Photocritic International etc

Another blogger who has been reviewing his year is critic and photo-historian A D Coleman, whose work on-line I’ve often mentioned here, most notably in recent times his epic series dismantling the Capa D-Day legend – and as he reminds us in his 2014: That Was The Year That Was there are still a few loose ends to be cleared up.

There is of course a lot more than this, and he starts the piece – as I also did the other day – by looking at his web site statistics. I can only comment that he deserves a much higher readership, and perhaps the new website on which he is planning to publish more of his work will give him this (and there is some more detail in his December ‘Birthday Musings‘.) He is also asking for support, both financial and “in-kind services from volunteers” and if I wasn’t far too busy I would be tempted to help. There is also a review of the main topics his blog has covered, and it is worth checking if there is anything you have missed.

His previous Year-End Ends and Odds is full of acute observations, some of which may amuse you. I don’t always agree with him (wouldn’t life be dull…), but if you like your thoughts being provoked this is a site worth adding to your favourites. One thing I don’t share is his apparent enthusiasm for the work of William Mortensen (see those ‘Birthday Musings’), though of course he should not be written out of the history of photography. We do need bad examples (a thought I sometimes console myself with.)

Whenever I find myself forgetting how bad a photographer he was I reach down my copy of his ‘The New Projection Control‘ (3rd edition 1945 – a gift, I didn’t buy it) and look at the examples he used there. And it would be hard to find a better guide to how to destroy the integrity of your images. My copy even came with a small print of a kitten between its pages as a bookmark. I doubt it was made by Mortensen but it is bad enough to have been. His “Le Chatte” included in the book is even worse, though it could well be the same animal.

For yet more looking back at the year that was, I’d recommend another site I’ve often mentioned, where you can see The Best of LensCulture in 2014 as selected by the Editors of LensCulture.

Died in 2014

I’ve commented here on several photographers who died in 2014, including Lewis Balz and Rene Burri. Among those I thought about but didn’t get around to writing anything at the time, though I have written about them previously, were Ray MetzkerRebecca Lepkoff and  Arthur Leipzig and you can read a little more about them and a number of others in the Time Lightbox ‘In Memoriam‘ feature.

Lepkoff and Leipzig both studied with the New York Photo League in the 1940s, and were 98 and 96 respectively. The Photo League was arguably the most important organisation in American photography of the last century, the basis of a New York school which led to the US domination of much of photography. As well as the many distinguished photographers who taught or studied there, its influnece on younger photographers was enormous, despite (or perhaps aided by) its ruthless dismemberment  under McCarthy-ism.   I was pleased in the early years of this century to write about it at some length, as well as about many of the photographers associated with it, at a time when it seemed to have been forgotten by many. You can see and hear Leipzig in the trailer to ‘Ordinary Miracles’ a 2012 film about the Photo League, along with other former students in their 80s and 90s.

But among the photographers whose deaths have made headlines in the past year were a number of much younger photojournalists, with 16 photographers among the 60 journalists listed as killed by the Committee to Protect JournalistsReporters Without Borders make the tally a little higher at 66, and they also report that 178 journalists and 178 citizen-journalists were in prison around the world on 8th December 2014. I’m not sure that the distinction between journalists and citizen-journalists is any longer valid, but the figures for deaths and imprisonment put my own complaints about our police here and their treatment of the press into perspective. Though of course even if the risks are lower, fighting for the freedom of the press is still vital.

You can read more about the photographers who were killed at the links above, but I want to highlight one of these, Luke Somers, simply because, although I never met him, he worked for the same agency that I use. An American freelance in Yemen, he was kidnapped in September and  held hostage by Al-Qaeda and was killed during a failed rescue attempt by US special forces on December 6, 2014. You can see his work on Demotix, where he had submitted 98 stories from Yemen since 2011.

Phantom

I’ll freely admit to never having heard before of Peter Lik, whose photograph “Phantom” has just sold for a world record $6.5 million. And when I went to his  web site to (as it says) ‘DISCOVER THE BEAUTY OF “PHANTOM” FOR YOURSELF‘, I have to say I was not overly impressed.

In the press release about the sale it states:

“Phantom” sold to a private collector for an unprecedented $6.5 million.  The purchase also included Lik’s masterworks “Illusion” for $2.4 million and “Eternal Moods” for $1.1 million.

“Phantom” and “Eternal Moods” are black and white representations of Lik’s iconic images “Ghost” and “Eternal Beauty.”  Lik is known for his artistic approach to landscape photography and capturing Mother Nature’s vibrant colors.  His use of black and white imagery is a rare and compelling departure from his normal style.

Looking at his site I was very much reminded of those many on-line shops I’ve browsed, perhaps in search of a new jacket or t-shirt, though there are t-shirt companies like Philosophy Football that I find rather more artistically interesting.

