Eugene Atget Appreciation
-
A
- Thread starter cliveh
- Start date
Recent Classifieds
-
For Sale FS: Toyo Sliding Back for 4x5 Graflok
- Started by B.S.Kumar
-
For Sale FS: Mamiya ProSD 6x7 120 Roll Film Holder
- Started by B.S.Kumar
-
For Sale FS: Mamiya RB K/L 250mm f/4.5 L-A Lens
- Started by B.S.Kumar
-
For Sale BOOK SALE! Weston, Karsh, Kenna, Worth, Sexton
- Started by AnselMortensen
Forum statistics
Perhaps it would be of help to the group a few words my photography teacher Platon Rivellis wrote about Eugene Atget:
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Atget may have given the impression, both to himself and to others, that he was merely documenting Paris, but in reality, he was building a monument. He adopted an absolutely clear depiction as his primary tool for achieving transcendence. He avoided any easy emotional charge and remained committed to the inherent power of the subject itself.
In doing so, he leaves the viewer with the suggestion of a hidden element—something that might come to disrupt the absolute calm and balance of the world he presents. This tragic dimension imbues his photographs with a sense of unease and commands respect. Everything is laid before us, in a state of sober despair, striving to achieve balance.
Great photographs do not usually win us over at first glance. They reveal their virtues to those who take the time and effort to engage with them attentively, persistently, and repeatedly. This does not mean one must search for hidden depths to uncover buried treasures. A great photographer, like any true artist, allows his content to appear with clarity—only he does not underline it. And so, the superficial viewer fails to perceive that the truth lies right before him, simply because he does not devote himself to it, even for a moment.
Something similar happens with the photographs of Atget, whose work at first glance appears obvious, and therefore unremarkable, lacking specific messages or the ability to captivate. However, the persistent gaze of a sensitive and experienced viewer is enough for the details of balance to begin revealing themselves—the movement within the frame, the rigor of description, the curiosity of the gaze, the joy of discovery—allowing us to recognize and admire the value of this creator, who composed in Paris a visual symphony destined to influence an entire generation of photographers.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Atget may have given the impression, both to himself and to others, that he was merely documenting Paris, but in reality, he was building a monument. He adopted an absolutely clear depiction as his primary tool for achieving transcendence. He avoided any easy emotional charge and remained committed to the inherent power of the subject itself.
In doing so, he leaves the viewer with the suggestion of a hidden element—something that might come to disrupt the absolute calm and balance of the world he presents. This tragic dimension imbues his photographs with a sense of unease and commands respect. Everything is laid before us, in a state of sober despair, striving to achieve balance.
Great photographs do not usually win us over at first glance. They reveal their virtues to those who take the time and effort to engage with them attentively, persistently, and repeatedly. This does not mean one must search for hidden depths to uncover buried treasures. A great photographer, like any true artist, allows his content to appear with clarity—only he does not underline it. And so, the superficial viewer fails to perceive that the truth lies right before him, simply because he does not devote himself to it, even for a moment.
Something similar happens with the photographs of Atget, whose work at first glance appears obvious, and therefore unremarkable, lacking specific messages or the ability to captivate. However, the persistent gaze of a sensitive and experienced viewer is enough for the details of balance to begin revealing themselves—the movement within the frame, the rigor of description, the curiosity of the gaze, the joy of discovery—allowing us to recognize and admire the value of this creator, who composed in Paris a visual symphony destined to influence an entire generation of photographers.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Yes, well said. I particularly like the " the tragic dimension." I hadn't thought of it that way, but now I see it "clearly." Indeed, that might be the "sensibility" we have here.
Of help, how? The lofty words you quoted are a private opinion that is stated in a quasi-factual way. The assertive formulation does little to hide the only obvious fact - that it's just your teacher's opinion that's being expressed. Nothing more, nothing less. It's fine as such, but I don't find it more insightful than anything that's been already said here.
On a more critical note, there's an annoying tendency in the quote that attempts to offload a lack of agreement to the reader: if they don't agree, they're apparently not taking the time and effort to watch closely, the reader is apparently insufficiently aware of the 'reality' as put forth in the assessment, the reader's gaze is insufficiently persistent...in other words: if you happen to disagree, it's because you're not looking properly. If you don't happen to like Atget's work, then it apparently cannot have anything to do with Atget's work. Which I find a particularly annoying, if not downright arrogant way of making a point.
