We are in an age where the power of still, black-and-white photographs, is unknown to many now alive. Those of us who are older can remember the impact of such photos, whether in Life Magazine, its competitor, Look Magazine, or in other outlets.
One of the great geniuses of photo-journalism was Eugene Smith, born this day in Wichita Kansas in 1918. He would die in 1978 from the results of a massive stroke, caused mainly by his heavy use of amphetamines (he was truly a workaholic) and alcohol (and I experienced how much he could drink near the end of his life.
There is no easy way online to see his work, for which his heirs still retain copyright Let me provide this link, at which you can view a number of his most famous photographs. I suggest you open it in a separate window, so you go back and forth between my words and his artistry. I will also provide some links directly to the photos I am describing. If you simply want to read about Smith, you can click here
Smith traveled with Marines during their island-hopping across the Pacific in WW II. In the bio link above the fold there is one picture from Saipan. Marine Mop-up Following Japanese Suicide Charge
Saipan, 1944 is an example of his work from that period.
note - for any of these photographs you can click on the little magnifying glass to expand the picture, although the accompanying text will disappear.
Or how about this, Burial at Sea?
Then there is this untitled picture of a GI covering up during an artillery attack.
The Walk to Paradise Garden is one of Smith's most famous photos. It is of his own two children, and was part of the massive (over 500 photographs) "The Family of Man" at the Museum of Modern Art in 1955, organized by Edward Steichen and including work from almost 300 photographers from 68 nations around the world. Smith took the picture in 1946, the year I was born. Ponder it for a moment, for the innonence that comes through the photograph, and for me, the sense of exploration and wonderment being experienced by the two children.
Smith's photographs have an incredible ability to draw you in to what you are seeing, to connect you, as for me this one of a doctor caring for an injured child does. Keep this in mind for the final photograph I will share. And while we are looking at Dr. Ceriani, there is also this photo after he had lost a patient.
While still at Life, Smith was sent to Britain to cover the 1950 election, narrowly won by Labor. Still under control of conservative Henry Luce, Life editorially opposed Labor, yet did publish some of Smith's photos, including this one, Three Generations of Welsh Miners
Smith terminated his association with Life after a dispute on their use of his photos of Albert Schweitzer. this is one of them
Photo journalists helped to tell us about our own nation. That included issues of race. Let me share two photos from that endeavor:
KKK in North Carolina and an untitled picture of a hooded crowd with the leader pointing at Smith as he takes the photograph. Smith was at risk not only with the military in the Pacific, but also in documenting the hate and violence in our own nation.
Smith spent three years and thousands of photographs documenting one place, the city of Pittsburgh, only some of which ever were publicly available, much of that in book form. Here are three of those photos, all from 1955, shortly after he had left Life:
of a factory,
of a worker, and
of a work scene
For me, black and white is perfect for the expression of what I see in these photos - the starkness of the work environment is more powerful precisely because there is no color.
Smith basically invented the photo essay. There are several associated with him, one of which was of the effects of mercury upon one Japanese community, Minimata. I will end with the most famous of those photographs, shortly.
I was fortunate to meet Eugene Smith. I was friends with a free-lance photo-journalist in New York who took me along to an event to help put together an exhibit of Smith's work for the Jewish Museum. For some reason Smith to a liking to me, and the next thing I know is rather than helping mount the photos I was sitting with him, drinking whiskey, as he pulled out various photographs before they were mounted and talked about them - the circumstances that led to their being taken, how he got the shot (there was some posing of people, in other cases he waited for the moment, such as you see in Burial At Sea with the body descending to the water), what he was thinking/feeling at the time. I learned more about photography in that 45-60 minutes than I could have imagined. I learned how it could be used to move people, even though the image itself was not moving. I learned how a still black-and-white photograph could, even circa 1970, have more impact than moving pictures or color, how it could draw one into the photo, make one a part of the story. And how a series of such photos could bring you to a point where one photo could then have such an incredible impact as to be permanently seared upon your memory and your conscience.
Minimata as a series was like that. And one photo still, even in isolation, has that impact. It is of a mother, in a traditional Japanese bath ceremony, cradling her severely deformed daughter. It is, simply put, as powerful as any visual image I have ever encountered. For those concerned about environmental impact, this is an illustration of the most severe impact imaginable.
It will be the last thing I share. Ponder it here, because at the request of the family the photograph has been withdrawn and is no longer in circulation.
I will offer my final salutation now, before the link for the photo, because I want you to ponder it. And because I do, this link will be for the expanded picture.
Peace.
Tomoko Uemura in Her Bath Minamata, 1972