Category Archives: Photographers

Paris 1976

Bio, Photographs

With the grain master.

This journal seems to have hit a bit of a film streak recently, so here’s more of the same.

In the 1970s, the height of the 35mm film era, Ansco made a film named GAF500 which was a color slide film rated at a nominal 500 ASA. Given that most slide snappers were using Kodachrome II (25 ASA) or Kodachrome X (64 ASA) at the time, this was quite a statement.

The film’s fame owes much to the work of French photographer Sarah Moon who jumped on its creative possibilities which perfectly matched her impressionist – nay, pointillist – photography style. Pointillisme was originated by that most special of French painters George Seurat in the 1880s. Dots of color replaced continuous tones and the results were electric. Maybe his finest work is ‘A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte’ from 1884 and you have zero excuses for not seeing it for it resides in all its magnificence in The Art Institute of Chicago.


La Grande Jatte in Chicago. The canvas is huge at 7′ x 10′.

At this time in my life I had already long decided to abandon dreary, failed England, where I had grown up and graduated in 1973 from University College, London, and had my eyes firmly set on the New World and America, a reality that came to closure in late 1977. But having been an ardent Francophile for the past 15 of my 26 years on earth, a visit to Paris was first called for. I had already devoured Proust’s magnum opus ‘Remembrance of Things Past’ not once but twice, had enjoyed a passionate affair with Impressionist painting, based on my readings of John Rewald’s magnificent books, and had maybe two hundred of Henri Cartier-Bresson’s images committed to memory.

What causes this flashback is not any great love of tea or madeleines (I dislike the first and rarely eat the second) but rather my son’s trip tomorrow to Paris with his school as part of his French studies. He will stay ’embedded’ with a French family – no English allowed! – for two weeks, half in Strasbourg, Alsace on the German border, the other half in Paris. Strasbourg with its overweening Germanic culture leaves me cold, but Paris ….

Returning to the Divine Sarah, I packed one roll of GAF500 on my trip in 1976, much inspired by her work. The rest was all TriX which is about all I used back then. Why mess with perfection? The greatest monochrome emulsion ever made. I doubt I had taken more than a handful of color snaps in my life a that point, but I did find GAF500 in my Leica on the obligatory trip up the Eiffel Tower and one of the snaps made there came out rather nicely, the essence of all that is French, looking into the fine restaurant atop the Tower.


Atop the Eiffel Tower. Leica M3, 35mm Summaron, GAF500.

So the next three weeks I will be living vicariously through my boy, Winston, whose namesake WSC was once asked how he managed to tolerate DeGaulle’s endless grandstanding in London during WW2. “He is my cross of Lorraine to bear”, WSC replied. Expounding on his theme, he added that a world without French culture, cuisine, couture and women would be a far worse place. Churchill wisely chose the south of France for his retirement, abandoning drafty, cold, rainy Chartwell to the tourist hordes. Here’s more of the same:

That week I spent in Paris was magical and I do not recall taking one bad image. This trio from the Tuileries Gardens about sums it up:


Tuileries Triptych. Leica M3, 35mm Summaron, TriX.

May Winston have as good a time.

Vive La France!

The New Hudson

Book reviews, Photographs

1950s American automobile advertising.

As a kid growing up in London I learned two important things when visiting my dentist, whom I always thought of as the Kensington Butcher:

  • Avoid British dentistry at all costs. Just look at their teeth.
  • Americans bought a new car annually.

The first realization was brought home forcefully as immigration to the States brought with it access to proper dental care. It is unusual to hear American dental professionals excoriate a predecessor’s efforts, yet I heard that in abundance about the Kensington Butcher’s work.

The second came from the National Geographic magazines on display in the KB’s waiting room, waiting time in which made my many hours in US Immigration Offices pleasurable by comparison. Those Geographic magazines, despite their small format, featured beautiful advertisements for American cars and the clear sense was that an annual upgrade to the latest model was quite the thing for the aspiring economic climber.

That thought saw acquisition, many years later, of an amusing book of 1950s US automobile advertising named Cruise-O-Matic, which shows Detroit’s many creations of that wonderfully prosperous Eisenhower era. Photography was still a nascent force in car ads, meaning that most of the illustrations were beautiful air brushed paintings, the better to show off the special appeal of that year’s model.