Of course Lik is a more than competent photographer (and has the certificates on-line to prove it), but frankly I think that anyone who pays more than two figures for one of his prints is lacking in judgement, and it is hard to disagree with anything that Jonathan Jones says in his Guardian article  “The $6.5m canyon: it’s the most expensive photograph ever – but it’s like a hackneyed poster in a posh hotel“. Where the frames are worth more than the image.

It’s interesting that Lik’s on-line biography (which fails to mention a single other photographer whose work might have inspired or influenced him) includes the following:

Peter’s images can be viewed in luxurious hotels, prominent estates, leading corporate offices and in all of his galleries around the United States.

So perhaps those ‘hackneyed posters’ were really clichéd Lik originals. And if you can read that ‘biography’ without reaching for a sick bag you have a stronger stomach than me.

In black and white, “Phantom” is perhaps slightly less tacky than “Ghost” which is the colour version, but Jones is spot on the ball when he comments ‘Today, this deliberate use of an outmoded style can only be nostalgic and affected, an “arty” special effect. We’ve all got that option in our photography software.’ Though I suspect Lik’s conversion to black and white, presumably with ‘PhaseOne‘ was a little more sophisticated than Instagram, it does I think emphasize a failure in his vision.

As Jones says “Someone has been very foolish with their money, mistaking the picturesque for high art“. It harks back an argument that was current in photography around a hundred years ago, and for most of us looking back was fairly convincingly brought to an end by the final  editions of Camera Work, begun at  devoted to the work of Paul Strand. Edward Weston struggled with the issues in his own work in the 1920s, (and wrote about them) as did others in that period, but the debate was essentially over. And of course since then we have had further movements away from the pictorial and “arty”, for example in the later work of Strand, as well as with Walker Evans, Robert Frank and more. We’ve moved too from Ansel Adams (who perhaps seldom entirely escaped the picturesque ) to Robert.

Where Jones misses the point is to condemn ‘fine art photography’ because of the foolishness of some US billionaire and the avarice of the art market. Of course this is not ‘the most valuable “fine art photograph” in history’, and an idiot or a business paying huge money for it or other pictures (whether painted or photographed) doesn’t make it anything more than the most expensive.

In a house spat, yesterday The Guardian published a riposte by Sean O’HaganPhotography is art and always will be’, which also says many things it is hard to disagree with, despite the silliness of its title. Most photography plainly isn’t art and never will be. And while not quite all the names given by O’Hagan to support his argument have a high rating in my personal Pantheon and we disagree about the dividing line between artists and photographers,  he is clearly right about the irrelevance of the debate which Jones brings up and right too in his agreement over the worth of that Lik image: “It’s global capitalism – obscenely rich people with more money than sense.”

What matters in the end is not whether anything is art or photography – or in the end whether people chose to work within the photographic tradition or a wider artistic one, but vision and the ability to communicate that vision. As O’Hagan says, work that “makes you look at the world differently“.

Capa Myth Rumbles On

This morning A D Coleman published Episode 18 of his series Alternate History: Robert Capa on D-Day, a series that with the help of others, particularly J. Ross Baughman, has explored what really happened to Robert Capa and the pictures that he took on Omaha Beach during the first day of the D-Day landings in 1944.

There is now no room for doubt that Capa only made 11 exposures on Omaha Beach on June 6 and the question has now moved on to who fabricated the myth of the darkroom accident and why, and the continuing defence of untenable positions by various of those involved – even now they grudgingly admit there were – or at least may have been – only 11 images.

Of course nothing in this whole saga diminishes Capa as a photographer, and we have always known that he was a great storyteller, and while photographs remain fixed, stories surrounding them always have a habit of growing with the telling, and the legend always affects and can sometimes come to overshadow the actual image.

What distinguishes this story is the speed at which it was elaborated (if inconsistently as Coleman demonstrates) and the mythic status it has gained in the history of photography. And those of us who have taught and written about the history of photography feel a certain betrayal at having been duped and a little shame at having passed it on to our students and readers. (Though in mitigation I think I usually put down the actual appearance of the ‘surviving’ images to factors other than darkroom damage while repeating what was the accepted lie of the loss of other pictures from the beach.)

As a journalist and a photographer, I have a strong conviction that truth matters, although of course recognising the subjectivity of my own viewpoint. What has emerged in Coleman’s investigations seems clear evidence of a deliberate construction of falsehood, of lies that don’t affect the actual photographs but have contributed to their status as icons. And lies that materially affected the careers of some of those involved, probably getting Capa the offer of a permanent job with LIFE, and, as Coleman also pointed out in Episode 17:

Were it not for the myth of the melted emulsions (and its potency as a visual image), Morris would be even more obscure as a relevant cultural reference point today than his boss at LIFE, Wilson Hicks, then the chief picture editor at that magazine, or Tom Hopkinson, editor of the British magazine Picture Post — names you rarely hear today outside of courses in the history of photojournalism.  As it stands (or has stood until now), the dramatic emulsion-melt fable functions as the key moment in Morris’s professional life.

