History of photography

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15
History of photography
Abbe James
Allen Albert
Bailey David

Beaton Cecil
Cunningham Imogen
Carroll Lewis
Drtikol Frantisek
Duhrkoop Rudolf
Eisenstaedt Alfred
Feininger  Andreas
Halsman Philippe
Heartfield John
Horst P. Horst
Kasebier Gertrude
Kirkland Douglas
Lartigue Jacques Henri
Laughlin Clarence John


Maar Dora
Man Ray

Miller Lee
Munkacsi Martin


Outerbridge Paul


Rodchenko Alexander
Skoglund Sandy
Smith William Eugene
Smith Rodney
Tabard Maurice
  Watson Albert

Toward the end of the 19th and into the early 20th century, greater numbers of magazines were published throughout the world. The enlarged demand for photographic illustration, along with the appearance of lighter, easier-to-use camera equipment, led to an increase in images of war for reproduction. The Spanish-American War was documented by Jimmy Hare, the South African War by Horace W. Nicholls, the Russo-Japanese War by Luigi Barzini, and the Mexican Revolution by Augustin Victor Casasola. Although strict censorship prevailed with regard to the photographic record of World War I, the prominence of picture magazines from the 1920s through the 1950s ensured the continuance of war reportage.

A new approach to photojournalism began to emerge with the appearance of the Ermanox in 1924 and the Leica in 1925. These two German-made miniature cameras, fitted with wide-aperture lenses, required extremely short exposure times for outdoor work and were even able to photograph indoor scenes with available light. The Leica had the added advantage of using 35-mm roll film that could be advanced quickly, allowing a succession of exposures to be made of the same subject. This capability led to photographs whose informality of pose and sense of presence were remarkable.

Owing to these developments, the photojournalist was able to perceive a significant moment in a fraction of a second and to use the camera with such speed and precision that the instantaneous perception would be preserved forever. This is evident in the work of the Hungarian André Kertész in Paris during the 1920s. The Frenchman Henri Cartier-Bresson began about 1930 to develop the style that he later called the search for the “decisive moment.” To him the camera was an “extension of the eye.” Preferring the miniature 35-mm-film camera, he worked unobtrusively, making numerous exposures that usually included one in which all the elements come together to form a compelling psychological and visual statement.

In 1928–29 two of the largest picture magazines in Europe, the Münchner Illustrierte Presse and the Berliner Illustrirte Zeitung, began to print the new style of photographs. Erich Salomon captured revealing candid portraits of politicians and other personalities by sneaking his camera into places and meetings officially closed to photographers. Felix H. Man, encouraged by Stefan Lorant, editor of the Münchner Illustrierte, made sequences of photographs at interviews and cultural and social events, which Lorant then laid out in imaginative picture essays.

The example of the German picture magazines was followed in other parts of Europe and in the United States. One was the short-lived Vu, established in Paris in 1928. An issue of Vu devoted entirely to the Spanish Civil War contained memorable photographs by Robert Capa. In 1936 both Life and Look were conceived in the United States, and a formula evolved in which the picture editor, photographer, researcher, and writer constituted a team.

Among Life’s first photographers were Bourke-White, already famous for her industrial photographs made largely for the magazine Fortune; Alfred Eisenstaedt, an experienced photo reporter for the Keystone Picture Agency in Germany; Hansel Mieth, also from Germany, who at times worked with her husband, Otto Hagel; and Peter Stackpole, whose photographs of the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco attracted much attention. The concept of Life from the start, according to its founder, Henry Luce, was to replace haphazard picture taking and editing with the “mind-guided camera.” Photographers were briefed for their assignments and encouraged to take great quantities of photographs so that the editors might have a large selection. (The fact that selection and sequencing were a function of the editors led to objections on the part of some photographers, notably W. Eugene Smith, who left the employ of Life at one point in order to gain greater control over his own work.) The visual organization of the picture story was carefully planned for maximum reader impact. The opening photograph of the photo-essay established the situation, and as with written narration there was a visual climax and a definite conclusion.

Initially Life and Look preferred to use pictures of great sharpness and depth. Thus, instead of unobtrusive miniature cameras, American photographers used large-format cameras requiring slow lenses, large plates, and additional flash light. This way of photographing was challenged by Lorant, who had left the Münchner Illustrierte Presse after being forced to leave Germany in 1934. He eventually settled in London, where he established the magazines Weekly Illustrated (1934) and Picture Post (1938). Staff photographers on both magazines included old colleagues also forced from Germany, such as Man and Kurt Hutton. They and other contributors were encouraged to develop the technique and pictorial style of taking photographs by using available light—i.e., not using a flash. Their pictures had a remarkable naturalness that brought great reader appeal—so much so that Life began to publish similar photographs and in 1945 hired a former Picture Post photographer, Leonard McCombe, with an extraordinary clause in his contract: he was forbidden to use a flash.

The photojournalistic style popularized by Life and Look influenced other activity in the field, in particular the exhibition “Family of Man,” which was mounted by Steichen at the Museum of Modern Art in New York City in 1955. This highly popular exhibition presented over 500 photographs—mostly photojournalistic and documentary work—alongside texts of different sizes and formats, somewhat in the manner of a three-dimensional magazine.

Memorable groups of photographs were taken for the major picture magazines. Examples are Man’s A Day with Mussolini, first published in the Münchner Illustrierte Presse (1931) and then, with a brilliant new layout, in Picture Post; Smith’s Spanish Village (1951) and Nurse Midwife (1951) in Life; and Eisenstaedt’s informal, penetrating portraits of famous Britons, also in Life. Images by Eisenstaedt of the Italian incursion into Ethiopia and by David Seymour (“Chim”) and Capa of the Spanish Civil War made visible events leading up to World War II. This conflict was thoroughly documented for the Western allies by military personnel as well as by Capa, Bourke-White, Dmitry Baltermants, Yevgeny Khaldey, and Constance Stuart Larrabee on the North African, eastern European, and western European fronts and by Smith in the South Pacific. Heinrich Hoffman portrayed the war at home and at the front for Germany, and Yosuke Yamahata documented the role of the Japanese army in the South Pacific.

Andre Kertesz
Andre Kertesz, original name Andor Kohn (born July 2, 1894, Budapest [Hungary]—died September 28, 1985, New York, New York, U.S.), Hungarian-born American photographer known for his lyrical and formally rigorous pictures of everyday life. One of the most-inventive photographers of the 20th century, Kertész set the standard for the use of the handheld camera, created a highly autobiographical body of work, and developed a distinctive visual language.

Kertész began photographing in 1912, the same year he took a job as a clerk at the Giro Bank of the Budapest Stock Exchange. During World War I he served in the Austro-Hungarian army. He saw action and continued taking pictures on the Eastern Front, where he was severely wounded. In 1918 he returned to work at the bank, photographing in his spare time.

Because of a lack of opportunities in Hungary, Kertész moved to Paris in 1925 to work as a freelance photographer. His poetic images of Paris street life, often taken from high vantage points, involve unexpected juxtapositions and make frequent use of reflections and shadows. In 1927 Kertész had a well-received show at the Au Sacre du Printemps Gallery in Paris. The following year he participated in the influential First Independent Salon of Photography. His photographs, notable for their blend of a romantic sensibility with modernist attitudes, were frequently cited by critics of the 1920s and ’30s as proof that photography could be considered a fine art.

Apart from his images of everyday life, Kertész took portraits of luminaries such as Russian filmmaker Sergey Eisenstein, Dutch painter Piet Mondrian, French writer Colette, Belorussian French artist Marc Chagall, French painter Fernand Léger, American sculptor Alexander Calder, and Romanian-born French writer Tristan Tzara. Some of those portraits were made on assignment for the trailblazing French picture magazine Vu (published 1928–40). Kertész worked as a lead photographer for Vu from its launch until 1936. Among his picture essays were those about a Trappist abbey, the tradespeople of Paris, Lorraine, Burgundy, and other regions of France. He also contributed to Art et Médecine and many other European periodicals.

In 1928 Kertész bought a Leica, a small handheld camera that gave him the ability to move more freely within any environment. Although he frequently staked out settings and patiently awaited the photographic moment, he is considered a pioneering street photographer, a label that implies quickly sizing up and capturing an unfolding situation. Street photographers Henri Cartier-Bresson and Brassaï, to whom Kertész taught photography, cited him as an important influence. He also mentored Hungarian-born American photojournalist Robert Capa.

Kertész married Hungarian-born painter Rozsa Klein in 1928. He taught her photography, and she soon became a respected photographic portraitist known as Rogi André. In 1932 the couple divorced. The following year Kertész married another Hungarian, Erzsébet (Elizabeth) Salamon (also known as Erzsébet, or Elizabeth, Saly).

Also in 1933 the humorous, often risqué magazine Le Sourire commissioned from Kertész a series of nude photographs using distorting mirrors. In the end, he made more than 200 Distortions. He continued to use distorting mirrors in his photography intermittently for the next half century. His first book, Enfants (1933; “Children”) was followed by Paris Vu par André Kertész (1934; “Paris Seen by André Kertész”) and Nos Amies les Bêtes (1936; “Our Friends the Animals”).

Kertész traveled to New York City in 1936 on a one-year contract with the Keystone Press Agency. Unhappy with the studio fashion work he was assigned and with life in New York, he soon broke his contract, though financial difficulties and World War II prevented his return to Europe. In 1944 he became a U.S. citizen.

From 1936 to 1947 Kertész worked as a freelance photographer for American magazines, including Look, Coronet, Harper’s Bazaar, Vogue, and Town and Country. However, some American editors considered his images too poetic and, therefore, unsuitable for their story and layout ideas. In 1947 he signed an exclusive contract with Condé Nast publications, becoming a staff photographer for House and Garden under art editor Alexander Liberman. Although Kertész was well paid, the steady work left him frustrated, in part because it left him little time to pursue his personal projects.

He quit Condé Nast in 1962 and soon achieved the public notice and favourable critical reception that had eluded him since his move to the U.S. A solo exhibition at the New York Museum of Modern Art (1964–65), a Guggenheim fellowship (1974), and a retrospective at the Pompidou Centre in Paris (1977–78) were among the honours that ensued. During the 1970s his images, offered by New York’s Light Gallery in limited-edition portfolios, helped launch the photography market for private collectors.

Kertész continued to make expressive and deeply personal images. He often photographed with a telephoto lens from his apartment overlooking Washington Square. Beginning in 1978, he used a Polaroid camera to create a major series that combined still life with views from his windows and paid homage to his wife, who had died in 1977.

Kertész had major exhibitions at the Israel Museum, Jerusalem (1980), the Stedelijk Museum, Amsterdam (1983), and the Art Institute of Chicago and the Museo Nacional de Bellas Artes, Buenos Aires (both 1985). Posthumous exhibitions of his work include traveling retrospectives organized by the National Gallery of Art, Washington, D.C. (2005), and the Jeu de Paume, Paris (2010). His books include On Reading (1971), André Kertész: Sixty Years of Photography, 1912–1972 (1972), J’aime Paris: Photographs Since the Twenties (1974), and Kertész on Kertész: A Self-Portrait (1985).

