Exhibition: ‘Seydou Keïta: A Tactile Lens’ at the Brooklyn Museum, New York

Exhibition dates: 10th October, 2025 – 17th May, 2026

Curators: Guest curator Catherine E. McKinley with Imani Williford, Curatorial Assistant, Photography, Fashion, and Material Culture, Brooklyn Museum

 

Seydou Keïta (Malian, c. 1921-2001) 'Untitled' 1954 from the exhibition Exhibition: 'Seydou Keïta: A Tactile Lens' at the Brooklyn Museum, New York, October 2025 - May 2026

 

Seydou Keïta (Malian, c. 1921-2001)
Untitled
1954
Vintage gelatin silver print
Courtesy of The Jean Pigozzi African Art Collection
© SKPEAC/Seydou Keïta
Courtesy The Jean Pigozzi Collection of African Art and Danziger Gallery, NY

 

 

In African light

The Brooklyn Museum continues to orchestrate (now that’s an appropriate word) wonderful exhibitions that select, organise, and interpret items in “interpretive exhibitions”- curating and contextualising these items in order to establish their meaning, history, and cultural significance. In this regard the magnificent exhibition Seydou Keïta: A Tactile Lens is no exception.

In the exhibition Keïta’s direct, honest, and incisive black and white photographs – often taken outdoors on bare earth in natural light with mud walls, hanging textiles and blankets as backdrops – are contextualised with regard to West African history, placed in context “in a period defined by a rapidly expanding modern world and a new sense of Bamakois identity.” (Press release)

In the Brooklyn show Keïta’s photographs from the African environment are surrounded by cultural artefacts that reflect a new sense of nationhood as Mali moved toward independence post-French colonialism – “clothing, hand-fashioned dresses … pagnes (wrappers), wall hangings, and commemorative cloths that span the rich history of Malian textile design and trade”, gold, jewellery, lace, marabaka (a Czech-style hat that became a widespread symbol of Pan-African solidarity), traditional and modern textiles, blankets, family heirlooms, family photographs and a trove of film negatives – all combining to create a rich mosaic of references, an intertextuality (where things refer to, influence, or interrelate with one another) of identity, place and space.

What is particularly interesting about the presentation at the Brooklyn Museum is the mixture of vintage and modern prints, where the viewer can compare the scale and tonalities of old and new, where small jewel-like gold toned and hand-coloured prints of great presence and intensity can be compared to larger, contrast laden modern prints (for which the artist has become famous) which reveal hidden details in the negative.

Also of interest is the exhibition design itself in which the different colour of the walls, the spaces between them, the symmetrical layout, together with the clothing, textiles and wall hangings … all add a terrific spatial dimension to the whole. Witness the entrance to the exhibition where Keïta’s vintage photograph Untitled (1954, above) is placed in communion with a larger modern print, allowing the viewer to compare and contrast both old and new, one of the major pictorial themes of the exhibition. Then – and this is to me the essence of good exhibition design – you look at the line of sight of that entrance and in the space between the walls hanging in the distance, hovering above the photographs, is a colourful textile banner with face and garment which the viewer can visually correlate to the garments of the three women standing in front of the car in the modern print below. Just a small thing but inspiring exhibition design nonetheless, which reflects the holism of the exhibition.

Along with the work of other African photographers such as Malike Sidibé (Malian, 1935-2016), James Barnor (Ghanian, b. 1929) and Sanlé Sory (West African, b. 1943), Keïta’s photographs help touch, in African light, that most wonderful sense of the spirit and culture of a nascent independent nation, evidenced in his images through an intimate interconnection between people and place.

What is undeniable is that there is nothing like a photograph to remind you of difference, to challenge your perceptions on how you view and interact with the world around you, to open up new ways of seeing (Professor Stuart Hall). Thus the photographs in this exhibition may allow us a deeper insight into not only the conditions of our own becoming (while human beings have agency, the circumstances under which they act and develop their humanity are largely shaped by existing material, social, and historical conditions that they did not choose) but the conditions of other people’s becoming.

Hopefully these insights in turn promote a greater understanding and acceptance of difference in others in opposition to learnt bigotry and racism.

Just the joy of picturing, and being, and living, human.

Dr Marcus Bunyan


Many thankx to the Brooklyn Museum for allowing me to publish the photographs in the posting. Please click on the photographs for a larger version of the image.

 

 

Installation view of the exhibition 'Seydou Keïta: A Tactile Lens' at the Brooklyn Museum, New York, October 2025 - May 2026
Installation view of the exhibition 'Seydou Keïta: A Tactile Lens' at the Brooklyn Museum, New York, October 2025 - May 2026

 

Installation views of the exhibition ‘Seydou Keïta: A Tactile Lens’ at the Brooklyn Museum, New York, October 2025 – May 2026 showing Keïta’s self-portrait Untitled, 1956

 

Dressed in a crisp white shirt, holding a flower gently to his chin, Keïta turns the camera on himself with the same control and precision he granted his subjects. As French Soudan faced political uncertainty and turmoil in the lead-up to independence, Keïta’s studio, whether indoors or on the street, offered sitters a place to create a self of one’s own.

 

Installation view of the exhibition 'Seydou Keïta: A Tactile Lens' at the Brooklyn Museum, New York, October 2025 - May 2026
Installation view of the exhibition 'Seydou Keïta: A Tactile Lens' at the Brooklyn Museum, New York, October 2025 - May 2026 showing Keïta's photograph 'Untitled' 1954
Installation view of the exhibition 'Seydou Keïta: A Tactile Lens' at the Brooklyn Museum, New York, October 2025 - May 2026 showing Keïta's photograph 'Untitled' 1954

 

Installation views of the exhibition Seydou Keïta: A Tactile Lens at the Brooklyn Museum, New York, October 2025 – May 2026 showing in the bottom two images, Keïta’s photograph Untitled 1954 (above)

 

The smaller, vintage print and the larger, modern one of Keïta’s 1954 photograph highlight the material and historical distinctions between the types of prints on view in the exhibition. Often made by Keïta himself, the vintage prints were produced around the time the photograph was taken. Such works feature a particular range of tonalities – the result of earlier technologies, less environmental control in the darkroom, and the paper’s age. The modern prints were made later in Keïta’s life, some of them posthumously. These works are larger, in part, to accentuate the details of the image, such as Keïta’s own reflection on the car’s surface. Following his landmark New York and Paris exhibitions in the 1990s, Keïta came to be known for the distinctive black-and-white tonalities of these modern prints.

Reflecting on his work in 1997, Keïta revealed he had always hoped to make large-format prints (30 x 40 in., 40 x 50 in., and 50 x 60 in.) but seldom had the chance. Sitters rarely requested them due to cost. Together, both vintage and modern prints demonstrate the range and impact of Keïta’s artistry. They also inspire questions about photography’s nature as both artwork and heirloom objects imbued with social and ritual meaning as they pass from hand to hand.

 

 

Encounter an artist who changed the face of portrait photography. Seydou Keïta: A Tactile Lens is the most expansive North American exhibition of the legendary Malian photographer’s work to date. More than 280 works include iconic prints, never-before-seen portraits, textiles, and Keïta’s personal artifacts, all brought to life with unique insights from his family.

Organised by the Brooklyn Museum, the exhibition brings us to Bamako from the late 1940s to early 1960s, an era of profound political and social transformation. Collaborating closely with his sitters, Keïta recorded Mali’s evolution through their choices of backdrops, accessories, and apparel, from traditional finery to European suits. These bold yet sensitive photographs began to circulate in West Africa nearly 80 years ago. In the early 1990s, they reached Western viewers, rocking the art world and cementing Keïta as the premier studio photographer of 20th-century Africa – a peer of August Sander, Irving Penn, and Richard Avedon.

Witness the power of photography through these richly layered images, which reveal not only Malians’ emotional landscapes but also the textures of life in a rapidly changing country.

A fully illustrated catalogue accompanies the exhibition, offering new insights into the photographer, his work, and Malian material culture. The publication features a biography by Catherine E. McKinley based on extensive interviews with Keïta’s heirs, as well as essays by prominent scholars and curators including Drew Sawyer, Howard W. French, Duncan Clarke, Awa Konate, Sana Ginwalla, and Jennifer Bajorek.

Text from the Brooklyn Museum website

 

Installation view of the exhibition 'Seydou Keïta: A Tactile Lens' at the Brooklyn Museum, New York, October 2025 - May 2026
Installation view of the exhibition 'Seydou Keïta: A Tactile Lens' at the Brooklyn Museum, New York, October 2025 - May 2026
Installation view of the exhibition 'Seydou Keïta: A Tactile Lens' at the Brooklyn Museum, New York, October 2025 - May 2026
Installation view of the exhibition 'Seydou Keïta: A Tactile Lens' at the Brooklyn Museum, New York, October 2025 - May 2026

 

Installation views of the exhibition Seydou Keïta: A Tactile Lens at the Brooklyn Museum, New York, October 2025 – May 2026 showing at left in the bottom image, Keïta’s photograph Untitled 1949-1951 (below)

 

Seydou Keïta (Malian, c. 1921-2001) 'Untitled' 1949-1951, printed 1998

 

Seydou Keïta (Malian, c. 1921-2001)
Untitled
1949-1951, printed 1998
Gelatin silver print
Courtesy of The Jean Pigozzi African Art Collection
© SKPEAC/Seydou Keïta
Courtesy The Jean Pigozzi Collection of African Art and Danziger Gallery, NY

 

 

The exhibition Seydou Keïta: A Tactile Lens honors the artistry and legacy of Seydou Keïta (Malian, c. 1921-2001), who documented a critical chapter in West African history – one of immense hope, politically and socially – in a period defined by a rapidly expanding modern world and a new sense of Bamakois identity. The show features over 280 works, including renowned portraits, rare images, and never-before- seen negatives as well as textiles, jewellery, dresses, and personal items that fully immerse visitors in Keïta’s rich photographic landscape. Seydou Keïta: A Tactile Lens is organised by guest curator Catherine E. McKinley with Imani Williford, Curatorial Assistant, Photography, Fashion, and Material Culture, Brooklyn Museum.

Keïta was born around 1921 to a Malinke family in Bamako-Coura, or New Bamako, a growing colonial commercial center within the historic Malian city. His childhood saw emerging liberation struggles across the continent and growing expressions of modernism as Bamako served as the capital of French Soudan and subsequently the newly independent Mali in 1960.

Keïta documented Malian society in the late 1940s to early 1960s, an era of transformation and aspirations for independent statehood. A master at lighting and composition, Keïta has a unique ability to capture the tactile qualities of his sitters – from their fashion and choice of accessories to the personality and self-presentation they put forward. In collaboration with his subjects, he sculpted their poses, clothing, and style, forming monuments to their selfhood. When they first reached Western viewers in the early 1990s, his images drew unprecedented attention in the worlds of art, music, fashion, design, and popular media, forever changing the global cultural landscape. Today, these bold and engaging portraits continue to invite viewers into direct dialogue with Keita’s sitters.

Largely self-taught, Keïta first received a camera as a gift from his uncle at age 14. In 1935, he became an apprentice to his mentor, Mountaga Dembélé (1919-2004), Mali’s first professional photographer to earn a living with his studio. From there, Keïta opened his own studio in 1948 in front of his family home in Bamako-Coura, becoming Mali’s second photographer. The studio became a destination for people from all levels of Malian society, welcoming not just the elite citizens of Bamako but also remote villagers, international travelers, and those passing through on the Dakar-Niger railroad. Keïta’s work is notable for capturing how the people in his studio saw themselves, allowing for a playful self-expression backgrounded by increasing political tensions and rapid evolutions in the government. His studio offered props, including European and Malian clothing, motorbikes, Western watches, and novelties. Through the years, Keïta developed his very own style of portrait photography and a new type of modernist expression.

This period lasted until 1963, when Keïta was enlisted to work for the newly independent Socialist Republic of Mali. Forced to relinquish his studio, he documented state affairs and performed forensics for increasingly punitive governments until 1968 when he retired to work in camera and automotive repairs. In May 1991, the exhibition Africa Explores: Twentieth Century African Arts opened at the Center for African Arts in New York, where Keïta first debuted to Western audiences. In 1994, the Fondation Cartier in Paris presented Keïta’s first solo exhibition, which rocked the art and photography world, cementing him as the premiere African studio photographer of the twentieth century. The exhibition positioned Keïta as a peer of noted photographers such as Irving Penn, August Sander, and Richard Avedon, his contemporaries in portrait photography, and created enormous interest in Keïta’s work.

“Thirty-four years since Keïta was first introduced to American audiences we have an opportunity to view new discoveries in his work and understand just how singular he was, practicing at one of the most pivotal moments in African and world history. He had an extraordinary artist’s ability to render the tactile. We can visually ‘finger the grain’ of the sitter’s lives and better understand them beyond just their relationship to studio photography or documentary,” says Catherine E. McKinley, guest curator, author of The African Lookbook, and director of The McKinley Collection.

“It is very exciting and deeply moving to rediscover Keïta’s work and to feel the presence of his sitters – some of whom we meet here for the very first time – thanks to Catherine E. McKinley’s thoughtful research,” says Pauline Vermare, Phillip and Edith Leonian Curator of Photography. “We hope visitors feel the wonder and possibility that Keïta’s studio represented for so many people.”

A Tactile Lens brings together a remarkable range of Keïta’s photographs, which demonstrate the breadth of his oeuvre and the splendour of his artistry. Thanks to a generous loan from the Keïta family, an extraordinary group of never-before-published works has been preserved and imaged by the Museum on the occasion of the exhibition. A selection of the portraits will be displayed – on lightboxes and as a projection – for the first time. In addition, an array of vintage prints, many made by Keïta himself, and some of which are hand-painted, offer renewed emphasis on the photographic object itself. Rounding out the selection are larger prints made later in Keïta’s life, or posthumously, which feature the distinctive black-and-white tonalities that Keïta came to be known for. Joining the photographs is an immersive installation of personal belongings, textiles, garments, and jewellery that can be seen in Keïta’s portraits.

Together, these objects highlight the self-invention, search for identity, and syncretism of Mali that Keïta’s sitters sought in the mid-twentieth century.

A fully illustrated catalogue will accompany the exhibition, featuring a new biographical essay by Catherine E. McKinley based on extensive interviews with his heirs and from leading art professionals and historians such as Jennifer Bajorek, Duncan Clarke, Howard W. French, Sana Ginwalla, Awa Konaté, and Drew Sawyer, offering new insights into the photographer, his work, and Malian material culture.

Press release from the Brooklyn Museum

 

Installation view of the exhibition 'Seydou Keïta: A Tactile Lens' at the Brooklyn Museum, New York, October 2025 - May 2026
Installation view of the exhibition 'Seydou Keïta: A Tactile Lens' at the Brooklyn Museum, New York, October 2025 - May 2026

 

Installation views of the exhibition Seydou Keïta: A Tactile Lens at the Brooklyn Museum, New York, October 2025 – May 2026 showing at third left in the bottom image, Keïta’s photograph Untitled 1952-1955 (below); and at right, Untitled 1956-1957 (below)

 

Seydou Keïta (Malian, c. 1921-2001) 'Untitled' 1952-1955, printed 1994

 

Seydou Keïta (Malian, c. 1921-2001)
Untitled
1952-1955, printed 1994
Gelatin silver print
© SKPEAC/Seydou Keïta
Courtesy The Jean Pigozzi Collection of African Art and Danziger Gallery, NY

 

Looking over her shoulder, her back to the camera, this woman flaunts the French coins – called Louis d’or – hanging at her temples. Gold held decorative and talismanic properties: the shine of the metal was believed to ward off
the evil eye and protect the head and soul of the wearer.

 

Seydou Keïta (Malian, c. 1921-2001) 'Untitled' 1956-1957, printed 1994

 

Seydou Keïta (Malian, c. 1921-2001)
Untitled
1956-1957, printed 1994
Gelatin silver print
© SKPEAC/Seydou Keïta
Courtesy The Jean Pigozzi Collection of African Art and Danziger Gallery, NY

 

 

When Seydou Keïta opened his photography studio in 1948 in Bamako, Mali (then part of French Soudan), the region was on the cusp of dramatic transformation. After more than seventy years of French colonial rule, the country would soon gain independence as the Republic of Mali in 1960. With extraordinary sensitivity, Keïta documented a profoundly pluralistic society at a crossroads. Mali at this time faced intense ideological clashes over its future, emerging concepts of statehood, and how to reconcile Malian and European visions of modernity with indigenous systems. 

As a photographer, Keïta possessed a singular ability to convey a tactile presence, finding the exquisite in details that communicate the inner lives of his subjects. They gaze into the camera with self-assurance and poise, presenting themselves in an array of fashions and posing with studio props or treasured personal possessions. With nuance and care, Keïta chronicled the elegance and sophistication of his sitters’ self-expression during a pivotal moment of nation-building. 

Organised thematically, this exhibition highlights the breadth of Keïta’s vibrant oeuvre, spanning iconic portraits and rarely seen photographs to never-before-shown film negatives. A selection of textiles, garments, and jewellery, in turn, illuminates the layered social and cultural exchanges reflected in his portraits. This presentation is also informed and enriched by contributions from the Keïta family. Their oral histories and loan of personal heirlooms and negatives, uncovered in the family archive, helpshed new light on his studio practice and enduring legacy. Seydou Keïta: A Tactile Lens invites visitors to connect with Keïta and his subjects’ intimate pursuit of identity, selfhood, and community.

Self-portraiture

Seydou Keïta’s photography business expanded and deepened the relationships between the artist, his family, and his art. His younger siblings and children were active participants in his studio. They arranged and held up backdrops as he shot, assisted with equipment, and performed the tea rituals that were at the centre of social exchanges. Family members often waited late into the evening for the final sitters to leave before coming to sleep in the studio – one of the few places in Bamako with electricity – while Keïta worked well into the night in his darkroom. 

Keïta often used the final frames on a roll of film to photograph himself and his family – intimate and striking images that became part of his oeuvre. These portraits reflect his deeply felt responsibility as a Malinke patriarch, able to provide for his large extended family a life of modern comfort due to an unusual and enviable talent that would reach a world stage. His brothers describe Keïta’s “immaculate” presentation of a social self – a man who valued social reserve and Malinke tenets of modesty and stern leadership. In these portraits, we also see him as a self-styled bon vivant, carefree in his European sportswear and playfully connected to those around him.

 

Installation view of the exhibition 'Seydou Keïta: A Tactile Lens' at the Brooklyn Museum, New York, October 2025 - May 2026 showing at left text for the section "Self-portraiture" and then Keïta's 'Untitled' 1956, printed 2018

 

Installation view of the exhibition Seydou Keïta: A Tactile Lens at the Brooklyn Museum, New York, October 2025 – May 2026 showing at left text for the section “Self-portraiture” and then Keïta’s Untitled, 1956, printed 2018

 

Dressed in a crisp white shirt, holding a flower gently to his chin, Keïta turns the camera on himself with the same control and precision he granted his subjects. As French Soudan faced political uncertainty and turmoil in the lead-up to independence, Keïta’s studio, whether indoors or on the street, offered sitters a place to create a self of one’s own .

 

Being Bamakois

In 1960 Mali achieved independence, becoming one of seventeen African countries to end colonial rule. “The Year of Africa,” as 1960 became known, intensified vital questions about self-determination, national identity, and the shape of a post-independence future. Even as many Malians embraced the prospect of a free and modern nation-state, debates grew over the roles that religion, the military, and traditional societal structures would play in governance and civil life. 

Bamako’s population doubled in the mid-twentieth century, driven by increased colonial settlement since the 1930s and labor migration from rural areas. Long a cosmopolitan city, post-independence Bamako became a site of new social tensions. The rigid strictures of the systems of French class and indigenous caste, which had coexisted uneasily in the colonial era, were increasingly at odds as Mali became entrenched as a socialist Islamic state. 

In Seydou Keïta’s portraits, Bamako’s citizens sought to express a vision of self and society that mirrored the promises of the growing city. Questions around status, decolonisation, and the ever-evolving definition of what it means to be both Bamakois and modern play out in the symbolic choices behind the making of each photograph.

 

Installation view of the exhibition 'Seydou Keïta: A Tactile Lens' at the Brooklyn Museum, New York, October 2025 - May 2026
Installation view of the exhibition 'Seydou Keïta: A Tactile Lens' at the Brooklyn Museum, New York, October 2025 - May 2026

 

Installation views of the exhibition Seydou Keïta: A Tactile Lens at the Brooklyn Museum, New York, October 2025 – May 2026 showing in the bottom image at bottom second left, Keïta’s photograph Untitled 1957 (below)

 

Seydou Keïta (Malian, c. 1921-2001) 'Untitled' 1957

 

Seydou Keïta (Malian, c. 1921-2001)
Untitled
1957
Vintage gelatin silver print
© SKPEAC/Seydou Keïta
Courtesy The Jean Pigozzi Collection of African Art and Danziger Gallery, NY

 

Posing with aplomb on a Vespa – likely Keïta’s – these women have become the subjects of one of his most iconic photographs, seen here as a vintage print. They present themselves as aspirational members of the Bamako Vespa Club, whose membership was reserved for men. Expensive and rare, Vespas were costly symbols of affluence that were inaccessible to most Bamakois in the French colonial economy. Keïta, one of the club’s founders, purchased his own using earnings from his photography.

 

The Pretenders

In the 1950s, Bamakois began favouring Western novelties – wristwatches, handbags, bicycles, and other imported goods, many of which appear in Seydou Keïta’s portraits – as expressions of their modern dreams and discontents. Expensive and inaccessible to many, imported goods became markers of status, replacing traditional adornment, heirlooms, and protective talismans. This generation would later be dubbed “The Pretenders” by their children, who viewed with scorn their parents’ embrace of French aesthetics and colonial-era fashion. Yet their critique often overlooked the ways their parents had simply transferred the social and spiritual meanings once imbued in gold and other materials to new subjects. 

Ironically, the next generation, who came of age in a newly independent Mali, expressed their own dreams and discontents in the 1960s and 1970s using Western cultural symbols. By embracing American, particularly African American, and British popular culture – dancing to the music of James Brown and The Beatles, wearing afros, dressing in bell bottoms and miniskirts – they pushed back against an increasingly restrictive Islamic socialist regime that promoted particular ideals of Africanity, tradition, and modesty. Their confidence and spirit of rebellion would be captured by the next generation of Malian photographers who followed in Keïta’s footsteps.

Coming of Age

Young men and women often arrived at Seydou Keïta’s studio dressed in their best clothing and adorned with jewellery that hinted at the worth of future dowries or the scale of family ambitions. They posed for portraits that became cherished mementos. Such small-format photographs were exchanged as offerings of friendship, used in matchmaking and marriage proposals, and commemorated births and weddings. They also served as keepsakes of religious holidays such as Eid and Tabaski (Eid al-Adha). Together, the works on view celebrate the beauty of youth and the significance of coming of age – moments of transformation, growth, and entry into adulthood.

The Elegants

Seydou Keïta’s subjects radiate elegance in every photograph, resplendent in tailor-made ensembles that reflect the wearer’s ingenuity and creativity. Many of the outfits seen in Keïta’s portraits blend handwoven West African textiles with Islamic fabrics and imported European cloth, often in inventive ways. Whether made from velvet, Dutch wax print, or eyelet lace, a gown could always be paired with a traditional pagne (wrapper) showing at the hem, adding the requisite touch of beauty. The men, women, and youths on view present themselves as mirrors to the cultural syncretism and self-invention of mid-twentieth-century Bamako. 

As the Islamic socialist regime rose to power in the 1960s and 1970s, it began imposing increased restrictions on dress, enacting punishments and “re-education” for the wearing of Western or secular clothing. Keïta’s portraits capture a brief window just before these strictures took hold – a moment when his sitters fashioned an expression entirely their own. He helped document, in the words of Nigerian art critic Okwui Enwezor, fashion’s power to offer people a means of “resistance to confining oneself.”

 

Seydou Keïta (Malian, c. 1921-2001) 'Untitled' 1959, printed c. 1994-2001

 

Seydou Keïta (Malian, c. 1921-2001)
Untitled
1959, printed, c. 1994-2001
Gelatin silver print
© SKPEAC/Seydou Keïta
Courtesy The Jean Pigozzi Collection of African Art and Danziger Gallery, NY

 

Delicately presenting a plastic flower, this man exudes elegance and poise in his double-breasted suit, silk handkerchief and fountain pen tucked neatly in his breast pocket. He meets the camera’s gaze with inviting eyes that exude a quiet openness. His confident, relaxed presence speaks to Keïta’s gift for making his subjects feel at ease – enabling them to fully express themselves in front of the camera.

 

The Loungers

The figure of the languid, reclining odalisque, or female attendant, is seen by many American and European viewers as an exoticizing colonial trope. However, in Seydou Keïta’s portraits, the lounger appears as a modern Bamakois – worldly, confident, adorned with the enduring garments, jewellery, and symbols of her heritage. In these portraits, each woman asserts her power, status, wealth, and values. The self-fashioned, richly layered settings re-create the intimate interiors of domestic life. The beds, textiles, and Islamic tea ceremonies shown here reflect the subject’s mastery of hospitality – an essential trait for the model Soudanaise woman – as well as her standing in family and society. 

With slender, henna-stained hands and feet, modest dress, and composed bearing, these women affirm traditional social values even as they shape a modern visual identity. These photographs are an ode – to the women, their world, and the form of the lounger herself.

 

Installation view of the exhibition 'Seydou Keïta: A Tactile Lens' at the Brooklyn Museum, New York, October 2025 - May 2026 showing at second right bottom, Keïta's photograph 'Untitled' 1953-1957

 

Installation view of the exhibition Seydou Keïta: A Tactile Lens at the Brooklyn Museum, New York, October 2025 – May 2026 showing at second right bottom, Keïta’s photograph Untitled 1953-1957 (below)

 

Seydou Keïta (Malian, c. 1921-2001) 'Untitled' 1953-1957, printed c. 1994-2001

 

Seydou Keïta (Malian, c. 1921-2001)
Untitled
1953-1957, printed c. 1994-2001
Gelatin silver print
© SKPEAC/Seydou Keïta
Courtesy The Jean Pigozzi Collection of African Art and Danziger Gallery, NY

 

Keïta La

“Keïta La” offers a glimpse into the world of Seydou Keïta’s studio – and into his family’s efforts to steward and preserve his legacy. Together, the objects on view pose important questions about conservation and personal and artistic archives.

In the mid-twentieth century, near the elegant colonial centre of Bamako-Coura, Keïta La, the family compound, sat on a wide avenue that buzzed with traffic and was lined with a canopy of trees, casting dappled shadows that lent a lazy air. Just outside the compound’s walls was the artist’s studio. As a photographer, Keïta moved seamlessly between the compound yard, the avenue, the nearby walls of sites, and the studio and darkroom where he made prints late into the night. Keïta ran the studio until 1963, when he was forced to dedicate himself exclusively to government service. He turned the business over to his brother and sons, who had become familiar with cameras as children. Upon his retirement, he returned to Keïta La – but not to his studio. Instead, he embraced his second love: the repair of cameras and cars.

Today, the Keïta family have been vital collaborators in the conceptualisation of this exhibition, their oral histories enriching our understanding of the man behind the camera. In addition, their loan of the photographer’s few remaining family heirlooms and a trove of film negatives imbues this section with Keïta’s personal presence. These negatives, which have been preserved and imaged by the Brooklyn Museum on the occasion of this exhibition, expand our knowledge of Keïta’s oeuvre. A selection of these portraits is presented here – on lightboxes and as a projection – for the first time.

 

Installation view of the exhibition 'Seydou Keïta: A Tactile Lens' at the Brooklyn Museum, New York, October 2025 - May 2026 showing text for the section "Keïta La" on the left hand wall, as well as the photograph 'Undated family portrait taken in Seydou Keïta's studio'

  

Installation view of the exhibition Seydou Keïta: A Tactile Lens at the Brooklyn Museum, New York, October 2025 – May 2026 showing text for the section “Keïta La” on the left hand wall, as well as the photograph Undated family portrait taken in Seydou Keïta’s studio (below)

 

Undated family portrait taken in Seydou Keïta's studio

 

Undated family portrait taken in Seydou Keïta’s studio
Seated left of centre is Keïta’s uncle Tièmòkò Keïta (wearing eyeglasses), with Hamed Lamine “Papa” Keïta behind him at left and Cheickine Keïta at far right (holding child). Today, Papa and Cheickine serve as the principal stewards of the Keïta estate
Courtesy the Seydou Keïta Family

 

Installation view of the exhibition 'Seydou Keïta: A Tactile Lens' at the Brooklyn Museum, New York, October 2025 - May 2026 showing at left, Keïta's photograph 'Untitled' late 1940s to mid-1970s; and at right, text for the section "Keïta La" together with the photograph 'Undated family portrait taken in Seydou Keïta's studio'

 

Installation view of the exhibition Seydou Keïta: A Tactile Lens at the Brooklyn Museum, New York, October 2025 – May 2026 showing at left, Keïta’s photograph Untitled late 1940s to mid-1970s (below); and at right, text for the section “Keïta La” together with the photograph Undated family portrait taken in Seydou Keïta’s studio (above)

 

Fashioning A New Nation

Photography studios are spaces of performance, an invitation to try on new styles, personas, and identities. Costly and newly available beginning in the 1930s, studio photography offered Seydou Keïta’s subjects a rare chance to see themselves not in a mirror or a small I.D. photo, but as others might. As French Soudan approached independence, fashion increasingly became a site of negotiation – blending ethnic and religious aesthetics, Pan-African identity, and even Hollywood glamour. 

This gallery brings together prestige clothing, hand-fashioned dresses – some with the exquisite detailing of couture – pagnes (wrappers), wall hangings, and commemorative cloths that span the rich history of Malian textile design and trade. It also pays homage to the boubou, the marker of West African elegance, that became a quiet symbol of anti-colonial resistance in the postwar years. While European imported cloth had been highly coveted in West Africa since the seventeenth century, colonial trade restrictions and the economic impact of World War II made such materials harder to access, sparking new forms of creativity. Bright synthetic dyes, hybrid silhouettes, and inventive combinations of tradition and modernity emerged in response. 

The works on view reflect both this history of innovation and the distinctly Malian patterning that serves as a through line for textile designs from as early as the eleventh century. Trending styles of 1940s-60s Bamako are juxtaposed with the early 1980s sartorial legacy of post-independence Mali. Some are nearly identical to the garments and backdrops featured in Keïta’s photographs; others represent the diverse cultural, ethnic, and regional affiliations of his sitters. Grouped by theme, this section invites a closer look at pattern, colour, weave, and technique to give further dimension – and colour – to the fashions worn by Keïta’s subjects.

 

Installation view of the exhibition 'Seydou Keïta: A Tactile Lens' at the Brooklyn Museum, New York, October 2025 - May 2026
Installation view of the exhibition 'Seydou Keïta: A Tactile Lens' at the Brooklyn Museum, New York, October 2025 - May 2026
Installation view of the exhibition 'Seydou Keïta: A Tactile Lens' at the Brooklyn Museum, New York, October 2025 - May 2026
Installation view of the exhibition 'Seydou Keïta: A Tactile Lens' at the Brooklyn Museum, New York, October 2025 - May 2026

 

Installation views of the exhibition Seydou Keïta: A Tactile Lens at the Brooklyn Museum, New York, October 2025 – May 2026 showing text from the section “Fashioning A New Nation”

 

Handheld

“Fly dirt,” pen marks, dog-eared corners, red Sahelian dust, humidity, and traces of touch infuse Keïta’s vintage prints with a particular life and beauty. Each print is indelibly marked by the photographer, the printer, and the many hands through which it has passed – as tokens, gifts, souvenirs, expressions of love, ritual displays, or precious heirlooms. 

Since Keïta first became known in Europe and the United States in the 1990s, vintage prints of his photographs have made their way into private collections and institutional archives. Despite consisting of the same images, they were often considered secondary to the modern prints that were produced, exhibited, and stored as fine art pieces. Only recently has this value system been upended, reflecting shifts in the art market and in the field of art history. As African studio photography continues to gain recognition, artists and arts professionals of the African diaspora have called for such images to be valued not by colonial or market standards but by their material history and significance as loved, cherished objects.

 

Installation view of the exhibition 'Seydou Keïta: A Tactile Lens' at the Brooklyn Museum, New York, October 2025 - May 2026 showing a vitrine with text from the section "Handheld"

 

Installation view of the exhibition Seydou Keïta: A Tactile Lens at the Brooklyn Museum, New York, October 2025 – May 2026 showing a vitrine with text from the section “Handheld”

 

The Self That Travels

Over time, African studio photography by Keïta and other artists became part of a global circulation of images. A photographic print could be sent from Bamako to a relative stationed during the war years in France, or Indonesia, or Russia. Portraits were exchanged locally, regionally, and farther afield through a web of relations in matchmaking attempts between families. A private image may have been usurped by a colonial publisher for use on a postcard. Perhaps a collector on eBay, fifty years later, was delighted by the image or recognised Keïta’s stamp and had it shipped to the United States from Belarus. All told, vintage prints are part of an economy that reveals complex histories of commerce and human desire.

 

Installation view of the exhibition 'Seydou Keïta: A Tactile Lens' at the Brooklyn Museum, New York, October 2025 - May 2026 showing a vitrine with text from the section "The Self That Travels"

 

Installation view of the exhibition Seydou Keïta: A Tactile Lens at the Brooklyn Museum, New York, October 2025 – May 2026 showing a vitrine with text from the section “The Self That Travels”

 

A Golden Touch

After printing, photographs could be tinted by hand to heighten the subject’s beauty and status – and to imbue the photograph with the protections afforded by gold. Chekna Touré was a picture framer who hand-coloured photographs for many of Keïta’s clients, often highlighting the subject’s gold jewellery, accessories, and cosmetics. As a marker of wealth, beauty, and identity, gold was essential to Malian women’s dress. 

Mali’s vast gold reserves are some of the world’s oldest and a source of national pride. Its lustrous qualities carried talismanic powers, yet the metal also inspired fear. Believed to be a living organism, gold was said to have its own soul and powers. Goldsmiths would thus meld the element with other metals to help shield the wearer from its full force. 

The vintage prints in this case feature colorisation. While Touré colourised many of Keïta’s photographs, the differing skill levels seen here suggest other people also performed this work, perhaps doing so at home.

 

Installation view of the exhibition 'Seydou Keïta: A Tactile Lens' at the Brooklyn Museum, New York, October 2025 - May 2026 showing gold and carnelian jewellery

 

Installation view of the exhibition Seydou Keïta: A Tactile Lens at the Brooklyn Museum, New York, October 2025 – May 2026 showing gold and carnelian jewellery

 

Installation view of the exhibition 'Seydou Keïta: A Tactile Lens' at the Brooklyn Museum, New York, October 2025 - May 2026 showing text from the section "A Golden Touch" with at bottom centre, Keïta's photograph 'Untitled' c. 1948-1963

 

Installation view of the exhibition Seydou Keïta: A Tactile Lens at the Brooklyn Museum, New York, October 2025 – May 2026 showing text from the section “A Golden Touch” with at bottom centre, Keïta’s photograph Untitled c. 1948-1963 (below)

 

Seydou Keïta (Malian, c. 1921-2001) 'Untitled' c. 1948-1963

 

Seydou Keïta (Malian, c. 1921-2001)
Untitled
c. 1948-1963
Vintage gelatin silver print
The Estate of Steven C. Dubin
© SKPEAC/Seydou Keïta
Courtesy The Jean Pigozzi Collection of African Art and Danziger Gallery, NY
Photo: Brooklyn Museum

 

Preserving A Legacy

The Keïta family’s generous loan of film negatives from the estate’s remaining archive presents a rare opportunity to reflect on the practical, ethical, and technical questions involved in the preservation of African photography. Conservation of African photographic archives from the continent faces distinct challenges, ranging from climate-related degradation and limited access to preservation materials and technologies to an overall lack of institutional infrastructure and support for artists and their legacies.

Too fragile to survive extensive handling or prolonged light exposure, Keïta’s negatives could not be cleaned or scanned without risking damage. Instead, each was photographed under controlled conditions at a conservation lab and reproduced for the exhibition.

Lace

Lace features prominently in Keïta’s photographs – appearing as trim on dress sleeves, integrated into garments made from wax print and other fabrics, worn as full lace dresses or as sheer boubous layered over other clothing. European lace was highly coveted, expensive, and difficult to obtain. In response, Soudanaise women created their own lace by hand, layering two pieces of white cotton percale and cutting intricate patterns using stencils. These garments, now rare heirlooms, were once considered second to colonial imports. Today, they are recognized for their exceptional beauty and craftsmanship, emblems of pride in Soudanaise women’s creativity and cultural identity.

Carnelian Beads

Carnelian beads have been traded for centuries, from the Cambay region of India through Mecca to the Middle East and Africa. By the mid-nineteenth century, the German town of Idar-Oberstein began sourcing carnelian from Brazil and producing beads in local factories for export to these same markets. 

Valued for both their beauty and protection, carnelian necklaces were worn as amulets – believed to hold protective powers through their colour and surface – and were often included as part of a woman’s dowry. Multi-strand necklaces of small carnelian beads appear on many of Keïta’s sitters and were especially fashionable among the Lebu, Tuareg, and Fulani.