There are lies that matter – and lies that don’t. All of us regularly tell plenty of the second type, and most of Capa’s ornamentations in his writing are harmless and amusing – as they were meant to be. This was something different, something deliberately intended to mislead and which succeeded in doing so with such a powerful effect on our perceptions of the history of photography. Even though we now know as a lie, there is no way we can cancel the distortion it has caused.

 

Dora Maar (1909-1997)

Dora Maar certainly merited a page in the book by Rosalind Krauss, Jane Livingston and Dawn Ades published for the Corcoran Gallery’s 1985 show, L’amour Fou: Photography & Surrealism, a thoroughgoing examination of the role of photography in the Surrealist movement, which I saw the following year in London’s Hayward Gallery.

But the page – a brief biography, ends with the statement “(Dora Maar has declined permission to reproduce her photographs in this book.)” Maar was then 76, and the reasons for her refusal are not known, though she had given up photography over 40 years earlier and turned to painting. She does appear in the book’s pictures, but only as the subject for a well-known solarised portrait by Man Ray.

Should one want to speculate on Maar’s reasons, the biography by Mary Ann Caws, Dora Maar With And Without Picasso: A Biography, published in 2000, three years after Maar’s death aged 89 might offer clues. I’ve not read it, but there is an interesting edited extract online from The Guardian.

Maar’s work undoubtedly would have been a valuable addition to that book and show, certainly rather more central to it than some that was included. You can judge for yourself on the web in Venice : Dora Maar Despite Picasso, and  Dora Maar – Photographer and Muse. There is also a page from Wikipedia worth reading (and states she returned to photography in the 1980s) which has some further links, including to A World History of Art.

The video from the Cleveland Museum of Art,  Artist Spotlight: Dora Maar || Forbidden Games: Surrealist and Modernist Photography which prompted this post is in some respects curious and perhaps unfortunately shows rather little of her work and rather too much of “art collector and filmmaker David Raymond, whose once-beloved photograph are now owned and on view at the Cleveland Museum of Art as part of the exhibition, Forbidden Games: Surrealist and Modernist Photography, “, on view there until 11 Jan 2015,  entry free.

My thanks to Peggy Sue Amison for posting a link to this video on Facebook.

Lewis Baltz 1945-2014

I met Lewis Baltz when I went to a workshop led by him at Paul Hill’s Photographers’ Place in Derbyshire around 1979, having been greatly impressed by his work in ‘The New Industrial Parks near Irvine, California which I had seen in books and magazines from the US. Along with Robert Adams and Stephen Shore his work has had a great influence on my photographic practice.

He brought the page proofs of ‘Park City’ with him to the workshop and we were able to compare them with his original prints, and I rather put my foot it in when I told him I felt that some of the book versions were an improvement on his original prints. He had only just received these and I think would probably have rather spent the time looking through them on his own than with us. I got even more into his bad books when I commented on the tonal problems of using the ultra-slow b/w films he was working with that were not designed for pictorial photography. They were problems that I experienced too. Then he had been using some ultra-slow Kodak recording film, but later he moved to Technical Pan, and that was a beast I spent some years trying to tame to my satisfaction. When it was good it was very, very good, but…

I don’t think he looked at the work of any of us taking part in the workshop – rather unusually, but it was a short workshop, certainly if he did I remember nothing he said about the work I had taken from my Hull project, but he was very generous in showing and talking about the work of the other ‘New Topographics‘, including some who were hardly known in the UK. I think it was him who got me excited about the work of Robert Adams, as well as that of Anthony Hernandez and also Chauncey Hare, with whom I later had a brief correspondence. I’ve not met Baltz to talk with since that workshop, but his death still came as something of a shock; someone I’d once spent a few fairly intensive days with and a man a few months younger than me.

I well remember standing in a London bookshop a few months later with Park City in my hand, looking though the images and trying to steel myself to buy it. But here in the UK it was I think £50, roughly a week’s pay for me, and I reluctantly put it back on the shelf.  Perhaps I would have gone without food for a few days, but it would be hard to explain to my wife and two sons. Of course it would have been a good investment.

I still have the signed copy of ‘Nevada’ he sold at the workshop, and I did buy Chauncey Hare‘s Interior America, which was going cheap in a sale at the Photographers’ Gallery shortly afterwards, perhaps I was almost the only photographer here who appreciated his work. I wrote about him and the book perhaps 10 years ago on About Photography, and was pleased when a new and larger book of his work was published in 2009.