Kertész died at age 91 after one of the longest and most-prolific careers in photography. He took perhaps more iconic photographs than any other modern photographer. His instantly recognizable images include Underwater Swimmer (1917), Wandering Violinist (1921), Chez Mondrian (1926), Satiric Dancer (1926), Fork (1928), Meudon (1928), Clock of the Académie Française (1929), Washington Square (1954), and Martinique (1972).

Patricia Albers

Andre Kertesz. Circus, Budapest, 19 May 1920

Henri Cartier-Bresson
Henri Cartier-Bresson, (born August 22, 1908, Chanteloup, France—died August 3, 2004, Céreste), French photographer whose humane, spontaneous photographs helped establish photojournalism as an art form. His theory that photography can capture the meaning beneath outward appearance in instants of extraordinary clarity is perhaps best expressed in his book Images à la sauvette (1952; The Decisive Moment).

Cartier-Bresson was born and attended school in a village not far from Paris. In 1927–28 he studied in Paris with André Lhote, an artist and critic associated with the Cubist movement. Lhote implanted in him a lifelong interest in painting, a crucial factor in the education of his vision. In 1929 Cartier-Bresson went to the University of Cambridge, where he studied literature and painting.

As a boy, Cartier-Bresson had been initiated into the mysteries of the simple “Brownie” snapshot camera. But his first serious concern with the medium occurred about 1930, after seeing the work of two major 20th-century photographers, Eugène Atget and Man Ray. Making use of a small allowance, he traveled in Africa in 1931, where he lived in the bush, recording his experiences with a miniature camera. There he contracted blackwater fever, necessitating his return to France. The portability of a small camera and the ease with which one could record instantaneous impressions must have struck a sympathetic chord, for in 1933 he purchased his first 35-mm Leica. The use of this type of camera was particularly relevant to Cartier-Bresson. It lent itself not only to spontaneity but to anonymity as well. So much did Cartier-Bresson wish to remain a silent, and even unseen, witness, that he covered the bright chromium parts of his camera with black tape to render it less visible, and he sometimes hid the camera under a handkerchief. The man was similarly reticent about his life and work.

In more than 40 years as a photographer, Cartier-Bresson wandered continually around the world. But there was nothing compulsive about his travels, and he explicitly expressed a desire to move slowly, to “live on proper terms” in each country, to take his time, so that he became totally immersed in the environment.

In 1937 Cartier-Bresson produced a documentary film, his first, on medical aid in the Spanish Civil War. The date also marked his first reportage photographs made for newspapers and magazines. His enthusiasm for filmmaking was further gratified when, from 1936 to 1939, he worked as an assistant to the film director Jean Renoir in the production of Une Partie de campagne (A Day in the Country) and La Règle du jeu (The Rules of the Game). As a photographer he felt indebted to the great films he saw as a youth. They taught him, he said, to choose precisely the expressive moment, the telling viewpoint. The importance he gave to sequential images in still photography may be attributed to his preoccupation with film.

In 1940, during World War II, Cartier-Bresson was taken prisoner by the Germans. He escaped in 1943 and the following year participated in a French underground photographic unit assigned to record the German occupation and retreat. In 1945 he made a film for the U.S. Office of War Information, Le Retour, which dealt with the return to France of released prisoners of war and deportees.

Though Cartier-Bresson’s photographs had been exhibited in 1933 in the prestigious Julien Levy Gallery in New York City, a more important tribute was paid to him in 1947, when a one-man exhibition was held in that city’s Museum of Modern Art. In that same year, Cartier-Bresson, in partnership with the U.S. photographer Robert Capa and others, founded the cooperative photo agency known as Magnum Photos. The organization offered periodicals global coverage by some of the most talented photojournalists of the time. Under the aegis of Magnum, Cartier-Bresson concentrated more than ever on reportage photography. The following three years found him in India, China, Indonesia, and Egypt. This material and more, taken in the 1950s in Europe, formed the subjects of several books published between 1952 and 1956. Such publications helped considerably to establish Cartier-Bresson’s reputation as a master of his craft. One of them, and perhaps the best known, Images à la sauvette, contains what is probably Cartier-Bresson’s most comprehensive and important statement on the meaning, technique, and utility of photography. The title refers to a central idea in his work—the decisive moment—the elusive instant when, with brilliant clarity, the appearance of the subject reveals in its essence the significance of the event of which it is a part, the most telling organization of forms. Later books include Cartier-Bresson’s France (1971), The Face of Asia (1972), and About Russia (1974).

He was singularly honoured by his own country in 1955, when a retrospective exhibition of 400 of his photographs was held at the Museum of Decorative Arts in Paris and was then displayed in Europe, the United States, and Japan before the photographs were finally deposited in the Bibliothèque Nationale (National Library) in Paris. In 1963 he photographed in Cuba; in 1963–64, in Mexico; and in 1965, in India. The French filmmaker Louis Malle recalled that, during the student revolt in Paris in May 1968, Cartier-Bresson appeared with his 35-mm camera and, despite the explosive activities, took photographs at the rate of only about four per hour.

In the late 1960s Cartier-Bresson began to concentrate on making motion pictures—including Impressions of California (1969) and Southern Exposures (1971). He believed that still photography and its use in pictorial magazines was, to a large extent, being superseded by television. On principle, he always avoided developing his own prints, convinced that the technical exigencies of photography were a harmful distraction. Similarly, he directed the shooting of films and did not wield the camera himself. With this medium, however, he was no longer able to work unobtrusively by himself. Cartier-Bresson devoted his later years to drawing.

His Leica—his notebook, as he called it—accompanied him wherever he went, and, consistent with his training as a painter, he always carried a small sketch pad. There was for Cartier-Bresson a kind of social implication in the camera. To his mind, photography provided a means, in an increasingly synthetic epoch, for preserving the real and humane world.

Aaron Scharf

Henri Cartier-Bresson. Photograph of Alberto Giacometti

Erich Salomon
Erich Salomon, (born April 28, 1886, Berlin, Ger.—died July 7, 1944, Auschwitz, Pol.), pioneering German photojournalist who is best known for his candid photographs of statesmen and celebrities.

Salomon’s early interests included carpentry and zoology. He received a doctorate in law from the University of Munich, but he practiced law only briefly. His career as a freelance photographer began in 1928, when he bought an Ermanox, one of the first miniature cameras equipped with a high-speed lens, which enabled him to photograph in dim light. He concealed this camera in an attaché case and secretly took photographs of a sensational murder trial. These sold so well to news periodicals that he became a professional photojournalist. He began to specialize in photographing international conferences and social gatherings of heads of state, with the intention of showing the human qualities of world leaders who were usually only captured in stiff, formal portraits. Working inconspicuously, he especially enjoyed catching the leaders’ unguarded moments of fatigue, delight, or disgust. His uncanny ability to capture private moments prompted Aristide Briand, 11-time premier of France, to call him “the king of indiscretion.” Salomon’s presence at state functions eventually became customary, however, and Briand later stated that nobody would believe a meeting was important unless Salomon photographed it. Salomon’s informal, spontaneous style had a lasting influence on the way photojournalists captured famous figures.

Salomon visited England in 1929 and the United States in 1930, photographing prominent persons of both countries. In 1931 he published Berühmte Zeitgenossen in unbewachten Augenblicken (“Celebrated Contemporaries in Unguarded Moments”), a collection of his photographs of more than 170 celebrities.

Because he was Jewish, Salomon went into hiding in the Netherlands during World War II, but he was finally betrayed by a Dutch Nazi. In May 1944 he was sent to the concentration camp at Auschwitz, where he died.

Erich Salomon. Marlene Dietrich in Hollywood telephones her daughter in Berlin, 1930

Robert Capa
Robert Capa, original name (Hungarian form) Friedmann Endre Ernő (born 1913, Budapest, Hungary—died May 25, 1954, Thai Binh, Vietnam), photographer whose images of war made him one of the greatest photojournalists of the 20th century.

Capa, Robert [Credit: London Express/Hulton Archive/Getty Images]In 1931 and 1932 Capa worked for Dephot, a German picture agency, before establishing himself in Paris, where he assumed the name Robert Capa. He first achieved fame as a war correspondent in the Spanish Civil War. By 1936 his mature style fully emerged in grim, close-up views of death such as Loyalist Soldier, Spain. Such immediate images embodied Capa’s famous saying, “If your pictures aren’t good enough, then you aren’t close enough.” In World War II he covered much of the heaviest fighting in Africa, Sicily, and Italy for Life magazine, and his photographs of the Normandy Invasion became some of the most memorable of the war.

After being sworn in as a United States citizen in 1946, Capa in 1947 joined with the photographers Henri Cartier-Bresson and David (“Chim”) Seymour to found Magnum Photos, the first cooperative agency of international freelance photographers. Although he covered the fighting in Palestine in 1948, most of Capa’s time was spent guiding newer members of Magnum and selling their work. He served as the director of the Magnum office in Paris from 1950 to 1953. In 1954 Capa volunteered to photograph the French Indochina War for Life and was killed by a land mine while on assignment. His untimely death helped establish his posthumous reputation as a quintessentially fearless photojournalist. Publications featuring his photographs include Death in the Making (1937), Slightly Out of Focus (1947), Images of War (1964), Children of War, Children of Peace (1991), and Robert Capa: Photographs (1996).

Robert Capa. Leipzig, Dr. jur. Ernst Kurt Lisso's suicide.

David Seymour
David Seymour, original name David Szymin, pseudonym Chim (born November 20, 1911, Warsaw, Poland, Russian Empire [now in Poland]—died November 10, 1956, near Suez Canal, Egypt), Polish-born American photojournalist who is best known for his empathetic pictures of people, especially children.

Seymour studied graphic arts in Warsaw and in 1931 went to Paris to study at the Sorbonne, where he became interested in photography. During this period he befriended the photographers Robert Capa and Henri Cartier-Bresson, and he took the name “Chim,” adapted from his surname, Szymin (he would change his surname to Seymour when he immigrated to the United States). In the late 1930s he covered many important political events. His pictures of the Spanish Civil War, particularly those that portrayed the impact of the war on the civilians of Barcelona, received widespread attention and were published in magazines such as Regards and Life.

After coming to the United States in 1939, he served in the U.S. Army as a photo interpreter for three years. In 1947 he founded the influential Magnum Photos cooperative agency, along with Capa, Cartier-Bresson, and others. The group formed in order to have control over their own assignments and to retain copyrights over their own negatives. The next year, on assignment for the United Nations Educational and Scientific Organization (UNESCO), Seymour photographed children who had been physically and spiritually damaged by the war, creating powerful, unforgettable images. The project was later turned into a critically acclaimed book called Children of Europe (1949). From then until his death he traveled extensively in Europe and Israel on assignments for various publications. He was killed while covering the Arab-Israeli war.

Other books of Seymour’s photographs include The Vatican (1950), with text by Ann Carnahan, and David Seymour (“Chim”) (1966).

David Seymour.
A Disturbed Child in a Warsaw
Orphanage, 1948, by Chim.

