I know, probably the exact wrong time of year for this post, what with many peoples' pockets and purses depleted by the holidays. You know what they say: oh well.
Not long ago I got an email from a reader who said he'd come into a little windfall and wanted to pick up some photo books he'd missed, including TruthBeauty, an exhibition catalog from a show of Pictorialism at the Vancouver Art Gallery that Geoff reviewed a while back. The book is now out of print. Although there are probably better bargains out there if you look hard enough, used copies on Amazon are going for a low of $60 to a high of $262.28, and new copies start at $245. When we reviewed it, you could buy it new for $37.80.
And that was not even a year ago—February of this year to be precise.
I need to point out (again) that I don't buy photo books as financial investments, and, despite the stock-market language in the title of this post, I don't recommend them as such. The only concern I have with photo books appreciating quickly in value is that they can price themselves out of reach; what you can afford new at one time might be much harder to swallow even a year or two later. The example I always use is Roth's Book of 101 Books, which I wanted (and still want) but which was "too expensive" at $110 or so when I saw it new. So I held off. Now look at it. (Although, note, these prices are much lower than they were about 14 months ago, when the cheapest used price was in the $900+ range.)
And, of course, I can't guarantee that any particular book will appreciate in value. I'm happy to predict any event that will happen beyond the lifetime of anyone reading this—I'm willing to tell you exactly what will happen in 2110, for instance—but, for events closer to now, I disavow any crystal-ball-gazing ability. You'll recall I thought Saul Leiter's Early Color was in the "get it while you can" category, because of the first printing's spotty availability and its very volatile pricing early on, but then the publisher ran an evidently much bigger second printing and you can get it new
Anyway, all that said and clear and set, here are three books I think are hot buys right now and are likely to get harder to come by in the future:
South East
Mark Steinmetz, of Athens, Georgia, is undeniably a rising star of art photography thanks to his eloquent recent books; the slightly earlier companion to this one, South Central, is out of print, and its price is rising.
Witness Number 6
Lee and Maria Friedlander's affectionate portrait of Armenian-American sculptor Raoul Hague (born Haig Heukelekian in Constantinople) who lived the fully examined life in a cabin in upstate New York, is the sixth in Nazraeli's "Witness" series, earlier numbers of which are getting devilishly difficult to obtain. Witness Number 7
jpegs
One of a celebrated coterie of students of Bernd and Hilla Becher that includes Andreas Gursky, Candida Höfer, and Thomas Struth, Thomas Ruff has become one of the leading lights of German art photography. His jpegs is the culmination of a monumental project that looks like it will be remembered as an early milepost of the digital transition. There is also a much more expensive limited edition
• • •
Finally, though perhaps not in the art-hothouse category of books whose value is likely to rise, I got next year's delightful handmade calendar from Charles Cramer the other day (thanks very much, Charlie, if you're reading this!), and he mentioned that the book of Yosemite landscapes he did with Karl Kroeber, Scot Miller, Mike Osborne, and Keith S. Walklet from their show at the Ansel Adams Gallery has been selling like crazy and is almost gone. If you want it, better not count on a second edition. The book's called First Light: Five Photographers Explore Yosemite's Wilderness
(If you can't see this video, please go here.)
"When I bought from book dealers, I always kept the purchase price penciled inside. I have some books that are marked under $100 that would now fetch many thousands.
"Nice to know, but I still love them and have no intention of selling. It is smart, however, to get a collection appraised from time to time, if for no other reason than to maintain sufficient insurance.
"If one is interested in investment, however, it's of course important to keep the book...and the cover...in great condition. A book with a damaged or lost dust jacket could easily lose 75% of its value. A signed copy can also be important, if down the road the photographer is worthy. For living photographers, I've often taken books to exhibits or lectures, calling in advance to see if they have time and would be willing to sign.
"I used to come across some real bargains in old book stores here and overseas. But, merchants have become increasingly savvy about book values, and of course the smaller stores are now hard to find."
ADDENDUM by Jeff: "Given the discussion on book values in the comments, I'll add a bit to my post.
"While I don't plan to sell my collection, I need a realistic insurance value: for me if there's ever a loss or natural disaster; and for my potential heirs. I think this is wise for anyone having valuables and collectibles, especially if they are not commonly known items to others, including insurance companies and heirs. Toward this end, I used to have the book dealers I trusted to give me a written estimate based on their current sales. I would have them update this every five years or so.
"Last year, in preparation for a big move, I decided to send my list (with dealer notations on particulars, including condition) to an auction house in New York that specializes in photo book sales. This gave me another real world valuation, without any emotion attached.
"As I said earlier, though, the books are here for me to enjoy, not to sit idly on a shelf waiting for sale. But, if circumstances change, I'm better prepared."
, a coffee-table tome full of gorgeous photos of spectacular home libraries. Sort of 'interior design porn' for bibliophiles.
. I got a signed copy of that and have been enjoying it a little every day. For me, his work has more depth than what is mostly available now from the highly skilled, but over-produced work of professional rock photographers. Just my two cents' worth."
? I'd be interested to know what you think of it. 