Baltz remained very much in the eye of the photographic public and I followed his work in the pages of some of the more expensive photographic magazines and at exhibitions such as Paris Photo, but there doesn’t seem to be a great deal of his later work on line.  George Eastman House  has a largish collection of his very early work and there is more information on American Suburb X. There is an interesting related note at SFMoMA, who also have the best on line collection of his work up until 1979 I’ve found, although only around a quarter of the 81 works listed have images available.

You can also find some quotations from him on the web, including this:

I believed it was necessary to investigate photography, dismantle it, jettison all the non-essential components, and begin again with a stripped down but more powerful idea of what is, or could be “photographic”.

and

I’ve thought that when people appear in a picture, they automatically are perceived as the subject, irrespective of how they are represented. I wanted the only person in the picture to be the viewer.

Perhaps once you have stripped it down it isn’t too easy to know which way to go. The second quotation was a point of view in my own mind for years, though perhaps I have got over it now, and was perhaps behind my thinking for the photographic show I curated back in 2001, Cities of Walls, Cities of People.

Prize Portraits

The Taylor Wessing Photographic Portrait Prize at the London National Portrait Gallery has often proved controversial, and this year is no exception. The show opens today, Thursday 13 November 2014 and is at the gallery until 22 February 2015, and entry is free. I’ve not seen the actual images, and don’t feel a great compulsion to rush to the gallery, but doubtless I’ll find myself with a free half hour in the Trafalgar Square area in the next couple of months and will pop in to have a look.

From some reproductions on-line, the winning entry, by David Tatlow, described as an “intimate portrait of his baby son being introduced to a dog” is certainly rather disappointing, the kind of picture that if I’d taken it I would have kicked myself for not having done it rather better. As the photographer comments “Everyone was a bit hazy from the previous day’s excess’ after a midsummer party”, and on-line at Taylor Wessing it does seem to me to be more a portrait of a photographer’s hangover than of his baby son. Reactions I’ve heard from other photographers have been largely unprintable. But then the reproduction of it on the Taylor Wessing page is a shocking travesty – and I hope they will quickly replace it. Seen in the Evening Standard – as I did last night reading it on the top deck of a bus in a London gridlock – it is actually a far better picture!

The contest this year attracted 4,193 pictures from 1,793 photographers. At £26 per picture, that brings in a considerable sum of money, my calculator makes it £109,018.  The prizes add up to £19,000, and either my maths is wrong or this seems a pretty poor bet to me. Far better take your £26 to a roulette wheel.

You can see more of the 60 selected images on-line at the NPG, along with some technical details, and also, thanks to Portrait Salon, a slightly larger selection from the 4,133 rejected images made by Christiane Monarchi (Photomonitor), Martin Usbourne (Hoxton Mini Press) and Emma Taylor (Creative Advice Network). Overall their choices seem a little more interesting from what I’s so far been able to see. And I am sure that there would be work from many of the other over 1,600 photographers who entered that was at least as worthy of showing as that in either of the shows. It really is a lottery.

Portrait Salon was at Four Corners Galley in Bethnal Green from 6th-11th Nov and has future showings at Fuse in Bradford (Dec 4-27), Oriel in Colwyn Bay (Jan 9 –  Feb 9), Napier University Edinburgh (19Feb – 16 Apr) and Parkside Gallery Birmingham (6-31 July) and also in Bristol.

It’s a competition I’ve never thought seriously of entering, in part because although I take very many pictures of people I’ve never considered myself a portrait photographer. More importantly I’ve never been a great believer in photographic competitions, and after a few in my early years (some of which I even won) have generally avoided them. I reject the idea of treating photographs like the Eurovision Song Contest or Miss World or prize pigs. Though of course there are some bad photographs, some incompetent photographs and a great many more that have little or no interest for me.

And it’s that last phrase that is important. Judging such competitions will always be a very personal matter and any different group of judges would have picked a different set of images. It’s a shame that two of the five judges for the Taylor Wessing prize were ‘in-house’ from the NPG and a third came from the sponsoring law firm; the prize would certainly have greater credibility from a more independent panel.

In some past years, the NPG prize has been criticised as a competition for who can produce the best Rineke Dijkstra rip-off. Some years so much so that it rather seemed misleading if not even fraudulent not to have added this as one of the contest rules. At least this year’s winner, whatever one thinks of it, has broken that mould.

It’s certainly always been a contest dictated by whatever was the current fashion, and run in an organisation that really seems to have little understanding of photography. They do have some great photographs in their collection, but every time I visit I find myself appalled by some of the other work I see on the walls, tired, vapid and often highly fashionable.

