Paris is one of my favourite cities of the world. Here are a few photos of this beautiful city in black and white.
I love the architecture, the cafe culture, the hustle and bustle of the streets and the peacefulness of the cemeteries.
Paris is one of my favourite cities of the world. Here are a few photos of this beautiful city in black and white.
I love the architecture, the cafe culture, the hustle and bustle of the streets and the peacefulness of the cemeteries.
I have a love/hate relationship with Hemingway. I have tried a number of times to read his novels. Every book of his has frustrated me and I’ve put them down unfinished. There’s just something about his style of writing that grates against me….like fingernails down a chalk-board.
It was therefore with some trepidation that I picked up “A Moveable Feast” in our local library, vowing to give Hemingway one last chance to redeem himself. I’m already half way through and to my surprise and delight I am actually enjoying it…..so what’s changed? Frankly I have no idea. The writing style is the same so perhaps it’s the subject matter….my beloved Paris.
Ah Paris! City of Lights, City of Love and Romance, City of Style and Fashion, City of Art and Literature. Home of many of the writing greats of the past and present…for some permanently for others a temporary home. And no doubt she…Paris…will continue to inspire writers and artists for years to come.
It should be noted that this particular book is not a novel….but more a collection of essays about Hemingway’s time spent in Paris. According to the all knowing oracle Wikipedia – “A Moveable Feast is a memoir by American author Ernest Hemingway about his years as a struggling young migrant journalist and writer in Paris in the 1920’s. The book, first published in 1964, describes the author’s apprenticeship as a young writer while he was married to his first wife, Hadley Richardson.” Possibly it is just my time to find enlightenment in Hemingway’s words. Unlike my wife who had to read Hemingway’s “The old man and the sea” at school and proclaimed it “possibly the most boring book in the world” – I only ever thought to pick up one of his books after seeing Woody Allen’s 2011 movie “Midnight in Paris” – which I have touched on in an earlier blog post.
In the movie Hemingway is seen rubbing shoulders with other literary and artistic greats such as Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald, Gertrude Stein, T.S. Eliot (all members of the Lost Generation of writers), Pablo Picasso, Degas, Man Ray, Cole Porter and many others. I initially thought that it was simply Allen taking poetic licence in placing all these legendary people in the one place at the same time, but reading Hemingway’s book – it confirms that he knew and mixed with many of these people and more. He was also friends with Ezra Pound and James Joyce and politely suffered the company of Ford Madox Ford – who was, it seems, invariably – in later years – the worse for drink. Ford was a fellow writer and novelist, a champion of literature – established, new and experimental, and a publisher. He even published some of Hemingway’s work.
It must have been marvelous to have been in Paris back then.
In the movie, Midnight in Paris, Gil Pender – played by Owen Wilson refers to 1920’s Paris as being the Golden Age – something refuted by another character Adriana, played by Marion Cotillard – who insisted that the Golden Age was during the Belle Epoque period, which of course ended in 1914 with the start of the first world war. It seems that everyone has their own individual ideal nostalgic period. In the movie, Gil Pender is transported magically back from present day Paris to 1920’s Paris. Here is a short YouTube trailer of the movie showing the scene where Pender meets Hemingway. And Hemingway speaks the way that he writes. No one else talks this way….no one!
I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall in the cafes that they frequented. To listen to the literary discussions and friendly, often drunken banter
Hemingway’s early years in Paris were as a struggling writer and he and his wife would live in the cheapest part of town in an apartment which shared a bathroom on the landing with other apartments on that floor, would sometimes miss meals and rarely bought new clothes in order to afford the little luxuries of life. Money it seems would always find Hemingway just at the time that it was most needed. He professes to have had a fairly carefree…almost worry free existence, where finances were concerned. Something always turned up to save the day, whether it be an against the odds win on the horses, an overdue royalty payment from a magazine or publisher, or even simply being able to borrow books from Sylvia Beach’s Shakespeare & Company – rather than having to buy them.
I guess it’s a reminder that every writer has to start somewhere….and in a way it should give all of us “struggling writers” hope.
I’d love to hear from you….please tell me if you love or hate Hemingway….and if you love his writings, which book you consider to be his finest piece of literature.
I’m not going to go into depth about what I do or don’t believe in about Christmas…..except of course that Santa really does exist….(cough cough). Christmas is a magical time of you have little kids to share that magic with……..otherwise, it does all seem to be a lot of work for one day of stuffing our faces and damaging our livers.
