These photographs play an important role as in why politicians no longer kiss babies,

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© LYNSEY ADDARIO. Death of the Perebyinis Family, Kyiv, 2022. Dimension vary. Digital file. Pulitzer-winning photojournalist Lynsey Addario captured the death of the wife and children of Serhiy Perebyinis and a church volunteer due to Russian mortar shelling of civilian targets, leading to worldwide condemnation of Russia’s invasion of Ukraine. Addario defended making the picture stating: “This is a war crime. I think it’s really important that people around the world see these images.”68 COURTESY

Twitter & The New York Times.

national origin, race, religion/religious beliefs, sex, sexual orientation, socioeconomic status, as well as emotional developmental and physical abilities and disabilities. The tempest surrounding this issue revolves around whether or not one must be a member of the group being depicted or should makers be free to pursue any subject that they choose, especially if that group has been traditionally underrepresented? The former states that due to past imposed identities by outsiders only work made by insiders is authentic. The latter argues that

outsiders can see things insiders do not and that one can only make work from one’s point of view as everyone’s outlook is shaped by experience. Iranian-American Artist Shirin Neshat (1957) exemplifies an insider’s view. Neshat utilizes photography, film, and video to examine issues of identity, exile, femininity, religion, and cultural history. She has concentrated on effects of Islamic fundamentalism and militancy as it affects the correlation between the personal and the political. Neshat left Iran to study art in Los Angeles in 1974,

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prior to the Iran Islamic Revolution (1978); she did not return until 1990. At that time, Neshat began to photograph herself wearing the chador (veil). In 1983, Islamic law dictated that women must wear the chador. Her work, which has never been shown in Iran, asserts a feminine presence in a male dominated culture. Since the turn of the twentieth century, Native American photographers, such as Horace Poolaw (see Chapter 12), Zig Jackson (b. 1957, a.k.a Rising Buffalo), and Wendy Red Star (b. 1981, a.k.a Baahinnaachísh), have taken the representation of their people into their own hands. They contest persistent stereotypes of Native Americans with their own overlooked Indigenous stories based on their lived experiences as opposed to those told from the dominant colonialist view point that promoted its ideology of Manifest Destiny. Meryl McMaster (b. 1988) is a Canadian artist with nêhiyaw (Plains Cree), British and Dutch ancestry. Her allegorically based work is predominantly photography based, incorporating the production of props, sculptural garments, and performance, forming a synergy that transports the viewer out of the ordinary and into a space of contemplation and introspection. She explores the self in relation to land, lineage, history, culture, and the more-than-human world. Her work communicates otherness by reclaiming her ancestors’ identity from the stereotypes associated with the indigenous body in the Western photographic tradition. A recent trend with Black makers is Afrofuturism, a term coined by Mark Dery in his 1994 essay, “Black to the Future.” Dery defined it as “speculative fiction that treats African American themes and addresses African American concerns in the context of the twentieth century technoculture—and, more generally, African American signification that appropriates images of technology and a prosthetically enhanced future.” A more expansive, cross-disciplinary definition is offered by author and artist Ytasha Womack:

© SHIRIN NESHAT. I Am Its Secret, from the series: Women of Allah, 1993‒1997. 19½ × 13½ inches. Chromogenic color print. Woman of Allah combines images of women with written words taken from religious texts. Neshat continued scrutinizing cultural taboos through video and video installations. Her work also revolves around the discourse on relations between the East and the West and the contradictions arising between Western and different cultural traditions. COURTESY

Gladstone Gallery, New York and Brussels.

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© MERYL MCMASTER. What Will I Say to the Sky and the Earth II, 2019. 40 x 60 inches. Chromogenic color print. Meryl McMaster relates: “Taken among the coastal ice flows of Lake Erie I am covered in various insect species—members of a poorly understood, often hidden and important class of lifeforms. There are millions of insect species that are unknown to us but play an important role in maintaining ecological equilibrium. To me they represent the fragile, harmonious balance that we are a part of and that we must take care to protect. One of the insects in the image is the Mayfly representing the cyclical nature of time and of life. Its presence within an ecosystem is also seen as a reliable indication of a clean and unpolluted environment. Insect decline is a warning that we are falling into a disharmonious condition.” COURTESY

Stephen Bulger Gallery, Toronto and Pierre-François Ouellette art contemporain, Montreal, Canada.

Afrofuturism is a way of looking at the future and alternate realities through a Black cultural lens. Black cultural lens means the people of the African continent in addition to the Diaspora, the Americas, Europe, etc. It is an artistic aesthetic, but also a kind of method of self-liberation or self-healing. It can be part of critical race theory and in other respects it’s an epistemology as well. It intersects the imagination, technology, Black culture, liberation, and mysticism. An artistic aesthetic, it bridges literature, music, visual arts, film, and dance.

As a mode of self-healing and self-liberation, it’s the use of imagination that is most significant because it helps people to transform their circumstances. Imagining oneself in the future creates agency and it’s significant because historically people of African descent were not always incorporated into many of the storylines about the future.69

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Granville Carroll (b. 1992) investigates Black culture from a cross-disciplinary perspective that includes history, science, and technology to imagine an improved future. Carroll’s Afrofuturist approach explores and expands ideas around racial Blackness to encompass spatial blackness, temporal blackness, and spiritual blackness. His work accentuates the imaginative qualities of the human mind through storytelling and world building to realize innovative

futures and states of being by investigating the metaphysics and the ontology of self and the universe. Carroll’s series In the Finite, Infinitely is inspired by the Transcension Hypothesis, which examines humanity’s next step in evolution and how (potential) advanced civilizations ascend to inner space. Dense matter and particles of energy create black holes or portals for life to transcend and evolve. Carroll tells us: I speculate what that process looks like by interpreting inner space as our psyche. Concepts of creation and destruction, life and death are embodied. I imagine how the universe unfolds and crystalizes into matter. These constructed figures conceptualize the process of evolution through the cyclical nature of time and existence. These images are in constant flux, moving through nonexistence and presence. There is an exchange of silence and energy. This communicates the painful embrace of the universe’s inferno and the healing powers of the imagination.

© GRANVILLE CARROLL. The Weaver, from the series In the Finite, Infinitely, 2022. 30 x 40 inches. Inkjet print. Afrofuturism denotes a cross-disciplinary genre that combines Afrocentrism, fantasy, science fiction, technology, and non-Western mythologies as an intellectual and artistic strategy to reimagine a more ideal future for Black people. In that spirit Granville Carroll asks that viewers look at the inner self instead of the external material world. Carroll’s series, In the Finite, Infinitely, meditates on the philosophical principle of immanence, where there is no separation of object and subject, space and matter. New spaces and landscapes emerge from the void of nothingness, of Blackness. In this place the figure is transformed into a conduit through which the cosmic forces dance, entwine, and reverberate. Space-time collapses and what emerges in its absence are new states of being.

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Ai Weiwei (b. 1957) is a leading activist in the Chinese art world known for his wide-ranging practice that addresses the corruption of the Chinese communist government and its trampling of human rights, especially that of freedom of speech and thought. Weiwei has used the internet (which is severely restricted in China) as a medium for his art that challenges China’s communist sociopolitical system. His best-known protest photographs are Study in Perspective (1995–2003) in which he visits famous sites, such as the Forbidden City, Tiananmen Square, the Eiffel Tower, The Louvre, and MoMA, and gives them the middle finger, telling Chinese institutions and Western curators, institutions, and dealers to fuck off. However, Ai Weiwei is an exception as the vast majority of Chinese artists, as well as other artists who live under authoritarianism, censorship, and surveillance, either abide by the rules or surreptitiously skirt them, making metaphor a critical artist tool.

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© YANG YONGLIANG. From The New World, 2014. 158 × 315 inches. Inkjet print. Yang Yongliang’s (b. 1980) turbulent yet tranquil images combine contemporary mega-cities with traditional Chinese paintings, into works that are both utopian and dystopian. He states: “If I love the city for its familiarity, I hate it even more for the staggering speed at which it grows and engulfs the environment. If I love Chinese art for its depth and inclusiveness, I hate it for its retrogressive attitude. The ancients expressed their sentiments and appreciation of nature through landscape painting. As for me, I use my own landscape to criticize reality as I perceive it.” 70 Yongliang merges nature and man-made sprawl to address issues of constructed reality, societal identity, and the chaos of our changing global world that are not explicitly political, thus utilizing allegory to avoid Chinese government censorship.

Photographically, China has followed divergent trajectories, beginning with photographs made by Western travelers in the nineteenth century to altered portraits of Chairman Mao and the avant-garde photographic performances of the post-Cultural Revolution period, each reflecting China’s fluctuating economic and sociopolitical contexts and the disparate agendas, aesthetics, and technologies, that have defined the practice.71 For electronic imagery to radically affect our consciousness and perception of reality, we need to get past the tidal wave of predictable, yet often entertaining, digital images that now circulate unendingly on the internet. Artists, scientists, and scholars need to go beyond using computers as a convenient means for mimicking visions of the past, and discover the machine’s potential native diction(s). The

distinction needs to be clearly made between what computers can do (process information) and what artists can do (provide sentience).72 The promise of digital technologies, such as the hypothetical metaverse, and a continuously networked culture provides an exciting arena for the creation of something new.73  It not only changes the present and shifts the future, but also alters everything that went before it by giving artists new tools to translate inner perceptions into an outer presence that dispenses with the analog of renditions of space and time. With its emphasis on nonlinearity, intertextuality, and the development of multimedia, digitizing encourages the further hybridization of artistic practice, which in turn actively challenges the traditional divides between mediums and their attendant cultural spaces. Digitization heralds a rethinking

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of ideas surrounding cultural identity, nationhood, race, gender, and our sense of place and position. What digital imaging does not change is photography’s identity as a visual sign whose strength is its ability to represent the space between the constructs of the artificial and the “natural.” While the processes may change, artistic, representational thinking remains a fundamental ingredient in making us who we are; reminding us that pictures matter only to the extent that we matter and there is no critical system better than oneself. Here into the third decade of the twenty-first century, as the first generation of imagemakers to have grown up with computers initiates its course and seeks to discover its own syntax, we are partaking in photography’s conceptual and practical shift from a medium that normally records reality to one that normally transforms it. In both scenarios, photography remains a medium in which we look for ourselves. The photograph continues to act as a manifestation of our society’s vital energies that we can use to ground ourselves, form memories, build identities, and share via social media. For a technology that is known for its literalness, photography has remained surprisingly adaptable in its ability to inspire makers in unexpected ways. Even with nearly two centuries of change, photography continues to reflect our society, engage the human spirit, and find new ways to fire our imaginations. Today the ubiquitous and omnipresent smartphone camera has replaced the once omniscient and all-seeing Eye of Providence. The 1930 prediction of Màrius Gifreda has come true where “the Zeiss lens will outdo the eye of Zeus, who sees everything but from too high.”74  Yet, as long as society values an accurate record of how things appear, the various processes for making photographic images will remain our visual benchmark for representing our world. What will be different is the acknowledgment that all photographic images are constructions—amalgams, clarifications and/or interpretations—made by the photographic auteur, with or without a camera or by a software program

itself. This recognition will provide enriched opportunities for depicting more complex and diverse realities that can encompass both the inner and outer dimensions of a subject while opening an unprecedented set of relationships between the subject and the viewer.

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In 1965 Intel co-founder Gordon Moore observed that the number of transistors per square inch on integrated circuits had doubled every year since their invention. Based on this thought, Moore projected this rate of growth would continue for at least another decade, which roughly happened. However, in 2015 Moore forecast that the rate of progress would reach a saturation point and Moore’s Law would start dying in the next decade or so. Theorists have debated whether digital photography is a “revolution” or not. See, for example, Fred Ritchin, In Our Own Image: The Coming Revolution in Photography (New York: Aperture, 1990); and compare articles by William J. Mitchell (1992) and Ellen Handy (1998) that reinforce and debate this point in Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory: An Historical Anthology (Boston, MA and Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell, 2014), 382–83 and 344–49 respectively. Peter Plagens, “The New Real: Photoids,” Art in America, vol. 97, no. 2 (Feb. 2009), 67. See Adrian Campos, “How Kodak Is Recovering From Bankruptcy,” The Motley Fool, March 24, 2014, www.fool. com/investing/general/2014/03/24/how-kodak-isrecovering-from-bankruptcy.aspx This notion is encapsulated within the idea of photography’s “indexicality.” As with almost every aspect of photography, a large debate exists historically as to whether or not photographs are indeed indexical. For example, in Hershberger, ed.,  Photographic Theory, see the introductions and texts to Charles Sanders Peirce’s “Logic as Semiotic: The Theory of Signs” (circa 1900), 100–4; Rosalind Krauss’s “Notes on the Index: Seventies Art in America’ (1977), 246–50; and Peter Geimer’s “Image as Trace: Speculations about an Undead Paradigm” (2007), 430–35, etc. Most photographic theorists agree that digital photography removes the materiality of the film and its required chemistry from the process and replaces them all with

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binary code. At least one theorist, however, disagrees that code itself is not material. See Johanna Drucker, “Digital Ontologies: The Ideality of Form in/and Code Storage—or—Can Graphesis Challenge Mathesis?” (2001) in Hershberger, ed.,  Photographic Theory, 350–54. Drucker argues repeatedly: “I would strongly assert that the real materiality of code should replace the imagined ideality of code” (p. 351). She adds: “Code is also, always, emphatically material” (p. 353). Drucker also disagrees that digital images can be reproduced endlessly in identical copies. Instead, she argues that “there is loss and gain in any transformation that occurs as a part of the processing of information” (p. 354). A seemingly alluring juncture of the camera and the computer is the proliferation of 24-hour live camera websites where people encourage strangers to view, even ask questions, about the most intimate and generally trivial details of their lives. Oulimata Ba, “BBC Admits Blunder: ‘Gaza Under Attack’ Photos Fabricated,” HNGN, July 9, 2014, www.hngn.com/articles/35653/20140709/bbc-admitsblunder-gaza-under-attack-photos-fabricated.htm. Other widespread instances were also made public regarding the coverage of the 2006 Lebanon War (a.k.a 2006 Israel-Hezbollah War). Julie Mastrine, “How to Spot 16 Types of Media Bias,” AllSides, accessed December 1, 2022, www.allsides.com/ media-bias/how-to-spot-types-of-media-bias Vince Aletti, “An Israeli Photographer and His Panoramic Time Machines,” The Village Voice, September 7, 2004, www.villagevoice.com/2004/09/07/an-israeli-photographer-and-his-panoramic-time-machines/ Frank Van Riper, “Manipulating Truth, Losing Credibility,” www.washingtonpost.com/wp-srv/photo/essays/ van-Riper/030409.htm. For an early survey of these issues, see Fred Ritchin, “Photojournalism in the Age of Computers” (1990), in Hershberger, ed.,  Photographic Theory, 329–33. Vince Aletti, “An Israeli Photographer and His Panoramic Time Machines,”  Village Voice, September 7, 2004. (www.villagevoice.com/art/0437,aletti,56701,13. html). This technique refers back to nineteenth-century pictorialist combination printing. See, for example, Henry Peach Robinson’s controversial advocacy of “Combination Printing” (1869) as reprinted in Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 72–75. See also several criticisms of it by Robinson’s contemporaries and later photographers and theorists, p. 72.

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a person making an assertion or argument claims to know intuitively “from the gut” or because it “feels right” without regard to logic, evidence, facts, or critical inquiry. In 2005, the American Dialect Society named it the Word of the Year. See: Dick Meyer, “The Truth of Truthiness,” CBS News, www.cbsnews.com/news/ the-truth-of-truthiness/ Wikiality, a combination of the words “Wikipedia” and “reality,” was first used on the cable TV show “The Colbert Report” by Stephen Colbert, on Monday, July 31, 2006. It refers to the changing of reality or truth via a Wikipedia-like system, allowing reality to be determined by consensus. See David King, The Commissar Vanishes: The Falsification of Photographs and Art in Stalin’s Russia (New York: Metropolitan Books, 1997). See: False Memory Syndrome Foundation (www.fmsfonline.org). Alexandra Wolfe, “Gregory Crewdson: When Photos Meet the Movies,” The Wall Street Journal, January 8, 2016, ww.wsj.com/articles/gregory-crewdson-when-photosmeet-the-movies-1452277074 Ken Weingart, “Interview with Gregory Crewdson,” August 21, 2016, www.kenweingart.com/blog/ interview-gregory-crewdson/ Annette Grant, “ART; Lights, Camera, Stand Really Still: On the Set With Gregory Crewdson,”  The New York Times, Sunday, May, 30, 2004, Section C, 20–21. http://query nytimes.com/gst/fullpage.html? res=9800E3DB153EF933 A05756C0A9629C8B63&sec =&spon= &pagewanted=1. Andrew E. Hershberger, ed.,  Photographic Theory: An Historical Anthology (New York: Wiley Blackwell, 2014), 68–71. Pesala Bandara, “Creator Economy Grew by 119% in Last Two Years: Report,” Aug. 31, 2022, https:// petapixel.com/2022/08/31/creator-economy-grew-by119-in-last-two-years-report/ “Put Your Pictures on Your PC,”  The Buffalo News, Sunday, July 18, 1999, Wegman’s grocery store supplement, 23. Kashmir Hill, “Instagram Moments and a Surveillance Artist,” The New York Times, September 25, 2022, www.nytimes.com/2022/09/24/technology/surveillance-footage-instagram.html?searchResultPosition=1 Michael Zhang, “Parents Are Naming Babies After Instagram Filters,” Dec. 1, 2015, http://petapixel.

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com/2015/12/01/parents-are -naming-babiesafter-instagram-filters/ Pedro Meyer, http://photoquotations.com/a/463/ Pedro+Meyer Andreas Gursky, https://gagosian.com/artists/andreasgursky/ See Jean Baudrillard,  America, trans. by Chris Turner (London:Verso, 1988). In 2006 Gursky’s 99 Cent II Diptychon (2001) sold for $2.8 million. An extreme and sculptural example of this phenomenon is British artist Damien Hirst’s diamond encrusted skull, For The Love of God, which reportedly sold in 2007 for $100 million to an unnamed investment group. Ada Louise Huxtable, “Living with the Fake, and Liking It,” The New York Times, vol. CXLVI, no. 50,747 (Sunday, March 30, 1997, Section 2), 1, 40. Thomas Demand. London: Serpentine Gallery; Munich: Schirmer/Mosel, 2006. p. 56. Sarah Crompton, “Gained in Translation,”  Telegraph, May 27, 2006. www.telegraph.co.uk/arts/main.jhtml?xml=/arts/2006/05/27/bademand27.xml&sSheet=/ arts/2006/05/29/ixartleft.html. In 2022, 54,400 photos are taken every second, 196 million per hour, 4.7 billion per day, 32.9 billion per week, 143 billion per month, and 1.72 trillion per year. The most common subjects being family members, pets, and selfies. See: Matic Broz, “Number of Photos (2022): Statistics, Facts, & Predictions,” October 21, 2022, https://photutorial.com/photos-statistics/ Nicole Cosgrove, “How Much of the Internet Is Cats? How Much Traffic Do They Drive?,” Aug 8, 2022, https://petkeen.com/how-much-of-internet-is-cats. Penelope Umbrico, “Some notes on my work,” http:// penelopeumbrico.net/Info/Words.html Penelope Umbrico, email with author, April 15, 2011. This is a riff on a social activist Jack Weinberg quote: “We have a saying in the movement that you can’t trust anybody over 30.” Reported by James Benet, “Growing Pains at UC,” San Francisco Chronicle, November 15, 1964, 6. Beyond Bylines Team,“ How to Spot a Fake Photo or Video Online,” March 21, 2022, https://mediablog.prnewswire.com/2022/03/31/how-to-spot-a-fake-photo/ Mishka Henner, https://mishkahenner.com/Putin-sPrison-1, also printed as booklet in 2022. Mishka Henner, Fifty-One US Military Outposts, mishkahenner.com.

