The Online Photographer

Reviewed by Geoff Wittig

Helen Levitt
Powerhouse Books, 2008
Monograph / Photography / New York City
Clothbound, 12.25 x 12.75 inches, 168 pages, 74 tritone and 68 four-color photographs
ISBN 13: 978-1-57687-429-5
$60.00 ($37.80 / £24.38 on Amazon)

Link to Amazon U.S.

Link to Amazon U.K.

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Books that are actually about photographs, rather than photography, are distinctly in the minority on the shelves of your local Borders or Barnes & Noble. And among books of photographs, cute and trendy titles (like, say, Fearless Women or anything by Anne Geddes) greatly outnumber serious monographs. And of this miniscule number of genuine books of photography, smaller yet is the number really worth your time. Helen Levitt is one of those books.

Published as the catalogue of Levitt's retrospective exhibition at Germany’s Sprengel Museum Hannover, the book is a collection of her most iconic black & white street photography, interspersed with equally compelling color images. I confess that street photography is not one of my usual interests; yet as I turned the pages I recognized one photograph after another. These images had all previously caught my eye in magazines or "best of" collections due to their visual impact. Levitt's photographs are often poignant, frequently funny, but never sentimental. Having lived in New York City in the early 1980s, my consistent reaction to her work is "yes, that's exactly what the city feels like."

As a physical object, this book is quite large at 12.25 x 12.75". The design is restrained and elegant, with a simple dark green cloth cover. Photographs are printed one to a page, large enough to see what's going on in the picture, yet with generous margins. Reproduction quality is up to the best of modern standards; black and white photos have luscious tonality with detail right into the shadows, while the color images have the distinctive flavor of 1960s–1970s Kodachrome. "Text by Walker Evans" is a bit of shameless hype on the Powerhouse Books website; the sum total text is a single paragraph by Evans analyzing and praising Levitt's photo of three children playing in Spanish Harlem. The minimal text is at least cleanly set in Janson type.

If street photography is your thing, save up and buy this book. Levitt's last retrospective, Crosstown (2001) promptly sold out and now goes for $950; so Helen Levitt might be a smart investment even if you're not especially fond of the genre. Me, I just like the pictures.

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Geoff

Featured Comment by Ken Tanaka: "Very good write-up, Geoff.

"I just received a copy of this book last week. You are absolutely on-target with your keen comment regarding the book being about photographs rather than photography. There are no supplementary notes provided with any of the images. No dates. No titles. They would be entirely superfluous. Just look.

"Helen Levitt's entire lifetime body of work is really about photographs rather than photography. Put simply, Ms. Levitt's images are all about the end result. Not the technology, which has not changed radically during her many decades of shooting. Nor the technique, which is largely a matter of walking around with a surgical eye and keen reflexes. Just look.

"I find most street photography vapid. Helen Levitt's work is way beyond an exception with me. Even as a lifelong urban dweller I find it captivating. It was a cold, dreary day when my copy of Helen Levitt arrived.  I made a cup of coffee, sat down with the book, and was completely immersed in Helen's world for the next two hours.

"Helen Levitt rarely gives interviews or makes any personal appearances. In 2002, however, NPR's Melissa Block was able to get a very brief interview with Levitt at her Greenwich Village apartment. It's very well worth the read, and the listen."

Mike adds: I haven't seen the new Helen Levitt but I have Crosstown and the 1991 Helen Levitt published by the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, plus a couple of earlier titles the availability of which can now be classed as "fuggedaboudit." Not known by a single iconic book, Miss Levitt seems to publish serial retrospectives. The 1991 SFMoMA book, still readily obtainable in softcover, is fully girded with the trappings of scholarship, with major illustrated essays by not one but two major curators; Sandra S. Phillips' essay alone is buttressed by more than four (!) double-columned pages of notes. Yet Miss Levitt didn't like the book—when I asked her, she wouldn't sign it for me. She didn't approve of the reproduction, which was too dark and contrasty (although the color pictures in that book more closely represent the wonderful dye transfer prints of some of her color work I saw in a gallery exhibit in New York around the time that book came out. To have one of those hanging on the wall would be a decent reason to want to be rich).

Crosstown remedies that problem: the repro is much more faithful to Miss Levitt's  quiet, un-insistent prints. The picture editing is better too, sometimes with two pictures facing, sometimes with one on the right-hand page of a spread, and rarely, for sequences, more than one picture per page. The book overall has just a hint of that feeling of being amalgamated from different "bodies of work" from different periods; the modern black-and-white pictures seem too sharp, giving them a certain hardness. The pictures that seem least "of a piece" with the rest are not color ones, but an Evans-esque subway series. One remarkable thing about the book is how completely the last color shots fit with the earliest black-and-white ones from the '30s.

One way or another, it shouldn't be too hard to own some Helen Levitt in the pages of a printed book. Every ten, or fifteen, or twenty years another opportunity comes along. As Geoff and Ken intimate, it really doesn't matter what your normal taste in subject matter might be. Helen Levitt is sui generis.

Featured Comment by Hugh Crawford: "I think that the color photograph of the man standing on Central Park West is a fine example of a photograph that works in color but not so much in black and white.

"In color, the vendor's blue and orange umbrella picks up the colors of the man's skin and shorts, and the group of people on the far corner with the orange and white umbrella are picked out of the rest of the picture because they share a similar color palate. This sets up the tension of the man leaning on his cane towards the group on the far side of the street but looking past the vendor. You get this whole triangle of tension in the  color photo, but if you convert it to black and white you just get a guy in shorts on the street corner.

"I think it's a good example of a way that color photographs can use color in a mode of formalism that is color specific. It's a completely different language from black and white.

"I don't know if there is 'too much information' in that photo, but I know that in black and white there isn't enough information to make it more than a literal record. In color it is a 'long read' as they say; eventually the little figure a third of the way down the left hand edge becomes the focus of attention after you unwind all the directional cues and color associations."

Bounce, n., a positive collateral effect arising from attention elsewhere, as in a sudden rise in traffic on a website following an article about it, or a sudden rise in sales of a product resulting from a positive review.

Talk about bounce—our friend Kirk Tuck, first introduced to denizens of the web back in 2001 when he wrote a long and thoughtful review of the Leica M6 on Photo.net, has written a book, published by the longtime photo how-to specialist Amherst Media, called Minimalist Lighting: Professional Techniques for Location Photography. (I have the book sitting here waiting patiently in my review queue.) Well, the other day, it was positively reviewed on Strobist.com by another friend, David Hobby, and directly afterward, Kirk reports, it shot up to #22 on Amazon's best-seller list.

Note: that's not #22 on Amazon's photography bestseller list. That's the main list, as in, all the books Amazon sells.

Now that's impressive.

Granted, the bounce—well, that degree of bounce—didn't last long. When I looked this morning, Minimalist Lighting was #200 and falling, although that's still pretty impressive for a photography title.

You may or may not be aware that Amazon's real-time bestseller rankings are almost a focus of obsession with many authors. I know writers who check the status of their book sales like some investors keep tabs on the stock market. And there are novelists who would kill for #200 for any length of time, much less #22. For instance, #22 this morning is The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, the sophomore effort and first novel by Dominican-American author Junot Diaz that just won the 2008 Pulitzer Prize for Fiction.

In any event, I think we can dub David the Oprah Winfrey of photography books.

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Mike

I had intended this to be "book week," in which I planned to publish some of the book reviews I have by others still awaiting the light of day, as well as churning through some of the many books I have awaiting review by me. But we had to pause yesterday while I made another Implacable Enemy, something I inadvertently do from time to time, and Edward Taylor has written a nice review of his new Sigma DP-1 that I'd like to post soon, probably later today or tomorrow. Besides, it's obvious I'm not going to make much of a dent in the book situation anyway, without letting them take over the website indefinitely.

Still, there are two that I'd like to discuss briefly, and they deserve to be discussed together, and not just because they arrived chez Johnston in the same box from Amazon. They are E. O. Hoppe's Amerika: Modernist Photographs from the 1920s and New York Rises: Photographs by Eugene de Salignac.

I've been hearing about E. O. Hoppé for years—his name almost always associated with a word like "underrated" or "forgotten" or "underappreciated"—but had never seen much of his work, so I figured it was high time. Since my memory is mainly visual, my most vivid impression of Hoppé was a mental image of Bill Jay's characteristically excellent portrait of him in old age, which I was pleased to find online. Bill had hunted him down in a nursing home in 1972.

Bill also made efforts to resuscitate Hoppé's reputation. With Cecil Beaton, he secured for Hoppé an Honorary Fellowship from the Royal Photographic Society, which had been Hoppé's fondest desire, only weeks before the older photographer died at the age of 95. Fascinatingly, Bill also says of Hoppé: "Rarely in the history of photography has a photographer been so famous in his own lifetime among the general public. All photographers revered him; Cecil Beaton simply referred to him as The Master." (Bill Jay, Occam's Razor, which I am dismayed to see is out of print, p. 143. You can find the essay here, filed under "E." It's a PDF.)

Looking at the pictures, this fame is, frankly, mystifying. The meaning of work does change with time and fashion; innovations can be eclipsed, and the needs of a public and a society—what it wants reflected of itself, what it hopes its artists will say about it—is more evanescent than we give it credit for being; a study of the many figures in all the arts who were hugely popular during their lifetimes but are then dismissed by posterity, sometimes utterly, would be fascinating. What I see here is work that is not modernist, but transitional between pictorialism and modernism, hesitantly and somewhat indiscriminately employing the visual tricks and tropes of both. It's not assured technically: Hoppé seems to misplace focus, consistently putting it too far back, as if his ground glass were mis-calibrated and he never figured it out. Phillip Prodger, in comparing Hoppé's subjects with similar themes by other famous photographers such as Evans, Sheeler, Strand, Weston, Stieglitz and Coburn (and the painter Edward Hopper) in his introductory essay, unintentionally demonstrates Hoppé's comparative weakness, his inability to construct an assured picture even out of promising material.

E. O. Hoppé, 6th Avenue at 42nd Street, New York City, 1921

In fact, "unassured" is as good a word as any for what I see in these pictures. Hoppé seems to be always searching for a means of organizing his subject visually, aware that there's a picture in in the vicinity somewhere but seemingly never able to quite find it. He casts about this way and that for modes of approach, now heroic, now ironic; here classical, there iconoclastic; first descriptive, next impressionistic. (These pictures were originally published under the title Das Romantische Amerika—Romantic America. Phillip Prodger claims that the title was "partially ironic," but an English version was subtitled "Picturesque United States." ) The work just lacks confidence. The best pictures seem like near misses, and the worst are no less approximate than snapshots.