At our home, in the build up to Christmas, my wife had reeled off a list of things that “needed to be done before Christmas” and we sweated and toiled in order to get most of them done before the big day. We live in New Zealand so Christmas falls in our summer-time meaning that usually we can bask in sunshine with temperatures in the high 20’s or low 30’s Celsius. Christmas lunch is taken in the garden…..usually…..which is why a lot of the tasks tended to centre around the garden and lawns – making everything as neat as a pin and putting up an awning for a sun-shade and of course fairy lights – although with it being a lunch time feast, no one will see the lights against the bright daylight. BUT they were on the list so had to be put up and switched on.
So after a week of hard work and fraying tempers, completing our garden tasks, of course it absolutely poured down the day before Christmas and on the day itself. Oh JOY! As the front lawn gradually became a shallow lake, we dined inside and it was a bit of a crush squeezing 11 around the tables in the dining room. We had to arrange the tables diagonally – corner to corner – in order to fit everyone and everything in, as a rather large Christmas tree occupied much of one side of the room.
We all ate more than we should – naturally. AND one or two of “us” definitely drank more than was sensible….but we survived the day.
Honestly – next year I wouldn’t mind just disappearing to a Pacific island for the week instead – to chill out and recharge the batteries. My wife even suggested flying to Norway for Christmas…..about as far as you can get from NZ – where we would be completely off the radar….not to mention freezing cold.
It’s now 2 days later – the 27th and finally I am kicking back, chilling out. I’ve just had a coffee with a large chunk of Christmas cake and am contemplating either opening a beer…..or finishing off one of the many bottles of wine that were opened and left unfinished on Christmas day. Why do people do that? Why open a new bottle when there is already another one of exactly the same wine already opened and has only one glassful missing. Does anyone else find that frustrating or is it just me?
Anyhow…getting back to chilling out – I’m reading a book put together by a lady called Penelope Rowlands of 32 essays / short stories by 32 different writers, of a variety of nationalities, who have all lived, or been seduced to stay longer than they should have, in the European City of Lights – Paris. It’s called “Paris was Ours” and I picked it up second hand. It’s in very good condition and I was drawn to the book by the beautiful moody black and white photo on the front of a dimly lit, rainy street with people walking -mostly wearing raincoats and carrying umbrellas – lots of shadows but also reflections and rain spattered glowing pavements. By reading the inside back cover of the book it appears that the photo is from flickr by a Julien Brachhammer. Who-ever you are Julien, I love the photo.
Inside the book the essays range from 3 pages long up to a maximum of around 16 or 17 pages, so it’s very easy to pick up and put down when you have spare moments…..or you can sit and binge read the essays – much like I was trying to do until I had the urge to share my experience of the book with you all – on here…WordPress.
All of the writers had been seduced by “the city of love” and all or almost all profess to still love it although some also claimed to have a love/hate relationship with a city that they found both passionately alluring, yet also one that theft them feeling lonely and blue. As one writer put it “Paris is a good place to be young and melancholy.” Another says “Paris steals in on you like fog.” Others refer to it as “the world capital of memory and desire” or insist that they were seduced by …”that siren, Paris.” I just love all these quotes – most are so poetic and I wished that I had written them first.
But living in Paris even for a short time – as a resident rather than a tourist – has been beneficial to the inner writer in all these essayists. As one put it “to be a writer you MUST come back to Paris.”
In her introduction to the book, the editor Penelope Rowlands speaks for most of the writers in this enthralling collection when she professes, “We hated Paris and loved it all at once.”
As writer and journalist Walter Wells wrote in his essay “I knew already that living in Paris would not be like visiting Paris, but I hadn’t appreciated what that really meant.” OR as Marcelle Clements attested – “Paris is a great place to fall in love, to eat, drink, and be merry. But it’s also the perfect city in which to be depressed or, even better, melancholy……You don’t have to be French to smoke a Gitane and notice the falling leaves drifting by your window.”
More than half of the essays have never appeared in any other publications and were written especially for this book. Some are well known writers, others – if you’re like me – you will never have heard of before, but all are intrepid men and women writing about their personal encounters with a magical yet uncompromising place – one that changes them indelibly and will stay with them forever – PARIS!
Most of these essays left me wanting to read more by each writer – to delve deeper into their backgrounds – and of course made me yearn to live for a year or more in that seductive city of lights, love and melancholy.
I’m not really a giver of stars to recommend books, as a book is a very subjective thing – what I love – you may hate. BUT if pushed….I would give this at least 4 out of 5.