41 Mike Winkelmann (a.k.a Beeple), www.christies.com/

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about-us/press-archive/details?PressReleaseID =9948&lid=1 Kyle Chayka, “How Beeple Crashed the Art World,” The New Yorker, March 22, 2021, www. newyorker.com/tech/annals-of-technology/how-beeplecrashed-the-art-world Robert Hirsch,  Transformational Imagemaking: Handmade Photography Since 1960  (New York and London: Focal Press, 2014), 165. Ibid. See Daguerre’s “Description of the Process of Painting and Effects of Light Invented by Daguerre, and Applied by Him to the Pictures of the Diorama” (1839), in Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 31–34. Robert Hirsch,  Transformational Imagemaking: Handmade Photography Since 1960 (New York and London: Focal Press, 2014), 175. In 1950, Minor White called this area of highly productive tension a “spring-tight line.” See Andrew E. Hershberger, “The ‘Spring-tight Line’ in Minor White’s Theory of Sequential Photography.” In Anna-Teresa Tymieniecka, ed., Human Creation: Between Reality and Illusion (Dordrecht: Springer, 2005), 185–215. See A. D. Coleman, “Return of the Suppressed / Pictorialism’s Revenge,” Border Crossings, vol. 27, no. 4 (2008), 72–79. See also the section entitled “Postmodernism and Digital Imaging (Return to Pictorialism?): c. 1990‒c. 2010” in Hershberger, ed., Photographic Theory, 319–39. DiCorcia’s  Heads  generated a debate between those wanting to protect an individual’s right to privacy and free speech supporters. In 2006, one of diCorcia’s subjects sued the artist and his gallery for exhibiting, publishing, and profiting from his likeness without his permission. DiCorcia said these images could not have been made with the subject’s knowledge. Free speech backers maintain that street photography is an established form of artistic expression and that the freedom to photograph in public is protected by the first amendment to the United States Constitution. Eventually, the lawsuit was dismissed. See Rachel A. Wortman, “Street Level: Intersections of Art and the Law – Philip-Lorca diCorcia’s ‘Heads’ Project and Nussenzweig v. diCorcia,” GNOVIS, April 25, 2010, www.gnovisjournal.org/2010/04/25/ street-level-intersections-art-and-law-philip-lorca-dicorcias-heads-project-and-nussenzweig/

chapter twenty : photography becomes digital imaging

50 Nick Wingfield, “Camera Edits Out the Boring

64 Claire Voon, “Russia Releases ‘Safe Selfie’ Guide After

Parts,” The New York Times, August 10, 2015, B4. Email between Hershberger and the author, January 6, 2016. At the end of 2021, over one billion surveillance cameras are estimated to have been installed worldwide, according to industry researcher IHS Markit, with 54 percent of the world’s cameras located in China. See: Paul Bischoff, “Surveillance camera statistics: which cities have the most CCTV cameras?,” July 11, 2022, www.comparitech. com/vpn-privacy/the-worlds-most-surveilled-cities/ See Sophie Curtis, “The British Technology Behind Gravity’s Oscar-winning Visual Effects,” The Daily Telegraph, March 3, 2014, www.telegraph.co.uk/technology/ news/10667457/Gravitys-Oscar-winning-visual-effects.html See Victoria Woollaston, “This is NOT a Real Woman,”  Daily Mail, September 18, 2014, www. dailymail.co.uk/sciencetech/article-2761272/ThisNOT-real-woman-Meet-Beryl-creepy-lifelike-3Dvirtual-model-usingscans-elderly-lady.html#ixzz 3f7ubZiPq Email between Bateman and the author, November 26, 2022. Ibid. Pesala Bandara, “The Best AI Image Generators in 2022,” September 12, 2022, https://petapixel.com/ best-ai-image-generators/ Kevin Roose, “An A.I.-Generated Picture Won an Art Prize. Artists Aren’t Happy,” September 2, 2022, www. nytimes.com/2022/09/02/technology/ai-artificial-intelligence-artists.html?searchResultPosition=1 Robert Hirsch, “Flexible Images: Handmade American Photography, 1969–2002,” exposure, 36:1 (2003), 31. Jerry Uelsmann et al.,  Other Realities  (New York: Bulfinch Press, 2005), 2. For more information see Robert Hirsch,  Transformational Imagemaking: Handmade Photography Since 1960 (New York and London: Focal Press, 2014). See www.youtube.com/watch?feature=fvwp&NR=1&v =kZvWt29OG0s Jeremy W. Peters and Ashley Parker, “Facing a Selfie Election, Presidential Hopefuls Grin and Bear It,”  New York Times, July 4, 2015, www.nytimes. com/2015/07/05/us/politics/facing-a -selfie election-presidential-hopefuls-grin-and-bear-it. html?emc=edit_tnt_20150705&nlid=15316572&tntemail0=y&_r=0

String of Deaths and Injuries,” July 8, 2015, http:// hyperallergic.com/220698/russia-releases-safe-selfieguide-after-string-of-deaths-and-injuries Emma Dibdin, “6 Podcasts About the Dark Side of the Internet,” The New York Times, May 24, 2022, www. nytimes.com/2022/05/24/arts/dark-web-podcasts. html Marvin Heiferman, “Who’s Who? The Changing Nature and Uses of Portraits,” The New York Times, Nov. 16, 2015, http://lens.blogs.nytimes.com/2015/11/16/whoswho-the-changing-nature-and-uses-of-portraits/?emc= edit_tnt_20151117&nlid=15316572&tntemail0=y&_ r=0 See: Phillip Prodger, An Alternative History of Photography (Munich: Prestel, 2022) and Luce Lebart and Marie Robert, A World History of Women Photographers (London: Thames & Hudson, 2022). “This is a war crime: New York Times photojournalist documents war atrocities in Ukraine,” CBS Evening News, March 7, 2022, www.cbsnews.com/news/ukrainewar-photos-lynsey-addario-documents-atrocities/ Ytasha Womack, Pratt Institute Libraries, Feb. 18, 2021, https://libguides.pratt.edu/afrofuturism Quote as translated by Thomas Bartz in “Mirror of Time,” in David Rosenberg,  Yang Yongliang Landscapes (Hong Kong: Thircuir Ltd, 2011), 7. See: Wu Hung, Zooming in Histories of Photography in China (Chicago, IL: The University of Chicago Press, 2016). See: Nicholas Humphrey, Sentience: The Invention of Consciousness (Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press, 2023). Perhaps László Moholy-Nagy said it best when he advocated for art forms that “produce new, as yet unfamiliar relationships.” See the introduction to Moholy-Nagy, “Light: A Medium of Plastic Expression” (1923), in Hershberger, ed.,  Photographic Theory, 130–31, esp. p. 130 (original emphasis). Màrius Gifreda, “The Zeiss Eye and the Eye of Zeus,”  Mirador, 1930. As quoted in Joan Fontcuberta, Pandora’s Camera: Photography After Photography  (London: MACK, 2014), 23.

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© REED B. BONTECOU. Civil War Soldier, Robert Fryer, Private, Co. G., 52nd, NY Volunteers, Wounded at Hatchers Run, March 25, 1865. 5 x 7 inches. Albumen silver print. Reed Brockway Bontecou, MD (1824–1907) was the Surgeon in Charge of the Harewood U.S. Army General Hospital in Washington, DC, who created aesthetic portraiture of wounded soldiers and provided the basis for future photography of medical conditions. Bontecou’s portraits are dignified, intriguing, and poignant. They are a visual record of the casualties of war and of physicians’ ability to help and to heal, revealing the nature and beauty of the human spirit. The seminal work served as a teaching tool for fellow army surgeons and is example of the early professional use of photography in America. COURTESY

Bontecou Albums of Head to Foot Injuries in The Burns Collection, New York, NY.

Select Bibliography Bolton, Richard, ed. Culture Wars: Documents from the Recent Controversies in the Arts. New York: New Press, 1992. Booth, Pat, ed.  Master Photographers: The World’s Great Photographers on Their Art and Technique. New York: Clarkson N. Potter, Inc., 1983. Borcoman, James.  Magicians of Light: Photographs from the Collection of the National Gallery of Canada. Ottawa: National Gallery of Canada, 1993. Brandow, Todd, and William A. Ewing. Edward Steichen: Lives in Photography. New York: W. W. Norton & Company, 2008. Braun, Marta.  Picturing Time: The Work of Etienne-Jules Marey  (1830–1904). Chicago, IL and London: The University of Chicago Press, 1994. Brettell, Richard, with Roy Flukinger, Nancy Keeler and Sydney Kilgore. Paper and Light: The Calotype in France and Great Britain, 1839–1870. Boston, MA: David R. Godine, 1984. Brewster, Sir David. The Stereoscope: Its History, Theory and Construction. Facsimile edition. Hastings-on-Hudson, NY: Morgan & Morgan, 1971. Bright, Deborah, ed.  The Passionate Camera: Photography and Bodies of Desire. London and New York: Routledge, 1998. Browne, Turner, and Elaine Partnow.  Macmillan Biographical Encyclopedia of Photographic Artists and Innovators. London and New York: Macmillan, 1983. Buerger, Janet E.  The Era of the French Calotype. Rochester, NY: International Museum of Photography at George Eastman House, 1982. Buerger, Janet E.  The Last Decade: The Emergence of Art Photography in the 1890s. Rochester, NY: International Museum of Photography at George Eastman House, 1984. Buerger, Janet E. French Daguerreotypes. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 1989. Bunnell, Peter, ed. A Photographic Vision: Pictorial Photography, 1889–1923. Salt Lake City, UT: Peregrine Smith, 1980. Bunnell, Peter C. Degrees of Guidance: Essays on 20th-Century American Photography. Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press, 1993.

Ades, Dawn. Photomontage. New York: Thames and Hudson, 1993. Baldwin, Gordon. Looking at Photographs: A Guide to Technical Terms. Malibu, CA: J. Paul Getty Museum; London: British Museum Press, 1991. Bannon, Anthony.  The Photo-Pictorialists of Buffalo. Buffalo, NY: Media Study, 1981. Barrow, Thomas F., Shelley Armitage, and William E. Tydeman.  Reading into Photography: Selected Essays, 1959–1980. Albuquerque, NM: University of New Mexico Press, 1982. Barthes, Roland.  Camera Lucida: Reflections on Photography. Trans. Richard Howard. New York: Hill & Wang, 1981. Batchen, Geoffrey. Burning with Desire: The Conception of Photography. Cambridge, MA and London: The MIT Press, 1999. Batchen, Geoffrey.  William Henry Fox Talbot. London and New York: Phaidon Press, 2008. Bayer, Jonathan, Ainslie Ellis, Ian Jeffrey, and Peter Turneret. Reading Photographs: Understanding the Aesthetics of Photography. New York: Pantheon Books, 1977. Beaton, Cecil, and Gail Buckland.  The Magic Image: The Genius of Photography from 1839 to the Present Day. London: Pavilion, 1989. Benjamin, Walter. “The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction,” Illuminations. Hannah Arendt, ed. Harry Zohn, transl. London: Pimlico, 1999. Berger, John.  Ways of Seeing. London: British Broadcasting Corporation and Penguin Books, 1972. Berger, John.  About Looking. New York: Vintage International, 1991. The Black Photographers Annual. 4 vols. Brooklyn, NY: Black Photographers Annual, Inc., 1973–1976. Bloom, John.  Photography at Bay: Interviews, Essays and Reviews. Albuquerque, NM: University of New Mexico Press, 1993. Bogdan, Robert, and Todd Weseloh.  Real Photo Postcard Guide: The People’s Photography. Syracuse, NY: Syracuse University Press, 2006. Bolton, Richard, ed.  The Contest of Meaning: Critical Histories of Photography. Cambridge, MA and London: MIT Press, 1989.

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Coleman, A. D. Light Readings: A Photography Critic’s Writings, 1968–1978. Albuquerque, NM: University of New Mexico Press, 1996. Coleman, A. D.  The Digital Evolution: Visual Communication in the Electronic Age. Essays, Lectures and Interviews 1967–1998. Tucson, AZ: Nazraeli Press, 1998. Coleman, A. D. Critical Focus: Photography in the International Image Community. Tucson, AZ: Nazraeli Press, 1999. Collins, Kathleen, ed. Shadow and Substance: Essays on the History of Photography in Honor of Heinz K. Henisch. Bloomfield Hills, MI: The Amorphous Institute Press, 1990. Coote, Jack H. The Illustrated History of Colour Photography. Surbiton, England: Fountain Press, 1993. Crary, Jonathan.  Techniques of the Observer: On Vision and Modernity in the Nineteenth Century. Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press, 1992. Crimp, Douglas, with photographs by Louise Lawler. On the Museum’s Ruins. Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press, 1995. Daniel, Pete, Merry A. Foresta, Maren Stange, and Sally Stein.  Official Images: New Deal Photography Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution, 1987. Darrah, William Culp. Stereo Views: A History of Stereographs in America and Their Collection. Gettysburg, PA: Times and News Publishing Co., 1964. Darrah, William Culp. Cartes de Visite in Nineteenth Century Photography. Gettysburg, PA: Stan Clark Military Books, 1981. Daval, Jean-Luc.  Photography: History of an Art. R. F. M. Dexter, transl. New York: Rizzoli International Publications, Inc., 1982. Davis, Keith F.  An American Century of Photography: From Dry-Plate to Digital. 2nd edition. New York: Harry N. Abrams, Inc., 1999. Davis, Keith F.  The Origins of American Photography: From Daguerrotype to Dry-Plate. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2007. Deribere, Maurice, ed.  Encyclopedia of Colour Photography. London: Fountain Press, 1962. Diamonstein, Barbaralee, and Harry M. Callahan. Visions and Images: American Photographers on Photography. New York: Rizzoli, 1981. Dickerman, Leah. Dada. Washington, D.C.: National Gallery of Art, 2005. Doty, Robert. Photo-Secession: Stieglitz and the Fine-Art Movement in Photography. Foreword by Beaumont Newhall. New York: Dover Publications, Inc., 1978. Druckrey, Timothy, ed.  Electronic Culture: Technology and Visual Representation. New York: Aperture, 1996.

Burgin, Victor, ed. Thinking Photography. London: Macmillan, 1982. Burnham, Linda Frye, and Steven Durland. The Citizen Artist: 20 Years of Art in the Public Arena, Vol. 1. Gardiner, NY: Critical Press, 1998. Burns, Stanley B., M.D., and Elizabeth Burns.  Sleeping Beauty: Memorial Photography in American. Santa Fe, NM: Twelve-Trees Press, 1990. Burns, Stanley B., M.D., and Elizabeth Burns. Sleeping Beauty II: Grief, Bereavement and the Family in Memorial Photography, American & European Traditions. New York: Burns Archive Press, 2002. Bussard, Katherine A., and Lisa Hostetler. Color Rush: American Color Photography from Stieglitz to Sherman. New York: Aperture, 2013. Caffin, Charles H.  Photography as a Fine Art. Facsimile edition. Hastings-on-Hudson, NY: Morgan & Morgan, Inc., 1971. Campany, David, ed.  Art and Photography. New York: Phaidon, 2003. Capa, Cornell, ed.  The Concerned Photographer  New York: Grossman Publishers in cooperation with The International Fund for Concerned Photography, 1968, 1972. A Century of Japanese Photography Intro. by John Dower. New York: Pantheon Books, 1980. Chéroux, Clément, and Pierre Apraxine. The Perfect Medium: Photography and the Occult. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2005. Coar, Valencia Hollins, ed.  A Century of Black Photographers, 1840–1960. Providence: Rhode Island School of Design, 1983. Coe, Brian.  Colour Photography: The First Hundred Years, 1840–1940. London: Ash & Grant, 1978. Coe, Brian, and Paul Gates.  The Snapshot Photograph: The Rise of Popular Photography,  1888–1939. London: Ash & Grant, 1977. Coke, Van Deren. The Painter and the Photographer, from Delacroix to Warhol. Albuquerque, NM: University of New Mexico Press, 1964. Revised and enlarged edition, 1972. Coke, Van Deren, ed.  One Hundred Years of Photographic History: Essays in Honor of Beaumont Newhall. Albuquerque, NM: University of New Mexico Press, 1975. Coke, Van Deren.  Avant-Garde Photography in Germany, 1919–1939. New York: Pantheon Books, 1982. Coke, Van Deren, with Diana C. Du Pont. Photography: A Facet of Modernism. New York: Hudson Hills Press, 1986. Coleman, A. D.  The Grotesque in Photography. NewYork: Summit Books, 1977.

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Flukinger, Roy. The Formative Decades: Photography in Great Britain, 1839–1920. Austin, TX: University of Texas Press, 1985. Flukinger, Roy. The Gernsheim Collection. Austin, TX: University of Texas Press, Austin Harry Ransom Center, 2010. Foresta, Merry A. At First Sight: Photography and the Smithsonian. Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Books, 2003. Foresta, Merry A. and John Wood.  Secrets of the Dark Chamber: The Art of the American Daguerreotype. Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Books, 1995. Foster, Sheila, Manfred Heiting, and Rachel Stuhlman, eds. Imagining Paradise: The Richard and Ronay Menschel Library at The George Eastman House, Rochester. Göttingen, Germany and London: Steidl, 2007. The Founding and Development of Modern Photography in Japan. Tokyo: Tokyo Metropolitan Museum of Photography, 1995. Frampton, Hollis.  Circles of Confusion: Film, Photography, Video: Texts 1968–1980. Rochester, NY: Visual Studies Workshop Press, 1983. Freidus, Marc, James Lingwood, and Rod Slemmons. Typologies: Nine Contemporary Photographers. Newport Beach, CA: Newport Harbor Art Museum, 1991. Freund, Gisèle. Photography and Society. Boston, MA: David R. Godine, 1980. Friedman, Joseph S.  History of Color Photography. Boston, MA: American Photographic, 1944. Reprint. London and New York: Focal Press, 1968. Frizot, Michel, ed. A New History of Photography. English language edition. New York: Könemann, 1998. Fulton, Marianne. Eyes of Time: Photo-journalism in America. Boston, MA: Little, Brown and Company, 1988. Fulton, Marianne, Kathleen A. Erwin, and Bonnie Yochelson. Pictorialism into Modernism: The Clarence H. White School of Photography. New York: Rizzoli, in association with George Eastman House and the Detroit Institute of Arts, 1996. Galassi, Peter. Before Photography: Painting and the Invention of Photography. New York: Museum of Modern Art, 1981. Galassi, Peter. American Photography, 1890–1965. New York: Harry N. Abrams, Inc., Museum of Modern Art, 1995. Garner, Gretchen.  Disappearing Witness: Change in Twentieth-Century American Photography. Baltimore, MD: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 2003. Gernsheim, Helmut, and Alison Gernsheim.  L. J. M. Daguerre: The History of the Diorama and the Daguerreotype. New York: Dover Publications, Inc., 1968.

Dugan, Thomas. Photography Between Covers: Interviews with Photo-Bookmakers. Rochester, NY: Light Impressions, 1979. Durden, Mark. Fifty Key Writers on Photography. London & New York: Routledge, 2013. Earle, Edward W., ed. Points of View: The Stereograph in America—A Cultural History. Rochester, NY: The Visual Studies Workshop Press in collaboration with the Gallery Association of New York State, 1979. Easter, Eric, and Dudley M. Brooks, eds. Songs of My People: African-Americans, A Self-Portrait. Boston, MA: Little, Brown and Company, 1992. Eauclaire, Sally.  The New Color Photography. New York: Abbeville Press, Inc. 1981. Eauclaire, Sally.  American Independents: Eighteen Color Photographers. New York: Abbeville Press, Inc., 1987. Eder, Josef Maria.  History of Photography. Edward Epstean, transl. 4th edition. New York: Columbia University Press, 1945. Reprint. Dover Publications, Inc., 1978. Edgerton, Harold E., and James R. Killian, Jr.  Moments of Vision: The Stroboscopic Revolution in Photography. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1985. Eisinger, Joel. Trace and Transformation: American Criticism of Photography in the Modernist Period. Albuquerque, NM: University of New Mexico Press, 1999. Emerson, Peter Henry.  Naturalistic Photography for Students of the Art. 1889; 3rd edition, 1899. Reprint. New York: Arno Press, 1973. Enyeart, James, ed. Decade by Decade: A Survey of Twentieth Century American Photography from the Collections of the Center for Creative Photography. Boston, MA: Bulfinch Press, 1989. Eskind, Andrew H., and Greg Drake, eds. Index to American Photographic Collections. 3rd edition. New York: G.K. Hall and Co., 1996. Evans, Jessica, ed.  The Camerawork Essays: Context and Meaning in Photography. New York: New York University Press, 1997. Ewing, William A. The Body: Photographs of the Human Form. San Francisco, CA: Chronicle Books, 1994. Experimental Vision: The Evolution of the Photogram Since 1919. Denver: Roberts Rinehart, Denver Art Museum, 1994. Fiedler, Jeannine, ed. Photography at the Bauhaus. Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press, 1990. Fleming, Paula Richardson, and Judith Lynn Luskey.  Grand Endeavors of American Indian Photography. London: L. King, 1996.