Bill Jay, Emil Otto Hoppe in a nursing home, England, 1972

From one extreme to the other
The case of Eugene de Salignac couldn't be more opposite, in so many ways. The front flaps says, "From 1906 to 1934, Eugene de Salignac shot over twenty thousand 8-by-10-inch glass plate negatives of New York City. As the sole photographer at the municipal Department of Bridges/Plant and Structures during that period of unprecedented change, he documented the creation of the city's infrastructure—bridges, major buildings, roads, and subways." He was not only not famous among the public in his lifetime, he was almost irredeemably anonymous during his lifetime, and might have remained so had it not been for the visual acuity and detective work of Michael Lorenzini, who performed a rescue operation to save de Salignac from the dustbin of history almost on the order of Berenice Abbott retrieving the plates of Atget from the trash. (It took Lorenzini a fair amount of sleuthing just to unearth de Salignac's name. We still don't know what he looked like.) It's a fine story, and enlivens the book's verbal essay. But it's the pictures that carry the volume.

Eugene de Salignac might have been just a workman (a blue-collar photographer, one might say) doing a quotidian job for a salary, but his vision is consistent and bold. He's the soul of capability, organizing well-composed pictures out of complex situations, readily handling tough situations and confidently playing with unusual and quite sophisticated arrangements (see the picture of the cable-oiler on the Williamburg Bridge on p. 57, for example, or the now-famous cover picture). He seems an authentic prototype for what some modernist art photographers strive for. (That giant W has probably made some contemporary art photographers jealous!) Of course, out of 20,000 pictures it's probably possible to make any number of different cases for what kind of photographer he was, like a fanatic extracting one or two lines from the Bible to defend some wacky worldview. I won't say I know where this book's small sample of his work places de Salignac in the pantheon of photographers, but I enjoyed the book a lot more than I thought I would.

The two photographers even visit the same theme once. Compare Hoppé's nondescript, approximate, vague and fuzzy view of the Woolworth building made in 1921 (p. 65 in book #1) with de Salignac's magnificent, crisp, no-nonsense and supremely descriptive picture of the same building made in 1914 (p. 6 in book #2). No contest.

It's very tempting to draw pat conclusions from the contrast between these two books by these two very different photographers—the famous artist aiming high but harboring the more modest talent, and the unassuming, near-nameless workaday pro transcending his day job to rise to genius. I can't say it's an unappealing object lesson. The two of them might be a good embodiment of David Bayles and Ted Orland's story, in Art and Fear, of the pottery instructor who divided his class in half—one half to be graded on the basis of a single perfect pot, and the other half judged purely by the number of pots they could churn out. The moral of the little tale was that the people who threw the most clay also learned how to make better pots. There's something to be said for approaching photography as if it were a job, even if it's not.

Eugene de Salignac, Williamsburg Bridge, view showing Kent Avenue Yard "W," 20 feet, for "WSS" to be placed on towers March 20, 1918 [WSS stands for "War Savings Stamps"; the letters were erected on the south side of the Manhattan tower during World War I.]

The pat answers aren't the right answers, however. I've pawed through my share of vast forgotten archives in my time, and I'm here to testify that many workaday jobber photographers were plain hacks, their work no more graceful or well-seen for being plentiful. Talent is rare, period, and de Salignac (like Arnold Odermatt and Mike Disfarmer, two other talented photographers with anonymous, earthbound jobs) was gifted, plain and simple, no matter what his job description or work instructions. It may be, however, that de Salignac's pictures—or Michael Lorenzini's selection of his pictures—simply conform to modern tastes and expectations better. (Much better.)

I'm going to shelve these books next to each other. The two of them really do add up to more than either one alone, and I'm glad I encountered them together. But for a buy recommendation for others, the de Salignac is the one to have, assuming you have an interest in one or more of the following: pre-WWII America, documentary photography, large format, men at work, architecture and construction, or New York city.

(And by the way, if you haven't at least browsed Bill Jay's lovely website of portraits, you really should. I published a portfolio of his portraits of photographers in Photo Techniques a decade or so ago, and I've been a big fan for much longer than that. He really is one of our very best portraitists.)

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Mike

By Ken Tanaka

André Kertész: The Polaroids
Introduction by Robert Gurbo
128 pages. W.W. Norton, 2007.
$35 ($23.10 at Amazon)

Link to Amazon U.S.

Link to Amazon U.K.

The recent announcement of the discontinuation of Polaroid’s consumer films sent me on a search for notable Polaroid photographic art works. I did not have to search long. It seems that there has been a small but devoted group of photographers and artists with a strong affinity for Polaroid film. Of all of the Polaroid work that I’ve found thus far, however, none has touched me as strongly and deeply as a group of recently published Polaroid images by the late André Kertész.

Like any of Kertész’s images these would stand strong on their own merits in the absence of any context. But a spot of back-story, as provided by Robert Gurbo, the book’s author and the curator of Kertész’s estate, makes the collection all that much richer.

It was the 1970s and Kertész was nearing the end of his nearly 70-year career, much of which had been spent in relative obscurity. He was deeply mourning the recent death of his wife and lifelong closest friend, Elizabeth. Approaching 80, Kertész’s own health was also failing.  One day musician and photographer Graham Nash, whom Kertész had befriended during this period, gave him a Polaroid SX-70 camera as a gift. Kertész found the new technology of "instant film" to be liberating. (A balance disorder had kept him from doing his own darkroom work for nearly 40 years. Being able to shoot and develop his images autonomously was a revelation to him.) Indeed, by all accounts the transformational effect of the Polaroid photography on Kertész was rather remarkable. In his introduction Robert Gurbo remarks, "...a sad old man waiting to die had become one who could not wait for the next click of the camera."

The 65 images presented in this book, dating from the late 1970s until shortly before Kertész‘s death in 1985, were all captured in, or from, his apartment near Washington Square in New York where he and Elizabeth had lived since 1952. Many are still lifes, some are golden hour shadow play, others are casual portraits of visitors to his home. Together and individually they present a striking and very touching reflection of an immensely talented, but lonely, photographer nearing the end of his road. But these images also show that same creative talent embracing and exploring a new medium. This was clearly a man far more devoted to results rather than methods. We can only wonder how Kertész might have embraced digital photography.

In today’s "bigger is better" world of photography this little book of Polaroid images, reproduced in full size, serves as an important reference point regarding the intrinsic qualities of good images. To be sure, the world has many images featuring rich, essential detail that require enormous prints. But as a stroll through many photo dealers’ galleries will confirm today, size is most often being used to fraudulently suggest quality and importance (and to inflate prices). Kertész’s little Polaroids, like most of his images, are so far above today’s feet-by-feet images selling for seven figures that it’s laughable. The quality of these images would endure at any size, but they’re particularly special and precious at the size of a Polaroid "instant" snapshot.

I am personally grateful to Robert Gurbo for bringing this mostly unseen body of André Kertész’s final work to print, and to the recent exhibit which it accompanies. (The quality of the printed images is also outstanding.) It’s become one of the books that’s always on my desk serving as an almost-daily visual drinking fountain of inspiration and instruction.

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Ken

Featured Comment by Stephen Gillette: "On my birthday in 1981 my dear wife presented me with From My Window, a book of SX-70 images made by Kertész. She knew my great esteem for his work, and I had been shooting with an SX-70 myself.

"For some strange reason, I recall being ambivalent about the book. The images were not exactly classic Kertész: these were color, square, and reproduced actual size (small). I expressed polite thanks. The book found a spot on the shelf, and there it patiently waited.

"Over the years, like a lapsed friendship rediscovered, this book has provided unexpected delight. It has returned to my ripening attention and appreciation, year-after-year. What a marvel of emotionally-potent delights!

"Kertész has stated that he sought to create 'atmosphere' in his photographs. The mystical potential of art is no better displayed than in his Polaroid images, created with such a simple, reduced camera system. (Simple, but elegant, the SX-70.)

"I look forward to seeing this new book, and to being freshly inspired by this old friend."

Mike adds: And may I just point out that the retail price of From My Window in fine condition is currently about $200 to $250. Photography books are not only great to have, they're great to collect.

I received my copy of Peter and David Turnley's McClellan Street from Amazon yesterday, and I have to say it is everything I had hoped it would be.

I remember a photography project that had a deep and long-lasting effect on me. I think it was published by Jim Hughes in the short-lived but important original Camera Arts magazine in the 1980s. The photographer's name was David Heiden, and if I recall correctly he was or is a medical doctor. (An eye doctor, maybe?) Despite being on the alert for further news of him, I've never come across his byline again. He had taken a series of pictures in a Cambodian refugee camp. The magazine showed just a small selection.

What impressed me about his pictures was the way he had photographed people in dire circumstances, honestly, with no intent to deceive, but at the same time with a straightforward human dignity, so that the viewer understood them to be fellow human beings first and foremost. I was very impressed by his attitude towards his subjects: neither solicitous nor condescending, frank but not exploitative.

There's that same sort of fundamental respect in McClellan Street. It's not a sweetened view; these are poor people, and their poverty is obvious. But they're also just people living their lives. The brothers highlight the individuality and humanity of these people in a way that many photographers would do well to learn from.

David Turnley, from McClellan Street

The pictures reach a very high standard individually and collectively, and, like good music deserves repeated hearings, I think this book will prove well worth going back to look at again and again.

The brothers' technique is adequate; the reproduction quality is adequate. Well beyond adequate is the size and layout of the book: this is just about how I like to look at pictures, big enough but not too big, one to a page, centered in the page with no fussy or flashy "designy" elements or tricks. It allows your eye to concentrate on the pictures without distractions.

A bonus
One totally unexpected and quite stunning sidelight is the way the book delineates how this entire project effectively launched the Turnleys' careers as photojour- nalists. Their short, almost terse descriptions of how they conceived and pursued the project, and then David Turnley's brief but eloquent account of how the work all but magically opened the doors of the world of professional photojournalism to both brothers, is a concise, vivid, and invaluable lesson. If you know of a young photographer whose ambition is to be a photojournalist, you could (I mean this very seriously) do them few better favors than giving them this book. It will literally show them how it's done.

A final side note: the same Jim Hughes who published David Heiden's Cambodian refugee camp pictures was also the first editor to publish the Turnleys' McClellan Street pictures, in Camera 35, the magazine he edited before Camera Arts.

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Mike

Featured Comment by stevierose: "As noted, one of the most impressive thing about these photographs is that the Turnley twins were 17 years old and shared one camera with one lens between them when they did this project. However, an equally interesting thing is how they prepared themselves for careers as first class photojournalists (before they even really knew that was what they wanted to do).

"Both got degrees from the Residential College at the University of Michigan and then studied in France. I am not positive about David, but I know that Peter went to the Sorbonne and then the Institut d’Etudes Politiques of Paris, where he got a graduate degree in International Relations, before seriously embarking on his career in photojournalism. The Institut is a place where many of Europe's future leaders fine-tune their education. I understand that Nicolas Sarkozy was one of Peter's classmates there.

"Louis Pasteur reputedly said, 'Dans les champs de l'observation le hasard ne favorise que les esprits préparés,' which roughly means that luck (or chance) favors the prepared. I believe that Peter Turnley's career is a great example of this. While it is very helpful to be talented, it is usually not sufficient. The amazing thing about Peter and David's body of photojournalism work is that invariably they knew where to be and got there first, and then took great photographs."