On my Euro-Trip I had tried many times to visit photography galleries or exhibitions featuring photography or photographers, but each time my good intentions were thwarted for one reason or another. Sometimes I arrived in a city on a day that the gallery didn’t open, or one exhibition had just finished and they were taking it down in readiness for the next, or it was reserved for a private showing, or the gallery had closed permanently, or it had moved to other premises…….and the other premises, even when armed with Google maps were impossible to locate.
It was a pleasant surprise then, during my week in Paris to view several exhibitions of photography and photographs. I almost went into shock!
The first gallery we visited was “A Gallery” as in Gallery “A”.
A. Gallery on Rue Léonce Reynaud, 4 – is a small gallery on the ground floor. Located in the 16th arrondissement, close to Pont de l’Alma, between the Palais de Tokyo and the Fondation Yves Saint-Laurent – no fee to look around. At the time there was an exhibition titled Best of the West featuring several top photographers. Photo portraits were of the likes of Mike Tyson, Barak Obama, Steve McQueen, Al Pacino, David Bowie etc. Quality detailed large format prints – very nicely displayed. The guy in charge of the gallery barely looked up when we walked in – he’d obviously realised with a mere glance at us that we were not there to buy, only to look.
Another gallery – Gallery Les Douches – is on a back street at 5 Rue Legouvé. When we arrived, the door was locked, but press the buzzer and they let you in. The gallery is on the first floor – no lift, so no use for wheelchairs. Again it was free of charge and featured photos by two women photographers – Vivian Maier and Berenice Abbott.
Unlike at Gallery A, the staff here were very welcoming and issued us with brochures of the photographs on display and pointed us in the right direction. As well as the photos on the walls, there were also tables with photography books and we were invited to sit and peruse the books for as long as we liked.
I had not heard of Abbott before – she got her start in photography as a dark room assistant to Man Ray.
Man Ray wanted someone who had never been involved in photography before, so he could mould them to his way of doing things. She learned how he set up his photo shoots and went on from there to be a photographer in her own right……and a good one at that. After learning from Man Ray, she set up her own studio in Paris before re-locating to New York, which is where she came into her own as a photographer. Most of her more iconic photos were taken in the period between the two world wars.
Vivian Maier’s story is both amazing and sad at the same time. I have already mentioned her in an earlier post I wrote about women photographers. She was an unknown in the photographic world almost until her death. During her life she would come to amass a group of storage lockers stuffed to the brim with found items, art books, newspaper clippings, home films, as well as over 30,000 negatives and 3,000 prints and a huge quantity of undeveloped, exposed film. Due to non-payment of rent on her storage lockers, her property was forfeit and auctioned off.
Most of which was purchased – as an unknown item – by one John Maloof for the princely sum of US$400 at auction in Chicago in 2007.
Thankfully Maloof, a history and photography buff, went to great lengths (and personal expense) to get Maier’s images out into the world.
At this time Vivian was still alive but almost destitute – bouncing from homelessness to a small studio apartment paid for by a family that she once worked for. In 2008 she slipped on a patch of ice and sustained a head injury. Although expected to recover she died in a nursing home in April 2009. She had no family.
I had already seen the documentary film – finding Vivian Maier and purchased one of the books of her photographs so I knew quite a lot about her. Her speciality was documentary / street photography. She worked as a nanny and would take the children in her care on field trips around the city and photograph anything that took her fancy. By accident almost she ended up documenting, in her photographs, over 40 years of american history. And yes….I am a fan.
The final photography gallery we visited was Maison Europeenne de la Photographie, Ville de Paris at 5/7 Rue de Fourcy, 75004 Paris. For the first time on this trip we had to queue (40 minutes) to get into a photo gallery……and pay 8 euros to get in.
But there were exhibits by 7 different photographers over several floors of the building…..the star of which was Herb Ritts.
Ritts was a friend of Richard Gere before either of them became famous. He took photos of Gere which later gave him a foot in the door of the world of photographing celebrities. In the 80’s and 90’s he took photos of many celebrities and also took a series of fashion and nude photographs of fashion models Naomi Campbell, Stephanie Seymour, Tatjana Patitz, Christy Turlington, and Cindy Crawford. He worked mainly in black and white and made some iconic images. Sadly on December 26, 2002, Ritts died of complications from pneumonia at the age of 50.
So after having not much luck at finding photo galleries on the rest of this trip I almost overdose on them here in Paris. Wonderful!