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Grundberg, Andy. Crisis of the Real: Writings on Photography, 1974–1989. 2nd edition. New York: Aperture, 1999. Grundberg, Andy, and Kathleen Gauss. Photography and Art: Interactions Since 1946. New York: Cross River Press, 1987. Guimond, James.  American Photography and the American Dream. Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press, 1991. Gustavson, Todd. Camera:  A History of Photography from Daguerreotype to Digital. New York & London: Sterling Publishing, 2009. Hales, Peter Bacon.  Silver Cities: Photographing American Urbanization, 1839–1939. Albuquerque, NM: University of New Mexico Press, 2005. Hambourg, Maria Morris, and Christopher Phillips.  The New Vision: Photography Between the World Wars: The Ford Motor Company Collection at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 1994. Hambourg, Maria Morris, and Pierre Apraxine. The Waking Dream: Photography’s First Century: Selections from the Gilman Paper Company Collection. New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 1993. Handy, Ellen.  Pictorial Effect, Naturalistic Vision: The Photographs and Theories of Henry Peach Robinson and Peter Henry Emerson. Norfolk, VA: Chrysler Museum, 1994. Hannavy, John, ed.  Encyclopedia of Nineteenth-Century Photography. 2 vols. New York: Routledge, 2008. Hannouch, Hanin, ed. Gabriel Lippmann’s Colour Photography: Science, Media, Museums. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2022. Harker, Margaret. The Linked Ring: The Secession Movement in Photography in Britain, 1892–1910. London: Heinemann, 1979. Haworth-Booth, Mark.  The Golden Age of British Photography, 1839–1900. Millerton, NY: Aperture in association with the Philadelphia Museum of Art, 1984. Haworth-Booth, Mark.  Photography: An Independent Art: Photographs from the Victoria and Albert Museum 1839– 1996. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1997. Henisch, Heinz K., and Bridget A. Henisch. The Photographic Experience, 1839–1914: Images and Attitudes. University Park, PA: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1993. Here Is New York: A Democracy of Photographs. New York: Scalo, 2002. Heron, Liz, and Val Williams, eds.  Illuminations: Women Writing on Photography from the 1850s to the Present. Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 1996.

Gernsheim, Helmut, and Alison Gernsheim.  The Origins of Photography. Vol. 1 of The History of Photography. New York: Thames and Hudson, 1982. Gernsheim, Helmut, and Alison Gernsheim. The Rise of Photography, 1850–1880: The Age of Collodion. Vol. 2 of The History of Photography. New York: Thames and Hudson, 1988. Gernsheim, Helmut, and Alison Gernsheim.  The History of Photography: From the Camera Obscura to the Beginning of the Modern Era. 3rd edition. London: Thames and Hudson, 1988. Glassman, Elizabeth, and Marilyn F. Symmes.  Cliché-verre: Hand-Drawn, Light-Printed: A Survey of the Medium from 1839 to the Present. Detroit: The Detroit Institute of Arts, 1980. Goldberg, Vicki. The Power of Photography: How Photographs Changed Our Lives. London and NewYork: Abbeville Press, 1993. Goldberg, Vicki.  Photography in Print: Writings from 1816 to the Present. New York: Simon and Schuster, 1981. Reprint. Albuquerque, NM: University of New Mexico Press, 2000. Goldschmidt, Lucien, and Weston J. Naef. The Truthful Lens: A Survey of the Photographically Illustrated Book, 1844– 1914. New York: The Grolier Club, 1980. Goranin, Näkki.  American Photobooth. New York and London: W.W. Norton, 2008. Gover, C. Jane.  The Positive Image: Women Photographers in Turn-of-the-Century America. Albany: The State University of New York Press, 1988. Green, Jonathan, ed.  Camera Work: A Critical Anthology. Millerton, NY: Aperture, 1973. Green, Jonathan, ed. The Snapshot. Millerton, NY: Aperture, 1974. Green, Jonathan.  American Photography:A Critical History, 1945 to the Present. New York: Harry N. Abrams, Inc., 1984. Greenough, Sarah.  Alfred Stieglitz: The Key Set Volume One 1886–1922. Washington, D.C.: National Gallery of Art, 2002. Greenough, Sarah, Joel Snyder, David Travis, and Colin Westerbeck.  On the Art of Fixing a Shadow: One Hundred Fifty Years of Photography. Washington, D.C.: National Gallery of Art; Chicago, IL: The Art Institute of Chicago, 1989. Greenough, Sarah, and Diane Waggoner. The Art of the American Snapshot: 1888–1978. Washington, D.C.: National Gallery of Art, 2007.

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Johnson, Brooks, ed.  Photography Speaks: 66 Photographers on Their Art. New York: Aperture; Norfolk, VA: The Chrysler Museum, 1989. Johnson, Brooks, ed. Photography Speaks II: 70 Photographers on Their Art. New York: Aperture; Norfolk, VA: The Chrysler Museum of Art, 1995. Jones, John.  Wonders of Stereoscope. NewYork: Alfred A. Knopf, 1976. Jussim, Estelle.  The Eternal Moment: Essays on the Photographic Image. New York: Aperture, 1989. Jussim, Estelle, and Elizabeth Lindquist-Cock.  Landscape as Photograph. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1985. Kelsey, Robin. Photography and the Art of Chance. Cambridge, MA and London: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 2015. Kemp, Martin. The Science of Art: Optical Themes in Western Art from Brunelleschi to Seurat. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1992. Kozloff, Max. The Privileged Eye: Essays on Photography. Albuquerque, NM: University of New Mexico Press, 1987. Krauss, Rosalind, Dawn Ades, and Jane Livingston. L’Amour Fou: Photography & Surrealism. London and New York: Abbeville, Press, 2002. Lebart, Luce and Marie Robert. A World History of Women Photographers. London: Thames & Hudson, 2022.. Lemagny, Jean-Claude, and André Rouillé, eds. A History of Photography: Social and Cultural Perspectives. English edition Janet Lloyd, transl. Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press, 1987. Lenman, Robin, ed. The Oxford Companion to the Photograph. New York: Oxford University Press, 2005. Lippard, Lucy R., ed.  Partial Recall. New York: The New Press, 1992. Livingston, Jane.  The New York School: Photographs, 1936– 1963. New York: Stewart, Tabori & Chang, 1992. Lowry, Bates and Isabel Barrett. The Silver Canvas: Daguerreotype Masterpieces from the J. Paul Getty Museum. London: Thames & Hudson, 1998. Lyons, Claire, John K. Papadoulos, Lindsey S. Stewart, and Andrew Szegedy-Maszak.  Antiquity and Photography: Early Views of Ancient Mediterranean Sites. Los Angeles, CA: J. Paul Getty Museum, 2005. Lyons, Nathan, ed. Photographers on Photography: A Critical Anthology. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall, 1966. Malcolm, Janet. Diana & Nikon: Essays on the Aesthetic of Photography. Boston, MA: David R. Godine, 1980. Marbot, Bernard. After Daguerre: Masterworks of French Photography  (1848–1900)  from the Bibliothèque Nationale.

Hershberger, Andrew E., ed.  Photographic Theory: An Historical Anthology. Malden, MA and Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell, 2014. Heyman, Therese Thau, ed. Seeing Straight: The f.64 Revolution in Photography. Oakland, CA: Oakland Museum, 1992. Hill, Paul, and Thomas Cooper, eds. Dialogue with Photography. Stockport, England: Dewi Lewis Publishing, 2005. Hirsch, Robert.  Transformational Imagemaking: Handmade Photography Since 1960. New York and London: Focal Press, 2014. Hirsch, Robert. Light and Lens: Thinking About Photography in the Digital Age. 4th edition. New York and London: Focal Press, 2022. Homer, William Innes. Alfred Stieglitz and the American AvantGarde. Boston, MA: New York Graphic Society, 1977. Homer, William Innes. Alfred Stieglitz and the Photo-Secession. Boston, MA: Little, Brown and Company, 1983. Hoy, Anne H. Fabrications: Staged, Altered and Appropriated Photographs. New York: Abbeville Press, 1987. Hurley, F. Jack. Portrait of a Decade: Roy Stryker and the Development of Documentary Photography in the Thirties. Baton Rouge, LA: Louisiana State University Press, 1972. In/sight: African Photographers, 1940 to the Present. Introduction by Clare Bell. New York: Guggenheim Museum, 1996. Italy: One HundredYears of Photography. Texts by Cesare Colombo and Susan Sontag. Florence: Alinari, 1988. Ivins, William Jr.  Prints and Visual Communication. Cambridge, MA and London: The MIT Press, 1978. Jammes, André, and Eugenia Parry Janis.  The Art of French Calotype. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1983. Jammes, André, and Robert Sobieszek. French Primitive Photography. Millerton, NY: Aperture, 1969. Janus, Eugenia Parry, Martin Friedman, Max Kozloff, and Adam D. Weinberg.  Vanishing Presence. Minneapolis: Walker Art Center, 1989. Jay, Bill. Cyanide and Spirits: An Inside-Out View of Early Photography. Munich: Nazraeli Press, 1991. Jay, Bill. Occam’s Razor: An Outside-In View of Contemporary Photography. Tucson, AZ: Nazraeli Press, 2000. Jay, Bill, and Margaret Moore, eds. Bernard Shaw on Photography. Salt Lake City, UT: Peregrine Smith Books, 1989. Jeffrey, Ian. Photography: A Concise History. New York: Oxford University Press, 2003. Jenkins, Reese V.  Images and Enterprise: Technology and the American Photographic Industry 1839–1925. Baltimore, MD: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1975.

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Newhall, Beaumont. Latent Image: The Discovery of Photography. Garden City, NY: Anchor Books, 1967. Newhall, Beaumont. The Daguerreotype in America. 3rd revised edition. New York: Dover Publications, Inc., 1976. Newhall, Beaumont, ed. Photography, Essays & Images: Illustrated Readings in the History of Photography. New York: Museum of Modern Art, 1980. Newhall, Beaumont. The History of Photography: From 1839 to the Present Day. 5th edition. New York: Museum of Modern Art, 1982. Newhall, Beaumont. Focus: Memoirs of a Life in Photography. Boston, MA: Little, Brown and Company, 1993. New Topographics: Photographs of a Man-altered Landscape. Intro. by William Jenkins. Rochester, NY: International Museum of Photography at George Eastman House, 1975. Ostroff, Eugene, ed.  Pioneers of Photography: Their Achievements in Science and Technology. Springfield, VA: The Society for Imaging Science and Technology, 1987. Palmquist, Peter E., ed.  A Bibliography of Writings by and about Women in Photography, 1850–1990. 2nd edition. Arcata, CA: Peter E. Palmquist, 1994. Palmquist, Peter E., ed. Camera Fiends & Kodak Girls II: 60 Selections by and about Women in Photography, 1855– 1965. New York: Midmarch Arts Press, 1995. Palmquist, Peter E., and Thomas R. Kailbourn. Pioneer Photographers of the Far West: A Biographical Dictionary, 1840–1865. Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2000. Palmquist, Peter E., and Thomas R. Kailbourn. Pioneer Photographers from the Mississippi to the Continental Divide: A Biographical Dictionary, 1839–1865. Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2005. Pantheon Photo Library. Early Color Photography. New York: Pantheon Books, 1986. Parr, Martin, and Gerry Badger.  The Photobook: A History. Vols. I, II, & III. New York: Phaidon, 2004, 2006, 2014. Parr, Martin, et al. The Chinese Photobook: From the 1900s to the Present. New York: Aperture, 2015. Pelizzari, Maria Antonella.  Traces of India: Photography, Architecture, and the Politics of Representation, 1850– 1900. Montreal and New Haven, CT: Canadian Centre for Architecture and Yale Center for British Art, 2003. Penichon, Sylvie. Twentieth-Century Colour Photographs: The Complete Guide to Processes, Identification and Preservation. London and New York: Thames & Hudson, 2013. Peres, Michael R.  Focal Encyclopedia of Photography. 4th edition. New York: Focal Press, 2007.

NewYork: Metropolitan Museum of Art; Paris: BergerLevrault, 1980. Margolis, Marianne Fulton, ed.  Camera Work: A Pictorial Guide. New York: Dover Publications, 1978. Marien, Mary Warner.  Photography: A Cultural History. 4th edition. Upper Saddle River, NJ: Pearson Education, 2015. Mathews, Oliver.  The Album of Carte-de-visite and Cabinet Portrait Photographs 1854–1914. London: Reedminster Publications, Ltd., 1974. McCauley, Elizabeth Anne. Likenesses: Portrait Photography in Europe, 1850–1870. Albuquerque, NM: Art Museum, University of New Mexico, 1980. McLuhan, Marshall. Understanding Media: The Extensions of Man. London: Routledge, 2001. Mitchell, William J. The Reconfigured Eye: Visual Truth in the Post-Photographic Era. Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press, 1994. Moholy, Lucia.  100 Years of Photography: 1839–1939. Harmondsworth, Middlesex, England: Penguin Books, Ltd. 1939. Mora, Gilles. Photo Speak: A Guide to the Ideas, Movements, and Techniques of Photography, 1839 to the Present. New York: Abbeville Press, 1998. Morgan, Hal, and Andreas Brown.  Prairie Fires and Paper Moons: The American Photographic Postcard, 1900–1920. Boston, MA: David R. Godine, 1981. Morgan, Willard D., ed. The Encyclopedia of Photography. 20 vols. Little Falls, NJ: Singer Communications, 1977–78. Moutoussamy-Ashe, Jeanne. Viewfinders: Black Women Photographers. New York: Dodd, Mead, 1986. Reprint. New York: Writers and Readers Publishing, 1993. Mrazkova, Daniela.  Masters of Photography: A Thematic History. New York: Exeter Books, 1987. Naef, Weston. Fifty Pioneers of Modern Photography: The Collection of Alfred Stieglitz. New York: The Metropolitan Museum of Art, 1978. Naef, Weston.  The J. Paul Getty Museum Handbook of the Photographs Collection. Malibu, CA: The J. Paul Getty Museum, 1995. Naef, Weston J., and James N. Wood. Era of Exploration: The Rise of Landscape Photography in the American West, 1860–1885. Buffalo, NY: Albright-Knox Art Gallery; New York: The Metropolitan Museum of Art, 1975. Nakamori, Yasufumi, and Allison Pappas.  For a New World to Come, Experiments in Japanese Art and Photography, 1968–1979. Houston, TX: The Museum of Fine Arts; New Haven, CT and London: Yale University Press, 2015.

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Roberts, Pam. A Century of Colour Photography: From the Auto chrome to the Digital Age. London: André Deutsch, 2007. Rohrbach, John.  Color:American Photography Transformed. Austin, TX: University of Texas Press, 2013. Rosenblum, Naomi. A History of Women Photographers. 2nd edition. New York: Abbeville Press, 2000. Rosenblum, Naomi.  A World History of Photography. 4th edition. New York: Abbeville Press, 2007. Rudisill, Richard. Mirror Image: The Influence of the Daguerreotype on American Society. Albuquerque, NM: University of New Mexico Press, 1971. Rule, Amy, and Nancy Solomon, eds.  Original Sources: Art and Archives at the Center for Creative Photography. 2002. Sandweiss, M. A., ed. Photography in 19th-Century America. Fort Worth, TX: Amon Carter Museum; New York: Harry N. Abrams, 1991. Schaaf, Larry J. Out of the Shadows: Herschel, Talbot and the Invention of Photography. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1992. Schaaf, Larry J.  The Photographic Art of William Henry Fox Talbot. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2000. Scharf, Aaron. Pioneers of Photography. New York: Harry N. Abrams, Inc., 1975. Scharf, Aaron.  Art and Photography. New York: Penguin Books, 1986. Schwarz, Heinrich, and William Parker. Art and Photography: Forerunners and Influences. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 1987. Siegel, Steffen, ed. First Exposure: Writings from the Beginning of Photography. Los Angeles, CA: Getty Publications, 2017 Sipley, Louis Walton.  A Half Century of Color. New York: Macmillan, 1951. Sobieszek, Robert A.  Masterpieces of Photography from the George Eastman House Collections. New York: Abbeville Press, 1985. Sobieszek, Robert A.  The Art of Persuasion: A History of Advertising Photography. New York: Harry N. Abrams, Inc., 1988. Solomon-Godeau, Abigail. Photography at the Dock: Essays on Photographic History, Institutions, and Practices. Minneapolis, MN: University of Minnesota Press, 1991. Sontag, Susan. On Photography. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1973. Spira, S.F., and Eaton S. Lothrop Jr.  The History of Photography as Seen through the Spira Collection. New York: Aperture, 2001. Squiers, Carol, ed. The Critical Image: Essays on Contemporary Photography. Seattle, WA: Bay Press, 1990.

Peress, Gilles, et al. Here Is New York: A Democracy of Photographs. New York: Scalo, 2002. Petro, Patrice, ed. Fugitive Images: From Photography to Video. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1995. Petruck, Peninah, ed. The Camera Viewed: Writings on Twentieth Century Photography, 2 vols. New York: E. P. Dutton, 1979. Phillips, Christopher, ed.  Photography in the Modern Era: European Documents and Critical Writings, 1913–1940. New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art; Aperture, 1989. Photography from 1839 to Today: George Eastman House, Rochester, NY. New York: Taschen, 1999. Pictorialism in California: Photographs 1900–1940. Malibu, CA: J. Paul Getty Museum; San Marino, CA: Henry E. Huntington Library and Art Gallery, 1994. Points of Entry. A series of three books: A Nation of Strangers. Essays by Vicki Goldberg. San Diego, CA: Museum of Photographic Arts, 1995. Reframing America. Essay by Andrei Codrescu. Tucson, AZ: Center for Creative Photography, University of Arizona, 1995. Tracing Cultures. Essays by Rebecca Solnit and Ronald Takai. San Francisco, CA: Friends of Photography, 1995. Pollack, Peter. The Picture History of Photography from the Earliest Beginnings to the Present Day. New York: Harry N. Abrams, Inc., 1969. Prodger, Phillip. An Alternative History of Photography. Munich and London: Prestel, 2022. Pultz, John. The Body and the Lens: Photography 1839 to the Present. New York: Harry N. Abrams, Inc., 1995. Pultz, John, and Catherine B. Scallen. Cubism and American Photography, 1910–1930. Williamstown, MA: Sterling and Francine Clark Art Institute, 1981. Rabb, Jane M., ed.  Literature & Photography: Interactions 1840–1990. Albuquerque, NM: University of New Mexico Press, 1995. Rinhart, Floyd and Marion.  The American Daguerreotype. Athens: University of Georgia Press, 1981. Rinhart, Floyd and Marion Rinhart, and Robert W. Wagner.  The American Tintype. Columbus, OH: Ohio State University Press, 1999. Ritchin, Fred. In Our Own Image: The Coming Revolution in Photography. 2nd edition. New York: Aperture, 1999. Roberts, Pam. “Alfred Stieglitz, 291 Gallery and Camera Work” in  Camera Work: The Complete Illustrations 1903–1917. Cologne and New York: Taschen, 1997. Roberts, Pam.  PhotoHistorica: Landmarks in Photography. New York: Artisan, 2000.

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Trachtenberg, Alan, and Lawrence W. Levine.  Documenting America, 1935–1943. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1988. Travis, David, and Elizabeth Siegel, eds.  Taken by Design: Photographs from the Institute of Design, 1937–1971. Chicago, IL:The Art Institute of Chicago, in association with The University of Chicago Press, 2002. Tucker, Anne, ed.  The Woman’s Eye. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1973. Tucker, Anne, Dana Friis-Hansen, Takeba Joe, and Kaneko Ryūichi.  The History of Japanese Photography. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2003. Tucker, Anne Wilkes, Bodo Von Dewitz, Liam Kennedy, Will Michels, Hilary Roberts, John Stauffer, Jeff Hunt, and Natalie Zeldin. War/Photography, Images of Armed Conflict and Its Aftermath. The Museum of Fine Arts, Houston. New Haven, CT and London: Yale University Press, 2012. 20th Century Photography: Museum Ludwig Cologne. Introduction by Marc Scheps. Cologne: Taschen, 1996. Wade, John. The Camera from the 11th Century to the Present Day. Leicester, England: Jessop, 1990. Walch, Peter, ed. Perspectives on Photography: Essays in Honor of Beaumont Newhall. Albuquerque, NM: University of New Mexico Press, 1986. Waldsmith, John S.  Stereo Views: An Illustrated History and Price Guide. Iola, WI: Gazelle, 2002. Wall, E. J.  The History of Three-Color Photography. Boston, MA: American Photographic Publishing Company, 1925. Reprint. London and New York: Focal Press, 1970. Wallis, Brian, ed. Blasted Allegories: An Anthology of Writings by Contemporary Artists. New York: The New Museum of Contemporary Art; Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press, 1987. Wallis, Brian, ed. Art After Modernism: Rethinking Representation. NewYork: The New Museum of Contemporary Art, 1995. Weaver, Mike.  The Art of Photography, 1839–1989. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1989. Weaver, Mike, ed.  British Photography in the 19th Century: The Fine Art Tradition. Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press, 1989. Welling, William.  Photography in America: The Formative Years, 1839–1900. New York: Thomas Y. Crowell Company, 1978. Reprint. Albuquerque, NM: University of New Mexico Press, 1987. Wells, Liz, ed.  Photography: A Critical Introduction. 3rd edition. New York: Routledge, 2004.