Featured Comment by Charlie H: "Dr. Heiden published a book in 1992, Dust to Dust, A Doctor's View of Famine in Africa, which recounts several months he spent treating refugees in the Sudan in 1984, and is filled with pictures he took during that time. Very compelling stuff. The book is available online at davidheiden.org."

by Geoff Wittig

Arizona Highways Photo- graphy Guide: How & Where to Make Great Photographs

336 pages, Book division, Arizona Highways, 2008

$24.95 ($16.47 at Amazon)

Link to Amazon U.S.

Link to Amazon U.K.

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Arizona Highways is a monthly magazine published by the Arizona Department of Public Transportation (no, really!), widely acclaimed for its photography. The magazine has been notorious in the on-line world for rejecting digital capture submissions for inadequate image quality, and their current submission guidelines essentially require film or a medium format digital back. Much of the work published is classic large-format landscape photography. Regular contributors include such well-known landscape photographers as David Muench and Jack Dykinga. If you’ve never seen the magazine, it’s well worth a look. Reproduction quality is as good as it gets for a monthly glossy, and many of the images are simply breathtaking. The signature Arizona Highways image is a group of immaculate desert wildflowers in the foreground with an imposing butte or mountain lit by the last rays of the setting sun in the background—all tack-sharp, beautifully lit, perfectly exposed and carefully composed. It’s a kind of benchmark for "straight" color landscape photography.

The magazine has just published its Arizona Highways Photograph Guide, which joins a mountain of photographic "how to" books out there. Such books run the gamut from very basic guides for newbies to niche offerings addressing a narrow area. Most are eminently forgettable, while a few have become genuine classics. (John Shaw's Nature Photography Field Guide, an update of his 1984 Nature Photographer’s Complete Guide to Professional Field Techniques, comes to mind.*) So where does this one fit in the market?

Physically it’s a compact "brick" at 6 x 9" and 336 pages. Photo reproductions are very nice indeed, with just enough gloss to give the images some bite, while the accompanying text is printed on a glare-free satin surface. Some photographs illustrate the written text, while others are pure eye-candy. The larger images are printed across the fold, hard to avoid in such a compact book. Most of the text is set in Adobe Minion, a compact and attractive digital typeface, though at a point size a tad small for my middle-aged eyes. A nice touch is the proper use of f-ligatures, but the numerals are unfortunately the default lining or titling figures rather than the more appropriate text or oldstyle version. I minor point, I know; but it would only require a few keystrokes to do it right.

The actual content of the Guide is divided into three sections:

"The Basics" starts with a discussion of digital photography by Jack Kurtz—a concise, breezy discussion of everything from pixels and white balance to camera types and specifics of sharpening. Kurtz does a remarkable job of cramming a lot of information into 27 pages, though digital newbies will likely need more guidance, and experienced folks may find it redundant. Jeff Kida (very) briefly discusses gear, describing the contents of his professional travel kit and why one needs a tripod. The advice is sound, but too terse to be very helpful.

Lawrence W. Cheek next tackles exposure, and presents possibly the clearest and most usable brief discussion of exposure and metering I have ever read. The explanation of f-stop, shutter speed, ISO and depth of field (complete with excellent diagrams) is inspired. Purists (you know who you are!) may gripe that he oversimplifies. For instance, he states that "The shorter the focal length of the lens, the more depth of field it will provide," when strictly speaking it’s subject magnification that determines depth of field. But if you’re knowledgeable enough to know this factoid, then you don’t need this book. For folks just starting to make the leap from point & shoot to something better, the discussion is pitch-perfect. Next Peter Ensenberger discusses light and composition in tight, elegantly written chapters that are accurately targeted at the amateur who is aiming to improve and starting to seriously explore the medium. Last is Richard Maack’s brief review of close-up photography.

"Types of Photography" comes next, with separate chapters on landscape (Jack Dykinja), wildlife (Tom Vezo), people & events (Richard Maack), architecture (Maack again), travel (Kerrick James), and adventure (John Annerino). Some editorial care has obviously been taken to get these different voices to play well together. Landscape photography is my own obsession, so I can speak most to Dykinja’s chapter. He nicely expresses how learning a landscape’s character is the prerequisite for photographing it successfully. He also explains in entertaining fashion the "hurry up and wait" of capturing a compelling landscape in perfect light. Included is the expected discussion of gear, but the heart of the chapter is about perception and sensitivity to the effects of weather and light. Tom Vezo’s chapter contains the expected review of the (very expensive) long lenses required for wildlife images, but also an incisive discussion of the role of simple patience, persistence, and knowledge of the critter you’re trying to photograph. The discussions of the remaining types of photography are equally deft, giving the inspired hobbyist a good jumping-off point for further exploration.

"Places for Photography" occupies the last 131 pages of the book, and is to me the most interesting section. The distinct geophysical regions of Arizona are addressed separately and poetically, with discussion of numerous specific landscape subjects and locations following a general overview. There are detailed directions to the sites, including trail and road conditions, most photogenic season or time of day, permit requirements, flower blooms and weather expectations. Especially welcome are pointers on working around the hordes of tourists likely at some locations at the peak of vacation season. Great stuff.

To summarize, Arizona Highways Photography Guide is almost two books. The first two sections comprise a lucid, very concise discussion of photography pitched at a level appropriate for someone ready to migrate from a point & shoot to a digital SLR or high-end "bridge" camera with manual control options. It’s also for someone who's finally ready to exploit that digital SLR they’ve been using like a point & shoot. The last section is a very nice detailed guide to many of the most photogenic landscape spots in Arizona. Just the thing for someone planning to spend a week or three checking out the state.

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Geoff

*Regarding John Shaw's book, I own both editions. Like most fans, I find the original 1984 edition to be superior to the later 2000 version. Its writing is engagingly humble, the images subtle, the approach to nature reverential. The later edition is thoroughly competent, but lacks some of the magic of the original. —G.W.

Ever wondered what your rights and obligations as a photographer are? Carolyn Wright, who has written for this site and who maintains the photoattorney.com website, lays out what you need to know plainly and simply. Her book is reasonably brief (who has the time to read a textbook the size of the phone book on this subject?) and avoids an excess of legal jargon.

Whether you're already selling either your work or your services, or are just thinking about it, the Photographer's Legal Guide should answer most or all of your questions.

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Mike

Featured Comment by Grant Kench: "Note that legal issues are jurisdictionally based. Whilst this publication may well be excellent for the U.S.A., much of it will not apply elsewhere, e.g. where I am in Tasmania."

Featured Comment by Jason: "I own a copy of this and as a photography/ legal resource, it is invaluable. While most people know about Bert Krages' .PDF file explaining photographer's rights, Carolyn's book answers a lot more of the common questions you may be inclined to ask on the business side. She also is a member of Naturescapes.net and an accomplished photographer in her own right. I would recommend this book to anyone interested in selling their work."

A couple of quick book links that I've been meaning to put up for a while now. (I'm getting really behind with posting book reviews, mine and others'. I have a whopping eight books in the review queue here at T.O.P. world headquarters, a.k.a. my study, and at least half that many written reviews awaiting posting. I'll try to make some progress on that soon.)

First of all, if you've been a photo- grapher for a while, or have spent a lot of time on online camera forums, you're probably aware of all the lore, legend, wild claims and strong talk that centers around Leicas. Just in case you've heard enough of this to wonder just what they're talking about, I really hope you can take a quick look at Sebastiao Salgado's Africa the next time you're at the bookstore. The reproduction quality in this book is stunning—its pages are close cousins to original prints, were they this size. Many of the pictures (maybe not all, but easily a majority of them) show what Leicas do and what all the fuss is about. Just so photographically beautiful. All I can say is...wow.

Sorry not to talk more about the pictures themselves, but I don't own this book—I just spent some quality time with the open copy at the bookstore.

Secondly, Robert Frank's The Americans is about to be republished again, for, I don't know, the fourth or fifth time. You definitely can't afford a first edition; if you can afford one, chances are you can't find one. I have the 1986 Pantheon reprint. One of the treasures of my overflowing bookcase. I won't go on and on about this book right here; suffice to say that, after half a century, it remains seminal, original, darkly lyrical, instructive, subversive, eloquent, heartbreaking, harsh, I hope no longer controversial—photography's Kind of Blue. Even if photography in this style is not your exact cup of tea, this book you should own. I shall remind you again in May.

____________________

Mike

ADDENDUM: Steidl, the publisher of the 50th Anniversary Edition of The Americans and of the Robert Frank Project (a comprehensive publishing and republishing of all his significant work), has a nice PDF about the project and the book. To get it, go here and follow the link. (Thanks to Ade for this tip.)

Reviewed by Mike Butler

Marty Parkes and Thomas L. Friedman, Classic Shots: The Greatest Images from the United States Golf Association. National Geographic, $35 ($23.10 from Amazon), 2007.

Link to Amazon U.S.

Link to Amazon U.K.

I stopped playing golf about eight years ago, about the time I started taking photography seriously again. I simply made a decision that if I had four hours of free time, I’d rather spend it driving down gravel roads than driving a Titleist.

But the game still holds power over me, luring me to the TV every Father’s Day for the final round of the U.S. Open. Will Phil Mickelson spray tee shots into the woods on this Sunday afternoon or conquer his demons and win? Even when Tiger Woods has a three-shot lead stepping up to the first tee, and I know he’s going to win like I know tomorrow is going to be Monday, I can sit back and marvel at his artistry, as even he occasionally does when he strikes an impossibly fine shot, then breaks into a sheepish grin.

The similarities between golf and photography are eerie to me. Each shot is a new beginning. You visualize and make decisions about what to do. You might be with some buddies, but they can’t help you. Good or bad, this shot is ultimately going to be about you and the story you have to tell. It’s not about the ball or the camera.

Certainly, Classic Shots isn’t going to appeal to those who’d rather spend time in a dentist’s chair than play, or watch, golf. But neither do I think that you have to be a fanatic to appreciate the way this book’s 250 photographs capture the game’s tradition, splendor, and drama.

The 9th Hole at Rush Creek Golf Club in Maple Grove, Minnesota.

Since the USGA formed in 1894 to promote and govern the game in America, it has been collecting photographs. In his introduction, senior director of communications Marty Parkes claims it was easy to winnow more than 500,000 images down to 400—but very difficult to cull from there. National Geographic editors helped.

A project like this could have easily turned into a boring encyclopedia or a dusty historical tome. It succeeds, I think, because it is so wonderfully subjective and eccentric. Sure, you’ll relive Payne Stewart’s winning putt at the 1999 Open at Pinehurst, but you’ll also laugh at a colorful iguana caught in the act of scampering across a green during an amateur event in Puerto Rico.

