Showing posts with label iconic images. Show all posts
Showing posts with label iconic images. Show all posts

Saturday, June 4, 2016

Muhammad Ali, Titan of Boxing and the 20th Century, Dies at 74

Cassius Clay, Miami, 1964
Bob Gomel: Cassius Clay, Miami, 1964


The New York Times:  Muhammad Ali, Titan of Boxing and the 20th Century, Dies at 74

Muhammad Ali Knocks Out Sonny Liston, Lewiston, Maine, May 25, 1965

Neil Leifer:  Muhammad Ali Knocks Out Sonny Liston, Lewiston, Maine, May 25, 1965                                

A look back at selected Muhammad Ali posts from our blog:

Sonny Liston landed on canvas below Muhammad Ali’s feet on May 25, 1965, and Neil Leifer snapped a photo

On Friday, March 6, 1964, Cassius Clay became Muhammad Ali

Cassius Clay couldn’t sleep in Miami Beach after beating Sonny Liston there in the legendary 1964 bout

March 8: Today In History: 'The Fight Of The Century'


Muhammad Ali (Cassius Clay - Monopoly), Louisville, Kentucky, 1963
Steve Schapiro: Muhammad Ali (Cassius Clay - Monopoly), Louisville, Kentucky, 1963


Visit our Pop-Up Tribute exhibition now on view in the gallery.
Neil Leifer will be signing copies of his new book Relentless: The Stories behind the Photographs 
 in the gallery July 29, 2016
Pre-orders available

Wednesday, April 27, 2011

MOMENTS OF OUR TIME

Via wayneford's posterous

Notes and thoughts on the photography that I am looking at...
April 27, 2011


 Moments of Our Time: Photographs that Define Modern History


 

Above Execution in Saigon, 1968. (©AP Eddie Adams/Courtesy of Monroe Gallery).


Over the past 100 years, the photograph has formed an important part of both our social and cultural history, with many images becoming icons of our time and often forming the the impetus to set political social changes in motion. Moments of Our Time at London’s Atlas Gallery brings many of these key images together, in what could be considered a sequel to the 2010 exhibition, Faces of Our Time.


Amongst the exhibitions many recognisable photographs, are Robert Capa’s (1913-1954) D-Day, Omaha Beach, Normandy, 6th June 1944, an image that places us, the viewer, at the very heart of the action, as the soldiers struggle to reach the beachhead through a raging surf, whilst under the threat of enemy fire, a photograph that clearly reflects Capa’s credo, ‘...if your pictures aren't good enough, you aren't close enough.’

Whilst American Joe Rosenthal (1911-2006), received a Pulitzer Prize for his iconic photograph Raising the Flag on Iwo Jima, taken in 1945, five days after the U.S. Marine corp landed on Iwo Jima. When asked about the photograph later in life, Rosenthal replied, ‘I took the picture, the Marines took Iwo Jima.’


Marines of the 28th Regiment of the 5th Division Raise the American Flag Atop Mt. Suribachi, Iwo Jima, 1945

Above U.S. Marines of the 28th Regiment, 5th Division, raise the American flag atop Mt. Suribachi, Iwo Jima, on Friday, Feb. 23, 1945. (©Joe Rosenthal/AP Photo/Courtesy of Monroe Gallery).


And several decades later it was a different war that took centre stage. On 2 February 1968, Eddie Adams' (1933-2004) photograph Execution in Saigon, South Vietnam, appeared on the front page of The New York Times (and syndicated around the world), a day after South Vietnam’s chief of police, Nguyen Ngoc Loan, executed a suspected Viet Cong collaborator. Just seconds before this man looses his life, we are presented with the fear in his eyes, and with the photographs publication, public opinion turned against the Vietnam War, reflecting the power of the photograph.

The attack on the World Trade Centre in 2001, was captured by Magnum photographer, Thomas Hoepker. His Twin Towers, Brooklyn, NYC, 9/11, 2001, depicts an almost idyllic scene, with a group of young people sitting and chatting in the late afternoon summer sunshine, as smoke billows from the ground zero, raising questions over about onlookers reactions to the scenes unravelling before their very eyes.