I'm sorry, but I find that kind of commentary maddening. So, the magic of Atget is vouchsafed only to those who take the time and effort - and then, it seems, only to a chosen few, because there are those like myself who have given plenty of time and effort and still don't completely 'get' it. For us lesser, 'superficial' beings, there is always a suspicion that the cognoscenti are seeing things that aren't really there.
<<He avoided any easy emotional charge and remained committed to the inherent power of the subject itself.>>
I don't think emotional charge can easily be incorporated into a photo of a doorway, or a park gateway. So this presumably only applies to a subset of Atget's photographs.
<<In doing so, he leaves the viewer with the suggestion of a hidden element—something that might come to disrupt the absolute calm and balance of the world he presents.>>
So the thing we are supposed to see genuinely isn't there! It's only present in the interaction of viewer with photograph.
<<This tragic dimension imbues his photographs with a sense of unease and commands respect.>>
To play Devil's Advocate, there are other un-seen dimensions, conspicuous by their absence (or hiding), that one could impute: human society, sex, banality, humour, ...
<< Everything is laid before us, ...>>
Except the "hidden" element, which isn't.
<<Great photographs do not usually win us over at first glance. They reveal their virtues to those who take the time and effort to engage with them attentively, persistently, and repeatedly. This does not mean one must search for hidden depths to uncover buried treasures. A great photographer, like any true artist, allows his content to appear with clarity—only he does not underline it. And so, the superficial viewer fails to perceive that the truth lies right before him, simply because he does not devote himself to it, even for a moment.>>
This paragraph seems to repeatedly contradict itself. To paraphrase: The virtue of a great photo isn't superficially obvious. The viewer has to try, but doesn't have to try too much. The virtue of a great photo will be clear, but not so clear that one will see it straight away. And you could miss it completely by not trying enough.
I don't agree with the first sentence, anyway. I can think of many photographs that won me over at first glance and continue to enchant or impress after years of familiarity. The problem many of us have with Atget is that we are drawn to the work as a whole, but it isn't obvious how much Atget contributed to that attraction. It may be simply that we share with him a nostalgia about that earlier era, or a taste for decaying grandeur.
<<However, the persistent gaze of a sensitive and experienced viewer is enough for the details of balance to begin revealing themselves—the movement within the frame, the rigor of description, the curiosity of the gaze, the joy of discovery>>
This is so hyperbolic that it's tempting to poke fun. But I can just about comprehend what qualities Rivellis is trying to describe, and recognise some of them in some of Atget's photographs. In much of Atget's collected work, though, these qualities seem barely perceptible.
It's all very frustrating. I like, though I don't know why. But I don't think it's for the qualities that some claim to see in the work.
Although less critical and severe than koraks in my judgement, I'm siding with him on this one.
Part that bugs me most is the opening (emphasis mine): "Atget may have given the impression, both to himself and to others, that he was merely documenting Paris, but in reality, he was building a monument." Now I think it essential to try to understand an artist's intent, but there is a good way and a bad way of engaging in that path. Stating that you've tapped into the artist's subconscious and have discovered what the artist himself was unaware of, is, in my opinion, one of the most misguided ways of doing so.
Atget not only stated that he was documenting, but he stated very precisely what he was documenting. No reason to think that he (unconsciously) meant something other than what he said.
I don’t want to oppose dear Don_ih, and I’d love to be respectful, but I think it’s okay to admit when we don’t fully grasp something. I don’t claim to completely understand Atget’s work either—just as I wouldn’t claim to fully grasp Picasso or Beethoven. Yet, for some reason, it seems harder to admit this when it comes to photography, as if we should inherently “see” it. But when figures like Walker Evans, Henri Cartier-Bresson, and Garry Winogrand regard Atget as one of the greats, perhaps there’s something there worth reconsidering, right?
Just like Picasso or Beethoven or any kind of art, appreciation boils down ultimately to "I like it." In the end, that's all it is. What that doesn't need, is the addition "...and if you don't, you're crazy/dumb". That's the problem with your teacher's assessment. It's a long-winded way of saying "I like it, and those who don't, are ignorant". Anyone saying that sort of thing will counter an angry mob sooner or later.