By organizing into regions, the editors allow you to open the book at any place and become immersed in a beautiful color landscape shot of Whistling Straits in Kohler, Wisconsin, or an elegant portrait of Tommy Armour taken outside Oakmont Country Club (suburban Pittsburgh) after winning the 1927 Open. Women are well represented, too, from Depression-era phenom Virginia Van Wie to present-day phenom Michelle Wie. The pictures transcend those who took them, many of whom are unknown or aren’t credited until a page in the back of the book.

Photographers loved Payne Stewart for the flamboyant way he played and suited up. He was at the top of his game when he died in a plane crash in 1999.

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In an afterword by Thomas L. Friedman, the New York Times columnist and Golf Digest contributing editor writes humorously and poignantly about how golf helped shape his character and forge a bond with his father while growing up in Minnesota. In 1970, as a 16-year-old, Friedman’s name was pulled out of a hat to caddie for one of the game’s greatest characters, Chi Chi Rodriguez, at Hazeltine in Chaska. (In those days, USGA officials didn’t allow professional caddies at the Open because it was thought they might give the pros an advantage over the amateurs.) Chi Chi finished 27th that week. Young Friedman pocketed $175 and so much more.

Twenty years later, some friends of the by-then best-selling author and two-time Pulitzer Prize winner bumped into Chi Chi at a Florida golf resort. They asked if he remembered who caddied for him at the 1970 Open. "Tommy," Chi Chi said, right away. Surprised, Friedman's friends then teased the old pro a little bit. "Do you know that Tommy’s more famous than you are today?" Chi Chi pondered that for a moment and said: "Not in Puerto Rico."

Nope, it’s not about the ball or the camera.

_________________________

Mike Butler is a hobbyist photographer living in Des Moines, Iowa.

Reviewed by Rod Purcell

Martin Parr, Garry Badger, The Photobook: A History, vol. 1
Phaidon Press, 320 pages. $75 ($47.25 on Amazon)

Link to Amazon U.S.

Link to Amazon U.K.

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Martin Parr, Garry Badger, The Photobook: A History, vol. 2
Phaidon Press, 336 pages. $75 ($47.25 on Amazon)

Link to Amazon U.S.

Link to Amazon U.K.

The authors suggest that the history and diversity of photography can best be understood through a review of photobooks, and, across the two volumes, some 400 selected books are reviewed. The basic premise here is that individual prints are limited in their distribution, exhibitions are local and transient, commercial works are particular to a market, so what is left as the preferred medium for the presentation and analysis of photography is the photobook.

One of the authors' central concepts is that the format of photobooks sits between that of the novel and film. In one sense this is obvious as novels generally do not contain images, whereas films have moving images, so still photography lies in between the two. However, this idea also implies that like novels and films, photobooks contain a narrative. In some cases this is true. On the other hand, to find a narrative, for example, in Ed Ruscha’s Twentysix Gasoline Stations requires considerable mental agility and imagination.

More generally the two volumes provide an interesting and welcome analysis, which succeeds in moving us away from the tyranny of the individual "photographer as genius" approach, to locating and exploring bodies of work in wider contexts. The authors have created 18 categories that relate in various ways to the chronology and geography of photography, but also to a selection of themes. These categorizations provide a useful frame of analysis. For example categories include:

From Volume 1
Topography and Travel—The First Photoboks
Photo Eye—The Modernist Photobook
Medium and Message—Photobook as Propaganda
The Indecisive Moment—The "Stream–of-Consciousness" Photobook

From Volume 2
Mirrors and Windows—The American Photobook since the 1970’s
Point of Sale—The Company Photobook
Looking at Photographs—The Picture Editor as Author
The Düsseldorf Tendency—The New Objective Photobook

These volumes include works that have been hard to access in the both in the UK where I live and many other countries. So one of the effects of reading these volumes is to realize what it is you have been missing. I now know about a range of excellent Dutch photographers about whom I had been previously unaware. Most importantly the chapters on Japanese photography (Moriyama, Araki, etc.) present essential material that is almost invisible here.

Each section has an overview written by Gary Badger. Some of the writing provides an informative background to the photobooks in question, but in places this can slip into to being rather generalized and superficial commentary. However the final chapters on the "Dusseldorf Tendency" (the Bechers, Thomas Struth and Andreas Gursky), and "Home and Away" (Bruce Gilden and Richard Billingham, but, surprisingly, not Nan Goldin, who is less appropriately placed in the "American Photos since 1970s" section) are for me the best, being very clearly written and informative.

But all is not perfect. The authors' definition of a photobook excludes monographs. I’m not convinced that this was due to any other reason than making the project manageable, or perhaps further monograph based volumes are to come. By default any photographer that did not produce a photobook is excluded. Other photographers are also excluded because a copy of their photobook was not available for review or that Parr and Badger didn’t rate it. This means that major photographers are missing form this collection. For example both Edward Weston and Sebastiao Salgado, who would surely be central in any review of 20th century photography, are absent. Perhaps out of modesty Martin Parr is also excluded. As an attempt therefore to provide an alternative history and overview of photography this project must be seriously flawed.

The project also falls down through the method of presentation, and this is the most frustrating thing about these volumes. Most of the selected photobooks have only a few (sometimes just one) illustrations and often they are reproduced very small. This is particularly true for early photobooks. For example John Thompson’s Illustration of China and its People has a single photograph less than one inch square. Man Ray’s La Photographie n’est par l’art also has one photograph, reproduced even smaller. Things improve with more recent works. Stephen Shore’s American Surfaces has two double page spreads illustrating eight prints at 2.75” x 2”. But this is about the best it gets. As the original of American Surfaces has 313 photographs, the abstract of eight prints cannot really convey what Shore was trying to do and how well he succeeded.

So we are told how important the books are, but we cannot see sufficient content to work this through for ourselves. As the two volumes run to over 600 pages it is unreasonable to expect fuller reproductions. But maybe this suggests that the future of photography is not, as the authors claim, with the photobook and print based publishing at all, but on the internet. What we need is the selected photobooks digitized and put on line in something like Mark Harden's Masters of Photography site. That really would be a resource to be valued.

Nevertheless, these are stimulating books—you can’t help but think that some of the categories are misconceived and photographers within them misplaced, but this pushes you to reconceptualize your understanding of photography, and that has to be a good thing. Recommended.

_________________

Rod Purcell was born in London, England. Over the past twenty years he has traveled and photographed widely in Europe, Asia and North Africa. Rod currently lives in  Scotland where he works at the University of Glasgow, writing, teaching and photographing on social action and cultural change.

Reviewed by Geoffrey Wittig

West of Last Chance, by Peter Brown and Kent Haruf

W.W. Norton & Company, 2008. $49.95 / $32.97 on Amazon

Link to Amazon U.S.

Link to Amazon U.K.

I love books of landscape photography, both as collections of beautiful images and as inspiration for my own work. Like many folks I started out with the usual suspects—Ansel Adams, the Westons—and moved on to pristine color landscapes by photographers like Art Wolfe and Robert Glenn Ketchum. I’m still a sucker for such eye candy, but with age I’ve come to appreciate the subtler, more commonplace beauty of austere or agricultural landscapes. Richard Brown’s poetic images of rural New England got me started. I can’t handle what you might call grunge landscape like much of Robert Adams’ or Richard Misrach’s work; too ugly and depressing. But not every beautiful landscape image has to include crashing surf or a towering mountain. Sometimes an endless prairie sky is enough.

West of Last Chance is an unusual amalgam of large format images by Peter Brown and short prose pieces written by Kent Haruf. Fiction readers may know Haruf as author of Plainsong (Knopf, 1999), a novel deftly crafted of spare, direct prose echoing its prairie setting. His work here shows the same skill, with brief vignettes that capture the essence of rural life on the Great Plains. Brown’s photographs are equally understated yet direct. Dirt section-roads run to the horizon under cloudless skies; a single bored-looking cow lies down amid limitless acres of stubble. The occasional junkyard or derelict tourist trap is offset by breathtaking views of that immense high-plains sky, or a lone cottonwood in a sea of grass. There are also a number of nicely done environmental portraits. The consistent color palette is one of subdued pastels, worn by years of sun and wind. Many of the small town images of hand-lettered signs, grain elevators or empty storefronts suggest David Plowden’s work, done in color. They have the same elegiac feel, as these farm communities are rapidly dying out.

The grasslands have a subtle beauty that is difficult to capture photographically. Likewise, the tiny farming towns on the plains have a rough-hewn character less obviously attractive than a quaint New England village. Brown's photographs have a quiet grace that does justice to their subjects. I’ve made several extended visits to South Dakota. Standing in the prairie wind under an impossibly huge sky, one feels very small. It’s almost like being on the ocean in a small boat. Peter Brown’s photographs, and Kent Haruf’s prose, succeed in conveying that feeling.

Physically the book is very nice. Its size at 10.2 x 12” permits large enough reproductions to see what's going on in the images, and none are defaced by printing them across the fold. The paper is semi-matte, with little sheen and very minimal gloss differential. The typeface chosen for Haruf’s text is, I believe, a Century Schoolbook variant, plain as a school primer, set in a smallish point size that whispers rather than shouts. Good work all around.

West of Last Chance was supported by Duke University’s Dorothea Lange-Paul Taylor prize, awarded to Brown and Haruf in 2005. The prize recognizes work in the spirit of An American Exodus (1939). This was a pioneering book combining Dorothea Lange’s iconic photographs with her husband Paul Schuster Taylor’s eclectic mix of quotations from dust bowl refugees, farmland sales brochures, newspaper clippings and historical anecdotes. Their goal was to produce a book that would inform readers about the Depression-era farm refugee crisis more completely and vividly than simple journalism could. For an interesting take on An American Exodus and its subsequent influence, check out A.D. Coleman’s erudite essay in Photo Techniques magazine, November/December 2006.

___________________

Geoff

Reviewed by Geoff Wittig

Nazraeli Press,* 2007. Retail $75, Amazon U.S. $60.20

Link to Amazon U.S., Amazon U.K., Amazon Canada

Flowers have to be one of the most photographed subjects imaginable. I mean, how can you not like flowers, right? Everyone with a camera is tempted to take a whack at them. I can recall pointing my brand-new Pentax 35mm SLR at my wife's day lilies nearly 20 years ago and burning through some rolls. When those K64 slides came back I was underwhelmed by the results. My wife glanced over my shoulder at the light box and muttered, "Maybe you should try birds or something." Other folks have obviously had more success. In the last two years "brand-name" photographers including Howard Schatz, Barbara Bordnick and Joyce Tenneson have all done books of flower images. Current fashion appears to favor close-ups of huge drooping blossoms, or sepia toned images of dried up and dying blooms. The books do seem to fly off the shelves, so there's obviously a market for them.

Given the ubiquitious, done-to-death nature of flower photos, it takes some work to do something creative. Scott Peck's gorgeous series of flowers frozen in ice is one unique effort. Tony Mendoza's new work, titled simply Flowers, is another. Mendoza is a Cuban-born photographer probably best known for Ernie, a book of photos of the cat he shared a loft with in NYC. Published in 1982, it acquired something of a cult following. The images are genuinely witty, in an Elliott Erwitt sort of way.