Marabaka

During the independence era, anticolonial leader Amílcar Lopes Cabral popularised the marabaka, a Czech-style hat that became a widespread symbol of Pan-African solidarity. First imported from Czechia, the hat, known as zmijovka in Czech, derives its zigzag pattern from that observed on the skin of a viper (zmije in Czech). 

In West Africa, the hat’s black-and-white design is reminiscent of Islamic aesthetics seen on indigenous textiles such as Dogon and Bamana resist cloths and weaving. The snake motif also speaks to the region’s affinity for the culturally significant serpent and water snake. 

Commemorative Cloths

In the post-independence era, political leaders often commissioned commemorative cloths bearing their own images to bolster support and cultivate loyalty – and even foster cults of personality. Citizens wore such cloths regardless of political affiliation, at times out of fear of reprisal. Advances in textile printing and the development of more affordable “fancy print” cloths in the 1940s made many commemorative cloths inexpensive to produce. The examples on view span a range of iconography, from wax-print cloths honouring African soldiers who served in World War II and Mali’s first post-independence president, Modibo Keïta, to a fancy print featuring French President Charles de Gaulle . 

Pagne

A woman’s pagne is the foundation of her wardrobe. Typically woven or cut to a length of about two yards, the pagne functions as a wrap that conceals the waist, thighs, and buttocks. Beyond their function, pagnes also symbolize lineage, protection, and a woman’s evolving identity. 

Finely woven and dyed pagnes are presented at birth and during key life rituals such as dowry exchanges, marriage celebrations, and pregnancies. Women rarely part with their pagnes. Above all, they are talismans – protective layers passed down from generation to generation. A woman selects which ones to give to her children and which, ultimately, will accompany her to the grave. 

Dutch Legacies

Known in the postwar era as “the Chanel of Africa,” the Dutch textile company Vlisco has been the foremost purveyor of African wax-print textiles since the late nineteenth century. The company industrialised the Indonesian batik process, in which patterns are drawn in wax on cotton fabric that is then dyed. When the wax is removed, the design is revealed, protected from the dye by the wax resist.

Though Vlisco did not actively market its products in the Sahel region in the 1940s to 1970s, wax prints spread through African trade networks and became widely popular, including among many of Keïta’s sitters. While the patterns were created by Dutch designers, they were named by Ghanaian and Togolese female fabric traders and their female clients, who interpreted the patterns’ meanings through a local, social, or spiritual lens .

The colour, design, and pattern names of wax prints thus carry personal and communal meanings – much like Keïta’s photographs.

Widely associated with coming-of-age rituals, wax prints have long marked key life events such as birth, puberty, and marriage. As independence movements gained momentum across the continent, wax-print textiles came to symbolise cosmopolitanism and a growing sense of Pan-African identity.

The Studio Backdrop

In Keïta’s photographs, traditional and modern textiles appear as studio backdrops or layered on European-style beds, their bold patterns often echoed in the sitters’ garments. Featuring examples of such textiles, this installation highlights the evolution of Malian weaving traditions during the independence era. The 1950s and early post-independence years saw rapid innovations in textile design, particularly in the use of colour. In contrast with traditional indigo and earth tones produced using natural dyes, these modern fabrics feature vivid hues made from synthetic dyes and incorporate more elaborate, figurative motifs that reflect the period’s shifting social concerns and aspirations.

These blankets served multiple functions. In everyday use, they provided protection from mosquitoes, cold temperatures, and sandstorms in the Sahel. When folded and draped over the shoulder of a well-dressed man, they signaled status. They were also important in systems of exchange – traded, gifted, and ceremonially displayed, most notably during dowry presentations and marriage celebrations.

 

Seydou Keïta (Malian, c. 1921-2001) 'Untitled' 1957-1960, printed 1994

 

Seydou Keïta (Malian, c. 1921-2001)
Untitled
1949-1951, printed 1995
Gelatin silver print
© SKPEAC/Seydou Keïta
Courtesy The Jean Pigozzi Collection of African Art and Danziger Gallery, NY

 

Seydou Keïta (Malian, c. 1921-2001) 'Untitled' 1949-1951, printed 1995

 

Seydou Keïta (Malian, c. 1921-2001)
Untitled
1949-1951, printed 1995
Gelatin silver print
© SKPEAC/Seydou Keïta
Courtesy The Jean Pigozzi Collection of African Art and Danziger Gallery, NY

 

Seydou Keïta (Malian, c. 1921-2001) 'Untitled' 1952-1955, printed ca. 1994-2001

 

Seydou Keïta (Malian, c. 1921-2001)
Untitled
1952-1955, printed c. 1994-2001
Gelatin silver print
© SKPEAC/Seydou Keïta
Courtesy The Jean Pigozzi Collection of African Art and Danziger Gallery, NY

 

Installation view of the exhibition 'Seydou Keïta: A Tactile Lens' at the Brooklyn Museum, New York, October 2025 - May 2026

 

Installation view of the exhibition Seydou Keïta: A Tactile Lens at the Brooklyn Museum, New York, October 2025 – May 2026

 

Installation view of the exhibition 'Seydou Keïta: A Tactile Lens' at the Brooklyn Museum, New York, October 2025 - May 2026 showing vitrines with facsimile cellulose acetate negatives and positive reproductions from digitised negatives c. 1950-1959
Installation view of the exhibition 'Seydou Keïta: A Tactile Lens' at the Brooklyn Museum, New York, October 2025 - May 2026 showing vitrines with facsimile cellulose acetate negatives and positive reproductions from digitised negatives c. 1950-1959

 

Installation views of the exhibition Seydou Keïta: A Tactile Lens at the Brooklyn Museum, New York, October 2025 – May 2026 showing vitrines with facsimile cellulose acetate negatives and positive reproductions from digitised negatives c. 1950-1959

 

Seydou Keïta (Malian, c. 1921-2001) 'Untitled' 1959

 

Seydou Keïta (Malian, c. 1921-2001)
Untitled
1959, printed 1998
Gelatin silver print
© SKPEAC/Seydou Keïta
Courtesy The Jean Pigozzi Collection of African Art

 

Installation view of the exhibition 'Seydou Keïta: A Tactile Lens' at the Brooklyn Museum, New York, October 2025 - May 2026

 

Installation view of the exhibition Seydou Keïta: A Tactile Lens at the Brooklyn Museum, New York, October 2025 – May 2026

 

Installation view of the exhibition 'Seydou Keïta: A Tactile Lens' at the Brooklyn Museum, New York, October 2025 - May 2026 showing Keïta's medium format cameras and his photograph, 'Untitled' late 1940s to mid-1970s
Installation view of the exhibition 'Seydou Keïta: A Tactile Lens' at the Brooklyn Museum, New York, October 2025 - May 2026 showing Keïta's medium format cameras and his photograph, 'Untitled' late 1940s to mid-1970s

 

Installation views of the exhibition Seydou Keïta: A Tactile Lens at the Brooklyn Museum, New York, October 2025 – May 2026 showing Keïta’s medium format cameras and his photograph, Untitled late 1940s to mid-1970s (below)

 

Seydou Keïta (Malian, c. 1921-2001) 'Untitled' late 1940s to mid-1970s

 

Seydou Keïta (Malian, c. 1921-2001)
Untitled
late 1940s to mid-1970s
Positive reproduction from digitised negative
Courtesy of the Seydou Keïta Family

 

Seydou Keïta (Malian, c. 1921-2001) 'Untitled' late 1940s to mid-1970s

 

Seydou Keïta (Malian, c. 1921-2001)
Untitled
late 1940s to mid-1970s
Positive reproduction from digitised negative
Courtesy of the Seydou Keïta Family

 

Seydou Keïta (Malian, c. 1921-2001) 'Untitled' 1949-1951, printed 1995

 

Seydou Keïta (Malian, c. 1921-2001)
Untitled
1949-1951, printed 1995
Gelatin silver print
© SKPEAC/Seydou Keïta
Courtesy The Jean Pigozzi Collection of African Art and Danziger Gallery, NY

 

With one hand on the handlebars of a bicycle and the other tucked in his pocket, this child meets the camera with a stern expression. Here, the boy’s French beret, shoes, and bicycle – imported goods reserved for the elite – speak to the deep-rooted impact of French colonialism across generations, even as the country moved toward independence.

 

Installation view of the exhibition 'Seydou Keïta: A Tactile Lens' at the Brooklyn Museum, New York, October 2025 - May 2026
Installation view of the exhibition 'Seydou Keïta: A Tactile Lens' at the Brooklyn Museum, New York, October 2025 - May 2026
Installation view of the exhibition 'Seydou Keïta: A Tactile Lens' at the Brooklyn Museum, New York, October 2025 - May 2026
Installation view of the exhibition 'Seydou Keïta: A Tactile Lens' at the Brooklyn Museum, New York, October 2025 - May 2026
Installation view of the exhibition 'Seydou Keïta: A Tactile Lens' at the Brooklyn Museum, New York, October 2025 - May 2026
Installation view of the exhibition 'Seydou Keïta: A Tactile Lens' at the Brooklyn Museum, New York, October 2025 - May 2026
Installation view of the exhibition 'Seydou Keïta: A Tactile Lens' at the Brooklyn Museum, New York, October 2025 - May 2026
Installation view of the exhibition 'Seydou Keïta: A Tactile Lens' at the Brooklyn Museum, New York, October 2025 - May 2026

 

Installation views of the exhibition Seydou Keïta: A Tactile Lens at the Brooklyn Museum, New York, October 2025 – May 2026

 

 

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Exhibition: ‘The Family Album of Ralph Eugene Meatyard’ at the High Museum of Art, Atlanta, GA

Exhibition dates: 12th December, 2025 – 10th May, 2026

Curator: Gregory Harris, the High Museum’s Donald and Marilyn Keough Family Curator of Photography

 

Ralph Eugene Meatyard (American, 1925-1972) 'Untitled (cover)' 1962 from the exhibition 'The Family Album of Ralph Eugene Meatyard' at the High Museum of Art, Atlanta, GA, December 2025 - May 2026

 

Ralph Eugene Meatyard (American, 1925-1972)
Untitled (cover)
1962
Gelatin silver print
Estate of Ralph Eugene Meatyard
© Estate of Ralph Eugene Meatyard

 

 

Gestures on what it is to be human

In the nearly eighteen year history of constructing this archive there has never been a posting on the American photographer Ralph Eugene Meatyard (American, 1925-1972) which tells you a/ how rare exhibitions of his work are today and b/ how under appreciated his art is in recent times when compared to his white, male contemporaries such as Harry Callahan, Minor White and Aaron Siskind. Thus it is a great pleasure to promote this exhibition on Art Blart. I just wish I had more photographs to show you!

His work is polarising. People either hate it or love it. I’m in the latter camp. I admire Meatyard’s disturbing? challenging photographs where youth and innocence meld into a dystopian old age of special beauty, where other worlds of which we know very little are brought close to our imagination.

I admire them for their unconventionality, for their spectral aspect … that fluid dichotomy between reality and fantasy, dreams and nightmares, where the mask comes to stand for another state of being of its subject1 – shadowy, other-worldy phantoms brought into our presence through romantic-surrealist, abstract realisms – un/earthly in/corporealities, bodies and people who are both grounded in the present and transmogrifying in a tumult of magic realism (a literary and artistic genre that seamlessly blends fantastical or mythical elements into otherwise realistic, mundane settings, treating the supernatural as normal).

This unexplained magic, fluid time contains a social critique of childhood, family and adulthood and (most importantly) mortality, merging real-world settings with unbelievable elements.

Meatyards’s staged scenes – often using exposure, shadow (in Jung referencing the unconscious, hidden part of the personality), depth of field, or motion blur – suggest “an absurd fantasy set in the dilapidated houses and banal suburban environs near his home in Lexington, Kentucky … [which] reveal Meatyard’s search for inner truths amid the ordinary.” (Text from the High Museum of Art)

His photographs contain elements of his imagination in segments of the actuality around him, an interface of emotion and feeling about the world which is reflected back to us through his experimental, fantastical images. His subjects simply exist in youth and old age and resonate (that musical influence) “within the infinite possibilities of this fictional world.” Thus, in this fictional world, the masks serve “… to equalise his subjects and shift focus elsewhere – to the poignant juxtaposition of otherworldly faces on human bodies, to the ambiguous and unknowable in human nature.”2

The unknowable in human nature. The phenomenal (appearances) and the noumenal (the harsh reality of things-in-themselves).3 Interstitial. Interspatial. The space between…

Dreams and realities, masks and identities, emotions and fluidities.
Gestures on what it is to be human.

Dr Marcus Bunyan

 

1/ “The word “persona” originally refers to a theatrical mask worn by actors to depict the roles played by them…

The ego refers to our centre of consciousness which is responsible for our continuing sense of identity throughout our life and the persona is the social mask that we put on. We all embody different masks in different settings, as it is our way to adapt to the demands of society, playing an important part in shaping our social role and in how we deal with other people.”

Anonymous. “The Persona – The Mask That Conceals Your True Self,” on the Eternalised website, December 24, 2021 [Online] Ciuted 20/03/2026

2/ Anonymous. “Ralph Eugene Meatyard: Cranston Ritchie,” on the Artsy website Nd [Online] Cited 20/03/2026

3/ The phenomenal world is the reality we experience through senses and mental structures (space/time), while the noumenal is the unknowable, objective reality existing independently of perception, such as God or the true nature of objects.


Many thankx to the High Museum of Art for allowing me to publish the photographs in the posting. Please click on the photographs for a larger version of the image.

 

 

“I seek to create a picture that has implications which may be explored for a new concept of thinking – a picture seen largely from the subjective viewpoint. The man of ideas and ideals will search for and find elements of his imagination in segments of the actuality around him. My pictures are an extension of myself and invite the viewers to participate in my thinking about the object pictured.”


Ralph Eugene Meatyard, Lexington Camera Club, Creative Photography – 1956 catalogue statement

 

“I adhere to the techniques of the earliest and most sincere workers of the camera – straight, unmanipulated pictures. That which I present is that which I see. However, I work a great deal in romantic-surrealist as well as abstract for I feel that ‘more real than real’ is the special province of the serious photographer.”


Ralph Eugene Meatyard, quoted in Beaumont Newhall, “New Talent in Photography USA,” Art in America 49, No. 1, 1961

 

 

Installation view of the exhibition The Family Album of Ralph Eugene Meatyard at the High Museum of Art, Atlanta, GA

 

Ralph Eugene Meatyard (American, 1925-1972) 'Self-portrait (frontispiece)' c. 1964-1966 from the exhibition 'The Family Album of Ralph Eugene Meatyard' at the High Museum of Art, Atlanta, GA, December 2025 - May 2026

 

Ralph Eugene Meatyard (American, 1925-1972)
Self-portrait (frontispiece)
c. 1964-1966
Gelatin silver print
High Museum of Art
Purchase with funds from Joe Williams and Tede Fleming, Jane and Clay Jackson, and an anonymous donor
Estate of Ralph Eugene Meatyard
© Estate of Ralph Eugene Meatyard

 

As an optician by profession, Meatyard’s photography training was largely self-taught. He grew up in Normal, Illinois, and eventually moved to Lexington to take a job at the Tinder-Knaus-Tinder optical shop. Through his occupation, he became fascinated by visual perception, but he did not pick up a camera until the early 1950s when his first son, Michael, was born. He began experimenting with photography and joined the Lexington Camera Club, a group of serious amateur photographers that met regularly to share their work. Meatyard made this self-portrait outside a warehouse in downtown Lexington. The composition, with the artist standing next to the word yard, is a playful visual take on his unusual surname. 

 

 

A largely self-taught photographer, Ralph Eugene Meatyard (American, 1925–1972) was a pioneering and inventive artist who created some of the most original images of the mid-twentieth century. His work defies easy categorization as he experimented across various genres and subjects, and throughout his career, he maintained the ethos of an amateur, approaching photography with a sense of affection, discovery, and surprise. He is best known for his staged scenes that suggest an absurd fantasy set in the dilapidated houses and banal suburban environs near his home in Lexington, Kentucky. These scenes, often featuring his family as actors and using props such as masks and dolls, reveal Meatyard’s search for inner truths amid the ordinary.

This exhibition, coinciding with the artist’s centenary, features the thirty-six prints that comprise the artist’s first monograph (Gnomon Press, 1970) – one of only two books he published in his lifetime – which Meatyard intended to stand as his definitive artistic statement. All thirty-six prints were recently acquired by the High for the Museum’s permanent collection. Through his idiosyncratic selection of images, this exhibition explores how Meatyard’s singular approach and voracious curiosity expanded photography’s expressive and conceptual potential.

Text from the High Museum of Art website

 

Ralph Eugene Meatyard (American, 1925-1972) 'Untitled (plate 1)' 1960

 

Ralph Eugene Meatyard (American, 1925-1972)
Untitled (plate 1)
1960
Gelatin silver print
Purchase with funds from Purchase with funds from Jane and Clay Jackson
© Estate of Ralph Eugene Meatyard.

 

Ralph Eugene Meatyard (American, 1925-1972) 'Untitled (plate 7)' 1963

 

Ralph Eugene Meatyard (American, 1925-1972)
Untitled (plate 7)
1963
Gelatin silver print
Purchase with funds from Joe Williams and Tede Fleming
© Estate of Ralph Eugene Meatyard

 

 

Since his untimely death in 1972, American photographer Ralph Eugene Meatyard has come to be regarded among the most pioneering and inventive artists of the medium, and his expressive, surreal photographs are widely celebrated today. This winter, the High Museum of Art presents “The Family Album of Ralph Eugene Meatyard” (Dec. 12, 2025 – May 10, 2026), an exhibition featuring 36 photographs that Meatyard considered his best work, created for one of only two monographs published by the artist in his lifetime. The High recently acquired the prints from his estate, making the museum one of the leading repositories of his photographs in the world.

“Ralph Eugene Meatyard created some of the most original photographs of the mid-20th century, and the prints in this exhibition are exquisite examples of his innovation and creativity,” said the High’s Director Rand Suffolk. “We are grateful to his estate for the opportunity to acquire and present these works and to celebrate his unorthodox yet remarkably generative practice with this exhibition.”

Born in Illinois in 1925, Meatyard eventually settled in Lexington, Kentucky. Because of his professional training as an optician, he was fascinated by visual perception, but he did not pick up a camera until the early 1950s. He began experimenting with photography and joined the Lexington Camera Club, immersing himself in the city’s creative community, which included artists and writers Van Deren Coke, Jonathan Williams, Wendell Berry and Thomas Merton.

Over the next 15 years, Meatyard maintained the ethos of an amateur, approaching the medium with a sense of affection, discovery and surprise. He experimented across various genres and subjects, including portraiture, abstraction, landscape and gothic narrative, constantly seeking to distort proper vision through photographic processes and the unconventional narrative structures that would make him an innovator of the medium.

He is best known for his staged scenes that suggest absurd fantasies, played out in the dilapidated houses and banal suburban environs of Lexington. Often featuring his family as actors and including props such as masks and dolls, the scenes reveal his search for inner truths among the ordinary. Though he wasn’t unknown in his lifetime – he exhibited, lectured and showed his work regularly throughout the 1960s – he worked both geographically and conceptually outside of the mainstream of photographic modernism, and it wasn’t until after his death that his reputation began to grow steadily.

More than a dozen books of Meatyard’s photographs have been released to date, but he only published two monographs in his lifetime. “Ralph Eugene Meatyard” (Gnomon Press, 1970), edited while he was dying of cancer, is a survey of what he considered his best work. He hoped the book would stand as his definitive artistic statement, offering his own perspective on his distinctive photographs.

This exhibition features rare prints the artist made of the 36 photographs in the book. These include signature photographs from Meatyard’s “Romance” series, which depict his family in fantastical scenarios, staged in abandoned buildings and bucolic landscapes. The series subverts the traditional family snapshot with a sense of the uncanny, combining youthful innocence with a sense of mortality. Meatyard often referred to these pictures as “romantic-surrealist,” and their fictional aspects were motivated by his desire to make photographs that weren’t bound by reality but were still grounded in the world as we see it. The exhibition also includes a selection of Meatyard’s portraits of writers, poets and artists from his circle, including Merton, Williams, Berry and Guy Davenport, among others. Collectively, the photographs create an unconventional family album by one of the most distinctive artists of the post-war period. The exhibition delves into Meatyard’s personal perceptions of his photographs and his process as a maker and will underscore the important influence of his artistic and intellectual contemporaries in Lexington, all of whom greatly affected his work. It also explores how Meatyard’s singular approach and voracious curiosity expanded photography’s expressive and conceptual potential.

“A family album is a relatable practice of memory, storytelling, aspiration and fabrication familiar to almost everyone,” said Gregory Harris, the High’s Donald and Marilyn Keough Family curator of photography. “While these works echo that nostalgic format, they also offer plenty of surprises and an extraordinary window into Meatyard’s life and creative process. We’re thrilled to share them with our audience.”

“The Family Album of Ralph Eugene Meatyard” is presented in the Lucinda Weil Bunnen Gallery for Photography on the lower level of the High’s Wieland Pavilion.

Press release from the High Museum of Art

 

Ralph Eugene Meatyard (American, 1925-1972) 'Untitled (plate 17)' 1962

 

Ralph Eugene Meatyard (American, 1925-1972)
Untitled (plate 17)
1962
Gelatin silver print
High Museum of Art
Purchase with funds from Joe Williams and Tede Fleming
Estate of Ralph Eugene Meatyard
© Estate of Ralph Eugene Meatyard

 

Meatyard suffered a heart attack in 1961. After this brush with mortality, he gave himself ten years to master photography. A sense of anxiety runs through many of his photographs. This image of a vacant masked face with hands pressed against its cheeks and a shard of broken mirror floating above embodies the persistent sense of pressure and tenuousness motivated by the finiteness of time.

Meatyard began editing the Gnomon Press book soon after he was diagnosed with cancer in 1970, and the looming reality of his fragility no doubt informed his selection of images. Arnold Gassan echoed the need to confront death in the longer, unpublished version of his essay for the book.

 

Ralph Eugene Meatyard (American, 1925-1972) 'Untitled (plate 18)' 1963

 

Ralph Eugene Meatyard (American, 1925-1972)
Untitled (plate 18)
1963
Gelatin silver print
Estate of Ralph Eugene Meatyard
© Estate of Ralph Eugene Meatyard

 

Ralph Eugene Meatyard (American, 1925-1972) 'Untitled (plate 19)' 1960

 

Ralph Eugene Meatyard (American, 1925-1972)
Untitled (plate 19)
1960
Gelatin silver print
Estate of Ralph Eugene Meatyard
© Estate of Ralph Eugene Meatyard

 

 

The 36 photographs include a number of signature portraits from Meatyard’s series Romance, and portray his family members, sometimes masked, inhabiting abandoned southern landscapes. Meatyard challenges the idea of traditional family portraits. In some images, children play in deserted rooms, maintaining their innocence in disconcerting environments. They are not afraid or amused – they simply exist within the infinite possibilities of this fictional world. In one image, an unrecognisable figure jumps out of a window into a yard where a little boy awaits. The movement of the jumping figure makes it resemble a spirit appearing to the boy in a dream. In creating this series, Meatyard was inspired by Ambrose Bierce’s definition of “romance” in “The Devil’s Dictionary” – defined as “fiction that owes no allegiance to the God of Things as They are.”

Victoria Gonzalez. “The Family Album of Ralph Eugene Meatyard,” on the Musee website December 15, 2025 [Online] Cited 15/02/2026. Used under fair use conditions for the purposes of education and research

 

As an adult, Meatyard lived in the South but grew up in Normal, Illinois – an apt birthplace for this man who led a very normal life. (“Meatyard” is an arcane 17th century English surname, but its surrealistic sound is an apt byline for the photographer. Meatyard himself collected strange names that he noted in a loose-leaf binder.) He did not consider himself a Southerner, although he has often been associated with Southern photography.

Although Meatyard counted himself as an amateur and hobbyist, he exhibited his work nationally with fine art photographers such as Minor White (who introduced him to Zen Buddhism), Harry CallahanAaron Siskind and Emmet Gowin. His national reputation had grown enough that his 1972 passing garnered a New York Times obituary that described Meatyard as living (somewhat disparagingly) in a backwater. Yet, it was living outside major centers of art and photography that allowed him the freedom to pursue his idiosyncratic creative strategies.

Louise E. Shaw. “Experimentation beyond the lens: a retrospective of Ralph Eugene Meatyard debuts at the High,” on the ArtsATL website, January 8, 2026 [Online] Cited 15/02/2026. Used under fair use conditions for the purposes of education and research

 

Ralph Eugene Meatyard (American, 1925-1972) 'Untitled (plate 20)' 1962

 

Ralph Eugene Meatyard (American, 1925-1972)
Untitled (plate 20)
1962
Gelatin silver print
Estate of Ralph Eugene Meatyard
© Estate of Ralph Eugene Meatyard

 

Ralph Eugene Meatyard (American, 1925-1972) 'Cranston Ritchie (plate 30)' c. 1958-1959

 

Ralph Eugene Meatyard (American, 1925-1972)
Cranston Ritchie (plate 30)
c. 1958-1959
Gelatin silver print
Estate of Ralph Eugene Meatyard
© Estate of Ralph Eugene Meatyard

 

The photographs of his friends are more straightforward but equally poetic and surrealistic. An example is his portrait of close friend and fellow Lexington Camera Club member Cranston Ritchie (1923-1961). Like Meatyard, Ritchie received an untimely terminal cancer diagnosis, resulting in multiple amputations of his arm. Facing forward, Cranston stands with an armless mannequin and mirror, a humorous but tragic take on fate and mortality.

Louise E. Shaw. “Experimentation beyond the lens: a retrospective of Ralph Eugene Meatyard debuts at the High,” on the ArtsATL website, January 8, 2026 [Online] Cited 15/02/2026. Used under fair use conditions for the purposes of education and research

 

Cranston Ritchie was a photographer in the Lexington Camera Club and friend of fellow club member, Ralph Eugene Meatyard. Ritchie died young at the age of 38 from cancer. James Rhem in his essay, Gene’s Friend – Cranston Ritchie, writes, “A little knot the size of a grape and sore to the touch appeared on his right hand. It turned out to be a malignancy. Doctors then thought if the arm were removed above the elbow, the cancer might be stopped from continuing to his lungs. It wasn’t. After five surgeries, each an effort to stop the cancer’s spread, Ritchie died the day after Christmas in 1961.” Rhem quotes Meatyard’s 1971 recollection of Ritchie, “He will certainly be recognised in years to come as an outstanding individual photographer as many of the 19th century men are being recognised today.”

Text from the Gitterman Gallery website

 

Ralph Eugene Meatyard (American, 1925-1972) 'Untitled (Madonna, plate 34)' 1964

 

Ralph Eugene Meatyard (American, 1925-1972)
Untitled (Madonna, plate 34)
1964
Gelatin silver print
High Museum of Art
Purchase with funds from the Donald and Marilyn Keough Family Foundation
Estate of Ralph Eugene Meatyard
© Estate of Ralph Eugene Meatyard

 

While Meatyard regularly photographed his family, his pictures are rarely conventional portraits and are not necessarily indicative of his relationships. Even when he wasn’t including masks, he often obscured his sitters’ identities by skilfully deploying exposure, shadow, depth of field, or motion blur. In this silhouetted image, his wife, Madelyn, and their daughter, Melissa, become the archetypal mother and daughter, their fused forms expressing intimacy and connection. The title of the piece, Madonna, and Meatyard’s use of the arched window as a framing device indicate his desire to place his work within an art historical lineage.

 

 

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Exhibition: ‘Alfred Buckham: Daredevil Photographer’ at the Scottish National Portrait Gallery, Edinburgh

Exhibition dates: 18th October, 2025 – 19th April, 2026

Curator: Louise Pearson

 

Alfred Buckham (British, 1879-1956) 'R100' about 1930

 

Alfred Buckham (British, 1879-1956)
R100
about 1930
Gelatin silver print
National Galleries of Scotland
Purchased with Art Fund support, 2008
© Richard and John Buckham

 

This is an example of one of his shots of an impressive cloud formation. It features the R-100 airship, noted for its more oval, aerodynamic shape in comparison to the traditional Zeppelin. The R-100 embarked on its maiden flight in 1929 but in 1930 it was deflated and removed from service following the crash of her sister ship, the R-101, with the loss of forty-eight lives. Buckham painted the airship into the scene by hand.

 

 

Flights of fancy

What a man, what a daredevil, what an artist!

Member of the Royal Photographic Society and lecturer in photography before the First World War.

Joined the Royal Naval Air Service (precursor to the Royal Air Force) in 1916 and taught young recruits the basics of photography before requesting a transfer to active service. He became a pioneer in aerial reconnaissance over France when the pilots and observers/camera operators of biplanes over the trenches had no parachutes.

Invalided out of the service in 1918 after multiple crashes. After his ninth crash he had to undergo a tracheotomy and spent the rest of his life breathing through a tube.

Determined to continue his love affair with flying and photography, he rented planes and, strapping himself in and leaning over the side with his heavy plate camera, he captured romantic, rugged, aerial landscape photographs which combined dramatic, atmospheric shots of the landscape with photographic manipulation inside and outside the darkroom.

Rather than scratching in the original negative and/or making a composite negative (a la the Australian photographer Frank Hurley, 1885-1962) or using photomontage (the cutting and pasting physical photographs together), Buckham used combination printing – the use of multiple negatives to create seamless, “perfect” images, such as adding detailed skies to landscapes and biplanes to the skies, planes that were photographed on the ground – in the final, unique print. He often scratched the final print to emphasise highlights, and then used watercolour paints to blend in the areas where the different negatives overlapped in the print or to paint in details of aircraft wheels or bridge supports.

Buckham’s photographs of the landscape are truly beautiful. I love them.

The final prints are a heady mixture of romantic landscape (with their underlying nod to Pictorialism, emotional, romantic, and atmospheric scenes over realistic documentation) and modernist elements, of cutting edge machines, bridges, aeroplanes, airships and flying boats added through photographic manipulation in the darkroom, further enhanced by hand, through scratching and painting on the actual print.

To finally reveal what Buckham felt of the physical thrill of flying and the deeply felt emotional reaction to the landscape beneath him – can you imagine being him! – creating these photographs with deep, inward feelings impinging on his mind, his imagination, his memory. To perfectly present “so nearly, the effect that I saw” when in the air. Clouds in a sea of air.

These. These were his flights of fancy.

Dr Marcus Bunyan


Many thankx to the Scottish National Portrait Gallery for allowing me to publish the photographs in the posting. Please click on the photographs for a larger version of the image.

 

 

“I always stand up to make an exposure and, taking the precaution to tie my right leg to the seat, I am free to move about rapidly, and easily, in any desired direction; and loop the loop, and indulge in other such delights, with perfect safety… If you stand erect you will not have to resist the fatal tendency to rest your arms on the side of the aeroplane whilst making the exposure, for if you do so your photograph will surely be spoiled by the vibration of the engine.”


“Unfortunately, Nature does not always surmount her landscapes with clouds such as will compose well, as a whole, in the picture space, consequently I have provided a store of over 2,000 cloud negatives for such contingencies and from this suitable clouds for combination purposes are selected. And here is just where the hasty or unobservant worker may go badly astray, producing incredible or even appalling results. For the lighting of the landscape must be in correct relation to the light coming down from the sky, and heavy cloud masses insist that they shall have corresponding shapes upon the earth. Selection for the right negative for the purpose may entail the inspection of fifty or more, and on the print some handwork with a chemical reducer and stumping chalk, or other medium, is usually required to bring the whole into harmony. So before venturing upon combination work it is surely wise to serve some years of apprenticeship sketching and painting in the open air, which happens to have been my own way of approach to photography.”


“The open cockpit of a not-too-speedy airplane affords better facilities for working than a cabined plane. When the best weather conditions prevail for pictorial photography, the skyroad is disposed to be bumpy, descending and ascending currents of air moving beneath the big banks of cumulus cloud. A sudden drop of 300 or 400ft may be a little alarming if one is not prepared for it.”


Alfred Buckham

 

 

Installation view of the exhibition 'Alfred Buckham: Daredevil Photographer' at the Scottish National Portrait Gallery, Edinburgh
Installation view of the exhibition 'Alfred Buckham: Daredevil Photographer' at the Scottish National Portrait Gallery, Edinburgh
Installation view of the exhibition 'Alfred Buckham: Daredevil Photographer' at the Scottish National Portrait Gallery, Edinburgh
Installation view of the exhibition 'Alfred Buckham: Daredevil Photographer' at the Scottish National Portrait Gallery, Edinburgh

 

Installation views of the exhibition Alfred Buckham: Daredevil Photographer at the Scottish National Portrait Gallery, Edinburgh
Photos: Aly Wight

 

Installation view of the exhibition 'Alfred Buckham: Daredevil Photographer' at the Scottish National Portrait Gallery, Edinburgh showing Buckham's photograph 'Edinburgh' (about 1920)

 

Installation view of the exhibition Alfred Buckham: Daredevil Photographer at the Scottish National Portrait Gallery, Edinburgh showing Buckham’s photograph Edinburgh (about 1920, below)
Photo: Aly Wight

 

Alfred Buckham (British, 1879-1956) 'Edinburgh' about 1920

 

Alfred Buckham (British, 1879-1956)
Edinburgh
about 1920
Gelatin silver print
45.80 x 37.80 cm
Scottish National Gallery of Modern Art
Purchased 1990
© Richard and John Buckham

 

Buckham had crashed nine times before he was discharged from the Royal Naval Air Service as a hundred per cent disabled. Continuing to indulge his passion for aerial photography, he wrote that ‘If one’s right leg is tied to the seat with a scarf or a piece of rope, it is possible to work in perfect security’. Presumably these were the perilous conditions in which the photographer took this dazzling picture of Edinburgh, one of the city’s most popular aerial views.

 

Installation view of the exhibition 'Alfred Buckham: Daredevil Photographer' at the Scottish National Portrait Gallery, Edinburgh showing Alfred Buckham wearing googles by an unknown photographer (1918, below)

  

Installation view of the exhibition Alfred Buckham: Daredevil Photographer at the Scottish National Portrait Gallery, Edinburgh showing Alfred Buckham wearing googles by an unknown photographer (1918, below)
Photo: Aly Wight

  

Unknown photographer. 'Alfred Buckham wearing googles' 1918

  

Unknown photographer
Alfred Buckham wearing googles
1918
Gelatin silver print
Collection of Richard and John Buckham
© Richard and John Buckham

  

Unknown photographer. 'Alfred Buckham’s aeroplane hanging in a tree after a crash during the First World War' 1916

  

Unknown photographer
Alfred Buckham’s aeroplane hanging in a tree after a crash during the First World War
1916
Gelatin silver print
Collection of Richard and John Buckham
© Richard and John Buckham

  

Unknown photographer. 'Alfred Buckham in an aeroplane' 1918

  

Unknown photographer
Alfred Buckham in an aeroplane
1918
Gelatin silver print
Collection of Richard and John Buckham
© Richard and John Buckham

  

Unknown photographer. 'Camera belonging to Alfred G. Buckham' about 1920

  

Unknown photographer
Camera belonging to Alfred G. Buckham
about 1920
National Galleries of Scotland
Purchased from Richard and John Buckham, 2019
© Richard and John Buckham

 

 

Take to the skies and discover the world from above the clouds through the remarkable work of Alfred Buckham: Daredevil Photographer.

A trailblazer in his field, Alfred Buckham soared above the realms of what was thought to be possible in 20th century photography and aviation. Meet the man behind some of the most iconic aerial photographs, marvel at the death-defying lengths he took to capture the perfect image and explore how his innovative techniques paved the way for modern technologies such as Photoshop and AI.

Text from the Scottish National Portrait Gallery website

 

Alfred Buckham’s first ambition was to be a painter, but after seeing JMW Turner’s pictures in the National Gallery in London, he returned home and made a bonfire of his own work. He was the first head of aerial reconnaissance for the Royal Navy in the First World War and later a captain in the Royal Naval Air Service. After crashing nine times he was obliged to undergo a tracheotomy and was discharged as a hundred per cent disabled. While recovering from surgery Buckham started making photo-montages, combining two or three photographs he had taken to compose a single image. He would look for a sky which complemented the city or landscape below, and even add tiny planes to create the look of a one-shot photograph. He continued to take aerial photographs with a heavy plate camera, leaning perilously out of the aeroplane, where his delight in picture making greatly increased the risk of accident.

Text from the National Galleries website

 

 

Secrets of the Darkroom | Alfred Buckham

Transcript

Narrator: Lucy Armitage
Video duration: 00:03:43

[This film consists of animations illustrating the photographic techniques described in the narration]

Narrator

How would you have combined multiple photographs into one image in the days before Photoshop? From wartime aerial reconnaissance photographer to intrepid explorer, Alfred Buckham was a true daredevil.

But when he entered the darkroom, he was a meticulous and innovative artist. Let’s take a look at one of his most iconic composite photographs: Edinburgh, which was made using three separate negatives.

The first stage would have been to select one of the negatives he captured while literally dangling from his cockpit at death-defying heights.