My first ever overseas trip was a school exchange trip – to live with a German family in the town of Arnsberg in what was, at the time, West Germany. I was fourteen years old and although I was initially homesick and found actual spoken German, rather than school boy German, difficult to understand – in the end I thoroughly enjoyed the experience and became well and truly bitten by the travel bug.
Since then I have travelled all over Europe, the UK, the Mediterranean area including a couple of north African countries, Australia, New Zealand, Indonesia, a few of the Pacific Islands, The USA, Canada and Mexico. I don’t have heaps of money so usually this means travelling on a tight budget – even backpacking and hitch hiking. Naturally I have my favourite places – places I would willingly return to time and time again. In general I try to avoid some of the busiest cities – countries capitals – BUT I must admit to having a love affair with the French capital Paris.
For me, Paris has everything. My passions are writing, photography, art, travel – not to mention good wine and rich strong coffee. Paris offers up all these and more. It’s been a magnet for writers and artists, connoisseurs of fine wines and foods, travellers, poets and of course, being the city of romance – lovers.
All the best writers of old had lived and written in Paris – F Scott Fitzgerald and Ernest Hemingway to name but two. Of course France produced many famous writers of its own including Proust, Dumas, Flaubert, Sartre and we can’t miss out Voltaire. Paris was and is still a breeding ground for literature, philosophy, art, fashion and new ideas of all kinds
One of my highlights was visiting Shakespeare & Company book shop (twice). What an awesome book shop. A warren of rooms, packed bookshelves, books piled in every space, little sayings and quotes printed on the walls and stairs, and of course just breathing in the history of the place. The building used to be part of a 17th century monastery, although this particular shop was only opened in the 1950’s. Many famous writers, actors and artists have graced its rooms – Allen Ginsberg, William S. Burroughs, Anaïs Nin, Richard Wright, William Styron, Julio Cortázar, Henry Miller, William Saroyan, Lawrence Durrell, James Jones, and James Baldwin were some of the first. As an english language book shop in the heart of Paris, it became a haven for American and British ex-pats. Some have even slept there amongst the books, early in their careers (such as Ethan Hawke and Geoffrey Rush) or when down on their luck. From day one owner George Whitman encouraged writers and artists to seek shelter in his shop – a place to sleep and eat a meagre meal, in exchange for a couple of hours of work (and they also had to write a short bio and promise to read a book a day while living there). It’s been estimated that over 30,000 people, over the years the shop has been in business, have taken up the offer of food and shelter. It’s been owned by the same family throughout. Opened by George Whitman in 1951 (originally under the name of Le Mistral) and run either by him or under his watchful eye until he died in 2011 aged 98. His daughter Sylvia – named after Sylvia Beach, who founded the original Shakespeare & Company in 1919 on rue de l’Odeon – took over management of the shop in 2006. In 1964 on Shakespeare’s 4ooth birthday, and with the blessing of Sylvia Beach, the name of the shop was changed to what it is today – Shakespeare & Company. On my first visit, to the shop, I bought “My Brain on Fire” by Leonard Pitt – about his experiences living in Paris as a young man. Of his struggles to become a writer, living in a garret – naturally – and his mishaps in romance. I thoroughly enjoyed the book and read it before leaving Paris, it was so enthralling. I was lucky enough to get a signed copy.
On my second visit a few days later I bought the book about the shop – “Shakespeare & Company Paris” and subtitled “A History of the Rag and Bone Shop of the Heart”. It’s been compiled partly from George Whitman’s notes and letters and partly by the many many people who have lived and worked in the shop over the years. It has photos, notes, receipts, short biographies and notices throughout its pages – edited by Krista Halverson – it’s a delightful book to own and to read. It gives a real understanding of life in the shop – bedbugs and all – and provides a window into the eccentricity of an interesting, passionate and complex man who’s dream and life this shop became. It is available from the many on-line retailers but my advice would be to go to the shop yourself, pick up a copy and absorb some of that magical atmosphere.
Part two to follow soon…….
Whilst I agree that some poetry of old was as corny as a Hallmark greeting card. I do lament the passing – or apparent passing of the rhyme. And although I am sure that a lot of thought and agonising goes into more “modern poetry” – to an onlooker who knows little about poetry or poems (namely me), some of what these days goes under the guise of poetry can seem to be random thoughts jotted down in broken prose….to shorten the lines to make it look like a poem on the page……without the rhyming couplets etc.
I do however realise that there is merit in, and room for, all kinds of poetry and poets. I mean no offense. So….dipping my quill into the inkpot……here’s my Eulogy for the Poets.