Flowers is a new direction for Mendoza. The introduction explains how he began photographing a community garden tended by his wife, finding that the zero incremental cost of digital exposures made it painless to experiment. The resulting book of images has a consistent style and æsthetic that kind of grew on me. I must confess that I find most flower photography saccharine to the point of nausea. Mendoza's work is different. The flowers are all photographed from ground level—i.e. from below—with relatively short focal lengths. All are lit with flash, most about a half stop to a stop "hotter" than the sky behind them. The resulting images are almost disorienting, sort of a "Land of the Giants" perspective where the occasional passing bumble bee looks the size of a beagle. Some of the flowers are clearly past their prime, others immaculate. The level of well-lit detail demonstrates how bizarre many plants are when you really study them closely.

As a physical object the book is impressive for its dimensions, 12.2 x17.6". The fifty plates are therefore large enough to have serious impact; the color and detail really hit the eye. Some care has obviously been taken in laying out the images; the color palette and tonality of facing pages harmonize perfectly. The only negative is a quirk of the printing process; the plates demonstrate bronzing when seen at a glare angle, though they look fine under normal illumination. This is a problem familiar to anyone who's ever tried printing on glossy paper with a pigment inkjet. Mendoza's witty introduction and afterward add a bit of perspective to the project.

If you love flowers and gardening, this book is worth a look for its unique take on the subject. It may inspire you to dust off your flash and look at your own backyard garden again. It also demonstrates once again the impact of a consistent body of work, perhaps inspiring folks to organize a portfolio of their own. And that's not a bad thing.

______________________

Geoff

*The website of Nazraeli Press, the publisher of Flowers, is well worth a look for those who are interested in fine art photography. They specialize in quirky titles, some of which you are very unlikely to see at your local Borders or Barnes & Noble. They also appear to spend little if anything on promoting their books, so you have to seek them out. Their backlist includes many books by such luminaries as Robert Adams, Michael Kenna, Todd Hiro and Kenro Izu.

Consider yourself warned, however: for bibliophiles it's like letting the horse loose in the grain bin. —G.W.

It's New Year's Day, a time for Bowl games, maybe a little more overeating, maybe some time for recovering from last night, and for many of us, generally a coda to the holiday season. Every year about this time we at T.O.P. cast our idiosyncratic net wide across the previous 364 days and see what still strikes us as remarkable or unusual. No one cares about our awards, which helps keep them both light and fun. Without further ado, here are our year-end plaudits as we usher out the photographic year that was.

T.O.P. Photographer of the Year 2007: Chris Jordan, for "Running the Numbers: American Self-Portrait." It's very seldom that photographic means, artistic ends, and social/economic/political meaning come together in work that looks and feels like nothing you've seen before.

Chris Jordan: Prison Uniforms, 2007. 10x23 feet in six vertical panels (Depicts 2.3 million folded prison uniforms, equal to the number of Americans incarcerated in 2005.)

Detail near actual size

Installed at the Von Lintel Gallery, New York city, June 2007

Chris Jordan's tableau have the beauty of abstractions and the significance of specificity. (Prison Uniforms is just one example.) They address one of the persistent failings of the human mind: our inability to conceive adequately of extremes of scope and scale. Jordan found a way to address this "scope and scale blindness" with our most acute and natural sense, sight, and in so doing has opened our not just our eyes but our minds. Brilliant, and bravo.

Reviewer of the Year: Rob Galbraith, for uncovering the autofocusing malfunction in the Canon EOS 1D Mark III. As reviewers and former magazine editors, we understand only too well what kind of work it takes to discover a flaw like this, which only pales in comparison to the cojones required to go public with it and stick by your guns while the big corporate battle wagons train their sixteen-inchers on your little butt. Rob's tests were thorough and rigorous and his presentation of his findings calm yet unflinching. After some initial, um, confusion by giant Canon, the company buckled down and found the specific technical problem causing the specific malfunction—and fixed it. Meaning, everybody who bought one of these cameras or who will buy one owes Rob an enormous debt. We kowtow in RG's general direction, chanting il critico miglior.

Photo Product of the Year: Harman Gloss FB AL paper. A fine baryta paper equally suited for black-and-white or color that mimics the look of air-dried glossy fiber-base paper. "Images look sharper on this paper than on any other paper we have seen. This means you need quite a bit less of sharpening for output." —Outback Photo. See the reviews on Outback Photo and The Luminous Landscape. This paper is already spawning imitators, such as Hahnemühle FineArt Baryta, Epson Exhibition Fiber, and Ilford Gold Fiber Silk. At some point during the coming year we hope to offer you a low-priced example print made on Harman Gloss FB AL, as well as examples of a few other outstanding materials and techniques. Workin' on it.

(Note: the link is to a 5-sheet sample pack that costs less than $5. Add it to your next order and give it a try.)

Comeback of the Year: Olympus, for finally following up on the ghost of the E-1 with the new E-3. Better late than never, as they say—and that's true, although it's also worth remembering that it's better to be on time than to be late.

Photo Book of the Year (popular): Ansel Adams: 400 Photographs. No book was more popular this year with our readers, who ordered more than 200 copies through our links, far more than any other title. Not only is this book surprisingly cheap—we would normally expect to pay twice to  four times its price for a book of this quality—but it adds usefully to the Adams canon in that it functions as a virtual catalogue raisonné of his works, from the beginning to the end of his long career. Not the best Adams book, but a good reference work to have whether your collection of other Adams titles is small or large—and a great place to start if your collection was previously nonexistent.

Photo Book of the Year (esoteric): Henry Wessel by Sandra Phillips, Thomas Zander, and Henry Wessel. A long-awaited and well-deserved retrospective exhibition catalog by this significant lesser master. Wessel has been true to his simple methods and his artistic vision over decades of assiduous work, and no book this year gave us greater pleasure than this one. The pictures may not be to everyone's taste, but on the other hand they are mercifully free of the styles 'n' fashions o' the moment in the always-fickle art world.

Photo Book of the Year (Technical/Historical): Nash Editions: Photography and the Art of Digital Printing by Garrett White (actually came out just a few days before 2007 began, but we're not finicky about stuff like that). In our post about it we called it "...a mandatory purchase—for anyone. It's basically the first universally important book of photography's digital age. Nominally it is a contemporary account of original history, a documentary of digital printing's "incunable" period and one of its biggest early influences, Graham Nash. And it's important enough just for that. But it's also a wonderful collection of pictures, bringing together a large, beautiful, and indeed inspiring portfolio from the seminal work of this studio. It looks modest by its cover, and its title doesn't hint at its true importance—but don't let that fool you."

Photo Book of the Year (reissue): The Photographer's Eye by John Szarkowski. MoMA has made it possible for a new generation of photographers to acquaint themselves up close and personal with its former Photography Department Director's didactic little tour of photography's essential mysteries. Not a book to love, possibly, but one to ponder for anyone who has ambitions. The reappearance of this essential little gem was made all the more poignant by Szarkowski's passing, in July of this past year, at the age of 81.

Camera of the Year: Nikon D3. A balls-to-the-wall pro model camera isn't perhaps of the greatest usefulness or relevance to most non-pro shooters, but there's little question that Nikon's new pro flagship takes top honors as the product of products for '07. The D3 outpoints its also-brand-new Canon rival in a number of areas—including high-ISO noise, apparently, long thought to be Canon's strongest suit. The tandem of the D3 and the D300 have been widely considered to be the strongest arguments yet for the resurgence of Nikon as it attempts to establish its historic position, held over several decades, as the #1 cameramaker, a title it ceded to Canon in the 1990s.

Runners-up: Olympus E-3, Sony A700, Nikon D300.

Digicam of the Year: Ricoh GR Digital II. A clear favorite (along with the original GR-D) of our readers, the GRII is a photographer's camera, with a fixed lens (modifiable by converters if you don't like the f-l) and high image quality. It's customizable, though its operational settings are direct and controllable. Although it doesn't beat a DSLR as a low-light camera, it's also a lot more pocketable, and a camera you have with you is a better camera than a camera you left at home. The GRII (available in the USA from Adorama) is the leading indicator that the "street camera" of the future may have a small sensor.

(Joint) Lens of the Year: Carl Zeiss Vario-Sonnar T* DT 16–80mm ƒ/3.5–4.5 (24–120mm-e) and Olympus Zuiko Digital ED 12–60mm ƒ/2.8–4 SWD (also 24–120mm-e). Two all-purpose lenses of impeccable pedigree and faultless performance. Not our favorite genre of lens, although the market in its infinite wisdom hath spoken: big, slowish 5X zooms are the wave of the moment in standard lenses.

Truth be told, the time for really enthusiastic lens connoisseurship has probably passed; the image remains malleable in important respects after being reported by the lens to the recording medium, on the one hand, and on the other, the standards of design and manufacture have been mastered by the world's lensmakers to a point where most good lenses serve very well for photography without serious limits. We're in an age when some budget lenses (for instance, the Olympus 14–42mm) and lenses with downmarket names can perform at a very high standard. Still, there is something pleasing about a fine lens. Both of these are excellent examples of the art, highly competent and with admirably minimized shortcomings. Either one would do well as an only lens for most photographers on any of the cameras they fit.

Cartoon of the Year: Hey, we still love this! Can you blame us?

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Worst Camera of the Year: Fuji FinePix S8000fd. Want an inferior itty-bitty sensor without the convenience of point-and-shoot pocketability? Want an absurdly long zoom range so you'll be sure to suffer optical inferiority at both extremes, with lots of colorful purple fringing? And, you say, you want all this wrapped in a package with all the industrial stylishness of a videogame controller? Look no further than the Fuji S8000fd, which also recognizes human faces for you, in case you're not sure where in the absurdly tiny EVF viewfinder they might be.

There were, let's face it, a number of products vying for this award this year, and the S8000fd doesn't necessarily deserve to be singled out over all these others. But it's as good an example as any of "the camera as appliance," with too many features but limited controllability, and it's a paragon of several directions in camera design we just don't want to encourage. If you're thinking of this camera or one like it, please just come to your senses and buy a D40, Rebel XTi, or another solid entry-level DSLR instead.

Disappointment of the Year: The continuing emptiness of the "DMD" small street-camera category. The Sigma DP-1 didn't appear, and neither did anything else like it, despite several other important voices on the web (most notably, Thom Hogan's) joining me in calling for it. Let's hope we're not all bemoaning the same thing at the end of 2008.

Discovery of the Year: Photographer Bill Emory, who's been working for a long time—we just didn't know it. His beautiful, sad, and touching photo-essay "Sun Dog" was certainly one of the memorable ones of 2007 for us.