, which is slowly winning me over to Mr. Max. (Mad Max? K? I daren't be too flippantly familiar, because he's out there, and he could find me....) Take this intro to one essay, for example: 
at random (and, as an aside, what do people think of that?) from time to time reminds me that it's been a long time since I really read much photography criticism for pleasure, or indeed for any other reason than self-improvement. I read out of duty, now, mostly. 
, introductions to monographs, 
maybe? Time for a poll:
is a very approachable introduction to the conventions and jargon of criticism for interested amateurs, and it's often used as a college level text on the subject. After reading it at least you'll know what academics are talking about. Michael Fried's 
is a turgid, tendentious book-length essay arguing that huge cinematically constructed photographs by Jeff Wall, Gregory Crewdson et al are the most significant art on the planet. Hookay.
by Philip Gefter is a cut-and-paste collection of old articles and new essays that tries to connect Robert Frank's The Americans to subsequent "post modern thought" and confections like Jeff Wall's; the corpse doesn't quite fit into the coffin, but some sections are interesting. Ian Jeffrey's 
turns out instead to be more like "how I personally read a photograph," wherein the author draws all sorts of unsustainable or frankly imaginary conclusions from "readings" of images famous and obscure.
(2002) is a bit dated now, but contains some very enjoyable essays on photographic craft and art. Vicki Goldberg's 
is a collection of her essays across several decades; some are really good, others not so much. Overall they lack the elegance and coherence of A.D. Coleman or the deep thought behind 
)
, he had an epiphany while attempting to photograph in the Appalachian mountains of Pennsylvania. He realized that every bit of landscape within sight had been completely reshaped by coal mining. Nothing was "natural." The landscape as reshaped by man instead became his subject.
, catalog to the 2003 exhibition, is still available, though its reproductions are marred by poor shadow detail (
). 
(Steidl, 2006) has very good reproductions, which beautifully depict the country's vast factories and frenzied urban construction, together with older coal and steel facilities (
). Finally, 
(Steidl, 2009) (
) applies the same immaculate large format photography to the mining of marble, granite and limestone. Reproductions are again excellent; large vehicles look like Matchbox toys inside gleaming marble pits in the earth. Great stuff if you like this kind of photography.
, by Simon Roberts
)
, by Simon Roberts
)
along with it. It should be the kind of book I'd just love. Another copious, well-made, almost ridiculously high-value book (I mean, for less than eleven bucks, they're giving this away—it is a very generous and well-made book for that price—or twice or three times that price). It's part of Benedikt Taschen's 25th Anniversary Special Editions series (his is a story in itself). It has an incisive Introduction by the last Director of The Polaroid Collections, Barbara Hitchcock, and the selection of pictures is an embarrassment of riches. To circle around to where this started, there is even a Polaroid of Andy Warhol wielding his Big Shot. And yet, I've paged through The Polaroid Book three times now, and can't sort out how to feel about it. I like it. I just don't love it. 
, I regret to say. Uh, Rapunzel?) Then I saw a magazine article or two. Then, a motley of small or indifferently published books, some with only a chapter or a section on Alvarez Bravo. I don't recall ever having seen any original prints, although I might be forgetting one or two encountered in group shows.
and 
last year, is by far the best monograph I've encountered on this photographer. The selection is comprehensive and first rate, the layout unobtrusive and the sequencing expert, the reproduction quality consistently excellent—the ink on paper has an almost sensual yumminess, good enough to give you that familiar but often elusive visceral sense of gratification. I've known many of these pictures before, but I sense from this book that I have only known "of" them; I never really saw many of them until now. (There are twenty never-previously-published pictures, too.) This is really an example of the highest function of the best monographs: they make you feel like you really understand a photographer's work. Sometimes for the first time.
links.
.
Rockwell was a fine illustrator, not a great painter—but his virtually daily use of the camera in constructing his complicated, multi-layered illustrations is really eye-opening. He didn't do the photography himself, but served as a director, and the results of the complicated scenes he created are almost like photographic forerunners of the stuff you see from Jeff Wall and Gregory Crewdson...but done in the 1930s and '40s.
as soon as I get home from work today (through your link, natch). Haven't bought a photo book in a good half year and am looking forward to these two...."
came out two years ago, and I haven't even seen it yet. Have to figure out a way to find that to take a look....
(it's the size of a small phone book—despite which, the reproduction quality is quite good) is the single best one-volume book on the subject, and for a limited time he's offering copies signed by John Dominis for $70 each. 
. (Here's the 
.)
It's part of a series of similarly-titled books put out by Prestel USA which includes titles like 
and 
. As such, it's in the nature of a primer, giving the reader basic background and a sample or two of each of the featured photographers' work. Please, don't send me emails three weeks from now complaining that the book is superficial and too basic for you because you've heard of all these photographers before. This is for people who haven't ever taken an introductory-level history of photography course or read one of the all-in-one texts such as 
(which I'm amazed and concerned to see is out of print—what, is civilization ending?) or 
. If you're in the proper target audience, however, the book provides the goods: it's nicely laid out, with good examples and capable write-ups, and, most importantly, these are 50 photographers you indeed should know. That I could readily name another hundred or more you should also know is neither here nor there. The book fulfills the promise of its title.
from Chronicle Books. (Here's the 
.)