Photojournalism—War Reportage

In the United States in the late 1930s. Life magazine, which had evolved from ideas and experiences tested in Europe even though it was itself quintessentially American, came to represent a paradigm of photojournalism. For its concept, Life, a publication of Henry Luce, drew upon many sources. In addition to the example of the European picture weeklies, it took into account the popularity of cinema newsreels, in particular The March of Time with which the Luce publishing enterprise was associated. The successes of Luce's other publications—the cryptically written Time and the lavishly produced Fortune, with its extensive use of photographic illustration to give essays on American industrialism an attractive gloss—also were factors in the decision to launch a serious picture weekly that proposed to humanize through photography the complex political and social issues of the time for a mass audience. Following Life's debut in 1936, with a handsome industrial image of the gigantic concrete structure of Fort Peck Dam by Margaret Bourke-White on its first cover, the weekly demonstrated that through selection, arrangement, and captioning, photographs could, in the words of its most influential picture editor, Wilson Hicks, "lend themselves to something of the same manipulation as words." Vivid images, well printed on large-size pages of coated stock, attracted a readership that mounted to three million within the magazine's first three years. Life was followed by other weeklies with a similar approach, among them Look and Holiday in the United States, Picture Post, Heute, Paris Match, and Der Spiegel in Europe.

The first ten years of Life coincided with the series of conflicts in Africa, Asia, and Europe that eventually turned into the second World War. Not surprisingly, between 1936 and 1945 images of strife in Abyssinia, China, France, Italy, the Soviet Union, and remote Pacific islands filled the pages of the magazine; for the first time, worldwide audiences were provided a front-row seat to observe global conflicts. In response to the insatiable demand for dramatic pictures and despite censorship imposed by military authorities or occasioned by the magazine's own particular editorial policy, war images displayed a definite style, dianks in part to new, efficient camera equipment. The opportunity to convince isolation-prone Americans of the evils of Fascism undoubtedly was a factor in the intense feeling evident in a number of the images by European photojournalists on the battlefields.

In style, these photographs were influenced both by the precise character of the New Objectivity and by the spontaneity facilitated by the small camera. Eisenstaedt's portrayal of an Ethiopian soldier fighting in puttees and bare feet against Mussolini's army during the Italian con-quest of Abyssinia in 1935 focuses on an unusual and poignant detail to suggest the tragedy of the unprepared Abyssinians confronting a ruthless, well-equipped army. May Daw Barcelona by Chim (David Seymoun conveys through harsh contrast and the facial expression of the woman looking upward the intensity with which the Spanish people greeted the insurrection of the exiled government that led to the Spanish Civil War.

MARGARET BOURKE-WHITE. Fort Peck Dam, Montana, 1936.
First cover of Life Magazine, November 23, 1936.

CHIM (DAVID SEYMOUR). May Day, Barcelona, 1936.
Gelatin silver print.


Chim (pronounced shim) was the pseudonym of David Seymour (November 20, 1911 – November 10, 1956), an American photographer and photojournalist. Born David Szymin in Warsaw to Polish Jewish parents, he became interested in photography while studying in Paris. He began working as a freelance journalist in 1933.
Chim's coverage of the Spanish Civil War, Czechoslovakia and other European events established his reputation. He was particularly known for his poignant treatment of people, especially children. In 1939 he documented the journey of Loyalist Spanish refugees to Mexico and was in New York when World War II broke out. In 1940 he enlisted in the United States Army, serving in Europe as a photo interpreter during the war. He became a naturalized citizen of the United States in 1942, the same year that his parents were killed by the Nazis. After the war, he returned to Europe to document the plight of refugee children for UNESCO.
Sometime after D-Day, Chim met Life (magazine)'s Paris Bureau Head Will Lang Jr. and had lunch with him at a cafe' in the Bois de Boulogne in Paris, France. Alongside with him that day was reporter Dida Comacho and photographer Yale Joel.
In 1947, Chim co-founded the Magnum Photos photography cooperative, together with Robert Capa and Henri Cartier-Bresson, whom he had befriended in 1930s Paris. Chim's reputation for his compelling photos of war orphans was complemented by his later work in photographing Hollywood celebrities such as Sophia Loren, Kirk Douglas, Ingrid Bergman, and Joan Collins.
After Capa's death in 1954, Chim became president of Magnum Photos. He held the post until November 10, 1956, when he was killed (together with French photographer Jean Roy) by Egyptian machine-gun fire, while covering the armistice of the 1956 Suez War.

An even more famous image of that conflict is Death of a Loyalist Soldier (pi. no. 606) by Robert Capa, a Hungarian-born photojournalist whose images of the Civil War appeared in Vu, Picture Post, and, in 1938, in a book entitled Death in the Making. At the time, Capa's views of civilians, soldiers, and bombed ruins seemed to sum up the shocking irrationality of war; the photographer also established the mystique of the photojournalist's commitment to being part of the action being recorded. While Capa quipped that he preferred to "remain unemployed as a war photographer," he held that "if your pictures aren't good enough you're not close enough." Eventually he found himself photographing the invasion of Normandy on D-Day for Life; he died in 1954 on a battlefield in Indochina, where he was killed by a landmine—a fate similar to that of several other photojournalists who photographed war action.

Bourke-White, Lee Miller, Carl Mydans, George Rodger, George Silk, and W. Eugene Smith, among other Allied photojournalists, were active on various fronts during World War II, and photographers in the Armed Services also provided coverage. Despite hesitation on the part of army brass to show the full extent of war's suffering and death and despite their preference for uplifting imagery, photographs that the American photojournalist Smith (see Profile) made during the Pacific campaign express compassion for the victimized, whether combatants or civilians, who are caught up in incomprehensible circumstances. This attitude continued to be a leitmotif of the imagery made by Western Europeans and Americans during the second World War and its aftermath. It is visible in the work of David Douglas Duncan in Korea, Philip Jones Griffiths in Vietnam, Romano Cagnoni in Cambodia and Pakistan, and Donald McCullin in Vietnam, Cyprus, and Africa, to name only a few of the many photojournalists reporting the struggles that continued to erupt in the less-industrialized parts of the world. At times, these photographers relieved the grimness of events by concentrating on the picturesque aspects of a scene, exemplified by Duncan's image of the Turkish cavalry in the snow, in which small figures disposed over the flattened white ground bring to mind Ottoman miniatures rather than contemporary warfare.

The work of Polish and Russian photographers on the Eastern Front in World War II has become better known in the West during the past two decades. Galina Sanko's corpses and Dmitri Baltermants's Identifying the Dead, Russian Front portray the victims with sorrow, but Soviet war photographers also celebrated victories, as in Yevgeny Khaldey's raising of the flag. Reportage of the liberation of Paris by Albert and Jean Seeberger captures determination, heroism, and fear. In general, German and Japanese photographs of the war emphasize feats by native soldiers and civilians, but images of the aftermath of the atom bombing of Nagasaki by the United States Air Force, taken by the Japanese army photographer Yosuke Yamahata, are entirely different. First brought to light some 40 years after the event, these gruesome images—divested of any nationality—are emblems of a nuclear tragedy that had the potential to efface humanitv everywhere.

ROBERT CAPA. Death of a Loyalist Soldier, 1936.
Gelatin silver print.


Robert Capa (Budapest, October 22, 1913 – May 25, 1954) was a 20th century combat photographer who covered five different wars: the Spanish Civil War, the Second Sino-Japanese War, World War II across Europe, the 1948 Arab-Israeli War, and the First Indochina War. He documented the course of World War II in London, North Africa, Italy, the Battle of Normandy on Omaha Beach and the liberation of Paris. Capa's younger brother, Cornell Capa, is also a photographer.
Born in Budapest, Austria-Hungary in 1913 as Endre Ernő Friedmann, Capa left the country in 1932 after being arrested because of his political involvement with protestors against the government (his parents had encouraged him to settle elsewhere).

Capa originally wanted to be a writer; however, he found work in photography in Berlin and grew to love the art. In 1933, he moved from Germany to France because of the rise of Nazism (he was Jewish), but found it difficult to find work there as a freelance journalist. He adopted the name "Robert Capa" around this time because he felt that it would be recognizable and American-sounding since it was similar to that of film director Frank Capra.
From 1936 to 1939, he was in Spain, photographing the horrors of the Spanish Civil War. In 1936 he became known across the globe for a photo he took on the Cordoba Front of a Loyalist Militiaman who had just been shot and was in the act of falling to his death. Because of his proximity to the victim and the timing of the capture, there was a long controversy about the authenticity of this photograph. A Spanish historian identified the dead soldier as Federico Borrell García, from Alcoi (Valencia). There is a second photograph showing another soldier who fell on the same spot.
Many of Capa's photographs of the Spanish Civil War were, for many decades, presumed lost, but surfaced in Mexico City in the late 1990s. While fleeing Europe in 1939, Capa had lost the collection, which over time came to be dubbed the "Mexican suitcase". Ownership of the collection was transferred to the Capa Estate, and in December, 2007, moved to the International Center of Photography, a museum founded by Capa's younger brother Cornell in Manhattan.

At the start of World War II, Capa was in New York City. He had moved there from Paris to look for new work and to escape Nazi persecution. The war took Capa to various parts of the European Theatre on photography assignments. He first photographed for Collier's Weekly, before switching to Life after he was fired by the former. When first hired, he was a citizen of Hungary, but he was also Jewish, which allowed him to negotiate visas to Europe. He was the only "enemy alien" photographer for the Allies. On October 7, 1943, Robert Capa was in Naples with Life reporter Will Lang Jr. and photographed the Naples post office bombing.
His most famous work occurred on June 6, 1944 (D-Day) when he swam ashore with the second assault wave on Omaha Beach. He was armed with two Contax II cameras mounted with 50 mm lenses and several rolls of spare film. Capa took 106 pictures in the first couple of hours of the invasion. However, a staff member at Life made a mistake in the darkroom; he set the dryer too high and melted the emulsion in the negatives. Only eleven frames in total were recovered.

Although a fifteen-year-old lab assistant named Dennis Banks was responsible for the accident, another account, now largely accepted as untrue but which gained widespread currency, blamed Larry Burrows, who worked in the lab not as a technician but as a "tea-boy". Life magazine printed 10 of the frames in its June 19, 1944 issue with captions that described the footage as "slightly out of focus", explaining that Capa's hands were shaking in the excitement of the moment (something which he denied). Capa used this phrase as the title of his alternately hilarious and sad autobiographical account of the war, Slightly Out of Focus.
In 1947 Capa traveled into the Soviet Union with his friend, writer John Steinbeck. He took photos in Moscow, Kiev, Tbilisi, Batumi and among the ruins of Stalingrad. The humorous reportage of Steinbeck, A Russian Journal was illustrated with Capa's photos. It was first published in 1948.
In 1947, Capa founded Magnum Photos with Henri Cartier-Bresson, William Vandivert, David Seymour, and George Rodger. In 1951, he became the president.

In the early 1950s, Capa traveled to Japan for an exhibition associated with Magnum Photos. While there, Life magazine asked him to go on assignment to Southeast Asia, where the French had been fighting for eight years in the First Indochina War. Despite the fact he had sworn not to photograph another war a few years earlier, Capa accepted and accompanied a French regiment with two other Time-Life journalists, John Mecklin and Jim Lucas. On May 25, 1954 at 2:55 p.m., the regiment was passing through a dangerous area under fire when Capa decided to leave his jeep and go up the road to photograph some of the advance. About five minutes later, Mecklin and Lucas heard a loud explosion. Capa had stepped on a landmine. When they arrived on the scene he was still alive, but his left leg had been blown to pieces and he had a serious wound in his chest. Mecklin screamed for a medic and Capa's body was taken to a small field hospital where he was pronounced dead on arrival. He had died with his camera in his hand.