But I also feel the whole idea of the photographic portrait questionable, though I can think of some great examples – such as Stieglitz’s portrait of Georgia O’Keefe, though of course here I’m not referring to a single image. But relatively few photographic portraits seem to me to have much more significance that the small rectangles we have on our passports or ID cards, and it is only when they are subsumed into some greater project – such as August Sander‘s – that they gain depth and greater meaning.

Thurston Hopkins (1913-2014)

Godfrey Thurston Hopkins, graphic artist, photographer and painter who was born 16 April 1913 died earlier this week on 26 October 2014, aged 101. You can read his obituary in The Guardian and others elsewhere, and see pictures in the Getty Image Gallery, Corbis etc.

In 2006 I tidied up my notes, added a few biographical details and published the following essay on Thurston Hopkins, which circulated widely to those with an interest in photography around the world, getting several hundred thousand views. Outside of the UK his work – and British photography in general, including the Picture Post were not very well known. Other than removing a couple of links that no longer work, updating some others and correcting a couple of trivial spelling errors, I have made no corrections to the piece.

==================================

Early Years

Always known as Thurston Hopkins, few realise that Thurston is actually part of his family name. He stopped using his first name at an early age (there is now even some confusion as to whether it was Godfrey or the unusually spelt Geofrey.) He is always know to friends, family and the many admirers of his work as Thurston.Geofrey Thurston Hopkins has perhaps a more English-sounding ring, one that would have fitted neatly into the ranks of gentlemen (not players) in the county cricket teams of the 1930s. It was normal at the time (and remains the practice at more elite schools) to call boys by their surnames. This was universal among masters and also generally adopted by the boys among themselves unless some more suitable and usually derogatory nickname suggested itself. Perhaps he became used to being called ‘Thurston Hopkins’ during his schooldays and simply carried it on into later life.

Robert Thurston Hopkins

His father, Robert Thurston Hopkins, (1884-1958), was a prolific author, writing topographical works, ghost stories and much more, including biographical works on such great British figures as Oscar Wilde, H G Wells and Rudyard Kipling. His 1935 book ‘Life and Death at The Old Bailey’ is often quoted in discussions of the identity of the infamous London serial killer ‘Jack The Ripper’. Much of his work was related to the English countryside, with books on Sussex, where the family lived, and Cornwall, as well as several on London. He also wrote some of the early classics of industrial archaeology, on windmills and watermills, as well as the ‘Moated Houses of England’, published by Country Life in 1935. One of his other works was the ‘Every Boy’s Open Air Book’ of 1925.

Early Work

The young Hopkins liked to draw, and after studying at Brighton College of Art, in Sussex, began work as a graphic artist. In his younger years he apparently helped with some of his father’s books. There is one rare volume (I’ve not seen a copy), ‘Literary Originals of Sussex’, published by Alex J Philip in Gravesend in 1936, that gives as joint authors G & R Thurston Hopkins. He also started to take pictures, largely teaching himself photography. Apparently he took some of the photographs for his father’s books. There is a single rather ordinary example of a windmill picture in a very large page slow loading page with many other windmill pictures and texts with the credit ‘Thurston Hopkins’.

PhotoPress

It took the abdication of the British King to finally push Hopkins completely into photography. He had been working for a publisher adding decorative frames to portraits of Edward VIII when the king announced his decision to give up the throne on December 10, 1936. It was a decision that doubtless made Wallis Warfield Simpson happy but Thurston Hopkins redundant. His employer told him he would find it easier to earn a living from photography, and he took the advice, joining the PhotoPress Agency

Cameras

First Camera

His first camera was a Goerz Anschutz. The Goerz company was founded in Berlin, Germany where it began making cameras in 1887. By 1911 they also had a factory in London, and also branches in Paris, Riga, Bratislava, Vienna and the USA. In 1926 the German company joined with Contessa Nettel, Heinrich Ernemann AG and Ica to form Zeiss Ikon, but the overseas companies – such as C.P.Goerz American Optical Co continued to trade independently. Goerz were probably best known for their Dagor lenses, produced in the US in the 1950s.

Ottomar Anschutz

The Goerz Anschutz camera was commonly used by press photographers in the early years of the 20th century, and was a folding strut device, usually taking ‘half-plate’ images. It took its name from Ottomar Anschutz (1846-1907), inventor of the focal plane shutter. Anschutz was also one of the pioneers of the photography of movement, producing images similar to those of Edward Muybridge. He also made an early movie projector, the Electrical Tachyscope, which used a Geissler flash tube.

Focal Plane Shutter

The camera was of course fitted with Anschutz’s patent focal plane shutter. Rather than being marked with shutter speeds like a modern camera, this had a piece of string to adjust the distance between the two travelling blinds that started and finished the exposure and a ten position knob which was used to alter the tension of the spring that powered them. Its adjustment was a matter of experience and rule of thumb rather than science. Focus for rapid press use was by scale, with the photographers making their own markings on the camera for the distances they used. The image could be examined on a ground glass screen in place of the plate when time allowed precise focus. These relatively primitive cameras demanded skill and experience from the operator to get good negatives, especially without the aid of an exposure meter. Many of the plate negatives from the era are extremely overexposed by modern standards.

