... part 2 ...
Steichen admitted that, following in the traditions of the day, he initially saw his woodland photographs as preliminary studies for moonlight paintings. I made realistic notes of the actual night colors on the spot, he wrote about one Milwaukee twilight photography session, describing the colors I saw in terms of a mixture of pigments to be used in the painting (A Life in Photography, unpaginated, Chapter 1). If a Steichen letter from 1903 is any indication, the photographer vividly recorded in his mind the colors of a setting, even if planning a photograph: We had a moon night before lastthe like of which I had never seen beforethe whole landscape was still bathed in a warm twilight glowthe color was simply marvelous in its dark brightand into this rose a large disc of brilliant golden orange in a warm purplish skyGold. . . (quoted in Longwell, op. cit., p. 94). The ability of oil on canvas to capture the colors of a night setting, as well as its shadowy forms, was for Steichen one of paintings most valuable aspects. Steichen was from an early date preoccupied with color in photography, and he was one of the first to jump on the bandwagon, in 1907, when the Lumière brothers devised the first practical photographic color process, the autochrome. Indeed, as aficionados of Camera Work know, so committed was Steichen to capturing the subtle colorations of certain moonlit scenes that he resorted to personally hand-tinting every copy of two photogravure plates issued in Camera Work: the Road into the ValleyMoonrise in the Steichen Supplement of 1906, and PastoralMoonlight in Camera Work Number 19, from 1907.
It was the malleable gum-bichromate process, and his consummate mastery of it, that allowed Steichen to realize to the fullest his vision of the moonlit landscape. He was conversant in the basics of gum-bichromate before he left for Paris in 1900--I had read an article by Robert Demachy, a famous French photographer, about a process that he used extensively and referred to as a gum-bichromate process, he wrote in his autobiography (A Life in Photography, unpaginated, Chapter 1)and he had experimented with gum in his Milwaukee images. His exposure to the European masters of the process, however, as well as the photographs he saw in the European salons, broadened his outlook and showed him the possibilities of what could be achieved in terms of multiple printing on a large scale.
His best introduction to the expressive uses of gum-bichromate would have been Robert Demachy (1859 1936), the French gentleman photographer who was married to a relative of Franklin Delano Roosevelt and was a fluent English speaker and writer. Demachy practiced the gum-bichromate process almost exclusively from the 1890s until 1906, when he took up the Rawlins oil process. His writings on gum-bichromate, in both French and English, were authoritative, and he befriended Steichen during the young photographers first sojourn in Paris. The photographer who brought both scale and multiple colors to the process was Heinrich Kühn (1866 1944) (see Lots 38 40), the leader of the Viennese secession and like Demachy, a contributor to Camera Work. Steichen met him in Munich in 1901, and could not have failed to have been impressed with the vivid colors achieved by Kühn through multiple, layered printings from different negatives. The works of these and other European practitioners of gum-bichromate, alone or combined with other processes, were seen and studied by Steichen at the salons on the Continent and in London.
In France, Steichen began working in gum-bichromate and combination processes with a vengeance. Always ready to take up a challenge, he rose to the processs technical demands and used its painterly qualities to prove that certain types of photographs could be worked over and multiply-printed until they were indistinguishable from etchings or other traditional fine prints. His duping of the jury of the 1902 Champs de Mars salon is told over and over again in the Steichen narrative: how he submitted, and had accepted, ten gum-bichromate prints to the graphic arts category, only to have them rejected once the committee discovered they were photographs. This early grand-standing aside, he worked very seriously, and with great power, in the combination processes, producing a series of Pictorial masterworks, of which the present image is one.
The print offered here is a multiple gum-bichromate print over platinum, and its depth and color come from skillful layers of manipulated, sequential printing, in different tones, from one negative. The initial base of the image would have been a platinum print, over which was printed one or more layers of gum-bichromate. Each of these subsequent layers could not only be a different tone, but could also be altered on its surface with a brush or sponge during development, allowing for manual control of the shapes and shadows. In large format especially, the technique was elaborate, tricky, and laborious. Although Steichen rarely discussed his printing in detail, there is an extant, undated letter he sent to Stieglitz regarding his large, multiple-process prints, which reads in part:
. . . [the prints] represent two months hard work to say nothing of the expense which my bills testify to. Big plates mean more failures and cost like h__l. I wish you could see the new thingsThey will be hard to hangOne in particular . . . The Big Cloud . . . its a whopperand will compel attentionalthough Im afraid they may refuse to hang it d__m if they do. Another one Moonrise in three printings: first printing, grey black plat[itnum]2nd, plain blue print (secret), 3rd, greenish gum. It is so very dark I must take the glass off because it acts too much like a mirror. I hope they will handle it carefully . . . (quoted in Longwell, op. cit., p. 17).
As these large multiple-process prints were each created by a process not dissimilar from the creation of fine cuisine, with special touches known only to the chef, it is difficult to single out the ingredients of Steichens prints: thus it is hard to know if the description above applies perfectly to one of the three extant Pond images, or to another print of the image now lost. The print offered here has been analyzed recently by the conservation department at The Metropolitan Museum of Art, and it is described by them as a multiple gum-bichromate print over platinum. The print given to the Metropolitan by Stieglitz, also analyzed recently by their conservation department, appears to be a platinum print with applied Prussian blue and calcium-based white pigment, likely hand-applied. The third print, in the collection of The Museum of Modern Art, is catalogued as a platinum and ferro-prussiate print. Each is different, and each is striking in its own way. As the photographer Joan Harrison, herself an accomplished printer in alternative photographic processes, has succinctly stated, Gum-Bichromate is the most individual of all photographic printing processes both in method and result. The hand of the artist is evident in every print and the medium is unique in that its malleability allows for the development of a personal colour palette suited to nearly any taste or sensibility (Colour in the Gum-Bichromate Process, in History of Photography, Volume 17, Number 4, Winter 1993, p. 375).
Steichens large-format multiple process prints presented him with what must have been the most complex and challenging darkroom experiences he had known in his career to that point, and probably thereafter. But these multiple-process prints were difficult, costly, and time-consuming, and these limitations precluded their production in any quantity. That, coupled with the deterioration or loss of most of the photographers early Pictorial negatives during the first World War, make original Steichen multiple-process prints among the rarest works in his entire oeuvre.
The print of The PondMoonlight offered here was purchased from Alfred Stieglitz, presumably acting as Steichens agent, by John Aspinwall, in 1906. Aspinwall, a friend and supporter of Stieglitz and an amateur photographer himself, served as president of the Camera Club of New York in the early years of the last century. The date on Aspinwalls bill of sale, 3 April 1906, may indicate that the print he purchased was the actual print of the image included in a major retrospective of Steichens work at the Photo-Secession Galleries from the 9th to the 24th of March 1906. The original bill of sale to Aspinwall, in Stieglitzs hand, which at one time accompanied the print, is now lost. The print was also at one time accompanied by a copy of a letter from Steichen to Mrs. John Aspinwall Wagner, a descendant of the original owner, stating that the relatively high price of $75.00, paid in 1906, indicated that Steichen and Stieglitz thought the print was an especially fine one. ...