Magnanimous Gesture of the Year: The Luminous Landscape Endowment, established by Michael Reichmann with a portion of the profits from his and Jeff Schewe's epic video instruction series From Camera to Print. "The sole purpose of this not-for-profit foundation will be to provide a source of otherwise unavailable financial assistance to creative photographers. This funding may be used by photographers like you to pursue a special project, further formal photographic education, finance project related travel, or to mount an exhibition or show. Almost any worthwhile project associated with fine art photography will be considered." Despite being on the Selection Committee for the Endowment, I haven't heard anything more about it since its inception, and I do question whether such a foundation can really be viable in the long run without the services of a full-time grant writer. But I'm sure it's only a matter of time before applications are accepted and funds awarded, and in any event it's a fine, even noble, idea—whatever becomes of it. This is just the sort of thing I talk about a lot, and never do anything about. All props to MR for taking this particular bull by the horns.

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New Year's Day is a time for taking stock: looking back, looking forward; making plans, clarifying ambitions, and, of course, setting resolutions.  It's a time to be both hopeful and grateful. 2007 was a fun year for me, and you and all my readers here on T.O.P. helped make it so; thank you. I have high expectations of the year to come. I hope you do too, and I wish you and your loved ones health, happiness, accomplishment, and many good memories to come. And now, off I go, to continue writing "2007" on my checks until about the end of March.

-                                                                                                               —Mike J.

I'm a little mystified by the decidedly mixed reactions to Geoff's review of Amadou's black-and-white book. Perhaps what explains it is that there's a real hunger out there for advanced information (well, at least in our audience), and the book is too basic for those people.

I got into photography seriously in 1980, and by the time I enrolled in photography school (by accident—now there's a story, but it will have to await another occasion) in 1982, photo instruction books had already reached the point of diminishing returns for me—that is, I already knew most of what the majority of them contained, and each successive title yielded less and less new information. I finally got to the point that the effort just wasn't worth the return, and I stopped reading them. (Actually, I went through a period where I couldn't read them, because my mind would refuse to concentrate. I'd stare at the page like a zombie, thinking furiously about something entirely unrelated.)

I tend to recall most vividly the books that made the biggest impact on me when I was first learning, and then the books that expanded my knowledge usefully after I had mastered all the basics. The former group included David Vestal's The Craft of Photography (long out of print, despite my best efforts over the years to help it get reprinted) and The New Ansel Adams Photography Series vols. 1–3, The Camera, The Negative, and The Print; and the latter included Dr. Richard Henry's Controls in Black-and-White Photography (Second Edition), Image Clarity by John B. Williams, and (although it didn't have much to do with the practice of photography) Norman Goldberg's Camera Technology: The Dark Side of the Lens.

It didn't take me terribly long to completely master traditional black-and-white printing, although perhaps I'm discounting the long hours I spent in the darkroom experimenting—discounting it because I enjoyed it. As my knowledge increased, a number of things happened with regard to my relationship with technical books, aside from what I described above. For one thing, I tended to narrow down into my own major interests, which allowed me to shunt aside those books that fell outside of that interest—so I never really engaged with books about alternative processes, color, or lighting (I learned lighting mainly in the studio). Also, of course, I began discovering sloppiness and outright errors in the books I did read. And I began to be aware of "schools" of thought and theory, many of which were antagonistic to each other. (Richard Henry, a retired chemist, was motivated to carry out many of his experiments by the multitudinous errors—some egregious, some subtle—spread far and wide by Fred Picker of Zone VI Studios, at one time an influential "guru.") This last issue really came to the forefront when I became Editor-in-Chief of Photo Techniques, where I moderated a pseudo-journal that published articles by a number of competing experts, several of whom had a very low opinion of one another! (That's another long and entertaining story, but one that will also have to await another time for the telling.)

That Amadou's book doesn't contain much information on the aesthetics of fine printmaking isn't a surprise, as few books do. I remember being struck by the same absence in Harald Johnson's otherwise fine book Mastering Digital Printing. It's a tough subject to tackle because it's just "soft" enough that it requires a delicate hand, and considerable flexibility, on the part of an author. Ironically, it's just the sort of thing at which I myself excel. That makes me feel low, because it forces me to confront the fact that I just don't have the stamina and energy to write a book on the subject. Not to get all confessional on you, but I suffer from chronic depression and low energy, and there are just some things I can't do (even some of the things I think I can). Writing whole books on speculation (i.e., with no advance from a publisher) is one of them.

At any rate, Amadou's book struck me just about the same way it struck Geoff; I've recommended to many times to many people. However, obviously you should take that with a grain of salt, as it's apparently not making everyone happy. I just assume that most people in need of a technical book are going to be at a certain beginner-to-intermediate level where much of the information Amadou presents is going to be helpful and useful. If that's not the case for some people, it strikes me as not so much an indictment of the book itself as evidence that they've chosen the wrong book; but that's my interpretation, and others have different interpretations.

Here are a couple of comments recommending alternatives, and at the end of this post I'll build a list of Amazon links to all the books mentioned in this posting (please have patience for the fact that several of the books that I've mentioned are not in print). I would promise to dig out Uwe Steinmuller's book and give it a review, except that I hardly see the point in adding one more unfinished task to my long list of unfinished tasks or of making a promise that I won't have the git-up-an'-go to git up and do. And I note that there is a book by John Beardsworth called Advanced Black & White Digital Photography, and the same author also has a book called Digital Black & White Photography, which would seem to imply that the latter is more basic and the former more, well, advanced—but I don't know either book at all, so don't take this mention as an endorsement.

Sorry to be so U.S.A.-centric with the links list, too, but it would take me all morning to build all of these links for every country's Amazon. Our links to Amazons in other countries can be found on the lower right-hand side of this page. Thanks again for using our links; it brings a little income our way.

Anyway, Caveat emptor ("buyer beware")—but there are riches here, too.

Featured Comment by Yanchik: "Suggestion: John and David Collett, Black and White Landscape Photography. 1) It's only Landscape. 2) Its technical content is pre-digital. 3) It's, um, non-intellectual. That is to say, it would be suitable for a motivated sixteen year old or an internet Everyman. If you can talk about vehicular medium specificity, this is beneath your knowledge...however, it does have five pages on landscape photography as art starting from "What is art ?"; 46 pages on Composition Techniques, and only 22 pages on equipment, darkroom techniques, and the Zone System. So for me it's a handy primer/reminder on the nuts-and-bolts of composition, complementary to the AA trio of books. Can anyone do better? Post away; I for one would be pleased to see other ideas."

Featured Comment by Ken Tanaka: Part of Mastering Digital Black and White's Chapter 5 really does deal with B&W conversions. Chapter 6 discusses printing B&W, albeit at a somewhat cursory level.

The best all-around book on "geting the most" from raw image files is the newest edition of Real World Camera Raw with Adobe Photoshop CS3. With all respect to the late pioneer Bruce Fraser, who authored the first edition, Jeff Schewe has taken this book to a whole new level of information richness and usefulness. If you don't already own this book, just buy it now. [And if you're not up for an entire book, note the ad in the upper left-hand corner of this page, for Michael Tapes' excellent "RAW Without FUD (fear, uncertainty, and doubt)" video. Much of the same content, much more painlessly. —Ed.]

Regarding books specifically dealing with B&W conversions there are several (including one by Michael Freeman that shares the same title as this one). There are also a few that deal nicely with the topic within the general "digital photography" realm. It seems like there are a ridiculous number of "digital photography" books on the shelves today, most of which are the same ol' same ol'.

Honestly, though, I don't think that you'll find nirvana in any current or future book. There are no dance-step formulas for achieving "success" with B&W conversions or color corrections  Today's tools give you remarkable power and precision for such tasks, making experimentation the best at-hand tutor. Take the time to learn your tools. Take the time to learn through experimentation with your images. Success with digital image processing, whether color or b&w, rests largely on FIRST having a vision of what you want to accomplish. I have long suspected that the vast majority of digital shooters miss this fundamental requirement and spend most of their time stumbling through Photoshop "tricks," arriving at a "finished product" only when they tire of working on the image.

While the skill profile for digital darkroom expertise might seem very different than that of the wet darkroom, in fact they're different only in their tools. (Having precedent knowledge in a wet darkroom only helps you envision the potential.) Both require a measure of talent and large measures of practice and failure. Books may promise to offer mastery in 300 pages but it just ain't so.

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Books cited in this post (in order of mention):

Amadou Diallo, Mastering Digital Black and White: A Photographer's Guide to High Quality Black-and-White Imaging and Printing (Digital Process and Print)

David Vestal, The Craft of Photography

Ansel Adams, The Camera (Ansel Adams Photography, Book 1)

Ansel Adams, The Negative (Ansel Adams Photography, Book 2)

Ansel Adams, The Print (Ansel Adams Photography, Book 3)

Richard J. Henry, Controls in Black-And-White Photography

John B. Williams, Image Clarity: High-Resolution Photography

Norman Goldberg, Camera Technology: The Dark Side of the Lens

Harald Johnson, Mastering Digital Printing, Second Edition (Digital Process and Print)

Uwe Steinmueller, Fine Art Printing for Photographers: Exhibition Quality Prints with Inkjet Printers

John Beardsworth, Advanced Black & White Digital Photography (A Lark Photography Book)

John Beardsworth, Digital Black & White Photography

John and David Collett, Black & White Landscape Photography

Bruce Fraser and Jeff Schewe, Real World Camera Raw with Adobe Photoshop CS3 (Real World)

Michael Freeman, Mastering Black and White Digital Photography (A Lark Photography Book)

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Oh, and a P.S. from MJ: "Mastery" does indeed imply someone who is learning; a "masterpiece" was, in the guilds, the final exam of a journeyman who was aspiring to open his own shop. We now widely misuse the term to mean something created by a master, but that wasn't its original meaning. So I think the word "mastering" in a book title does accurately imply the struggle to bring oneself up to a minimum standard of mastery, rather than implying that by the time you're done you'll have all of the knowledge a true master has. Nit-picky, but hey, it's what editors do.

_____________________

Mike  (Thanks to Ken and Yanchik)

P.P.S. This post was way too much like work (smile).

Feastured Comment by Antonis: "We should consider ourselves rather lucky that Amadou has put in one place most of the essential information for making digital B&W prints. Not only is B&W printing a niche largely ignored by the big printer manufacturers but the knowledge and technology necessary for top B&W prints is either scattered across the internet or may even be considered 'proprietary' by some of the more advanced printers who make a living with it. Having a serious book on the subject not only jump-starts the process for newcomers, it also signals to manufacturers that there is a community and a market out there they should not ignore.

"Back in July 2001 when we started the yahoo group DigitalBlackandWhiteThePrint there was a real need to put our collective heads together to figure out how to best use available resources. Now, six years, 9000 members and some 90,000 messages (!) later, besides sharing up-to-the-minute developments in B&W techniques, this group has become a historical record of the rapid evolution in the field and of how people dealt with it.

"Yet, as everyone who tried it knows, to get  complete up-to-date information on printing B&W digitally one has to spend hours and days and weeks sifting through messages and posting questions hoping the more knowledgeable would  volunteer to help the newcomers. Such is life on most forums, of course, especially those dealing with technical matters.

