During the trip, I went to several photography exhibits. (And after we left Paris, L joined me.) Only two days were by plan; the rest were serendipitous, sort of a mini-theme of the French part of the trip. Here are some thoughts I had in connection with the exhibits. (I should note that the Musée d'Orsay has an excellent web site and that they provide scans of many of their photographs, for which I am very appreciative.)
Several of the exhibits contained modern prints from old negatives, alongside original prints by the same photographer. In each case there were some striking differences between the two types of prints, but not necessarily the same differences from one exhibit to another. What wasn't clear was what the cause of the differences, and unfortunately, none of the exhibits had two prints from the same negative, nor was there any comment about the differences. I do have some speculation, though, about the causes.
The first example I saw was at the Musée d'Orsay (see below), which had both kinds of prints from (glass plate) negatives taken by Lewis Carroll. In this case, the original (albumen) prints seem blacker than the modern prints, which have a slightly brownish (though not fully sepia) tinge. In this case, I think the modern print has been deliberately been made with the brownish tinge, perhaps to imitate the sepia look. Some examples follow. I have also provided a digitally made positive image from one of Carroll's negatives for comparison. Since it is from a wet plate negative, as is the modern print in the Musée d'Orsay, the difference in color tone probably is not due to the two different types of negatives.
Modern and original prints of photos by Willy Maywald at the Musée Carnavalet (see below) show other differences. The modern prints seemed lighter and sharper (more contrast?) than his originals, which were also slightly grayer than the modern prints. (Examples not available online.)
Prints in the Tommasoli exhibit in Verona (see below) also showed a similar difference in contrast, with the modern prints being sharper than the originals. In addition, all of the modern prints were black and white, while many of the original prints were sepia, gold, or even green. (Examples not available online.) Here, I suspect that what is going on is that there is a modern sensibility showing up in the modern prints, since there is a strong preference for very sharp photos (which I share) in our current aesthetic. On the other hand, the use of toned processes in "art" photography is in disfavor, largely being reserved for sepia toned photos for costumeed souvenirs or amateur photos for family consumption. The Tommasoli exhibit had perhaps the best opportunity for comparing original and modern prints, since it drew from an extensive archive of a family of photographers, with the modern prints being done by a member of the family.
Another place where I could have looked for differences between original and modern prints was at the Clergue exhibit in Arles (see below). Unfortunately, I was so taken with the styles and content that I forgot to look for these differences. It's too bad I wasn't paying closer attention.
Here's a summary of the differences between original and modern prints across the exhibits:
Given the differences among the differences, I am inclined to think that the differences between original and modern prints are due to the goals and/or aesthetics of the modern printer. At the Musée d'Orsay, they may have wanted to create prints similar to other old sepia prints (even though Lewis Carroll's albumen prints weren't sepia). In the case of the Maywald and Tommasoli, current aesthetics probably influenced the modern prints. A bit of supporting evidence is that one of the Tommasoli photographers reprinted his own photographs late in his career and they are no sharper than his earlier prints. As for the lack of sharpness differences in prints from Lewis Carroll, that is probably due to the larger size of the glass negatives allowing for sharp prints at the given sizes.
This was one of the serendipitous exhibits — I didn't know about the exhibit when I decided to go to the Musée d'Orsay.
The Musée d'Orsay came late to collecting photography, only doing it for the past 20 years, since just after the collections moved to their current location in 1986. Making a virtue of a necessity, they have largely focused on acquiring lesser known works by important photographers. As I mentioned above, they have done a very good job at making the photographs available online. What follows are some of the photos that I noted for one reason or another.
Panorama photos have seen recent revival due to software that lets people "stitch" together several individual photos to form a panorama. Earlier passions for panoramas (usually) involved special cameras and/or techniques. I was thus surprised to see this panorama made from multiple daguerreotypes, even though I had seen print panoramas done in the same fashion.
I found it fascinating that someone could apparently plan this pair of photographs in the middle of a revolution.
This photograph shows, I think, that fairly early on photography as an art was taking a different route from painting. Of course, there are a couple assumptions underlying that statement. One assumption is that this scene would not have been painted at that time. Another assumption is that the photograph was taken as "art," perhaps for the forms in it, rather than for documentary purposes, e.g. as part of an architectural study. I think both assumptions are reasonable, especially the latter.
It was fun to see two old photos of Stanley Park here in Vancouver, even if the photos themselves aren't that great.
These are actually cutouts from enlargements. There were also collages and photo montages from this time period that I didn't note down. I had thought they were a 20th century phenomenon.
Autochrome was an early color photography process invented by the Lumière brothers (ironically, lumière means "light" in French). The proces involved forming a composite from 3 monochrome photos taken with different filters (red, green, and blue). See this site for more information.