ROBERT CAPA. Normandy Invasion, June 6,1944.
Gelatin silver print.

W. EUGENE SMITH. Marines under Fire, Saipan, 1943.
Gelatin silver print.

DAVID DOUGLAS DUNCAN. "Black Avni" Turkish Cavalry on Maneuvers, 1948.
Gelatin silver print. Collection Nina Abrams, New York.


David Douglas Duncan (born January 23, 1916) is an American photojournalist and among the most influential photographers of the 20th Century. He is best known for his dramatic combat photographs.
Duncan was born in Kansas City, Missouri, where his childhood was marked with interest in the outdoors, which helped him obtain the rank of Eagle Scout in the Boy Scouts at a relatively young age. Duncan briefly attended the University of Arizona, where he studied archaeology. While in Tucson, he inadvertently photographed John Dillinger trying to get into a hotel. Duncan eventually continued his education at the University of Miami, where he graduated in 1938, having studied zoology and Spanish. It was in Miami that his interest in photojournalism piqued. He served as picture editor and photographer of the university paper.

His career as a photojournalist had its origin when he took photographs of a hotel fire in Tucson, Arizona where he was then studying archaeology at the University of Arizona. His photos included one of a hotel guest who made repeated attempts to go back into the burning building for his suitcase. That photo proved to be newsworthy when the guest turned out to have been notorious bank robber John Dillinger and the suitcase to have contained the proceeds of a bank robbery in which he had shot a police officer.

After college, Duncan was commissioned as an officer in the US Marines and became a combat photographer. After brief postings in California and Hawaii, he was sent to the South Pacific on assignment when the United States entered World War II. Though combat photographers are often close to the action, they rarely fight. However, in a brief engagement at Bougainville Island, Duncan found himself fighting against the Japanese. Duncan would later be on board the USS Missouri during the Japanese surrender.

His war time photographs were so impressive that, after the war, he was hired by Life to join their staff upon the urging of J.R. Eyerman, Life's chief photographer. During his time with Life he covered many events including the end of the British Raj in India and conflicts in Turkey, Eastern Europe, Africa and the Middle East.
Perhaps his most famous photographs were taken during the Korean War. He compiled many of his photos into a book called This Is War! (1951), with the proceeds going to widows and children of Marines who had been killed in the conflict. Duncan is considered to be the most prominent combat photographer of the Korean War.
In the Vietnam War, Duncan would eventually compile two additional books I Protest! (1968) and War Without Heroes (1970). Here, Duncan stepped out of his role as a neutral photographer and challenged how the US government was handling the war.
Aside from his combat photographs, Duncan is also known for his photographs of Pablo Picasso to whom he had been introduced by fellow photographer Robert Capa. Eventually, he was to publish seven books of photographs of Picasso.
In 1966 he published Yankee Nomad a visual autobiography that collected representative photographs from throughout his career. In 2003 this was revised and published under the title of Photo Nomad.


ROMANO CAGNONI. East Pakistan: Villagers Welcoming Liberation Forces, 1971,
Gelatin silver print.

DONALD McCULLIN. Congolese Soldiers Ill-Treating Prisoners Awaiting Death in Stanleyville, 1964.
Gelatin silver print.

GALINA SANKO. Fallen German Soldiers on Russian Front, 1941.
Gelatin silver print. Sovfoto Magazine and VAAP, Moscow.

DMITRI BALTERMANTS. Identifying the Dead, Russian Front, 1942.
Gelatin silver print. Courtesy Citizen Exchange Council, New York.

ALBERT and JEAN SEEBURGER. Exchange of Fire at the Place de la Concorde, 1944.
Gelatin silver print. Zabriskic Gallery, New York.

Postwar Photojournalism

Photographs reproduced in Life, Look, and other picture journals from 1936 on were by no means solely concerned with war and destruction. The peripatetic photojournalist, pictured in a self-portrait by Andreas Feininger as an odd-looking creature of indeterminate sex, age, and nationality with camera lenses for eyes, roamed widely during the mid-century flowering of print journalism. Through photographs, readers of picture weeklies became more conscious of the immensity of human resources and of the varied forms of social conduct in remote places of the globe, even though these cultures ordinarily were seen from the point of view of Western capitalist society.

Readers also were introduced to the immensely useful role played by photographs of the scientific aspects of ani-mal and terrestrial life. By including the rnicrophotographs by Roman Vishniac and Fritz Goro (both emigres to the United States from Hitler's Germany), as well as views taken through telescopes and from airborne vehicles, the magazine expanded knowledge of the sciences generally and provided arresting visual imagery in monochrome and color, which helped prepare the public to accept similar visual abstractions in artistic photography.

In its efforts to encompass global happenings, Life included picture stories of the Soviet Union. Taken by Bourke-White, they brought American magazine readers their first glimpse of a largely unknown society. Later, the mysteries of existence in more remote places were revealed by an array of photographers, including the Swiss photo-journalists Werner Bischof, Rene Burri, and Ernst Haas and the French photographers Henri Cartier-Bresson and Marc Riboud, all of whom aimed their cameras at life in the Far East. Outstanding images of the hinterlands of South America and India were contributed by Bischof, and of subequatorial Africa by Cagnoni, Rodger, Lennart Nilsson, and, in the 1960s, McCullin. With the need for photographic essays expanding rapidly, picture agencies became even more significant dian before, leading to the establishment of new enterprises in the field, including a number of photographers' collaboratives. The best known, Magnum, was founded in 1947 by Robert Capa, Cartier-Bresson, Chim, and Rodger. Gathering bits and pieces of lively "color," these post-war photoreporters and their editors reflected the popular yearning in the West for "one world," an understandable response to the divisiveness of the war. The stability of tradition seen in Constantine Manos's image of Greek villagers pulling a boat and the starding contrast of old and new in BischoPs India: Jamshedpur Steel Factory are but two examples of recurrent themes. Editors and photographers working for periodicals seemed to agree with the pronouncement that "the most important service photography can render" is to record human relations and "explain man to man" and man to himself. This benign idea, which ignored political and social antagonism on both domestic and foreign fronts, was the theme of The Family of Man, a highly praised exhibition and publication consisting largely of journalistic images. Organized by Edward Steichen in 1955, shortly after he became director of the Department of Photography at the Museum of Modern Art in New York, the exhibition comprised 508 photographs from 68 countries, treated as if in a three-dimensional picture magazine— enlarged, reduced, and fitted into a layout designed by Steichen in collaboration with photographer Wayne Miller and architect Paul Rudolph, ostensibly to celebrate the "essential oneness of mankind throughout the world." Photographers whose work was displayed in The Family of Man had no control over size, quality of print (all were processed in commercial laboratories), or the context in which their work was shown, an approach that Steichen had adopted from prevailing magazine practice.

An essential aspect often overlooked in photojournalism has been the relationship between editorial policy and the individual photographer, especially in stories dealing with sensitive issues. Whereas underlying humanist attitudes sometimes provide a common ground for editor and photographer, the latter still has to submit to editorial decisions regarding selection, cropping, and captioning. That the photographer's intended meaning might be neutralized or perverted by lack of sufficient time to explore less accessible facets of the situation or by editorial intervention in the sequencing and captioning is illustrated by Smith's experiences at Life. His numerous picture essays— of which "Spanish Village", photographed in 1950 and published on April 19, 1951, is an example— gave Life a vivid yet compassionate dimension, but the photographer's battle for enough time to shoot and for control over the way his work was used was continual, ending with Smith's resignation in 1954.

Toward the mid-1960s, as newsmagazines went out of business or used fewer stories, it became apparent that photojournalism in print was being supplanted by electronic pictures—by television. In 1967, the Fund for Concerned Photography (later the International Center of Photography) was founded to recognize the contributions made by humanistic journalism during the heyday of the picture weeklies. This endeavor, initiated by Cornell Capa brother of Robert and himself a freelance photojournalist of repute), celebrated the efforts of "concerned photographers"—initially Bischof, Robert Capa, Leonard Freed, Kertesz, Chim, and Dan Weiner—to link photo-journalistic images with the humanistic social documentary tradition established by Jacob Riis, Lewis Hine, and the Farm Security Administration photographers. Involving exhibitions, publications, and an educational wing, the center has since broadened its activities to include photographers whose humanism reveals itself through images of artifacts and nature.

RENE BURRI. Tien An Men Square, Beijing, 1965.
Gelatin silver print.

ANDREAS FEININGER. The Photojournalist, 1955.
Gelatin silver print.


Andreas Bernhard Lyonel Feininger (27 December 1906 - 18 February 1999) was a French-born American photographer, and writer on photographic technique, noted for his dynamic black-and-white scenes of Manhattan and studies of the structure of natural objects.
Born in Paris, France, from an American family of German origin. His father, painter Lyonel Feininger, was born in New York City, in 1871. His great-grandfather emigrated from Durlach, Baden, in Germany, towards United States in 1848.
Feininger grew up and was educated as an architect in Germany, where his father painted and taught at Bauhaus. In 1936, he gave up architecture itself, moved to Sweden, and focused on photography. In advance of World War II, in 1939, Feininger immigrated to the U.S. where he established himself as a freelance photographer and in 1943 joined the staff of Life magazine, an association that lasted until 1962.
Feininger became famous for his photographs of New York. Science and nature, as seen in bones, shells, plants and minerals, were other frequent subjects, but rarely did he photograph people or make portraits. Feininger wrote comprehensive manuals about photography, of which the best known is The Complete Photographer. In the introduction to one of Feininger's books of photographs, Ralph Hattersley described him as "one of the great architects who helped create photography as we know it today." In 1966, the American Society of Media Photographers (ASMP) awarded Feininger its highest distinction, the Robert Leavitt Award. In 1991, the International Center of Photography awarded Feininger the Infinity Lifetime Achievement Award.

CONSTANTINE MANOS. Beaching a Fishing Boat, Karpathos, Greece, c. 1965.
Gelatin silver print.

WERNER BISCHOF. India: Jamshedpur Steel Factory, 1951.
Gelatin silver print.

Small-Camera Photography in the 1930s

Initially devoted to conveying fact and psychological nuance in news events, the small camera began to appeal to European photographers as an instrument of perceptive personal expression as well. Indeed, the photographs made by Kertesz and Cartier-Bresson during the 1930s suggest that it is not always possible to separate self-motivated from assigned work in terms of style and treatment. Kertesz saw his work exhibited as art photography at the same time that was being reproduced in periodicals in Germany and France. What is more, his unusual sensitivity to moments of intense feeling and his capacity to organize the elements of a scene into an arresting visual structure (see Chapter 9) inspired both Cartier-Bresson and Brassai (Gyula Halasz) in their choices of theme and treatment.

Cartier-Bresson approached photography, whether made for himself or in the course of assignments for Vu and other periodicals, with intellectual and artistic attitudes summed up in his concept of the "decisive moment." This way of working requires an interrelationship of eye, body, and mind that intuitively recognizes the moment when formal and psychological elements within the visual field take on enriched meanings. For example, in Place de l'Europe, Paris one recognizes the ordinary and somewhat humorous gesture of a hurrying person trying to avoid wetting his feet in a street flood, but the picture also involves a visual pun about shadow and substance, life and art. It illustrates (though it hardly exhausts) the photographer's claim that "photography is the simultaneous recognition, in a fraction of a second, of the significance of an event as well as of a precise organization of forms which give the event its proper expression."