He would then select a second negative from his impressive library of over 2,000 negatives of clouds. Selecting the right clouds sometimes required inspecting 50 or more options, and occasionally, he created new cloud formations by taping two negatives together.

He also built up a library of plane negatives, masking each plane from the background. All these planes were photographed from the ground, because it would have been impossible to capture a clear image of a plane, mid-flight, from another moving vehicle.

To make a photographic print, the negative would be placed into a device called an enlarger. Think of it like a top-down projector, shining light through the negative to project its image onto a sheet of light-sensitive photographic paper.

This paper would become a canvas for combining multiple negatives into one image. Buckham would first expose the image of Edinburgh onto the lower half of the paper for just the right amount of time. Next, he would expose the image of the sky onto the upper half. The longer the light projected the negative onto the paper, the darker the final image would be.

Throughout the exposure process, he used dodging and burning techniques to soften the horizon where the two negatives met. Dodging involves using your hand, or a piece of card, to block light on specific areas of the paper during exposure, making them appear lighter in the final print. Burning works in the opposite way, where you block light on the areas you’re happy with, and expose for longer the areas you want to darken.

Buckham used a pin mark to identify his chosen spot for the aeroplane. He would have to adjust the height of the enlarger to change the apparent size of the aeroplane. In this case, he also inserted the negative into the enlarger back to front to reverse the plane’s direction. Did you spot the backwards tail number?

After all three exposures, he would then place the paper into a shallow chemical bath called a developer for a set time. Slowly, as if by magic, the composite image would begin to appear on the paper. Subsequent chemical baths stopped the development process before fixing the image in place.

After washing and drying the paper, the print was ready for final adjustments. Buckham rarely edited negatives directly, as was common for photographers using glass plates. Instead, he made all his final adjustments in the print.

Here, he has used black watercolour to enhance the contrast between the brooding castle and the rest of the city. He would sometimes scratch away dark areas of the print to reveal the lighter colour of the paper beneath. Using this method, he could create the impression of spinning propeller blades or light glinting on key landmarks.

These artistic interventions resulted in each print being truly unique. Buckham’s photographs not only capture breathtaking moments at daring, dizzying heights, but are also the meticulous creations of a pioneering visionary artist.

 

Alfred Buckham (British, 1879-1956) 'RAF Turnhouse Christmas Card' 1918

 

Alfred Buckham (British, 1879-1956)
RAF Turnhouse Christmas Card
1918
Gelatin silver print
National Galleries of Scotland
Gift of the Bartholomew Family, Edinburgh, 2022
© Richard and John Buckham

 

A negative of The Forth Bridge, looking north towards Fife, was used as the basis for several prints. It was also used to produce this Christmas card for RAF Turnhouse in 1918. Showing an aeroplane flying towards the Forth Bridge, this is probably one of the first composite photographs Buckham created as it was made while he was still serving in the air force.

 

Alfred Buckham (British, 1879-1956) 'Cloud Turrets' about 1920

 

Alfred Buckham (British, 1879-1956)
Cloud Turrets
about 1920
Gelatin silver print
38.00 x 45.70cm
National Galleries of Scotland
Purchased with Art Fund support, 2008

 

This dramatic, and almost surreal photograph, shows the diversity of cloud formations during a fierce thunderstorm. Over the years Buckham amassed a vast collection of photographs of skies which he could integrate with a separate landscape photograph to enhance the drama and create a more impressive composition. He also often manipulated his images further by adding a hand painted aircraft, such as in this image, which heightens the viewer’s awareness of the dominating power and scale of the natural world.

 

Alfred Buckham (British, 1879-1956) 'Clouds Massing Before a Thunderstorm' about 1920

 

Alfred Buckham (British, 1879-1956)
Clouds Massing Before a Thunderstorm
about 1920
Gelatin silver print
37.80 x 30.00cm
Scottish National Gallery of Modern Art
Purchased with Art Fund support, 2008

 

Buckham was renowned for his atmospheric shots of the landscape. He felt that the most spectacular cloud formations and theatrical light could be captured on ‘stormy days, with bursts of sunshine and occasional showers of rain’. Over the years Buckham built up a vast collection of photographs of skies which he could integrate with a separate landscape photograph to enhance the drama and create a more impressive composition. This is an example of one of his shots of an impressive cloud formation before a thunderstorm.

 

Alfred Buckham (British, 1879-1956) 'Sunset over the Pentlands Range' about 1920

 

Alfred Buckham (British, 1879-1956)
Sunset over the Pentlands Range
about 1920
Gelatin silver print
46 x 38.6cm
National Galleries of Scotland
Purchased with Art Fund support, 2008
© Richard and John Buckham

 

Buckham was the leading aerial photographer of his day and was renowned for his atmospheric shots of the landscape. He felt that the most spectacular cloud formations and dramatic light could be captured on “stormy days, with bursts of sunshine and occasional showers of rain”. Over the years Buckham amassed a vast collection of photographs of skies which he could integrate with a separate landscape photograph to enhance the drama and create a more impressive composition. This photograph of the landscape over the Pentlands Hills near Edinburgh demonstrates this technique. It also illustrates another feature of Buckham’s photographs in the perfectly positioned silhouette of a biplane against the broken clouds, which Buckham would have painted on later.

 

 

Crafting an image | The photographic techniques of Alfred Buckham

Louise Pearson

Alfred Buckham created some spectacular photographs of the earth from the air. In 2018 curator Louise Pearson looked at how these images were created through a unique combination of daring escapades in the air and clever photographic manipulation on the ground.

Alfred Buckham was a passionate enthusiast of both photography and flight. By 1914 he was already an established photographer and a Fellow of the Royal Photographic Society. During the First World War he was involved in the relatively new discipline of aerial reconnaissance, both as a teacher and a practitioner. It was a dangerous occupation and his military career ended as a result of the injuries sustained to his throat during his ninth crash. Despite this, his wartime activities had sparked a love of flying and on leaving the Royal Naval Air Service it seemed natural that he would continue to take photographs from the sky. Buckham subsequently created an astonishing series of photographs, ranging in subject from the Forth Bridge to the skyscrapers of New York and the volcanoes of South America.

The National Galleries of Scotland holds a group of Buckham’s photographs including Edinburgh, which has become one of the most popular works of art in the collection. When we decided to have a photography exhibition on the theme of transport it was clear that Buckham’s aerial photographs would take centre stage. I selected several of Buckham’s photographs for inclusion, including Edinburgh and The Forth Bridge, and started to look at the photographs in more detail with conservator James Berry. We also started planning a blog to explain how Buckham was able to create such dramatic images.

From previous research, and the work James was doing on conserving the photographs ahead of the exhibition, we knew that Buckham was using a technique called combination printing. This is when a photographer uses a number of different negatives to create a single photographic print. In order to fully understand his working methods, we needed to see the negatives he was using. Fortunately, Alfred Buckham’s entire archive of around 1400 negatives, nearly 300 prints, camera and associated archive material has remained with his family and is currently in the care of his grandsons Richard and John Buckham. Richard kindly allowed me to spend a day at his home in London, looking through this fascinating collection. Being able to compare the negatives to the prints in our collection, and read Buckham’s accounts of his photographic work, helped us to piece together how he would have made the atmospheric photograph Edinburgh.

The first stage in taking an aerial photograph is to select the right plane. Buckham took photographs around the world and would have used a number of different planes flown by various pilots to take his photographs. However he recorded that he always preferred to use older planes with open cockpits that travelled at the fairly sedate speed of 60 to 80 miles per hour. Through trial and error he discovered that flying between 1,000 and 2,000 ft gave the best results, as at that height the landscape could be captured with just the right level of detail. …

The other essential piece of equipment was the camera. Happily, as Buckham’s camera survives, we know exactly what he was using to make his exposures. In an article written for the benefit of prospective aerial photographers, he advised using the kind of cameras used by newspaper reporters, which operated at eye-level, rather than the cumbersome cameras which had originally been developed for aerial photography. ‘The camera best suited to the purpose and the one I usually employ has a F4.5 lens and a large direct vision view-finder the same size as the plate, fitted on the top of the lens panel’. He cautioned however that the leather bellows needed to be reinforced with cardboard or aluminium, as the otherwise delicate bellows could not withstand the force of the winds encountered at altitude.

The kind of camera favoured by Buckham used glass plate negatives, which was a conscious decision by Buckham at a time when photographic film was becoming readily available. He favoured double-coated panchromatic plates made in the USA, with dimensions of 10.0cm x 12.5cm. Throughout his career he reiterated that despite their bulk and delicacy, plates gave a far superior result to film.

Extract from Louise Pearson. “Crafting an image | The photographic techniques of Alfred Buckham,” on the National Galleries of Scotland website Nd [Online] Cited 11/02/2026. Used under fair use conditions for the purposes of education and research

 

Alfred Buckham (British, 1879-1956) 'Aeroplane Negative' about 1920

 

Alfred Buckham (British, 1879-1956)
Aeroplane Negative
About 1920
© Richard and John Buckham

 

Buckham built up a library of negatives depicting only aeroplanes, where the original background was masked out. This meant that when the negative was exposed on top of an existing print the plane would appear to be part of the chosen landscape. Buckham would have also been able use an enlarger to match the scale of the plane to the landscape, making the scene appear realistic. While in most cases this technique produces a believable, if slightly incredible, final image there are examples where the planes appear too close together, or at impossible angles.

For Buckham, the final stage of creating a finished image was to use watercolour paints and sometimes ink to add detail to the final print and soften the areas where the two negatives meet. In some of his photographs these hand-drawn elements are easily visible, though in the case of Edinburgh they are more subtle. The clouds on the horizon have been softened to make the join where the two negatives meet less noticeable in the finished print, highlights have been added to the clouds to make them more dramatic and the light below Arthur’s Seat has been adjusted to better match the clouds above. In addition, some areas have been highlighted and others darkened to sharpen the details of key landmarks and make them more recognisable. The use of black watercolour or ink to strengthen and define specific areas of the photographs shows Buckham’s ingenuity. Whilst other photographers would alter the negatives and perhaps scratch out an area that they wished to appear darker, Buckham added the darker tone to the photographic print itself. He also used a scratching out technique, similar to Turner, where a dark area of the photograph is scratched revealing the lighter colour of the paper beneath. This artistic intervention results in each photograph being a unique piece of work. No two can be exactly the same.

It is clear then that Buckham’s photographs are not the result of a single, breath-taking moment in time but instead are a carefully crafted piece of art. He was using known photographic techniques, but created a style which was very much his own. As a result it is easy to see why Edinburgh has become one of the most popular artworks in the collection.

Extract from Louise Pearson. “Crafting an image | The photographic techniques of Alfred Buckham,” on the National Galleries of Scotland website Nd [Online] Cited 11/02/2026. Used under fair use conditions for the purposes of education and research

 

Alfred Buckham (British, 1879-1956) 'Uplands Snowstorm Passing' about 1920

 

Alfred Buckham (British, 1879-1956)
Uplands Snowstorm Passing
about 1920
Gelatin silver print
National Galleries of Scotland
Purchased with Art Fund support, 2008
© Richard and John Buckham

 

In this image the undulations of the snow covered hills are mirrored in the cloudy sky. Buckham introduces a sense of scale through the lone plane silhouetted against a cloud.

 

Alfred Buckham (British, 1879-1956) 'The Forth Bridge' about 1920

 

Alfred Buckham (British, 1879-1956)
The Forth Bridge
about 1920
Gelatin silver print
National Galleries of Scotland
Purchased with Art Fund support, 2008
© Richard and John Buckham

 

Buckham felt that the most spectacular cloud formations and theatrical light could be captured on ‘stormy days, with bursts of sunshine and occasional showers of rain’. This creativity led to him being regarded as the leading aerial photographer of his day and he was renowned for his atmospheric shots of the landscape. Over the years he amassed a vast collection of photographs of skies which he integrated with a separate landscape photograph to enhance the drama and create an imposing composition. This image over the Firth of Forth, Scotland, encapsulates the romantic fusion of man’s engineering achievements against the dramatic beauty of nature. The three steel arches of the Forth Rail Bridge are mirrored in the three biplanes, which Buckham added later by hand, silhouetted against the spectacular sky.

 

Alfred Buckham (British, 1879-1956) 'Sunshine and Showers' about 1920

 

Alfred Buckham (British, 1879-1956)
Sunshine, and Showers
about 1920
Gelatin silver print
National Galleries of Scotland
Purchased with Art Fund support, 2008
© Richard and John Buckham

 

This image shows Captain Jordan flying his Black Camel biplane at very close proximity to Buckham’s aircraft. Taken over the landscape around Rosyth, Fife, Scotland this was near to where Buckham crashed for the ninth time in 1918 and sustained serious injuries.

 

 

This autumn at the Portrait gallery in Edinburgh, take to the skies and see the world from above the clouds through the remarkable work of Alfred Buckham: Daredevil Photographer. From 18 October 2025 – 19 April 2026, meet the man behind some of the most iconic aerial photographs ever taken, marvel at the death-defying lengths he took to capture the perfect image and explore how his innovative techniques in the darkroom paved the way for modern technologies such as Photoshop and AI. Free to visit at the National Galleries Scotland: Portrait, this will be the first major exhibition dedicated to Alfred Buckham and can only be seen in Scotland. 

This exhibition will bring together over 100 photographs and objects including popular works from the Scottish national collection, alongside extensive archival material generously loaned by Alfred Buckham’s grandsons, Richard and John Buckham. Thanks to the support of the Buckham family, personal objects including letters, photographs and even the passport Alfred Buckham used will be put on public display for the first time. 

A maverick of early aviation, Alfred Buckham (1879-1956) created his own unique style of photography by combining daring exploits in the air with innovation in the darkroom. Born in London, Buckham learned his craft by teaching photography before joining the Royal Naval Air Service in 1916, a predecessor to the Royal Air Force. Hailed as an exceptionally skilled flyer, he combined his talent for aviation with his passion for photography, resulting in remarkable endeavours and trailblazing images. Based for most of his military career at RAF Turnhouse, now Edinburgh Airport, central Scotland became a natural playground for Buckham to refine his photographic techniques and let his imagination soar. Daredevil Photographer will chart his phenomenal story from his early photographic experiments in Scotland to exciting adventures in South America and look closer at the skilled and inventive ways he created his work. 

Explore Scotland from the air and get a new perspective of well-known sights, just as Buckham himself would have. Daredevil Photographer celebrates the impact Scotland had on Buckham’s work through his images of recognisable landmarks including St Andrews Golf Links, Linlithgow Palace and the Wallace Monument in Stirling. The exhibition will also feature several images of the Forth Rail Bridge, Buckham’s most photographed landmark. The iconic bridge was the subject of one of his first composite photographs and appeared on the 1918 RAF Turnhouse Christmas card, which will go on display alongside the original photography.

Daredevil Photographer will delve into the darkroom and uncover more about the creative processes used to bring Buckham’s unique images to life. After the First World War, Buckham began experimenting with composite photography; a technique where several negatives are used to create one photographic print. While this wasn’t a new concept, composite photography added a layer of creative freedom to Buckham’s work, much like a very early form of Photoshop. From his vast collection of glass negatives – he had over 2000 cloud images alone in his ‘cloud library’ – Buckham had the means to create images which became immersive, giving a unique sense of flying alongside these incredible aircraft while viewing the world below. 

It was through the technique of composite photography that some of Buckham’s most famous works were born, including the iconic aerial view of Edinburgh (about 1920). This striking photograph shows a bi-plane hovering amongst wispy clouds above Edinburgh Castle, with Arthur’s Seat visible through the mist in the background, and the bustling city below. For the first time, Edinburgh will be displayed alongside the camera and original glass negatives Buckham used to capture and create this much-loved image. Visitors will also be encouraged to get inspired and try their hand at creating their own composite creations through interactive exhibits. 

Telling Buckham’s story through his own words and memories, Daredevil Photographer allows visitors to meet the courageous and humorous man behind the camera. Firsthand accounts of his incredible exploits in the air and ingenious creative methods on the ground will enhance his story and highlight his adventurous spirit: Ah! One was a rare daredevil in those days! (Alfred Buckham, The New York Times, 1930). A free and unique immersive audio experience will bring Buckham’s world of flight and imagination to life through his own words. Hear Buckham’s grandson Richard give a voice to his grandfather’s memories and reflections on his daredevil persona. 

Daredevil in every sense of the word, Buckham went to incredible feats to capture the perfect shot, which the exhibition will explore. His preferred methods included standing in an open cockpit while mid-air, with his leg tied to the seat as a nod to safety. As a result, he experienced no less than nine crashes in his lifetime, one ending in a serious throat injury that cut his military career short. However, he would not be deterred, describing his eccentric photography methods in a surprisingly relaxed way: 

“It is not easy to tumble out of an aeroplane, unless you really want to, and on considerably more than a thousand flights I have used a safety belt only once, and then it was thrust upon me. I always stand up to make an exposure and, taking the precaution to tie my right leg to the seat, I am free to move rapidly, and easily, in any desired direction; and loop the loop; and indulge in other such delights, with perfect safety” – Alfred Buckham, The Camera, January 1927. 

Daredevil Photographer will celebrate Buckham’s skill in the air through a range of his mesmerising photographs. Encounter stunning images of the leading aircraft of the day, such as the Bristol Fighter, a two seated bi-plane designed for aerial reconnaissance, and the bizarre airships of the 1920s. See them soaring through the skies in all weathers, amongst an array of remarkable landscapes. The exhibition will include one of his most well-known works, The Heart of the Empire (1923), on loan from the V&A Museum in London and displayed in Edinburgh for the first time. The photograph follows a bi-plane as it glides across the London skyline, with landmarks such as Tower Bridge and the River Thames in view. Exhibited by the Royal Photographic Society in 1925, The Heart of the Empire secured Buckham’s position as one of Britain’s leading aerial photographers. 

Experience the golden age of travel through Buckham’s portfolio of images spanning across the globe. In 1931, a commission from Fortune Magazine took Buckham on an epic fifteen-week trip across the Americas, covering 19,000 miles and setting a world record. Starting in New York City and taking the opportunity to capture the newly built Empire State Building, Buckham photographed his intrepid journey from the United States to the tip of South America to share with the world. Daredevil Photographer will chart Buckham’s incredible journey, from expansive views of Christ the Redeemer in Rio De Janeiro and the snowy caps of the Andes Mountains to perilous scenes of smoking volcanic creators in Guatemala and Mexico. Through his death-defying adventures and stunning photographs, Buckham expanded public understanding of the world, creating an exciting legacy which continues to capture imaginations today.

Louise Pearson, curator of photography at the National Galleries of Scotland says: “Alfred Buckham’s eye-catching photograph of Edinburgh is one of the most popular artworks in the National Galleries of Scotland collection. This enthralling image becomes even more intriguing when you learn that it is a darkroom jigsaw – a composite photograph made through a combination of technical skill and creative vision. Alfred Buckham: Daredevil Photographer tells the remarkable story of this maverick of early aviation whose adventures took him from aerial reconnaissance photographer to intrepid explorer via numerous loop the loops.”

Press release from National Galleries of Scotland

 

Alfred Buckham (British, 1879-1956) 'Castle Island Loch Leven (Where Mary Queen of Scots was Imprisoned)' about 1920

 

Alfred Buckham (British, 1879-1956)
Castle Island Loch Leven (Where Mary Queen of Scots was Imprisoned)
about 1920
Gelatin silver print
National Galleries of Scotland
Purchased with Art Fund support, 2008
© Richard and John Buckham

 

This photograph of Castle Island, where Mary, Queen of Scots was imprisoned in 1567, shows the vast expanse of the rolling countryside around Loch Leven, Scotland. The cloudy sky enhances the depth of the image and the small biplanes, which Buckham added later by hand, reinforce the dramatic scale.

 

Alfred Buckham (British, 1879-1956) 'Flying Boat Over Sea' 1930

 

Alfred Buckham (British, 1879-1956)
Flying Boat Over Sea
1930
Gelatin silver print
45.5 x 37.6cm
National Galleries of Scotland
Purchased with Art Fund support, 2008

 

This photograph captures the stormy ocean with its swelling crests of the waves illuminated white. Silhouetted against the threatening sky is a flying boat. This specialised form of aircraft was purposely designed to take off from, and land on, water. This feature was exploited during the World Wars but its use rapidly declined thereafter. Buckham was aware of the flying boat from his time in the Royal Naval Air Service and, specifically, his involvement in photographing the alterations required that allowed planes to take off from, and land on, a ship. 

 

Alfred Buckham (British, 1879-1956) 'The Loop' about 1930

 

Alfred Buckham (British, 1879-1956)
The Loop
about 1930
Gelatin silver print
National Galleries of Scotland
Purchased in recognition of over 40 years of work on the National Galleries of Scotland photography collection by James Berry, Senior Paper Conservator
© Richard and John Buckham

 

Alfred Buckham (British, 1879-1956) 'Volcano Crater of Popocatepetl' about 1930

 

Alfred Buckham (British, 1879-1956)
Volcano Crater of Popocatepetl
about 1930
National Galleries of Scotland
Purchased with Art Fund support, 2008
© Richard and John Buckham

 

In 1930 Buckham was commissioned by Fortune magazine to produce a portfolio of aerial photographs of his chosen area of the Americas. Buckman opted for central and South America and this dramatic photograph captures the centre of Mexican volcano, Popocatepetl. The snow covered edge of the crater contrasts against the ominous dark sky, creating a shot which captures the awe-inspiring power of an active volcano. Buckham described the journey of the flight as his aeroplane turned down into the crater: ‘Almost at once the aeroplane dropped about two hundred feet… Beneath us the circular lake of boiling lava emitted numerous spouts of smoke and steam, whilst round its edge played occasional fires which, suddenly springing up and flickering awhile, as suddenly disappeared.’

  

Alfred Buckham: Daredevil Photographer

Paperback – 12 Nov. 2025 by Louise Pearson (Author), James Crawford (Other Contributor)

Buy on Amazon

  

'Alfred Buckham: Daredevil Photographer' paperback November 2025, book pages
'Alfred Buckham: Daredevil Photographer' paperback November 2025, book pages
'Alfred Buckham: Daredevil Photographer' paperback November 2025, book pages

  

Alfred Buckham: Daredevil Photographer paperback November 2025, book pages

 

  

Scottish National Portrait Gallery
1 Queen Street, Edinburgh,
EH2 1JD, Scotland

Opening hours:
Daily, 10am – 5pm

National Galleries of Scotland website

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Exhibition: ‘Smile! How the Smile Came Into Photography’ at Museum Ludwig, Cologne

Exhibition dates: 1st November, 2025 – 22nd March, 2026

Curators: Miriam Szwast with Brit Meyer

 

Andy Warhol (American, 1928-1987) 'Warhol, Andy' 1972

 

Andy Warhol (American, 1928-1987)
Warhol, Andy
1972
Polaroid
10.8 x 8.6cm
Museum Ludwig, Cologne
Repro: Historisches Archiv mit Rheinischem Bildarchiv
©2025 The Andy Warhol Foundation for the Visual Arts, Inc. / Licensed by Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York

 

 

I went for a new passport photograph yesterday and the nice person took the first photographs, looked at them, and then said “too much smile”, close your mouth more, and took them again with no teeth exposed and my mouth in a thin, rictus line.

How do our “photographic faces” differ from our everyday faces?

Does not smiling in a photograph prevent us from displaying our individual personality?

What different types of smile are there and what do they signify?

“Smiles are complex, with researchers identifying up to 19 types ranging from genuine joy to social masking, with only six occurring during positive emotions. Key types include the genuine Duchenne smile (involving eyes), polite social smiles, and non-enjoyment smiles like contempt or discomfort, signalling various emotional, social, or, in some cases, aggressive messages.”1

Smiling does not just depend on social norms but researchers have found it may actually be programmed into our DNA, creating in built reactions to certain situations.2 From the miserable smile, to the dampened smile, qualifier smile, contempt smile and fear smile, there are many ways we can interact with others and with the camera lens.

From this distance in Australia and having not see the exhibition in person I can’t tell you whether this exhibition addresses the issues of different smiles pictured in photography but it seems unlikely given the text and media images.

For more information on facial expressions please see my text Facile, Facies, Facticity (January 2014) which examines the facticity of the face, in which only through the “thrownness” of the individual rendered in the lines of the human face can we engage with the intractable conditions of human existence.

Say cheese!

Dr Marcus Bunyan

 

1/ Zaria Gorvett. “There are 19 types of smile but only six are for happiness,” on the BBC website, 10 April 2017 [Online] Cited 06/03/2026

2/ Ibid.,


Many thankx to Museum Ludwig for allowing me to publish the photographs in the posting. Please click on the photographs for a larger version of the image.

 

 

Installation view of the exhibition 'Smile! How the smile came into photography' at the Museum Ludwig, Cologne, November 15, 2025 - March 22, 2026 showing at left, Hugo Erfurth's 'Hildegard Seemann-Wechler (painter)' (1929)

 

Installation view of the exhibition Smile! How the smile came into photography at the Museum Ludwig, Cologne, November 15, 2025 – March 22, 2026 showing at left, Hugo Erfurth’s Hildegard Seemann-Wechler (painter), (1929, below)
Photo: Historisches Archiv mit Rheinischem Bildarchiv/ Mark Weber

 

Paul-Marie-Léon Regnard (French, 1850-1927) 'Passionate Ecstatic Position/Expression' 1878 Part of 'Iconographie Photographique de la Salpetriere' (Service de M. Charcot)

 

Paul-Marie-Léon Regnard (French, 1850-1927)
Passionate Ecstatic Position/Expression
1878
Part of Iconographie Photographique de la Salpetriere (Service de M. Charcot)
Photogravure
Image: 10.3 × 7.1cm (4 1/16 × 2 13/16 in.)
The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles

NB. PHOTOGRAPH IS NOT IN THE EXHIBITION

 

Hugo Erfurth (German, 1874-1948) 'Hildegard Seemann-Wechler (painter)' 1929

 

Hugo Erfurth (German, 1874-1948)
Hildegard Seemann-Wechler (painter)
1929
Oil pigment print on cardboard
38.3 x 26.6cm
Museum Ludwig, Cologne
Repro: Historisches Archiv mit Rheinischem Bildarchiv

 

When Hildegard Seemann-Wechler had her portrait taken in Hugo Erfurth’s studio in Dresden, she was studying painting with Otto Dix. The strict frontality of this picture, the neutral background, and the direct gaze into the camera are softened by the slight hint of a smile at the corners of the artist’s mouth. Hildegard Seemann-Wechler’s bob hairstyle identifies her as a New Woman who rejects conservative role models. Her portrait breaks with the tradition of serious facial expressions in the 19th century and marks the threshold between not smiling and smiling. Collection presentations like this help us to explore our own works. On the back of this picture, the name “Hilde Wächler” is written in pencil. It was only during the preparations for Smile! that we noticed the mistake and were able to assign the person portrayed to her real name. In 1940, Hilde Seemann-Wechler was murdered by the Nazis.

 

Hildegard Seemann-Wechler (German, 1903-1940)

Hildegard Wechler came from a bourgeois background. She began her studies at the Staatliche Akademie für Kunstgewerbe in Dresden and moved to the Dresdener Kunstakademie in 1921, where she studied with Richard Müller, Robert Sterl, Ludwig von Hofmann and from 1927 with Otto Dix, three semesters of which as an individual student. In particular, she was supported by Sterl and Dix. Since that time she was friends with Eva Schulze-Knabe and Fritz Schulze. Since Hans and Lea Grundig also studied at the academy, it can be assumed that she also had contact with them.

After her studies, Hildegard Wechler worked in Dresden as a freelance artist. In 1929 she married the painter Herbert Seemann (1900-1945). In 1931, she had the first symptoms of mental illness. The doctors diagnosed an incurable schizophrenia and referred her to the Landesheil- und Pflegeanstalt Arnsdorf. She spent eight and a half years there. She was forcibly sterilized at the State Women’s Hospital Dresden.

In 1940 she was transferred to the Landesheil- und Pflegeanstalt Leipzig-Dösen, on 18. June 1940 to the Heil- und Pflegeanstalt Großschweidnitz. On the 3rd In September 1940, a transport commando brought her to the Pirna-Sonnenstein killing center. She was murdered there shortly afterwards as part of the euthanasia “Aktion T4” as one of at least 14,751 victims of this institution, including the Dresden painters Gertrud Fleck and Elfriede Lohse-Wächtler, in the gas chamber disguised as a bathroom.

Text from the German Wikipedia website translated by Google Translate

 

Installation view of the exhibition 'Smile! How the smile came into photography' at the Museum Ludwig, Cologne, November 15, 2025 - March 22, 2026 showing at right, Man Ray's 'Lips, (Lee Miller)' (1930)

 

Installation view of the exhibition Smile! How the smile came into photography at the Museum Ludwig, Cologne, November 15, 2025 – March 22, 2026 showing at right, Man Ray’s Lips, (Lee Miller), (1930, below)
Photo: Historisches Archiv mit Rheinischem Bildarchiv/ Mark Weber

 

Man Ray (American, 1890-1976) 'Lips, (Lee Miller)' 1930

 

Man Ray (American, 1890-1976)
Lips, (Lee Miller)
1930
Print
21 x 25.5cm
Museum Ludwig, Cologne
Repro: Historisches Archiv mit Rheinischem B

 

Lee Miller’s closed lips reveal hardly any emotion. And yet every facial expression communicates something about the time and circumstances in which a portrait was taken. Even today, we find fashions in lip positioning when a person is photographed – such as pursed lips in the “duckface” or the slight opening of the mouth in the “fish gape.” The development of dental care is certainly only one of the reasons why we statistically show more teeth when being photographed today than we did a hundred years ago, and why saying “cheese” is supposed to make our faces look their most photogenic.

 

 

Smizing, squinching, duck face, fish gape, cheese, or prunes: Beauty ideals and social media have given rise to increasingly mercurial trends in portrait photography. Until the late nineteenth century, having one’s photo taken required the sitter to remain absolutely motionless in order to produce a sharp image, which more often than not resulted in a fixed and lifeless expression.

Smile! How the Smile Came Into Photography, presented in the Museum Ludwig Photography Rooms, investigates how our “photographic faces” have evolved over time. The show assembles a range of anonymous and artistic portrait photographs from the nineteenth to the twenty-first century to recount a history of the smile.

Whether or not we smile when being photographed, or whether we show our teeth, depends on social norms and the photographic technology available. In 1878, the photographer Josef Janssen observed that “the awkward situation in which a person finds themselves at the moment of having their photo taken is in itself enough to prevent them from displaying their individual personality. Motionless and with a fixed gaze, their head leaning on that dreaded, detestable head rest, they are required for a set period of time to stare at a certain point in space that generally offers the eye nothing of interest. What else could this result in but stiffness and lifelessness?”

The fact that people in the nineteenth century rarely smiled when having their picture taken in a photographic studio also reflected contemporary norms regarding how one should appear in a portrait, norms based on conventional ideas of class, gender, and context. Emotions were considered a private matter that had no place in a portrait.

The emergence of silent film played a key role in the appearance of the smile in twentieth-century portraits. Facial expressions were used to convey emotions, filling the frame in tight close-up shots. Parallel to this, headshots increasingly replaced full-body portraits. Then came advertising, where the beaming smiles of actors served to embody the allure of products. The corners of the mouth began to rise ever upward. A 2015 study of student portraits in American yearbooks revealed that smiling in photographs has consistently increased since the start of the twentieth century, with results confirming that women smile more than men. A trend toward increased facial expressiveness can be observed the world over. A look at fashion photography, however, shows that status and coolness are conveyed with barely a smile. As early as 1927, the sociologist Siegfried Kracauer noted that the world – and thus the people in it – had taken on a “photographic face.” The presentation at the Museum Ludwig aims to show that this observation still holds true today and that the smile has a history.

The show is accompanied by a publication with a text by Katharina Sykora. #PhotographyFaces #MLxPhotography

Press release from Museum Ludwig

 

Installation view of the exhibition 'Smile! How the smile came into photography' at the Museum Ludwig, Cologne, November 15, 2025 - March 22, 2026 showing Agfa advertising test, around 1965

 

Installation view of the exhibition Smile! How the smile came into photography at the Museum Ludwig, Cologne, November 15, 2025 – March 22, 2026 showing Afga Advertising tests (around 1965, below)
Photo: Historisches Archiv mit Rheinischem Bildarchiv/ Mark Weber

 

These two photographs can be found in the archives of Agfa’s advertising department, which are now kept at the Museum Ludwig. While the color chart in one picture reveals that it is an informal test shot for the photographer, the other picture shows the official version of the advertisement. Only in the official version is everyone smiling – even the man holding the camera in front of his face to take a snapshot of his family. Since advertising has to communicate people’s happiness with a particular product, it contributed enormously to the spread and normalisation of smiling, laughing people in pictures. This is particularly the case with the advertisement of the photo industry. As Christina Kotchemidova writes in her article “Why we say ‘Chesse’: Producing the Smile in Snapshot Photography”: “Obviously, amateurs learned from advertisements (…). The visuals ensured that the advertising ideal was accurately replicated, thus making popular photography an extension of advertising culture.”

 

Unknown Photographer. 'Agfa advertising test' around 1965

 

Unknown Photographer
Agfa advertising test
around 1965
Color photography
Museum Ludwig, Cologne

 

'Photo studio on the roof' 1845, illustration from 'Erich Stenger: Siegeszug der Photographie in Kultur, Wissenschaft, Technik' 1950

 

Photo studio on the roof
1845
Illustration from Erich Stenger: Siegeszug der Photographie in Kultur, Wissenschaft, Technik, 1950
Archiv Museum Ludwig, Köln

 

The more light there is, the shorter the exposure time when taking photographs. That is why photo studios in the 19th century were often set up in attics with large windows. In good weather, photographs were sometimes taken directly on the roof. Nevertheless, we can still see the head support that kept the person being photographed motionless for the duration of the shot and helped to ensure that the image was sharp. Such head supports were part of the necessary equipment of a photo studio and certainly did not help the subject to relax. In 1878, photographer Josef Janssen observed: “[…] the predicament in which the person finds themselves at the moment of the shot is enough to prevent them from freely expressing their individuality. Leaning against the much-hated and feared, yet indispensable head support, they are supposed to remain motionless and stare intently for a while at a certain point that usually offers nothing for the eye to look at. What else can be the result of this but rigidity and lifelessness?”

 

Adolf Hengeler (German, 1863-1927) "At the photographer's: 'Now, young lady, please smile nicely and look friendly!…One, two, three!… That's it, thank you! Now you can go back to your natural expression!'" Published in 'Fliegende Blätter' 1893

 

Adolf Hengeler (German, 1863-1927)
“At the photographer’s: ‘Now, young lady, please smile nicely and look friendly!…One, two, three!… That’s it, thank you! Now you can go back to your natural expression!'”
Published in Fliegende Blätter, 1893
Print
47 x 36.4cm
Museum Ludwig, Cologne
Repro: Historisches Archiv mit Rheinischem Bildarchiv

 

“Now, young lady, please make a nice and friendly!… One, two, three!… That’s it, thank you! Now you can go back to your natural expression!” This was the caption accompanying the caricature when it was published in the magazine Fliegende Blätter in 1893. The fact that the subject is depicted wearing a clown mask shows, on the one hand, that people were already familiar with smiling “photography faces” at the end of the 19th century and, on the other hand, that the women portrayed were supposed to appear ‘nice’ and ‘friendly’ through their smiles. The fact that there are other types of smiles was already mentioned in Grimm’s dictionary from 1885, such as happy, cheerful, mischievous, furtive, shy, malicious, bitter, scornful, mocking, and forced. In 2020, Carolita Johnson described in her article “‘I don’t have to smile if I don’t feel like it!’: Covid freed me from politeness and unwanted touching” in The Guardian how wearing face masks during the coronavirus pandemic freed her from the pressure of having to wear the mask of the friendly smiling woman.

 

Julia Margaret Cameron (English born India, 1815-1879) 'Summer-days' 1866

 

Julia Margaret Cameron (English born India, 1815-1879)
Summer-days
1866
Albumen print on cardboard
34.0 x 27.6cm
Museum Ludwig, Cologne
Repro: Historisches Archiv mit Rheinischem Bildarchiv

 

Nadar (Gaspard-Félix Tournachon) (French, 1820-1910) 'Portrait of Marc de Montifaut' around 1877

 

Nadar (Gaspard-Félix Tournachon) (French, 1820-1910)
Portrait of Marc de Montifaut
around 1877
Woodburytype on cardboard
22.9 x 18.6 cm
Museum Ludwig, Cologne
Repro: Historisches Archiv mit Rheinischem Bildarchiv

 

Gaspard-Félix Tournachon (French, 5 April 1820 – 20 March 1910), known by the pseudonym Nadar or Félix Nadar, was a French photographer, caricaturist, journalist, novelist and balloonist who was a proponent of heavier-than-air flight. In 1858, he became the first person to take aerial photographs. Photographic portraits by Nadar are held by many of the great national collections of photographs. His son, Paul Nadar, continued the studio after his death.