A semi-serendipitous exhibit — the Musée Carnavalet is primarily a about the history of Paris, but they also have relevant photographic exhibits. This one, which opened the day I was there, on Willy Maywald, a German emigrant who did a lot of fashion photography. However, this exhibit focused primarily on his pictures of Paris. Not surprisingly, I found most of the pictures of interest from a documentary point of view rather than an aesthetic one. In other words, they were interesting because of what they showed about Paris rather than because they were examples of beautiful photographs, though of course there were some exceptions. Here are two photographs that I got as postcards, one for me, and one for G, a friend, very good amateur photographer, and Paris-phile.
One lesson to be drawn from Maywald's career is that you've gotta schmooze. During World War II, Maywald was in a variety of detention camps, first in German-occupied France as an emigrant who hadn't returned to Germany and hence suspect, and later in Switzerland, as a foreigner. But even in those camps he was making connections with patrons for after the war. Amazing. He continued his schmoozing after the war, most famously hooking up with Christian Dior.
G recommended the Maison Européenne de la Photographie, but warned me that it was hit or miss, and it was mostly miss. There were 5 small exhibitions, but I skipped one of them (on cars) that was of no interest to me. I probably could have skipped another one, but I'm a glutton for punishment.
Kalvar is a past president of the elite photographers agency Magnum Photo, and the most prominent of the exhibitors. This show/project (there's an accompanying book, more than a catalog) is a humorous and ironic look at people (the "Terriens"), and it works at that level. This was the only decent exhibit.
Digital video that uses computer models as well as interactivity via motion-tracking. Interesting for a few minutes to figure how it was being done, but that's about it.
I didn't get this one at all. Memento mori is Latin for "Remember that you will die" and is apparently and artistic sub-genre. Maybe if I'd known that before I saw the show it would have made a difference, but I doubt it.
Let's see: paw through celebreties' trash, arrange it "artistically," then photograph it. What's the point? This was full of tabloid voyeurism (as opposed to the sophisticated voyeurism of people by better photographers) and pretend sociology. This was my glutton for punishment exhibit.
Another serendipitous exhibition ...
Simply put, I was blown away by Clergue's work shown in this exhibit. When I see most photographic art, including photographs by famous photographers, in my arrogant naïvete I think, "I could do that, or at least come close." I did not think that in looking at this exhibit.
The exhibit was organized into 4 thematic spaces, not really rooms, since some were double or triple rooms. The first two spaces, and especially the first one, were amazing. I was bowled over by the tremendous range of styles and subjects, from abstract nature to staged to dead animals (not my favorite) to portraits to nudes. The third space was devoted just to bullfights and bullfighters, while the fourth had photo-montages and multiple exposure experimental works. Many of the images have not been published; it wasn't clear if some were printed for the first time here or not.
I really liked a lot of his abstract nature images (like the Maïs photo in the page linked above). As with many other photographers, he has an inspirational area that he keeps returning to. Just as Ansel Adams had Yosemite, Clergue has the Camargue, the marshy delta of the Rhône just south of Arles, the town where he grew up and where he is based even today.
As much as I like many (though not all) of his themes, I keep coming back to the astounding variety in his work. Many photographers are known, rightly so, for one particular kind of work, even if they do others. Ansel Adams, for example, is most known for his scenic photographs, even though he did portraits and commercial (industrial) photography as well. Just about any of Clergue's themes or styles would be enough to satisfy most people, but he has explored, and continues to explore, many different themes, while still returning to favorites, such as the Camargue and nudes (sometimes in combination). He was also the first person to get a doctorate in photography (1979), and he has done a lot to support the arts, and especially photography, in Arles. Absolutely amazing.
A few more thoughts:
The Centro Internazionale dei Fotographia Scavi Scaligeri usually has an interesting show, so we go there whenever we're in Verona and they're open. This exhibit showed three generations of photographers from a local family, the Tommasolis, with photos from the family archives. It was interesting to see the changes in styles and tastes across the generations. The third generation isn't really at the same level as the first two, though.
There were two outstanding images in the show. One was the image used as the symbol of the show (see above). It is very striking, but it was also anomalous since there were no other photographs with a similar technique. The other outstanding image was a self-portrait by the Silvio Tommasoli, the first generation. The image has a green tint, and perhaps due to a combination of the glass cover and the lighting reflecting off it, the image gave the impression of being almost 3 dimensional, in a similar way to a daguerreotype.
Both Silvio and his two sons, Filippo and Fausto, did some nudes. However, while Silvio did conventional nudes, the sons apparently preferred their nudes clothed.