I don't see how appreciating someone's art should depend on someone else sanctioning it. If Evans and Cartier Bresson liked Atget, that's totally unrelated to whether me or you should like his work. I can make up my own mind on whether I enjoy something. I trust you can, too.
I don't see how appreciating someone's art should depend on someone else sanctioning it. If Evans and Cartier Bresson liked Atget, that's totally unrelated to whether me or you should like his work. I can make up my own mind on whether I enjoy something. I trust you can, too.
Couldn't agree more.
I completely disagree with that. Appreciation in art isn’t just a matter of personal taste—it requires an understanding of the “language” of the art form. I might prefer Shakira over Bach, but that doesn’t change the fact that those who deeply understand music universally recognize Bach as a genius. My personal preference has nothing to do with that.
What I find interesting is that people are generally comfortable admitting they know little about classical music, painting, or poetry. But when it comes to cinema or photography, they often become defensive, as if saying, “Don’t tell me what my eyes cannot see.” Yet, all forms of art require time and effort to truly understand. It’s no different.
Totally agree. That's why books by critics such as John Berger, Geoff Dyer, John Szarkowski are so rich and illuminating.
That said, I still think Rivellis took a wrong path and did the opposite of what he seems to advocate, which is simply look.
- Joined
- Jan 30, 2005
- Messages
- 640
- Format
- Multi Format
@nikos79 said nothing at all about “innate superiority”—those are your words. The terms used were “understanding of the ‘language’” and “deeply understand.” Let’s not set up any strawmen to knock down.
I find this question hugely problematic, smusmurkiren. That's an odd way to think of photography in general.
Take portrait photography, as a counter example.
Based on your line of reasoning, what has any portrait photographer achieved that wasn't already achieved by the model's mum and dad when they met and made a new human being?
Take reportage photography. You'll be familiar with the scores of images of pot bellied starving African children with huge, wet eyes staring at the camera, or the images of shy Afghan women with huge green eyes being photographed against their will.
Based on your line of reasoning, what has any reportage photographer achieved that wasn't achieved by buying a plane ticket to a village in a state of war/famine/extreme poverty?
Street photography. What has any really good street photographer achieved that is beyond framing random - mostly unaware - human beings in an interesting composition against a more or less interesting background?
Landscape photography. What has a master landscape photographer achieved that wasn't already made by the combination of pleasant time of the day, shape and patterns of local foliage, and a basic understanding of the territory and and of the effect of seasonal change on it, perhaps with a little help from the local forestry council?
If I understand you correctly, you are trying to insinuate that Atget's work is perhaps less interesting or less worthy of consideration than other styles of photography you hold as a reference (may I ask which are those?) because he focuses his attention on...existing architecture? I hope I'm misunderstanding, and all you are saying is that you don't like Atget a priori, which you are absolutely entitled too.
But if you're trying to belittle Atget's work because he mostly took pictures of buildings and streets - well then, this is a view that I find no more and no less worthy of criticism and attention in this discussion than the quote by @nikos79's teacher which is getting people's knickers in a twist just above.
Last edited:
I agree!
Maybe he was too poetic, but here is the full excerpt from his web page to get the whole idea
Source: https://www.rivellis.gr/peri-didask...rafou/simantikoi-fotografoi-kai-to-ergo-tous/
Eugène Atget was born in Libourne, southwestern France, in 1857 and died in Paris in 1927. Orphaned by the age of five, he was raised by his grandparents in Bordeaux. Initially, he worked as a cabin boy on ships traveling to South America (1875–1877). He later attended drama school but did not graduate (1879–1881). For fifteen years, he played minor roles in provincial and touring theater troupes. He then dabbled briefly in painting.
His involvement with photography began in 1898, with the goal of documenting Paris and its surroundings and selling his photographs to painters, libraries, and institutions. However, making a living was difficult, and he often relied solely on the income of his wife, actress Valentine Delaforre, who passed away in 1926. A year later, he died in extreme poverty. In 1978, a street in Paris’s 13th arrondissement was named after him, followed later by a school in his hometown, and in 2008, a crater on the planet Mercury was also named Atget.