 

 

Smiling: A Photographic Balancing Act between Seriousness and Laughter

Katharina Sykora

 

Between spontaneity and strategy: smiling as an indicator of emotion

In everyday life, a smile immediately inspires feelings of happiness. While today we experience smiling as a spontaneous expression of affection, our understanding of smiling as a legible, socially acceptable facial gesture is the result of centuries of debate. It was oten viewed as an expression that sat midway between seriousness and laughter. Discussions around the nature of the smile gained in intensity in the nineteenth century with the invention of photography, which saw many in the aristocracy and the upwardly-mobile bourgeoisie discovering themselves anew in portrait studios. Meyers Encyclopaedia (1865) describes smiling as a weaker version of laughing because “it lacks the intermittent exhalation,”1 while in his remarks on The Expression of the Emotions in Man and Animals (1872), Charles Darwin describes laughter as “the full development of a smile or … a gentle smile as the last trace of a habit, firmly fixed during many generations, of laughing.”2 In both cases, smiling is cast not as an emotion in its own right but as a relative form derived from a strong, joyful feeling. This contrasts with the expressive range of smiles allowed for by the Brothers Grimm: “Smiling,” they write in their German Dictionary (1885) “may be friendly, happy, cheerful, affectionate, gentle, mischievous, furtive, shy, even malevolent, biter, mocking, scornful, or forced.”3

This highlights the long-standing controversy that has historically accompanied discussions around smiling and that continues today. On the one hand, a smile is evaluated based on where it is perceived to sit on a spectrum between seriousness and laughter and – depending on its proximity to either extreme – subjected to positive or negative moral, societal, or aesthetic judgements. On the other hand, because the spectrum between seriousness and laughter contains many nuances, smiling is perceived as a versatile
expression that can attest to a variety of different feelings and communicate a broad range of meanings in social interactions depending on the socio-historical context. The first perspective tends to view smiling within normative parameters, while the second situates it within a kaleidoscope of micro-sociological observations.

An important question running through historical and historiographical discussions of seriousness, smiling, and laughter asks whether these are expressions of inner emotion or learned facial gestures and behaviour patterns. In other words, whether laughing and smiling are anthropological constants common to all humans as immediate expressions of emotion, or whether they are a strategic means of communication used to one’s own advantage in specific situations.

In the mid-nineteenth century, photography played a prominent role in this debate. In his book The Mechanism of Human Facial Expression, published in 1862 and containing a hundred photographs,4 the doctor and physiologist Guillaume-Benjamin-Armand Duchenne de Boulogne presented an experiment in which he used targeted electric shocks to trigger a wide range of expressions on a test person whose facial nerves lacked sensation. One of these included a homogenous smile involving all of his features that resembled the kind of
facial expression observed in everyday settngs. But Duchenne was also able to trigger paradoxical facial expressions that could only be induced by electric shocks, such as a smiling mouth combined with eyes and forehead contorted by pain. Through such experiments, Duchenne sought a systematic “orthography of a supposedly universal language”5 of human physiognomy in order to render it more legible. Paradoxically, he disconnected inner affects from their outer manifestations while connectng them all the more strongly in terms of their
meaning, as when, by analogy with the laughing muscle, he describes the nasalis (nose) muscle as a “muscle of aggression” or the frontalis muscle (that moves the eyebrows) as a “muscle of suffering.”6

One far-reaching side effect of Duchenne’s test setup was the realization that
manifestations of human emotion can be manufactured without necessarily corresponding to a felt equivalent. By twinning electro-physical and photographic procedures, Duchenne proved in the field of science what had long been commonplace in the world of the theater – where professional actors routinely simulate emotions – and everyday life – where individuals control their expressions when interacting with others. In this way, Duchenne contributed his “theater of science”7 to the list of “production sites” for the decoupling of facial expression from emotion, where it joined the theatrical stage and milieus of social interaction.

At the same time, Duchenne’s use of electric shocks to produce expressions revealed their dual social function: Anyone could use them as a systematic means of portraying emotion detached from any corresponding internal feeling, and they could be decoded just as systematically by others as “artificial” rather than “natural” displays of sentiment. This benefited another site invested in the social coding of emotions: the increasingly numerous
photographic studios where the middle classes were now able to have portraits made of themselves, creating a specific repertoire of facial expressions as part of a class-specific pose. What these theatrical, scientific, and photographic settings all demonstrate is that seriousness, smiling, and laughter can be performed in a way that is legible. They are part of a social act that always involves two or more people.8 With Duchenne’s contribution to the
visual ordering and classification of seriousness, smiling, and laughter, photography advanced over the course of the nineteenth century to become the primary medium for the representation, communication, and standardisation of emotions. It became a platform for self-portrayal, for the negotiation of social hierarchies and values, and for the establishment and reinforcement of universal forms of emotional expression.

Looking back: a brief discursive and visual history of smiling

The history of smiling, as traced through past discourses and visual representations, reflects the shifts in society’s acceptance of the portrayal of specific emotions and the influence this has had on photographic (self-) presentations of people since the nineteenth century. What immediately becomes clear is that smiling has not always been understood as the midpoint between seriousness and laughter but situated somewhere closer to the later. Even more surprisingly from today’s perspective, laughter and especially smiling historically occupied no place at all in social behaviours and visual representations, and when they did appear, their initial connotations were largely negative.

“Before the twelfth century,” writes the art historian Monika E. Müller, “one can expect to find almost no illustrations of emotion in the form of facial expressions.”9 The reason for this was the dominance of Christian morals, which opposed the portrayal of strong emotions in general. The Greek and Roman Church Fathers shared a negative view of laughter, considering it antithetical to the ideal of a God-fearing person leading a life of humility and atonement. As a result, books of monastic precepts banned laughter as sinful behaviour.10

In the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, grinning devils increasingly appeared in
portrayals of the Apocalypse, there were chortling henchmen along Christ’s route to Calvary, and there were grotesque heads guffawing on the capitals of cathedrals or in the margins of illuminated manuscripts. These polarising counter-figures were depicted as bystanders, relegated to the edges of the sacred realm. Here, laughter was not an expression of cheerfulness but a sign of vice and evil.

In the thirteenth century, smiling made its first appearance as a positive trait in
Christian iconography but was reserved for Mary, the Christ Child, angels, and those souls resurrected into a state of heavenly bliss. Here, too, exceptions gradually emerged: In the portal of the Last Judgement at Strasbourg Cathedral, for example, we find the Prince of this World (c. 1280) flashing a mischievous grin in the direction of a Foolish Virgin with a flirtatiously simpering smile. This erotically charged tête-à-tête takes on a negative tone, however, once one notices that the Prince’s back is being devoured by snakes and vermin. Moreover, the coquette is shown to be doubly foolish – distracted by her “sinful” fleshly desire for a figure whose true nature is hidden from her, unlike the lamenting Wise Virgins, she has unwittingly dropped the oil lamp that was meant to remain lit in anticipation of Christ’s arrival. In this way, depictions of smiling joined those of laughter in Christian iconography, where their differentiation into the beatific and the seductive supported theological morals.

Once smiling began to feature in secular imagery – as in the statue of Margravine Regelinda in the west choir at Naumburg Cathedral (c. 1250) – the binary Christian model underwent a fundamental reevaluation. In the thirteenth century, a tradition of courtly politeness emerged in which smiling carried positive connotations, signalling friendly attentiveness guided by self-restraint. Books on courtly etiquete established gestural moderation as the norm. Smiling was courtly in a double sense: It bound the nobility together through a shared code of conduct while also distinguishing them from the “uncouth” populous.

As the modern age progressed, further differentiation took place. Courtiers amused each other by engaging in witty repartee. Eliciting a subtle smile that acknowledged one’s skill while remaining shielded from ridicule behind a noncommittal smile of one’s own was the basis of an amicable but increasingly competitive court culture. Smiling became an instrument with which to perpetually renegotiate one’s position within the court hierarchy. As a result, the rules governing seriousness, laughter, and smiling became ever more rigid
and complex, so that only a select few courtiers ever mastered the art of it. This in turn created gender and aesthetic norms: Young girls and high-ranking ladies were expected to wholly avoid displays of loud laughter, as they pointed to a lack of self-control in the “weaker sex,” and its distortion of the facial features was considered inappropriate for the “fairer sex.”

In the Renaissance, these norms were applied to portraits of the wealthy burghers of the urban centers. Here, the hint of a smile was considered acceptable, while open laughter was viewed as the hallmark of courtesans, marginal figures at court who, together with the fool or jester, broke with the rules of politeness through displays of untamed conduct while simultaneously affirming them.

A similarly paradoxical relationship emerged in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries with the rise in popularity of genre paintings, which often depicted members of the lower classes boisterously laughing during exuberant scenes of eating and drinking and were often filled with erotic allusions. These paintings, mostly by Dutch artists, both challenged and affirmed the cultural conventions around laughter, often involving the viewer by establishing direct eye contact, creating a sense of complicity and shared amusement.

By contrast, in the eighteenth century, the aspiring bourgeoisie increasingly set itself apart, imposing stricter limits on exuberant laughter. With reference to the aristocratic norm of disciplined facial expressions, it adopted smiling as its hallmark. At the same time, it distanced itself from the courtly performance of smiling. Since those at court were all trying to functionalise their facial expressions and tame their emotions, it was no longer possible to trust their smiles.11 From the viewpoint of the bourgeoisie, courtly smiling was now
considered unnatural. This reflected changes in affect theory, as Johann Caspar Lavater’s physiognomy and Georg Christoph Lichtenberg’s pathognomy now postulated congruency between facial expressions and inner emotions.12 The “forced” smiles of the aristocrats at court were contrasted with the “genuine,” “heartfelt” bourgeois laughter that did not hurt anyone or assume superiority. However, such amiable laughter among equals was not part of public displays of bourgeois identity. In public and in official portraits, the bourgeoisie presented themselves with a seriousness that matched their social aspirations. The network building, convivial laughter of bourgeois men and the smiles of bourgeois women were reserved for smaller, more intimate formats such as drawings or miniatures. In other words, such displays of emotion were privatised, confined to salons and the home.

Photography and the smile: a tense relationship

At the end of the 1830s, during this transitional phase when bourgeois culture was still navigating between seriousness and smiling, photography emerged as a new medium for recording and representation. Its specific qualities allowed facial expressions to be captured with great precision while also imposing limits on the expression of emotions such as smiling and laughter.

The indexicality of photography – namely, the fact that the subject must have been present while their likeness was being transferred onto the image – meant that photographs were like a second skin. Just as it was assumed that one’s facial expression was a direct translation of one’s emotion, it was also believed that this emotion was directly imprinted onto the photograph. The indexical promise of photography thus suggested that one was looking directly – through a kind of double, transparent membrane – into the soul of the sitter. For the bourgeoisie, with its imperative of natural, uncontrived expression of emotions, photography thus served as proof of the authenticity of the emotions on display. It is all the more surprising, then, that it was well into the twentieth century before smiles began to appear on the faces of the bourgeoisie in studio photographs. For bourgeois men in particular, the expression of seriousness that prevailed in this context was a strategy that allowed them to present themselves as level-headed, stabilising members of society. The resulting contradiction remained a blind spot in their self-image: Photography as an
apparatus for capturing an indexical authentication of “genuine feelings” turned into its opposite as demonstrative seriousness became part of a bourgeois pose that was legitimated as “real” by the medium’s promise of truth.

Just as important as indexicality is another specific quality of the photographic
medium: the way it cuts through space and time. Since laughing and smiling are “fleeting signs of an emotion as expressive movement,”13 the moment in which a photograph is taken, fixing a single instant in the flow of living time, is especially precarious. While it is easy to maintain a serious expression for a long exposure time, laughter is comparatively brief and consists of a sequence of different expressions. Capturing a laugh at the peak of its crescendo requires a short exposure time, as well as technical skill and psychological foresight on the part of the photographer; they must be able to quickly intuit when to press
the shutter in order to capture the laugh on the sitter’s face, in turn underscoring the photographer’s ultimate control over the image compared to that of the subject. In temporal terms, photographs of laughter thus tend to be “stolen” images, a quality that can be compensated for by the consenting gaze of the sitter. The belated arrival of laughter as a viable photographic motif in the 1920s was, on the one hand, due to technical developments that allowed for shorter exposure times and, on the other, the result of a renegotiation of the power dynamics between the photographer and their subject.

Photographing a smile is different to capturing laughter. A smile can be maintained for considerably longer than a laugh, though not as long as a serious expression. Since smiling is a fluid movement of the mouth and the corners of the eyes, the way a photograph severs the sequence of a smile is both all the more obvious and all the more arbitrary. In the twentieth century, the request to “smile please” performed a function similar to that of “don’t move”
in the studio photography of the previous century. It directed the subject to “freeze” their smile, thus detaching it from any emotion that might have prompted it and seeing it into a pose. As a stabilised facial expression, smiling complied with the technical parameters of photography at the time. On a cultural level, however, it was precisely this compatibility that led to the smiling photo face becoming the norm – as witnessed in the monotony of smiles from family photographs after World War II to the selfies of the 2000s.

How the smiling photo face came to be

“Why do we smile in photographs?” asks the art historian André Gunthert,14 who suggests that this phenomenon may be due to the coincidence of two important developments: the evolving concept of the individual and its self-portrayal in the Western world and the emergence of visual mass media – first illustrated newspapers, then photography, and finally film. These developments influenced each other and continue to do so today: Thanks to
mass media, images are propagated at an increasingly rapid speed, reaching ever greater numbers of people, who model their behaviour on them. Photography, as a genuinely reproducible medium, has been foundational to these developments. As a result, the spread of the smile in photographs is closely linked to the medium’s technical developments and its growing accessibility. It wasn’t until the 1890s that cameras fell into the hands of amateur photographers, a transition made possible by the roll-film camera developed in 1888 by George Eastman. This was followed by ever more lightweight, user-friendly cameras, such as the first Leica made for small-format negatives, prototyped in 1913 and mass produced from 1925, or the Ermanox, designed in 1924, which played a crucial role in photojournalism,
enabling images to be taken in low-light conditions. The studios, where the standards of bourgeois seriousness were still largely upheld, now found themselves in competition with amateur photographers.

This shift altered the relationship between photographers and their subjects. The intimacy of the family or circle of friends made it possible to capture forms of coexistence that were not bound to the strict rules of public image. In such familiar settings, private “snapshots” of laughing or smiling people no longer risked being viewed as “stolen images” that would be exposed to an unpredictable public response. Instead, the pictures remained private, with viewing sessions and the exchange of prints strengthening ties among friends
and family members. As an agent of social cohesion, smiling demonstrated the sitter’s consent to being photographed and was just as important as the shared private enjoyment the resulting pictures generated. From this time, family albums began to contain more and more images of people smiling and laughing. Even in these private photographs, smiles often varied depending on the gender of the subject; bourgeois women and children of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries were still confined primarily to the private sphere, with smiling the “natural,” morally acceptable, and aesthetically appropriate mode of expression in this domain. A broad smile while looking directly into the camera continued to be associated more with the lower classes and those on the fringes of society, such as demimondaines, sex workers, and stage performers.

For a long time, studio photography clung to the tradition of a public image based on serious expressions and rigid poses, but it was unable to entirely prevent the new tendency toward smiling from creeping in. The studios countered this with biting satires that ridiculed smiling as improper and “false.” Spontaneous, private expressions of emotion did not make
the transition to the studios, where smiling remained a mask assumed only for the time it took to take a picture.

This changed over the course of the 1920s and 1930s. In 1932, the photographer
Gilbert de Chambertrand declared the old form of studio photography obsolete. It treated people like statues, he argued, whereas modern portrait photography focused on people influenced by outdoor pursuits, sports, and the cinema whose faces expressed lively emotions.15 Shifts in society, such as the rise of the urban middle classes (the “salaried masses”) and the emancipation of women (the “New Woman”), led to a greater variety of facial expressions in photographic portraits, and an aesthetic shaped by the motion pictures
contributed to a greater expressivity.16 With its extreme close-ups, bold cropping, and shifts in perspective, the New Vision movement was characterised by a formal dynamism that amplified the dynamism of the facial expressions it captured. And the role models multiplied, too: In studio portraits of the 1920s and 1930s, elegant women gaze out at us bearing smiles copied from photographs of famous actresses and sporty young girls laugh warmly at the person behind the camera. In extreme cases, a smile may even appear without a face, in a close-up shot of a mouth with lipstick. As its range expanded, smiling became the norm, fostered by its dissemination via the mass media of magazines and movies through which it eventually conquered the public sphere and official portrait photography.

After World War II, this development intensified, especially in the West, beginning in the United States where the commercialisation of amateur photography had opened up a huge market. An analysis of high school yearbook photographs over several decades shows the gradual trend toward smiling.17 By the 1950s at the latest, “social smiles” that marked those photographed as friendly members of the community had become mandatory.

Spontaneous smiles, which engaged the eye muscles, increasingly gave way to a mere upward curve of the mouth. In public, this more restrained smile became a compulsory sign of polite distance when encountering strangers, as an overly serious expression risked being misconstrued as aggression.18 Pervasive advertising, movies, and later television increasingly blended private and public spheres, ultimately elevating the once-private smile to the status of an omnipresent social norm.

In the United States in particular, this was accompanied by an upgrading of the kind of smile required by photographers, as “please smile” was replaced by calls to “say cheese,” prompting the sitter to smile broadly, showing their teeth. Different reasons have been given for this “cheesy grin”: the need for non-confrontational interactions in times of increasing social insecurity or the desire to display one’s wealth and radiant state of good health. (In the
past, possessing a perfect set of teeth could not be taken for granted and often involved considerable costs.) This time, the media role models were Hollywood stars,19 pin-up models, and the happy families depicted in advertisements.20 In this way, a flourishing post-war America spread its broad smile not only across its own country but across the whole of the Western world.

Since the 1990s, if not before, we have witnessed a strong counter-movement to the dominance of the smile. The concept of “coolness” categorically refuses the call to smile, demonstratively playing with the latent aggression associated with a serious expression, from which it derives the power of its image and gaze. The subject of a “cool” portrait is most often young, versed in street culture and involved in the worlds of music and fashion and their advertising campaigns. The straight face of cool has become the new photo face. Or has
it turned back into the old one? What distinguishes the serious expression of the “cool guy” from that of the bourgeois man in nineteenth-century studio photography? The underlying model of masculinity is comparable, a display of self-confidence, self-control, and defensiveness. The difference lies in the casual pose, the informal clothing, and the overt display of a fit physique, all set against an urban setting or edgy studio backdrop. But it is above all its contrast to the typical cheesy grin that makes not smiling such a surefire fashion
statement. A scene in the movie Triangle of Sadness (2022) offers a striking illustration of this: At a casting session, a number of young male models are asked to pose for the camera. To test their range of facial expressions, instead of asking for “cool” or “cheese,” the photographer alternately calls out “Balenciaga!” and “H&M!” Here, seriousness and smiling have undergone another shift in function and meaning: No longer manifestations of emotion or masks, they have become brands.

 

Footnotes

1/ Neues Konversations-Lexikon, ein Wörterbuch des allgemeinen Wissens, ed. Hermann J. Meyer, (Hildburgshausen: Bibliographisches Institut, 1865), 10: 474, under “Lachen,” quoted in Timm Starl, “Vom Lächeln: Erörterungen zu einer seltenen fotografischen Erscheinung des 19. Jahrhunderts,” in Fotografische Leidenschaften, ed. Katharina Sykora et al. (Marburg: Jonas, 2006), 34.
2/ Charles Darwin, The Expression of the Emotions in Man and Animals (New York: Appleton, 1872), 209.
3/ Jacob Grimm and Wilhelm Grimm, Deutsches Wörterbuch, vol. 6 (Leipzig: Hirzel, 1885; rep., Munich: dtv, 1984), 14-15, quoted in Starl, “Vom Lächeln,” 33.
4/ Guillaume-Benjamin-Armand Duchenne de Boulogne, Mécanisme de la physiognomie humaine ou analyse électrophysiologique de l’expression des passions (Paris: Asselin, 1862).
5/ Petra Löffler, Fabrikation der Affekte: Fotografien zwischen Wissenschaft und Ästhetik,” in Fotografische Leidenschaften, 43.
6/ Duchenne de Boulogne, quoted in Petra Löffler, Affektbilder: Eine Mediengeschichte der Mimik (Bielefeld: transcript, 2004), 123.
7/ Gunnar Schmidt, Das Gesicht: Eine Mediengeschichte (Munich: Fink, 2003), 51-75.
8/ See Beatrix Müller-Kampel, “Komik und das Komische: Kriterien und Kategorien,” in Lithes, Zeitschrift für Literatur- und Theatersoziologie 7 (2012): 22. See also Werner Rocke and Hans Rudolf Velten, “Einleitung,” in Lachgemeinschaften: Kulturelle Inszenierungen und soziale Wirkungen von Gelächter im Mittelalter und in der Frühen Neuzeit (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2005), 13: 22.
9/ Monika E. Müller, “Das Lachen ist dem Menschen eigen … Seine Darstellung in der Kunst des Mitelalters,” in Seliges Lächeln und höfisches Gelächter, exh. cat., Dom- und Diözesanmuseum Mainz (Regensburg: Schnell & Steiner, 2012), 71. The way strong emotions and passions were portrayed in antiquity, as in the statue of the Laocoön Group or Aristotle’s remarks on the link between affect and physical-facial expressions of emotion, only gained importance later.
10/ Müller, “Das Lachen ist dem Menschen eigen,” 72.
11/ See Adolph Freiherr von Knigge, Über den Umgang mit Menschen, 5th ed. (Hanover: Schmidtsche Buchhandlung, 1796).
12/ See Johann Caspar Lavater, Essays on Physiognomy, Designed to Promote the Knowledge and the Love of Mankind. Georg Christoph Lichtenberg, “On Physiognomy: Against the Physiognomists” (1778).
13/ Löffler, Affektbilder, 164.
14/ André Gunthert, Pourquoi sourit-on en photographie? (Lyon: 205, 2023).
15/ See Gilbert de Chambertrand, Le Portrait et l’Amateur (Paris: Paul Montel, 1937), 5, quoted in Gunthert, Pourquoi sourit-on en photographie?, 36.
16/ In the first half of the twentieth century, Expressionist and Soviet films in particular helped expand the vocabulary of facial expressions seen in modern individuals and their photographic portraits. See Gunthert, Pourquoi sourit-on en photographie?, 36-39.
17/ See Shiry Ginosar et al., “A Century of Portraits: A Visual Historical Record of American Highschool Yearbooks,” in IEEE Transactions on Computational Imaging 3, no.3 (2017): 421-31, quoted in Gunthert, Pourquoi sourit-on en photographie?, 15, fn. 7.
18/ Maria A. Arapova has shown that in the Soviet Union, in contrast to countries influenced by the United States, smiling in public was not customary, reserved instead for the private sphere. See Maria A. Arapova, “Cultural
Differences in Russian and Western Smiling,” Russian Journal of Communication 9 (2017): 34-52, quoted in Gunthert, Pourquoi sourit-on en photographie?, 47, fn. 30.
19/ See Angus Tumble, A Brief History of the Smile (New York: Basic Books, 2004), quoted in Gunthert, Pourquoi sourit-on en photographie?, 12, fn. 2.
20/ See Christina Kotchemidova, “Why We Say ‘Cheese’: Producing the Smile in Snapshot Photography,” Critical Studies in Media Communication 22, no. 1 (March 2005), quoted in Gunthert, Pourquoi sourit-on en photographie?, 14, fn. 6.

 

August Sander (German, 1876-1964) 'Girl with Ball' (Mädchen mit Ball) 1910s

 

August Sander (German, 1876-1964)
Girl with Ball (Mädchen mit Ball)
1910s
Gelatin silver paper
10.7 x 6.9cm
Museum Ludwig, Cologne
Repro: Historisches Archiv mit Rheinischem Bildarchiv
© Die Photographische Sammlung/SK Stiftung Kultur-August Sander Archiv, Köln / VG Bild-Kunst, Bonn 2025

 

'Test images from the photo booth, Kaufhof, Cologne' 1920s

 

Test images from the photo booth, Kaufhof, Cologne
1920s
Gelatin silver paper
Archiv Museum Ludwig, Köln

 

The introduction of photo booths in the 1920s meant that portraits could be taken cheaply and without being observed by photographers, which encouraged people to experiment, as we can see in this test strip taken in a Cologne department store.

 

Unknown photographer. 'Class photo' 1923

 

Unknown photographer
Class photo
1923
Archive Museum Ludwig

 

A comparative study of school photographs in the USA showed that the corners of the mouth have been rising steadily in portraits since 1900. A comparison of two class photos from the Museum Ludwig archive, taken forty years apart, confirms this: whereas in 1923 the expressions were still serious, in 1963 there are smiling faces. However, the US study also showed that girls and women smile significantly more than boys and men. “Photography faces,” whether they smile or not, are culturally formed faces.

 

Unknown photographer. 'Class photo' 1963

 

Unknown photographer
Class photo
1963
Archive Museum Ludwig

 

Average lip curvature over the 20th century

 

Andy Warhol (American, 1928-1987) 'Warhol, Andy' 1972

 

Andy Warhol (American, 1928-1987)
Warhol, Andy
1972
Polaroid
10.8 x 8.6cm
Museum Ludwig, Cologne
Repro: Historisches Archiv mit Rheinischem Bildarchiv
©2025 The Andy Warhol Foundation for the Visual Arts, Inc. / Licensed by Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York

 

Andy Warhol experimented early on with the Polaroid instant camera. He photographed himself as well as visitors to his studio, The Factory, in New York in the 1970s. He collected the snapshots in several photo albums. Their spontaneity is evident in the fact that they often appear flawed, whether because only the forehead is visible in the picture or because the face of the person portrayed is not yet a standard “photography face.”

 

Thomas Struth (German, b. 1954) 'The Schäfer Family, Meerbusch 1990' 1990

 

Thomas Struth (German, b. 1954)
The Schäfer Family, Meerbusch 1990
1990
C-print
166 x 198cm
Museum Ludwig, Cologne
Acquisition with the support of the Peter and Irene Ludwig Foundation
Repro: Historisches Archiv mit Rheinischem Bildarchiv
© Thomas Struth

 

Since the 1980s, Thomas Struth has been photographing families from his circle in their familiar surroundings. While the people in his pictures choose their own clothing, gestures, and looks, he asks them not to smile for the camera. In an interview with the Süddeutsche Zeitung, the photographer explained this as follows: “It is often said that when everyone smiles, they all look the same. But they can’t all look different either. In my opinion, there are enough photos of people laughing.” Ann Katrin Harfensteller-Rufenach adds in her book Dazwischen-Sein. Familienporträts von Thomas Struth und jüngere Positionen in der Fotokunst in Deutschland (Being in Between: Family Portraits by Thomas Struth and Recent Positions in Photographic Art in Germany): “But the unusual size of the camera may also have been fascinating and encouraged an appealing facial expression.” In fact, Thomas Struth photographed this image with a large-format camera on a tripod, similar to the photographers of the 19th century.

 

 

Museum Ludwig
Heinrich-Böll-Platz, 50667 Köln, Germany

Opening hours:
Tues­­day through Sun­­day: 10am – 6pm

Museum Ludwig website

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Exhibition: ‘Boris Mikhailov: Ukrainian Diary’ at The Photographers’ Gallery, London

Exhibition dates: 10th October, 2025 – 22nd February, 2026

Curators: Laurie Hurwitz and Shoair Mavlian in collaboration with Boris and Vita Mikhailov

 

Installation view of the exhibition 'Boris Mikhailov: Ukrainian Diary' at The Photographers' Gallery, London showing at left, photographs from his series 'Luriki' (1971-1985) and 'Sots Art' (c. 1975-1986); and at right, a photograph from the series 'National Hero' (1991)

 

Installation view of the exhibition Boris Mikhailov: Ukrainian Diary at The Photographers’ Gallery, London showing at left, photographs from his series Luriki (1971-1985, below) and Sots Art (c. 1975-1986, below); and at right, a photograph from the series National Hero (1991, below)

 

 

“The world is made up of many worlds. Some are connected and some are not.”

From the film Perfect Days, 2023 directed by Wim Wenders

 

I love this man’s work. I feel very connected to his worlds. His constructed discontinuities. His ruptures, compressions, ambiguities. His social codifications of rich, poor, haves and have nots, and, as someone said, his portrayal of “the overlooked, the uncomfortable, and the unabashedly human.”

“Mikhailov’s visual pairings deliver unambiguous messages, almost violent in their straightforwardness. Multiple juxtapositions of unconsciously drunk men prostrating under passers-by feet to that of stray dogs, dead or alive, explicitly comment on human’s life disintegration to the state of an animal, its reduction to bare bones – and yes, an animal carcass, a metaphoric sign of abject poverty, is also present in this visual narrative in a scene with two men dragging a piece of spinal vertebrae of a large creature, a cow or, perhaps, a horse. Rotten banana peels sit across the page from infected flaccid limbs and genitalia. A posture of a naked woman reclining on a sullied mattress echoes that of a rubber sex doll staring from the next page. A close-up of a bruised woman’s breast with a crude stitches over a wound parallels gaping cracks of a damaged mail box. Thus the physical body of a homeless person starts speaking about the city as an organism, equally abused and dismembered. Wounds inflected upon flesh are surface manifestations of wounds inflected upon the city and the society at large.”1

“By subverting idealised Soviet imagery, he proposed a raw, ironic, and unremarkable version of reality, always seeking to capture the spirit of his times through the everyday. Or, better yet, to condense that spirit for others, not through words but through a visual semantics of his own making.”2

Experimental, conceptual, staged, performative, his photographs appeal to my subversive nature, prodding as they do at the status quo. His “rebellious visual language” takes us on a journey – his journey, Ukraine’s journey – “a journey through time, loss, and transformation.”

I wrote of his work in an earlier posting on this exhibition when it was at the Maison Européenne de la Photographie (MEP), Paris:

“Mikhailov’s photographs are emotionally powerful, politically astute and uncannily effective conversations with the world… about subjects that should matter to all of us: war, destitution, poverty, oppression, and the power of an authoritarian state to control the thoughts and actions of human beings under its control. They are about the freedom of individual people to live their lives as they choose; and they are about the freedom of a group of people which form a country to not be subjugated under the rule of another country to which they are historically linked.

His photographs are about choice and difference, they are about life.

They perform a task, that is, they bring into consciousness … the ground on which we stand together, against oppression, for freedom. Of course, no country is without its problems, its historical traumas, prejudices and corruption but the alternative is being ruled over without a choice, which is totally unacceptable.

Against the “failed promises of both communism and capitalism” and the “economic history that is written on the flesh” of the poor, Boris Mikhaïlov’s Ukrainian diary documents day after day the dis-ease and fragility, but also resilience, of his subjects and the world in which they live. He uses his art as a visual tool for cultural resistance. And the thing about his images is: you remember them. They are unlike so much bland, conceptual contemporary photography because these are powerful, emotional images. In their being, in their presence, they resonate within you.”

In this earlier posting you will find a longer text that I wrote, descriptions of the each of the artist’s series and more images. I hope you can view the posting.

Dr Marcus Bunyan

 

 1/ Extract from Olena Chervonik, “Urban Opera of Boris Mikhailov,” on the MOKSOP website, 9th April 2020 [Online] Cited 27/01/2026

2/ Kateryna Filyuk. “Recalcitrant Diarist of the Everyday,” on The Photographers’ Gallery website Nd [Online] Cited 05/02/2026


Many thankx to The Photographers’ Gallery, London for allowing me to publish the photographs in the posting. Please click on the photographs for a larger version of the image.

 

 

“I chose to focus on ordinary, everyday scenes and the search for formal solutions to translate this mundaneness into photography.”


Boris Mikhailov, “Everyone has became more circumspect…,” in Tea Coffee Cappuccino. Köln: König, 2011, p. 230

 

“Central themes – heroism, failure, power, the body, identity, absurdity, ideology – recur throughout, not as definitive conclusions but as open-ended provocations that invite sustained contemplation. In this way, the exhibition operates as both a temporal sequence and a constellation of moments – fragmented yet interconnected – that collectively evoke the complexity, contradictions, and richness of Mikhailov’s visionary practice.”


Laurie Hurwitz curator

 

“The explicit, dramatic and total power of the absolute monarch had given place to what Michel Foucault has called a diffuse and pervasive ‘microphysics of power’, operating unremarked in the smallest duties and gestures of everyday life. The seat of this capillary power was a new ‘technology’: that constellation of institutions – including the hospital, the asylum, the school, the prison, the police force – whose disciplinary methods and techniques of regulated examination produced, trained and positioned a hierarchy of docile social subjects in the form required by the capitalist division of labour for the orderly conduct of social and economic life.”


John Tagg. The Burden of Representation. Essays on Photographies and Histories. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1993

 

From the beginning, we conceived two video works as conceptual bookends. At the entrance, Yesterday’s Sandwich – a seminal project from the late 1960s – presents a hallucinatory sequence of double exposures set to music by Pink Floyd. These psychedelic, surreal images, rejecting Soviet visual orthodoxy, open up a new, rebellious visual language. At the exit, Temptation of Death (2019) offers a quieter, meditative counterpoint. Combining images from a crematorium in Ukraine with intimate portraits and cityscapes, it evokes the myth of Charon, ferryman of the dead, and a journey through time, loss, and transformation. Together, these two works, created nearly fifty years apart, frame the exhibition with a meditation on mortality, reinvention, and the fragile persistence of life.


Lucile Brizard. “”Where are we now?”: An Exclusive Interview with Photographer Boris Mikhailov on Ukraine’s Past and Present,” on the United 24 Media website, October 29, 2015 [Online] Cited 27/01/2026

 

 

Luriki, 1971-1985

Boris Mikhaïlov (Ukrainian, b. 1938) from the series 'Luriki' (Coloured Soviet Portrait) 1971-1985

 

Boris Mikhaïlov (Ukrainian, b. 1938)
From the series Luriki (Coloured Soviet Portrait)
1971-1985
Hand-coloured gelatin silver print
© Boris Mikhailov, VG Bild-Kunst, Bonn
Courtesy Boris and Vita Mikhailov

 

Boris Mikhaïlov (Ukrainian, b. 1938) from the series 'Luriki' (Coloured Soviet Portrait) 1971-1985

 

Boris Mikhaïlov (Ukrainian, b. 1938)
From the series Luriki (Coloured Soviet Portrait)
1971-1985
Hand-coloured gelatin silver print
© Boris Mikhailov, VG Bild-Kunst, Bonn
Courtesy Boris and Vita Mikhailov

 

Sots Art, 1975-1986

Boris Mikhaïlov (Ukrainian, b. 1938) from the series 'Sots Art' 1982-1983

 

Boris Mikhaïlov (Ukrainian, b. 1938)
From the series Sots Art
1982-1983
© Boris Mikhailov, VG Bild-Kunst, Bonn
Courtesy Boris and Vita Mikhailov

 

National Hero, 1992

Boris Mikhaïlov (Ukrainian, b. 1938) from the series 'National Hero' 1991

 

Boris Mikhaïlov (Russian, b. 1938)
From the series National Hero
1991
Chromogenic print
120 x 81cm
© Boris Mikhailov, VG Bild-Kunst, Bonn
Courtesy Boris and Vita Mikhailov

 

Installation view of the exhibition 'Boris Mikhailov: Ukrainian Diary' at The Photographers' Gallery, London showing at left, photographs from his series 'Salt Lake' (1986); at at right in the background, photographs from his series 'I am not I' (1992)

 

Installation view of the exhibition Boris Mikhailov: Ukrainian Diary at The Photographers’ Gallery, London showing at left, photographs from his series Salt Lake (1986, below); at at right in the background, photographs from his series I am not I (1992, below)

 

Salt Lake, 1986

Boris Mikhaïlov (Ukrainian, b. 1938) from the series 'Salt Lake' 1986

 

Boris Mikhaïlov (Russian, b. 1938)
From the series Salt Lake
1986
Chromogenic print toned sepia
75.5 x 104.5cm
© Boris Mikhailov, VG Bild-Kunst, Bonn
Courtesy Boris and Vita Mikhailov

 

I Am Not I, 1992

Boris Mikhaïlov (Ukrainian, b. 1938) from the series 'I am not I' 1992

 

Boris Mikhaïlov (Russian, b. 1938)
From the series I am not I
1992
Sepia silver print
30 x 20cm
© Boris Mikhailov, VG Bild-Kunst, Bonn
Courtesy Boris and Vita Mikhailov

 

 

A major retrospective of work by influential Ukrainian artist Boris Mikhailov (b. 1938, Kharkiv, Ukraine).

Ukrainian Diary is the first major UK retrospective of work by Boris Mikhailov, one of the most influential contemporary artists from Eastern Europe. Mikhailov has explored social and political subjects for more than fifty years through his experimental photographic work. 

Described as an outsider, a trickster and ‘a kind of proto-punk’, Mikhailov combines humour, mischief and tragedy in his pioneering practice, ranging from documentary photography and conceptual work, to painting and performance. Since the 1960s, he has been creating a powerful record of the tumultuous changes in Ukraine that accompanied the collapse of the Soviet Union. 

Ukrainian Diary brings together work from over twenty of his most important series, up to his more recent projects. Viewed today, against the backdrop of current events and ongoing war in Ukraine, Mikhailov’s work is all the more poignant and enlightening.