Stenger, Edward Epstean. The History of Photography: Its Relation to Civilization and Practice. Easton, PA: Mack Print Company, 1939. Stott, William. Documentary Expression and Thirties America. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 1986. Strong Hearts: Native American Visions and Voices. New York: Aperture, 1995. Stryker, Roy, and Nancy Wood. In This Proud Land: America 1935–1943 as Seen in FSA Photographs. Boston, MA: New York Graphic Society, 1975. Sullivan, Constance, ed.  Women Photographers. New York: Harry N. Abrams, Inc., 1990. Szarkowski, John. Mirrors and Windows: American Photography Since 1960. New York: Museum of Modern Art, 1978. Szarkowski, John. Photography Until Now. NewYork: Museum of Modern Art, 1989. Szarkowski, John.  Looking at Photographs: 100 Pictures from the Collection of the Museum of Modern Art. New York: Museum of Modern Art, 1999. Szarkowski, John. The Photographer’s Eye. New York: Museum of Modern Art, 2007. Taft, Robert.  Photography and the American Scene: A Social History, 1839–1889. Reprint. New York: Dover Publications, Inc., 1964. Tagg, John. The Burden of Representation: Essays on Photographies and Histories. Amherst, MA: University of Massachusetts Press, 1988. Talbot, William Henry Fox, with introduction by Beaumont Newhall.  The Pencil of Nature  (facsimile edition). New York: Da Capo Press, 1969. Tausk, Peter. Photography in the 20th Century. London: Focal Press, 1980. Taylor, Roger.  Impressed by Light: British Photographs from Paper Negatives, 1840–1860. New York: The Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2007. Teitelbaum, Matthew, ed.  Montage and Modern Life, 1919– 1942. Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press; Boston, MA: The Institute of Contemporary Art, 1992. Thomas, Lew, ed. Photography and Language. San Francisco, CA: NFS Press, 1979. Townsend, Chris.  Vile Bodies: Photography and the Crisis of Looking. Munich and New York: Prestel-Verlag, 1998. Trachtenberg, Alan, ed.  Classic Essays on Photography. New Haven, CT: Leete’s Island Books, 1980. Trachtenberg, Alan. Reading American Photographs: Images as History, Matthew Brady to Walker Evans. New York: Hill and Wang, 1989.

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Westerbeck, Colin, and Joel Meyerowitz. Bystander: A History of Street Photography. Boston, MA: Little, Brown and Company, 2001. Williams, Val.  Women Photographers: The Other Observers, 1900 to the Present. London: Virago Press Ltd., 1986. Willis-Thomas, Deborah.  An Illustrated Bio-Bibliography of Black Photographers, 1940–1988. New York: Garland, 1985. Willis, Deborah, ed. Picturing Us: African American Identity in Photography. New York: The New Press, 1994. Willis, Deborah. Reflections in Black: A History of Black Photographers 1840 to Present. New York: W.W. Norton, 2000. Witkin, Joel-Peter, ed. Harms Way: Lust & Madness, Murder & Mayhem. Santa Fe, NM: Twin Palms Publishers, 1994. Witkin, Lee D., and Barbara London.  The Photograph Collector’s Guide. Boston, MA: New York Graphic Society, 1979. Wood, John, ed. The Daguerreotype: A Sesquicentennial Celebration. Iowa City, IA: University of Iowa Press, 1989. Wood, John.  The Art of the Autochrome: The Birth of Color Photography. Iowa City, IA: University of Iowa Press, 1993. Yapp, Nick, and Amanda Hopkinson. 150 Years of Photo Journalism. Cologne: Könneman, 1995.

Camera Comics No. 3. 1944 From 1944 to 1946, the U.S. Camera Publishing Company produced a comic book series titled Camera Comics to get youngsters interested in photography. Covers featured pilots pointing huge cameras out of planes and Nazis getting whacked with cameras. In addition to action packed World War II stories that involved characters, such as Linda Lens, Kid Click, and Art Fenton, each issue included brief biographies of famous photographers, how-to articles technical articles, and product ads. The disjointed juxtaposition between the graphics and photographic history can be comical in itself. COURTESY

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http://digitalcomicmuseum.com/index.php?cid=659

© ROBERT HIRSCH. Rear Window, from the series Cinema History, 2022. Variable dimensions. Inkjet print. Rear Window (1954), directed by Alfred Hitchcock, visualizes a story of a news photographer confined to a wheelchair after an accident, who spends his time observing his neighbors through a telephoto lens and binoculars and becomes convinced that a murder has taken place. The Cinema History series pursues a dynamic interpretation of a still frame within a moving image. This conveys a state of flux that expresses the essence of a subject. Hirsch did this by introducing camera movement during his screen exposure that further exaggerates the off-kilter perspective with post-capture software. The project reminds us that once an image becomes digital it is no longer fixed and can take on a life of its own. This asserts that everything that one thinks is solid is actually fleeting and ephemeral and that anything one creates that transcends time and space is just as real as the reality it was based. This also applies to history, which is just as malleable as any other material.

Index Page numbers in italics indicate figures A

Abbott, Berenice 355–6, 356, 539 Abramović, Marina 566 abrasive-tone monoprints 301 Abstract Expressionism 442, 451, 454, 462, 481, 482 abstract techniques 460–5, 461, 463, 464 Abu Ghraib Prison (unknown photographer) 432 academic art theory 60 Acconci, Vito 566 Accused Gestapo Informer, Dessau, Germany (Cartier-Bresson) 374, 374 Adam & Eve (Frank Eugene) 248 Adam-Salomon, Samuel 98–9, 99 Adams, Ansel 184, 297–9, 362, 442, 443, 447, 462, 468–9, 503, 519, 534, 577 Adams, Edward (Eddie) T. 424–5, 424 Adamson, Robert 63–5, 64, 140, 239 Adams, Robert 489, 534, 536–7, 536 Addario, Lynsey 659 additive screen process 214–18, 215–18 additive theory 211–14, 212–14 Adobe Photoshop 634, 640 advertising photography 399–413, 399–413 aerial photographs 98 Aesthetic Club Movement 230 aesthetic of finding 109 aesthetic formalism 255 African Americans: daguerreotype operators 44–6, 45, 46; photographs of 340–1, 361–2; racism and photography 617–18, 617 African-American Teamsters (unknown photographer) 133 African Diaries (Beard) 547 Afrofuturism 660, 661, 662 afterimage 11–12 Afterimage magazine 516 Aftermath (Meyerowitz) 543 Agassiz, Louis, Dr. 53–4 Agee, James 350–1, 380 Age of Reason 110 Agfacolor Neu film 220 Alamogordo Blues (Nagatani, Tracey) 585 Albers, Josef 280, 479–80 Alberti, Leon Battista 3 Albright Art Gallery 249–50

albumen process: cabinet pictures 95–6; hyalotypes 107; overview 81–2, 82; paper 73–4, 75; silver prints 68 Alger, Horatio 333 Alhazen (Ibn Al-Haitham) 2 Alice and the Fairies (Wright, Griffiths) 154 Alice Liddell as The Beggar Maid (Carroll) 144 alienation and photography 454–9, 455, 457, 459 Alinari, Giuseppe 170–1, 170 Alinari, Leopoldo 170–1, 170 Alinari, Romualdo 171 Alloway, Lawrence 462, 479 Alphonse Karr from Galerie Contemporaine (Adam-Salomon) 99 Altered Landscapes: The Photographs of John Pfahl (Pfahl) 543 The Amateur Photographer 204 Amateur Photographer 231 Amateur Photographic Association 141 ambrotype 84–6, 85, 86 The American Amateur Photographer 238 The American Child 330 American Civil War 119, 122–31, 124–5, 127–8, 130–1 American culture of light: experimentally modern 307–8, 307; Film und Foto exhibition 301–5, 302, 303, 304, 306; form as essence 295–7, 296; introduction 289–92, 290, 291, 292; modernistic photography 297–301, 298–300; New Objectivity 300–5, 302, 303, 304, 306; New Vision 308–12, 309–12; Steichen, commercial 294; Stieglitz’s “equivalents” 292–4, 293, 294; surrealistic themes 316–22, 317–21; time, space, and form 312–16, 313–15 American Economic Life (Tugwell) 346 American exceptionalism 181 American existentialism 528 American Idol (television show) 635 American Philosophical Society 51 American Process 37 American Prospects (Sternfeld) 544 American Revolution 77 The Americans (Frank) 454–6 American Society of Magazine Photographers (ASMP) 398 The American Weekly 466

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American West 181–9, 181, 183, 185, 186, 188 In the American West (Avedon) 408, 409 Amputations (White) 447 Analytic Cubism 257, 258 anastigmat lenses 202 Anderson, James 170 Anders, William 621 Angle of North Taku Fort at which the French Entered, Tianjin, China (Beato) 121 Animal Locomotion (Muybridge) 195–6, 197 Annan, J. Craig 109 Annan, Thomas 179–80, 179 Anonymous Sculpture (Becher) 569 Anschütz, Ottomar 199–200, 200 Anscochrome film 382 Anthony, Edward 37, 44, 48, 132 anthotype 19 “antiphotographic” pictorial strategies 266 antique images 391 The Antiquities of Cambodia (Thomson) 177–8 Antonioni, Michelangelo 505 Aperture magazine 447–8, 516 Apple Advancing (Frampton, Faller) 589 aquatint process 31 Arago, François 15–16, 21, 30 Araki, Nobuyoshi 553 Arbeiter Illustrierte Zeitung (magazine) 392–4 Arbus, Allan 490 Arbus, Diane 358, 378, 382, 490–3, 491, 524, 620 Archer, Frederick Scott 81, 107–9 archetypes 576–80, 576, 578, 579, 580 architectural photography 66, 73–7, 74, 75, 76 Archives of the Planet (Kahn) 216 Are You Rea series (Heinecken) 505 Argand Oil Lamp 9 Aristotle (Greek philosopher) 1–2 Arizona Landscape (Sommer) 445 Arp, Jean 268 Arrival of the royal procession at the customhouse quay, The Illustrated London News, vol. 15, no. 397, November 11 (Smyth) 390 Ars Magna, Lucis et Umbrae (Kircher) 2 The Art Critic (Hausmann) 275 artificial intelligence (AI) 656 “artistic” photographs 66

index

artists’ books 506–8, 507, 546–7, 546, 547 The Art of Living a Hundred Years (Nadar) 207 Art Nouveau movement 230 Ascent of Mont Blanc (Bisson) 171 Association of American Painters and Sculptors 259 astronomical photography 51 Atget, Eugène 77, 180, 305, 306, 355 Atkins, Anna 20–1, 20, 652 Atomic Age photography: abstract techniques 460–5, 461, 463, 464; alienation and photography 454–9, 455, 457, 459; disposable income 470–2; The Family of Man exhibit 452–3, 453; instant photography 461–2; new techniques in 441–3; photographic education 449–52, 450, 451; subjective-documentary approach 465–70, 465, 467–9; surrealistic metaphor 443–8, 444, 445, 446, 448 Atomic Bomb Explosion (Edgerton) 385 Attie, Shimon 618 Audubon, John James 42 Auschwitz Sonderkommandos 420 Autel Chases (Altar to the Chases high school) (Boltanski) 574 Autochrome 213, 216–18, 248 automated photography 358–9, 358, 359 Auto-Polaroids (Samaras) 527 Avedon, Richard 362, 406, 407–9, 408, 427 B

Babbitt, Platt D. 50, 50 Baby Bluebird, Bird Pageant, Jackson, MS (Welty) 342 The Bachelor (television show) 635 The Bachelor’s Dream (Rejlander) 146 Bacon, Francis 347, 570 Bacon, Robert 2 Bailey, David 412, 413 Bailey, John B. 45 Baker, Josephine 247 Baldessari, John 564, 564 Baldus, Édouard 73, 74–6, 75, 175 The Ballad of Sexual Dependency (Goldin) 604 Balla, Gaicomo 199, 262 Ball, James Presley, Sr. 45–6 Ball’s Splendid Mammoth Pictorial Tour of the United States Comprising Views of the African Slave Trade (Ball) 45 Baltz, Lewis 489, 534, 535–6, 535 Balzac, Honoré de 34 Bank of Nile at Thebes (Greene) 166 Barbaro, Daniele 4 Barbra Streisand (Golden) 608 Barker, Robert 10

Barnack, Oskar 369 Barnard, George N. 114, 117, 128–9 Barnardo, Thomas John 156 Barnes, Catharine Weed 232, 243 Barnes, Thomas John 156, 158, 158 Barrow, Thomas 499, 516, 518–20, 519 Barthes, Roland 477, 555, 564, 575, 580 bas-relief effect 242, 320 Bateman, Edward 654–6, 655 Bates, Joseph L. 108 Baudelaire, Charles 96, 137, 147, 207, 226, 443, 526 Baudrillard, Jean 572, 577, 641 Bauhaus school 279–80 Bayard, Hippolyte 21–2, 22, 73 Bayer, Herbert 280, 301, 308–9, 308 Bay/Sky, Provincetown (Meyerowitz) 542 Beard, Peter H. 547–8, 547 Beard, Richard 36, 107 Beato, Felice 120–2, 121 Beaton, Cecil Walter Hardy 404 The Beauties of England (Silvy) 98 Becher, Bernd and Hiller 271, 534, 568–70, 601, 641–2 Beeple claims 647; see also Winkelmann, Mike Bellmer, Hans 316–17, 316, 402, 503 Bellocq, E.J. 338–9, 338 Bell, William 129–30, 131, 188 Benjamin, Walter 370, 391, 479, 555, 642 Berger, John 555 Berger, Paul 574–5 Bergson, Henri 199, 295, 590 Berliner Illustrierte Zeitung (magazine) 392, 394 Berman, Wallace 463–5, 464 bertillonage 343 between-the-lens shutter 202 Beverly Boulevard and La Brea Avenue, Los Angeles, CA (Shore) 541 Bey, Dawoud 614 Biggerstaff, William 46 “Bijou” of Montmartre (Brassaï) 373 Billboard Creative, The 635 binocular vision 106 Bischof, Werner 422 Bisson, Auguste-Rosalie 171–2, 171 Bisson Frères 171–2 Bisson, Louis-Auguste 171–2, 171 Black, Alexander 208 Black Eye (Mann) 606 Blake, William 496, 506 Blanquart-Evrard, Louis-Désiré 67–73, 83, 165, 166 Blasted Allegories (Baldessari) 564 bleached images 85 Blessed Art Thou among Women (Käsebier) 244 Blind (Strand) 267 Blondeau, Barbara 522 Bloom, Suzanne 575 Blossfeldt, Karl 303–4, 304, 478

680

blue bosom complaint 37 Blumberg, Donald 498 Blumenbachia Hieronymi (Blossfeldt) 304 Blvd. du Temple, Plate No. 4 (Bateman) 655 Bogardus, Abraham 39, 88 Boltanski, Christian 573, 574 Bontecou, Reed Brockway 668 Book Number 15, Janson’s History of Art, Revised (Smith) 546 In The Border Projection (Wodiczko) 618 Borges, Jorge Luis 486, 496 Born Free and Equal (Adams) 442 Boughton, Alice 224, 243, 245, 245 Bourke-White, Margaret 289, 291–2, 291, 394–5, 418 Bourne, Samuel 176–7, 176 Bouton, Jean 14 Bowditch, Henry Ingersoll 42 Boy with Parrot (Claudet) 106 Boy in Yellow (Cohen) 545 Brady, Mathew B. 42, 44, 90, 122, 123, 126 Bragaglia, Anton Giulio 262, 262 Bragaglia, Arturo 262 Brancusi, Constantin 258 The Branded Hand of Captain Jonathan Walker (Southworth, Hawes) 42 Brandt, Bill 271, 375–7, 376 Brandt, Matthew 628–9, 628 Braque, Georges 256, 258 Brassaï (Gyula Halász) 372, 373 Bravo, Manuel Álvarez 377–8, 377 Breton, André 273, 317, 358–9, 377–8, 442 Brewster, David 11, 63, 107, 155 Brigman, Anne W. 243, 243 British Algae: Cyanotype Impressions (Atkins) 20 British Journal of Photography 201 Brodovitch, Alexey 378, 405, 406, 407, 454 bromoil process 229 Brooklyn Gang, Coney Island (Davidson) 494 Brooks, Ellen 582 Brotherhood of the Linked Ring 230–1, 233–5, 239–42, 244, 245, 248 Brower, David 470 Brown, Critic Milton 406 The Brown Tiger of Peace, AIZ (exile edition) no. 22, May 30 (Vanek) 394 Bruguière, Francis Joseph 314–16, 315, 460 Brunelleschi, Filippo 3 The Bubble (Brigman) 243 Buchenwald, Germany: Dead Prisoners (Miller) 419 Bullock, John G. 238, 239 Bullock, Wynn 452–3, 453 Bundle in Face (Rainer) 567 Bunnell, Peter C. 517, 526 Buñuel, Luis 358

index

Burden, Chris 566 Burden of Dreams (Taylor) 651 Burgin, Victor 575 A Burial Party, Cold Harbor, VA (Reekie) 126, 127 Burke-White, Margaret 271 Burkholder, Dan 649–50 Burroughs, William S. 481–2, 481 Burrows, Henry Frank Leslie “Larry” 423–4, 423 Burson, Nancy 634, 634 Burtynsky, Edward 625, 625 Bushaw, Gordon 537, 538 The Bust of Patroclus (Talbot) 62 Butterfly Collector (unknown photographer) 43 Butterfly and Flowers (Saville-Kent) 213 Byrnes, Thomas 343–4, 343 C

Cage, John 480 Cahun, Claude 288, 316–17, 317 Cairo, Sinai, Jerusalem and the Pyramids of Egypt (Frith) 169 Calhoun, John 42 Calla (Cunningham) 299 Callahan, Harry 309, 449–51, 450, 451, 466, 499, 502, 573 calotype: across Atlantic 61–7, 61, 62, 64, 65; and architecture 73–7; demise of 77, 81; in France 67–73, 67, 70, 71, 72; introduction 18, 59–60; Missions héliographiques 73–7, 74, 75, 76; question of focus 66–7; realism in 140, 167; Romantic aesthetic 60 Calotype Club 118 The Camera Club in London 205 The Camera Club of New York 205, 238 Camera lamina sicca disease 205 Camera in London (Brandt) 377 camera lucida 6, 17, 29 Camera Lucida (Barthes) 555 Camera Lucida in use Drawing Small Figurine (artist unknown) 7 Camera Notes 238, 239, 240 camera obscura (dark chamber) 3, 5, 8 Camera Obscura: View of the Brooklyn Bridge in Bedroom (Morell) 594 The Camera and the Pencil (Root) 84 cameras: Diana camera 516; disk camera 196; folding hand camera 199–200; hand-held camera 202–3; handheld camera 367–8; Kodak Instamatic camera 202–3, 462, 509; miniature cameras 369–71; pinhole camera 375–6; prototypes 3–4; scanner as camera 650–2, 651; SX camera 527–8, 591 camera vision 5–6 Camera Work 232, 239–40, 244, 245, 250

Cameron, Julia Margaret 148, 149–53, 150, 152, 239 Campbell, J.F. 104 Campbell’s Soup Cans (Warhol) 482 Camp, Maxime du 69 candid photographs 266, 353, 370, 372, 404 Capa, Cornell 421–2, 503 Capa, Robert 372, 416–18, 416, 417, 421–2 Caponigro, Paul 470 Capote, Truman 536 Caravaggio 5 Cardano, Girolamo 4 Cariou, Patrick 576–7 Carpentier, Jules 208 Carroll, Granville 632, 662, 662 Carroll, Lewis 144, 144, 147 Car and Streetlamp (Metzker) 501 carte de visite (visiting card) 84, 86, 88–95, 89–94, 132, 143, 591 Cartier-Bresson, Henri 368–9, 372, 374, 418, 457, 516, 532 Carvalho, Solomon Nunes 48 Carving a Sphinx (Delamotte) 65 Casebere, James 580–1 Cassady, Neal 454 Caulked Construction-Teepees (Barrow) 519 celebrity portraits 409–13, 410, 412 celluloid 200 Center for Advanced Visual Studies at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology 310 Center for Exploratory and Perceptual Art (CEPA) 554 Cézanne, Paul 256, 258, 588 changing realities: alternative visions 515; artists’ books 546–7, 546, 547; critical writing 554–6; emergence of color photography 539–45, 540–5; expanding markets 554; Japanese photobooks 550–3, 550–3; personal documentary mode 524–32, 524–7, 529–32; post-structuralism 534–7, 535, 536; reconfiguring information 548–9, 548, 549; Rephotographic Survey Project 537–9, 538; Rochester Institute of Technology 515–16; snapshots 532–3, 533; straight photography 521–3, 522 changing scales 102, 103–6, 103, 105 Chaplin, Charlie 482 Charlesworth, Sarah 580–1 Charlotte Moorman wearing Nam June Paik’s TV Bra for Living Sculpture (Moore) 562 Charred Corpse of Jesse Washington Suspended from Utility Pole, Robinson, TX 261 chemical action of light 7–8, 7 Chevreul, Michel-Eugène 207