Here’s one of my favorites, for a 1950 Hudson:

If the exotically elongated lines of this magnificent sedan seem too much to believe, they are. The artist has taken considerable liberties with the vehicle’s proportions as this contemporary photograph shows:

Cruise-O-Matic remains available in a reprinted version and you can buy it here.

Niko J. Kallianiotis

Photographers

Fine images of urban decay.

WaPo just featured this photographer in a piece titled ‘Portraits of the fading American dream’ where he documents urban areas of Pennsylvania which have fallen into decay. That’s the great thing about the American Way. As industries and regions fade, Americans move to a better place, leaving behind those too old, too shortsighted or too unambitious to improve their lot in life. Natural selection, if you like. Americans have little sense of history or spirit of place.


Click the image for the article.

You can see more of Kallianotis’s work at his Instagram feed.

Shulman and Bosch

Movies, Photographers

History repeats.

While I have not had TV service for some two decades now, I do subscribe to Amazon Prime and they make available a lot of content, including their ‘made for TV’ series as Amazon moves to become a major movie studio.

One which caught my eye recently is the Harry Bosch series of detective thrillers, set in Los Angeles. The cinematography here appeals immediately, capturing that sun bleached look of the poorer parts of a city I love. Bosch, a somewhat dour and jaded Hollywood homicide cop, lives in a magnificent stilt house in the Hollywood Hills. You know, one of those due to become an insurance claim receivable when the Big One hits, for these Hills homes are perched on uprights which will be the first to go when tectonic plates commence shifting.

The story line, for no straight cop could afford this place on his salary, is that Bosch participated in the making of a cop movie – there’s a poster on his wall testifying to this – which rewarded him richly, affording him the magnificent home (1870 Blue Heights Dr, Los Angeles, CA 90069) along with some really cool vintage tube hi-fi hardware. The latter, sadly, is wasted on his preference for jazz, which is so much noise in my book, but each to his own. Here’s Harry in his pad:

This image, used in several episodes, immediately harkens back to the greatest modern architectural photograph of a Neutra inspired home, that of the Stahl house, taken by Julius Shulman:

The Stahl House.

If you like your detectives hard bitten, cynical and rule bending, with more than a dash of Philip Marlowe (and some of the complexity) thrown into the mix along with fine acting and cinematography, Harry Bosch is your man. The intense and splendidly named Titus Welliver is Bosch.

Funny Face

Movies

Three minutes of absolute magic.

I pontificated on Essential Blu-Ray movies a while back and that short list remains valid today. These movies are essential not to the cinephile or auteur. Rather, they are key for any photographer.

None meets the definition of ‘essential’ better than Stanley Donen’s 1957 Funny Face with Fred Astaire, Audrey Hepburn and the powerhouse that was Kay Thompson. But the movie director had two special tools in his arsenal. One was the aristocratic couturier Hubert de Givenchy, recently deceased. No man more defined ‘elegant’ when it came to modern couture and in Audrey Hepburn – an actress of surpassingly bland acting talent – he found the perfect mannequin. The two would remain linked in the minds of the fashionistas for decades. The other was the ‘go to’ fashion photographer of the ’50s and ’60s, America’s own Richard Avedon, yet another Columbia dropout. When editor Diana Vreeland left Harper’s Bazaar for Vogue she took Avedon with her and the rest is history. A great collaboration defined fashion photography for two decades.

Avedon served as the expert photography adviser on ‘Funny Face’, as this wonderful image with Fred Astaire shows:

Just over half way through the movie the photography crew finally has the somewhat gauche Hepburn more or less beaten into modelling shape and what follows is three minutes of absolute magic. In those three minutes Astaire is shown crafting seven showstopper images as he directs Hepburn in various posing routines in magnificent Parisian locations.

Here he is getting ready for the first with the same giant plate camera in the Avedon image above:


In the Tuileries Gardens, outside The Louvre. The most perfect urban space on earth.

He uses a Rolleiflex as often as the plate camera, even adopting the tricky upside down orientation shown here:

Then the fun begins.



With the balloons at the petit Arc de Triomphe.


At Gare du Nord with the Flèche d’Or, the Paris to Calais train. Givenchy at his very best.


At the florist’s.


The Louvre.


Fishing in the Seine.


Not any doves. Parisian doves.


The Coup de Grace. Givenchy outdoes himself at the Paris Opéra.


7 images. 3 minutes. Absolute magic.