Brassai, a former painting student transplanted from Hungary to Paris in 1923, found himself mesmerized by the city at night and, on Kertesz's suggestion, began to use a camera (a 6.5 x 9 cm Voigtlander Bergheil) to capture the nocturnal life at bars, brothels, and on the streets. By turns piquant, satiric, and enigmatic, Brassai's images for this project display a sensitive handling of light and atmosphere, whether of fog-enshrouded avenues or harshly illuminated bars, and they reveal the photographer's keen sense for the moment when gesture and expression add a poignant dimension to the scene.

Interesting in comparison with the subtle suggestive-ness of Brassai's voyeurism evident in Pat-is de Nuit (Paris by Night) (1933) is the stridency of the images included in Naked City, a 1936 publication of photographs, many made at night, by the American photographer Weegee (Arthur Fellig). This brash but observant freelance news-paper photographer, who pursued sensationalist news stories with a large press camera, approached scenes of everyday life—and of violence and death—with uncommon feeling and wit. Exemplified by The Critic (pi. no. 624), his work transcends the superficial character of most daily photoreportage.

Virtually all subsequent 35mm photography was influenced by Carrier-Bresson's formulation of the "decisive moment." In France, heirs to this concept include Robert Doisneau, Willy Ronis, Izis (Bidermanas), and Edouard Boubat—all active photojournalists during the 1940s and later, whose individual styles express their unique sensibilities. Doisneau, who gave up a career in commercial and fashion photography late in 1940 to devote himself to depicting life in the street, has brought a delightful and humane humor to his goal of celebrating individuality in the face of encroaching standardization of product and behavior. The work of Ronis and Izis is lyrical and romantic, while Boubafs images, made during the course of numerous assignments in foreign countries for Realties and Paris Match, are tender and touching.

HENRI CARTIER-BRESSON. Place de I'Europe, Paris, 1932.
Gelatin silver print.


Henri Cartier-Bresson (August 22, 1908 – August 3, 2004) was a French photographer considered to be the father of modern photojournalism, an early adopter of 35 mm format, and the master of candid photography. He helped develop the "street photography" style that has influenced generations of photographers that followed.
Cartier-Bresson was born in Chanteloup-en-Brie, near Paris, France, the eldest of five children. His father was a wealthy textile manufacturer whose Cartier-Bresson thread was a staple of French sewing kits. He also sketched in his spare time. His mother's family were cotton merchants and landowners from Normandy, where he spent part of his childhood. The Cartier-Bresson family lived in a bourgeois neighborhood in Paris, near the Europe Bridge, and provided him with financial support to develop his interests in photography in a more independent manner than many of his contemporaries.

HENRI CARTIER-BRESSON. Henri Matisse, Vence, 1944.
Gelatin silver print.

HENRI CARTIER-BRESSON. Sunday on the Banks of the Marne, 1938.
Gelatin silver print.

BRASSAI. Avenue de I'Observatoire (Paris in the Fog at Night), 1934.
Gelatin silver print. Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York; Warner Communications, Inc., Purchase Fund, 1980.


(b Brasso, Transylvania, Hungary [now Romania], 9 Sept 1899; d Nice, 8 July 1984).

French photographer, draughtsman, sculptor and writer of Hungarian birth. The son of a Hungarian professor of French literature, he lived in Paris in 1903–4 while his father was on sabbatical there, and this early experience of the city greatly impressed him. In 1917 he met the composer Bйla Bartуk, and from 1918 to 1919 he studied at the Academy of Fine Arts in Budapest. Due to the hostility between Hungary and France in World War I he was unable to study in France and so moved to Berlin in late 1920. There he became acquainted with Lбszlу Moholy-Nagy, Kandinsky and Kokoschka and in 1921–2 attended the Akademische Hochschule in Charlottenburg, Berlin. He was a keen draughtsman and while there produced a series of characteristic drawings of nudes executed in an angular, emphatic style. In 1924 he moved to Paris, where he quickly became involved with the artists and poets of the Montmartre and Montparnasse districts while supporting himself as a journalist. In 1925 he adopted the name Brassaп, derived from that of his native town, and throughout that year he continued drawing as well as making sculptures. In 1926 he met Andrй Kertйsz, who introduced him to photography. In 1930 Brassaп began taking photographs of Paris at night, concentrating on its architecture and the nocturnal activities of its inhabitants. These were collected and published as Paris de nuit in 1933 and showed the night workers, cafйs, brothels, theatres, streets and buildings of the capital. The artificial lighting created strong tonal contrasts, lending the images a strikingly evocative beauty. Some of his photographs were included in the exhibition Modern European Photographers at the Julien Levy Gallery in New York in 1932, and the following year at the Arts et Mйtiers Graphiques in Paris he had a one-man show of his photographs of Paris, which travelled to the Batsford Gallery in London the same year.

BRASSAI. Bijou, Paris, c. 1933.
Gelatin silver print. Marlborough Gallery, New York.

WEEGEE (ARTHUR FELLIG). The Critic (Opening Night at the Opera), 1943.
Gelatin silver print. Museum of Modern Art, New York.


(b Zloczew, Austria [now Poland], 12 June 1899; d New York, 26 Dec 1968).

American photographer of Austrian birth. He emigrated to the USA in 1910 and took numerous odd jobs, including working as an itinerant photographer and as an assistant to a commercial photographer. In 1924 he was hired as a dark-room technician by Acme Newspictures (later United Press International Photos). He left, however, in 1935 to become a freelance photographer. He worked at night and competed with the police to be first at the scene of a crime, selling his photographs to tabloids and photographic agencies. It was at this time that he earned the name Weegee (appropriated from the Ouija board) for his uncanny ability to make such early appearances at scenes of violence and catastrophe.

ROBERT DOISNEAU. Three Children in the Park, 1971.
Gelatin silver print.


(b Gentilly, Val-de-Marne, 14 April 1912; d Paris, 1 April 1994).

French photographer. He attended the Ecole Estienne in Paris (1926–9), where he studied engraving, and after leaving the school he had various jobs designing engraved labels and other items. He found his training of little use, however, and soon began to experiment with photography, teaching himself the techniques. In 1931 he worked as an assistant to the photographer Andrй Vigneau. The following year Doisneau’s series of photographs of a flea market in Paris was published in the periodical Excelsior. His early photographs have many of the features of his mature works: for example the seeming unawareness of the camera shown by the people in Sunday Painter (1932; ) and the comic subject both add to the photograph’s charm, a quality Doisneau valued greatly. In 1934 he obtained a job as an industrial photographer at the Renault factory in Billancourt, Paris, where he was required to take photographs of the factory interior and its machines as well as advertising shots of the finished cars. In the summer of 1939 he was dismissed for being repeatedly late and then worked briefly for the Rapho photographic agency in Paris, producing more photographs of the capital.

IZIS. Place St. Andre des Arts, Paris, 1949.
Gelatin silver print. Zabriskie Gallery, New York.

EDOUARD BOUBAT. Portugal, 1958.
Gelatin silver print. Private collection.

A change in attitude toward the photographic print as a visual artifact accompanied the developments discussed so far. Many photographers, Brandt, Brassai, and Cartier-Bresson among them, refused to consider the photographs they produced as aesthetic objects despite the aesthetic judgments they obviously exercised in making them. The idea, promoted by individuals such as Paul Strand or Edward Weston, that the single print or small edition, sensitively crafted in the individual photographer's dark-room, constituted the paramount standard in expressive photography was challenged when these photographers began to use professional laboratories to process negatives and make prints. With the separation of the act of seecing from the craft of making, there emerged a new aesthetic posture that accepted grainy textures, limited tonal scale, and strong, often harsh contrasts as qualities intrinsic to the photographic medium. This development broughtimages originally meant for reproduction in periodicals into prominence as aesthetic objects—suitable for savoring in books, hanging on walls, or collecting.

Public acceptance of photojournalism influenced the publication of full-length works combining words and pictures. Aside from the elegant, expensive books and portfolios that carried on the tradition of illustrating texts with original photographs, collotypes, or Woodburytypes (discussed in earlier chapters), publishers on both sides of the Atlantic and in Japan during the 1930s and 1940s increasingly used gravure, offset lithography, and halftone plates to reproduce photographs. Frequently organized around popular themes, books such as the several volumes on arts and monuments illustrated by Pierre Jahan treated image and text in a manner similar to that found in the essays in picture magazines. Starting in the 1950s, when photojournalistic as well as artistic photographs began to appear more frequently on gallery and museum walls and in collections, publishers seemed more willing to issue books in which the photographs were their own justification. Almost 25 years separate The World Is Beautiful (1928), by Albert Renger-Patzsch, from Carrier-Bresson's Images a la sauvette (The Decisive Moment) (1952), and in addition to revealing their photographers' antithetical aesthetic ideas and ways of working, the two books represent somewhat different attitudes toward the purpose of photography books. The earlier work utilizes the photograph to point the reader toward concordances of form in nature and industry, whereas The Decisive Moment refers to the intervention of the individual photographer's hand and eye to reveal what Carder-Bresson called "a rhythm in the world of real things." The commercial success of The Decisive Moment indicated to publishers that photogra-phers images were marketable, and this helped encourage a large literature on and about the medium. From the 1960s on, many more tides in photography appeared, issued by such specialized publishers as Aperture and David R. Godine in the United States, and Teriade, Delpire, and later, Creatis and Schirmer Mosel in Europe, several of whom also issued periodicals and works on the aesthetics of the medium.

Pictures in Print: Advertising

It would be difficult to imagine a world without advertising and ads without photographs, but the importance of camera images in this context was not widely recognized before the 1920s. The advertising field itself was young then, and the problems and expense of halftone reproduction effectively limited the use of photographs to sell goods and services. Nor were the visual possibilities of transforming factual camera records into images of seductive suggestibility clearly foreseen. But during the early 1920s the situation began to change. The British journal Commercial Art and Industry noted in 1923 that photography had become "so inexpensive and good" that it should be used more often in ads, and the American trade magazine Printers' Ink pointed out the "astounding improvement in papers, presses and inks." Six years later, die prestigious German printing-arts magazine Gebrauchsgraphik prophesied that the photograph would soon dominate advertising communication and "present an extraordinarily fruitful field to the gifted artist" because whether distorted or truthful., camera images are grounded in reality and are consequently persuasive to buyers. By 1929, advertising had become "the agent of new processes of thought and creation," and photographs would play a central role in this creative upsurge.

The new attitudes were the result of a number of factors. As indicated in the preceding chapter, public taste after World War I tended toward styles that suggested objectivity rather than sentimentality; a popular appetite for machine-made rather than handmade objects had developed; and delight in the cinema as a form of visual communication predisposed the public to accept still photographs in advertising. Most important, the realization that the camera could be both factual and persuasive and could imply authenticity while suggesting certain qualities—manliness, femininity, luxury—made it a desirable tool in this fast-growing and competitive field. In a Utopian effort to make excellence available to all by wiping out the distinctions between fine and applied art and between art and the utilitarian object, Bauhaus and Constructivist artists and photographers had promoted the camera image as a means of transcending these traditional divisions. As a result, many photographers in the 1920s began to ignore the division between self-expression and commercial work that the Pictorialists had been at pains to establish around the turn of the century. The advertising industry in all advanced capitalist countries embraced these concepts from the art world and also predicted that advertising would improve the aesthetic taste of the populace by integrating the latest modern ideas into visual communication.