When I was a child all poetry rhymed
But poetry like everything changes with time
Rhyming words on the end of lines gone, I suppose
Poems have been hacked and become chopped up prose
The mad poet swings the axe
Attacks the words once fluid
Now abrupt and angry rampage
Across the page, undisciplined rage
Against established system
Rebelious writers turn their backs
No more Ballads, No more Sonnets
Mindless acts, thoughtless hacks
Gone Wordsworth, Shelley, Tennyson, Keats
Trampled under heavy boots, pounding feet
Great poets and poems crushed
Tradition down the toilet flushed.
Golden leaves crunch underfoot
On pavements wet with rain
As Hugo’s gargoyles gaze down
Upon the riverbanks lined
With purveyors of nostalgic words
Swathed in scarves and coats heavy
Against the approach of winters promised chill
For winter brings death
But here in the Bards house of books
George Whitmans’ reality
Readers breathe new life
Into the written word
Literature’s dream lives on
Its pulse is strong
And ‘Beats’ to the words and worlds
Of Ginsberg, Burroughs and Kerouac
These walls a haven
To writers and artists in need
It is indeed the ever beating heart
Of this city that is…..Paris.
I was given my first camera before I reached my teens. It was a simple point and shoot Kodak film camera, but it was the start of my love affair with photography. For birthdays and Christmas presents I’d sometimes receive money and that would go straight in the money box to upgrade eventually to an SLR, but the only one in my price range was a Russian Zenith brand camera. I bought it anyway, despite it’s poor reviews in camera mags. More money came in and I added an extra lens and some filters. It just felt right….having the SLR and a big lens on shooting wildlife in the woods. The resulting photos were OK….better than I could get with the point and shoot so I was happy.
In my mid teens, after school and on weekends I worked at the local supermarket and eventually saved enough money to buy a “real” camera. I’d been awestruck by celebrity photographer of the day David Bailey, who didn’t just photograph the “jet set” – he was part of it. He was one of the biggest stars around and photographed anyone who was at the top of their profession. Movie stars, rock stars, top models, celebrities of all types, world leaders….all the movers and shakers were photographed by David Bailey. So, when I saw him on T.V. advertising the Olympus OM10 SLR I knew I had to have it.
I wasn’t disappointed. It was a nice camera. Much lighter and better quality than the Zenith and a stylier look too. It came with a standard 50mm lens. I got my first zoom lens to go with it and then added a wide angle lens and I was all set up. Of course that was longer ago than I care to admit and over the years I moved with the times…..dabbled with Polaroid instant photos in addition to the OM10….had a go with a few other film cameras in various formats (including a twin lens reflex that produced square nagatives) and eventually when the quality of digital photography reached an acceptable level I made the switch to digital – DSLR’s. Firstly Fujifilm digital cameras – in fact I still occasionally use my Fuji HS10 which has a wonderful 24 – 720mm lens. The only real let down is the speed of focus (and the size of the sensor). It produces some nice clear and bright images.
At the moment I have a couple of Nikon bodies and lenses in my camera bag. BUT this article isn’t about me and my cameras it’s about the photographers I admire or who influenced me over the years. Yes Bailey was the first, so when I came across his book “Locations” in a local book store I bought it for old times sake. Turning over the pages I see again what attracted me to his style of photography – the glamour and the “beautiful people” – and yet it now seems somewhat tawdry (false, showy but cheap).
The above pic shows a German Language version of the book. I have the English version. Actually, and not meaning to be unkind to the lady on the front of the book but, you wouldn’t know from the cover that he was a glamour photographer. He was famous for having affairs with a number of his models and even married two of them. In 1975 he married American fashion model and writer Marie Helvin; and in 1986 the model Catherine Dyer (born 20 July 1961), to whom he remains married. One of his most famous books featuring photos of Helvin in various stages of undress was “Trouble and Strife”.
These days I have a number of photographic heroes and heroines. The Heroines I already touched on in an earlier post, so I’ll talk about the male photographers and the books of theirs that grace my bookcases and coffee table.
My passions – other than writing – are photography and travel, so no surprise that one of my favourite photographers – probably my overall favourite – is Steve McCurry, who’s photo “Afghan Girl” shot him to stardom.
Above “Afghan Girl” photo on left and McCurry on right. His photo of “the Afghan Girl” graced both the cover of National Geographic magazine and at least one (if not more) Nat Geo hard cover book “The Photographs”….which I also have on my bookshelf.