Text from The Photographers’ Gallery website

 

Red, 1965-1978

Boris Mikhaïlov (Ukrainian, b. 1938) from the series 'Red' 1968-1975

 

Boris Mikhaïlov (Russian, b. 1938)
From the series Red
1968-1975
Digital chromogenic print
© Boris Mikhailov, VG Bild-Kunst, Bonn
Courtesy Boris and Vita Mikhailov

 

 

“The word ‘red’ in Russian contains the root of the word for beauty. It also means the Revolution and evokes blood and the red flag. Everyone associates red with Communism. Maybe that’s enough. But few people know that red suffused all our lives, at all levels.”


Boris Mikhailov

 

 

Boris Mikhaïlov (Ukrainian, b. 1938) from the series 'Red' 1968-1975

 

Boris Mikhaïlov (Russian, b. 1938)
From the series Red
1968-1975
Digital chromogenic print
© Boris Mikhailov, VG Bild-Kunst, Bonn
Courtesy Boris and Vita Mikhailov

 

Boris Mikhaïlov (Ukrainian, b. 1938) from the series 'Red' 1968-1975

 

Boris Mikhaïlov (Russian, b. 1938)
From the series Red
1968-1975
Digital chromogenic print
© Boris Mikhailov, VG Bild-Kunst, Bonn
Courtesy Boris and Vita Mikhailov

 

Yesterday’s Sandwich, 1960s-1970s

Boris Mikhaïlov (Ukrainian, b. 1938) from the series 'Yesterday's Sandwich' 1960s-1970s

 

Boris Mikhaïlov (Ukrainian, b. 1938)
From the series Yesterday’s Sandwich
1960s-1970s
© Boris Mikhailov, VG Bild-Kunst, Bonn
Courtesy Boris and Vita Mikhailov

 

Boris Mikhaïlov (Ukrainian, b. 1938) from the series 'Yesterday's Sandwich' 1960s-1970s

Boris Mikhaïlov (Ukrainian, b. 1938)
From the series Yesterday’s Sandwich
1966-1968
© Boris Mikhailov, VG Bild-Kunst, Bonn
Courtesy Boris and Vita Mikhailov

 

Boris Mikhaïlov (Ukrainian, b. 1938) from the series 'Yesterday's Sandwich' 1960s-1970s

 

Boris Mikhaïlov (Ukrainian, b. 1938)
From the series Yesterday’s Sandwich
1966-1968
© Boris Mikhailov, VG Bild-Kunst, Bonn
Courtesy Boris and Vita Mikhailov

 

Boris Mikhaïlov (Ukrainian, b. 1938) from the series 'Yesterday's Sandwich' 1966-1968

 

Boris Mikhaïlov (Ukrainian, b. 1938)
From the series Yesterday’s Sandwich
1966-1968
© Boris Mikhailov, VG Bild-Kunst, Bonn
Courtesy Boris and Vita Mikhailov

 

Boris Mikhaïlov (Ukrainian, b. 1938) from the series 'Yesterday's Sandwich' 1966-1968

 

Boris Mikhaïlov (Ukrainian, b. 1938)
From the series Yesterday’s Sandwich
1960s-1970s
© Boris Mikhailov, VG Bild-Kunst, Bonn
Courtesy Boris and Vita Mikhailov

 

Boris Mikhaïlov (Ukrainian, b. 1938) from the series 'Yesterday's Sandwich' 1960s-1970s

 

Boris Mikhaïlov (Ukrainian, b. 1938)
From the series Yesterday’s Sandwich
1966-1968
© Boris Mikhailov, VG Bild-Kunst, Bonn
Courtesy Boris and Vita Mikhailov

 

 

Ukrainian Diary is the first major UK retrospective of work by Boris Mikhailov (b. 1938, Kharkiv). One of the most influential contemporary artists from Eastern Europe, Mikhailov has explored social and political subjects for more than fifty years through his experimental photographic work.

Described as an outsider, a trickster and ‘a kind of proto-punk’, Mikhailov combines humour, mischief and tragedy in his pioneering work, ranging from documentary photography and conceptual work, to painting and performance. Since the 1960s, he has been creating a powerful record of life in the Ukraine and the tumultuous changes that accompanied the collapse of the Soviet Union.

From early underground works and images of everyday life in Kharkiv, to his self-depreciating self-portraits which mock traditional Soviet masculine stereotypes, Mikhailov creates an ambiguous, fragmented view of a world in constant flux. His photographs contradict the onesideness of Soviet ideology, especially during the time when photography was heavily controlled and censored in the Soviet Union.

Ukrainian Diary brings together work from over twenty of Mikhailov’s most important series, including Yesterday’s Sandwich, I am not I, Salt Lake, Red, Sots Art, Luriki, Case History and Theatre of War.

Self-taught and ‘somewhat careless’ (in his words), Yesterday’s Sandwich (1960s-1970s), one of his most important series, began as an accident when a handful of slides stuck together. He was fascinated by the result and continued to randomly layer slides, creating new combinations which ‘reflected the dualism and contradictions of Soviet Society’.

Mikhailov created ‘bad photography’ as a way to undermine official Soviet aesthetics, as introduced in the series Black Archive (1968-1979). Badly printed, damaged or poor-quality productions were an artistic device that Mikhailov described as ‘lousy photography for a lousy reality’.

The series Red (1965-1978) bridges documentary photography and conceptual art – over 70 images taken in the late 1960s and 1970s highlighting the colour red in everyday objects and scenes. His documenting of red reveals the extent to which communist ideology saturated daily life.

Together his uncompromising, subversive work is a powerful photographic narrative on Ukraine’s contemporary history.

The exhibition is organised in collaboration with the MEP – Maison Européenne de la Photographie, Paris.

About Boris Mikhailov

Born in Kharkiv, Ukraine in 1938, Boris Mikhailov is a self-taught photographer. Having trained as an engineer, he was first introduced to photography when he was given a camera to document the state-owned factory where he worked. With access to a camera, he took advantage of this opportunity to take nude photographs of his first wife – an act forbidden under Soviet norms – which he developed and printed in the factory’s laboratory. He was fired when the photographs were found by KGB agents. From then he pursued photography full time, using it as a subversive tool and operating as part of the underground art scene. His work first gained international exposure in the 1990s with the series Case History, a shockingly direct portrayal of the realities of post-Soviet life in the Ukraine.

Press release from The Photographers’ Gallery

 

Series of Four, early 1980s

Boris Mikhaïlov (Russian, b. 1938) From the series 'Series of four' 1982-1983

 

Boris Mikhaïlov (Russian, b. 1938)
From the series Series of four
1982-1983
Silver gelatin print, unique copy
From a 20-part series
Each 18 x 23.80cm
© Boris Mikhailov, VG Bild-Kunst, Bonn
Courtesy Boris and Vita Mikhailov

 

At Dusk, 1993

Boris Mikhaïlov (Ukrainian, b. 1938) from the series 'At Dusk' 1993

 

Boris Mikhaïlov (Russian, b. 1938)
From the series At Dusk
1993
Chromogenic print
© Boris Mikhailov, VG Bild-Kunst, Bonn
Courtesy Boris and Vita Mikhailov

 

Boris Mikhaïlov (Ukrainian, b. 1938) from the series 'At Dusk' 1993

 

Boris Mikhaïlov (Russian, b. 1938)
From the series At Dusk
1993
Chromogenic print
© Boris Mikhailov, VG Bild-Kunst, Bonn
Courtesy Boris and Vita Mikhailov

 

Recalcitrant Diarist of the Everyday

Curator and researcher, Kateryna Filyuk, explores the intimate diaristic qualities of Boris Mikhailov’s subversive body of work.

Even before seeing Ukrainian Diary at The Photographers’ Gallery, I found myself thinking about its title. The idea of a diary fits naturally with Mikhailov’s work: instead of creating a grand, official narrative inherent to Soviet photography, he developed an intimate and fragmented way of seeing. The term Ukrainian, however, is less straightforward. Some of his more recent bodies of work that directly address Ukrainian events: Parliament  (2015-17); and Temptation of Death  (2014-19), which adopts the Kyiv Crematorium as its binding motif, are not included in the exhibition.

Mikhailov began challenging Soviet photographic norms as early as the mid-1960s, working with a circle of like-minded friends. At the time, photographing “for no reason” could be equated with spying; showing Soviet life as anything less than ideal was seen as an attack on communist values; and photographing the naked body could result in prison. Mikhailov did all of this and more. He turned his camera toward mundane subjects, mixed genres freely and questioned photography’s claim to present an ultimate truth. By subverting idealised Soviet imagery, he proposed a raw, ironic, and unremarkable version of reality, always seeking to capture the spirit of his times through the everyday. Or, better yet, to condense that spirit for others, not through words but through a visual semantics of his own making.  

Art historian Nadiia Bernard-Kovalchuk reflects on whether Ukrainian is an appropriate label for the Kharkiv School of Photography, of which Mikhailov is a founding figure. She writes that ”the school’s activities stretch between two heterogeneous historical realities: on the one hand, Brezhnev’s ‘stagnation’ and the perestroika fatal to the USSR, and on the other, the economically brutal birth of the Ukrainian state.” [2] This dramatic time span, during which Ukrainians experienced long-awaited yet destabilising transformation, offers a more fitting temporality for understanding Mikhailov’s work in Ukrainian Diary. Geographically, most of his projects take place in what was first Soviet Ukraine and later became independent Ukraine. Temporally, however, they exist within a landscape marked by ruptures, discontinuities, and perpetual new beginnings.

In the preface to one of his most audacious works, Case History  (1997-98), Mikhailov reflects on the lack of a photographic record documenting complex historical shifts in Ukraine: ”I was aware that I was not allowed to let it happen once again that some periods of life would be erased.” [3] After returning to Kharkiv from a year in Berlin, he was struck by the stark divide between the newly rich and the newly poor, a process already in full swing. Yet his aim in photographing the homeless did not follow the classic documentary model, such as the USA Farm Security Administration’s work, which sought to highlight a social problem and prompt state intervention. Instead, by showing the everyday lives of those most affected by the collapse, Mikhailov “directly assaults the onlookers’ sensitivity” [4] and “transgresses the acceptable limits of representation,” [5] His goal was not to provoke pity or shock though.

Rather, Mikhailov asserts something more fundamental: the individual’s right to exist and express themselves beyond convention. Through his unwavering attention to ordinary lives, he bears witness to massive transformations unfolding beyond any single person’s control. Ukrainian Diary, then, is not simply a national label or a chronological record. It is a testament to how one artist has persistently documented a world defined by instability, reinvention, and the fragile, but enduring presence, of everyday life.

Kateryna Filyuk

Kateryna Filyuk is a curator and researcher, who holds PhD from the University of Palermo. In 2017-2021 she served as a chief curator at Izolyatsia., a Platform for cultural initiatives in Kyiv. Before joining Izolyatsia, she was co-curator of the Festival of Young Ukrainian Artists at Mystetskyi Arsenal, Kyiv (2017). The co-founder of the publishing house 89books in Palermo, she has participated in curatorial programmes at Fondazione Sandretto Re Rebaudengo (Turin, 2017), De Appel (Amsterdam, 2015-16), the National Museum of Modern and Contemporary Art (Seoul, 2014) and the Gwangju Biennale (2012). In 2023 Filyuk was a visiting PhD student at the Central European University (Vienna) and in 2024 a visiting researcher at FOTOHOF Archiv (Salzburg) and the Predoctoral Fellow at the Bibliotheca Hertziana (Rome). Currently she develops a two-year scholarly initiative – the Methodology Seminars for Art History in Ukraine in collaboration with the Bibliotheca Hertziana and the Max Weber Foundation’s Research Centre Ukraine.

Footnotes

1/ Boris Mikhailov, “Everyone has became more circumspect…,” in Tea Coffee Cappuccino (Köln: König, 2011), 230.
2/ Nadiia Bernard-Kovalchuk, The Kharkiv School of Photography: Game Against Apparatus. Kharkiv: Museum of Kharkiv School of Photography, 2020, 17.
3/ Boris Mikhailov, Case History (Zurich: Scalo, 1999), 7.
4/ “Symbolic Bodies, Real Pain: Post-Soviet History, Boris Mikhailov and the Impasse of Documentary Photography,” in The Image and the Witness: Trauma, Memory and Visual Culture (London: Wallflower Press, 2007), 58.
5/ Olena Chervonik, “Urban Opera of Boris Mikhailov,” MOKSOP, accessed November 25, 2025

Text from The Photographers’ Gallery website

 

Installation view of the exhibition 'Boris Mikhailov: Ukrainian Diary' at The Photographers' Gallery, London showing photographs from his series 'Case History' (1997-1998)

 

Installation view of the exhibition Boris Mikhailov: Ukrainian Diary at The Photographers’ Gallery, London showing photographs from his series Case History (1997-1998, below)

 

Case History, 1997-1998

Boris Mikhailov (Ukrainian, b. 1938) From the series 'Case History' 1997-1998

 

Boris Mikhaïlov (Russian, b. 1938)
From the series Case History
1997-1998
Chromogenic print
© Boris Mikhailov, VG Bild-Kunst, Bonn
Courtesy Boris and Vita Mikhailov

 

Boris Mikhaïlov (Russian, b. 1938) From the series 'Case History' 1997-1998

 

Boris Mikhaïlov (Russian, b. 1938)
From the series Case History
1997-1998
Chromogenic print
© Boris Mikhailov, VG Bild-Kunst, Bonn
Courtesy Boris and Vita Mikhailov

 

Boris Mikhaïlov (Ukrainian, b. 1938) from the series 'Case History' 1997-1998

 

Boris Mikhaïlov (Russian, b. 1938)
From the series Case History
1997-1998
Chromogenic print
© Boris Mikhailov, VG Bild-Kunst, Bonn
Courtesy Boris and Vita Mikhailov

 

Urban opera of Boris Mikhailov

Olena Chervonik

In the [Case History] book preface, Mikhailov explains that already in 1997 he vividly apprehended the rupture of Ukrainian society into new, burgeoning social strata, when the new rich and the new poor began to acquire features of class identities with their own psychology and behavioural modalities. The new rich were already hard to approach, protecting themselves with bodyguards and other social fences. The new poor, however, specifically the bomzhes (homeless people with no social support) could still allow an outsider in their midst – this was “a chance”, according to Mikhailov, that could only last for a short period of time. Most of the book’s protagonists had only recently lost their homes. Their rapidly deteriorating social position was still uncertain, malleable, and flickering with hope. Yet, the transformation was inevitable, which propelled the artist to act: “For me it was very important that I took their photos when they were still like “normal” people. I made a book about the people who got into trouble but didn’t manage to harden so far.” [2] …

Mikhailov’s visual pairings deliver unambiguous messages, almost violent in their straightforwardness. Multiple juxtapositions of unconsciously drunk men prostrating under passers-by feet to that of stray dogs, dead or alive, explicitly comment on human’s life disintegration to the state of an animal, its reduction to bare bones – and yes, an animal carcass, a metaphoric sign of abject poverty, is also present in this visual narrative in a scene with two men dragging a piece of spinal vertebrae of a large creature, a cow or, perhaps, a horse. Rotten banana peels sit across the page from infected flaccid limbs and genitalia. A posture of a naked woman reclining on a sullied mattress echoes that of a rubber sex doll staring from the next page. A close-up of a bruised woman’s breast with a crude stitches over a wound parallels gaping cracks of a damaged mail box. Thus the physical body of a homeless person starts speaking about the city as an organism, equally abused and dismembered. Wounds inflected upon flesh are surface manifestations of wounds inflected upon the city and the society at large. …

The majority of Mikhailov’s photographs provide no emotional crutches to lean on, no mechanism of ennobling or aestheticising infected abused flesh of the homeless. It is presented “as is”: frontal, looming large with all its detailed naturalistic vividness. If there is a visual code that Mikhailov activates in these images, it comes from a clinical rather than an art discourse, from surveilling patents for medical records. It is a discourse that John Tagg described as a nineteenth century record-keeping practice associated with certain disciplinary institutions such as an asylum or a prison that with the help of photography created a new social body of dependent subjects upon whom power could be exercised due to their newly-minted subaltern position.

Art, following Barthes’ dictum, domesticates and tames photography [21]. It generates the level of “studium”, accepted cultural knowledge that veils the trauma, renders it familiar, therefore trivial, therefore easily dismissed. Mikhailov makes his viewers constantly oscillate between images that give themselves for contemplation and images that confront with their clinical nature that can be scrutinised and observed but certainly not contemplated. Not one or the other type of image, but the switch between the two unsettles the viewing process. Mikhailov orchestrates poses and gestures of his subjects to create this visual roller-coster of plunging in and out of the aesthetic.

2/ Boris Mikhailov, Case History (Zurich: Scalo, 1985)
21/ Matthias Christen, “Symbolic Bodies, Real Pain: Post-Soviet History, Boris Mikhailov and the Impasse of Documentary Photography,” in The Image and the Witness. Trauma, Memory and Visual Culture (London: Wallflower Press, 2007), 52-66

Extract from Olena Chervonik, “Urban Opera of Boris Mikhailov,” on the MOKSOP website, 9th April 2020 [Online] Cited 27/01/2026. Used under fair use conditions for the purposes of education and research

 

Dance, 1978

Boris Mikhaïlov (Ukrainian, b. 1938) from the series 'Dance' 1978

 

Boris Mikhaïlov (Ukrainian, b. 1938)
From the series Dance
1978
Chromogenic print
© Boris Mikhailov, VG Bild-Kunst, Bonn
Courtesy Boris and Vita Mikhailov

 

The Theater of War, Second Act, Time Out, 2013

Boris Mikhaïlov (Russian, b. 1938) From the series 'The Theater of War, Second Act, Time Out' 2013

 

Boris Mikhaïlov (Russian, b. 1938)
From the series The Theater of War, Second Act, Time Out
2013
Chromogenic print
© Boris Mikhailov, VG Bild-Kunst, Bonn. Collection Akademie der Künste, Berlin

 

 

The Photographers’ Gallery
16-18 Ramillies Street
London
W1F 7LW

Opening hours:
Mon – Wed: 10.00 – 18.00
Thursday – Friday: 10.00 – 20.00
Saturday: 10.00 – 18.00
Sunday: 11.00 – 18.00

The Photographers’ Gallery website

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Exhibition: ‘Strike a Pose! 100 Years of the Photobooth’ at The Photographers’ Gallery, London

Exhibition dates: 10th October, 2025 – 22nd February, 2026

Curator: Taous Dahmani, art historian and writer. The exhibition was developed in collaboration with Autofoto (Rafael Hortala Vallve and Corinne Quin) and features archival material from Raynal Pellicer

 

'Untitled [Women Photobooth Portraits]' c. 1940s-1950s from the exhibition 'Strike a Pose! 100 Years of the Photobooth' at The Photographers' Gallery, London, October 2025 - February 2026

 

Untitled [Women Photobooth Portraits]
c. 1940s-1950s

 

 

This “small archival display celebrating 100 years of the much-loved photobooth” (which occurred in 2025) – no installation photographs available – seems not a patch on one of the best photography exhibitions on Art Blart in 2025: Auto-Photo: A Life in Portraits at RMIT Gallery, Melbourne, June – August 2025 which introduced us to “Alan Adler (2932-2024), who while little known, was the oldest and longest serving photobooth technician in the world… For over 50 years, Adler maintained a fleet of photobooths across Melbourne / Narrm, most notably the site at Flinders Street Station.”

There are still some delightful, happy, joyful snapshots in this posting however.

Pay the money, cross the threshold of the booth, draw the curtain, adjust the seat, comport yourself into whatever “pose” you choose, then perform for each flash of the Time Machine.

Captured in a space of privacy and experimentation these portraits of the self (your essential being at that moment in time), eventually, minutes later, reveal you to yourself.

Some conforming, some rebelling, some crossing the taboo of self-revealing.

Dr Marcus Bunyan


Many thankx to The Photographers’ Gallery for allowing me to publish the photographs in the posting. Please click on the photographs for a larger version of the image.

 

 

“Practical at first – cheap, quick and accessible identity photos – the booth quickly became something else: a private stage. Behind the curtain, anyone could perform beyond the gaze of a photographer. Sitters experimented alone or packed in with friends, kissing, laughing, trying on disguises or staring back with deadpan seriousness. The Photomaton promised autonomy: pull the curtain, face the lens, decide how to appear. Some likened the ritual to a slot machine: drop a coin, wait for the surprise. Josepho’s invention, in hindsight, feels like the ancestor of the selfie: it put image-making directly into the hands of its subjects, a century before smartphones did the same. …

In our digital world, we’re used to photographs that are instant, endless and easily stored or deleted. By contrast, the analogue photobooth resists perfection. Control is never total: the flashes are blinding, the stool wobbles, the timing is merciless. Each strip bears the marks of chance – a blink, a smirk, a blur, a half-formed gesture. That unpredictability is its charm, giving the images a peculiar energy that no app filter can replicate.

Their resurgence taps into the wider appetite or the tactile and the ‘vintage’: objects that feel authentic precisely because they escape the seamlessness of the digital. The photobooth doesn’t have a photographer mediating or directing the sitter. It’s a space of agency and play, where friends cram together or someone experiments alone, producing an image that can be private or shared, that can be spontaneous or completely staged.

In contemporary culture, where self-presentation is curated and optimised online, the photobooth is a refreshing counterpoint. The strips are imperfect, uneditable and physical – small paper relics that capture a moment in time with all its messiness intact. That’s why they resonate now: they remind us that identity is not just polished images, but also the accidents, surprises and fleeting gestures that make us human.”


Taous Dahmani, curator, quoted in Ellis Tree. “The cooler, elder sibling of the selfie turns 100: Celebrating the centenary of the photobooth,” on the It’s Nice That website 10 October 2025 [Online] Cited 27/01/2026

 

 

Installation view of the AUTOFOTO photobooth at the exhibition 'Strike a Pose! 100 Years of the Photobooth' at The Photographers' Gallery, London

 

Installation view of the AUTOFOTO photobooth at the exhibition Strike a Pose! 100 Years of the Photobooth at The Photographers’ Gallery, London

 

Anonymous photographer. 'Portrait of Anatol Josepho in his Photomaton' United States of America, 1927 from the exhibition 'Strike a Pose! 100 Years of the Photobooth' at The Photographers' Gallery, London, October 2025 - February 2026

 

Anonymous photographer
Portrait of Anatol Josepho in his Photomaton
United States of America, 1927
Courtesy Raynal Pellicer

 

'French Photomaton Advertising "6 photos in 8 minutes. Identity"' 1927

 

French Photomaton Advertising “6 photos in 8 minutes. Identity”
1927
Courtesy Raynal Pellicer

 

'8 Poses Strip' USA, 1927

 

8 Poses Strip
USA, 1927
Courtesy Raynal Pellicer

 

'8 Poses Strip' USA, 1927 (detail)
'8 Poses Strip' USA, 1927 (detail)

 

8 Poses Strip (details)
USA, 1927
Courtesy Raynal Pellicer

 

"Always thinking of you", United States of America, 1930s

 

“Always thinking of you”
United States of America, 1930s
Courtesy Raynal Pellicer

  

 

A special, small archival display celebrating 100 years of the much-loved photobooth.

2025 marks 100 years since the invention of the photobooth in New York. A game-changer for the world of photography, photobooths became an everyday sight in cities around the world.

In the 1950s and 1960s, photobooths were a common feature at fairs, shopping centres and train stations. With no technical knowledge needed and no operator, anyone could step behind the curtain, alone or crammed in with friends, put their money in the slot and strike a pose. The booths were loved by everyone, from John Lennon and Yoko Ono, to John and Jacqueline Kennedy, and used by artist Andy Warhol for his famous series of self-portraits. 

These popular coin-operated booths began to disappear with the rise of digital photography in the 1990s. Now, restored by dedicated experts, analogue booths are reappearing in cities across the world and enjoying a resurgence of interest and delight with modern-day fans.

This autumn we’re celebrating the centenary by telling the story of the much-loved photobooth. Through a small archival display, Strike a Pose! 100 Years of the Photobooth will explore the history, imperfections and quirks of the booth. There’s also a 1960s analogue booth at the Gallery for everyone to create their own selfie souvenir and a live feed to see the unique mechanics of the booth in action.

Strike a Pose! 100 Years of the Photobooth features work from the collection of Raynal Pellicer and is part of a year-long programme of centenary celebrations, in partnership with AUTOFOTO.

Text from The Photographers’ Gallery website

  

'Photomaton Envelope' 1940s

  

Photomaton Envelope
1940s
Courtesy Raynal Pellicer

  

'Photomaton Pochette' France, c. 1930s-1950s

  

Photomaton Pochette
France, c. 1930s-1950s
Courtesy Raynal Pellicer

  

'Couple' c. 1930s-1950s

 

Couple
c. 1930s-1950s
Courtesy Raynal Pellicer

 

'Couples' c. 1930s-1950s

  

Couples
c. 1930s-1950s
Courtesy Raynal Pellicer

 

'Couples' c. 1930s-1950s (detail)
'Couples' c. 1930s-1950s (detail)
'Couples' c. 1930s-1950s (detail)
'Couples' c. 1930s-1950s (detail)

 

Couples (details)
c. 1930s-1950s
Courtesy Raynal Pellicer

 

 

This autumn The Photographers’ Gallery celebrates 100 years of the much-loved photobooth.

Through a special archival display, Strike a Pose! 100 Years of the Photobooth looks back on the history of the photobooth and explores its intimate charms, imperfections and quirks.

2025 marks the year-long celebration of the 100th anniversary of the invention of the analogue photobooth by Anatol Josepho. His first Photomaton appeared on Broadway in New York in 1925. The photobooth was a game-changer for the world of photography and quickly became an everyday sight in cities around the world.

A combined studio and photography lab in one place, booths offered the first affordable access to photography. With no technical knowledge needed and no operator, anyone could step behind the curtain, put their money in the slot and strike a pose.

After the success of the first booth, when over 7,500 New Yorkers used the booth in its first 5 days, global success quickly followed. The first photobooth launched in the UK in Selfridges, London, in 1928 and was an immediate hit.

In the 1950s and 1960s, photobooths were a common feature at fairs, shopping centres and train stations. These intimate inexpensive spaces gave everyone the freedom to control their own images. Behind the curtain, whether alone or crammed in with friends, the photobooth was a playground, beyond the gaze of a photographer. The booths were loved by everyone, from John Lennon and Yoko Ono, to John and Jacqueline Kennedy, and used by artist Andy Warhol for his famous series of self-portraits.

The coin-operated booths, once ever-present on high streets and stations, disappeared with the rise of digital photography in the 1990s. Now, restored by dedicated experts, analogue booths are reappearing in cities across the world and enjoying a resurgence of interest and delight with modern-day fans. Alongside the display of archive prints, vintage strips and materials, there’ll also be a booth at the Gallery for everyone to create their own selfie souvenir and a live feed to see the unique mechanics of the booth in action.

Strike a Pose! 100 Years of the Photobooth features work from the collection of Raynal Pellicer and is part of a year-long programme of centenary celebrations, in partnership with AUTOFOTO.

AUTOFOTO are analogue photobooth experts who have been rescuing and restoring original auto-photography machines for over a decade. Their restored machines can be found in locations across London and Barcelona. Through careful restoration and servicing, AUTOFOTO’s mission is to ensure the survival of these beautiful machines and photobooth photography for future generations.

Press release from The Photographers’ Gallery, London

 

'Untitled [Color Photobooth Portraits]' c. 1940s-1950s

 

Untitled [Color Photobooth Portraits]
c. 1940s-1950s
Courtesy Raynal Pellicer

 

'Untitled [Color Photobooth Portraits]' c. 1940s-1950s (detail)
'Untitled [Color Photobooth Portraits]' c. 1940s-1950s (detail)

 

Untitled [Color Photobooth Portraits] (details)
c. 1940s-1950s
Courtesy Raynal Pellicer

 

'Strip' United States of America, 1950s

 

Strip
United States of America, 1950s
Courtesy Raynal Pellicer

 

'"Couple", Photomaton' Blackpool, England, 1950s

 

“Couple”, Photomaton
Blackpool, England, 1950s
Courtesy Raynal Pellicer

 

'"French Couple", Six Strips' France, 1960s

 

“French Couple”, Six Strips
France, 1960s
Courtesy Raynal Pellicer

 

 

The Photographers’ Gallery
16-18 Ramillies Street
London
W1F 7LW

Opening hours:
Mon – Wed: 10.00 – 18.00
Thursday – Friday: 10.00 – 20.00
Saturday: 10.00 – 18.00
Sunday: 11.00 – 18.00

The Photographers’ Gallery website

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Exhibition: ‘Gabrielle Hébert: Amour fou à la Villa Médicis’ at the Musée d’Orsay, Paris

Exhibition dates: 28th October, 2025 – 15th February, 2026

Curator: Marie Robert, Chief Curator, photography and cinema Musée d’Orsay

 

Gabrielle Hébert (French born Germany, 1853-1934) 'Peppino Scossa endormi dans les bras de sa mère, 11 août 1888' (Peppino Scossa asleep in his mother's arms, August 11, 1888) 1888 from the exhibition 'Gabrielle Hébert: Amour fou à la Villa Médicis' at the Musée d'Orsay, Paris, October 2025 -  February 2026

 

Gabrielle Hébert (French born Germany, 1853-1934)
Peppino Scossa endormi dans les bras de sa mère, 11 août 1888
(Peppino Scossa asleep in his mother’s arms, August 11, 1888)

1888
Aristotype à la gélatine (Gelatin Aristotype)
8.7 x 11.7cm
© Musée National Ernest Hébert, Paris
Photo: Musée d’Orsay, Dist. RMN-Grand Palais / Alexis Brandt

 

 

Amour fou, amour tu

This is one of those unheralded exhibitions on a photographer that you may never have heard of that Art Blart likes to promote.

Gabrielle Hébert as she became, married the painter Ernest Hébert in 1880. She was 28, he was 63. From 1888 until his death in 1908 at the age of 91, she documented her husband painting, their surroundings and their affluent, upper class social milieux. And then she stopped, she gave up photography, she lost the amour fou, that incredible passion that had driven her for so many years to take photographs.

While “her photographs provide an intimate look into the artistic life of the time, portraying artists, models, and domestic scenes” they also do something more – they represent the viewpoint of a female artist which challenges the masculine conventions of the day. “Overturning gender stereotypes, she watched him obsessively and was never tired of capturing him on film… Thanks to her images, which she shared and exchanged with her friends and family, she became recognised as an auteur and gained social status in a milieu where artistic creation was the preserve of men.” (Text from the Musée d’Orsay website)

Further, from my point of view, Gabrielle Hébert was not an amateur photographer taking snapshots for her “visual diary” but an artist fully conversant with current trends in photography. While there are the standard documentary photographs of sculptures and Ernest Hébert and friends painting … there is so much more!

Photographs such as the allegorical Peppino Scossa endormi dans les bras de sa mère, 11 août 1888 (Peppino Scossa asleep in his mother’s arms, August 11, 1888) (1888, above) and La duchesse de Mondragone et l’une de ses bellessoeurs posent pour une Annonciation, juin 1890 (The Duchess of Mondragone and one of her sisters-in-law pose for an Annunciation, June 1890) (1890, below) are redolent of the photographer Julia Margaret Cameron (British born India, 1815-1879).

Other photographs such as Lys des parterres, juin 1890 (Flowerbed lilies, June 1890) (1890, below) evidence her consummate skill at capturing the perfume of a place whilst images such as Procession sur le port de Brindisi (Pouilles) (Procession in the port of Brindisi (Apulia)) (1893, below) show her ability to picture the informality of large groups of people and the atmosphere of the scene.

Then there are the joyous highs of a modern woman looking at the world with perceptive eyes. In the photograph Amalia Scossa et Ernest Hébert à sa peinture La Vierge au chardonneret sur la terrasse du campanile (around 1891, below), Gabrielle Hébert was not afraid to dissect the pictorial plane with strong verticals, horizontal and diagonal lines, providing the viewer with the feeling of an almost voyeuristic in-sight into the creative scene, each section of the photograph holding out attention – two chairs, one upturned on the other, supporting the umbrella shielding the painter from the sun; the Virgin and her child filling the distant space; the painting on the easel leading our eye down and then back up into the cloaked, wizened figure of the artist holding his easel; folding stool for him to rest and other accoutrements earthing the foreground; and the massive pillars slightly askew enclosing our furtive view. Magnificent!

My favourite photograph in the posting is Garçon au coin de la place Zocodover, Tolède, 31 octobre 1898 (Boy on the corner of Zocodover Square, Toledo, October 31, 1898) (1898, below), taken when Hébert had abandoned her large format camera for a more portable Kodak. A wonderful use of depth of field, movement, vanishing point, light, architecture and the ghostly presence of a boy, forever peering at us through eons of time, lend the image an enigmatic, allegorical mystery … as to the passage of time, the journey of life.

How I wish we could have seen more of these later photographs where Hébert proposed “daring viewpoints – notably from a speeding train – a camera in motion, glances towards the camera, the operator’s shadow cast on the ground, motion blur of people and things (smoke, clouds, and waves), truncated figures, and close-ups.” (Marie Robert)

And then there is the crux of the matter. As the text on the Musée d’Orsay website insightfully observes, “… above all, photography revealed her to herself: through capturing a particularly remarkable geography and era, she effectively invented her own mythology.”

Through love and life, through devotion to husband, through devotion to photography, and through devotion to herself, she revealed her to herself and to the world. What crazy, mad love!

Dr Marcus Bunyan

PS. With photographs like Femmes à la fenêtre, Taormine (Sicile), mai 1893 (Women at the window, Taormina (Sicily), May 1893) (1893, below) it is likely Gabrielle Hébert would have met Baron Wilhelm von Gloeden (German, 1856-1931) who lived and worked there between 1878-1931.


Many thankx to the Musée d’Orsay, Paris for allowing me to publish the photographs in the posting. Please click on the photographs for a larger version of the image.

 

 

Active between 1888 and 1908, Gabrielle documented daily life at Villa Medici in Rome, where her husband served as director of the French Academy. Her photographs provide an intimate look into the artistic life of the time, portraying artists, models, and domestic scenes.​ The exhibition features original prints, albums, diaries, glass plate negatives, and her cameras, alongside works by Ernest Hébert and personal items that tell their love story. With over 3.500 prints, Gabrielle Hébert is considered a pioneer of female photography, having sensitively and precisely documented an artistic environment predominantly male.​


Veronica Azzari on the Bvlgari Hotel Paris website

 

When Gabriele von Uckermann and a friend discovered Ernest Hébert’s painting, La Mal’aria [below], at the Munich International Exhibition of Fine Arts in 1869, the two young women sent a telegram to the artist expressing their admiration. A few months later, the painter agreed to receive Gabriele in his Parisian studio, and their marriage in 1880 sealed their whirlwind romance. He was 63, she was 28. Five years later, Ernest Hébert’s reappointment as director of the French Academy in Rome allowed the young woman to have her own studio. Gabrielle Hébert, who had Gallicized her first name, dates her photographic debut to July 8, 1888. From that day forward, she never stopped photographing her husband. She also dedicated herself to visually documenting their stay at the Villa Medici, as well as their travels in Italy, Sicily, and Spain. …

The exhibition’s subtitle, “Mad Love at the Villa Medici,” while certainly catchy, is somewhat misleading, as the section strictly devoted to photographs related to her stay at the French Academy in Rome represents only a third of the exhibition. However, each period of this prolific output is contextualised using a variety of documents: diary entries, correspondence, camera footage, albums, contact sheets, and more.