Miniature Cameras

There were far more convenient cameras available, including the ‘medium format’ Rollei twin lens reflex and 35mm cameras such as the Leica and Contax. However the ‘miniature’ negatives produced by these relatively expensive cameras were not generally considered useful for reproduction. [p} An exception to this in the 1930s was in photojournalism and newspaper work in the hands of pioneers such as Humphrey Spender and Bert Hardy. In the USA, the young W Eugene Smith was sacked by Newsweek in 1937 for using a miniature camera.

Leica

A few years later, when Hopkins was serving in the RAF Photographic Unit during the Second World War in Italy he acquired a Leica. It was the first camera he ever felt at home using, and apart from a few pictures with a Rollei, he seldom used anything else for the rest of his career.

Post War

Demobbed

After being demobbed, Thurston Hopkins hitchhiked around Europe for a while taking photographs, and then worked for Camera Press, the agency founded in London in 1947 by Tom Blau and still going strong.

Picture Post

Like many other photographers of the era, his ambition was to work for the magazine ‘Picture Post‘, founded in 1938 with Hungarian émigré Stephan Lorant (1901-97) as editor. Assisting him was Tom Hopkinson (1905-90), who took over as editor when Lorant went to the USA in 1940. The magazine was funded by publisher Edward Hulton, and was a more or less instant success – within a few issues it had a circulation of over a million. Hopkinson and Picture Post played a major part in creating a sense of national identity during the war, and played an important role in the developments leading to the setting up of the welfare state, not least through the many features that illustrated social inequalities.

Post Photographers

Photographers working for Picture Post included many of the leading names of the day – Bert Hardy, Kurt Hutton, Humphrey Spender, and, occasionally, Bill Brandt. Thurston Hopkins apparently persuaded Picture Post that he was a suitable photographer for them by making up a dummy of an entire issue from his own pictures and text. He started work for them in 1950, and continued until the magazine finally collapsed, following a gradual decline in readership and competition for advertising with commercial television, in 1957.

Grace Robertson

Another photographer who submitted pictures to Picture Post and was offered work at more or less the same time went under the name of Dick Muir. Women photographers were almost unheard of at the time and to get her work considered Grace Robertson had to use a male pseudonym. Born in 1930, she taught herself photography at the age of 17, joined Simon Guttman‘s ‘Report‘ agency a couple of years later and worked frequently for Picture Post. Guttman was a legendary figure in the development of photojournalism, discovering and promoting many of the best photographers; while running ‘Dephot’ in Berlin he lent his young darkroom assistant Andre Friedmann a Leica, beginning the career of the great Robert Capa.

Love and Marriage

Robertson and Hopkins were married, and still live together in a picturesque cottage in the pleasant and rather sleepy small Sussex seaside town of Seaford. This area is sometimes known as England’s Costa Geriatrica; my own father retired to spend his last fifteen years in Seaford. Robertson’s book ‘A sympathetic Eye‘, published in 2002, has done much to bring her work back to public attention. It includes both a picture of her daughter Joanna in 1965 and her granddaughter Cressida in 1998, along with several memorable picture stories used by Picture Post, including one of women from a Bermondsey pub making their annual day trip to the seaside in 1954.  Life magazine liked the story so much they got her to make a repeat feature of a similar group two years later.

Later Life

When his job at Picture Post came to an end, Thurston Hopkins set up a studio in Chiswick, and for ten years was one of London’s more successful advertising photographers. He then changed track and turned to education, teaching on the photography course at the Guildford School of Art, which had become one of the major British centres for the teaching of photography under Ifor Thomas. Now long retired, Hopkins spends much of his time painting, although Robertson continues to photograph.

Hopkins & Picture Post

More than a Magazine

Picture Post was more than a magazine, it had become a part of the British way of life during the Second World War and the immediate post-war years. It was read by many more than the respectable circulation figures indicate, with copies passed around family and friends, including many who could not afford their own copies. It represented and mirrored the feelings of the people living together under the blitz and fighting to defeat fascism. Its editorial stance was very much on the liberal left, humanist, populist and campaigning, and many stories dealt with issues that were close to the heart of ordinary working people, illustrating them with images of people like them who they could feel close to.It was a stance that was most clearly echoed in the work of its chief photographer, Bert Hardy. It was also part of a culture we see clearly in the classic British films of the era, such as ‘Passport to Pimlico'(1949). Picture Post would surely have been the house journal of that plucky independent state of ‘Pimlico-Burgundy’.