681

Chiarenza, Carl 505, 580–1, 581 Chicago College of Photography 225 Chicago Landscape #151 from Chicago Landscape Group (Sinsabaugh) 485 Chicago’s Institute of Design 484 Chief Gall, Hunkpapa Sioux 93 Child in Forest (Bullock) 452, 453 children in photographs 607–12, 608, 609, 610 Chilton, James R. 31 Chimney Sweeps Walking (Négre) 71 Chinese photography 620, 620 Chomsky, Noam 478–9 Chrétien, Gilles Louis 6 Christo (Christo Vladimirov Javacheff ) 622 chromogenic development 220 chromolithographs 187 Chronophotograph (Marey, Frémont) 192, 198 chronophotographs 199 Cinematographe 208 citizen journalists 635 Civil Rights movement 429, 495–6 Civil War Soldier, Robert Fryer, Private, Co. G, 52nd, NY Volunteers, Wounded at Hatchers Run, March 25, 1865 (Bontecou) 668 Clarence H. White School of Photography 248, 289 Clark, Kenneth 3 Clark, Larry 529–30, 530, 604 Class in American History ( Johnston) 337, 338 Clatworthy, Fred Payne 217 Claudet, Antoine François Jean 36, 44, 59, 106, 107, 109 Clay, Henry 42 Cliché Vary (Heinecken) 504, 505 cliché-verre process 63, 460–1 Clock, Doomsday 441 The Clock (Marclay) 588 Close, Chuck 508, 509–10 Close Crop Tales (Baldessari) 564 Clouds Rest, Valley of the Yosemite (Muybridge) 188 Coburn, Alvin Langdon 242, 242, 264–6, 264, 265 Cocaine True Cocaine Blue (Richards) 531 Cohen, Mark 545, 546–7 Cohn, Ronald H. 399 Coke, Van Deren 444, 525 Colbert, Stephen 637 Cold War 362, 375, 441, 447, 471, 487 collage: aesthetic expectations 548; digital layers 652; double exposure 449; dynamic interaction of motion 590; examples of 143, 257–8, 363, 462, 522, 546, 651; family snapshots 614; material for surrealistic theater 375; modernistic period 274–8, 274–7; new frontiers in 498, 516,

index

528; photographic reality in 521; portraits 412; pre-invented existence 605, 605; relief collage series 505; toning with 517 Collier, John 346 Collier’s magazine 466 collodion process: overview 54; retouching and enlargements 103; standardization of 171; see also wet plate process color photography 210, 210, 539–45, 540–5 Coltrane, John 489 combination prints 139, 145, 147–50 Coming Home from the Marshes (Emerson) 227 commercial photography 294, 399–400, 412 Committee on Fading 68 Commune of Paris 98 Composition (Drtikol) 314 Composition No. 12 (Henri) 309, 309 Conan Doyle, Arthur 155 conceptual art 561–5, 562, 563, 564, 575 Coney Island Bather, NY (Model) 361, 379 Conservation Laboratory at the Rochester Institute of Technology 23 Construction Detail, East Wall, Xerox, 1821 Dyer Road, Santa Ana, from the series New Industrial Parks (Baltz) 535 Constructivism 273, 280, 583, 652 Cook, George S. 132 Copernicus, Nicolaus 2 Coplans, John 603–4 Corbis Images 433 Cornelius, Robert 35 Coronet magazine 466 Corpron, Carlotta 311 Cosindas, Marie 540 Cottingham, Robert 509 Cottingley Fairies photograph 155 Countess Virginia Oldoini Verasis di Castiglione (Pierson) 102 Courbet, Gustave 139 Cover to Cover (Snow) 547 Cowin, Eileen 610 Crackling Lake WY 3 (Brandt) 628 Craig’s Daguerreian Registry 40 Crane, Barbara 522, 524 The Crawlers (Thomson) 178 Crewdson, Gregory 637–8, 638 Crimean War 118, 120 Crimp, Douglas 480, 556, 575, 608, 609 Criss-Crossed Conveyors, Ford Plant (Sheeler) 282 critical writing 554–6 Cros, Charles 215 crystalotype process 51 Crystal Palace Exhibition (1851) 65, 65 Cubism: Bolshevik Revolution and 279;

female body in 313; impact of 400, 405, 583, 652; introduction to 239; modernistic period 256–60, 257, 258, 259, 280; placidity of 265; precisionism and 280–3, 281, 282; principles of 266 The Cueva de las Manos Cave Painting (unknown artists) 1 Cultural Revolution 620 cultural space, landscape as 621–9, 621–8 Culture and Imperialism (Said) 180 culture of light see American culture of light Cumming, Robert 570–1, 571 Cundall, Joseph 173–4 Cunningham, Imogen 297, 299, 299 current events photography 117 Curtis, Edward Sheriff 334–5, 336 Cutting, James Ambrose 86 Cuvelier, Adalbert 63 cyanotype 19, 20, 21 D Dada/dadaists 268–9, 270, 273, 319, 506, 561, 652 Daguerrean Miniature Gallery 42 The Daguerreian Journal 51 Daguerre, Louis Jacques Mandé 10–11, 14–17, 16, 18, 19, 21, 24, 30, 31, 35, 40, 59, 84, 88, 107, 171, 650 daguerreotypes: African American operators 44–6, 45, 46; art of portrait 43–4, 43; Daguerreotype Saloons 39; defined 30–1, 30, 31; early portrait making 34–6, 35; early practitioners 32–4, 32, 33; early war coverage 118; impact of 59; initial success 389; introduction 29, 29; landscape portraits 48–50, 49, 50; portrait studio, expansion 41; portrait studios as and picture factories 37–42, 38; post-mortem portraits 47, 47; rural practice of 39; science and 51–4, 52; stereoscopic views 107–108; technical improvements 36–7; in United States 31–2 Dahl-Wolfe, Louise 406, 406 Daily Universal Register 9 Dalí, Salvador 358 Dammann, Carl Victor 334 Darkytown Rebellion (Walker) 617–18, 617 Darwin, Charles 147, 156, 199, 335 Dater, Judy 533 Daumier, Honoré 138–9, 138 Davidson, Bruce 487, 493–5, 494, 554 da Vinci, Leonardo 2, 3 Davis, C. W. 206 Davis, Miles 489 Davison, George 229–30, 229, 231, 240 Davy, Humphry 8

682

Dawson, Robert 624–5, 624, 628 Dayal, Lálá Deen 177 Day, Fred Holland 140, 240–1, 241, 244 Dead Troops Talk (Wall) 586, 586 Deal, Joe 534 The Death of Naturalistic Photography (Emerson) 228 Death of the Perebyinis Family (Addario) 659 Death of Prince Albert (Mayall) 90 Debord, Guy 565 Decadent Movement 240–2, 241, 242 DeCarava, Roy 466–8, 468 de Chirico, Giorgio 496 decisive moment concept 516, 525, 528, 646, 652 deconstructing myths 576–80, 576, 578, 579, 580 deconstruction concept 556 Delamotte, Philip Henry 65, 172–4, 173 Delaroche, Paul 43, 69, 118 della Porta, Giovanni Battista 3–4 de Loutherbourg, Philippe Jacques 9 Demachy Robert 232–3, 233 Demand, Thomas 642–3, 643 de Meyer, Adolph 247–8, 247, 400 Demithan, Maitha 650, 651 Dennett, Terry 610 de Philipsthal, Paul 9 Derrida, Jacques 534, 571–2 Dery, Mark 660 de Saussure, Ferdinand 477, 478 Deschin, Jacob 452 De Scientia Perspectivae and De multiplicatione specierum (Bacon) 2 Desert Fire #001 (Misrach) 623 De Subtilitate (Cardano) 4 Diamond, Hugh Welch 155–6, 156 Diana camera 516, 548 Dibbets, Jan 588 Dickens, Charles 46 Dickson, William Kennedy-Laurie 209 diCorcia, Philip-Lorca 586, 652 Diderot, Denis 5 digital imaging: death of photographer 652–6, 653, 655; evolving role of photographer 654–6, 655; internet 643–50; introduction 633–9, 634, 636, 638; lost and found 656–7, 657; memories and 638–9; mirror without memory 639–52, 640–1, 643, 645–6, 648–51; scanner as camera 650–2, 651; smartphones 643–50, 643, 645, 646, 648, 649, 650; social contract with truth 635–8, 636, 638; social media 643–50, 643, 645, 646, 648, 649, 650; televised images 658–64, 659, 660, 661, 662, 663; time-based art 643–50, 643, 645, 646, 648, 649, 650 Digitized Mary (Walker) 507 Dingus, Rick 537

index

diorama theater 10–11 direct optical and chemical imaging code 484–6, 485, 486 direct representation in photography 344 Disaster Paintings (Warhol) 482 Disdéri, André-Adolphe-Eugène 88–90, 89, 100, 139 Disfarmer, Mike 356–8, 358, 639 disk camera 196 disposable income 470 Disruption (Hill) 63 distilling form 264–7, 264, 265, 267 Diver (Rodchenko) 278 The Divided Self (Laing) 482 Dixon, Anne 20, 20 documentary photography: overview 355–6, 356; personal documentary mode 524–32, 524–7, 529–32; subjective-documentary approach 465–70, 465, 467–9; women photographers 425–7, 426–7 Dodgson, Charles Lutwidge see Carroll, Lewis Doisneau, Robert 465–6 Do-It-Yourself (DIY) movement 506 The Doll (Bellmer) 316, 316 Domon, Ken 552 Don Quixote in His Study (Price) 141 Dorchester Days (Richards) 530 Dorothy Waring (VanDerZee) 341 Dostoyevsky, Fyodor 411 Double Stark Portrait in Swirl (Starn, Starn) 593 Douglass, Frederick 39, 44, 92 Dow, Arthur Wesley 289 Draper, John 31–2, 104 Dresden Albumenizing Company 84 Drew, Richard 388, 430–1, 431 Driffield, Vero Charles 202, 228 Drtikol, Frantisek 313–14, 314 Drummond Light 9 Dubreuil, Pierre 236, 236 Du Camp, Maxime 69, 165, 165 Duchamp, Marcel 199, 259, 259, 268–9, 321, 321–2, 446, 480, 490, 520, 565, 567 Duchenne de Boulogne, GuillaumeBenjamin 156, 157 du Hauron, Louis Ducos 214–15, 219, 372 Dumas, Alexandre 96 Duplicate copies of Maxwell and Sutton’s original Tartan Ribbon of 1861 (Spencer) 212 D’Urban, Natal Zulu (U-tambosa) (Dammann) 334 Dürer, Albrecht 3 Dust Bowl Descent (Ganzel) 537 Dust Storm, Cimarron County, OK (Rothstein) 351 dye transfer process 468 dynamism in photography 380–1

E

Eakins, Thomas 195–7, 195 early portrait making 34–6, 35 early war coverage 117–22, 119, 121 Earth Art/Work movement 621 Earth Elegies (ParkeHarrison and ParkeHarrison) 627 Easterly, T.M. 51 Eastlake, Charles 66, 138 Eastlake, Elizabeth 138 Eastman, George 203, 208, 462, 639 Eastman Kodak Co. 203, 633 Edgerton, Harold E. 193, 384–5, 385–7 Edison Kinetoscopic Record of Fred Ott’s Sneeze (Dickson) 209 Edison’s Kinetoscope (Wills’s Cigarette Card) 208–9 Edison, Thomas Alva 208, 209 Edith, Ruth and Mae, Danville, VA (Gowin) 532 effects: bas-relief effect 242, 320; creation of 75; daguerreotype and 59; halation effect 250–1; Impressionistic strategies for 229; Sabattier effect 37, 319, 516; through retouching 98 Eggleston, William 489, 540–1, 540 Eggs Encircled (Corpron) 311 Egypte, Nubie, Palestine et Syrie (Du Camp) 69 Egyptian Court Crystal Palace (Delamotte) 173 eidophusikon 9 An Eight-Sided Tale (Baldessari) 564 Eight Young Roosters (Sommer) 446 18 Happenings in 6 Parts (Kaprow) 515 Einstein, Albert 256, 269, 271, 280, 372, 478, 588 Eisenstaedt, Alfred 396 Ektachrome 220 Eleanor, Chicago (Callahan) 450 electrotachyscope 200 Elevage de Poussière from The Green Box (Man Ray) 321 Eliot, T. S. 483 Ella Watson, United States Government Charwoman, Washington, D.C (Parks) 354 Emerging Man (Parks) 467 Emerson, Peter Henry 107, 226–8, 227, 229, 231 Emerson, Ralph Waldo 35–6, 153, 242 emotionally minimal formalism 519 Empire State Building 333 Emptying the Fridge (Mandel) 589 Encyclopédie (Diderot) 5 In The End of Art Theory (Burgin) 575 The End of the Game (Beard) 547 enlargements and collodion process 104 Enlightenment era 5, 110 Enmeshed Man (Savage) 518 Entin, Alan D. 614

683

Equal Right Amendment 515 Equisetum sylvaticum (Atkins, Dixon) 20 Equivalents, Stieglitz 292–4, 293, 294 Equivalent (Stieglitz) 292–4, 293, 294 Ernst, Max 274, 274, 442, 445, 503, 539 Errara, Alberto 420 Erwitt, Elliott 533 Estes, Richard 509 An Ethiopian Chief (Day) 241 ethnic consciousness 340–2, 340, 341, 342 ethnological approaches to social photography 334–9, 334–9 Etienne Gourmelen (Hiller) 402, 402 Euclid 12 Evans, Bill 489 Evans, Frederick H. 234–5, 235 Evans, Walker 326, 346, 348–51, 349, 350, 353, 380, 454, 494, 528, 539, 549, 577 Everydays: The First 5000 Days (Winkelmann) 648 everyperson views 115 Exchange Club 140 Excursions Daguerriennes: Vues et Monuments les plus remarquables du globe 31, 50 existentialism 478, 528 experimentally modern 307–8, 307 Explosion of Green Chairs (Meyer) 640 The Expression of Emotion in Man and Animals (Darwin) 156 F

fabrication 580–8, 581–7 Fading Away (Robinson) 148–9, 148 Faller, Marion 588, 589 Falling Man (Drew) 388, 431 The Falling Soldier (Capa) 417 The Family of Man exhibition 452–3, 453 In Farewell, Promised Land: Waking from the California Dream (Dawson) 624 Farm Security Administration (FSA) project 346–7, 350, 352–4, 358 fashion photography 399–413, 399–413 Faulkner, William 443 Faurer, Louis 380–2, 381 fauxtography (fake news) 433 Federal-Aid Highway Act (1956) 470 Federal Arts Project (FAP) 355–6, 355, 356 feminist expression 607–12, 608, 609, 610 Fenton, Roger 69, 118–20, 119, 137 ferrotype 86–8, 87 Fête du Trône/Boutique de foire (Atget) 306 Fichter, Robert W. 444, 499, 506, 516–18, 517 Field Where General Reynolds Fell (O’Sullivan) 127

index

5th Avenue, New York, NY (Faurer) 381 Filmer, Lady Mary Georgina 143–4, 143 filmic images 561 Film and Photo League 360–1, 360 Film und Foto exhibition 301–5, 302, 303, 304, 306 Fire in the Ames Mills, Oswego, NY (Barnard) 114, 117 Firing an Antique (1878) Revolver (Edgerton) 384 Fischer, Rudolf 220 Fitch, Steve 548 Fitzgibbon, John H. 180 fixing the image 19–20 Fizeau, Armand Hippolyte Louis 36, 389 Flack, Audrey 509 flash photography beginnings 193 Flaubert, Gustave 96 Flick, Robbert 522, 523 Flooded Salt Air Pavilion, Great Salt Lake, Utah (Dawson) 624 Florence, Antoine Hércules Romuald 22–3, 23 Floyd Burroughs, Hale County, Alabama (Evans) 326, 350 Floyd, George 433–4, 434 Fluxus collaborative network 561 focal length 5, 108 focal plane shutter 199 folding hand camera 199–200 Forest of Fontainebleau (Le Gray) 69 form: distilling form 264–7, 264, 265, 267; as essence 295–7, 296; informe 321; uniformitarianism 182 formalism 255, 339, 519, 525, 536, 543, 561 Forth, Robert 478 Fortier, Edmond 257–8, 257 Fortune magazine 350 fotoform group 452 Fotogramme (Moholy-Nagy) 272 fotoplastik 307, 319 Foucault, Michel 344, 534 Fountain (Duchamp) 269 Fowx, Egbert Guy 123, 129 Foxglove (Fingerhut) (Renger-Patzsch) 303 Fox, Margaret 153 Frampton, Hollis 561, 562, 588, 589 Frankenthaler, Helen 485 Frank Leslie’s Illustrated Newspaper 42 Frank, Robert 381–2, 406, 454–8, 455, 466, 470, 480, 487, 493, 495, 528, 532, 542 Fratelli Alinari studio 171 Frazier, Darnella 434 Frederick Douglass (Miller) 39 Frederick, Sergeant Ivan 432 Freed, Leonard 422 Fremont, Charles 192, 198 Frémont, John Charles 48 Friedlander, Lee 338, 487, 489–90, 490, 493

Friedrich, Ernst 392–3 Friese-Greene, William 208 Frith, Francis 168–9, 168 frottage technique 274 Fruit Bowl (Lehmann) 218 Frydlender, Barry 636–7, 636 Fulhame, Elizabeth 8 full-frame aesthetic 375 fusil photographique 199 Fuss, Adam 594 Futurism 199, 239, 262, 262, 279, 506 G

Galbraith, John Kenneth 487 Gallery of Illustrious Americans (Brady) 42 Galloping Horse, Motion Study—Sallie Gardner (Muybridge) 194 Gano Grain Elevator, Western Kansas (Morris) 383 Ganzel, Bill 537 Gardner, Alexander 122–6, 124, 125, 133 Gardner’s Photographic Sketch Book of the War (Gardner) 124–5, 127, 128, 128 Garrison, William Lloyd 44 Garver, Thomas H. 487 gaslight paper 202 Gasometer, Wuppertal, Germany (Becher and Becher) 569 Gateway, Faluknuma Palace (Dayal) 177 Gauguin, Paul 450 Gauss, Kathy McCarthy 520 Gay, William 46 Gee, Helen 466 gelatin emulsion 200 gender matters 607–12, 608, 609, 610 George Eastman House (GEH) 487, 509, 515, 516 George Eastman Museum (GEM) 64, 441–2, 505, 515 German art nouveau 313 German Girl (Höch) 276, 277 Gernsheim, Helmut 13, 23 Gersheim, Alison 23 Getty Images 433, 646 Giacomelli, Mario 458–60, 459 Giant (Smith) 460 Gibson, James F. 123 Gibson, Ralph 528–9, 529 Gifreda, Màrius 664 GIFs (graphic interchange format) 647 Gilbreth, Frank B. and Lillian M. 254, 263–4, 263, 588 gilding technique 36 Gill, Charles 498 Gill, Michael 603 Gilpin, Laura 289 Ginsberg, Allen 454, 466 Giphantie (Tiphaigne de La Roche) 7 Girault de Prangey, Joseph-Philibert 48–9, 49