. Ironically, the photographer-author of that book, Andrew Zuckerman, is one of the photographers featured in Lewis Blackwell's book (represented by his amazing portrait of Andrew Wyeth, whose face late in life looked like it was made of melting wax. Incidentally, if you do get the book, compare the book reproduction of this picture with the web JPEG here—nolo contendere, and a good object lesson in the superiority of good printed reproduction over the admittedly very convenient computer screen).
, for your edification and delectation, and for reasons which should become obvious once you see what it is.
.
—it might have been Darkroom 2, rather than the original—about a photographer who agitated his film by rolling the tank around on the floor with his foot while he smoked a cigarette. When the cigarette was done, it was time for the stop bath. Who needs anything so bourgeois as a timer? You could be the digital equivalent of that—snap the pic and however it looks is however it looks. Why sweat details?
, despite the fact that I really, really mean to read and study it, on account of I suck with layers, on account of I'm lazy and have poor mental habits when it comes to orderliness, as anyone reading this post has noticed by now. (Only a lazy, disorderly person would make all the changes to the base layer.) Owning a book you don't read and then continue to not read is useless, but hopeful. More hopeful than deciding not to buy it, and much more hopeful than making fun of it based on the title. Buying it and keeping it handy bespeaks intention, willingness in a general sense, and aspiration. The intention is just open-ended, is all. You intend to get to grips with the subject—just...later. Later, I'm gonna crack open my copy of Layers and read the whole
first chapter. If I don't get to it, then I'll do it later. Or, if I
have to, later. I own the book, so I'm good. But making fun of something before you know what it's all about, however, closes you to it. Brooks can't buy Image Sharpening now, can he? He's already ridiculed it in public, which is to declare it outside the pale. 
, which was, at the time I read it, the best technical book about digital photography I ever read, and which has also been updated by Jeff. But good. You should buy it. But 
.
, too.
, it's a big, sumptuously-produced, lavishly illustrated book of pictures of cameras. (
.) The book's own subtitle gets it quite wrong: it's not a history of photography at all, it's a history of cameras—a splendid, broad parade, hitting all the high points, covering the peaks from the earliest pre-1839 beginnings to the Leica M8. In many cases, the pictures of cameras are shown next to photographs taken with them or that might have been taken with something very similar: for instance, Joe Rosenthal's own Speed Graphic is shown next to his photograph of the raising of Old Glory at Iwo Jima. If your photography hobby leans toward an interest in cameras—or, equally, if you actually have an empty space on your coffee table (and if that's true I have not been doing my job)—then this might be for you.
, which I finally bought. Not yesterday; ten days ago, from Amazon. Regular readers of this site are well aware that I'm constantly going on about how you can support the site by buying stuff from Amazon through 
, for one. I initially thought it was wonderful, but as I began to deconstruct my reaction for a potential review and "look at it through other peoples' eyes," I realized that much of its richness was coming from what I was bringing to it—that is, from the fact that I knew the work of many of the "heroes" covered in it deeply and intimately before I ever turned the first page. What the book was doing was reminding me of all that, not necessarily providing enough evidence of it for people who would come to the book's subjects cold.) On the other hand, once you get to know a book it can seem even richer and more wonderful when you finally sit down and get to grips with it. You know, like the way you sometimes hear a cut of music five or six times and then, a few weeks or months later, encounter it again and really listen to it, and really hear it, for the first time. I strongly suspect that will happen with Memories of Myself.
by Eugen Herrigel, and what I said about it then was "Make the mental leap from shooting arrows to shooting pictures, and
this becomes virtually an instruction manual for camera handling and
shooting skills." 
, NY: Abrams, n.d.: 'After the war and his long stay in Asia, during which he discovered Eastern religions, Cartier-Bresson made far less use of the hunting and firearms metaphor in describing his work. He preferred instead to compare it to archery. In the early 1950s, Georges Braque gave him a little book entitled Zen in the Art of Archery (1948), which was to have a major influence on his concept of photography, or at least on his way of describing it.... In this tiny work [by Eugen Herrigel], and particularly in its description of satori, a state of spiritual enlightenment, Cartier-Bresson found a notion of concentration that was astonishingly similar to his own practice: forgetting oneself, and putting all one's senses on alert in order to be able to seize on whatever offered itself.' (P. 108.)"
by Michael Eastman and William Gass (pub: Rizzoli) is a work very much kindred to these books."
to the list if I may."
and is well known for his landscapes of the Grand Canyon region, is also one of the few photographers in America who makes a good living selling prints. His second book, just published by Rocky Nook, is called 
. The new book is 370 pages long and contains more than 350 photographs and illustrations, many of them never seen before. Fans of Alain's essays on The Luminous Landscape and everyone else will find more information about the new book as well as various related offers on 
and its follow-up, 
were surprise best-sellers. In his latest book, 
, which Amazon will begin shipping tomorrow, Kirk has changed gears a bit to outline for photographers of all levels of skill and ambition what commercial photography is all about—what the important principles are, how commercial photographers work, and, last but not least, how you can make money in these "down" times.