Whilst many of the images in this exhibition are by notable photographers, such as Capa, Rosenthal, Adams, and Hoepker, and others including, Ian Berry, Alfred Eisenstaedt, Elliott Erwitt, Stuart Franklin, Leonard Freed, Burt Glinn, Yevgeny Khaldei, Alberto Korda, Josef Koudelka, Don McCullin, Mark Power, Marc Riboud, W. Eugene Smith, Nick Ut, and Abraham Zapruder, works by authors who remain unknown, but whose images are no less poignant are also included.

On the 6 August 1945, an atomic bomb was dropped on the Japanese city of Nagasaki, the second such attack on the country. This now iconic image of the attack, depicting what The Times described as a ‘huge mushroom of smoke and dust,’ has become one of the most powerful symbols of the anti-war movement. Whilst the ethereal, almost cinematic image of President John F. Kennedy slumped in the back of his presidential car, and cradled in the arms of Jackie Kennedy, which has been utilised in artworks by contemporary artists Andy Warhol and Robert Rauschenberg, is etched on our shared memory of this tragic event.

These photographs, and others in Moments of Our Time, are rarely easy to look at, but are powerful markers of history over the last 100 years, and represent the important place the photograph holds in informing, and setting in motion social and political change.



Moments of Our Time is at the Atlas Gallery, London, until 28 May 2011.


(Monroe Gallery of Photography is pleased to have provided several key photographs to this exhibition.)

Tuesday, February 22, 2011

IWO JIMA, FEBRUARY 23, 1945





Marines of the 28th Regiment of the 5th Division Raise the American Flag Atop Mt. Suribachi, Iwo Jima, 1945
Joe Rosenthal: Marines of the 28th Regiment of the 5th Division Raise the American Flag Atop Mt. Suribachi, Iwo Jima, 1945


Iwo Jima was the costliest battle in Marine Corps history. Its toll of 6,821 Americans dead, 5,931 of them Marines, accounted for nearly one-third of all Marine Corps losses in all of World War II.


Shortly before 2am on Feb. 19, 1945, the Navy's big guns opened up on Iwo Jima again, signaling the beginning of D-Day. After an hour of punishment, the fire was lifted, leaving Iwo smoking as if the entire island were on fire.

Both Americans aboard their transports and the Japanese in their caves looked to the skies now. One-hundred-ten bombers screamed out of the sky to drop more bombs. After the planes left, the big guns of the Navy opened up again.

At 8:30am, the order, "Land the Landing Force," sent the first wave of Marines towards the deadly shores. Once ashore, the Marines were bedeviled by the loose volcanic ash. Unable to dig foxholes, they were sitting ducks for the hidden Japanese gunners.

Heavy fire made it impossible to land men in an orderly manner. Confusion reigned on the beaches.

The battle was unique in its setting. One hundred thousand men fighting on a tiny island one-third the size of Manhattan. For 36 days Iwo Jima was one of the most populated 7.5 miles on earth.

 
 
 
 
The first flagraising atop Mount Suribachi, February 23, 1945. Hank Hansen (without helmet), Boots Thomas (seated), John Bradley (behind Thomas) Phil Ward (hand visible grasping pole), Jim Michaels (with carbine) and Chuck Lindberg (behind Michaels).

Photo by Lou Lowery. 10:37 AM Feb. 23, 1945
 
 
Joe Rosenthal's story, told again and again with virtually no variation over the years, is this:

On Feb. 23, 1945, four days after D-Day at Iwo Jima, he was making his daily trek to the island on a Marine landing craft when he heard that a flag was being raised atop Mount Suribachi, a volcano at the southern tip of the island.

Marines had been battling for the high ground of Suribachi since their initial landing on Iwo Jima, and now, after suffering terrible losses on the beaches below it, they appeared to be taking it.

Upon landing, Rosenthal hurried toward Suribachi, lugging along his bulky Speed Graphic camera, the standard for press photographers at the time. Along the way, he came across two Marine photographers, Pfc. Bob Campbell, shooting still pictures, and Staff Sgt. Bill Genaust, shooting movies. The three men proceeded up the mountain together.

About halfway up, they met four Marines coming down. Among them was Sgt. Lou Lowery, a photographer for Leatherneck magazine, who said the flag had already been raised on the summit. He added that it was worth the climb anyway for the view. Rosenthal and the others decided to continue.