Christine Coste. “Gabrielle Hébert, un itinéraire photographique singulier,” on the Le Journal des Arts website, 17th December, 2025 [Online] Cited 02/01/2026. Translated from the French by Google Translate. Used under fair use conditions for the purposes of education and research

 

 

Ernest Hébert (French, 1817-1908) 'The Mal'aria' 1848-1849

 

Ernest Hébert (French, 1817-1908)
The Mal’aria
1848-1849
Oil on canvas
1930 x 1350cm
Musée d’Orsay, dist. RMN / Patrice Schmidt
Bought 1851

Used under fair use conditions for the purposes of education and research

 

Alexis Axilette (French, 1860-1931) 'Ernest et Gabrielle Hébert et leurs chiens sur la terrasse du bosco' (Ernest and Gabrielle Hébert and their dogs on the terrace of the bosco) Around 1888 from the exhibition 'Gabrielle Hébert: Amour fou à la Villa Médicis' at the Musée d'Orsay, Paris, October 2025 -  February 2026

 

Alexis Axilette (French, 1860-1931)
Ernest et Gabrielle Hébert et leurs chiens sur la terrasse du bosco
(Ernest and Gabrielle Hébert and their dogs on the terrace of the bosco)

Around 1888
Aristotype à la gélatine (Gelatin Aristotype)
8.7 x 12.2cm
© Musée National Ernest Hébert, Paris
Photo: Musée d’Orsay, Dist. RMN-Grand Palais / Alexis Brandt

 

Gabrielle Hébert (French born Germany, 1853-1934) 'Ernest Hébert aquarelle l'arc du balcon de la Casa Poscia, Viterbe, août 1888' (Ernest Hébert watercolour the arch of the balcony of the Casa Poscia, Viterbo, August 1888) 1888

 

Gabrielle Hébert (French born Germany, 1853-1934)
Ernest Hébert aquarelle l’arc du balcon de la Casa Poscia, Viterbe, août 1888
(Ernest Hébert watercolour the arch of the balcony of the Casa Poscia, Viterbo, August 1888)

1888
Aristotype à la gélatine (Gelatin Aristotype)
9 x 12cm environ
© Musée National Ernest Hébert, Paris
Photo: Musée d’Orsay, Dist. RMN-Grand Palais / Alexis Brandt

 

Gabrielle Hébert (French born Germany, 1853-1934) 'Le peintre pensionnaire Alexis Axilette et son modèle Elvira dans le Bosco de la Villa Médicis, Octobre 1888' (Resident painter Alexis Axilette and his model Elvira in the Bosco of the Villa Medici, October 1888) 1888

 

Gabrielle Hébert (French born Germany, 1853-1934)
Le peintre pensionnaire Alexis Axilette et son modèle Elvira dans le Bosco de la Villa Médicis, Octobre 1888
(Resident painter Alexis Axilette and his model Elvira in the Bosco of the Villa Medici, October 1888)

1888
Négatif au gélatino-bromure d’argent sur plaque de verre (Silver gelatin bromide negative on glass plate)
9 x 12cm
© La Tronche, musée Hébert
Photo: Musée Hébert, Département de l’Isère

 

The photograph above shows a nude woman posing for the artist Alexis Axilette for his painting Summertime (c. 1891, below)

 

Alexis Axilette (French, 1860-1931) 'Summertime' c. 1891

 

Alexis Axilette (French, 1860-1931)
Summertime
c. 1891

Only a black and white reproduction is available of this work

 

At the Salon exhibition of 1891, a picture which attracted a marked amount of attention was a vividly painted midsummer landscape, with the figures of three wood-nymphs, basking in the flood of golden sunshine. It was entitled “Summertime.” The painter was A. Axilette, a Parisian artist whose studio was already well known to collectors. The success of “Summertime” in Europe was enormous. It was successively exhibited at various continental exhibitions, and everywhere repeated the hit it had made in France. It was, in fact, one of those works of which it is said that they “make” their authors, and in the sense that it completely established the painter’s reputation, “Summertime” realised this figure of speech.

Mary S. Van Deusen. “Alexis Axilette,” on the Master Paintings of the World website 2007 [Online] Cited 02/01/2026. Used under fair use conditions for the purposes of education and research

 

Alexis Axilette (French, 1860-1931)

Alexis Axilette was born in 1860 in Durtal, a small town in Maine-et-Loire. From a modest background – his father was a merchant – his future seemed predetermined, far removed from the world of art. His parents, who dreamed of a career as a notary’s clerk for him, were nonetheless surprised to discover his talent for drawing. After encouraging him to prove his abilities, they supported his choice to become an artist, a vocation he embraced with passion and determination. This ambition led him to become one of the most remarkable painters of his time.

A Promising Start

At the age of 16, Alexis Axilette began working as an apprentice in a photography studio, retouching photographs by hand, a modern activity for the time. At the same time, he attended evening classes at the Angers Municipal School of Fine Arts, where he distinguished himself with his talent and won several prizes. Supported by his teachers, he obtained a scholarship to attend the École des Beaux-Arts in Paris. Between 1878 and 1880, he learned Neoclassical principles there under the influence of the renowned painter Jean-Léon Gérôme, teachings that would profoundly shape his artistic approach.

The Rise to Recognition

At 24, Alexis Axilette reached a major turning point in his career by winning the prestigious Premier Grand Prix de Rome with his painting Themistocles Taking Refuge with Admetus (1885), a masterfully executed historical scene. This success, achieved at such a young age only by Fragonard, propelled his career, marked by gold medals, honorary distinctions, and the Legion of Honor. From that moment on, he became a central figure in the artistic and literary life of the Third Republic, frequenting high society and financial circles. An accomplished artist, he traveled throughout Europe and forged an international reputation, becoming a sought-after portraitist with prestigious commissions, notably from the Imperial Court of Russia.

In 1898, he received a major state commission: the creation of a monumental triptych for the ceiling of the Social Museum, entitled Humanity, Fatherland, and Muse. This work, both moral and balanced, perfectly embodies the republican ideals of the time.

Historical and Artistic Context

Under the Third Republic, the arts were seen as a privileged means of promoting national cohesion. Axilette’s academic style, rooted in moral and patriotic values, perfectly aligned with this objective. However, the late 19th and early 20th centuries saw the emergence of new artistic movements such as Impressionism, Symbolism, and Expressionism. Axilette’s attachment to classicism and a rigorous aesthetic set him apart from the avant-garde movements that favored experimentation and creative freedom. Thus, although he perfectly embodied his era, his art gradually came to be perceived as outdated and obsolete.

A Transition to Pastels

In the 1910s, as artistic tastes evolved, Alexis Axilette turned to the use of pastels. This more subtle and delicate medium allowed him to explore a new sensibility while remaining true to his academic style. His works from this period, primarily portraits and landscapes, testify to his desire to renew his approach while remaining rooted in classical tradition. These pastels reveal an undiminished technical mastery and a willingness to adapt to new artistic trends, although his style seems to have been less appreciated at this time.

Posthumous Oblivion

Like many academic artists, Alexis Axilette suffered from the evolution of tastes in the 20th century. Classical art, once revered, lost ground to the avant-garde, relegating its works to museum storage. Furthermore, his image as a society artist, associated with the establishment of the Third Republic, did not help his legacy. While artists like Gauguin symbolized rebellion and innovation, Axilette remains perceived as a representative of a bygone academicism.

A body of work to be rediscovered

Alexis Axilette died on July 3, 1931, in Durtal, his birthplace. Today, his legacy lives on through his works held in private and public collections: academic drawings, nude sketches, portrait studies, landscapes, and historical paintings. These paintings bear witness to his exceptional talent and his dedication to his art. Although he was a major figure of his time, he remains relatively unknown today. He embodies the fate of many artists: celebrated in their lifetime, but gradually forgotten by history.

Anonymous. “Alexis Axilette,” on the French Wikipedia website, translated by Google Translate

 

Gabrielle Hébert (French born Germany, 1853-1934) 'Le temps est sublime. Je photographie Lily et Farfalette, mon buste, Puech, Charpentier et Gardet, 20 novembre 1888' (The weather is sublime. I photograph Lily and Farfalette, my bust, Puech, Charpentier and Gardet, November 20, 1888) 1888

 

Gabrielle Hébert (French born Germany, 1853-1934)
Le temps est sublime. Je photographie Lily et Farfalette, mon buste, Puech, Charpentier et Gardet, 20 novembre 1888
(The weather is sublime. I photograph Lily and Farfalette, my bust, Puech, Charpentier and Gardet, November 20, 1888)

1888
Aristotype à la gélatine, papier (Gelatin Aristotype, paper)
11 x 8cm
© Musée National Ernest Hébert, Paris
Photo: Musée d’Orsay, Dist. RMN-Grand Palais / Alexis Brandt

 

 

Designed in partnership with the Musée Départemental Ernest Hébert in La Tronche (Isère), where it will be hosted in spring 2026, the exhibition will also be presented at the French Academy in Rome – Villa Medici in autumn 2026, where the exhibition’s curator Marie Robert spent a year in the context of a Villa Medici/ Musée d’Orsay cross-residency.

The exhibition Who’s Afraid of Women Photographers? (1839-1945) presented at the Musée d’Orsay and the Musée de l’Orangerie in 2015 was a milestone for recognition of women artists in France. One of the many photographers featured was Gabrielle Hébert (1853, Dresden, Germany – 1934, La Tronche, France). Born Gabrielle von Uckermann, she was an amateur painter before marrying Ernest Hébert in 1880, an academic artist twice appointed Director of the French Academy in Rome. She went on to develop an intensive, extremely prolific photography practice, begun at Villa Medici in 1888 and ending twenty years later in La Tronche (near Grenoble) following the death of the man she had idolised, her elder by almost forty years, and whose place in history she largely ensured by supporting the creation of two monographic museums.

In the late 19th century, between France and Italy, like many artists and writers (including Henri Rivière, Pierre Bonnard, Maurice Denis and Émile Zola) who equipped themselves with a camera to record their and their families’ daily lives, Gabrielle Hébert pursued a private, sentimental photography practice, helped along by the technical and aesthetic revolution brought about by the invention of snapshot photography. At Villa Medici, as the wife of its director, she organised receptions and received elite visitors. She was not long in escaping her assigned duties, however, and acquired a camera. She took a few lessons with a Roman professional and, along with a resident of her own age, set up a darkroom to develop and print her negatives and retouch the results. It was the beginning of an extremely voluminous output of photos, which she consigned to her diaries. Hardly a day passed without her taking a snapshot, interspersing them with remarks that tell us how she set about taking pictures: “Je photo…. Je photographie…”.

Although Gabrielle Hébert shared her taste for society portraits and tableaux vivants with Luigi and Giuseppe Primoli, Princess Mathilde Bonaparte’s nephews and pioneers of snapshot photography in Italy, she explored all photographic genres on her own at Villa Medici, including nudes, reproductions of artworks, landscapes, still lifes and “photographic recreations” … Providing us with the viewpoint of a permanent resident who is dazzled by the palace, the site and its inhabitants (artists in residence, employees, models, dogs and cats) as seen from the inside and in all seasons, her output reveals a completely unknown aspect of life in that artistic phalanstery. Her “diary in images” is the first photo-report on daily life in the institution, a centre for residencies, training and creation by winners of the Grand Prix de Rome (many of whose works are now conserved by the Musée d’Orsay) as well as a laboratory for the new political relationship between France and Italy, which had just been “unified” (1861) and of which Rome became the capital in 1871. It also constitutes a unique testimony on one of the first couples of creators at Villa Medici. Although Gabrielle assisted Ernest with his activities as an artist, posing for him, preparing his canvases, retouching his paintings and even copying them, it was Ernest himself who was the photographer’s real focus. Overturning gender stereotypes, she watched him obsessively and was never tired of capturing him on film. Posing sessions with sitters, progress made in his paintings, moments of conviviality with visitors and interactions with residents, along with walks in the Roman countryside, bathing in the sea and alone in his office: all these aspects of artist, director and husband Ernest Hébert’s life were scrutinised and documented. When she returned permanently to France with him, Gabrielle stopped cultivating her passion for photography, a passion born in Italy and in exile, but nevertheless continued to photograph Hébert until the very end of his life, determined to immortalise him through images. Before that, though, in 1898, she escaped the closed quarters formed by the Renaissance Palace and its eccentric occupants and performed her photographic swansong during a trip to Spain, which she photographed with a resolutely modern eye influenced by the early days of cinema.

This chrono-thematic exhibition, from Gabrielle Hébert’s photographic beginnings (1888) to her last images (1908), will seek to present what she made of photography and what photography made of her. Thanks to her images, which she shared and exchanged with her friends and family, she became recognised as an auteur and gained social status in a milieu where artistic creation was the preserve of men. But above all, photography revealed her to herself: through capturing a particularly remarkable geography and era, she effectively invented her own mythology. By doing so, she was Villa Medici’s first photographic chronicler and made a place for herself in the medium’s history.

Most of the works on exhibition are original prints (in 9 x 12 cm format), along with photograph albums created by Gabrielle Hébert, her diaries, boxes of glass plates and cameras she used. Enlargements created from negatives she never printed will add further life to the presentation. The itinerary will be rounded out by drawings and paintings by Ernest Hébert, as well as sentimental relics (palette, medallion and letters), testimony to a story of love for a man and a country.

Text from the Musée d’Orsay website

 

Gabrielle Hébert (French born Germany, 1853-1934) 'L'architecte Hector d'Espouy devant son Projet de plafond pour la décoration de la Villa Médicis' (The architect Hector d'Espouy in front of his ceiling design for the decoration of the Villa Medici) 1889

 

Gabrielle Hébert (French born Germany, 1853-1934)
L’architecte Hector d’Espouy devant son Projet de plafond pour la décoration de la Villa Médicis
(The architect Hector d’Espouy in front of his ceiling design for the decoration of the Villa Medici)

1889
Aristotype à la gélatine (Gelatin Aristotype)
8 x 10.5cm
© Musée National Ernest Hébert, Paris
Photo: Musée d’Orsay, Dist. RMN-Grand Palais / Alexis Brandt

 

Gabrielle Hébert (French born Germany, 1853-1934) 'Esquisse de La Sirène de Denys Puech dans son atelier (envoi règlementaire de quatrième année)' (Sketch of The Mermaid by Denys Puech in his studio (required submission for fourth year)) 1889

 

Gabrielle Hébert (French born Germany, 1853-1934)
Esquisse de La Sirène de Denys Puech dans son atelier (envoi règlementaire de quatrième année)
(Sketch of The Mermaid by Denys Puech in his studio (required submission for fourth year))

1889
Aristotype à la gélatine, papier
11.5 x 5.8cm
© Musée National Ernest Hébert, Paris
Photo: Musée d’Orsay, Dist. RMN-Grand Palais / Alexis Brandt

 

Gabrielle Hébert (French born Germany, 1853-1934) 'Le jeune modèle Peppino sur l'un des lions de la loggia, 18 juin 1890' (The young model Peppino on one of the lions of the loggia, June 18, 1890) 1890

 

Gabrielle Hébert (French born Germany, 1853-1934)
Le jeune modèle Peppino sur l’un des lions de la loggia, 18 juin 1890
(The young model Peppino on one of the lions of the loggia, June 18, 1890)

1890
Aristotype à la gélatine, papier (Gelatin Aristotype, paper)
© Musée National Ernest Hébert, Paris
Photo: Musée d’Orsay, Dist. RMN-Grand Palais / Alexis Brandt

 

Gabrielle Hébert (French born Germany, 1853-1934) 'La duchesse de Mondragone et l'une de ses bellessoeurs posent pour une Annonciation, juin 1890' (The Duchess of Mondragone and one of her sisters-in-law pose for an Annunciation, June 1890) 1890

 

Gabrielle Hébert (French born Germany, 1853-1934)
La duchesse de Mondragone et l’une de ses bellessoeurs posent pour une Annonciation, juin 1890
(The Duchess of Mondragone and one of her sisters-in-law pose for an Annunciation, June 1890)

1890
Négatif au gélatino-bromure d’argent sur plaque de verre (Silver gelatin bromide negative on glass plate)
8.4 x 11.6cm
© Musée National Ernest Hébert, Paris
Photo: Musée d’Orsay, Dist. RMN-Grand Palais / Alexis Brandt

 

Gabrielle Hébert (French born Germany, 1853-1934) 'Modèles ciociare sur les marches de la loggia' (Ciociare models on the steps of the loggia) Around 1890

 

Gabrielle Hébert (French born Germany, 1853-1934)
Modèles ciociare sur les marches de la loggia (Ciociare models on the steps of the loggia)
Around 1890
Aristotype à la gélatine, contrecollé sur carton (Gelatin Aristotype, mounted on cardboard)
8.3 x 11.3cm
© Musée National Ernest Hébert, Paris
Photo: Musée d’Orsay, Dist. RMN-Grand Palais / Alexis Brandt

 

“Ciociaria” refers to a historic, rustic region southeast of Rome in Italy, and “ciociara” (singular) or “ciociare” (plural/feminine) describes people, especially women, from that area, known for their traditional leather sandals (ciocie), embodying a simple, rural Italian identity, famously portrayed in the film La Ciociara (Two Women). The term evokes a strong connection to the land, traditional life, and the unique culture of this central Italian territory.

Google AI

 

Gabrielle Hébert (French born Germany, 1853-1934) 'Lys des parterres, juin 1890' (Flowerbed lilies, June 1890) 1890

 

Gabrielle Hébert (French born Germany, 1853-1934)
Lys des parterres, juin 1890 (Flowerbed lilies, June 1890)
1890
Aristotype à la gélatine (Gelatin Aristotype)
10.5 x 12.7cm
© Musée National Ernest Hébert, Paris
Photo: Musée d’Orsay, Dist. RMN-Grand Palais / Alexis Brandt

 

Gabrielle Hébert (French born Germany, 1853-1934)
'La duchesse de Mondragone, des photographies de Gabrielle Hébert sur les genoux'
(The Duchess of Mondragone, with photographs of Gabrielle Hébert on her lap)
1890

 

Gabrielle Hébert (French born Germany, 1853-1934)
La duchesse de Mondragone, des photographies de Gabrielle Hébert sur les genoux
(The Duchess of Mondragone, with photographs of Gabrielle Hébert on her lap)

1890
Aristotype à la gélatine (Gelatin Aristotype)
8.4 x 11.3cm
© Musée National Ernest Hébert, Paris
Photo: Musée d’Orsay, Dist. RMN-Grand Palais / Alexis Brandt

 

Gabrielle Hébert (French born Germany, 1853-1934) 'Étude de lys dans les jardins par le pensionnaire Ernest Laurent et Ernest Hébert, en compagnie du modèle Amalia Scossa, 7 juin 1890' (Study of lilies in the gardens by boarder Ernest Laurent and Ernest Hébert, in the company of model Amalia Scossa, June 7, 1890) 1890

 

Gabrielle Hébert (French born Germany, 1853-1934)
Étude de lys dans les jardins par le pensionnaire Ernest Laurent et Ernest Hébert, en compagnie du modèle Amalia Scossa, 7 juin 1890
(Study of lilies in the gardens by boarder Ernest Laurent and Ernest Hébert, in the company of model Amalia Scossa, June 7, 1890)

1890
Aristotype à la gélatine, contrecollé sur carton (Gelatin Aristotype, mounted on cardboard)
8.1 x 11.4cm
© Musée National Ernest Hébert, Paris
Photo: Musée d’Orsay, Dist. RMN-Grand Palais / Alexis Brandt

 

 

Adaptation of the texts from the exhibition in large print

Introduction

An amateur painter and wife of the artist Ernest Hébert, director of the French Academy in Rome, Gabrielle Hébert began photography intensively and passionately at the Villa Medici in 1888. She abruptly stopped twenty years later in La Tronche (near Grenoble), upon the death of the man she idolised and who was forty years her senior. She will ensure her legacy through the creation of
two monographic museums.

Like Henri Rivière, Maurice Denis, or Émile Zola, who at the end of the 19th century seized upon a camera to record family life, Gabrielle developed a private and sentimental practice, fostered by the technical and aesthetic revolution of the snapshot. As the entries “I take photos” or “I photograph” in her diary show, not a day went by without her taking pictures. Securing her place as an author through these images in a milieu where artistic creation was reserved for men, she discovered herself.

Through the chronicle of her chosen land and happy days, she creates a work of memory and inscribes herself in History.

A Woman Under the Influence

On July 21, 1888, Gabrielle “went out to buy things necessary for photography.” This marked the beginning of an obsessive production of two thousand photographs, mostly taken at the Villa Medici where, as First Lady of a prestigious cultural institution, she organised receptions and received visiting high society. Gabrielle quickly escaped the constraints of her duties: she acquired a camera, took lessons from Cesare Vasari, a Roman professional, and, together with fellow resident Alexis Axilette, set up a darkroom to develop her negatives, print, and retouch her photographs.

She already had an eye for it thanks to her artistic background and her practice of painting and drawing. But it was with the Franco-Italian counts Giuseppe and Luigi Primoli that Gabrielle explored the potential of the instantaneous, becoming the subject of a creative and existential experience: photography.

An art of joy

Gabrielle chronicles the Villa Medici, at once an architectural masterpiece overlooking the Eternal City, a residence for the winners of the Grand Prix de Rome, and a laboratory for a new relationship between France and Italy, newly unified. She focuses her gaze on its inhabitants: artists and models, foreign visitors on holiday, Italian employees at work, flowers, and animals. She enjoys working alongside the “button-pushers” in her circle, as amateurs equipped with handheld cameras are known.

She also observes professionals capturing perspectives of the palace with their imposing camera. “Magnificent weather. I’m photographing the residents”: Gabrielle often associates the day’s weather with an urgent need to act. Present in the world, joyful in her being, she then presses the shutter. Taking the picture is an epiphany. “I photograph, therefore I exist,” she seems to be saying.

Mein Alles (My Everything)

Gabrielle focuses her attention on her husband, around whom she circles and whose activities she seems to observe when he is painting or showing guests around the premises. The tender and sensitive portrait she paints of him is that of a director, an artist entirely devoted to his work at his workplaces, or sketching en plein air on excursions. She also captures him in his nakedness, as an elderly man bathing in the sea. She is concerned about his state of health; she notes how he slept or the time he got up.

The couple’s asymmetry, commonplace at that time and in that social circle, is also expressed in their writings: while he uses the informal “tu” with her, she uses the formal “vous” and addresses him with the superlative phrase “Mein Alles”: My Everything.

Travels in Italy

During their eleven-year stay in Italy, Ernest and Gabrielle travelled all over the country.

The artist enjoys returning to favorite places painted during her youth. They take with them a boarder or student, Amelia Scossa, Ernest’s beloved model, or a few friends; the dogs are always present. In 1893, they travel to Sicily, to the Duke of Aumale’s estate, and then explore the ancient sites of Selinunte and Agrigento, and the Greek theaters of Syracuse and Taormina. By escaping the confines of the Villa Medici and its eccentric inhabitants, Gabrielle literally leaves her social milieu.

With an attention full of empathy for popular and regional culture, she manages to get groups of strangers, women
and men, to pose in front of her lens, no doubt placed on a tripod, whom she brings together in an amusing jumble around a fountain or on the steps of a building, arousing in return a certain curiosity.

In Spain, a cinematic perspective

In 1896, the couple left Italy with great regret and sorrow, returning to Paris and La Tronche where they continued to lead an intense social life. Two years later, Gabrielle completed her photographic swan song during a final journey, this time to Spain, which took them both from Burgos to Granada via Madrid, El Escorial, Toledo, Granada, and Seville.

Abandoning her large-format camera for a Kodak, she amplified in nearly three hundred photographs what she had already experimented with: daring viewpoints – notably from a speeding train – a camera in motion, glances towards the camera, the operator’s shadow cast on the ground, motion blur of people and things (smoke, clouds, and waves), truncated figures, and close-ups.

The nascent cinematograph had passed by. She no longer poses her subjects; she captures them on the fly. She seizes fleeting gestures, radiant moments, the stroll of passersby, the burst of laughter. This journey is an enchanted interlude that allows the couple to get back on their feet, one last time.

The tomb of an artist

Upon returning from Spain, Gabrielle ceased to cultivate her passion, born under the Italian sky. Her output diminished significantly, ceasing altogether in 1908, with Ernest’s death.

During his final months, she recorded his last visits and outings in the sun, his walks, and setting up his easel outdoors. She portrayed him as a draftsman and painter to the very end, then staged his posthumous portrait, for eternity. Containing the seeds of anticipation of the end, the photographs of moments lived, places visited, and people met, were in reality intended to be viewed by others besides their sole author.

With her thousands of images, Gabrielle composed a tomb, in the poetic sense of the word, erected in memory of her husband and their love. In the museum she created in Isère, in La Tronche, in honour of Ernest, it would take until the beginning of the 21st century for her photographic work to be discovered by a happy accident.

Marie Robert, Chief Curator, Photography and Cinema at the Musée d’Orsay, Paris, translated from the French by Google Translate

 

Gabrielle Hébert (French born Germany, 1853-1934) 'Arrière de la statue d'Apollon vainqueur du monstre Python, 13 mai 1891' (Back of the statue of Apollo victorious over the Python monster, May 13, 1891) 1891

 

Gabrielle Hébert (French born Germany, 1853-1934)
Arrière de la statue d’Apollon vainqueur du monstre Python, 13 mai 1891
(Back of the statue of Apollo victorious over the Python monster, May 13, 1891)

1891
Aristotype à la gélatine (Gelatin Aristotype)
8.2 x 10.9cm
© Musée National Ernest Hébert, Paris
Photo: Musée d’Orsay, Dist. RMN-Grand Palais / Alexis Brandt

 

Gabrielle Hébert (French born Germany, 1853-1934) 'La façade du palais sous la neige, 16 janvier 1891' (The palace façade under the snow, January 16, 1891) 1891

 

Gabrielle Hébert (French born Germany, 1853-1934)
La façade du palais sous la neige, 16 janvier 1891 (The palace façade under the snow, January 16, 1891)
1891
Aristotype à la gélatine (Gelatin Aristotype)
8.2 x 11.2cm
© Musée National Ernest Hébert, Paris
Photo: Musée d’Orsay, Dist. RMN-Grand Palais / Alexis Brandt

 

Gabrielle Hébert (French born Germany, 1853-1934) 'Éléonore d'Uckermann, le modèle Natalina, le prince Abamelek-Lazarev et le chien Farfaletta sur la terrasse du bosco, 5 janvier 1891' (Eleanor d'Uckermann, the model Natalina, Prince Abamelek-Lazarev and the dog Farfaletta on the terrace of the bosco, January 5, 1891) 1891

 

Gabrielle Hébert (French born Germany, 1853-1934)
Éléonore d’Uckermann, le modèle Natalina, le prince Abamelek-Lazarev et le chien Farfaletta sur la terrasse du bosco, 5 janvier 1891
(Eleanor d’Uckermann, the model Natalina, Prince Abamelek-Lazarev and the dog Farfaletta on the terrace of the bosco, January 5, 1891)

1891
Aristotype à la gélatine (Gelatin Aristotype)
8 x 10.8cm
© Musée National Ernest Hébert, Paris
Photo: Musée d’Orsay, Dist. RMN-Grand Palais / Alexis Brandt

 

Prince Semyon Semyonovich Abamelek-Lazarev (also Abamelik-Lazaryan; Russian: Семён Семёнович Абамелек-Лазарев; 24 November 1857 in Moscow – 2 October 1916 in Kislovodsk) was a Russian millionaire of Armenian ethnicity noted for his contributions to archaeology and geology.

 

Gabrielle Hébert (French born Germany, 1853-1934) 'Amalia Scossa et Ernest Hébert à sa peinture La Vierge au chardonneret sur la terrasse du campanile' (Amalia Scossa and Ernest Hébert at his painting The Virgin with the Goldfinch on the bell tower terrace) Around 1891

 

Gabrielle Hébert (French born Germany, 1853-1934)
Amalia Scossa et Ernest Hébert à sa peinture La Vierge au chardonneret sur la terrasse du campanile
(Amalia Scossa and Ernest Hébert at his painting The Virgin with the Goldfinch on the bell tower terrace)

Around 1891
Aristotype à la gélatine (Gelatin Aristotype)
9.6 x 12.3cm
© Musée National Ernest Hébert, Paris
Photo: Musée d’Orsay, Dist. RMN-Grand Palais / Alexis Brandt

 

The painting in the photograph is probably La Vierge de Chausseur by Ernest Hébert (c. 1891, below)

 

Ernest Hébert (French, 1817-1908) 'La Vierge de Chausseur' c. 1891

 

Ernest Hébert (French, 1817-1908)
La Vierge de Chausseur
c. 1891
Oil on canvas
73cm (28.7 in); width: 47cm (18.5 in)
Public domain

 

Gabrielle Hébert (French born Germany, 1853-1934) 'Sarah Bernhardt dans le studio aménagé de Giuseppe Primoli, Rome, février 1893' (Sarah Bernhardt in Giuseppe Primoli's furnished studio, Rome, February 1893) 1893

 

Gabrielle Hébert (French born Germany, 1853-1934)
Sarah Bernhardt dans le studio aménagé de Giuseppe Primoli, Rome, février 1893
(Sarah Bernhardt in Giuseppe Primoli’s furnished studio, Rome, February 1893)

1893
Négatif sur plaque de verre au gélatinobromure d’argent (Gelatin silver bromide glass plate negative)
9 x 12cm
© La Tronche, musée Hébert
Photo: Musée Hébert, Département de l’Isère

 

Giuseppe Primoli (Italian, 1851-1927)

Count Giuseppe Napoleone Primoli (in French, Joseph Napoléon Primoli; 2 May 1851 in Rome – 13 June 1927 in Rome) was an Italian nobleman, collector and photographer. …

Giuseppe Primoli lived in Paris from 1853 to 1870. He befriended writers and artists both in Italy and France, and was host to Guy de Maupassant, Paul Bourget, Alexandre Dumas fils, Sarah Bernhardt and others in Palazzo Primoli in Rome. In 1901 he became the sole owner of the palazzo, which he enlarged and modernised between 1904 and 1911.

Primoli was a bibliophile and collector, who assembled a large collection of books and prints. He amassed a collection of books by Stendhal as well as many from the writer’s library.

During the last decades of the nineteenth century, Primoli, an avid photographer, produced over 10,000 photographs.

Text from the Wikipedia website

 

Anonymous photographer. 'Giuseppe Primoli in his palace in Rome' c. 1911-1912

 

Anonymous photographer
Giuseppe Primoli in his palace in Rome
c. 1911-1912
Primoli Foundation, Rome

 

Gabrielle Hébert (French born Germany, 1853-1934) 'Femmes à la fenêtre, Taormine (Sicile), mai 1893' (Women at the window, Taormina (Sicily), May 1893) 1893

 

Gabrielle Hébert (French born Germany, 1853-1934)
Femmes à la fenêtre, Taormine (Sicile), mai 1893 (Women at the window, Taormina (Sicily), May 1893)
1893
Aristotype à la gélatine, papier (Gelatin Aristotype, paper)
7.8 x 11.4cm
© Musée National Ernest Hébert, Paris
Photo: Musée d’Orsay, Dist. RMN-Grand Palais / Alexis Brandt

 

With photographs like the one above, taken at Taormina, it is likely Gabrielle Hébert would have met Baron Wilhelm von Gloeden (German, 1856-1931) who lived and worked there between 1878-1931.

 

Gabrielle Hébert (French born Germany, 1853-1934) 'Paysans avec leurs chèvres, Sicile, mai 1893' (Peasants with their goats, Sicily, May 1893) 1893

 

Gabrielle Hébert (French born Germany, 1853-1934)
Paysans avec leurs chèvres, Sicile, mai 1893 (Peasants with their goats, Sicily, May 1893)
1893
Aristotype à la gélatine, papier (Gelatin Aristotype, paper)
7.9 x 10.9cm
La Tronche, Musée Hebert
© Musée Hébert, Département de l’Isère

 

Gabrielle Hébert (French born Germany, 1853-1934) 'Procession sur le port de Brindisi (Pouilles)' (Procession in the port of Brindisi (Apulia)) 1893

 

Gabrielle Hébert (French born Germany, 1853-1934)
Procession sur le port de Brindisi (Pouilles) (Procession in the port of Brindisi (Apulia))
1893
Aristotype à la gélatine, papier (Gelatin Aristotype, paper)
8.0 x 11.4cm
© Musée National Ernest Hébert, Paris
Photo: Musée d’Orsay, Dist. RMN-Grand Palais / Alexis Brandt

 

Gabrielle Hébert (French born Germany, 1853-1934) 'Garçon au coin de la place Zocodover, Tolède, 31 octobre 1898' (Boy on the corner of Zocodover Square, Toledo, October 31, 1898) 1898

 

Gabrielle Hébert (French born Germany, 1853-1934)
Garçon au coin de la place Zocodover, Tolède, 31 octobre 1898
(Boy on the corner of Zocodover Square, Toledo, October 31, 1898)

1898
Aristotype à la gélatine (Gelatin Aristotype)
10 x 10cm
La Tronche, musée Hebert
© Musée Hébert, Département de l’Isère

 

Gabrielle Hébert (French born Germany, 1853-1934) 'Ernest Hébert sur son lit de mort, novembre 1908' (Ernest Hébert on his deathbed, November 1908) 1908

 

Gabrielle Hébert (French born Germany, 1853-1934)
Ernest Hébert sur son lit de mort, novembre 1908 (Ernest Hébert on his deathbed, November 1908)
1908
Aristotype à la gélatine (Gelatin Aristotype)
9.5 x 9.8cm
© Musée National Ernest Hébert, Paris
Photo: Musée d’Orsay, Dist. RMN-Grand Palais / Alexis Brandt

 

 

Musée d’Orsay
62, rue de Lille
75343 Paris Cedex 07
France

Opening hours:
Tuesday – Sunday 9.30am – 5pm
Closed on Mondays

Musée d’Orsay website

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Exhibition: ‘Diane Arbus: Sanctum Sanctorum’ at David Zwirner, London

Exhibition dates: 6th November, 2025 – 17th January, 2026

 

Diane Arbus (American, 1923-1971) 'Transvestite with her birthday cake, N.Y.C. 1969' 1969 from the exhibition 'Diane Arbus: Sanctum Sanctorum' at David Zwirner, London, Nov 2025 - Jan 2026

 

Diane Arbus (American, 1923-1971)
Transvestite with her birthday cake, N.Y.C. 1969
1969
Gelatin silver print
© The Estate of Diane Arbus

 

 

Without judgement

In my humble opinion Diane Arbus is the best portrait photographer of the 20th century.

As can be seen in the quotation from a 1939 high-school essay on Plato when Arbus was just 19 years old (below), latent inside her was an appreciation of difference, uniqueness, and the importance of life – all awaiting an out, an emanation of her spirit later manifested in her photographs through the picturing of her subjects.

Arbus found her mature voice as an artist, her métier if you like, when in 1962 she switched from a 35mm camera to a 2 1/4 inch twin-lens reflex (TLR) Rolleiflex (later a Mamiyaflex), a square format which became her iconic signature.

In the photograph Nancy Bellamy’s bedroom, N.Y.C. 1961 (1961, below) we therefore have evidence of the early results of the use of this new camera. In this photograph I believe you can feel how Arbus is still getting used to his new way of seeing the world, for you have to approach your visualisation of the world in a completely different way when constructing the image plane in a square format. Here she is still unsure as to where to place the camera. The light is fantastic coming in through the window and flooding the room but the out of focus left wall is weak and simply does not work with the image.

Fast forward to 1963-1965 and we see Arbus in complete control of her physical and emotional environment. In photographs from this period, whether medium distance portraits showing subjects in situ or tightly cropped portraits with minimal backgrounds, we see her undoubted mastery of natural light, flash, construction and tensioning of the image plane but, above all, in control of the feeling that emanates from the photographs that flows to the viewer.

Whether direct / acceptance / this is who I am (Interior decorator at the nudist camp in his trailer, New Jersey, 1963, 1963 below) to contained / introspective (Lucas Samaras, N.Y.C. 1966, 1966 below) – but never the dreaded “dead pan” – and on to the inscrutable / open / closed looks on each of the three faces in the photograph Triplets in their Bedroom, N.J., 1963 (1963, below), Arbus is the master at conjuring, no what is the word I’m looking for … Arbus is the master at materialising the energy of a person or place before our very eyes.

As the press release so eloquently states, “Through her singular combination of intelligence, charisma, intuition, and courage, Diane Arbus was frequently invited into homes and other private realms seldom seen by strangers. Though made in intimate settings, her photographs evidence no sense of intrusion or trespass. Instead, they reveal an unspoken exchange between photographer and subject, a moment of recognition in which confidences emerge freely and without judgment.”

An unspoken exchange between photographer and subject. A moment of revelation, or revelatio, where the curtain is pulled back to reveal our innermost secrets. Visualised by Arbus without judgement.

As the years progress towards 1968-1970 Arbus becomes bolder still. In photographs such as A naked man being a woman, N.Y.C., 1968 (1968, below), Girl sitting on her bed with her shirt off, N.Y.C., 1968 (1968, below) and Mexican Dwarf in his hotel room, N.YC., 1970 (1970, below) we see and feel such an intimate bond between the photographer and the subject – all crap cut out, all extraneous noise gone, just the baring of the soul of the sitter looking directly into the camera. As Minor White used to say, a communication / communion between the photographer and the subject, back through the lens of the camera and onto the film, forming a Zenian circle of energy, hoping for a revelation of spirit in the negative and subsequent print – whether that be from a rock, a landscape or a portrait.

And in two photographs from the same sitting, we can begin to understand how Arbus achieved her aim. In the photograph Transvestite at the birthday party, N.Y.C. 1969 (1969, below) we have the subject in situ, in context, laughing, happy, enjoying her birthday party surrounded by her things. Then things change. In Transvestite with her birthday cake, N.Y.C. 1969 (1969, below) Arbus closes in on this wonderful human being on her bed with her birthday cake. Isolating her from the background through the use of flash, there she is, fag in hand, staring directly into the camera in all her strength and vulnerability. Arbus evinces what it is to be this human being, she has empathy for the subject in these intimate settings.

I believe that Arbus’ empathy for her subjects was greatly enhanced by the waist level engagement with her sitters when using her medium format camera. Instead of bringing the camera up to the eye, Arbus looks down into the viewfinder to locate and ground the energy of her subjects, and the camera is nestled at solar plexus / belly button, with all the connection to mother, blood, energy and water (Amniotic Fluid) from which we all come. When singing and in yoga practice, breathing comes from the stomach and the energy flows in an out of the navel, the Manipura (solar plexus) in yoga, linked to personal power, emotional balance, and metabolism, acting as a hub for energy distribution.1 Having used an old Mamiya twin-lens C220 medium format camera myself I can totally appreciate the unique perspective and energy such a camera position brings to picturing the world.