"So to get a nice book—or two—gathering a whole lot of esoteric knowledge in one place, should offer a much needed solid ground for a lot of people who may be floating out there trying to make sense of all the jargon in those forum messages. Needless to say, no single volume will fit all tastes and all expectations, neither will it magically update itself by the hour—which is what it would take to keep up with the latest.

"For that we are back to life online as usual. And for those willing to invest the time, there are now far more forums and even more messages to wade through than there were less than a decade ago. The idea then is to learn from the printed page without losing sight of that bigger context which will always be in flux."

Reviewed by Geoffrey Wittig

Mastering Digital Black and White by Amadou Diallo
Thomson, 2007; retail $39.99 / $26.39 on Amazon

Link to Amazon U.S.

Link to Amazon U.K.

Go to any large bookstore these days and you’ll find many books on digital photography; probably four or five shelves of books on Photoshop alone. If you’re looking for something on digital black & white, however, your choices are far more limited. There are perhaps five or six recent “hobbyist” level books on the subject with remarkably similar content. Most contain a review of the basics of digital capture and scanning, file formats and the like. Then there’s a generic discussion of hardware (monitor/computer/printer), paper and ink. Next is a review of image editing technique at a fairly cursory level, and then lots of pages devoted to the digital emulation of toning, hand-coloring and "alternative processes" such as faux-cyanotype or lith printing. There are lots of nice pictures, but you sail through one of these books without ever really coming to grips with the nuts and bolts of producing a really fine digital print. Sort of like cotton candy: appealing at first, but in the long run not very satisfying.

Amadou Diallo’s Mastering Digital Black and White is very different. Deceptively small at about 7.5 x 9", this book appears to cram into its 370 pages almost everything there is to know on the subject.

Its subtle design contributes. The text is eminently readable, with near-optimal line length. Photos and illustrations are just large enough to see what’s going on, without hogging space more profitably devoted to the informative text.

And informative it is. Diallo is a photographer, teacher and master printer who runs his own studio in Brooklyn, NY. His writing is admirably clear and direct without being dull. He doesn’t condescend or over-simplify. This is the only book I have seen that approaches digital black & white photography with the kind of rigor and attention to detail seen in the Ansel Adams trio of books that many of us learned photography from.

The book begins with a sample of Diallo’s eclectic work, though it’s fair to say the small format doesn’t do his images justice. He moves on to a refreshingly specific discussion of what’s required to outfit a digital darkroom capable of producing excellent prints. Books on digital imaging tend to outdate very rapidly, but as of December 2007 his recommendations are entirely current. He frankly addresses the "technology treadmill," dryly noting that while digital has advantages over the traditional darkroom, "sadly, cost is not one of them."

Subsequent chapters delve deeply into the nitty-gritty of digital black & white. "Color Management for the Black and White Photographer" sounds like an oxymoron. Instead it’s a remarkably lucid discussion of the underlying principles and practical application of color management to monochrome work. Ironically, accurate color management is very important to "monochrome" because color casts or crossover problems are easier to see than in a color print. Anyone who has lived through the gross metamerism and color crossover of early digital black & white will appreciate how profiling, soft-proofing, and other tools are finally yielding repeatable, controllable results. "Photoshop in Black and White" includes lots of details about specific settings for optimum control, but it also includes the clearest explanation I have ever read of Photoshop’s blending modes. Diallo gives you a detailed set of tonal control methods to solve most any problem. Yes, many of them are available in those huge Photoshop tomes; but here they’re concisely presented without a lot of filler. "Black and White Inkjet Printing" gets into the specifics of the printing process, with detailed discussion of the options for black & white printing provided by the latest printers from the "big three"—Epson, Canon and HP. This is narrowly focused on pigment ink photographic printers, ignoring the $89 specials at Costco. RIP options are also discussed. Finally, "The Imaging Workflow" uses several interpretive prints to illustrate a repeatable and logical sequence devoted to optimizing quality, from capture to print.

The last two chapters are "The Limited Edition" and "The Portfolio." While a limited edition may exceed the ambitions of digital dilettantes like myself, the concept of a portfolio encompassing a unified and consistent body of work can bring valuable focus and direction to anyone’s work. Diallo spells out what is involved in producing a limited edition, right down to requirements of state law and certificates of authenticity.

As an added bonus, several chapters conclude with the author interviewing well-known figures in digital photography. Included are interviews with such luminaries as Henry Wilhelm (the authority on photographic permanence), Jon Cone (inventor of quad-black printing and the Piezography system), and Roy Harrington (author of QuadToneRIP, the widely used shareware). The print versions are brief, but readers are pointed to a website with free downloadable MP3 versions, some as long as 40 minutes. These are fascinating discussions, often digging deep into the intersection between art and technology. Great stuff.

To sum things up, if your goal is to produce a tolerable 8 x 10” black and white print on your home inkjet, there are a number of books available to help you. If instead you want to consistently produce black and white digital prints of the highest quality, while understanding the controls and tools at your disposal, there’s only one. My copy of Mastering Digital Black and White is getting so dog-eared and battered from constant use, I may have to buy another.

_________________

Geoff

Geoff Wittig is a small town family physician with a passionate photography obsession. He spends most of his free days hiking and photographing—mostly rural landscapes—and sells enough prints to pay for ink and paper.

Featured Comment by wtlloyd: "This is a fantastic book, and not only for black and white printmakers...the early chapters gather together much of what passes as current conventional wisdom regarding digital photography. In this, it is really more of a primer, useful for all. Everyone should have a copy."

Reviewed by Stan Banos

Iraq: The Space Between, photographs by Christoph Bangert, Introduction by Jon Lee Anderson

PowerHouse Books, October 2007. $35 / $23.10 on Amazon

Whatever you may think about the current debacle in Iraq, Christoph Bangert's photos in Iraq: The Space Between are some of the most compelling to have emerged from that living hell. And that's because his eye goes well beyond mere newsprint criteria—how anyone creates "art" under war conditions is truly beyond reason. Aiming cameras and deciding proper light and framing while others are aiming guns is hardly conducive to the creative process. And yet Bangert, like Capa, Meiselas, and Nachtwey before him, manages to thrive under just such conditions. His bold colors and dynamic wide angle scenarios are matched and counterbalanced by content that can be: dramatic (grievously wounded or grieving civilians), ironic (the fragile female beauty of an adolescent entrapped within a nearly deserted house almost reads like a fashion spread), or both (the lush color of a truck's canopy surrounding suspected insurgents is downright Egglestonian). All this from a guy who relaxes by then going on a cross-country solo excursion across the continent of Africa.

But despite the dramatic content and composition described, I can't be too enthusiastic in my endorsement due to the presentation and layout of the book itself. Many of the photos in Iraq: The Space Between are two-page spreads that do not fully extend to either side (to avoid cropping). It's bad enough that the picture gets "interrupted" by being run across the gutter, but the viewing experience is then further disrupted by an annoying blank white border to one side of the image. Imagine having a white matt solely to the left or right of a photograph at a gallery exhibit!

One photograph that truly exemplifies the problem is a minimalist composition involving a barrier in the desert. The barrier consists of nothing more than a striped horizontal line that divides the photograph into two equal halves of earth and sky- which in turn then finds itself competing with the white "border" section to the left of the picture. The entire photo is effectively thrown off balance and incorporated into what becomes one very confused and discombobulated graphic.

So you can imagine my surprise when I removed the dust jacket—only to find a smaller, more modest reproduction of the same image on the book's cover! Without the noise of the gutter and the off-centered layout, the original composition became immediately apparent and easily appreciated. To make matters worse, other individual, unrelated photographs are often joined back-to-back as a disconcerting "panorama" of images, effectively reducing and nullifying the inherent power and composition that these singular images were originally intended to portray. Such a presentation should only be considered when the individual images are too weak to stand on their own.

As you may have gathered, I'm not particularly a fan of the bigger-is-better syndrome when it comes to "mutilating" photographs by running them across both sides of a two-page spread. And while all the photos of Iraq: The Space Between do not fall under the "fine art" category (some were taken from the window of an armored vehicle—the limited embedded access no doubt hindered as much as it helped), the arrangement and presentation of anyone's images in such a slipshod manner is a disservice to all involved. These powerful and eloquent photographs deserve better, and this book serves as a potent primer on how not to assemble and present what remains a most outstanding series of images.

________________________

Stan Banos

Featured Comment by Greg Heins: "I'm still waiting for the book that runs the text across the gutter."

Not long after I published Geoff Wittig's recent review of Alfred Stieglitz: Photographs and Writings, I was surprised to receive the following email from one Chris Green:

In 1983, four or five lifetimes ago it seems, I was the production director for Callaway Editions when the Stieglitz Photographs and Writings book was created. I spent many weeks of very long days working closely with Steve Stinehour and his team at the Meriden Gravure Co. in Meriden, Connecticut and the Stinehour Press in Lunenburg, Vermont. 

I did all of the press supervision, working directly from the Stieglitz originals, as well as a wide variety of other tasks related to the production of the first edition, first and second printings. This book was truly a labor of love by people we considered the best in the business.

I’ve kept 10 sealed copies of the first printing of the first edition for the last 25 years, waiting for an opportunity to find good homes for them with people who will enjoy and appreciate them. The books are in their original shrink-wrap inside their original sealed shipping cartons. They have never been opened since they were created. Having read the recent review and discussion on your site about a recent version of the book, it occurs to me that some of your readers might give these first editions good homes.

I’m not interested in trying to make a lot of money from these books. It’s not about the money. It’s about finding knowledgeable people who will appreciate them for their extraordinary quality.

I just did an inflation check on the Web. Given the books’ original MSRP of $125.00 (1983 dollars), their equivalent sticker price today would be [$251.75 to $262.22 based on several inflation calculators]. 

I am willing to sell these books for $250 each, plus shipping (and tax for NJ residents). This seems like a fair price to me, and I cannot, in good conscience, simply give them away for $50.

Yes, there have been many, many reprints of this book since the first edition, and there are many variant versions which are readily available at relatively low prices. Having said that, though, these are the real deal, and these are the only ones where the printing was constantly monitored against the originals.

-

This happens from time to time in book collecting—a true stash of pristine originals shows up and come on  the market ever so briefly. I mentioned earlier that I happen to have a first edition of this book in my own library already, so I passed along Chris's offer to several photographer, book dealer, and book collector friends, and several people, including Michael Reichmann and Geoff Wittig himself, have each claimed one.

...But there should still be five or six left. $250 is a lot of money for a book, but it's an excellent price for a pristine first edition of this one. Chris has offered to include with each book a letter of provenance restating the information from his email above, which can only add to the interest of the books.

If you'd like  to commit to buy one, please leave a comment, and I'll forward them to Chris in the order received. (T.O.P. isn't taking a cut or handing the exchange—you'll deal directly with him.)

_________________________

Mike

P.S. To answer the inevitable question, yes, if it were me, I'd definitely crack open the packaging and tear off the plastic and look at the book. It might be worth slightly more as an investment in its original packaging—who knows?—but what's the use of owning a fine book if you can't look at it? Even a rare old bottle of wine should one day be raised in a toast among friends and tasted.