The first flag, he would later learn, was raised at 10:37 a.m. Shortly thereafter, Marine commanders decided, for reasons still unknown, to replace it with a larger flag.

At the top, Rosenthal tried to find the Marines who had raised the first flag, figuring he could get a group picture of them beside it. When no one seemed willing or able to tell him where they were, he turned his attention to a group of Marines preparing the second flag to be raised.

Here, with the rest of the story, is Rosenthal writing in Collier's magazine in 1955:

"I thought of trying to get a shot of the two flags, one coming down and the other going up, but although this turned out to be a picture Bob Campbell got, I couldn't line it up. Then I decided to get just the one flag going up, and I backed off about 35 feet.

"Here the ground sloped down toward the center of the volcanic crater, and I found that the ground line was in my way. I put my Speed Graphic down and quickly piled up some stones and a Jap sandbag to raise me about two feet (I am only 5 feet 5 inches tall) and I picked up the camera and climbed up on the pile. I decided on a lens setting between f-8 and f-11, and set the speed at 1-400th of a second.

"At this point, 1st Lt. Harold G. Shrier ... stepped between me and the men getting ready to raise the flag. When he moved away, Genaust came across in front of me with his movie camera and then took a position about three feet to my right. 'I'm not in your way, Joe?' he called.

"'No,' I shouted, 'and there it goes.' (click for film clips) 

"Out of the corner of my eye, as I had turned toward Genaust, I had seen the men start the flag up. I swung my camera, and shot the scene."

Rosenthal didn't know what he had taken. He certainly had no inkling he had just taken the best photograph of his career. To make sure he had something worth printing, he gathered all the Marines on the summit together for a jubilant shot under the flag that became known as his "gung-ho" picture.

And then he went down the mountain. At the bottom, he looked at his watch. It was 1:05 p.m.

Rosenthal hurried back to the command ship, where he wrote captions for all the pictures he had sent that day, and shipped the film off to the military press center in Guam. There it was processed, edited and sent by radio transmission to the mainland.

On the caption, Rosenthal had written: "Atop 550-foot Suribachi Yama, the volcano at the southwest tip of Iwo Jima, Marines of the Second Battalion, 28th Regiment, Fifth Division, hoist the Stars and Stripes, signaling the capture of this key position."

At the same time, he told an AP correspondent, Hamilton Feron, that he had shot the second of two flag raisings that day. Feron wrote a story mentioning the two flags.

The flag-raising picture was an immediate sensation back in the States. It arrived in time to be on the front pages of Sunday newspapers across the country on Feb. 25. Rosenthal was quickly wired a congratulatory note from AP headquarters in New York. But he had no idea which picture they were congratulating him for.

A few days later, back in Guam, someone asked him if he posed thepicture. Assuming this was a reference to the "gung-ho shot," he said,"Sure."

Not long after, Sherrod, the Time-Life correspondent, sent a cable to his editors in New York reporting that Rosenthal had staged the flag-raising photo. Time magazine's radio show, "Time Views the News," broadcast a report charging that "Rosenthal climbed Suribachi after the flag had already been planted. ... Like most photographers (he) could not resist reposing his characters in historic fashion."

Time was to retract the story within days and issue an apology to Rosenthal. He accepted it, but was never able to entirely shake the taint Time had cast on his story.

Monday, February 7, 2011

Iconic Monday: The Story Behind Hansel Mieth's Cranky Monkey


©I Like To Watch
The Blog of Writer and Editor David Schonauer




Mieth called the picture "The monkey on my back."


Last week I focused on the iconic photos of the first chimp in space. This Monday I thought I'd stay with man's ancestors and look at one of my favorite iconic Life magazine pictures—Hansel Mieth's portrait of a runaway rhesus monkey in Puerto Rico.

The image became a Life favorite after it's original publication in 1938. Over the years it's been reprinted in books countless times and sold as a poster. Mieth took many fine pictures for Life, but this is the one she became known for—which is she called the photo "the monkey on my back."