During the 1930s, many photographers of stature produced images for commerce. Herbert Bayer, Cecil Beaton, Laure Albin-Guillot, Man Ray, Moholy-Nagy, Paul Outerbridge, Charles Sheeler, Steichen, and Maurice Tabard were among those eager to work on commission for magazines, advertising agencies, and manufacturers at the same time that they photographed for themselves and were honored as creative individuals by critics. A number — including Hans Finsler, Bourke-White, Anton Bruehl, Victor Keppler, and Nickolas Muray—worked almost exclusively in the advertising field, convinced that they were making a creative contribution to photography in addition to selling products. In the Far East, Japanese commercial photographers kept abreast of the modernist style, employing close-ups, angled shots, and montages, exemplified by Smile Eye-Drops), a 1930 ad by Kiyoshi Koishi third-place winner in the First Annual Advertising Photography Exhibition held in Japan in that year.

This honeymoon between photographer and commercial patron was relatively short-lived. Even though Steichen thought such patronage to be the equivalent of the Medici's support for Renaissance artists, "the purely material subject matter" with which most advertising photographers had to deal could not be considered comparable to Renaissance religion and philosophy, as Outerbridge observed. Nevertheless, commercial commissions have continued to make a substantial impact on photography, affecting not only the kinds of images produced and the taste of the public but also, to some extent, the materials on the market with which all photographers must work.

Sources and influences in advertising photography are difficult to sort out because from the start Americans and Europeans looked to each other for inspiration, with Europeans envious of the munificence of advertising bud-gets on this side of the Atlantic and Americans aware of the greater freedom for experimentation in Europe. However, no matter where they were produced, the most visually arresting images reflect the ascendant stylistic tendencies in the visual arts in general. One wellspring in the United States was the Clarence White School of Photography. Its curriculum is only now being studied, but its significant contribution to the modernization of advertising photography can be seen in the roll call of faculty and students who became active in die field during the 1920s and '30s. Bruehl, Bourke -White, Outerbridge, Ralph Steiner, and Margaret Watkins translated the design precepts taught in the school into serviceable modernistic imagery, as can be seen in an image for an ad prepared by Watkins in 1925 for the J. Walter Thompson Agency.

KIYOSHI KOISHI. Smile Eye-Drops, 1930.
Halftone reproduction.

MARGARET WATKINS. Phenix Cheese (for J. Walter Thompson), 1925.
Gelatin silver print. Light Gallery, New York.

As might be expected, the style associated with the New Objectivity, with its emphasis on "the thing itself," was of paramount interest. Finsler in Germany, Tabard and the Studio Deberney-Peignot in France, and Steichen in the United States all realized (as did others) that the close-up served as an excellent vehicle to concentrate attention on intrinsic material qualities and to eliminate extraneous matters. One consequence of this emphasis, as an article on advertising photography in the late 1930s noted, is that "the softness of velvet appears even richer and deeper than it actually is and iron becomes even harder"; in addition, lighting and arrangement were further manipulated to glamorize the product. Nor were close-ups limited to inanimate still lifes or the products of machines; a view of hands engaged in the precise task of threading a needle, photographed by Bruehl as part of a campaign for men's suits, was meant to suggest the care, quality, and handwork (still a sign of luxury goods) that ostensibly went into this line of men's wear. The provocative nature of bizarre imagery for advertising also was recognized. French commercial photographer Lucien Lorelle suggested that it provided the "shock" needed to "give birth to the acquisitive desire." Startling views of ordinary objects were obtained by selecting extreme angles, by using abstract light patterns, and by montaging disparate objects. Just before 1930, photograms found their way into European advertising in works by Man Ray, Moholy-Nagy, and Piet Zwart, which were pro-duced for an electrical concern, an optical manufacturer, and a radio company, respectively. Montages by Finsler and Bayer were used to sell chocolate and machinery, while distorted views of writing ink by Lissitzky for Pelikan and of automobile tires by Tabard for Michclin were considered acceptable. Americans, on the other hand, were warned away from excessive distortion. Product pictures by Bruehl, Muray, Outerbridge, Steichen, and Ralph Steiner are essentially precise still lifes of recognizable objects. Even the dramatic angles chosen by Bourke-White to convey the sweep and power of large-scale American industrial machinery were selected with regard for the clarity of the forms being presented. Eventually, when montages and multiple images did enter American advertising vocabulary, these techniques were used for fashion and celebrity images and only after World War II for more prosaic consumer goods.

Most advertising images in the United States (and elsewhere) were not conceived in the modernist idiom by any means. Heavily retouched, banal photographic illustrations filled the mail-order catalogs issued by Sears, Roebuck and Montgomery Ward, while the advertising pages of popular magazines and trade journals were full of ordinary and often silly or sentimental concoctions. However, some very competent work was done by individuals working in an old-fashioned vein. The highly acclaimed arrangements photographed by Lejaren a Hiller required historically researched costumes and construction of sets in addition to careful attention to lighting. While technically a photograph, tableaux such as Surgery Through the Ages, part of a campaign for a pharmaceutical company, are really forerunners of contemporary video advertising in that they rely on theatrical and dramatic content rather than aesthetic means to get their message across.

After the second World War, a number of photo-journalists continued to be involved with an amalgam of advertising imagery and journalistic reporting that had made its initial appearance in the feature sections of Fortune in the 1930s. Even during the nadir of the Depression, articles illustrated with well-reproduced, stylish photo-graphs and signed artwork "sold" the positive aspects of the American corporate structure; indeed, Bourke-White felt that "the grandeur of industry," which she pictured for Fortune's pages, exerted the same appeal on manufacturer and photographer alike. While she herself revised this opinion, and later photojournalists may not have been as sanguine about the benefits of large-scale industrial enterprises, photographing for the broad range of print media that emerged after the war made it necessary for photographers to present "clear, coherent and vivid" pictures of business activities. As a result, the glossy corporate image that appears in annual reports in the guise of photojournalistic reporting has come down as one of the legacies of photojournalism to advertising and an example of the difficulties in categorizing contemporary photographs.

An important aspect of the alluring quality of current advertising images is the use of color. By 1925, according to the British graphic arts magazine Penrose's Annual, the public had come to expect "coloured covers and illustrations [in] ... books and magazines . . . posters . . . showcards . . . catalogues, booklets and all forms of commercial advertising." Even so, the desire for such materials did not immediately produce accurate and inexpensive color images on film or printed page; it was not until the late 1930s that both amateurs and professionals obtained negatives, positive transparencies, and prints with the capacity to render a seductive range of values and colors in natural and artificial light. Even though these materials were flawed by their impermanence—as they still are—such means were acceptable because their use in print media satisfied the public craving for color.

A method commonly used to create color images for advertisements during the Depression was the tri-chrome/carbro print, made from separation negatives produced in a repeating-back camera such as the Ives Kromskop. Based on the addition of dyes to gelatin carbon printing methods, carbro printing was a highly complicated procedure involving as many as 80 different steps; but despite the expense and the special facilities required, it flourished because "the commercial aspects of color were as important as the aesthetic or technical angles" in determining the kind of color work that publishers and agencies, competing for a limited market, favored. Conde Nast was one of die first publishers to print the richly hued advertising photographs by Bruehl and Fernand Bourges in Vogue in 1932. In the mid-1930s, the Bruehl-Bourges studio did color work for a range of product manufacturers reading like a veritable who's who of American corporations, while Will Connell, Lejaren a Hiller, Keppler, Muray, Outerbridge, Valentine Sarra, and H. I. Williams also were active in working out eye-catching spectrums for ads for food, fashion, and manufactured goods that appeared in House Beautiful and similar magazines.

There can be little argument that in modern capitalist societies the camera has proved to be an absolutely indispensable tool for the makers of consumer goods, for those involved with public relations and for those who sell ideas and services. Camera images have been able to make invented "realities" seem not at all fraudulent and have permitted viewers to suspend disbelief while remaining aware that the scene has been contrived." The availability of sophisticated materials and apparatus, of good processing facilities, and the fact that large numbers of proficient photographers graduate yearly from art schools and technical institutions, combined with the generous budgets allocated for advertising, guarantee a high level of excellence in contemporary advertising images. As in the past, the photographs deemed exceptional often reflect current stylistic ideas embraced in the arts as a whole and in personally expressive photography in particular; indeed, the dividing line between styles in advertising and in personal expression can be a thin one, with a number of prominent figures working with equal facility in both areas.

The imagination that inspired early enthusiasts (such as Brodoviteh) to foresee in advertising a great creative force is less evident in contemporary advertising photography. Whether picturing industrial equipment or luxury goods, the fact is that for the most part the style and con-tent of such images are controlled by the manufacturer and ad agency, and not by the individual photographer. Designed to attract the greatest number of viewers, there is little compass for personal approach, while the images that are considered exceptional tend to generate considerable emulation. The bland sameness that characterizes the field has been more true of advertising imagery in the United States than in Europe, owing to the larger budgets and greater role that advertising plays in American life, but it also reflects the fact that in the past there was more leeway in Europe for visual experimentation in applied photography and graphic design.

ANTON BRUEHL. Hands Threading a Needle (Weber and Heilbroner Advertising Campaign), c. 1929.
Gelatin silver print. International Museum of Photography, Rochester, N.Y.

NICKOLAS MURAY. Still Life, 1943.
Reproduced in McCall's Magazine. Carbro (assembly) print.
International Museum of Photography at George Eastman House, Rochester, N.Y.


Nickolas Muray (15 February 1892 - 2 November 1965) was a Hungarian-born American photographer.
Muray attended a graphic arts school in Budapest, where he studied lithography, photoengraving, and photography. After earning an International Engraver's Certificate, Muray took a three-year course in color photoengraving in Berlin, where, among other things, he learned to make color filters. At the end of his course he went to work for the publishing company Ullstein. In 1913, with the threat of war in Europe, Muray sailed to New York City, and was able to find work as a color printer in Brooklyn.
By 1920, Muray had opened a portrait studio at his home in Greenwich Village, while still working at his union job as an engraver. In 1921 he received a commission from Harper's Bazaar to do a portrait of the Broadway actor Florence Reed; soon after he was having photographs published each month in Harper's Bazaar, and was able to give up his engraving job.