He tends to work in Asia a lot, particularly India where he makes the most of the vibrant colours. I don’t think that there is a photographer any better when it comes to colour photography. He has an eye for the right shot and will scope out a setting for a long time waiting for the right person wearing the right colours to walk by a particular scene. The brightly coloured saris and the pastel coloured buildings in India are perfect subjects for him to photograph. I have a number of his books including “The Path to Buddha”, “Untold – the stories behind the photographs” and a small format Phaidon book simply titled “Steve McCurry”.
The above photo is both inside and on the cover of his book. The photo initially received rave reviews – until it came out that he had actually set up the shot. It seemed on the surface that it was a shot of a girl lifting her face to the rains of the monsoon – BUT he’d set it up with an assistant holding a hose on a ladder and having his model pose under the hose. Either way, it’s still a very nice shot. I have Brake’s “Monsoon” along side another of his books “Lens on the World” beside my Steve McCurry books, on my book case, in my office.
“Lens on the World” covers a huge range of Brakes photos throughout his career.
I have just the one book by Helmut Newton – “Polaroids”. I have been in awe of Newton’s statuesque nudes for years. He also photographs celebrities, rock stars etc. When I was in Paris in 2016 I saw an exhibition of his huge format photos at the Maison Européenne de la Photographie – located at n. 5, Rue de Fourcy. It was only when I saw these huge, larger than life prints up close – the clarity was amazing – that I realised what a good photographer he is… or I should say was. Although most of the prints at the exhibition were in black and white he also worked in colour. I suppose I’d have to put him in the same catagory as David Bailey – a glamour and glamorous photographer, who lived the lifestyle of the rich and the famous.
“Elliot Erwitt’s Paris“. I had to buy this book – by one of my favourite photographers – of photos of one of my favourite cities in the world.
Elliott Erwitt (yet another member of Magnum) – classed as an American photographer but born in France -for me is one of the finest photographers at “capturing the moment”. It’s a real skill out on the street to capture the right shot at the right time. One second too early or one second too late and the shot is meaningless. Hit the shot in the sweet spot and you have as Henri Cartier-Bresson’s coined it “captured the decisive moment”. He enjoys taking photos of the absurd….loves getting down to the level of dogs (he loves to photograph dogs and has an entire book of dog photos)…and really has fun with his camera. Which is why, now in his 90’s, he is still putting out books of his work. He has often said he has never worked a day in his life….taking photos is a joy not a job. Two examples of his work are below.
Another master of Street Photography – another Frenchman – Robert Doisneau is another of my favourites. Probably his most famous photo is also his most infamous photo. Doisneau is renowned for his 1950 image Le baiser de l’hôtel de ville (Kiss by the Town Hall), a photograph of a couple kissing on a busy Parisian street.
Initially hailed as a masterpiece of “catching the moment” – it was later revealed that it was posed specially for the photographer to get the shot. Posed or not, it’s still a great photo and graces the cover of the Taschen produced “Icons” (as in Icons of photography)book on my shelf. He, like Erwitt loved capturing comedic shots like the one below of a gendarme – captured at just the right moment.
And to round things off I’ll just mention books I have of a couple of the pioneers of photography…Edward Weston – an American photographer who’s favoured photographic subjects were of nudes or of close up shots of peppers and shells although, in a career spanning 40 years, he also photographed a variety of still life, portraits and landscapes. He has been called one of the most influential and innovative of America’s photographers. Again, like Bailey his nude studies seemed to be of women he had relationships with, most famous of these was Tina Modetti – a stage and film actress who later became a photographer in her own right.
His early photos were soft focus but as he progressed he became The Master of detailed photography producing incredibly clear images with what was at the time fairly primitive equipment.
…and finally no photographic library is complete without at least one book by Ansel Adams. Most famous for his photos of the Yosemite region of the USA – his photos of the great outdoors are legendary. He first visited Yosemite with his family back in 1916 when he was given his first camera, a box brownie, by his father. The rest, as they say, is history. As a professional photographer, working in large format he produced very clear detailed photos and like his fellow photographer Edward Weston was a founding member of the f/64 group of photographers. His work has been reproduced in books, magazines and calendars – and his images are still being used – even though he has been dead for over 30 years. True quality does not date.
His book “400 photographs” is one of the books that I often look at for inspiration.
The above books are some of my favourite “go to” books when I need a photographic lift and are a small selection of my library of photographic books. I’m just testing the water here. If you’d like me to share more about my collection of photography books, please comment below.