Thurston Hopkins perhaps provided a slightly more thoughtful and reserved approach to issues than his colleagues on the magazine, although like the other photographers, he was very dependent on the stories assigned to him as well as his own suggestions.

Cats of London

One of the first essays by Hopkins published in Picture Post was his ‘Cats of London (24 Feb 1951 edition), almost certainly suggested by the many cats he met while walking around the streets of London on other assignments. The blitz had made many cats homeless, and these strays had often established themselves in the bombsites, living and breeding more or less wild on the scraps the could find and that friendly neighbours put out from them.Even cats who still enjoyed good homes would spend much of their time on the streets; the cat flap was as yet unknown and every cat owner still ‘put the cat out’ as part of the ritual of retiring for the night. City cats were still street cats first and home cats when it pleased them. Hopkins started to collect pictures of these cats on the street, attracting them with a little food, and it made an interesting if not profound story.

La Dolce Vita

His best known picture however stars not a cat but a poodle. He had noticed the dog in a limousine belonging to a hire car firm, and went to talk to the driver. It turned out that the driver was both the owner of the hire car company and the dog, and often drove him around in the car as a joke. Hopkins asked the driver to pose for him with the dog sitting alert and upright in the seat next to him, just like a dowager. Entitled  ‘La Dolce Vita, Knightsbridge, London, 1953‘ the picture has been widely reproduced over the years and sold as a popular poster.

Liverpool

The decline of Picture Post was clearly indicated by the fate of the story by Hopkins on Liverpool, arguably his finest work. Taken in 1956, it showed the people of the city living in slum properties with few possessions, through a series of powerful images.A child peers from the corner of a broken window; a woman washes her face sitting crouched over a bowl of water on a newspaper covered kitchen table, her breakfast cup and plate still on it, an older woman stands among scattered sheets of newspaper in the desolate infinity of an alleyway between the walled yards of back to back streets, clutching a few packets to her breast., desolate and desperate. A child tries to sleep on a sparse bed below a dirty blanket. Covering this are sheets of newspaper, probably more to protect the blanket from falling plaster and drips of water than to keep her warm.

Spiked

The city fathers protested to the proprietor, Edward Hulton about this indictment of conditions in their city. He put pressure on the editor (no longer Tom Hopkinson, who had left the magazine several years earlier following the dispute with Hulton over his printing of a report by Bert Hardy and journalist James Cameron on the mistreatment of prisoners in the war in Korea) and the story was dropped. Twenty years later, other photographers, including Paul Trevor, went back to Liverpool and found little had changed.

More Features

Street Games

Another fine Hopkins feature – fortunately published – was of children playing in the street; its aim was to support the provision of less dangerous play areas and activities. These pictures appeal to me partly for personal reasons, as I can see myself in many of the young kids he found; I was of an age with them, played on the streets much as they did, wore the same uniform of short trousers and shirts and pullovers (though mine were more untidy, worn and darned than most in his pictures.) His work shows an impressive ability to get to know these children well enough to produce images that look entirely natural, although we often know that some have been set up and posed by him. In perhaps the most graphic of them, a small face with a feathered ‘Indian’ headdress pops up from a coal-hole in the pavement in the foreground and takes aim at the photographer with his six-shooter, while his friends down the street look on.

Christmas in Pimlico

One image that perhaps sums up his – and Picture Post’s – approach perfectly was taken on Christmas Day, 1954. The view is down from an upper floor into the bleak yard of a block of council flats in London, a drab block at the top of the image of the tarmac yard, used as a drying area for washing. Two lines of whites are pegged out neatly to dry, the top mainly babies nappies, framing the conversation that is taking place near the central post in the yard. A priest, The Reverend George Reindorp, Vicar of St Stephen’s Church in Rochester Row, near London’s Victoria Station, bareheaded in black cassock leans down to talk to a young boy, dressed in his Sunday best, cap in hand, looking up at the vicar.

Viewing the Hulton Collection

Photographers on the staff at Picture Post were paid a salary and their prints and negatives became a part of the Hulton empire. When the magazine closed, this fabulous archive was sold to the BBC (British Broadcasting Corporation) who proceeded to neglect it in a damp cellar. Later it was saved from ruin by being sold to Brian Deutsch, and it is now owned and managed by Getty Images. Although it pains me to see photographs by some of the best photographers of the era simply credited to the collection with the photographers not named, Getty Images have recently organised shows with some excellent new prints of work by Hopkins, and you can also search the Hulton Collection on their web site to see more. If you know the picture number you can enter this into the search box, otherwise simply put ‘Thurston Hopkins’, and you will find a large number of images by him – almost 800 when I last looked.