“These archetypal images have become deeply embedded in the collective conscience where conscience is pre-eminently the organ of sentiments and representations. The snap, snap, snap of the shutter evinces the flaws of human nature, reveals the presence of a quality or feeling to which we can all relate. As Arbus states, the subject of the picture is always more important than the picture. And more complicated. That is why these photographs always capture our attention – because we become, we inhabit, we are the subject.”2

Dr Marcus Bunyan

 

1/ The (navel) is seen as a powerful energy centre in many traditions (Yoga, Ayurveda, TCM) and science, representing our origin, core strength, digestion (Agni/digestive fire), self-esteem, and life force (prana).

2/ Marcus Bunyan commenting on the exhibition Diane Arbus at Jeu de Paume, Paris, October 2011 – February 2012


Many thankx to David Zwirner for allowing me to publish the 5 images and installation photographs in the posting. All other photographs are used under fair use conditions for the purposes of eduction and research. Please click on the photographs for a larger version of the image.

 

 

“For me the subject of the picture is always more important than the picture. And more complicated.”


Diane Arbus

 

“There are and have been and will be an infinite number of things on earth: individuals all different, all wanting different things, all knowing different things, all loving different things, all looking different. Everything that has been on earth has been different from any other thing. That is what I love: the differentness, the uniqueness of all things and the importance of life…. I see something that seems wonderful; I see the divineness in ordinary things.”


Diane Arbus in a high-school essay on Plato, 1939

 

 

Dennis McGuire (American) 'Untitled [Diane Arbus using her medium format Mamiya camera]' Nd

 

Dennis McGuire (American)
Untitled [Diane Arbus using her medium format Mamiya camera]
Nd
© Dennis McGuire

Used under fair use conditions for the purposes of education and research

 

Installation view of the exhibition 'Diane Arbus: Sanctum Sanctorum' at David Zwirner, London

 

Installation view of the exhibition Diane Arbus: Sanctum Sanctorum at David Zwirner, London showing at left, Arbus’ Girl sitting on her bed with her shirt off, N.Y.C., 1968; at centre, Interior decorator at the nudist camp in his trailer, New Jersey 1963; at second right, Mrs. T. Charlton Henry in a negligee, Philadelphia, Pa. 1965; and at right, Triplets in their Bedroom, N.J., 1963

 

Installation view of the exhibition 'Diane Arbus: Sanctum Sanctorum' at David Zwirner, London

 

Installation view of the exhibition Diane Arbus: Sanctum Sanctorum at David Zwirner, London showing at second left, Arbus’ Two friends at home, N.Y.C., 1965; at second right, Brenda Diana Duff Frazier, 1938 Debutante of the Year, at home, Boston, Mass. 1966; and at right, Transvestite at her birthday party, N.Y.C., 1968

 

Installation view of the exhibition 'Diane Arbus: Sanctum Sanctorum' at David Zwirner, London

 

Installation view of the exhibition Diane Arbus: Sanctum Sanctorum at David Zwirner, London showing Arbus’ photograph A naked man being a woman, N.Y.C. 1968

 

Installation view of the exhibition 'Diane Arbus: Sanctum Sanctorum' at David Zwirner, London

 

Installation view of the exhibition Diane Arbus: Sanctum Sanctorum at David Zwirner, London showing in the centre distance, Arbus’ Mexican dwarf in his hotel room, N.Y.C. 1970; at second right, Lucas Samaras, N.Y.C. 1966; and at right, Bishop on her bed, Santa Barbara, Cal., 1964

 

Diane Arbus (American, 1923-1971) 'Female impersonator on bed, N.Y.C. 1961' 1961 from the exhibition 'Diane Arbus: Sanctum Sanctorum' at David Zwirner, London, Nov 2025 - Jan 2026

 

Diane Arbus (American, 1923-1971)
Female impersonator on bed, N.Y.C. 1961
1961
Gelatin silver print
© The Estate of Diane Arbus

 

Diane Arbus (American, 1923-1971) 'The Backwards Man in his hotel room, N.Y.C. 1961' 1961

 

Diane Arbus (American, 1923-1971)
The Backwards Man in his hotel room, N.Y.C. 1961
1961
Gelatin silver print
© The Estate of Diane Arbus

 

Diane Arbus (American, 1923-1971) 'Lucas Samaras, N.Y.C. 1966' 1966

 

Diane Arbus (American, 1923-1971)
Lucas Samaras, N.Y.C. 1966
1966
Gelatin silver print
© The Estate of Diane Arbus

 

Lucas Samaras (Greek: Λουκάς Σαμαράς; September 14, 1936 – March 7, 2024) was a Greek-born American photographer, sculptor, and painter. …

His “Auto-Interviews” were a series of text works that were “self-investigatory” interviews. The primary subject of his photographic work is his own self-image, generally distorted and mutilated. He worked with multi-media collages, and by manipulating the wet dyes in Polaroid photographic film to create what he calls “Photo-Transformations”.

Text from the Wikipedia website

 

Diane Arbus (American, 1923-1971) 'Brenda Diana Duff Frazier, 1938 Debutante of the Year, at home, Boston, Mass. 1966' 1966

 

Diane Arbus (American, 1923-1971)
Brenda Diana Duff Frazier, 1938 Debutante of the Year, at home, Boston, Mass. 1966
1966
Gelatin silver print
© The Estate of Diane Arbus

 

 

~ Sanctum Sanctoruma sacred room or inner chamber; a place of inviolable privacy

Diane Arbus: Sanctum Sanctorum, an exhibition of forty-five photographs made in private places across New York, New Jersey, California, and London between 1961 and 1971, is on view at David Zwirner, London, from 6 November to 17 January 2025, and travels to Fraenkel Gallery, San Francisco in spring 2026. The exhibition will be accompanied by a comprehensive monograph reproducing all works in the exhibition, jointly published by both galleries.

Through her singular combination of intelligence, charisma, intuition, and courage, Diane Arbus was frequently invited into homes and other private realms seldom seen by strangers. Though made in intimate settings, her photographs evidence no sense of intrusion or trespass. Instead, they reveal an unspoken exchange between photographer and subject, a moment of recognition in which confidences emerge freely and without judgment.

Arbus’s desire to know people embraced a vast spectrum of humanity. Her subjects in Sanctum Sanctorum include debutantes, nudists, celebrities, aspiring celebrities, socialites, transvestites, babies, widows, circus performers, lovers, female impersonators, and a blind couple in their bedroom.

The exhibition brings together little-known works, such as Girl sitting in bed with her boyfriend, N.Y.C1966Ozzie and Harriet Nelson on their bed, Los Angeles 1970; and Interior decorator at the nudist camp in his trailer, New Jersey 1963, alongside celebrated images like Mexican dwarf in his hotel room, N.Y.C. 1970 and A naked man being a woman, N.Y.C. 1968

While many of Arbus’s photographs have become part of the public’s collective consciousness since her landmark retrospective at The Museum of Modern Art, New York, in 1972, seen in this context, viewers may discover aspects of even familiar works that have previously gone unnoticed.

Sanctum Sanctorum follows two recent major exhibitions of the artist’s work: Cataclysm: The 1972 Diane Arbus Retrospective Revisited at David Zwirner New York (2022) and Los Angeles (2025), and Diane Arbus: Constellation at LUMA, Arles (2023–2024) and the Park Avenue Armory, New York (2025).

Exhibition Catalogue

This new title ‘Sanctum Sanctorum’ illuminates Diane Arbus’s singular ability to enter private worlds.

Press release from the David Zwirner

 

Diane Arbus (American, 1923-1971) 'Nancy Bellamy’s bedroom, N.Y.C. 1961' 1961

 

Diane Arbus (American, 1923-1971)
Nancy Bellamy’s bedroom, N.Y.C. 1961
1961
Gelatin silver print
© The Estate of Diane Arbus

Used under fair use conditions for the purposes of education and research.

 

One of Arbus’s lesser known pictures, this photograph is of the bedroom of Nancy Bellamy, the wife of Richard Bellamy, a leading gallerist in 1960s New York who influentially championed Pop Art and Minimalism. Before she began her personal projects, Arbus worked in fashion photography with her husband, Allan, and she first met Nancy when she modelled for the Arbuses on a fashion shoot. As well as modelling, Bellamy also worked as a dancer, painter and costume designer, and had a keen interest in spiritualism. Like ‘Xmas Tree in a Living Room in Levittown 1963’, Arbus uses an empty room to create a portrait of the person – the dressmaker’s dummy, the canvas on the wall, the photographs by the mirror and the simple, yet elegant furnishings together create an impression of Arbus’s friend’s personality.

Text from the National Galleries of Scotland website

 

Diane Arbus (American, 1923-1971) 'Interior decorator at the nudist camp in his trailer, New Jersey, 1963' 1963

 

Diane Arbus (American, 1923-1971)
Interior decorator at the nudist camp in his trailer, New Jersey, 1963
1963
Gelatin silver print
© The Estate of Diane Arbus

Used under fair use conditions for the purposes of education and research.

 

Diane Arbus (American, 1923-1971) 'Triplets in their Bedroom, N.J., 1963' 1963

 

Diane Arbus (American, 1923-1971)
Triplets in their Bedroom, N.J., 1963
1963
Gelatin silver print
© The Estate of Diane Arbus

Used under fair use conditions for the purposes of education and research.

 

Diane Arbus (American, 1923-1971) 'Bishop on her bed, Santa Barbara, Cal., 1964' 1964, printed later

 

Diane Arbus (American, 1923-1971)
Bishop on her bed, Santa Barbara, Cal., 1964
1964
Gelatin silver print
© The Estate of Diane Arbus

Used under fair use conditions for the purposes of education and research.

 

The bishop in Diane Arbus’s photograph “Bishop on her bed, Santa Barbara, Cal.” (1964, above) was Bishop Ethel Predonzan, a unique figure who believed she was in Santa Barbara to await the Second Coming of Christ and wore elaborate robes, described by Arbus as a “small lady in damask robes with hair of phosphorescent pink”.

Predonzan was a key subject in Arbus’s exploration of individuals on the fringes, showcasing the artist’s ability to find deep personal connection and reveal inner strangeness. 

Google AI

 

Diane Arbus (American, 1923-1971) 'Charlton Henry in a negligee, Philadelphia, Pa. 1965' 1965

 

Diane Arbus (American, 1923-1971)
Charlton Henry in a negligee, Philadelphia, Pa. 1965
1965
Gelatin silver print
© The Estate of Diane Arbus

Used under fair use conditions for the purposes of education and research.

 

Mrs T. Charlton Henry was a Philadelphia socialite, a philanthropist, and a fashion icon – often top of the ‘best-dressed’ lists. She was the kind of wealthy upper-class woman that Arbus’s father would have hoped to see in his Fifth Avenue department store buying the latest furs.

Text from the National Galleries of Scotland website

 

“Mrs. Henry, born Julia Rush Biddle of Philadelphia’s Main Line, weighs approximately 88 pounds. She will be 82 years old this month. She has been on the best-dressed list so often that she is now a member of fashion’s Hall of Fame. She still lives in Philadelphia, but commutes to New York for luncheon, shopping, theater. She sits, with the posture of another era, on a bound-to-be-seen banquette at La Caravelle restaurant and delves into a curry (“I’ll have jellied soup for dinner tonight”). Her silver and gold “57 varieties” hair is meticulously coifed; the fingernails that blow delicate little kisses of greeting to friends are tinted a deep pink. Her brown and white gingham Mainbocher is perked up with her favorite day jewels. There are marble-size pearls around the neck and one wrist, and massive yellow sapphires at the other wrist, the ears, and flashing away on a ring and a brooch.”

Enid Nemy. “Mrs. T. Charlton Henry: A Grande Dame and a Jogger,” on The New York Times website July 29, 1968 [Online] Cited 05/01/2026

 

Diane Arbus (American, 1923-1971) 'Two friends at home, N.Y.C., 1965' 1965

 

Diane Arbus (American, 1923-1971)
Two friends at home, N.Y.C., 1965
1965
Gelatin silver print
© The Estate of Diane Arbus

Used under fair use conditions for the purposes of education and research.

 

Diane Arbus (American, 1923-1971) 'A naked man being a woman, N.Y.C., 1968' 1968

 

Diane Arbus (American, 1923-1971)
A naked man being a woman, N.Y.C., 1968
1968
Gelatin silver print
© The Estate of Diane Arbus

Used under fair use conditions for the purposes of education and research.

 

Diane Arbus (American, 1923-1971) 'Girl sitting on her bed with her shirt off, N.Y.C., 1968' 1968

 

Diane Arbus (American, 1923-1971)
Girl sitting on her bed with her shirt off, N.Y.C., 1968
1968
Gelatin silver print
© The Estate of Diane Arbus

Used under fair use conditions for the purposes of education and research.

 

Diane Arbus (American, 1923-1971) 'Transvestite at the birthday party, N.Y.C. 1969' 1969

 

Diane Arbus (American, 1923-1971)
Transvestite at the birthday party, N.Y.C. 1969
1969
Gelatin silver print
© The Estate of Diane Arbus

Used under fair use conditions for the purposes of education and research.

 

Diane Arbus (American, 1923-1971) 'Mexican Dwarf in his hotel room, N.YC., 1970' 1970

 

Diane Arbus (American, 1923-1971)
Mexican Dwarf in his hotel room, N.YC., 1970
1970
Gelatin silver print
© The Estate of Diane Arbus

Used under fair use conditions for the purposes of education and research.

 

 

David Zwirner
24 Grafton Street
London W1S 4EZ

Opening hours:
Tuesday – Saturday, 10am – 6pm

David Zwirner website

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The best of Art Blart in 2025

December 2025

 

Around the world, 2025 hasn’t been a great year for photography exhibitions. As a friend of mine said on Facebook it has been a dreary year and I would tend to agree with him.

Curatorially, everything was pretty cut and dried, relying on the usual one artist show or group exhibition on a theme with nobody prepared to take a risk on anything creative, inventive even.

I found little to inspire me in terms of idiosyncratic but illuminating pairings of photographers or unusual insights into the conditions and conceptualisation of photographic production and presentation – other than a few of the exhibitions noted below: costume, gesture and expression – yes! the development of colour photography pre the ubiquitous American artists – yes! and the life in self-portraits of a photobooth operator in Melbourne, part magician, part artist – YES!

Out of the 60 postings on Art Blart in 2025 I’ve picked what I think are the 11 best exhibitions, plus a couple of honourable mentions.

I hope you enjoy the selection and a Happy New Year to you all!

Dr Marcus Bunyan

 

1/ Marcus Bunyan. “Past present,” on the exhibition Still Performing: Costume, Gesture, and Expression in 19th Century European Photography at the Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art, Kansas City, August 2024 – January 2025

 

Victor Plumier (Belgian, 1820-1878) 'Lady in Costume' About 1850

 

Victor Plumier (Belgian, 1820-1878)
Lady in Costume
About 1850
Daguerreotype, half plate
5 1/2 × 4 1/2 inches
The Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art
Gift of the Hall Family Foundation

 

“The emotions and the sentiments, the gestures and the expressions.
The actor and the stage, the photographer and the sitter.
The staged photograph and the tableaux vivant.
The Self and the Other.” ~ MB

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2/ A Long Arc: Photography and the American South since 1845 at the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts, Richmond, October 2024 – January 2025

 

Andrew Joseph Russell (American, 1829-1902) 'Slave Pen, Alexandria, Virginia' 1863

 

Andrew Joseph Russell (American, 1829-1902)
Slave Pen, Alexandria, Virginia
1863
Albumen silver print
High Museum of Art
Purchased with funds Lucinda Weill Bunnen Fund and the Donald and Marilyn Keogh Family

 

“Photographs are containers of, fragments of, memories of, histories of, events – remembrances of events – brought from past into present, informing the future, showing only snippets of the stories of both past and present lives. Parallel to the usual thought that photographs are about death, they are also memory containers for (still) living people.” ~ MB

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3/ Marcus Bunyan. “Out in the midday sun,” on the exhibition Martin Parr. Early Works at Fotografie Forum Frankfurt (FFF), September 2024 – February 2025

 

Martin Parr (British, 1952-2025) 'Mayor of Todmorden's inaugural banquet, Todmorden, West Yorkshire, England, 1977' 1977

 

Martin Parr (British, 1952-2025)
Mayor of Todmorden’s inaugural banquet, Todmorden, West Yorkshire, England, 1977
1977
Gelatin silver print
© Martin Parr | Magnum Photos

 

“I am always fascinated with the early work of an artist. In essence, the photographs tell you what are the primary concerns for the artist and these themes usually remain with them for the rest of their career. These early black and white photographs provide a window into that ongoing investigation, that golden path. They are more subtle in their modulation of British life than in the later colour work – it’s as though the artist had to change gears with the use of colour developing a more ironic way of seeing British life through a different spatial relationship to his subjects – but in these photographs there is still that deprecating humour that is often missing in the work of his contemporaries…” ~ MB

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4/ Saul Leiter – An Unfinished World at Foam, Amsterdam, January – April, 2025

 

Saul Leiter (American, 1923-2013) 'Pull' c. 1960

 

Saul Leiter (American, 1923-2013)
Pull
c. 1960
Chromogenic print
© Saul Leiter Foundation

 

“There are the things that are out in the open, and there are the things that are hidden, and life has more to do, the real world has more to do with what is hidden.” ~ Saul Leiter

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5/ True Colors: Color in Photography from 1849 to 1955 at Albertina Modern, Vienna, January – April, 2025

 

Léon Vidal (French, 1833-1906) 'Oriental Onyx Sardonyx Cup (16th century)' 1876

 

Léon Vidal (French, 1833-1906)
Oriental Onyx Sardonyx Cup (16th century)
1876
Photomechanical proof (photochromy using the Léon Vidal process) mounted on cardboard
H. 20.8 ; L. 26.2 cm.
Don Fondation Kodak-Pathé, 1983

 

“What a wonderful exhibition. It’s so exciting to see the history and development of colour photography pre the ubiquitous, American artists William Eggleston and Stephen Shore, much as I like both artists.” ~ MB

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6/ The basement: photography from Prahran College (1968-1981) at the Museum of Australian Photography, Wheelers Hill, Melbourne, March – May 2025

 

Julie Millowick (Australian, b. 1948) 'Mother and child from 46 Blanche Street, St Kilda' 1977

 

Julie Millowick (Australian, b. 1948)
Mother and child from 46 Blanche Street, St Kilda
1977
Gelatin silver print
15.9 x 23.7cm
Museum of Australian Photography, City of Monash Collection donated by Julie Millowick 2024

 

“Prahran College itself played a critical role in the legitimisation of photography as an art form within Australia. It spearheaded the integration of art photography into tertiary education curricula, fostering an environment where young artists … could experiment formally and conceptually.”

James McArdle. “Epoch,” on the On This Date in Photography website, 25th April, 2025 [Online] Cited 28/04/2025

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7/ Peter Mitchell: Nothing Lasts Forever at The Photographers’ Gallery, London, March – June 2025

 

Peter Mitchell (British, b. 1943) 'Opticians, London, 1975' 1975

 

Peter Mitchell (British, b. 1943)
Opticians, London, 1975
1975
C-print
© Peter Mitchell

 

“The wit, the humour (pigeons sitting outside the racing pigeon shop), the stiff upper lip, the carry on regardless, the working class pantomime of life and death – the public commission flats where people formed caring communities that were destroyed through redevelopment – the integrity of an existence that has largely come and gone pictured with warmth and empathy.” ~ MB

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8/ Auto-Photo: A Life in Portraits at RMIT Gallery, Melbourne, June – August 2025

 

Installation view of the exhibition 'Auto-Photo: A Life in Portraits' at RMIT Gallery, Melbourne, June - August, 2025

 

Installation view of the exhibition Auto-Photo: A Life in Portraits at RMIT Gallery, Melbourne, June – August, 2025
Photo: Marcus Bunyan

 

“Through the strip self-portraits Adler took while servicing and then testing the photobooths that he operated in Melbourne, Australia we become immersed in an archive of his world, the exhibition becoming a joyous ode to a man who devoted his life to photography (not in the traditional sense): in turns humorous and historical, a travelogue, his travelogue, through time and space.’ ~ MB

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9/ Street Photography. Lee Friedlander, Joseph Rodríguez, Garry Winogrand at Museum Ludwig, Cologne, Germany, May – October 2025

 

Joseph Rodriguez (American, b. 1952) '220 West Houston Street, NY' 1984

 

Joseph Rodríguez (American, b. 1952)
220 West Houston Street, New York
1984
Gelatin silver paper, print after 1988
25.3 x 37.2cm
© Joseph Rodríguez, Courtesy Galerie Bene Taschen
Repro: Historisches Archiv mit Rheinischem Bildarchiv

 

“Rodríguez’s moody, high contrast photographs of humanity and street scenes pictured from behind the wheel of his taxi in New York proffer an intuitive, empathetic and subjective view of the city and its people at a time of great economic and social upheaval…

Uncertain times, uncertain angles and perspectives, uncertain light give rise to a powerful body of work made certain by the talent of an impressive photographer. Glorious work.” ~ MB

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10/ Marcus Bunyan. “Myths of the American West,” on the exhibition Richard Avedon ‘In the American West’ 1979-1984 at the Fondation Henri Cartier-Bresson, Paris, April – October 2025

  

Richard Avedon (American, 1923-2004) 'Sandra Bennett, twelve year old, Rocky Ford, Colorado, August 23, 1980' 1980

 

Richard Avedon (American, 1923-2004)
Sandra Bennett, twelve year old, Rocky Ford, Colorado, August 23, 1980
1980
Gelatin silver print
© The Richard Avedon Foundation

 

“Avedon, while undercutting the myth of the American West through his storytelling, doesn’t seek to document, exploit or misrepresent his subjects, but to subjectively present them as on a theatrical set devoid of scenery – where their very appearance becomes scene / seen. As he himself said, “My concern is… the human predicament; only what I consider the human predicament may simply be my own.”” ~ MB

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11/ Bernd & Hilla Becher – History of a Method at Die Photographische Sammlung/SK Stiftung Kultur, Cologne, September 2025 – February 2026

 

Bernd and Hilla Becher (German, 1931-2007/1934-2015) 'Wassertürme, USA' (Water towers, USA) 1974-1983

 

Bernd and Hilla Becher (German, 1931-2007/1934-2015)
Wassertürme, USA (Water towers, USA)
1974-1983
Gelatin silver prints
© Estate Bernd & Hilla Becher, vertreten durch Max Becher
Courtesy Die Photographische Sammlung/SK Stiftung Kultur – Bernd und Hilla Becher Archiv, Köln, 2025

 

“The Bechers’ typologies and grids, their topographic state, their same same photographs and perspectives of industrial sculptures and landscapes are anything but objective. Their pictorial grammar, underlaid by a conceptual approach to subject matter, continuously reflected in the systematics of capture and display (the juxtaposition of works together), is constantly undermined by the ghost in the machine – those viral codes of mutation and difference which cannot be controlled.” ~ MB

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Honourable mentions


Typologien: Photography in 20th-century Germany at Fondazione Prada, Milan, April – July, 2025

 

Heinrich Riebesehl (German, 1938-2010) 'Menschen Im Fahrstuhl, 20.11.1969' [People in the Elevator, 20.11.1969] 1969

 

Heinrich Riebesehl (German, 1938-2010)
Menschen Im Fahrstuhl, 20.11.1969 [People in the Elevator, 20.11.1969]
1969
Gelatin silver print, printed 2007
Kicken Berlin
© Heinrich Riebesehl, by SIAE 2025

 

Objective / subjective
Pattern / randomness
Isolation / extinction
Morphology / mutation
Specific / anonymous
Repetition / difference
Same / other
Structure / creativity
Orientation / disorientation
Universal / individual
Reality / imagination
Documentation / disruption
Omnipresent / unique
Exact / imprecise
Composed / emotional
Staged / snapshot
Concept / feeling
Formal / intuitive
Ritual / subversion
Collaboration / resistance

Et cetera, et cetera…

Inherent in one is the other.

Every photo within a Becher grid contains its own difference. ~ MB

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Carrie Mae Weems: The Heart of the Matter at Gallerie d’Italia, Turin, April – September, 2025

 

Carrie Mae Weems (American, b. 1953) 'Welcome Home' 1978-1984 From the series 'Family Pictures and Stories'

 

Carrie Mae Weems (American, b. 1953)
Welcome Home
1978-1984
From the series Family Pictures and Stories 1978-1984
© Carrie Mae Weems and reproduced courtesy of the artist and Gladstone Gallery, New York, Fraenkel Gallery, San Francisco, and Galerie Barbara Thumm, Berlin

 

“Weems blends the poetic and conceptual in photographs and bodies of work which investigate history, identity, racism, executive and patriarchal power from the perspectives of female / Black American.

What a fabulous artist, a guide into circumstances seldom seen, now revealed.” ~ MB

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Exhibition: ‘Man Ray: When Objects Dream’ at The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York

Exhibition dates: 14th September, 2025 – 1st February, 2026

Curators: Stephanie D’Alessandro, Leonard A. Lauder Curator of Modern Art and Senior Research Coordinator in Modern and Contemporary Art at The Met, and Stephen C. Pinson, Curator in the Department of Photographs at The Met, with the assistance of Micayla Bransfield, Research Associate, Modern and Contemporary Art. 

 

Man Ray (American, 1890-1976) 'Marine' c. 1925 from the exhibition 'Man Ray: When Objects Dream' at The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, September 2025 - February 2026

 

Man Ray (American, 1890-1976) 
Marine 
c. 1925 
Gelatin silver print 
8 3/4 × 11 9/16 in. (22.2 × 29.3cm) 
Private collection; courtesy Galerie 1900-2000, Paris-New York 
© Man Ray 2015 Trust / Artists Rights Society (ARS), NY / ADAGP, Paris 2025 

 

 

“Like the undisturbed ashes of an object consumed by flames these images are oxidized residues fixed by light and chemical elements of an experience, an adventure, not an experiment. They are the result of curiosity, inspiration, and these words do not pretend to convey any information.”


Man Ray1

 

 

The rayographs

Although not the inventor of the photogram, a photograph made without the use of a camera by placing objects directly onto sensitised photographic paper and then exposing the paper to light, Man Ray’s rayographs have become the most recognisable and famous form that photograms have taken. This is because of their inventiveness, their subliminal connection to the psyche, and the use of “objects from the real world to make ambiguous dreamscapes.”7

It is interesting that Man Ray called his images rayographs, for a graph implies a topographical mapping, a laying out of statistics, whereas Lucia Moholy and László Moholy-Nagy’s photograms imply in the title of their technique the transmission of some form of message, like a telegram. The paradox is that, as the quotation above states, Man Ray always insisted that his rayographs imparted no information at all; perhaps they are only dreams made (un)stable. Contrary to this the other two artists believed that, “photographic images – cameraless and other – should not deal with conventional sentiments or personal feelings but should be concerned with light and form,”8 quite the reverse of the title of their technique.

After his arrival in Paris Man Ray started experimenting in his darkroom and discovered the technique for his rayographs by accident. With the help of his friend the Surrealist poet Tristan Tzara, he published a portfolio of twelve Rayographs in 1922 called Les champs délicieux (The delicious fields). “This title is a reference to ‘Les champs magnétiques’, a collection of writings by André Breton and Philippe Soupault composed from purportedly random thought fragments recorded by the two authors.”9 The rayographs are visual representations of random thought fragments, “photographic equivalents for the Surrealist sensibility that glorified randomness and disjunction.”10

Man Ray, “denied the camera its simplest joy: the ability to capture everything, all the distant details, all the ephemeral lights and shadows of the world”11 but, paradoxically, the rayographs are the most ephemeral of creatures, only being able to be created once, the result not being known until after the photographic paper has been developed. In fact, for Man Ray to create his portfolio Les champs délicieux (The delicious fields), he had to rephotograph the rayographs in order to make multiple copies.12

Man Ray “insisted in nearly every interview that the rayograph was not a photogram in the traditional sense. He did something that a photogram didn’t; he introduced depth into the images,”13 which denied the images their photographic objectivity by depicting an internal landscape rather than an external one.14 What the rayographs do not deny, however, is the subjectivity of the artist, his skill at placing the objects on the photographic paper, expressed in their dream-like nature, both a subjective ephemerality (because they could only be produced once) and an ephemeral subjectivity (because they were expressions of Man Ray’s fantasies, and therefore had little substance).

Through an alchemical process the latent images emerge from the photographic paper, representations of Man Ray’s fantasies as embodied in the ‘presence’ of the objects themselves, in the surface of the paper. Perhaps these objects offer, in Heidegger’s terms, ‘a releasement towards things’,15 “a coexistence between a conscious and unconscious way of perceiving which sustains the mystery of the object confusing the distinction between real time and sensual time, between inside and outside, input and output becoming neither here nor there.”16

Finally, within their depth of field the rayographs can be seen as both dangerous and delicious, for somehow they are both beautiful and unsettling at one and the same time. As Surrealism revels in randomness and chance these images enact the titles of other Man Ray photographs: Danger-Dancer, Anxiety, Dust Raising, Distorted House. The rayographs revel in chance and risk; Man Ray brings his fantasies to the surface, an interior landscape represented externally that can be (re)produced only once – those dangerous delicious fields.

Extract from Marcus Bunyan. “The Delicious Fields: Exploring Man Ray’s ‘Rayographs’ in a Digital Future,” published in The University of Queensland Vanguard magazine ‘Man Ray: Life, Work & Themes’, 2004

 

Footnotes

1/ Man Ray quoted in Janus (trans. Murtha Baca). Man Ray: The Photographic Image. London: Gordon Fraser, 1980, p. 213

7/ Mark Greenberg (ed.,). In Focus: Man Ray: Photographs from the J. Paul Getty Museum. Los Angeles, The J. Paul Getty Museum, 1998, p. 38

8/ Naomi Rosenblum. A World History of Photography. New York: Abbeville Press, 1997, 394

9/ Greenberg, op. cit., p. 28

10/ Jed Perl (ed.,). Man Ray: Aperture Masters of Photography. New York: Aperture, 1997 pp. 11-12

11/ Perl, op. cit., pp. 5-6

12/ Greenberg, op. cit., p. 28

13/ Greenberg, op. cit., p. 112

14/ Greenberg, op. cit., p. 28

15/ “We stand at once within the realm of that which hides itself from us, and hides itself just in approaching us. That which shows itself and at the same time withdraws is the essential trait of what we call the mystery … Releasement towards things and openness to the mystery belong together. They grant us the possibility of dwelling in the world in a totally different way…”

Martin Heidegger. Discourse on Thinking. New York: Harper & Row, 1966, pp. 55-56 quoted in Mauro Baracco. “Completed Yet Unconcluded: The Poetic Resistance of Some Melbourne Architecture,” in Leon van Schaik (ed.,). Architectural Design Vol. 72. No. 2 (‘Poetics in Architecture’). London: John Wiley and Sons, 2002, 74, Footnote 6.

16/ Marcus Bunyan. Spaces That Matter: Awareness and Entropia in the Imaging of Place (2002) [Online] Cited 07/07/2004.


Many thankx to The Metropolitan Museum of Art for allowing me to publish the photographs in the posting. Please click on the photographs for a larger version of the image.

 

 

“Stepping into the exhibition Man Ray: When Objects Dream at The Metropolitan Museum of Art feels like entering the bellows of an old camera. Through a rectangular frame cut into the entry, the darkened walls unfold, accordion-like, to reveal a visual feast of the artist’s work, as Man Ray’s earliest film, “Retour à la raison (Return to Reason)” (1923), flickers across the screen opposite. Although the exhibition brings together approximately 160 works from an impressive array of lenders, it reveals itself gradually, taking the viewer through several turns before one can grasp its sheer enormity. When Objects Dream proves, thrillingly, that anyone left feeling jaded from the many, many recent exhibitions surrounding Surrealism’s centennial in 2024 can still see the movement’s key photographer with a fresh set of eyes.”


Julia Curl. “Man Ray Was So Much More Than a Photographer,” on the Hyperallergic website September 16, 2025 [Online] Cited 05/12/2025

 

“Objects to touch, to eat, to crunch, to apply to the eye, to the skin, to press, to lick, to break, to grind, objects to lie, to flee from, to honor, things cold or hot, feminine or masculine, objects of day or night which absorb through your pores the greater part of our life. … These are the projections surprised in transparence, by the light of tenderness, of objects that dream and talk in their sleep.” 

.
Tristan Tzara, “When Objects Dream,” 1934

 

“One sheet of paper got into the developing tray – a sheet unexposed that had been mixed with those already exposed under the negatives. … Regretting the waste of paper, I mechanically placed a small glass funnel, the graduate, and the thermometer in the tray on the wetted paper. I turned on the light; before my eyes an image began to form, not quite a simple silhouette of the objects as in a straight photograph, but distorted and refracted by the glass more or less in contact with the paper and standing out against a black background. … I remembered when I was a boy, placing fern leaves in a printing frame with proof paper, exposing it to sunlight, and obtaining a white negative of the leaves. This was the same idea, but with an added three-dimensional quality and tone graduation. I made a few more prints … taking whatever came to hand; my hotel-room key, a handkerchief, some pencils, a brush, a candle, a piece of twine … excitedly, enjoying myself immensely. In the morning I examined the results. … They looked startlingly new and mysterious.”


Man Ray 

 

 

Man Ray (American, 1890-1976) 'Rayograph' 1922 from the exhibition 'Man Ray: When Objects Dream' at The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, September 2025 - February 2026

 

Man Ray (American, 1890-1976) 
Rayograph
1922 
Gelatin silver print 
9 1/2 × 7 in. (24.1 × 17.8cm) 
The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, Bluff Collection, Promised Gift of John A. Pritzker 
© Man Ray 2015 Trust / Artists Rights Society (ARS), NY / ADAGP, Paris 2025
Photo by Ben Blackwell 

 

Man Ray (American, 1890-1976) 'Rayograph' 1922

 

Man Ray (American, 1890-1976) 
Rayograph
1922 
Gelatin silver print 
9 3/8 × 7 in. (23.8 × 17.8cm) 
The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles
Courtesy The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles 
© Man Ray 2015 Trust / Artists Rights Society (ARS), NY / ADAGP, Paris 2025

 

Man Ray (American, 1890-1976) 'Rayograph' 1922

 

Man Ray (American, 1890-1976) 
Rayograph
1922
Gelatin silver print
9 3/8 x 7 in. (23.8 x 17.8cm)
Private collection
© Man Ray 2015 Trust / Artists Rights Society (ARS), NY / ADAGP, Paris 2025

 

Man Ray (American, 1890-1976) 'Rayograph' 1923

 

Man Ray (American, 1890-1976) 
Rayograph 
1923 
Gelatin silver print 
11 1/2 × 9 5/16 in. (29.2 × 23.7cm) 
Yale University Art Gallery, New Haven, Gift of the Estate of Katherine S. Dreier 
© Man Ray 2015 Trust / Artists Rights Society (ARS), NY / ADAGP, Paris 2025
Photo: Yale University Art Gallery, Gift of Collection Société Anonyme 

 

Man Ray (American, 1890-1976) 'Rayograph' 1923-1928

 

Man Ray (American, 1890-1976) 
Rayograph
1923-1928 
Gelatin silver print 
19 5/16 x 15 11/16 in. (49 x 39.8cm) 
The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, Gilman Collection, Purchase, The Horace W. Goldsmith Foundation Gift, through Joyce and Robert Menschel, 2005
Image © The Metropolitan Museum of Art, photo by Mark Morosse 
© Man Ray 2015 Trust / Artists Rights Society (ARS), NY / ADAGP, Paris 2025 

 

Man Ray (American, 1890-1976) 'Rayography' 1925

 

Man Ray (American, 1890-1976) 
Rayograph 
1925 
Gelatin silver print 
19 15/16 × 15 13/16 in. (50.6 × 40.2cm) 
MAH Musée d’art et d’histoire, City of Geneva. Purchase, 1968
© Man Ray 2015 Trust / Artists Rights Society (ARS), NY / ADAGP, Paris 2025
Photo © Musée d’art et d’histoire, Ville de Genève, photo by André Longchamp

 

 

American artist Man Ray (1890-1976) was a visionary known for his radical experiments that pushed the limits of photography, painting, sculpture, and film. In the winter of 1921, he pioneered the rayograph, a new twist on a technique used to make photographs without a camera. By placing objects on or near a sheet of light-sensitive paper, which he exposed to light and developed, Man Ray turned recognisable subjects into wonderfully mysterious compositions. Introduced in the period between Dada and Surrealism, the rayographs’ transformative, magical qualities led the poet Tristan Tzara to describe them as capturing the moments “when objects dream.”

The exhibition will be the first to situate this signature accomplishment in relation to Man Ray’s larger body of work of the 1910s and 1920s. Drawing from the collections of The Met and more than 50 U.S. and international lenders, the exhibition will feature approximately 60 rayographs and 100 paintings, objects, prints, drawings, films, and photographs – including some of the artist’s most iconic works – to highlight the central role of the rayograph in Man Ray’s boundary-breaking practice.

