Dominic Van Horn History of Photography 11/10/07

Alfred Stieglitz Published by Phaidon press and edited by Graham Clarke, Alfred Stieglitz presents the reader with a view of the photographer Alfred Stieglitz as an influential photographer, writer, publisher, and gallery operator, although the scope and presentation of the book at times falls short of this purpose. The book is a text in praise of Stieglitz and his accomplishments for the practice of photography, as well as his influence on other art makers, and the organization of the book reflects this. The first section of the book is an essay by Clarke outlining biographical information about Stieglitz as well as presenting the conceptual and formal development of Stieglitzs photography. The essay leans heavily towards outright praise and admiration, with little criticism offered. The remainder of the book is a collection of Stieglitzs most exemplary and definitive images, organized roughly chronologically. Most images are accompanied by text by the editor which reveals the conceptual or formal concerns of the individual image, relates it to some of Stieglitzs other work, or relates it to the work of other photographers or artists. This accompanying text, in conjunction with the introductory text, creates a context in which the viewer is directed to read the images as the editor does, leaving the viewer without the option to view the work without the editors biased contextual influence. The rigidly constructed context that the book creates is problematic for the viewer, as the only arguments being made for Stieglitzs importance are written by the editor.

Widening the scope of the materials included in the book beyond simply Stieglitzs photography may have created a more objective approach to rendering Stieglitz as an important figure in photography and the art world. As Clarke mentions, Stieglitz was a prolific writer and theorist on photography, producing some 260 essays and reviews none of which are included. With so much written on the subject by the photographer himself, it seems grossly ignorant to leave out texts which the reader could use themselves to create context for the work shown in the book. Edifying as well, although perhaps to a lesser degree, would be both samples from the magazine Stieglitz published, Camera Work, as well as views and images of the various galleries Stieglitz owned and operated (291, The Intimate Gallery, An American Place). Instead of interjecting his own opinions or research throughout the book, the editor may have presented stronger arguments as to the importance of Stieglitz by presenting the viewer with Stieglitzs work and allowing the viewer to draw their own conclusions. Regardless, it is difficult to deny the importance of Stieglitzs accomplishments, as a photographer and otherwise. Stieglitz did more to advance the cause of photography as Art than any photographer of his time in his images, essays, and galleries. His cause creates an interesting tension in his work, because while Stieglitz purported to be after truth in his photography, the truth he referred to was that of the metaphorical and spiritual essence referred to in classic art. In addition, Stieglitzs notion of truth was a subjective one, and therefore it is not difficult to view many of Stieglitzs images as self portraits, reflections of his own beliefs. This tendency is visible in Stieglitzs choice of subject matter, and how those choices changed as time passed and his career progressed.

Early in his work, Stieglitz photographed people on the level of the street, reveling in the wonderful world of the modern city, which Stieglitz saw as a youthful place, full of hope and idealism ideas close to Stieglitzs own heart. He saw parts of himself in Paris and Berlin during his studies and travels in the late 19th century, but truly found himself back in New York City, a city so consciously striving to be a model of the new, of the antitraditional. What Stieglitz saw in the birth of Modern New York was promise and potential, a great human will carving out vertical spaces in the sky with clean lines that bore little resemblance to the columns of antiquity. Of early street scenes like The Terminal (1893), Stieglitz said, There seemed to be something closely related to my deepest feeling in what I saw, and I decided to photograph what was within me. Stieglitzs methodology and philosophy closely reflect Cartier-Bresson to come, with his idea of the decisive moment the moment when the formal and emotion elements are at their climax, but where CartierBresson spoke of the emotional elements of a specific scene, the emotional aspect for Stieglitz was always his own feelings. Many of Stieglitzs early street scenes have a sort of flaneur quality about them, so that the figures Stieglitz photographs refer back to Stieglitz himself, who walked the streets of Paris and New York with a handheld camera, leisurely taking in the sights of the city. During the early part of the 20th century, a change begins to slowly emerge in Stieglitzs photographs, noticeable in his choice, framing, and titling of subjects. Stieglitz first begins to take photographs of his subject from a greater distance, effectively minimizing or completely removing any human figures. This shift in framing reflects the alienation Stieglitz began to feel in the city as he saw materialism and greed growing through the place in which he once saw hope, saw himself. His reaction then, was to