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Rene Burri (1933-2014)

René Burri, who died on October 20th, aged 81, was a photographer who was not appreciated as he should have been here in the UK – something which could be said about almost all photographers, but especially true in this case. Wikipedia lists almost 20 major shows of his work, quite a few of which were shown in several cities, but not a single one of them in the UK. I saw his René Burri – Rétrospective 1950-2000 in Paris in 2004 and was surprised at the breadth of his work, with many images that were unknown to me.

Most of us will recognise the six images he talks about in the video on Vimeo, and there are some others that are well-known as well as others that surprised me in another short video, Impossible Reminiscences, which came out for the publication of the book of the same title. But the best place to see his work is probably on his Magnum page, although the material on show there still only scratches at his huge output- he has left his archive of over 30,000 pictures to the Musée de l’Élysee in Lausanne.

The slide-show on Magnum starts with his first picture, Winston Churchill standing up in a car going through Zurich in 1946, when Burri was 13, and he was supremely a man with the great ability to be in the right place at the right time. But he was more than that; for him it was not just ‘f8 and be there’, but the ability to be there and to see things differently.

Of particular personal interest on the Magnum site was his set of over a hundred images of Brasilia, mainly taken around the inauguration in 1960, but also some images from the 1970s. Some of these brought back memories of my own trip there in 2007, though I wasn’t there to take pictures but to show them, and only took a compact camera with me.

I wrote briefly about the 2004 show in Paris as follows:

The queue at the MEP stretched out the length of the garden into the street, but it only took us around fifteen minutes to get in. Inside it was pretty crowded, at times too full to really look at the pictures. The main show was of work by Swiss photographer Rene Burri (1933-) who joined in 1955. Burri was a pupil of Hans Finsler at the School for Arts and Crafts in his hometown of Zurich. It was both an exhaustive and exhausting show that left me feeling that he would have been better served by a significantly more selective editor.

Burri is best known for such iconic works as his portrait of Che Guevara smoking a cigar. By far the strongest of the work on show was from his book on Germany made in the late-1950s (he brought out a revised version including some later pictures more recently.) Burri’s work is more traditional than that of his compatriot Robert Frank and more cerebral than that of Leonard Freed (who also produced a book on Germany.) Burri caught the Germans at a time when their memory of the war and the consequences of defeat were still very evident, and recovery was only beginning to make itself felt.

One image shows two elderly men in Weimar perhaps planning a holiday route, poring over a map spread over the bonnet of a car. The overtones of invasion are only too clear. Another picture of a street in Rheinpfalz on a misty day in 1959 has a man in the centre walking toward the camera. The street looks down-at -heel and the young man is a worker, wearing a hat and muffler. In is arms he holds awkwardly horizontal a baby, whose white bonnet is outlined perfectly against the black coat of an older and more distinguished figure walking away from the photographer. We see the new Germany coming out of its murky past with the hope of a brighter future, while and older generation is left behind in the past.

So far the obituaries I’ve seen have done little more than state brief biographical details together with a few pictures, with the best I’ve seen to date on PDN.  Doubtless more substantial accounts will be forthcoming – and if you come across any before I do, please feel free to add the details in a comment to this post.

 

Capa’s Missing Negatives Found

It’s a headline that offers rather more than it delivers. We can now be completely sure that there were no more pictures made by Capa during the D-Day landing. There never were any “missing” negatives, no ruined films. The negatives (or at least a large selection of them) are in the archive.

If like me you have followed with interest A D Coleman‘s investigations into the “missing” Capa negatives from D-Day, supposedly ruined in processing in the LIFE London office, you will want to read the latest episode, Alternate History: Robert Capa on D-Day (13) in which Coleman discloses where they “sit today, intact and available for study” (though currently unavailable until sometime next Spring due to relocation.)

It’s a disclosure that confirms Coleman’s previous conclusion that Capa only took 10 or 11 frames on Omaha beach and very much calls for an explanation of the legend that was clearly manufactured around Capa’s D-Day images. All 35mm four rolls survived processing and that the contents of them – apart from those frames from Omaha Beach – were deliberately suppressed. The existing images in the archive apparently match the notes Capa made about the films containing images of the briefing and embarkation from Weymouth already published.

But you should go to Photocritic International to read Coleman’s account, which gives great detail on his findings. If you haven’t already read them, there is a page linking to all the posts in the series, including those by guests, around 18 in all, with another promised with more about the negatives “and their implications, and related matters.”

Coleman’s correspondence  by email exchange with former LIFE picture editor John G. Morris which he published earlier ended with Morris accusing Coleman of “false accusations” and calling for a public apology. It seems clear now that it’s time for Morris, now 97, to tell the truth about what happened, despite any promises he may have made at the time.

For my own previous comments on Coleman’s Capa series see Capa Under Fire and More on Capa – Fraud.