“Before my eyes an image began to form, not quite a simple silhouette of the objects as in a straight photograph, but distorted and refracted … In the morning I examined the results, pinning a couple of the rayographs – as I decided to call them – on the wall. They looked startlingly new and mysterious.” ~ Man Ray

Text from The Metropolitan Museum of Art website

 

Installation view of the exhibition 'Man Ray: When Objects Dream' at The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, September 2025 - February 2026
Installation view of the exhibition 'Man Ray: When Objects Dream' at The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, September 2025 - February 2026
Installation view of the exhibition 'Man Ray: When Objects Dream' at The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, September 2025 - February 2026
Installation view of the exhibition 'Man Ray: When Objects Dream' at The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, September 2025 - February 2026
Installation view of the exhibition 'Man Ray: When Objects Dream' at The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, September 2025 - February 2026
Installation view of the exhibition 'Man Ray: When Objects Dream' at The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, September 2025 - February 2026
Installation view of the exhibition 'Man Ray: When Objects Dream' at The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, September 2025 - February 2026
Installation view of the exhibition 'Man Ray: When Objects Dream' at The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, September 2025 - February 2026
Installation view of the exhibition 'Man Ray: When Objects Dream' at The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, September 2025 - February 2026
Installation view of the exhibition 'Man Ray: When Objects Dream' at The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, September 2025 - February 2026
Installation view of the exhibition 'Man Ray: When Objects Dream' at The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, September 2025 - February 2026
Installation view of the exhibition 'Man Ray: When Objects Dream' at The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, September 2025 - February 2026

 

Installation views of the exhibition Man Ray: When Objects Dream at The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, September 2025 – February 2026

 

Man Ray (American, 1890-1976)
'Torse (Retour à la raison)' (Torso [Return to Reason]) 1923, printed c. 1935

 

Man Ray (American, 1890-1976)
Torse (Retour à la raison) (Torso [Return to Reason])
1923, printed c. 1935
Gelatin silver print
8 1/4 × 6 3/8 in. (21 × 16.2cm)
Private collection
© Man Ray 2015 Trust / Artists Rights Society (ARS), NY / ADAGP, Paris 2025

 

In the 1923 silent short of the same title, Man Ray filmed barely discernible scenes of Paris at night along with his own enigmatic photograms and conglomerations of spiraling or gyrating objects. The resulting sequence of near-total abstractions seems devoid of sense or purpose. The “return to reason” in the film comes finally in the form of a woman’s torso – modelled by cabaret personality Kiki de Montparnasse – turning to and fro beside a rain-covered windowpane. Man Ray reproduced the seductive finale, as well as other moments from the film, as photographs, singly and in strips. A still from Man Ray’s film, this particular photograph appeared on its own in the first issue of the key avant-garde journal La Révolution surréaliste, in 1924.

Text from the Art Institute of Chicago website

 

 

Le retour à la raison (Return to Reason), Man Ray, 1923

 

 

Emak-Bakia (1926) – directed by Man Ray

Emak-Bakia (Basque for Leave me alone) is a 1926 film directed by Man Ray. Subtitled as a cinépoéme, it features many techniques Man Ray used in his still photography (for which he is better known), including rayographs, double exposure, soft focus and ambiguous features.

Emak-Bakia shows elements of fluid mechanical motion in parts, rotating artifacts showing his ideas of everyday objects being extended and rendered useless. Kiki of Montparnasse (Alice Prin) is shown driving a car in a scene through a town. Towards the middle of the film Jacques Rigaut appears dressed in female clothing and make-up. Later in the film a caption appears: “La raison de cette extravagance” (the reason for this extravagance). The film then cuts to a car arriving and a passenger leaving with briefcase entering a building, opening the case revealing men’s shirt collars which he proceeds to tear in half. The collars are then used as a focus for the film, rotating through double exposures.

The film features sculptures by Pablo Picasso, and some of Man Ray’s mathematical objects both still and animated using a stop motion technique.

Originally a silent film, recent copies have been dubbed using music taken from Man Ray’s personal record collection of the time. The musical reconstruction was by Jacques Guillot.

When the film was first exhibited, a man in the audience stood up to complain it was giving him a headache and hurting his eyes. Another man told him to shut up, and they both started to fight. The theatre turned into a frenzy, the fighting ended up out in the street, and the police were called in to stop the riot.

Emak bakia can also mean “give peace” (“emak” is the imperative form of the verb “eman”, which means “give”) in Basque.

Text from the YouTube website

 

 

L’étoile de mer, Man Ray, 1928

The film was based on Robert Desnon’s surrealist poem L’Étoile de mer.

 

 

The Met Presents First Major Exhibition on Man Ray’s Radical Reinvention of Art through the rayograph 

Featuring 160 rayographs, paintings, objects, prints, drawings, films, and photographs, Man Ray: When Objects Dream highlights the principal place of the rayograph – a type of cameraless photograph – within the context of many of the artist’s most important works 

This exhibition includes thirty-five works by Man Ray which are part of the major promised gift of nearly 200 works of Dada and Surrealist art from Trustee John Pritkzer 

Man Ray: When Objects Dream at The Metropolitan Museum of Art is the first major exhibition to examine the radical experimentation of American artist Man Ray (1890-1976) through one of his most significant bodies of work, the rayograph. Man Ray coined the term rayograph to name his version of the 19th-century technique of making photographs without a camera. He created them by placing objects on or near a sheet of light-sensitive paper, which he then exposed to light and developed. These photograms – as they are also called – appear as reversed silhouettes, or negative versions, of their subjects. They often feature recognisable items that become wonderfully mysterious in the artist’s hands. Their transformative nature led the Dada poet Tristan Tzara to describe rayographs as capturing the moments “when objects dream.” While Man Ray acknowledged the photographic origins of his new works, he did not think of them as strictly bound by medium. Taking Man Ray’s lead, this presentation is the first – more than a century since he introduced the rayograph – to situate this signature accomplishment in relation to his larger artistic output. The exhibition is on view September 14, 2025, through February 1, 2026. 

“As one of the most fascinating and multi-faceted artists in the avant-garde movements of the early 20th century, Man Ray challenged traditional narratives of modernism through his daring experimentation with diverse artistic mediums,” said Max Hollein, The Met’s Marina Kellen French Director and Chief Executive Officer. “Anchored by Man Ray’s innovative and mesmerising rayographs along with new research and discoveries, this exhibition invites visitors to explore his ground-breaking manipulation of objects, light, and media, which profoundly reframed his artistic practice and impacted countless other artists. We’re so thrilled to include thirty-five works by Man Ray in this exhibition as part of John’s incredible promised gift.” 

Drawing from the collections of The Met and more than 50 U.S. and international lenders, the presentation includes more than 60 rayographs, many of which were featured in important publications and exhibitions at the time of their making, and 100 paintings, objects, prints, drawings, collages, films, and photographs to highlight the central role of the rayograph in Man Ray’s boundary-breaking practice. The exhibition marks a collaboration with the recently closed Lens Media Lab, Yale University, under the direction of Paul Messier, and with photography conservators and curators at various lending institutions, to study more than fifty rayographs. 

In the winter of 1921, while working late in his Paris darkroom, Man Ray inadvertently produced a photogram by placing some of his glass equipment on top of an unexposed sheet of photographic paper he found among the prints in his developing tray. As he wrote in his 1963 autobiography, “Before my eyes an image began to form, not quite a simple silhouette of the objects as in a straight photograph, but distorted and refracted … In the morning I examined the results, pinning a couple of the rayographs – as I decided to call them – on the wall. They looked startlingly new and mysterious.” This supposed accident, now the stuff of legend, has obscured the fact that rayographs might be seen as the culmination of Man Ray’s work up to 1921 as well as the frame through which he would redefine his work thereafter. They harnessed his interests in working between dimensions, media, and artistic traditions, fittingly at the moment between Dada and Surrealism, which writer Louis Aragon once called the mouvement flou (flou means “hazy, blurry, or out of focus” in French). 

Unfolding in a series of spaces that intersect with a central, dramatic presentation of rayographs, the exhibition illuminates their connections with Man Ray’s work in other media, including assemblage, painting, photography, and film. In approaching the rayograph in this expansive way, the exhibition also offers a reappraisal of the most productive and creatively significant period of his long career, beginning in New York around 1915 with his ambitious paintings and concluding in Paris in 1929 with his fine-tuning of the solarization process with Lee Miller. A critical factor across the exhibition is the central role of objects for Man Ray’s career, both in the creation of many of the rayographs and in his work more generally.

At its core, Man Ray: When Objects Dream focuses new attention on some of the artist’s most recognised, but little-studied, works, most particularly the rayograph. The exhibition opens with Champs délicieux (Delicious Fields) (1922), a portfolio of 12 rayographs which marks the first time Man Ray presented his photograms to the public. Critics hailed them for putting photography on the same plane as original pictorial works. The presentation concludes with the working copy of Champs délicieux, which the artist canceled and dedicated to his friend, Dada artist Tristan Tzara, in 1959. 

Between these two works, twelve thematic sections of the exhibition explore such concepts as the silhouette, the dream, the body, the object, and the game, which are inspired by Man Ray’s experimentation with the rayograph. Other groupings will focus on specific media and techniques, and the artist’s studio, as well as watershed moments in the artist’s production, such as the years of 1923 and 1929, when Man Ray unexpectedly returned to painting. Three of his newly restored films, Retour à la raison (Return to Reason) (1923), Emak Bakia (1926), and L’étoile de mer (The Starfish) (1928), will be screened within the exhibition. 

Highlights include such iconic objects like Man Ray’s iron studded with tacks, known as Cadeau (Gift) (1921), and his metronome, Object to be Destroyed (1923), that keeps time with the swinging eye of his companion, the photographer Lee Miller. Celebrated photographs, including his landmark Le violon d’Ingres (1924), in which the torso of the artist and performer Kiki de Montparnasse (Alice Prin) is depicted as a musical instrument, are also featured. The exhibition brings together some of his boldest but most refined experimental works – compositions like Aerograph (1919), a painting made with an airbrush and pigment sprayed through and around items from his studio. For Man Ray, objects could function as metaphors for the body, as demonstrated in works such as Catherine Barometer (1920) and L’homme (Man). Rarely seen paintings in the exhibition, including Paysage suédois (Swedish Landscape) (1926) record the artist’s great experimentation, working paint without a brush and in an almost sculptural way, building up and scraping down the surface that reflects his experiments in the darkroom.

Man Ray: When Objects Dream is curated by Stephanie D’Alessandro, Leonard A. Lauder Curator of Modern Art and Senior Research Coordinator in Modern and Contemporary Art at The Met, and Stephen C. Pinson, Curator in the Department of Photographs at The Met, with the assistance of Micayla Bransfield, Research Associate, Modern and Contemporary Art.

Press release from The Metropolitan Museum of Art

 

Man Ray (American, 1890-1976) 'La Femme (Woman)' c. 1918-1920

 

Man Ray (American, 1890-1976) 
La Femme (Woman)
c. 1918-1920
Gelatin silver print
43.7 x 33.5cm (17 3/16 x 13 3/16in.)
Gilman Collection, Gift of The Howard Gilman Foundation, 2005
© 2016 Man Ray Trust/Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York/ADAGP, Paris

 

Man Ray (American, 1890-1976) 'L'homme (Man)' 1918-1920

 

Man Ray (American, 1890-1976) 
L’homme (Man
1918-1920 
Gelatin silver print 
19 × 14 1/2 in. (48.3 × 36.8cm) 
The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, Bluff Collection, Promised Gift of John A. Pritzker
© Man Ray 2015 Trust / Artists Rights Society (ARS), NY / ADAGP, Paris 2025
Photo credit: Courtesy of The Bluff Collection, photo by Ben Blackwell

 

Man Ray (American, 1890-1976) 
'Élevage de poussière (Dust Breeding)' 1920

 

Man Ray (American, 1890-1976) 
Élevage de poussière (Dust Breeding)
1920
Gelatin silver print
2 13/16 × 4 5/16 in. (7.1 × 11 cm)
Private collection
© Man Ray 2015 Trust / Artists Rights Society (ARS), NY / ADAGP, Paris 2025

 

Man Ray (American, 1890-1976) 'Marchesa Luisa Casati' 1922

 


Man Ray (American, 1890-1976) 
Marchesa Luisa Casati 
1922 
Gelatin silver print 
8 1/2 × 6 9/16 in. (21.6 × 16.7 cm) 
Philadelphia Museum of Art: Gift of Carl Van Vechten
© Man Ray 2015 Trust / Artists Rights Society (ARS), NY / ADAGP, Paris 2025
Photo courtesy of the Philadelphia Museum of Art

 

Installation view of the exhibition 'Man Ray: When Objects Dream' at The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, September 2025 - February 2026 showing at centre, Man Ray's photograph 'Le violon d'Ingres' 1924

 

Installation view of the exhibition Man Ray: When Objects Dream at The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, September 2025 – February 2026 showing at centre, Man Ray’s photograph Le violon d’Ingres 1924 (below)

 

Man Ray (American, 1890-1976) 'Le violon d’Ingres' 1924

 

Man Ray (American, 1890-1976) 
Le violon d’Ingres
1924 
Gelatin silver print 
19 1/8 × 14 3/4 in. (48.5 × 37.5cm)
The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, Bluff Collection, Promised Gift of John A. Pritzker
© Man Ray 2015 Trust / Artists Rights Society (ARS), NY / ADAGP, Paris 2025
Photo by Ian Reeves

 

Man Ray (American, 1890-1976) 'Self-Portrait in 31 bis rue Campagne-Premiere Studio' 1925

 

Man Ray (American, 1890-1976) 
Self-Portrait in 31 bis rue Campagne-Première Studio
1925 
Gelatin silver print 
6 1/8 × 4 1/2 in. (15.6 × 11.4cm) 
The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, Bluff Collection, Promised Gift of John A. Pritzker
© Man Ray 2015 Trust / Artists Rights Society (ARS), NY / ADAGP, Paris 2025
Photo by Ian Reeves

 

Man Ray (American, 1890-1976) 'Noire et blanche' 1926

 

Man Ray (American, 1890-1976)
Noire et blanche
1926
Gelatin silver print
8 1/16 x 11 11/16 in. (20.5 x 29.7cm)
Private collection
© Man Ray 2015 Trust / Artists Rights Society (ARS), NY / ADAGP, Paris 2025

 

Man Ray (American, 1890-1976) 'Primat de la matière sur la pensée' (Primacy of Matter over Thought) 1929

 

Man Ray (American, 1890-1976)
Primat de la matière sur la pensée (Primacy of Matter over Thought)
1929
Gelatin silver print
10 1/2 x 14 7/8 in. (26.7 x 37.8cm)
Private collection, San Francisco
© Man Ray 2015 Trust / Artists Rights Society (ARS), NY / ADAGP, Paris 2025

 

Man Ray (American, 1890-1976) 'Lee Miller' 1929

 

Man Ray (American, 1890–1976) 
Lee Miller 
1929 
Gelatin silver print 
10 1/2 × 8 1/8 in. (26.7 × 20.6cm) 
The Museum of Modern Art, New York, Gift of James Thrall Soby 
© Man Ray 2015 Trust / Artists Rights Society (ARS), NY / ADAGP, Paris 2025

 

Man Ray (American, 1890-1976) 'Self-Portrait with Camera' 1930

 

Man Ray (American, 1890-1976)
Self-Portrait with Camera
1930
Gelatin silver print
4 3/4 x 3 1/2 in. (12.1 x 8.9cm)
The Jewish Museum, New York
Purchase: Photography Acquisitions Committee Fund, Horace W. Goldsmith Fund, and Gift of Judith and Jack Stern
© Man Ray 2015 Trust / Artists Rights Society (ARS), NY / ADAGP, Paris 2025

 

Man Ray (American, 1890-1976) 'Mary Gill' 1930

 

Man Ray (American, 1890-1976)
Mary Gill
1930
Gelatin silver print
11 1/2 x 8 1/2 in. (29.2 x 21.6cm)
Harvard Art Museums/Fogg Museum, Robert M. Sedgwick II Fund
© Man Ray 2015 Trust / Artists Rights Society (ARS), NY / ADAGP, Paris 2025

 

Man Ray (American, 1890-1976)
'Untitled (Glass Tears)' c. 1930-1933, printed 1935 or later

 

Man Ray (American, 1890-1976)
Untitled (Glass Tears)
c. 1930-1933, printed 1935 or later
Gelatin silver print
8 7/8 x 11 1/4 in. (22.5 x 28.6cm)
Private collection
© Man Ray 2015 Trust / Artists Rights Society (ARS), NY / ADAGP, Paris 2025

 

 

Man Ray: When Objects Dream

American artist Man Ray (1890-1976) was a visionary known for his radical experimentation that pushed the limits of art. His most iconic works – an iron studded with sharp tacks, a woman’s back reimagined as a violin – combine this boundary-breaking attitude with a singular belief in the transformative potential of everyday things. 

In the 1920s, the most significant of Man Ray’s investigations – and the thing that connected much of his work – was what he called the rayograph, a new twist on an old technique for making photographs without a camera. By placing objects on or near a sheet of sensitised paper, which he then exposed to light and developed, he turned recognisable subjects into wonderfully mysterious compositions. This radical art form, inextricably linked to the era’s Dada and Surrealist movements, grew out of his early work in New York and redefined his groundbreaking career in Paris.

Introduction

This exhibition’s subtitle, When Objects Dream, comes from a phrase by Tristan Tzara, a poet, artist, and early champion of Man Ray. Witness to some of the earliest rayographs, Tzara understood perhaps better than anyone else their physical and metaphorical link to objects reimagined through art. In a similar spirit, the current presentation reconsiders the role of the rayograph within Man Ray’s practice, especially its ability to extend his ideas across diverse media. The loosely chronological installation unfolds across a series of interconnected galleries organized around ideas that motivated the artist; to that end, visitors are invited to explore it in any number of ways.

All works in the exhibition are by Man Ray (American, 1890-1976).

Champs délicieux

In April 1922, readers of a French literary journal discovered a curious announcement for an album titled Champs délicieux (Delicious Fields). Its twelve “original photographs” by Man Ray feature objects from his studio – tongs, a comb, string, a hotel room key – composed in groupings. The images are ordered without clear logic or narrative. Instead, as advertised, they mark a “state of mind,” the artist’s free play, alone at night and without work obligations, in his studio darkroom. 

Man Ray introduced Champs délicieux in the period between two revolutionary movements that arose in the wake of World War I: Dada and Surrealism. Both challenged conventional art and society by upending traditional subjects, techniques, and expectations. Inspired in part by a collection of unconsciously driven, automatic writings by poets André Breton and Philippe Soupault, Man Ray sought to render everyday objects unfamiliar. As early subscriptions attest, the album found an enthusiastic audience who appreciated the language of the rayograph and its ability to open up a new visual world.

A New Art

Before Man Ray first picked up a camera in 1915, he was focused on painting. He set out to stake his claim in the exhilarating avant-garde scene, his interest fueled by cutting-edge exhibitions at Alfred Stieglitz’s gallery, 291, and thrilling examples of Cubism, Expressionism, Fauvism, and Futurism at the modern art presentation known as The Armory Show in 1913. Unexpectedly, photography offered Man Ray a path forward. Noting the way a camera lens could compress and flatten space, he determined to endow art with a similar “concentration of life” while simultaneously freeing it from the burden of illusionism. “The creative force and the expressiveness of painting,” he wrote at the time, “reside materially in the colour and texture of pigment, in the possibilities of form invention and organisation, and in the flat plane on which these elements are brought to play.” He made paintings using palette knives and other tools instead of brushes and employed patterns, cutouts, and collage to create a self-proclaimed “new art of two dimensions.”

Objects At Hand

NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR GOODS LEFT OVER THIRTY DAYS. So reads a sign in a photo, displayed nearby, of Man Ray’s West Eighth Street studio in New York. It was one of several items the artist discovered in the trash heap at his apartment building and brought up to his top-floor space. He considered retooling the sign to read LEFT OVER GOODS NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THIRTY DAYS but decided it was perfect as is. This act – of elevating junk to art – is a familiar one in histories of the avant-garde, especially for the Dada movement. Art did not have to be painted or modelled or made with traditional materials and tools; it could be found in the everyday world and appreciated for the idea that it introduced, not for its beauty. 

As Man Ray developed his “new art,” he came to see the latent potential of all the objects within his studio. This spurred further investigations that likewise tested the limits of two and three dimensions and blurred the boundaries between media. At the same time, he continued to explore how the camera could be used not only to document his work but to open new perspectives onto ordinary objects and their creative possibilities.

Clichés-verre

While the rayograph is often described as Man Ray’s first experiment with cameraless photography, that moment occurred years earlier. Around 1917 he explored several photographically based techniques, including the cliché-verre, or “glass-plate” print. A nineteenth-century reproductive process that incorporates both photography and printmaking, a cliché-verre is traditionally made by covering a plate of glass with a darkened medium and drawing into it to produce clear lines. When set onto sensitised paper and exposed to a light source, the plate transmits the scratched away areas as dark lines. Man Ray chose to incise directly into the emulsion of an exposed photographic plate, which he then subjected to light again with paper below it to make a contact print. 

Photography

Man Ray first picked up a camera in 1915, to document his art. Through this experience, he discovered that the works acquired new qualities when reproduced in black and white. He made photographic portraits, too, which in Paris would become a dependable source of income. Revelling in the camera’s transformative optical abilities, Man Ray soon used it as a tool to facilitate his self-appointed role as a “marvellous explorer of those aspects that our retinas will never record.” He sought to reveal the creative potential of objects in his studio and in 1918 began a series of photographs using specifically arranged everyday items.

Aerographs

Still grappling with how to paint without a brush, Man Ray found inspiration at his day job working for an advertising agency, where he was introduced to an airbrush. He later brought the equipment back to his attic studio and began to experiment. Using an air compressor, the artist directed pigment through stencils and around masked areas and objects, which he rested on the composition board and repositioned as he worked. “It was thrilling,” he would later recount, “to paint a picture, hardly touching the surface – a purely cerebral act.” These works, which he termed “aerographs” were made, in effect, before they hit the paper. Objects were carved, shaped, and modeled in the air. Voids register as substance, and what we see on the paper is residue fused to the surface. “I tried above all,” Man Ray explained, “to create three-dimensional paintings on two-dimensional surfaces.”

Flou

Man Ray introduced his rayographs during a transitional period between the Dada and Surrealism movements that the French writer Louis Aragon called the mouvement flou – flou translating to “blurry” or “out of focus.” The term also suits these works, which viewers initially deemed curious and captivating but difficult to pin down. Rayographs, as cameraless photographs, exist in an indistinct place between photography and painting, the mechanical and the handmade, documentation and dream. 

During the 1920s Man Ray also explored blurriness in his camera images. Even as technical improvements facilitated increased focus and detail, and the preference for sharp photographs grew, he generally pursued a flattering, soft-focus technique in his growing business of portrait commissions. At other times, he sought more radical effects, which the director Claude Heymann described as “strange, troubling blurs” produced “through distortions, prolonged poses or special focusing techniques.” The anomalies in the resulting photographs are visible signs of the effort and time Man Ray spent to realise the images – even if he later called them unplanned or accidental.

A New Field of Gravity

In his preface introducing the album Champs délicieux (Delicious Fields), Tristan Tzara remarked that rayographs “present to space an image that exceeds it, and the air, with its clenched fists and superior intelligence, seizes it and holds it next to its heart.” Indeed, objects in Man Ray’s images beckon us in but keep us thrillingly at the edge – or put another way, they test our senses of proximity and location. His experiments in New York expanded the bounds of the photograph, object, painting, and installation, and he developed a novel relationship between object and viewer. These works demonstrate in their construction what the French writer Georges Ribemont-Dessaignes would identify in the artist’s rayographs as a “new field of gravity.”

The rayograph

The term rayograph designates Man Ray’s version of a technique for making photographs without a camera: by setting objects on or near sensitised paper and exposing it to light. In his autobiography, the artist described happening upon the process by chance, late one night, while developing prints in his makeshift darkroom. For subjects, he looked no further than the things in his studio. When exposed to a directed flash of light, they appear as reversed silhouettes – but in Man Ray’s hands they also gained new life. The nature of the image depended on the items’ translucency, reflectivity, density, placement, and distance from the sheet, as well as the source and location of the illumination and the number of exposures. Surfaces could cast unexpected reflections or eclipse elements in darkness. Forms might multiply or transform. Sometimes Man Ray’s objects and the space between them acquired an insistent, compressed volume that registered on the paper. The resulting works present what writer Pierre Migennes described as a “metamorphosis of the most vulgar utensils.” Everyday things became wonderfully unfamiliar as Man Ray wielded light in the darkroom like a brush in paint.

As he prepared to launch his rayographs in Champs délicieux, Man Ray also considered how to disseminate them for reproduction in magazines. On November 1, 1922, he wrote to Harold Loeb, editor of Broom: “Each print is an original, no plate or duplicate exists, as the process is manipulated directly on the paper, like a drawing. If you could assure me that the … originals would be safely handled and returned, I shall gladly send them on [to Berlin]. If, however, you cannot guarantee their safe return, I can re-photograph them … which, while not having the intensity and contrast of the originals, would nevertheless reproduce well.” Loeb offered to transport them personally and published these four in Broom the following March.

Man Ray transformed and energised ordinary objects in his rayographs by tapping their powers of translucency or reflectance. Bodies and their proxies, however, remain stubbornly recognisable. Hands reach out, hold things, and interact with objects; heads turn to kiss and drink, even if the action might be staged. The artist’s rayographs tie the body to a kind of specificity that his objects do not experience; this might explain why there are fewer of these works with bodies than without. As Tristan Tzara explained in his appreciation of the rayographs in 1934, Man Ray approached objects in a manner that allowed them to be free “to dream.”

Dangerous Games

Reactions to Man Ray’s cameraless photographs consistently identified them with the realm of play. The first to comment on the rayograph was French poet Jean Cocteau, who wrote in an open letter, “You, my dear Man Ray, will nourish our minds with those dangerous games it craves.” He was soon joined by Tristan Tzara, who likened the rayograph to a “game of chess with the sun.” 

Man Ray had a strong sense of the game as a strategy for producing art. For him, play was a state of readiness to engage. This comes through in the provocative humour of his objects and collages and in the invitation to chance embedded in the rayograph process – the “discovery” of which, he recounted, entailed real amusement. Marcel Duchamp once playfully defined his friend as synonymous with the joy of the game: “MAN RAY, n.m. synon. de joie, jouer, jouir” (joy, to play, to enjoy).

Chemical Paintings

In April 1922, the same month that the Champs délicieux album was announced, Man Ray proudly reported to friends and patrons that he had freed himself “from the sticky medium of paint.” His rayographs claimed a rebellious position aimed at the traditional hierarchy of fine art – and particularly its apex, painting. Critics asserted they had equal status, and New York’s Little Review even called them “chemical paintings.”

Just a year later, however, while his rayograph production remained steady, Man Ray quietly returned to painting. The works here show how his practice had changed. Abstract and relatively small, they were made on commercially available boards, wood, sandpaper, or metal supports. With their overlapping pictorial elements and dramatic contrasts of luminosity and shadow, angled and geometric forms, the compositions emulate aspects of rayographs. Each is a thorough exploration of depth on a flat surface and a bid to make paint reflect its own material reality.

Objects and Bodies

Man Ray’s experience of making rayographs informed his consideration of the human body, which he handled, at times, like an object, devoid of personhood and open for manipulation. Writing about the artist’s portraits and rayographs, André Breton noted that Man Ray considered the bodies of women in his work no different from the objects at hand in his darkroom: 

The very elegant, very beautiful women who expose their tresses night and day to the fierce lights in Man Ray’s studios are certainly not aware that they are taking part in any kind of demonstration. How astonished they would be if I told them that they are participating for exactly the same reasons as a quartz gun, a bunch of keys, hoar-frost or fern!

For Man Ray, a body could function as a kind of concentrated equivalence, like the essence represented by an object. This attitude is visible in some of the most iconic works of his career, in which his presentation of female models such as the artist and performer Kiki de Montparnasse (Alice Prin) also involved darkroom manipulation. While his approach to men’s bodies was notably less sexualised, they too were posed and set up like the objects in his rayographs.

Darkroom Manoeuvres 

Like other pictures of Kiki de Montparnasse in this gallery, Le violon d’Ingres involved multiple darkroom campaigns. For the version published in Littérature, Man Ray worked on a print to sharpen the contours and smooth the forms; he added f-shaped sound holes directly onto it with dark ink. 

The version here, larger than the first, is the result of further experimentation. Man Ray covered the entire print with a mask from which he hand cut two f-shaped forms. He then made a second exposure, which turned the exposed spaces black. Instead of ink shapes that disrupt the surface, these marks read as deep, dark space compressed within the flat surface of the photograph. Man Ray described this version as “a combination of a photo and a rayograph.” As such, the f-holes are eerily – seamlessly – part of the woman’s body. She appears as a kind of dreamlike human-instrument hybrid, a whole object to be visually taken in and possessed.

Dreams

Even before the Surrealist manifesto of 1924 claimed the fertile ground of the unconscious, many poets and artists in Man Ray’s circle focused on dreams. The same group, two years earlier, had followed André Breton’s experiments with hypnosis and trance states. They practiced séances and so‑called sleeping fits, writing down or drawing what came to them in order to reveal hidden desires. The poet Louis Aragon wrote of these slumberous escapades: “Dreams, dreams, dreams, the domain of dreams expands with every step.” 

Apart from photographing the sleep sessions, Man Ray remained an independent supporter of the group, explaining, “It has never been my object to record my dreams, just the determination to realise them.” Even so, Aragon included him in his multipage inventory of dreamers, with a nod to the rayographs: “Man Ray … dreams in his own way with knife rests and salt cellars: he gives meaning to light, which now knows how to speak.” The artist found great support among the Surrealist circle in Paris, whose members acquired his work and included him in exhibitions and publications.

Dream Objects 

Man Ray’s dreamlike rayographs have counterparts in the new kinds of hybrid objects he began to make at the same time. These mysterious works seize upon unexpected transformations: a fragile soap bubble rendered solid; the taut strings on a musical instrument’s neck turned loose and sensuous; or a budding plant metamorphosed into a pudgy hand. 

The strange bundle wrapped with string has long been associated with the power of objects to stir the unconscious. In 1920 Man Ray assembled, photographed, and deconstructed the original object. The Untitled photograph appeared in the first issue of La revolution surréaliste, in 1924, with the text “Surrealism opens the door of the dream to all those for whom night is miserly.” Over the next decade, the image came to embody another phrase popular among the Paris Surrealist group, by the poet Isidore Ducasse: “as beautiful … as the chance encounter of a sewing machine and an umbrella on a dissecting table.” 

“Objects to touch, to eat, to crunch, to apply to the eye, to the skin, to press, to lick, to break, to grind, objects to lie, to flee from, to honor, things cold or hot, feminine or masculine, objects of day or night which absorb through your pores the greater part of our life. … These are the projections surprised in transparence, by the light of tenderness, of objects that dream and talk in their sleep.” (Tristan Tzara, “When Objects Dream,” 1934)

Returns

In 1929 Man Ray found himself “longing to touch paint again.” By the fall, he had taken a second Paris studio, near the Luxembourg Gardens, where he painted in the mornings before returning home to oversee photographic portraits and magazine work. In his new compositions, he let paint drip across a canvas from a poured line and squeezed pigment directly from the tube onto a support in a loose, calligraphic manner. Trading on narratives of chance and automatism, he later called these paintings “unpremeditated.” 

Another return accompanied the arrival in Paris of Lee Miller, who became Man Ray’s apprentice in photography and then his personal and professional partner. As a result, he again embraced the camera as his primary tool of photographic experimentation, after years of making rayographs without one. Together, Miller and Man Ray discovered a creative synergy that led to their joint development of the solarization process. The same year signalled the near culmination of Man Ray’s exploration of the rayograph: by some accounts, he made one hundred in 1922, but just one in 1929.

Solarization 

Together with Lee Miller, Man Ray developed a darkroom technique that complemented his return to painting. Like the rayograph, solarization was not entirely new, and both he and Miller claimed that it similarly resulted from an accident. The process involves exposing a negative a second time during development, which causes a reversal of the expected tonalities. Honed by Miller and Man Ray and applied to their portraits and nudes beginning in fall 1929, the process often endowed subjects with subtly glowing black contours that Miller called “halos.” This feature became so well-known – largely through reproductions of the solarized portrait of Miller shown nearby – that a 1932 article called it both “the beacon and despair of experimenters.” Like the drips and skeins in Man Ray’s 1929 paintings, these lines create a friction between the subject and surface of the image – a noted departure from the artist’s earlier approach to the flat plane.

Revisiting Champs délicieux 

Man Ray completed his Champs délicieux project nearly forty years after its debut. A handwritten inscription to Tristan Tzara in the final copy (number 41, displayed here) refers to the sparks set off by their initial exploration of the rayograph; he added an almost identical inscription in his 1922 working copy. This suggests a Dada game between the two artists: the announcement laid out the rules and the inscriptions signified its end. 

As promised in the 1922 first announcement of the album, the last copy features the canceled proofs (a practice meant to show that no further prints can be made from the originals). A canceled print edition is not unusual. In this case, however, a purposeful ambiguity was in play from the beginning of the project – when it was presented as an album of “original photographs” copied from unique rayographs – to the end. Only the negatives used to produce the album were canceled, meaning that the primary rayographs might still exist. Ever the prankster, Man Ray ensured that the game continues.

Text from The Metropolitan Museum of Art

 

Man Ray (American, 1890-1976) 'Legend' 1916

 

Man Ray (American, 1890-1976) 
Legend 
1916 
Oil on canvas 
52 × 36 in. (132.1 × 91.4 cm) 
Collection of Deborah and Edward Shein
© Man Ray 2015 Trust / Artists Rights Society (ARS), NY / ADAGP, Paris 2025
Photo by Stephen Petegorsky

 

Man Ray (American, 1890-1976) 'Boardwalk' 1917

 

Man Ray (American, 1890-1976) 
Boardwalk 
1917 
Oil, wood handles, and yarn on wood 
26 9/16 × 29 × 15/16 in. (67.4 × 73.6 × 2.4cm) 
Staatsgalerie Stuttgart, acquired 1973 with Lotto Funds
© Man Ray 2015 Trust / Artists Rights Society (ARS), NY / ADAGP, Paris 2025

 

Man Ray (American, 1890-1976) 'By Itself I' 1918

 

Man Ray (American, 1890-1976) 
By Itself I 
1918 
Wood, iron, and cork 
17 1/4 × 7 11/16 × 7 5/16 in. (43.8 × 19.5 × 18.6cm) 
LWL–Museum für Kunst und Kultur, Münster, Germany 
© Man Ray 2015 Trust / Artists Rights Society (ARS), NY / ADAGP, Paris 2025 

 

Man Ray (American, 1890-1976) 'ANPOR' 1919

 

Man Ray (American, 1890-1976) 
ANPOR 
1919 
Gouache, ink, and colored pencils on paper 
15 1/2 × 11 1/2 in. (39.4 × 29.2cm) 
Collection of Gale and Ira Drukier
© Man Ray 2015 Trust / Artists Rights Society (ARS), NY / ADAGP, Paris 2025 
Image © The Metropolitan Museum of Art, photo by Bruce Schwarz

 

Man Ray (American, 1890-1976) 'Aerograph' 1919

 

Man Ray (American, 1890-1976)
Aerograph
1919
Gouache on paperboard
26 3/8 x 19 11/16 in. (67 x 50cm)
Staatsgalerie Stuttgart, Graphische Sammlung, acquired 1987
© Man Ray 2015 Trust / Artists Rights Society (ARS), NY / ADAGP, Paris 2025

 

Man Ray (American, 1890-1976) 'Catherine Barometer' 1920

 

Man Ray (American, 1890-1976) 
Catherine Barometer 
1920 
Glass, metal, felt, washboard, tube, wire, wood, steel wool, gouache on paper, and paper stamp 
48 1/8 × 12 × 2 1/8 in. (122.2 × 30.5 × 5.4cm) 
The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, Bluff Collection, Promised Gift of John A. Pritzker 
Photo courtesy of The Bluff Collection, photo by Ian Reeves

 

Man Ray (American, 1890-1976) 'Cadeau (Gift)' 1921 reconstructed 1970 (installation view)

 

Man Ray (American, 1890-1976)
Cadeau (Gift) (installation view)
1921 reconstructed 1970
Iron with brass tacks and wooden base
Overall: 19.0 x 14.9 x 14.9cm; iron & base: 17.9 x 14.9 x 14.9cm; glass cover: 19.0cm (h.)
Photo: © Marcus Bunyan

An example of this art work, not the actual one in the exhibition

 

Man Ray (American, 1890-1976) 'Paysage suedois' (Swedish Landscape) 1926

 

Man Ray (American, 1890-1976) 
Paysage suédois (Swedish Landscape
1926 
Oil on canvas 
18 × 25 1/2 in. (45.7 × 64.8 cm) 
The Mayor Gallery, London
© Man Ray 2015 Trust / Artists Rights Society (ARS), NY / ADAGP, Paris 2025
Photo courtesy of The Mayor Gallery, London

 

Man Ray (American, 1890-1976) 'Torso' 1929

 

Man Ray (American, 1890-1976) 
Torso 
1929 
Oil and gouache on gold foil paper on canvas 
18 1/16 × 14 15/16 in. (45.9 × 38 cm) 
The Penrose Collection
© Man Ray 2015 Trust / Artists Rights Society (ARS), NY / ADAGP, Paris 2025
Image © The Metropolitan Museum of Art, photo by Mark Morosse 

 

 

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