The explanation for its lasting impact? Probably the monkey's expression, which has been variously described as heartbreaking, sullen, and just plain P-Oed. I would go with P-Oed, but for all I know this may be the default expression of rhesus monkeys in repose. Let's agree that the face has left generations of viewers a bit...uneasy.

According to Mieth, a Life writer took one look at the image and said, "That's Henry Luce!" When a mean-looking monkey reminds you of your boss, you know it's trouble. Maybe when we look at Mieth's monkey we all simply see a face we're familiar with.


Mieth at work for Life, 1938


The story behind the picture is interesting, but not nearly as interesting as Mieth herself, and that's really why I wanted to write about her monkey today. Her life's story has been told in documentary called Hansel Mieth: Vagabond Photographer, which aired on PBS in 2003. As the title suggests, she was something of an iconoclast, and she never fit easily into the world of middle-class values embraced, extolled, and (in her case) enforced by Life magazine's editors. But as John Loengard, the legendary former director of photography (and foremost historian) of Life has written, the tale of Mieth's life and career was also a love.

She was born Johanna Mieth in Oppelsbohm, Bermany in 1909, but her father nicknamed her Hansel. At age 15 she left home with her teenage lover, Otto Hagel, began rambling through Europe on a romantic jaunt that wold last nearly 60 years.




"We lived with a goup of teenagers under a bridge over the Danube river," she once told Loengard, who interviewed her for his book Life Photograpers: What They Saw. "I had a guitar, and Otto had a violin. In the 1920s you could get along that way in Austria." Once they stayed in a monastery in Yugoslavia for six weeks, Mieth dressed as a boy in short leather pants. They eventually started making a little money taking pictures and writing short articles for newspapers. When Hilter rose to power, Hagel went to America on a boat carrying canaries. She followed later. Eventually they found themselves in Depression-era California, continuing their photographic work by documenting amigrant farm laborers. Mieth started working for the Works Progress Administration.

"We were idealistic liberals," she told Loengard. "And what happens to liberals? Nothing. They lose their shirt."

In 1936, David Hulburd, the head of the Time Inc. office in San Francisco, asked Mieth if she wanted to work for Henry Luce, who was not an idealistic liberal, as a Life stringer. She shot a story on a sheep farm in Red Bluff, California, and one of her pictures made the magazine's cover. In 1937 they offered her a staff job. "I must have been a little hungry or something, because I said OK," she told Loengard. She bcame the magazine's second female staff photographer, the first being Margaret Bourke-White, whom Mieth befriended when she moved (with Hagel) to New York. "Once she admired a black velvet dress with red heart buttons that I was wearing," she recalled. "She came back a little later and handed me a package and said we should be friends together. When I unwrapped it, I found a nice red compact in a heart shape made of good leather, just like the buttons I had on my dress."


Otto Hagel and Hansel Mieth (undated)

Hagel became a well known photographer in his own right. He and Mieth were, as she put it later, happily "living in sin" when Life editors, who felt they needed to protect the magazine's image, started looking at them with expressions somewhat like that of her rhesus monkey. To appease the editors, Mieth and Hagel applied for a marriage license. While they were waiting for it, Robert Capa appeared at the magazine's office saying his visa had been cancelled. He had to leave the country...or marry an American citizen. He had a girl willing to do him the favor, and they all got married at the same time in a quickie ceremony.

In 1941, said Mieth, "life in New York was a little too—if not hectic, at least it didn't make a great deal of sense." Mieth and Hagel moved back to California. It was Mieth's idea, and Hagel said, "Where you go, I go." She continued working for Life, while he shot for other magazines. FDR was an admirer of Hagel's documentary work. Once, when Hagel was in Cuba on assignment, Mieth's phone rang. "It was Steve Early, Roosevelt's press secretary. He said the president wants to speak to Otto. I said Otto is not here....Five minutes later, the phone rang again, and it was Roosevelt himself, and he said, 'I want to speak to my boy.'"

"Your boy's not here," Mieth told the president.

In the 1950s, Mieth and Hagel refused to testify before the House Un-American Activities Committee; that helped bring an end to Mieth's prickly relationship with Life. They had a ranch in Santa Rosa, California, where they raised livestock. Hagel died in 1973. Mieth died in 1998.