NOTE: I have forwarded the first thirteen or so names along to Chris, for what I believe are six available copies of the book. (The emails came in too rapidly for me to do better than that.) Even if several people don't follow through, they're probably all gone now. Thank you for your interest, and I'm sorry if you missed the opportunity!

Reviewed by Geoffrey Wittig

Bulfinch Press, 1999. (OOP*)

I love photography books; as my wife points out, I already own too many of them. Some are just collections of pretty images I admire, while others are books of technique that have taught me something.  A small handful are beautiful art objects in their own right. This is one of them.

There are many books out there about Stieglitz, running the gamut from brief summaries to dissertations to reproductions of his seminal Camera Work. Some are inexpensive paperbacks with photographic reproduction quality varying from dismal to marginally adequate. Even the pricier hardcovers often have mediocre reproductions. Part of the problem is simply the range of Stieglitz's work. All of it is nominally "black and white," but he used a wide variety of printing methods, from platinum and palladium to photogravure, and finally to gelatin silver prints. Each printing method has its own characteristic image structure, with different tonal range, D-max, and color. High quality offset book printing nowadays can do a remarkably good job of reproducing many of the subtleties of these different prints—provided the publisher and book designer have the motivation, the skill and the resources to do so. Most just don't bother; it's more profitable to crank out another $29.95 softcover with "adequate" reproductions.

This is a long-winded introduction for a book that I think represents a pinnacle of the printing arts. Alfred Stieglitz: Photographs and Writings is actually a reprint of the superb catalog of the Stieglitz photography exhibit at the National Gallery of Art in Washington. The original was published by Nicholas Callaway of Callaway Editions in 1983 as a limited edition. It was no ordinary book; the designer was Eleanor Morris Caponigro, then wife of photographer Paul Caponigro. The text was printed letterpress on art paper, and the photographic reproductions were of the highest quality. It included an informative introduction by curator and Stieglitz authority Sarah Greenough. Following the plates were notes on individual images, and a selection of essays and letters by Stieglitz representative of his thoughts on art and photography.

In 1999, in association wth another Stieglitz exhibit, the book was reprinted. And here's the cool part: this is no reduced-scale offset facsimile. It is printed letterpress as a page-for-page exact reproduction, from newly set metal type, on heavyweight art paper. The photographic plates likewise are highest quality tri-tones with ink carefully matched to the tones of the original prints. The actual printing was done at Stamperia Valdonega, in Verona Italy—the printing house established by Giovanni Mardersteig, one of the truly great book printers of the 20th century. It's a large tome at 28.4 x 36.4 cm (11.2 x 14.3 inches). Such a monumental work would normally cost...well, a lot. Letterpress printing is an incredibly labor-intensive process. In a remarkable act of corporate generosity, Eastman Kodak underwrote the cost of the printing. The resulting book sold at a list price of $75, absurdly low given the care and expense devoted to its production. Here's the thing...you can still buy a new, shrink-wrapped copy of this book. As I write these words, there is a stack of them in the Eastman House bookstore discounted for $49.95! My advice: buy a copy now while you can.

This is one of the finest books I have ever seen, and I have been collecting books for 20 years. The 73 photographic plates show Stieglitz's work sequentially, moving from early pictorialist work through his better known images of New York City, portraits of Georgia O'Keefe and other contemporary artists, through his 'equivalents' and later works. Included are many of his "greatest hits," such as The Steerage (left). Having seen the exhibit, I can attest that the plates carefully reproduce the character of the original prints.

The quality of the text printing is simply stunning. Permit me a digression on this point. Essentially all modern book printing is web/offset; the text is imaged onto printing plates which pick up and deposit ink onto the surface of the page. Text looks "painted on" because, well, it is. It's fast, it's sharp, and it's cheap. Traditional letterpress printing, from Gutenberg circa 1455 until the 1960s, is very different. "Type" was made of actual metal letters in reverse, composed by the page, then inked, and pressed into the paper. The resulting text is sculpturally engraved into the page; you can run your finger down a line of text and feel the impressions. You can see the relief of the letters in glancing light. A well printed letterpress page seems almost to shine out from the paper; it has a three dimensional quality utterly lacking from offset printing. Alfred Stieglitz: Photographs and Writings is set in Monotype Bembo (one of the best "classic revival" metal typefaces) and expertly printed letterpress by one of the worlds' finest printing houses. I can say without fear of contradiction that you will never find another book of this artistic quality for such a fire-sale price. To give you some perspective, new volumes printed letterpress for the collector market typically start at $700 and escalate from there.

The contents of the book are up to the quality of the printing. Greenough's introductory essay nicely explains Stieglitz's importance to the evolution of photography as art in America. The selection of essays and letters following the plates is also judicious. Stieglitz was erudite and determined; he could also be smug and condescending. The writings reproduced here nicely demonstrate both sides of his personality.

If you own only one book on Stieglitz, this is the one to have**. Scholars and devotees may prefer the monumental Key Set, a two volume $150 boxed set reproducing all of the prints in the possession of Georgia O'Keefe after Stieglitz's death. The Key Set has over 1600 images in chronological order with extensive notes on the printing processes used, and is a priceless resource for those who want to look deeper. It includes many alternative prints made from the same negative, hence providing a look at how Stieglitz worked to interpret an image. It also has extensive commentary by Greenough, and its photographic reproduction quality is quite high. As an example of the book arts, however, it's not quite in the same league as Photographs and Writings.

______________________

Geoff Wittig is a small town family physician with a passionate photography obsession. He spends most of his free days hiking and photographing—mostly rural landscapes—and sells enough prints to pay for ink and paper.

*This title has only recently gone out of print; you may still be able to find copies at bookstores, by mail order, or even at remainder tables. I have not been able to find a source online. It's worth a search: I have the 1983 first edition, which now sells for between $350 and $600 depending on condition; the value of this reissue, too, will only go up as time passes. —MJ

**I definitely second this judgment. —MJ

Featured Comment by Ken Tanaka: "Thank you for this write-up, Geoffrey. Alfred Stieglitz is probably the most studied, debated, publicized, and generally ruminated photographer in history. Of course the impact of his own photography almost pales when it's compared to the impact he made on contemporary art in general and modern photography in particular through his exhibition initiatives. While I am not a goggles-on fan I never seem to tire of looking at his work or reading about him. While we're on the subect of ol' Al, I recently bought a DVD of the American Masters series on him. It's really quite good. The photography looks terrific, Georgia O'Keefe interviews are featured throughout the piece, and the narrative is engaging."

Featured Comment by Milo47: "Just ordered one from the Eastman House book store. They still have that stack in stock. Call (585) 271-3361, dial 0 for the operator, and ask for the "museum shop." If you get voice-mail, leave a message; they'll call back. $57.95 with shipping to Georgia."

A few days ago, forbes.com published a list of the "Most Obese Cities in America," and the city I live near—Milwaukee—placed 17th. (I was glad, but surprised, that we weren't in the top ten.) One of the interesting theories about the cause of the obesity epidemic in America was advanced by Morgan Spurlock (of the movie Supersize Me) in his book version of the film, which is called Don't Eat This Book. Spurlock's contention is that one of the many reasons we eat too much of the calorie-dense, nutrient-deficient foods that are killing us is because we can't resist a deal. When a fast-food joint offers to "supersize" something—essentially, double the amount for a small added cost—it's a powerful incentive to buy for people whose money is scarce and needs to be stretched. Milwaukee also suffers from a high number of occupants living below the poverty line—26%, double the U.S. national average of 13%.

I catch myself falling for the same ruse sometimes when it comes to buying both music and books. The value of music is not measurable in terms of the minutes per dollar it costs, and I fully understand that...in my head. But I still balk at paying, say, full price for a 26-minute CD, no matter how fine the music, and I am susceptible to the bargain implicit in a particularly high minute-per-dollar ratio—this fine jazz CD, for instance, that I reviewed here, which offers the most great music for the lowest price of any CD I've purchased in at least a year. It's a splendid program and has a superlative minutes-per-dollar ratio.

I'm also susceptible to a bargain when it comes to photo books, too—even by the crude measure of weight per dollar. Consider this recent near-novelty title—actually a presentation of a serious photography collector's dog snapshots from last century. Granted, this is aimed at pet lovers, not people who are into photography (and has the cutesy little quotes in faux cursive script to prove it), but I love this little book flagrantly and unconditionally, if somewhat thoughtlessly—rather like my dog's love for me and my son, actually—despite its fundamentally unserious nature. I love dogs and I love old snapshot photographs—and I appreciate a bargain: hey, a sturdy hardback, an inch thick, decently printed, with a distinctive, decorative cover, for $10.17? Can't beat that with a rolled-up newspaper.

Patrick O'Hare, Sam's Club, Waterbury, Connecticut

Into the Slipstream
So here's my dilemma. I very much like the work of Patrick O'Hare, especially the pictures from the "Slipstream" project, and I recently realized, compliments of the 5B4 Photography and Books website, that there is a book of the Slipstream pictures (here is the 5B4 review). But...ouch, $65 for 20 pictures. Well, yes, I love the work. Yes, I would love to own the book. But here's a situation where my "Scots gene" activates to nag at me...it seems a lot, for a guy who lives in a city where one in four people lives in poverty.

But here's the thing. With photography, you can't always buy by the pound. It's best to buy what you want, isn't it? To be on the lookout for bargains, sure, but not be "supersize foolish." Better to have twenty pictures you really like and know you'll appreciate (as I know I'd appreciate having Slipstream) than forego it to turn to the false bargain of something merely more voluminous, but less interesting.

...Right?

I don't know. What would you do?

_________________________

Mike

UPDATE: I did end up buying Patrick's book, with some help from a kind reader who left a nice tip in the contribution jar. I'll give you my impressions once I receive it.

Tony Mendoza and Ernie

Incidentally, while we're on the subject of cats, I'm repeating myself, but there does exist one indisputably great body of work with a cat as the main subject. I'm speaking (of course) of Tony Mendoza's Ernie: A Photographer's Memoir.

If first "met" Ernie when I was an impoverished student. Kathleen Ewing, who is now the President of AIPAD (the Association of Photography Art Dealers), used to let me come into her gallery (then in Georgetown, D.C.) and look through the portfolios from previous shows she kept stored away, as long as I kept out of the way. One of them contained loose 16x20 prints of Tony Mendoza's cat pictures. The memory of that set has never left me. They remain the only really distinctive cat pictures I've ever seen.

Chronicle Books had the good sense to make a book out of the work in 2001. I could post a link to the Amazon page, but Tony has a link himself on his Ernie website, and why should I get the finder's fee when it could go directly to the artist? So if you feel like ordering the book, order it from Tony's site instead. Worth having, though, even if you don't love cats.

____________________

Mike

Featured Comment by Bob Dales: "Not being a cat person I don't seek them out. But I'm okay if they're in the scene. My one and only cat pix:

"Now about my dog photos...."