remove the humans with which he once used as stand-ins for himself and photograph the city as a whole, as an abstract idea into which Stieglitz could still inject his beliefs. In The Hand of Man (1902/03), Stieglitz photographically recognizes the dirty reality of modern growth, neither celebrating it nor idealizing it. The image is dark, made mostly of grim blacks, silver strands of railroad tracks twisting through the darkness like veins supplying the city with its dark energy, the trains ashen plume rising ominously against the light grey sky. The tracks are contained on either side by telephone lines and the silhouettes of industrial buildings, modern creations which Stieglitz suggests are malicious. His title, The Hand of Man, lays blame for this ugly reality on man, who Stieglitz seems to suggest is a corruptor, a destroyer of beauty and truth. Stieglitz begins to retreat further away from the reality of what the city has become, photographing from windows, in his apartment or from his galleries, high above the city, detached enough to see the city he wishes to see, without the complexity of street level reality. Stieglitz also begins making more portraits of his close friends and his wife, Georgia OKeefe. Even in his photographs of others, though, there still remains the tendency of Stieglitz to make the subject a reflection of himself. Some of his subjects, like Arthur G. Dove, unknowingly allow this. Doves portrait bears more than passing resemblance to Stieglitzs own self-portrait of 1907, with the face mostly surrounded by darkness, focusing the viewer on the subjects sharp, determined expression the face of an artist with purpose. The portrait does not reveal Dove, but is a caricature of Stieglitz. Likewise, Stieglitzs later photograph of Dorothy Norman is not a photograph of Dorothy at all indeed only her hands are shown. Her hands rest on a 4x5 camera that Stieglitz has let her borrow, that Stieglitz is teaching her to use. The image, therefore, has little to do

with Dorothy herself, and more to do with Stieglitz and his control and influence over Dorothy. Control is a overarching issue in Stieglitzs portraiture. In his image of Rebecca Strand, wife of photographer Paul Strand, Stieglitz photographs only her torso, removing her face and much of her legs, trapping her within the frame of the image, not allowing her personality or self to be present in the image. Stieglitz wrote of Rebecca that she was a much more pliant and vital model than OKeefe. Georgia OKeefe, Stieglitzs wife, was often the subject of his photographs, but resisted more successfully than Stieglitzs other models his control and attempts to replace his model with himself. The images of OKeefe vary in composition and tone, and OKeefe never seems to be the same woman in any of the images. In a 1918 portrait, she confronts the camera directly, albeit with a disinterested gaze, while her hands block access to her body. Her body, or at least her torso and legs are shown in full nude in a 1919 portrait, her frame arched as if proudly displaying her form. Linen and curtains in the background formally reference the softness of her skin and the delicacy of femininity while her pose suggests a certain strength and confidence. That confidence is more fully expressed in a later 1919 portrait in which OKeefe once again confronts the camera, this time with a penetrating gaze that seems to inform the viewer (or the photographer) that what is within her is restricted and inaccessible. Her clothing, a large black cloak, emphasizes this point, as well as deemphasizes her femininity, revealing nothing of her form, giving no suggestion to the imagination, and her hair, pulled back tight, gives the viewer no curvilinear, feminine forms to admire. The portrait is an image of OKeefes refusal to be abstracted by her husband and an act of defiance against viewer expectations.

Stieglitzs home at Lake George was a retreat for him from the chaos of the city. Lake Georges natural landscape was a place Stieglitz could still interact closely with and find himself in; it allowed him to continue abstracting, to continue seeing reflections of himself and his feelings in the world around him. In Dancing Trees, Stieglitz photographs a group of trees, emphasizing their texture with a beautiful range of tones, using their branches as lines that flow through and out of the image, creating a semi-abstract photograph with a focus on geometry. Conceptually, the image (and its title) reflects the feeling of joy and energy that Stieglitz found in Lake George. Finally, turning his eyes and camera completely away from the world around him, Stieglitz looked to the sky, creating a series of cloud studies he called Equivalents. The subject matter seems to perfectly match Stieglitzs photographic intentions as the clouds offer little room for literal interpretation, taking on whatever feeling Stieglitz wished to imbue them with. The images are quiet and delicate, with a sense of vastness that is implied by the photographic framing of the sky, a thing we daily experience as a limitless entity. As Graham Clarke writes in the introduction to the book, the Equivalents displace, any sense of perspective or reference to a literal world, the eye looks into rather than at the images. Like all of Stieglitzs work, the images are not about clouds, not even as a formal element, but are about Stieglitzs feelings about life. The clouds, like the snow and rain and water Stieglitz often photographed, were simply a convenient vessel in which to place his emotions and thoughts because they were generally abstract enough to carry little meaning themselves and because they offered no resistance to his insertion of meaning. The book as a text about Stieglitz closely resembles his Modern approach to art making. There is a desire of Graham Clarke, the editor, to create a concrete narrative about

Stieglitz, as well as a desire to interject himself throughout the work so as present his own knowledge about the photographer. The book has a single meaning to be gained, and that is that Stieglitz was a very important and influential figure in the world of photography and art. There is no opportunity for complex narrative, nor is the reader allowed to draw his or her own conclusion about Stieglitz as a photographer. The book does succeed, however, in its methods, presenting the life and work of Alfred Stieglitz in such a way as to leave little doubt about his significance.

Images:

The Terminal

The Hand of Man

Self-Portrait

Rebecca Strand (not from the book, but similar)

Georgia OKeefe

Dancing Trees

Equivalent