684

Gitlin, Todd 471 Goddard, John Frederick 36 God (Schamberg) 281 Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von 9, 11, 491 Gohlke, Frank 534, 535 Going, Ralph 509 Golden, Judith 506, 607–8, 608 Goldin, Nan 317, 604–5, 604 Gold Mine of Serra Pelada (Salgado) 428 gold-toned albumin papers 84 Goode, William H. 51 Gordon, Douglas 643 Gordon (Whipped Peter) (Mcpherson) 91 Gorky, Arshile 442 Gothic horror 9–10 Gottlieb, Adolph 442 Gouraud, François 40 Gowin, Emmet 532–3, 532 Granddaughter and Grandfather, Warsaw (Vishniac) 357 Grandville, J.J. 43–4 Grant, Ulysses S. 46 The Great British Bake Off (television show) 635 Great Depression 110, 248, 309, 346–55, 348–54, 362, 409 The Great Pyramid and the Sphinx (Frith) 168 Great Salt Lake Angles, Great Salt Lake, Utah (Pfahl) 543 The Great Wave, Sète (Le Gray) 71 Greene, John Beasly 69, 165, 166 Greenfield, Lauren 611–12, 612 Green, Jonathan 532 Green River Buttes, Green River WY (O’Sullivan) 538 Greyfriars Cemetery 64 Griffiths, Frances 154, 155 Griffiths, Philip Jones 423 Gris, Juan 256 Gropius, Walter 280 Grossman, Mendel 418 Grossman, Sidney 361–2, 361 Grosz, George 393 Grotte (Demand) 643 Grotto in an Iceberg with the Terra Nova in the Background (Ponting) 162, 172 Group f/64 photographers 297, 347 guerrilla art 505 Guerrilla Girls collective 610, 611 gum-bichromate process 229 gum printing 204, 232–3, 246, 506 Gun 2, near the Bowery NY (Klein) 457 Gunshot Fracture of the Shaft of the Right Femur, United with Great Shortening and Deformity (Bell) 131 Gunsmith and Police Department, 6 Centre Market Place (Abbott) 356 Gunthert, André 12 Gurdjieff, George Ivanovitch 447 Gurney, Jeremiah 36 Gursky, Andreas 570, 641–2, 641

index

Gutenberg, Johannes 4 Gysin, Brion 481–2, 481 H

Haacke, Hans 575 Haas, Ernst 397, 539 Haeberle, Ronald L. 498 Hahn, Betty 499, 516 halation effect 250–1 halftone process 389–90 Hallman, Gary 548 Hallway New York (DeCarava) 468 Halsman, Philippe 410, 411 Hamilton, Richard 363, 462–4 Hampton Album ( Johnston) 338 Handbook of Photography (Vogel) 202 hand-coloring daguerreotypes 35 hand-held camera 202–3 handheld camera 367–8 handmade 6, 31, 173, 301, 506, 548, 625, 649, 657 Hands Resting on Tool (Modotti) 339 Hand and X-Ray Machine (Muray) 403 Hanson, David T. 623 Harbor scene (Sutton) 67 Hard Times (Rejlander) 147 Harlem (Leiter) 366, 382 Harlem Renaissance 341 Harper’s Bazaar 378, 404, 405, 406, 407, 413 Harper’s Weekly 123, 132 Harrison, Gabriel 34 Harrisson, Tom 359 Hartley, Marsden 258 Hartman, Jay J. 94–6, 94 Hartman, Sadakichi 239 A Harvest of Death (O’Sullivan) 127–8, 128, 133 Hausmann, Raoul 274–5, 275 Havell, John and William 63 Hawarden, Lady Clementina 142–3, 142 Hawes, Josiah Johnson 40–2, 41, 42 Hawthorne, Nathaniel 33 Hayden, Ferdinand V. 184–6 Haynes, Frank Jay 188 Head of the Dancer ( Jacobi) 312 Head with Plane, IL (Thorne-Thomsen) 548 Heartfield, John 275, 301, 393, 393, 394, 503 Hegel, Georg Wilhelm Friedrich 9 Heinecken, Robert 498, 499, 503–5, 504, 506, 516, 517 héliographes 14 heliogravures 14 The Hell Hole, New Hope Church, GA (Barnard) 129 Henderson, William L. 132 Henneberg, Hugo 234 Henneman, Nicolaas 61 Henner, Mishka 646, 646

Henri, Florence 301, 309, 309, 378 The Heretic (Mortensen) 300 Herron, Gaylord Oscar 530 Herschel, John 15, 19–20, 21, 31, 37, 59, 72, 150, 151, 208, 210, 367 Hidden Persuaders (Packard) 478 high vs. low art 260–1, 261 Hill, David Octavius 63–5, 64, 83, 140, 239 Hill, Ed 575 Hiller, Lejaren à 402, 402 Hillers, John K. 188 Hill, Levi L. 210, 210 Hine, Lewis Wickes 266, 330–3, 331, 332, 346, 356, 422 Hiro (Wakabayashi Yasuhiro) 406, 407 Hirsch, Robert 548, 678 Hitchcock, Alfred 643 Hitler erzählt Märchen II (Hitler Tells Fairytales II) (Heartfield) 393 Hitler Moves East: A Graphic Chronicle, 1941–43 (Levinthal) 549 Höch, Hannah 276–7, 276 Hockney, David 560, 590–1, 590 Hoe Sharpener and the Line (Lyon) 495 Höfer, Candida 570 Holmes-Bates Stereoscope 108 Holmes, Oliver Wendell 108, 110, 123, 639, 641 Holmes, Sherlock 155 Holocaust 418, 447, 487, 489, 494, 573, 618 Holocaust effect 573 Homeless Women (Steichen) 400, 401 Home of the Rebel Sharpshooter, Gettysburg (Gardner) 123, 124 homoerotic images 602–3 Honolulu ( Josephson) 521 Hoover Dam (Frank) 455 Hopi Man (Clatworthy) 217 Horace Poolaw, Aerial Photographer, and Gus Palmer, Gunner, MacDill Air Base, Tampa, FL, (Poolaw) 340 Horst, Horst P. 404, 404 Hosoe, Eikoh 551–2, 551 Hour Psycho (Gordon) 643 The House of the Seven Gables (Hawthorne) 33 Howlett, Robert 137, 174–5, 174 How the Other Half Lives: Studies Among the Tenements of New York (Riis) 328 Hoyningen-Huene, George 404 Huebler, Douglas 571 Hughes, C. Jabez 163 Hughes, Langston 467 Hugnet, Georges 317–8, 319 Hugo, Victor 95–6 Human Being as a Piece of Sculpture (Screaming Man Fiction) (Krims) 526 Human Race Machine (Burson) 634

685

Humphrey’s Journal of the Daguerreotype 42 A Hundred Years of Photography, 1839–1939 (Moholy) 308 Hurley, James Francis “Frank” 173 Hurrell, George 409, 409 hyalotypes 107 Hyde, Scott 547 I I Am Its Secret, from the series: Women of Allah (Neshat) 660 I am in Training Do Not Kiss Me (Cahun) 288, 317 Identical Twins, Roselle, N.J. (Arbus) 491 identity exploration 612–20, 612–13, 615–20 illusionism 255 The Illustrated London News 9, 389 Illustrations of China and its People (Thomson) 178 Image magazine 516 Images de Deauville (Outerbridge) 290 images and text 382–6, 383–4 imbibition assembly method 468 Impressionism 228, 229, 229 India ink retouching 60 industrial beauty in modernistic period 255–6 industrialization depictions 172–7, 173–6 Industrial Revolution 9, 230 Inferno (Nachtwey) 429 informe (formlessness) 321 Ingersoll, Ernest 186 The Insect-Headed Tombstone (Laughlin) 444 The Inspector’s Model (Byrnes) 343 instant photography 461–2 Intaglio printing methods 389 interference method 218–19, 218 International Center of Photography (ICP) 422 International Exhibition of Modern Art 259 International Fund for Concerned Photography 421 internet, digital imaging and 643–50, 643, 645, 646, 648, 649, 650 Interpretation Picasso: The Railway (Dubreuil) 236, 236 iodized paper 18 Iran Islamic Revolution 660 Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant (ISIL) 658 Israel, Marvin 407 Ives, Frederic Eugene 213, 390 Ivins, William M., Jr. 51 Ivorytype 91

index

J

Jachna, Joseph 521 Jackson, William Henry 184–8, 186 Jackson, Zig 660 Jacobi, Lotte 312, 460 Jameson, Frederic 575 James Webb Space Telescope 653, 654 Japanese photobooks 550–3, 550–3 Japonism 236 Javacheff, Christo Vladimirov 622 Jean Patchett (Penn) 407 Jean Shrimpton, Vogue (British) (Bailey) 413 Jenkins, Charles Francis 208 Jenkins, William 505, 534, 537 Jennings, Humphrey 359 Jerusalem. Enceinte du Temple (Salzmann) 166 Jim Crow racial segregation 261, 466 Jim Norris and wife, homesteaders, Pie Town, New Mexico (Lee) 352 Joe Kemp, Hanna Furnace, Buffalo, NY (Rogovin) 514, 539 John Brown (Washington) 45 Johnson, John 34 Johnson, Lyndon B. 496, 554 Johnson, Raymond Edward -Ray- 563 Johnston, Frances Benjamin 336–8, 337 Joly Color 215 Joly John 215 Jones, Harold 516 Josepho, Anatol 358 Josephson, Kenneth 521–2, 522 Journal of the Photographic Society 66 Journals of the Royal Institution (Davy) 8 Jugendstil (German art nouveau) 313 Juliet in Camouflage Jungle (Kepes) 311 Jung, Carl 654 Jung, Theo 346 Just Married (Crane) 524 Just What Is It That Makes Today’s Homes So Different, So Appealing? (Hamilton) 462, 463 K

Kahn, Albert 216 kaleidoscopic portraits 265 Kant, Immanuel 9 Kaplan, Howard 548 Kaprow, Allan 515 Karsh, Yousuf 397, 411, 411 Käsebier, Gertrude 239, 243–4, 244, 299, 337, 605 Kasten, Barbara 588, 590 Kataoka Tsuyo, (Tōmatsu) 550 Kathy Kuhn and Her Father (Cameron) 150–1 Katy Electric Studio 261 Keeping Up with the Kardashians (television show) 635 Keïta, Seydou 619, 619

Kelmscott Manor: In the Attics (No.) (Evans) 235 Kennedy, John F 425, 471, 477, 481, 482, 498 Kennedy, Robert F. 481 Kepes, György 310–12, 311 Kepler, Johannes 5 Kerouac, Jack 454, 455 Kertész, André 301, 371–2, 371, 422 Keystone View Company 110 Kiefer, Anselm 622–3, 622 Kihara, Shigeyuki 612 Kinetoscope 208–9 King, Clarence 182, 184, 185, 185 King, Martin Luther, Jr. 481 Kircher, Athanasius 2, 3 Kirsch, Russell A. 650 Klein, William 456–8, 457, 551 Klein, Yves 566, 566 Klett, Mark 537, 538 Klic, Karl 390 Kline, Franz 451 Klutsis, Gustav 277, 277 Knife and Gun Club: Scenes from an Emergency Room (Richards) 531 Kno-shr, Kansas Chief (Fitzgibbon) 180 Kodachrome 220–1, 382 Kodak Instamatic camera 202–3, 462, 509, 548 Kodak Kodalith paper 526, 549 Koko the Gorilla (Cohn) 399 Korff, Karl 394 Kossoy Boris 22–3, 23 Koudelka, Josef 459 Kouwenhoven, John A. 487 Kramer, Hilton 540, 568 Krementz, Jill 426 Krest’ianskii’a dievushki Rossiiskaia imperiia (Prokudin-Gorskii) 214 Krieg dem Krieg! (War against War) (Friedrich) 392–3 Krims, Les 516, 524, 525–7, 526 Kruger, Barbara 503, 579–80, 579 Krull, Germaine 271, 271 Kühn, Heinrich 234, 234, 240 Kurosawa, Akira 449 Kurtz, John 87 L

Labrot, Syl 485–6, 486 La buena fama durmiendo (Good Reputation Sleeping) (Bravo) 377, 378 Lacan, Jacques 534 La Daguerreotypomanie (Maurisset) 32 Lady Elizabeth Eastlake (Miss Rigby) (Hill, Adamson) 64 La Folle d’ltteville (Krull) 271 La Gente del Sud: Scanno (Giacomelli) 459 Laing, R.D. 482 La Lumière 74

686

L’Ami des arts livré à lui-même ou Récherches et décourvertes sur différents sujets nouveaux (Florence) 23 Land Art/Earthworks movement 518 Land, Edwin H. 461 landscape as cultural space 621–9, 621–8 Landscape with Farmhouse (Hill) 210 Land-Weber, Ellen 518 Lange, Dorothea 346, 347–8, 348, 351, 479, 528 Langenheim, William and Frederick 77, 107–9, 108 Language of Vision (Kepes) 310 La Porte Rouge, Notre Dame de Paris (Marville) 76 La Pratica della perspettiva (Barbaro) 4 La Revolution Surréaliste 305 Laroche, Silvester 81 Larson, William 520–1, 520 L’Art de la photographie (Disdéri) 138–9 Lartigue, Jacques-Henri 367–8, 368, 650 Last Peace Demonstration (Frydlender) 636, 637 The Lathe (Strand) 284 Laughlin, Clarence John 443–4, 444, 503, 525 Between (Lê) 613 Leaning Tower of Pisa (Fratelli Alinari studio) 170 Leap into the Void (Klein) 566, 566 Leaves of Grass (Whitman) 33–4 Le Baiser de l’Hotel de Ville (Doisneau) 465, 465 Lê, Dinh Q. 613, 613 Lee, Russell 346, 352 Leeson, William H. 132 Léger, Fernand 256, 309 Le Gray, Gustave 69, 70, 71, 73, 74, 118, 139, 165 Lehmann, Hans 218 Leibovitz, Annie 427 Leiter, Saul 366, 382–3, 382, 539 Le Lithographe 31 Le Nil (Greene) 69 Lenin Tribune (Lissitzky) 280 Leon Trotsky, Copenhagen (Capa) 416 Le Secq, Henri 69, 72, 72, 74–5, 74, 75, 118 Les Jambes de l’opera, Mosaïque, Breveté (Disdéri) 100 Leslie’s Illustrated 132 Lesy, Michael 530, 578 Let Us Now Praise Famous Men (Evans, Agee) 350 Leutze, Emanuel 588 Levere, Douglas 539 Levine, Sherrie 503, 556, 577 Levinthal, David 549–50, 549, 582 Levitt, Helen 380, 380, 539 Lewis, William 7 The Liberator (Douglass) 44

index

Liberman, Alexander 406, 458 Libsohn, Sol 361 Lichtenstein, Roy 462 Lichtwark, Alfred 231 Life Is Good for You in New York-William Klein Trance Witness Revels (Klein) 456 Life and Landscape on the Norfolk Broads (Emerson) 226 Life magazine: collapse of photojournalism 426; first issues of 397; folding of 466; single-meaning photographs 384; subjective documentary 466 Light Work in Syracuse 554 Lillie, Seattle (Mark) 427 limelight 9 Limelight gallery 466 Lincoln, Abraham 92, 111, 123, 125, 184 Lion, Jules 44 Lippard, Lucy 340, 602 Lippman, Gabriel 218 Lippmann, Gabriel 218–19 Lissitzky, El 280, 280 Liszt, Franz 96 lithography 6, 59, 389 little mouse traps 18 The Little Ragpicker (Négre) 71 Liu Zheng 620, 620 locomotion in photographs 193–200, 194–5, 197–8, 200 London Stereoscopic Company 107 Lorant, Stefan 394 Louis, Morris 485 Lucas, Richard Cockle 147 Luce, Henry R. 291, 394 Lucille Brokaw, from Harper’s Bazaar (Munkácsi) 405 Lucille Brokaw (Munkacsi) 405 Lumière, Auguste and Louis 208, 216 Lyell, Charles 199 Lyon, Danny 487, 495–6, 495 Lyon, Lisa 603 Lyons, Joan 499, 547, 563 Lyons, Nathan 479, 487, 499–500, 500, 509, 516 M

MacArthur Fellowship 616 Mach, Ernst 193, 200 machine power 263–4, 263 Mac Orlan, Pierre 372 Macpherson, Robert 169–71, 169 Madame Elena Vacarescu (Salomon) 370 Maddox, Richard Leach 201 Madge, Charles 359–60 magazine, defined 203 Magiae naturalis (Natural Magic) (della Porta) 3–4 Magnum Photos agency 418 Magritte, René 496

A Maid and A Bride of Kandy: Ceylon (Murdoch) 216 Maier, Vivian Dorothy 492–3, 492, 639 mail art 563 Mailer, Norman 493, 536 The Making of an American (Riis) 330 Making Human Junk (Hine) 331 Malcolm X 481 Malherbe, Suzanne 316 Manchester Art Treasures Exhibition 145 Mandel, Mike 577, 588, 589 Man on Desk (Uelsmann) 476, 502 Manet, Édouard 588 Manhattan Project 441 Manifest Destiny 92, 182, 187 Mankind (Burson) 634, 634 Man with a Movie Camera (Vertov) 302 Mann, Sally 605–8, 606 Man in Polyester Suit (1980) 603 Man Ray (Emmanuel Radnitzky) 270–1, 270, 301, 305, 306, 321, 355, 375, 518, 568 Mansion, J. 44 Manual of artistic colouring as applied to photographs (Wall) 139 MANUAL collaboration 575 manual ingenuity 66 Man Walking, “stroboscopic” Photograph (Eakins) 195 mapmaking improvements 3 Mapplethorpe, Robert 554, 602–3, 605 Maquette for the poster for Anti-Imperialist Exhibition (Anti-imperialisticheskaia vystavka) (Klutsis) 277 Maquette pour un mur/Model for a Wall (Ubac) 320 Marcel Duchamp’s Fountain (Stieglitz) 269 Marclay, Christian 588 Marc, Stephen 614 Marey, Étienne-Jules 192, 197–9, 198, 262, 520 Mariella, East New York, NY (Richards) 531 Marilyn, left hand side (Warhol) 483 Marinetti, Filippo Tommaso 262 Marin, John 258 Mark, Mary Ellen 427–8, 427 Martin, Adolphe Alexandre 86 Martin Luther King Jr., Ebony (Karsh) 397 Marville, Charles 76–7, 76, 305 Marxism 255–6, 362, 555, 642 Marx, Karl 255 Mary Lincoln with the ghosts of her husband Abraham Lincoln and her son Thomas “Tad” behind her (Mumler) 153 Maskell, Alfred 231, 232, 233 Mass-Observation group 359–60, 360 Mather, Margrethe 295 Matisse, Henri 258 Matter and Memory (Bergson) 199 Maugham, Somerset 450 Maurisset, Théodore 32

687

Maxwell, James Clerk 211–13, 212, 215 Mayall, John Jabez Edwin 90, 90, 107 Mayo, Los Hermanos 416 McCarthy, Joseph 452 McCaw, Chris 595–6, 595 McCullers, Carson 443 McCullin, Don 422–3, 422 McLean, Virginia, December, 1978 (Sternfeld) 544 McLuhan, Marshall 483–4, 505 McMaster, Meryl 614, 660, 661 Mcpherson, William D. & Oliver 91 Meadow Sutcliffe, Frank 240 Meatyard, Ralph Eugene 444, 524, 525, 525 Mecanisme de la Physionomie Humaine ou Analyse Electro-Physiologique de l–Expression des Passions (Duchenne de Boulogne) 157 mechanical photography 163 Mechanic and Steam Pump (Hine) 332 media photographs 635–6 Meiselas, Susan 426–7, 426 The Melainotype Process, Complete (Neff ) 86 memories and digital imaging 638–9 Mertin, Roger 516, 548 “Metal-Chrome” (bromoil-derived) process 301 Métal (Krull) 271 metaphysical idealism 151 Metzker, Ray K. 498, 500–2, 501 Mexican War 117 Meyerowitz, Joel 542–3, 542 Meyer, Pedro 640–1, 640 Michals, Duane 487, 496–8, 497 Miethe, Adolf 214 Migrant Mother, Nipomo, Cal. (Lange) 347, 348 Mijanou and Friends on Senior Beach Day, Will Rogers State Park (Greenfield) 612 Miller, Lee 271, 319, 418, 419 Miller, Samuel J. 39 Millet, Jean-François 229 Mills, Olan 40 miniature cameras 104, 369–71 Minicam magazine 397 minimalism 528, 566, 575 mirroring process 310, 447 Misawa (Moriyama) 552 Misrach, Richard 548, 623–4, 623 Missions heliographiques 71, 73–4, 305 Mississauga (Ojibwa) Chief Maungwudaus (unknown photographer) 29 Mitchell, Margaret 618 Mobile homes, Jefferson County, Colorado (Adams) 536 Model, Lisette 378, 379, 406, 466, 490 modernistic period: Bauhaus School 279–80; collage and photomontage 274–8, 274–7; Cubism 256–60,

index

257, 258, 259, 280; dadaists 268–9; distilling form 264–7, 264, 265, 267; Futurism 262, 262; high vs. low art 260–1, 261; industrial beauty in 255–6; machine power 263–4, 263; Precisionism 280–3, 281, 282; space/time exploration 269–73, 269, 270, 271, 272; “straight” photography 283–5, 284; Suprematism 278, 279; surrealism 273–4 modernistic photography 297–301, 298–300 modernity movement 8–11, 10 Modern Painters (Ruskin) 163 Modern Photography 397 Modotti, Tina 295, 339–40, 339, 377 Moholy, Lucia 272, 307–8 Moholy-Nagy, László 271–3, 272, 280, 301, 307–8, 307, 308, 319, 449, 461, 479, 499, 521 Monk, Thelonius 489 monocular vision 3 Monroe, Marilyn 407 montage 102, 103–6, 103, 105, 145 Moon, Sarah 412, 413 The Moon (Whipple) 52 The Moon and Sixpence (Maugham) 450 Moore, Marcel see Malherbe, Suzanne Moore, Peter 562 Moore’s Law 633 Morell, Abelardo 594–5, 594 Morgan, Barbara 312–13, 312, 362 Morgan, John Pierpont 336 Moriyama, Daidō 552–3, 552 Morris, Wright 382, 383 Morse, Samuel F. B. 30, 31, 44 Mortensen, William 299–301, 300 Moses by Michelangelo (Macpherson) 169 Mother and Daughter (unknown photographer) 359 Mo Ti 1, 3 The Mountain of the Holy Cross ( Jackson) 186, 186 Mountains, Moving: of Aperture’s Masters of Photography (22 Westons) (Umbrico) 644, 645 moving pictures 208–9, 209 Mr. Knife, Miss Fork (Ernst) 274, 274 Mrs Mayer as Medusa (Yevonde) 318 Mt. Williamson from Manzanar, California (Adams) 297, 298, 299 Mud Truck (Roberts) 592 multiculturalism 612–20, 612–13, 615–20 multiple points of view 496–505, 497, 499–502, 504 Mumler, William H. 153 Münchner Illustrierte Press (magazine) 392 Muniz, Vik 587–8, 587 Munkácsi, Martin 404–5, 405, 406 Münzenberg, Willi 394