It was back in 1938 that she went to Puerto Rico to shoot a Life story on a Harvard Medical School project to study freed rhesus monkeys. One day, a boy came running up to her and said that a monkey had gotten away and was in the water nearby. Mieth pursued the animal. "I came down, and that monkey was really going hell-bent for something," Mieth recalled. "I said, 'I better go in and get him,' [and] I threw my Rolleiflex on my back and swam out." The monkey, standing on a corral reef, looked at her. "I don't think he liked me, but he sat on that corral reef there, and I took about a dozen shots," she told Loengard.

Mieth took plenty of pictures on the assignment, but the magazine ran only the one that looked like Henry Luce. Loengard asked Mieth if she thought the monkey looked like Luce, and she replied thoughtfully, "I didn't see Luce that much. He had lots of other things to do rather than talk with photographers. The photographers were a low group of animals then. But I suppose it does in a way. It all depends on what kind of mood you are in. To me it looks like the monkey's depicting the state of the world at the time."

--David Schonauer


Related: Women Who Shot The 20th Century

Friday, November 12, 2010

JOHN F. KENNEDY: NOVEMBER, AND PHOTOGRAPHY

On November 8, 1960, John F. Kennedy was elected in the 44th American presidential election.

Alfred Eisenstaedt: Vice President-elect Lyndon Johnson chatting with President-elect John Kennedy and his wife Jackie at the president's inaugural ball, Washington, DC, January 1961



On November 22, 1963, John F. Kennedy was assassinated in Dallas, Texas.

Carl Mydans: On the 6:25 from Grand Central to Stamford, CT, November 22, 1963


On November 25, 1963, he was laid to rest at Arlington National Cemetery in Virginia.

John F. Kennedy Jr. saluting his father's coffin, November 25, 1963 with Ted Kennedy, Jacqueline Kennedy, Rose Kennedy, Peter Lawford, and Robert F. Kennedy in background

John F. Kennedy laid to rest, Arlington, 1963
Bob Gomel: John F. Kennedy laid to rest, Arlington, 1963


John F. Kennedy was the first American president to understand the power of the image and photography, and he also understood the opposite impact of the wrong image. As recounted in the book The John F. Kennedys: A Family Album (Rizzoli):

"John spend hours looking at photographs of himself and his family. That was neither narcissism nor pride to Jack Kennedy, but recognition of polities as a show of fleeting images. In the mostly black-and-white world of the early 1960s, the right picture in the right place duplicating itself forever was worth a great deal more than any thousand words. One enduring image, say a photograph of the young senator walking away from the camera through Hyannis Port dunes to the sea, might have the political impact of a small war. Selecting the right image at the right time was at the heart of winning the elusive twin goddesses the man pursued, power and history.

This photograph by Mark Shaw was said to have been John F. Kennedy's favorite photograph of himself


The man who would be president also understood the opposite impact of the wrong image. That same year, Life's sister magazine, Time, assigned one of its most talented young writers, Hugh Sidey, to write about Kennedy, to get to know him. On second meeting, Sidey and Kennedy were walking near the short subway that connects the U.S. Capitol with the Senate Office Building. They bumped, almost literally, into Kennedy's buddy Senator George Smathers of Florida, who was posing for a Senate photographer with a small claque of pretty young women from his state. All laughing, they pulled the handsome young senator from Massachusetts into the group and he smiled for the birdie.

Waving goodbye to the gigglers, Kennedy said to Sidey, "Get hold of that photographer and destroy the negative."

Sidey did it.

President Kennedy had learned the power of the image, of the visual, from his father, who was for a time a power in the movie business. Joseph P. Kennedy was the first, or among the first, to merge the creation and marketing of the celebrity trade, the tricks of public relations, to the business of politics and governing. With politics aforethought, the founding father had created an archive—still and moving pictures of his children—ready to be used to entice a nation into a cause in the same way they were pulled into movie theaters."

John Kennedy's campaign, presidency, and tragic assassination resulted in countless photographic images, many now considered to be iconic. In the mostly black-and-white world of the early 1960s, the right picture in the right place duplicating itself forever was worth a great deal more than any thousand words.


Related: 50 Years Ago: the Kennedy Nixon Debates

             Marilyn Monroe, Kennedys Recalled in White House Archive Sale