Muray quickly became recognized as an important portrait photographer, and his subjects included most of the celebrities of New York City. In 1926, Vanity Fair sent Muray to London, Paris, and Berlin to photograph celebrities, and in 1929 hired him to photograph movie stars in Hollywood. He also did fashion and advertising work. Muray's images were published in many other publications, including Vogue, Ladies' Home Journal, and The New York Times.
Between 1920 and 1940, Nickolas Muray made over 10,000 portraits. His 1938's portrait of Frida Kahlo, made while Kahlo sojourned in New York, attending her exhibit at the Julien Levy Gallery, became the best known and loved portrait made by Muray. Muray and Kahlo were at the height of a ten-year love affair in 1939 when the portrait was made. Their affair had started in 1931, after Muray was divorced from his second wife and shortly after Kahlo's marriage to Mexican muralist painter Diego Rivera. It outlived Muray's third marriage and Kahlo's divorce and remarriage to Rivera by one year, ending in 1941. Muray wanted to marry, but when it became apparent that Kahlo wanted Muray as a lover, not a husband, Muray took his leave for good and married his fourth wife. He and Kahlo remained good friends until her death, in 1954.
After the market crash, Murray turned away from celebrity and theatrical portraiture, and become a pioneering commercial photographer, famous for his creation of many of the conventions of color advertising. He was considered the master or the carbro process. His last important public portraits were of Dwight David Eisenhower in the 1950s.

NICKOLAS MURAY. Camel cigarettes, Girl in pool, 1936

LEJAREN A HILLER. Hugh of Lucca (d. 1251) from the Surgery Through the Ages Series,
(Pharmaceutical advertising campaign) 1937.
Gelatin silver print. Visual Studies Workshop, Rochester, N.Y.

JAY MAISEL. United Technologies, 1982.
Advertisement. Art Director, Gordon Bowman. Copywriters,
Gordon Bowman/Christine Rothenberg.

RICHARD AVEDON. The Veiled Reds, 1978.


Richard Avedon (May 15, 1923 – October 1, 2004) was an American photographer. Avedon was able to take his early success in fashion photography and expand it into the realm of fine art.
Avedon was born in New York City to a Jewish-Russian family. After briefly attending Columbia University, he started as a photographer for the Merchant Marines in 1942, taking identification pictures of the crewmen with his Rolleiflex camera given to him by his father as a going-away present. In 1944, he began working as an advertising photographer for a department store, but was quickly discovered by Alexey Brodovitch, the art director for the fashion magazine Harper's Bazaar. In 1946, Avedon had set up his own studio and began providing images for magazines including Vogue and Life. He soon became the chief photographer for Harper's Bazaar. Avedon did not conform to the standard technique of taking fashion photographs, where models stood emotionless and seemingly indifferent to the camera. Instead, Avedon showed models full of emotion, smiling, laughing, and, many times, in action.

In 1966, Avedon left Harper's Bazaar to work as a staff photographer for Vogue magazine. In addition to his continuing fashion work, Avedon began to branch out and photographed patients of mental hospitals, the Civil Rights Movement in 1963, protesters of the Vietnam War, and the fall of the Berlin Wall.
During this period Avedon also created two famous sets of portraits of The Beatles. The first, taken in mid to late 1967, became one of the first major rock poster series, and consisted of five striking psychedelic portraits of the group — four heavily solarised individual colour portraits (solarisation of prints by his assistant, Gideon Lewin, retouching by Bob Bishop) and a black-and-white group portrait taken with a Rolleiflex camera and a normal Planar lens. The next year he photographed the much more restrained portraits that were included with The White Album in 1968.
Avedon was always interested in how portraiture captures the personality and soul of its subject. As his reputation as a photographer became widely known, he brought in many famous faces to his studio and photographed them with a large-format 8x10 view camera. His portraits are easily distinguished by their minimalist style, where the person is looking squarely in the camera, posed in front of a sheer white background. Among the many rock bands photographed by Avedon, in 1973 he shot Electric Light Orchestra with all the members exposing their bellybuttons for recording, On the Third Day.

He is also distinguished by his large prints, sometimes measuring over three feet in height. His large-format portrait work of drifters, miners, cowboys and others from the western United States became a best-selling book and traveling exhibit entitled In the American West, and is regarded as an important hallmark in 20th Century portrait photography, and by some as Avedon's magnum opus. Commissioned by the Amon Carter Museum in Fort Worth, Texas, it was a six-year project Avedon embarked on in 1979, that produced 125 portraits of people in the American west who caught Avedon's eye.
Avedon was drawn to working people such as miners and oil field workers in their soiled work clothes, unemployed drifters, and teenagers growing up in the West circa 1979-84. When first published and exhibited, In the American West was criticized for showing what some considered to be a disparaging view of America. Avedon was also lauded for treating his subjects with the attention and dignity usually reserved for the politically powerful and celebrities. Laura Wilson served as Avedon's assistant during the creation of In the American West and in 2003 published a photo book documenting the experiences, Avedon at Work, In the American West.
Avedon became the first staff photographer for The New Yorker in 1992. He has won many awards for his photography, including the International Center of Photography Master of Photography Award in 1993, the Prix Nadar in 1994 for his photobook Evidence, and the Royal Photographic Society 150th Anniversary Medal in 2003.

In 1944, Avedon married Dorcas Nowell, who later became a model and was known professionally as Doe Avedon. Nowell and Avedon divorced after five years of marriage. In 1951, he married Evelyn Franklin; their marriage produced one son, John. Avedon and Franklin also later divorced.
Martial arts movie star Loren Avedon is the nephew of Richard Avedon.
On October 1, 2004, he suffered a brain hemorrhage in San Antonio, Texas while shooting an assignment for The New Yorker. At the time of his death, Avedon was working on a new project titled On Democracy to focus on the run-up to the 2004 U.S. presidential election.

Hollywood presented a fictional account of his early career in the 1957 musical Funny Face, starring Fred Astaire as the fashion photographer "Dick Avery." Avedon supplied some of the still photographs used in the production, including its most famous single image: an intentionally overexposed close-up of Audrey Hepburn's face in which only her famous features - her eyes, her eyebrows, and her mouth - are visible.
Hepburn was Avedon's muse in the 1950s and 60s, going as far to say "I am, and forever will be, devastated by the gift of Audrey Hepburn before my camera. I cannot lift her to greater heights. She is already there. I can only record. I cannot interpret her. There is no going further than who she is. She has achieved in herself her ultimate portrait."


Colour photography
The Autochrome process, introduced in France in 1907 by Auguste and Louis Lumière, was the first practical colour photography process. It used a colour screen (a glass plate covered with grains of starch dyed to act as primary-colour filters and black dust that blocked all unfiltered light) coated with a thin film of panchromatic (i.e., sensitive to all colours) emulsion, and it resulted in a positive colour transparency. Because Autochrome was a colour transparency and could be viewed only by reflected light, however, researchers continued to look for improvements and alternative colour processes.

In 1935 Leopold Godowsky, Jr., and Leopold Mannes, two American musicians working with the Kodak Research Laboratories, initiated the modern era of colour photography with their invention of Kodachrome film. With this reversal (slide) film, colour transparencies could be obtained that were suitable both for projection and for reproduction. A year later the Agfa Company of Germany developed the Agfacolor negative-positive process, but owing to World War II the film did not become available until 1949. Meanwhile, in 1942 Kodak introduced the Kodacolor negative-positive film that 20 years later—after many improvements in quality and speed and a great reduction in price—would become the most popular film used for amateur photography.

Leopold Godowsky
Leopold Godowsky, Jr., (born May 27, 1900, Chicago, Illinois, U.S.—died February 18, 1983, New York, New York), American musician and photographic technician primarily known as a codeveloper of Kodachrome film (1935).

Son of the pianist Leopold Godowsky, the young Godowsky attended New York City’s Riverdale School, where he met his future photographic partner, Leopold Mannes, who shared Godowsky’s interest in both music and photography. Working as a violinist, Godowsky was able to set up a small laboratory with Mannes and begin experiments in colour photography. In 1917 Godowsky entered the University of California as a physics and chemistry major, as well as accepting positions with the Los Angeles and San Francisco symphony orchestras. He continued to collaborate with Mannes, exchanging experimental findings and ideas by mail.

In 1919 Godowsky and Mannes created a mediocre colour film, at which time they realized that the additive process that they had been working with would not give them the true colours that they sought. It was at this point that Godowsky and Mannes switched to a multiple-layered subtractive-colour-film approach that would eventually lead them to the development of Kodachrome. They opened their first real laboratory in New York City in 1922, and, with the backing of C.E. Kenneth Mees of the Eastman Kodak Company in 1930, the two men moved to Rochester, New York, to work with assistants at the well-equipped Kodak Research Laboratories. On April 15, 1935, Kodachrome was announced as the earliest of the subtractive-colour films that proved to be a boon for colour photography. Though initially used for animated motion pictures, Kodachrome was later improved, and it remains a popular film today.

Godowsky went on to study mathematics at Columbia University and continued his photographic experiments in New York City and at Westport, Connecticut. He assisted in the development of Kodacolor and Ektachrome and received numerous awards for his contributions in the field of photography.

Leopold Mannes
Leopold Mannes, (born Dec. 26, 1899, New York, N.Y., U.S.—died Aug. 11, 1964, Vineyard Haven, Mass.), American musician and photographic technician known as a codeveloper of Kodachrome film (1935).

Mannes attended New York City’s Riverdale School, where he met his future partner, Leopold Godowsky, Jr. They enjoyed a mutual interest in music and photography, and together they set up a small laboratory for experimentation with colour film. In 1917 Mannes went to Harvard University to study physics and musicology. After receiving his B.A. in music, he taught at the Mannes School of Music in New York City, an institution founded by his parents. Mannes continued his research in photography, however, and collaborated with Godowsky by mail.

In 1919 Mannes and Godowsky created a mediocre colour film, at which time they realized that the additive process they had been working with would not give them the true colours that they sought. It was at this point that Mannes and Godowsky switched to a multiple-layered subtractive-film approach that would eventually lead them to the development of Kodachrome. They opened their first real laboratory in New York City in 1922, and with the backing of Dr. C.E. Kenneth Mees of the Eastman Kodak Company in 1930, the duo moved to Rochester, N.Y., to work with assistants at the well-equipped Kodak Research Laboratories. On April 15, 1935, Kodachrome’s development was announced as the earliest of the colour-subtractive films that proved a boon to colour photography. Though originally used for animated motion pictures, Kodachrome was later improved, and it remains a popular film today. Mannes returned to the Mannes School of Music, which he renamed the Mannes College of Music in 1953 after he became director, a position he held until his death.

Photographs in Color

Of all the technological innovations occurring in photography between 1870 and 1920, none was more tantalizing or possessed greater potential for commercial exploitation than the discovery of how to make images in color. This search, which had begun with the daguerreotype, entailed much dead-end experimentation before a practicable it temporary solution was found in the positive glass Autochrome plate, marketed in 1907 by its inventors the Lumiere brothers. Though easy to use, the process required long exposures, was expensive, and though the colors were subtle they were not faultless. Because a simple, efficient method of turning the transparencies into satisfactory photographic color prints was not available, the images had to be viewed in a diascopc (single) or stereograph viewer; as late as the 1920s commercial portraitists still were being advised to send black and white work out to be hand -painted when a color image was desired. Nevertheless, Autochrome from the start attracted amateurs with leisure and money, photographers of flowers and nature, and in the United States, especially, indhiduals and studios involved in producing commercial images for publication. It also appealed briefly to aesthetic photographers who recognized at the time that rather than augmenting reality, color was best treated as another facet of artistic expressiveness.

UNKNOWN PHOTOGRAPHER (French). Lumiere Brothers, n.d.
Gelatin silver print.