Muray, Nickolas 402–3, 403 Murdoch, Helen Messinger 216 Muybridge, Eadweard J. 187–9, 188, 193–5, 194, 197, 199, 200, 207, 588 Mydans, Carl 346 My Lai Massacre (Wood) 498, 499 Mythologies (Barthes) 564 N

Nachtwey, James 429–30, 430 Nadar (Gaspard Félix Tournachon) 34, 96–8, 97, 138, 138 Nadar, Paul 207–8, 207 Nadar Raising Photography to the Height of Art (Daumier) 138, 138 Nader, Ralph 496 Nagasaki 11:02, August 9, 1945 (Tōmatsu) 551 Nagatani, Patrick 585–6, 585 Naked Lunch (Burroughs) 481 Nan and Brian in Bed (Goldin) 604 NASA photographs 653–4, 653 National Child Labor Committee (NCLC) 330 National Daguerreotype Miniature Gallery 37 National Endowment for the Arts (NEA) 554, 605 National Geographic 216, 398–9, 636 National Photographic Association of the United States 39, 86, 88 The National Plumbeotype Gallery 40 Native Americans: social photography of 334–9, 334–9; Western storytellers 182 naturalism 83, 206, 226–8, 227 Naturalistic Photography for Students of the Art (Emerson) 227 Nauman, Bruce 566, 567 Nazi Germany 317, 344, 356, 370, 371, 375, 378, 393, 442, 447, 452, 487, 491, 555, 570 A Necromancer (Lucas) 147 Neff, Peter 86 negative/positive system 634; daguerreotypes and 54, 59; introduction 16–19, 17; retouching of 83 Nègre, Charles 58, 69, 71, 73, 118 Neimanas, Joyce 591 neo-realism 458 Neshat, Shirin 659–60, 660 Nettles, Bea 516, 517, 548 New Bauhaus design 500 New Brighton, Merseyside (Parr) 426 “New Frontier” of social reform: artists’ books 506–8, 507; direct optical and chemical imaging code 484–6, 485, 486; multiple points of view 496–505, 497, 499–502, 504; New Journalism 493–6, 494,

688

495; photographic education 508, 509–10; pop art 481–4, 481, 483; postmodernism 479–80, 480; social landscape of photography 487–93, 488, 490, 491, 492; structuralism 477–9 Newhall, Beaumont 263, 362, 441, 478 Newhall, Nancy Parker 301, 362, 442 The New Industrial Parks near Irvine, California (Baltz) 535 New Journalism 493–6, 494, 495 Newman, Arnold 411–12, 412 New Objectivity 300–5, 302, 303, 304, 306, 344 New Objectivity aesthetic 271 New School of American Photography (Day) 242, 244 news photography: American Civil War 119, 122–31, 124–5, 127–8, 130–1; circulation of 132–4, 132, 133; current events photography 117; early war coverage 117–22, 119, 121; overview 414–15, 415; transparency in seeing 115–16, 116 Newton, Helmut 412 Newton, Isaac 12, 269, 588 Newton, William 66–7, 69, 137, 141, 228 New Topographics style 519, 534–7, 601 New Vision photography 308–12, 309–12 From The New World (Yang Yongliang) 663 New York Camera Club 238 New York, New York (Levitt) 380 New York, No. 6 (Siskind) 451 New York School of Photography 380–2, 381–2 New York Times 205, 432–3, 452 NFTs (non-fungible tokens) phenomena 647 Nickel Tailings, #30 Sudbury Ontario (Burtynsky) 625 Niépce, Claude 12, 14, 81 Niépce de Saint-Victor, Claude Félix Abel 81 Niépce, Isidore 14, 15 Niépce, Joseph Nicephore 12–14, 13, 15, 21, 81, 90, 389 Nietzsche, Friedrich 280 99 Cent (Gursky) 641 Nixon, Nicholas 534, 537 Nixon, Richard M. 410, 489, 515 No. 35, Buy Daily News or Echo! (Barnardo) 158 “No-Focus” photography 525 The North American Indian (Curtis) 336 Nuclear Enchantment (Nagatani) 585, 586 Nude (children) (Boughton) 224, 245 Nude Descending a Staircase No. 2 (Duchamp) 259 nude photography 224, 240, 245, 248, 605

index

Nurse Midwife: Maude Callen Eases Pain of Birth, Life and Death (Smith) 421 O

Obernetter, Johann 201–2 O’Connor, Flannery 443 The Octopus (Coburn) 264 The Old Closes and Streets of Glasgow (Annan) 179 Oldenburg, Claes 462, 481 Old Faithful in Eruption ( Jackson) 185 Old Vennel Off High Street (#2) (Annan) 179 One Time, One Place, Mississippi in the Depression: A Snapshot Album (Welty) 342 The Onion Field (Davison) 229 online photographs 643–50, 643, 645, 646, 648, 649, 650 The Open Door (Talbot) 61, 62 Operating room 41 Operation Crossroads Baker (United States Department of Defense) 471 Oppenheimer, Robert 441 optical devices 11–12 The Orchard (White) 249 Ordeal by Roses (Barakei) #32 (Hosoe) 551 Orientalism 240 On the Origin of Species (Darwin) 199 orthochromatic emulsion 211 Oscar Wilde (Sarony) 100 Osterman, France Scully 657 Osterman, Mark 657, 657 O’Sullivan, Timothy H. 122, 123, 126–8, 128, 184, 185, 538 the others 180, 180 Outerbridge, Paul 290–1, 290, 301 In and Out of Fashion: William Klein (Klein) 458 “out-of-focus” photographs 66–7, 151 Owens, Bill 533, 533 Owens, Craig 556 P

Packard, Vance 478 On Painting (Alberti) 3 panchromatic emulsions 202, 211 Panopticon Prison #3 (Casebere) 581 panorama 10 Papageorge, Tod 489 paparazzi photographers 370 From Paris—Corset with Back Lacing— Maibocher Corset (Horst) 404 Paris Match 411 Parke-Harrison, Robert and Shana 627–8, 627 Parker, Bart 573–4 Parker, Olivia 583–4

Parks, Gordon 346, 354–5, 354, 466–7, 467 Parr, Martin 425–6, 426 Passing Sheep, Tuscany (Burkholder) 649 Pastry Cook (Sander) 345 Patient, Surrey County Lunatic Asylum (Diamond) 156 Pattinson, Hugh Lee 49–50 Pearblossom Hwy, April 11–18, 1986 (Hockney) 560, 590 Peckham, John 2 Peirce, Charles Sanders 477 The Pencil of Nature (Talbot) 61, 63, 647 Penn, Irving 358, 406–7, 407 Penny Picture Display, Savannah (Evans) 349 Pepper #30 (Weston) 296 performance art 566–8, 566, 567, 568, 601 performance-based installations 561–2 permanent images 12–14, 13 persistence of vision 12, 194–5 personal documentary mode 524–32, 524–7, 529–32 Perspectiva communis (Peckham) 2 perspective drawing 3 Pfahl, John 516, 543–4, 543 phantasmagoria 9 Phantasmagoria at the Cour des Capucines (Robertson) 10 phenakistoscope 12, 208 Philadelphia (Friedlander) 490 The Philadelphia Photographer 129, 201 Photo-Aquatint 232 Photo Aquatint, or The Gum Bichromate Process (Demarchy, Maskell) 233 photo booths 358–9 Photo-Club de Paris 230, 232, 236, 239, 241 photodynamism 262 Photogenetic Drafts, #4 (Schmid) 578 photogenic drawing 18–19 photoglyphic engraving 390 photogram 270–1, 272, 461 Photographers’ Association of America 225 The Photographer’s Eye (Szarkowski) 489 Photographic Art-Journal 52 photographic education 449–52, 450, 451, 508, 509–10 photographic language 19–20 Photographic Society of London (England) 66, 137, 138, 143, 231 Photographic Society of Philadelphia 238 Photograph of inefficient work operation (Gilbreth, Gilbreth) 254, 263 photography, art vs. industry: American West 181–9, 181, 183, 185, 186, 188; expanding syntax 145–53, 146–8, 150, 152; industrialization depictions 172–7, 173–6; introduction 137–9, 138; the others

689

180, 180; photography clubs 141–4, 141–4; positivism 155–8, 156–8; realism in art 139–40; spiritualism 153–5, 153, 154; urban life 177–80, 178, 179, 180 photography clubs 141–4, 141–4 Photography and Language (Thomas) 546 Photography into Sculpture (Bunnell) 517 photogravures 226–7, 260–1, 390 photojournalism 330, 392–9, 392–8, 551, 635 The Photomaton 358 photomontage 274–8, 274–7 photorealism 509 Photo-Secession in New York 230–1, 239–40, 245–50, 245–9 Photo-Transformations (Samaras) 527 phrenology 178 physiognomic approach to photography 343–5, 343, 345 physionotrace 6 Picasso, Pablo 256, 257, 258, 317, 372, 412, 479, 530 Pictorial Effect in Photography (Robinson) 149 pictorialism: American perspectives 236–9, 237; approaches to 232–6, 233–6; Decadent Movement 240–2, 241, 242; decline of 250–1; development of 228–30, 229; illusion 391; naturalism and 226–8, 227; Photo-Secession in New York 239–40, 245–50, 245–9; roots of 225–6; Secession movement 230–2; women photographers 242–5, 243–5 picture factories 37–42, 38 picturemaking demand 6 Pictures generation 575–6 Pictures of Magazines series (Muniz) 588 Pierson, Pierre-Louis 101, 102 pinhole camera 375–6 pirating photographers 110 Piss Christ (Serrano) 601–2, 602 The Place No One Knew: Glen Canyon on the Colorado (Porter) 470 Plagens, Peter 633 Plant (Talbot) 17 Plateau, Joseph 12 platinum process 226–7 plein air painters 649 Plumbe, John, Jr. 40, 40, 44 point de vue 13, 14 Poitevin, Alphonse 403 Polaroid process 461–2 Police Station Lodgers (Riis) 329 politics of representation: gender matters 607–12, 608, 609, 610; human body photography 600–7, 602–6; landscape as cultural space 621–9, 621–8; multiculturalism 612–20, 612–13, 615–20

index

Pollock, Jackson 446, 642 Pol Rab (Krull) 271 Pont du Gard (Baldus) 75 Ponting, Herbert G. 162, 172, 172 Ponton, Mungo 21–2 Poolaw, Horace 340, 340, 660 pop art 462–5, 481–4, 481, 483, 566 Popular Photography 397, 398, 441, 455, 509 Porter, Eliot 468–70, 469, 539 Portrait of the Artist as a Fountain (Nauman) 567 portrait galleries and daguerreotypes 38 Portrait of a girl with a hoop and stick for playing “The Graces” (Root) 85 Portrait of a Laundress (unknown photographer) 30 Portrait of Lotte (Kühn) 234 Portrait of a Man Reading a Newspaper (Plumbe) 40 Portrait of a Nurse and a Child (unknown photographer) 28, 33 portrait studio, expansion 40 portrait studios as and picture factories 37–42 Portrait of Two Seated Women (unknown photographer) 80, 86 Portrait of a Young Girl (Demachy) 233 Portrait of a Young Girl, Eaton Place (Brandt) 376 Portrait of a Young Girl (Southworth, Hawes) 41 positive process (positives) 16–19, 17, 54, 59, 634 positivism 155–8, 156–8, 197 postcards 260–1 Postcard Visit, Buffalo ( Josephson) 522 postmodernism 601; beginnings of 479– 80, 480; criticism 556; human body photography 605, 608; rethinking photography and 571–5, 572, 574 post-mortem daguerreotypes 47, 47 Postmortem Portrait of an AfricanAmerican Child (unknown photographer) 47 post-structuralism 534–7, 535, 536 Post Wolcott, Marion 346, 354–5, 355 Powell, John Wesley 187 Precisionism 280–3, 281, 282 Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood 140 previsualization concept 295, 446 Price, Frederick Lake Price 141–2, 141 Prime Base Engineer Emergency Force Camp Justice (Henner) 646 Prince, Doug 517 Prince Lobkowitz (Disdéri) 89 Prince, Richard 503, 556, 576–9, 576, 649 Principles of Geology (Lyell) 199 printing-out process 17 printing photographs: advertising and fashion 399–413, 399–413; introduction 389–92, 391;

newspapers 414–15, 415; photojournalism 392–9, 393, 394, 395, 396, 397, 398; subjective journalism 424–34, 426–8, 430–2, 434; war photographs 416–25, 416–24 Prisoner Being Tortured (Frederick) 432 Professional Criminals of America (Byrnes) 343 Professional Photographers of America (PPA) 398 Prokudin-Gorskii, Sergei Mikhailovich 214, 214 Prostitute (Bellocq) 338 prostitutes as photographic subjects 338, 427, 551 Proust, Marcel 98, 199, 409 pseudoscience 53–4, 53 psychic landscapes 503 Psycho (Hitchcock) 643 public art 618, 618 punctum concept 555 Pure Energy and Neurotic Man (Morgan) 312, 313 Purkinje, Jan 11 R

Rabi, I. I. 442 racism and photography 617–18, 617 Radnitzky, Emmanuel see Man Ray Rainer, Arnulf 566, 567 Rainer, Yvonne 561 Ramesseum, Thebes (Girault de Prangey) 49 Ramón Novarro (Hurrell) 409 The Rashomon Effect 505 Rauschenberg, Robert 479–80, 480, 546 Ray and Mrs. Lubner in Bed Watching TV (Wegman) 568 rayographs 270, 319 Reaching Out, Operation Prairie, Nui Cay Tri (Burrows) 423 Reading Dick and Jane with Me (Sligh) 615 readymade art 269, 565 The Real Housewives (television show) 635 realism in art 9, 139–40, 155 Rear Window (Hirsch) 678 reconfiguring information 548–9, 548, 549 Redfield, Robert S. 238–9 Reekie, John 126, 127 refracting stereoscope 107 Rejlander, Oscar G. 565 Rejlander, Oscar Gustav 139, 141, 145–8, 146, 153, 502 Rembrandt Lighting 98 Renaissance 4, 5, 196 Renger-Patzsch, Albert 271, 303, 303 Renner, Eric 548 Renoir, Jean 258

690

Renty, Congo, on plantation of B.F. Taylor, Columbia, South Carolina (Zealy) 53 Renwick, James 48 Rephotographic Survey Project (RSP) 537–9, 538 reproduction, rise of: camera prototypes 3–4; camera vision 5–6, 7–11; chemical action of light 7; daguerreotype 15–16; fixing the image 19–20; modernity movement 10; negative/positive processes 16–19, 17; optical devices 11–14; permanent images 13; perspective drawing 3; photographic language 19–20; picturemaking demand 6; visual representation, desire for 1–3, 2 Resettlement Administration (RA) 346, 349, 353 rethinking photography: altering space and time 588–96, 589–95; archetypes 576–80, 576, 578, 579, 580; archetypes and photography 571; conceptual art 561–5, 562, 563, 564; deconstructing myths 576–80, 576, 578, 579, 580; fabrication 580–8, 581–7; performance art 566–8, 566, 567, 568; Pictures generation 575–6; postmodernism 571–5, 572, 574 retouching 102, 103–6, 103, 105; calotype and 60; collodion process and 104; effect through 98; hard-edged effects of 75; naturalism style and 83 Retroactive I (Rauschenberg) 480 Reuter, John 461–2, 461 Revenge of the Goldfish (Skoglund) 583 Revolutionary Opera Performers, Beijing (Liu Zheng) 600, 620 Rexroth, Nancy 548 Rhode Island School of Design (RISD) 449 Riboud, Marc 465 Richards, Eugene 530–2, 531 Richardson, Benjamin 101 Richter, Gerhard 101, 262, 572–3, 572 Richter, Hans 268 Rickard, Jolene 614 Riis, Jacob A. 180, 327–30, 329, 333 Rimbaud, Arthur 443 ripened emulsion 194 Ritchin, Fred 429 River Scene, la Vallée de l’Huisne, France (Silvy) 175–6, 175 Road into the Valley—Moonrise (Steichen) 246–7 Robert, Étienne-Gaspard 9, 10 Roberts, Holly 592, 592 Robertson, James 120 Robinson, Bill “Bojangles” 341 Robinson, Henry Peach 137, 148–9, 148, 153, 226, 231, 341, 565

index

Robinson, Jackie 467 Rochester Institute of Technology (RIT) 23, 447, 515–16, 517, 521, 549 Rodchenko, Aleksandr 271, 278, 279, 301 Rodin, Auguste 197, 245 Rodin – The Thinker (Steichen) 246 Rogovin, Milton 514, 539, 539 Romance (N) from Ambrose Bierce, No. 3 (Meatyard) 525 Romantic aesthetic 60 Roosevelt, Franklin Delano 346, 351 Roosevelt, Theodore 327, 330 Root, Marcus A. 84, 85 Rosenquist, James 481 Rossetti, Dante Gabriel 140 Ross, Henryk 418 Rothstein, Arthur 346, 351–2, 351 Royal Album (Mayall) 90 Royal Photographic Society of London 137 rubber stamp art 563 Ruff, Thomas 570 Ruins in Charleston, SC (Barnard) 129 RuPaul’s Drag Race (television show) 635 rural practice of daguerreotypes 39 Ruscha, Edward 534 Ruskin, John 163, 182, 183, 226 Russell, Andrew Joseph 129, 130, 181 Russell, William Howard 118 S

Sabattier effect 37, 319, 516 sadomasochistic images 602–3 Safranski, Kurt 394 Said, Edward W. 180 Saigon (Adams) 424 Sala, Angelo 7 Salgado, Sebastião Ribeiro 428–9, 428, 639 Salinger, J. D. 472 Salomon, Erich 369–72, 370, 394 salted paper print 17 Salutando (Bragaglia) 262 Salzmann, Auguste 69, 165–7, 166 Samaras, Lucas 524, 527–8, 527 Sander, August 344, 345, 358, 620 Sander, Karin 654 Sand, George 92, 96, 97 Sangre de Christo Mountains at Sunset, Tesuque, New Mexico (Porter) 469 Sappho (Cameron) 152 Sarony, Napoleon 99, 100, 101 Satiric Dancer (Kertész) 371 Saturday Evening Post 411 Savage, Naomi 517, 518 Saville-Kent, William 213 scanner as camera 650–2, 651 Scene of Battle, Fredericksburg, VA (Russell) 130 Scene of General McPherson’s Death (Barnard) 129

