An article in the Irish Times has prompted me to post some photographs that aren't mine. A review of The Secret Paris of the 30's forces me to recommend otherwise.
I've had that book for years, and though last I checked it was out of print in the US, it seems to be back in print in the UK. I haven't seen the new edition, but I can tell by the price that chances are, it doesn't compare to the Bullfinch effort, Brassaï: The Monograph. While it is pricey at $75, the reproduction quality is just awesome, putting the dull newsprint of Secret Paris to shame. It's too big to fit on my scanner, handsomely bound, and a real joy. Brassaï is just one of those photographers you must see!
My taste in photography leans towards the poetically persuasive, and while Brassaï isn't at the top of my list, he surely rates in the top ten. He flirts with the tawdry, but never without taste; each moment frozen by him deserves careful consideration.
Anyone familiar with my work, and Brassaï's, would understand why I feel an affinity for him. He was, for a time, a bar photographer too. Though only a portion of The Secret Paris of the 30's is shot in bars, I would be lying to say he wasn't an influence. His shots look candid though he used an unwieldy plate camera, flashbulbs, and flash powders.
Part of Brassaï's secret is the cropping. He wasn't bound to any modern notions of documentary "truth," but rather to a higher truth of the situation. He saw photography as an essentially rhetorical endeavor, where the task of the photographer was to somehow convey the real life of gangsters, prostitutes, sewer-cleaners, and the always clownish surrealists. His truth was forged through relationships with these people, rather than looking upon them as prey. You get a fuller picture of Brassaï's work in the Monograph, including the shots surrounding what became the rather forties-like Secret Life. Don't get me wrong— like Weegee's Naked City it's a keystone document, but it suffers the same flaws of poor production. Seeing the process at work, in glorious modern printing, is far more satisfying.
Besides, the Monograph also includes Brassaï's work for Minotaure. The Transylvanian photographer with an interest in the mundane surely was welcomed with open arms by the Surrealists. Perhaps that's the only thing that keeps him from ranking higher for me. Not because I have anything against Surrealists, but because most of my real heroes aren't joiners at all. Even anti-groups are still groups. But then again, he really wasn't one of them, because unlike Man Ray, he clung to the power of representation. That's what keeps him close to me.
The meaning of art is not authenticity. . .
but the expression of authenticity.
That's why pictures like the one at the bottom of the page take on great significance to me. So what if he didn't catch the gangsters on the sly. The point is that he caught them at all, showing a side of the world that few had chosen to look at before. Unlike the modern gonzo-style, these photographs aren't drive-bys. He was commited enough to earn their trust and cooperation; otherwise, given his technical limitations, the photographs wouldn't have been possible.
If you buy Secret Life, you'll see pieces of this photograph; if you buy the Monograph, you get the whole thing.