French "autochromistes" followed the example of the Lumieres in documenting family activities at home, at play, and in their professions. Among professionals, Jules Gervais-Courtellemont photographed in the Near and Far East and documented aspects of World War II; views of military life by Jean Tournassoud (later director of photography for the French Army) are other examples of interest in this theme. Autochrome appealed to Lartigue; convinced that "life and color cannot be separated from each other," he took elegant if somewhat mannered snapshots exemplified by Bibi in Nice, and for a brief while this color process was used in a similar fashion throughout Europe.

Not surprisingly, amateurs who liked to photograph flowers were delighted by Autochrome, but it also attracted a serious nature photographer, Henry Irving, who was quick to recognize the value of even a flawed system for botanical studies. While employed less frequently by documentary photographers, Autochrome was used by William Rau, the Philadelphia commercial photographer of railroad images who by the turn of the century had become interested in artistic camera expression; Produce is an example of a subject and treatment unusual in the color work of the time.

While Autochrome (and its commercial variants) was based on the theory of adding primary colors together on one plate to effect the full range of spectral hues, experithat used a prism to bring the three color plates into one sharply focused image. Because of the cumbersomencss of tripling the exposure, the subjects, taken throughout Russia, had to be more or less immobile, but despite the technical and logistical difficulties of this complicated undertaking, Prokudin-Gorskii produced what surely must be the most ambitious color documentation of the time. In its early stages, it was hoped that color would add an element of naturalness to the image—the missing ingredient in verisimilitude—since actuality obviously was many-hued rather dian monochromatic as shown in photographs. However, as photographers began to work with the materials they realized that rather than making camera images more real, color dyes comprised another elementments that led to the production of three different color negatives that subsequently were superimposed and either projected or made into color prints were also in progress. Around 1904, this procedure was used for an extensive documentation of Russian life conceived by Sergei Mikhailovich Prokudin-Gorskii, a well-educated member of the Russian Imperial Technological Society. An educational and ethnographic project made with the tsar's patronage, it involved the production of three color-separation negatives on each plate by using a camera with a spring-operated mechanism that changed filters and repeated the exposures three times. After development, these were projected in an apparatus that had to be considered in terms of its expressive potential. The recognition that the seductiveness of color— its capacity to make ordinary objects singularly attractive— would have a powerful effect on the fields of advertising and publicity was the paramount stimulus in efforts that led to another breakthrough in color technology in the 1930s.

By 1890, photography no longer was an arcane craft practiced by initiates for whom artistic, informational, and social purposes were conjoined in the same image. Trans-formed and compartmentalized as a result of changes in materials, processes, techniques, and equipment, photo-graphs became at once highly specialized and everybody's business (and for some, big business). In the face of the medium's capacity to provide information and entertainment on such a broad scale, a small group of photographers struggled to assert the medium's artistic potential, to lend weight to an observation made some 40 years earlier that photography had "two distinct paths"—art and science— "to choose from."

LUMIERE BROTHERS. Lumiere Family in the Garden at La Ciotat, c. 1907-15.
Autochrome. Ilford S.A., France.

LUMIERE BROTHERS. Untitled, c. 1907-15.
Autochrome. Fondation Nationale de la Photographic, Lyon. France.

Auguste and Louis Lumiere

The Lumière brothers, Auguste Marie Louis Nicolas (19 October 1862, Besançon, France – 10 April 1954, Lyon) and Louis Jean (5 October 1864, Besançon, France – 6 June 1948, Bandol), were among the earliest filmmakers.
The Lumières held their first private screening of projected motion pictures March 22, 1895. Their first public screening of movies at which admission was charged was held on December 28, 1895, at Paris's Salon Indien du Grand Café. This history-making presentation featured ten short films, including their first film, Sortie des Usines Lumière à Lyon (Workers Leaving the Lumière Factory). Each film is 17 meters long, which, when hand cranked through a projector, runs approximately 46 seconds.

It is believed their first film was actually recorded that same year (1895) with Léon Bouly's cinématographe device, which was patented the previous year. The cinématographe— a three-in-one device that could record, develop, and project motion pictures— was further developed by the Lumières.
Max and Emil Skladanowsky, inventors of the Bioskope, had offered projected moving images to a paying public one month earlier (November 1, 1895, in Berlin). Neverless, film historians consider the Grand Café screening to be the true birth of the cinema as a commercial medium, because the Skladanowsky brothers' screening used an extremely impractical dual system motion picture projector that was immediately supplanted by the Lumiere cinematographe.

JULES GERVAIS-COURTELLEMONT. Canal at Bierre, 1907-20.
Autochrome. Cinematheque Robert Lynon de la Ville de Paris.

JEAN TOURNASSOUD. Army Scene, c. 1914.
Autochrome. Fondation Nationale de la Photographic, Lyon, France.

STEPHANE PASSET. Mongolian Horsewoman, c. 1913.
Autochrome. Albert Kahn Collection, Hauts-de-Seine, France.

WILLIAM RAU. Produce, c. 1910.
Autochrome. Library Company of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.

HENRY IRVING. Cornflowers, Poppies, Oat, Wheat, Corncockle. c. 1907.
Autochrome. British Museum (Natural History), London.

HEINRICH KUEHN. Mother and Children on the Hillside, 1905.
Autochrome. Robert Miller Gallery, New York.

FRANK EUGENE. Emmy and Kitty, Tutzing, Bavaria, 1907.
Autochrome. Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.

JACQ ES HENRI LARTIGUE. Bibi in Nice,1920. Autochrome.

The Origins of Color in Camera

The images reproduced in this section constitute a brief pictorial survey of the ways in which color was made part of the photographic image from the inception of the medium up through the invention of the first viable additive color process. It opens with an example of a cyanotype, an early discovery whose brilliant blue was thought to be too unrealistic, and follows with a selection of daguerreotypes and paper prints that were hand-colored by tinting or painting to make them more lifelike or artistic. This group also includes works in carbon and gum bichromate—the manipulative processes that permitted photographers working from about the 1860s through the turn of the century to introduce colored pigments into their positive prints. These are succeeded by examples of the early efforts to produce color images by using colored filters or incorporating dyes into the light-sensitive film emulsions. The first such color experiment—an image of a tartan ribbon— is the work of James Clerk Maxwell, a theoretical physicist who used the additive system to demonstrate color vision by projecting three black and white images through colored filters to achieve a surprising full-color image. The experiments of Ducos du Hauron, John Joly, and Auguste and Louis Lumiere—the inventors of Autochrome—are shown, as are examples of work in Autochrome by enthusiasts in Europe and the United States who in the early years of the 20th century recorded family and friends, documented nature, and made aesthetic statements using its mellow hues.

ANNA ATKINS. Lycopodium Flagellatum (Algae), 1840S-50S. Cyanotype.
Gemsheim Collection, Humanities Research Center, University of Texas, Austin.

Daguerreotype with applied color. Collection Leonard A. Walle, Northville, Mich.

W. E. KILBURN. The Great Chemist Meeting on Kennington Common, April 10, 1848.
Daguerreotype with applied color. Royal Library, Windsor Castle, England.
Reproduced by Gracious Permission of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II.

T. Z. VOGEL and C. REICHARDT. Seated Girl, c. 1860.
Albumen print with applied color. Agfa-Gevaert Foto-Historama, Cologne, Germany.

FELICE BEATO (ATTRIBUTED). Woman Using Cosmetics, c. 1867.
Albumen print with applied color, from a published album now without title, Yokohama, Japan, 1868.
Art, Prints, and Photographs Division, New York Public Library, Astor, Lenox, and Tilden Foundations; Gift of Miss E. F. Thomas, 1924.


Felice Beato (born 1833 or 1834, died c.1907), sometimes known as Felix Beato, was a Corfiote photographer. He was one of the first photographers to take pictures in East Asia and one of the first war photographers. He is noted for his genre works, portraits, and views and panoramas of the architecture and landscapes of Asia and the Mediterranean region. Beato's travels to many lands gave him the opportunity to create powerful and lasting images of countries, people and events that were unfamiliar and remote to most people in Europe and North America. To this day his work provides the key images of such events as the Indian Rebellion of 1857 and the Second Opium War. His photographs represent the first substantial oeuvre of what came to be called photojournalism. He had a significant impact on other photographers, and Beato's influence in Japan, where he worked with and taught numerous other photographers and artists, was particularly deep and lasting.

The origins and identity of Felice Beato have been problematic issues, but the confusion over his birth date and birthplace seems now to have been substantially cleared up. Based on an application for a travel permit that he made in 1858, Beato was born in 1833 or 1834 on the island of Corfu. At the time of his birth, Corfu was part of the British protectorate of the Ionian Islands, and so Beato would have qualified as a British subject. Corfu had previously been a Venetian possession, and this fact goes some way to explaining the many references to Beato as "Italian" and "Venetian" member of the Corfiot Italians. The Beato family is recorded as having moved to Corfu in the 17th century and was one of the noble Venetian families that ruled the island during the Republic of Venice.
Because of the existence of a number of photographs signed "Felice Antonio Beato" and "Felice A. Beato", it was long assumed that there was one photographer who somehow managed to photograph at the same time in places as distant as Egypt and Japan. But in 1983 it was shown by Chantal Edel that "Felice Antonio Beato" represented two brothers, Felice Beato and Antonio Beato, who sometimes worked together, sharing a signature. The confusion arising from the signatures continues to cause problems in identifying which of the two photographers was the creator of a given image.

Albumen print with applied color. Rosenbach Museum and Library, Philadelphia.
Trustees of the C. L. Dodgson Estate.

ADOLPHE BRAUN. Still Life with Deer and Wildfowl, c. 1865.
Carbon print. Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York; David Hunter McAlpin Fund, 1947.

EDWARD STEICHEN. The Flatiron, 1905.
Gumbichromate over platinum. Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.


(b Luxembourg, 27 March 1879; d West Redding, CT, 25 March 1973).

American photographer, painter, designer and curator of Luxembourgeois birth. Steichen emigrated to the USA in 1881 and grew up in Hancock, MI, and Milwaukee, WI. His formal schooling ended when he was 15, but he developed an interest in art and photography. He used his self-taught photographic skills in design projects undertaken as an apprentice at a Milwaukee lithography firm. The Pool-evening (1899; New York, MOMA) reflects his early awareness of the Impressionists, especially Claude Monet, and American Symbolist photographers such as Clarence H. White. While still in Milwaukee, his work came to the attention of White, who provided an introduction to Alfred Stieglitz; Stieglitz was impressed by Steichen’s work and bought three of his photographs.

JAMES CLERK MAXWELL. Tartan Ribbon, 1861.
Reproduction print from a photographic projection. Science Museum, London.

LOUIS DUCOS DU HAURON. Diaphanie (Leaves), 1869.
Three-color carbon assembly print. Societe Franchise de Photographic, Paris.

LOUIS DUCOS DU HAURON. View of Angouleme, France (Agen), 1877.
Heliochrome (assembly) print. International Museum of Photography at George Eastman House, Rochester, N.Y.

LOUIS DUCOS DU HAURON. Rooster and Parrot, 1879.
Heliochrome (assembly) print. International Museum of Photography at George Eastman House, Rochester, N.Y.

JOHN JOLY. Arum Lily and Anthuriums, 1898.
Joly process print. Kodak Museum, Harrow, England.

LAURA GILPIN. Still Life, 1912.