Scenes from the Private and Public Life of Animals (Grandville) 43 Schamberg, Morton 280–1, 281 Schinzel, Karl 220 Schjeldahl, Peter 528 Schmid, Joachim 578–9, 578 Schneemann, Carolee 566 Schott, John 534, 535 Schulze, Johann Heinrich 7, 23 Schwarz, Arturo 271 Schwitters, Kurt 268 science and daguerreotypes 51–4, 52 Scientific American 195 Scott-Heron, Gil 658 Scott, Walter 60 Seager, David William 31 In Search of Lost Time (Proust) 98, 409 Seattle Subtext (Berger) 575 Sebald, W. G. (Winfred Georg Maximilian) 618–19 Secession movement 230–2 Sekula, Allan 344, 491, 555 Self-Portrait (Cornelius) 35 Self-Portrait as a Drowned Man (Bayard) 22 Self-Portrait (Legs, Hands and Thumbs Together) (Coplans) 604 Self-Portrait (Maier) 492 Self-Portrait (Mapplethorpe Foundation) 603 Selter, Carol 650 Senefelder, Aloys 6 separate creation theory 54 September 11, 2001 terrorist attacks 430, 543 Serengeti Lion (Beard) 547 Serrano, Andres 554, 601–2, 602 Seymour, David (Chim) 418, 418, 422 shadowgraphs 21 Shahn, Ben 346, 353–534, 353 Shaw, George Bernard 204, 239 Sheeler, Charles 281–3, 282, 295, 301, 445 Sheikh, Fazal 614 Shepherd, Charles 176–7 Sheridan, Sonia Landy 518 Sherman, Cindy 101, 301, 317, 528, 578, 607, 608–10, 609 Shore, Stephen 489, 534, 539, 541–2, 541 Shoshone Falls, Snake River, Idaho (O’Sullivan) 185 Siegel, Arthur 449, 539 Sign Painter (Kurtz) 87 Silliman, Benjamin 51 The Silver Sunbeam (Towler) 83 Silvy, Camille 98, 175–6, 175 Simmons, Laurie 582, 582 Simpson, Lorna 616–17 simultaneous consciousness 22 Sinai and Palestine (Frith) 168 single-meaning photographs 386 Sinsabaugh, Art 484–5, 485

691

Sir J.F.W. Herschel (Cameron) 150 Siskind, Aaron 309, 361–2, 449, 451–2, 451, 499, 502, 580 The Sixth Principle (Osterman) 657 67 Shooting Back (#159) (Araki) 553 Thomas, Lew 546, 588 Skoglund, Sandy 582–3, 583 slavery 53–4, 53 Sligh, Clarissa T. 614–15, 615 smartphones 643–50, 643, 645, 646, 648, 649, 650 Smith, Adolphe 179 Smith, Frank Eugene 248, 248 Smith, George 234 Smith, Hamilton L. 86 Smith, Henry Holmes 460–1, 460, 478, 502, 516 Smith, John Shaw 167–8, 167 Smith, Keith 546, 547 Smithson, Robert 518, 622 Smith, William Eugene 382, 420–1, 421, 502, 531 Smyth, Charles Piazzi 105 The Snake Priest, Hopi (Vroman) 335 The Snapshot (Green) 531 snapshots: democratic nature of 532–3, 533; family subject matter 140; overview 203–6, 204, 206; social photography with 342, 487 Snow, Michael 547 social contract with truth 635–8, 636, 638 social landscape of photography 487–93, 488, 490, 491, 492 social media 643–50, 643, 645, 646, 648, 649, 650 social photography: automated photography 358–9, 358, 359; documentary approach 355–6, 356; ethnic consciousness 340–2, 340, 341, 342; ethnological approaches 334–9, 334–9; Film and Photo League 360–1, 360; Great Depression 346–55, 348–54; introduction 327–33, 329, 331, 332; Mass-Observation group 359–60, 360 social realism 339, 443, 573 social uplift, concept of 328 Society of Amateur Photographers 238 Society of Arts of Scotland 22 Society for Photographic Education (SPE) 509, 516 Society of the Spectacle (Debord) 565 solarization 319; see also Sabattier effect Soldiers’ Photographs at United States Post Office Dead Letter Office (unknown photographer) 116 Soldier with Two Girls in Polka Dot Dresses (Disfarmer) 358 Some Account of the Art of Photogenic Drawing (Daguerre) 18 Sommer, Frederick 445–6, 445, 460

index

Sonneman, Eve 588 Sontag, Susan 1, 429, 481, 555 Sound I Saw 468 Southworth, Albert Sands 40–2, 41, 42, 44 Souvenir de Jersey (Blanquart-Evrard) 67 Soviet Union 441, 573 space and time, altering space and time 588–96, 589–95 space/time photography: altering space and time 588–96, 589–95 Spagnoli, Jerry 509 Spano, Michael 591, 591 Spence, Jo 610 Spencer, D. A. 212 Spender, Humphrey 360, 360 spirit photography 153, 154 Spirits of Père Lachaise (Reuter) 461 spiritualism 153–5, 153, 154 Spiti: The Manirang Pass, Elevation 18,600 feet (Bourne) 176 Stalinism 447 standardization of photography: mechanical photography 163; traveling cameras 163–72, 165–72 Staples, Brent 531 Starn, Doug 592–4, 593 Starn, Mike 592–4, 593 Star, Wendy Red 660 State of Existence (Telberg) 440, 446 The Steamship “The Great Eastern” being built in the docks at Millwall (Howlett) 174 The Steerage (Stieglitz) 258 Steer Skull, Badlands, SD (Rothstein) 351 Stehli, Jemima 610 Steichen, Eduard (Edward) Jean 479; approaches 239, 266, 283, 295, 416; commercial 294; commercial photography 290, 294; editorial photographs 400–1, 400, 401; The Family of Man 452–3; pictorial aesthetic 245–7, 246 Steinberg, Leo 479, 571 Steinert, Otto 452 Stelzner, Carl 44 Stelzner, Ferdinand Carl 117 stereo cards 110–11 Stereo Reels 110 stereoscope 106–11, 106, 108, 111 Sternfeld, Joel 544 Stickeen Beckons Me to a New Adventure (Taylor) 626 Stieglitz, Alfred 269, 330, 452; Analytic Cubism 258–60, 258; commercial photography 245–50, 245–9, 399; “equivalents” 292–4, 293, 294; influence of 448, 468, 469, 509, 580; modernist photography movement 295, 298; nude photography 248; Photo-secession in New York 236–9, 245–50, 245–9; pictorial aesthetic

245, 251; psychological themes 292–4, 293, 293, 294; straight photography 322; subjective approach 270; vernacular subject matter 367 Stiffens, Mathew 358 Still Life, Marseilles (Witkin) 584 Still Waters (Demithan) 650 Storks (Anschütz) 200 storytelling through photographs 614–15, 615 straight photography 640; geometric compositions 308; modernistic overview 297–301, 298–300; purity of use 283–5, 284; real vs. abstract 521–3, 522 Strand, Paul 266–7, 267, 283–5, 284, 290, 295, 297, 330 Street Life in London (Thomson) 179 stroboscope 384 structuralism 477–9 Struth, Thomas 570 Stryker, Roy E. 346, 347, 351, 352, 354 studio tableaux 584 studio tradition of collodion process 96–101, 97, 99, 100 studium concept 555 Stuffed Birds (unknown (Irish?) photographer) 215 Sturges, Jock 605 subjective-documentary approach 465–70, 465, 467–9 subjective journalism 424–34, 426–8, 430–2, 434 Subjektive Fotografie (subjective photography) movement 452 subtractive imbibition assembly method 468 subtractive method 219–21 Sultan, Larry 577 Sunburn GSP #676 (San Francisco Bay) (McCraw) 595 Sunday afternoon we get it together (Owens) 533 The Sun (gallery for portraits) 34 Sun Pictures in Scotland (Talbot) 60 Suns from Flickr (Partial) (Umbrico) 644 Suprematism 278, 279 Surgery Through the Ages (Hiller) 402 surrealism: in digital photography 652; introduction 273–4; as metaphor 443–8, 444, 445, 446, 448; studio tableaux 584; surrealistic themes 316–22, 317–21 Survivor 9 (television show) 635 Survivor of Hutu Death Camp, Rwanda (Nachtwey) 430 Suspension Bridge (Langenheim, William and Frederick) 108 Sutton, Thomas 36, 67, 211, 212 SV# 035/81, Near Live Oak I, Joshua Tree National Monument, CA (Flick) 523

692

The Sweet Flypaper of Life (DeCarava, Hughes) 467 Swinger camera 462 SX-70 camera 527–8, 591 Symbionese Liberation Army 515 symbolism: modernist ideas in 313; narrative allegories 140; rise of 218, 225–6 symmetry of art and science 182 Synthetic Cubism 257 Szarkowski, John 301, 478, 487, 488, 489, 505, 516, 522, 537, 540, 542 T

Taber, Isaiah West 189 tableaux photography 145 tabloid-style photographs 525 Tagg, John 158, 344 Talbot, Constance 61 Talbot, Henry Fox 506 Talbot, William Henry Fox 6, 60–2; enlarging experiments 104, 107; flash photography 193; halftone process 390; influence of 66, 77, 81, 90, 140, 164, 617, 647; negatives / positives 17–19, 17, 20, 21, 23, 54, 59–60, 634; The Open Door 61, 62; photogram 273; photogravures 226–7; pictures of moving objects 193; printing establishment 62 Talbotype Establishment 62, 63 Taro, Gerda 416 Taupenot, J.M. 201 Taylor, B. F. 53 Taylor, Brian 626, 626 Taylor, Fredrick Winslow 263 Taylor, Maggie 651–2, 651 Taylor, Paul 347, 348 technical breakthroughs 201–2 Telberg, Val 440, 446–7 televised images 658–64, 659, 660, 661, 662, 663 The Temple of Ohm (Grand Canyon) (Coburn) 242 Temples of Nubia (Smith) 167 Tenneson, Joyce 412 Tereska, a Polish child in a home for disturbed children (Seymour) 418 The Terminal (Stieglitz) 237 Terror of War (Ut) 424 Test Spirit Photograph (Hartman) 94 Tet Offensive, Hue (Fallen North Vietnamese soldier, his personal effects scattered by body-plundering soldiers) (McCullin) 422 A Tewa Girl (Curtis) 336 thaumatrope 11 théâtre noir 457 Their First Murder (Weegee) 414 Theory of Colours (Goethe) 11

index

Theo Schneider Automobile, Le Grand Prix A.C.F (Lartigue) 368 Things Are Queer (Michals) 497 Thinking Photography (Burgin) 575 35mm film format 208 Thompson, Hunter 493 Thomson, John 177–9, 178 Thorne-Thomsen, Ruth 548–9, 548 Three Brothers, 4480 feet (Watkins) 183 Three Sides of a Small House, the Fourth Being Obscured by a Low Wall and Some Foliage (Cumming) 570, 571 Three Women with Car (Keïta) 619 Throssel, Richard 340 The Ticket That Exploded (Burroughs) 481 time-based art 643–50, 643, 645, 646, 648, 649, 650 Time Exposure ( Jackson) 187 time in photographs: images and text 382–6, 383–4; introduction 367–79, 368, 370, 371, 373, 374, 376–7, 378; New York School of Photography 380–2, 381–2; unseen moments in 384; see also space/time photography; visualizing time and space Tiphaigne de La Roche, Norman 7 Tobey, Mark 447 Tolstoy, Leo 411 Tomatoe Picture (Parker) 573 Tōmatsu, Shōmei 422, 550–1, 550 Tomkins, Calvin 259 tonalism 240–2, 241, 242 tonal masses 60 Tourists Viewing Niagara Falls from Prospect Point (Babbitt) 50 Towler, John 83 Tracey, Andree 585–6, 585 transcendentalism 153, 442 transcendental landscapes 503 Transcension Hypothesis 662 Transmission 0035 (Larson) 520 transparency in photographs 83, 203 Travelers Aid Society 400 traveling cameras 163–72, 165–72 Tress, Arthur 524 Trestle Work, Promontory Point, Salt Lake Valley (Russell) 181 trichromatic theory of color perception 211 trompe l’oeil (fool the eye) effect 10 Trudeau, Garry 549 Truman, Harry S. 441, 449 Truths & Fiction: A Journey from Documentary to Digital Photography (Meyer) 640 Truth, Sojourner 92, 92 Tsuchida, Hiromi 422 The Tugboat (Le Gray) 71 Tugwell, Rexford G. 346 Turbeville, Deborah 412 Two Girls Smiling (Gurney) 36

The Two Ways of Life (Rejlander) 139, 145, 146 Two Women Embracing (unknown photographer) 38 Types of Women, West Africa (Fortier) 257 U

Ubac, Raoul 320–2, 320 Uelsmann, Jerry 444, 476, 498, 502–3, 502, 506, 516, 651, 656 Umbrico, Penelope 644–5 Uncle Rudi (Richter) 572, 573 Uncommon Places (Shore) 542 unconscious associations 143 Unger, David 424 uniformitarianism 182 Union Cases 37, 85 Unitarian Church 31 United States Department of Defense 471 The Universal Exposition, Taken from the Eiffel Tower, Paris (Zola) 206 unseen moments in time 384 Untitled (Bayer) 308 Untitled (Berman) 464 Untitled (Burroughs, Gysin) 481 Untitled (Clark) 530 Untitled (Crewdson) 638 Untitled (Eggleston) 540 Untitled (Filmer) 143 Untitled Film Stills (Sherman) 608–10, 609 Untitled (Gibson) 529 Untitled (Hugnet) 319 Untitled (Kruger) 579 Untitled (Labrot) 486 Untitled (Levinthal) 549 Untitled (Lyons) 500 Untitled (Man Ray) 270 Untitled (Prince) 576 Untitled (Shahn) 353 Untitled (Spano) 591 Untitled Triptych (Chiarenza) 581 Untitled (Weems) 616 Upper Egypt and Ethiopia (Frith) 169 urban life 177–80, 178, 179, 180 U.S. Camera magazine 397, 441 Ut, Huynh Cong “Nick” 424 Uzzle, Burk 533 V

Vachon, John 346 The Valley of the Shadow of Death (Fenton) 119 The Vampire (Négre) 58, 72, 73 van der Rohe, Ludwig Mies 407 VanDerZee, James 340–2, 341 Vanek, Karl 393–4, 394 Van Gogh, Vincent 588 Vanity Fair 400, 404 Van Schaick, Charles J. 530

693

Vermeer, Johannes 5–6, 339 Vertov, Dziga 302–3, 302 Vice President Richard Nixon (Halsman) 410 Victoria, Charles 46 Victoria, Queen 46 Vienna Club der Amateur-Photographen 230 Vietnam, Inc. (Griffiths) 423 Vietnam War 505, 515 View Album and Business Guide of San Francisco (Taber) 189 View of Boulevard du Temple (Daguerre) 16 View of Earth rising over the lunar horizon (Anders) 621 View from His Window at Le Gras (Niépce) 13 View-Master 3-D viewers 110 View Taken from an Airplane (Man Ray) 319–20 Viola, Bill 561 Vishniac, Roman 356, 357 Visual China Group 433 visualizing time and space: additive screen process 214–18, 215–18; additive theory 211–14, 212–14; American culture of light 312–16, 313–15; color photography 210, 210; as extended continuum 207–8, 207; human vision, inadequacy 193; interference method 218–19, 218; locomotion in photographs 193–200, 194–5, 197–8, 200; moving pictures 208–9, 209; snapshots 203–6, 204, 206; subtractive method 219–21; technical breakthroughs 201–2; see also space/time photography; time in photographs visual representation, desire for 1–3, 2 Visual Studies Workshop (VSW) 500, 509, 516, 547, 554, 555 VIVO collective 552 V.J. Day (Eisenstaedt) 396 Vogel, Hermann Wilhelm 201–2, 236 Vogel, Lucien 394 Vogue (Steichen) 400, 400 Vortograph (Coburn) 265 vortographs 265 Vroman, Adam Clark 334–5, 335 W Walker, Captain Jonathan W. 42 Walker, Kara 617–18, 617 Walker, Lewis Emory 111 Walker, Todd 506, 507 Wall, Alfred H. 139 Wall Encrustations, Moon (White) 448 Wall, Jeff 586–7, 586 Wall Street Journal 430, 433

index

Walmart Portrait Studios 40 Warhol, Andy 358, 462, 481, 482–4, 483 war photographs 416–25, 416–24 Washington, Augustus 44, 45 Washington, Booker T. 337 Washington Crossing the Delaware (Muniz) 587 Washington, Jesse 261 Wash on the Lines, Bolton (Spender) 360 Waste Land: Meditations on a Ravaged Landscape (Hanson) 623 Watkins, Carleton E. 183–4, 183, 187 Watzek, Hans 234 The Weaver (Carroll) 632, 662 Weber, Max 258 Webster, Daniel 42 Wedgwood, Josiah 7, 8 Wedgwood, Thomas 8 Weegee (Arthur Fellig) 414, 415, 456, 493, 525, 620 Weekly Illustrated magazine 394 Weems, Carrie Mae 578, 615–16, 616 Wegman, William 568, 568 Weiner, Dan 422 Weiwei, Ai 662 Welling, James 580 Wells, Alice 516 Welty Eudora 342, 342 Werkman, Hendrik Nicolaas 503 Wessel, Henry, Jr. 534 Wesselmann, Tom 481 Westernmost Colossus, the Great Temple, Abu Simbel (Du Camp) 165 Weston, Brett 297 Weston, Edward Henry 295–7, 296, 339, 339, 362, 377, 443, 448, 478, 479, 488, 519, 539, 577 wet plate process: albumen process 81–2, 82; ambrotype 84–6, 85, 86; cabinet pictures 95–6; carte de visite (visiting card) 88–95, 89–94; ferrotype 86–8, 87; montage 102, 103–6, 103, 105; stereoscope 106–11, 106, 108, 111; studio tradition 96–101, 97, 99, 100; transparent look 83–4 Whatman, J. 64 What Will I Say to the Sky and the Earth II (McMaster) 661 Wheatstone, Charles 106–7, 193 wheel (disk) camera 196 Where I’ll Go After I’m Gone (Wojnarowicz) 605 Whipple, John Adams 51–2, 52, 107 White, Clarence Hudson 239, 248–50, 249, 295, 347 White, Minor 447–8, 448, 466, 470, 478, 496, 502, 516, 580 Whitman, Walt 33–4, 283, 448 Whitney Museum of American Art 587, 592 Wiener Kamera Klub 230 Wiesel, Elie 573

Wilde, Oscar 240 William C. Irvin (Ball) 46 Williams, Tennessee 444 Willis, Deborah 341–2 Wilmore, J.T. 63 Wilson, Edward L. 95, 201 Wilson, George Washington 95 Winkelmann, Mike 647, 648 Winogrand, Garry 382, 487–9, 488 Winston Churchill, Life cover, May 21 (Karsh) 411 Winter on Fifth Avenue (Stieglitz) 238 With a View to a New Art of Dying and Painting (Fulhame) 8 Witkin, Joel-Peter 101, 554, 584–5, 584 Wodiczko, Krzysztof 618, 618 Wojnarowicz, David 605, 605 Wolcott, Alexander S. 34, 104 Wolfe, Tom 493 Wollaston, William Hyde 6 Woman Opening Refrigerator/Milk in the Middle (Simmons) 582 Woman on Phone (Bruguière) 315 women have to be naked to get into the Met. Museum? 611 women photographers: children in photographs 605–7, 606; commercial photography 412; documentary photography 425–7, 426–7; pictorialism 242–5, 243–5 Women’s Liberation Movement 515 women’s roles/identities 276 Womens’s Portrait Series (Lyons) 563 wonder room (Wunderkammer) 101, 398 Woodbury, D. B. 123 Woodburytypes 179 Wooden Staircase at Chartres (Le Secq) 74 Wood, Grant 358 Wood, John 498–500, 498 Woodward, David A. 104 Workers: An Archaeology of the Industrial Age (Salgado) 428 Working grid photograph of Phil (Close) 508 World’s Fair, New York (Winogrand) 488 World War I Plastic Surgery Patient (unknown photographer) 392 World War I Soldiers (Fichter) 517 Wright, Elsie 154, 155 Wright, Richard 352 Wynfield, David Wilkie 151

Young Boys Waiting in the Plantation Store to Be Paid Off for Picking Cotton (Post Wolcott) 355 Young, Stanley 398, 398 Your Age and Mine and the Age of the World (Kiefer) 622 Youths Practice Throwing Contact Bombs in Forest Surrounding Monimbo (Meiselas) 426 Z Zealy, Joseph T. 53, 53 Zeitgeist 443 Zheng, Liu 600 zoetrope 12, 195 Zola, Émile 206–7, 206 Zone System 297 Zone System Manual (White) 447 zoopraxiscope 195

Back cover image © Edward Bateman. Through the LookingGlass. 2023. 6.5 x 5.4 inches. Digital 3D modeled/rendered objects with historical imagery. Lewis Carroll (Charles Dodgson) was a writer and an avid photographer. In this image, Alice Liddell makes the exposure of a double self-portrait using a mirror that captures the process. Edward Bateman claims that this image was the inspiration for Carroll’s book

X xerography 562 Xeroxed Photo Albums (Araki) 553

Through the Looking-Glass (1871). Bateman creates the images that have not been included in the photographic history canon because they did not exist until he made them. Today, any image that can be envisioned can be

Y

Yang Yongliang 663 Yevonde, Madame 317–19, 318

694

created through technologies of simulation including artificial intelligence.