Eugène Atget was one of the most important photographers in shaping the medium—and certainly one of the most enigmatic. He began photography at the age of thirty-five with no formal training, using rudimentary equipment, and without contact with other photographers. He worked with a large, heavy camera that used glass plates, printing his 18×24 cm negatives in direct contact on printing-out-paper, a technique that involved exposing the paper and negative to sunlight until the image gradually appeared without the use of chemicals. This was the method he had learned, and it was sufficient for him. On the door of his home and studio in Montparnasse, he hung a sign that read "Documents pour artistes", indicating that he produced photographs for painters to use as references.
A year before his death, he visited the studio of Man Ray, a successful fashion photographer well-known in surrealist circles, who occasionally purchased photographs from him. There, he met the American photographer Berenice Abbott, who was working as Man Ray’s assistant. Abbott immediately recognized Atget’s significance, bought many of his photographs, interviewed him, and took two portraits of him—among the very few we have. In that interview, Abbott asked him if he ever worked on commission for painters, to which he replied, "No. Painters don’t know what to photograph." This response suggested that the sign on his door was primarily for financial survival, while he himself knew exactly what good photography meant and was neither falsely modest nor unaware of the artistic value of his work.
When Abbott returned to America, she organized an exhibition of his work. More importantly, in the early 1960s, John Szarkowski, who had just become director of photography at MoMA, immediately recognized Atget’s significance and acquired his photographs from Abbott. This led to exhibitions at the museum and the publication of major photobooks, bringing Atget wider recognition. The renowned Walker Evans had likely already been aware of Atget’s work, as evidenced by his own photographs. Evans knew Abbott well and had lived in Paris while Atget was still alive, though it is unknown whether they ever met.
Atget’s influence on Evans was crucial because Evans marked the beginning of a lineage of American photographers whose aesthetic was fundamentally different from that of Weston, Adams, and the photographers of the so-called West Coast school. In contrast, the tradition that began with Evans and extended to Winogrand became known as the East Coast school. But the solitary Atget died unknown, just as he had lived, never witnessing the recognition of his work. While he was alive, and even until 1960, his photographs were sold for mere pennies. Today, they are among the most expensive on the market. The fear that such a great photographer—like many artists—could have remained forever unknown adds to the austere solitude of his images, highlighting the fragile and uncertain nature of the artistic process.
Atget’s primary subject was the urban environment. Americans have often categorized his work as documentary photography, a term I find misleading. A close study of his photographs and their visual playfulness reveals that documentation was merely the pretext, the canvas, the stage for his optical performance. He worked with great methodical precision, focusing on distinct thematic areas. Initially, he captured Parisian landscapes—parks, gardens, trees. Later, he moved to the outskirts of Paris. He then created a series he called "Picturesque Paris", depicting disappearing trades, from prostitutes to street vendors and craftsmen, as well as storefronts, shop windows, and advertising signs. He went on to focus on artistic details of old Paris—doors, staircases—and expanded into interior spaces. He managed to sell some of his photographs to painters, libraries, and the Paris municipality, but never enough to live comfortably.
His use of vanishing lines through foliage, his obsession with compositional balance, even at the cost of lens vignetting (which he clearly did intentionally, as he did it frequently), his experiments with translating three-dimensional space into two-dimensional photographs—such as his front-facing gates with one section ajar or his flat, geometric balconies—all convince us that he was a great artist. Evans had the intelligence to recognize these qualities, draw inspiration from them, and sometimes take them even further. Anyone who has admired Atget’s photograph of Versailles—with its vast foreground road leading to a monumental staircase that, in turn, leads into a void—will surely understand that his work was far more than mere documentary photography, whatever that term may mean.
It is almost certain that Atget valued his own work and understood its significance. In 1920, he wrote a letter to the Director of Fine Arts and Historic Monuments, stating:
*"For more than twenty years, through my own initiative and work, I have photographed, using 18×24 cm negatives, the artistic documents of the beautiful urban architecture of Old Paris, from the 16th to the 19th century. This immense artistic and archival collection is now complete. I can truly say that I possess all of Old Paris.
Now that I am approaching old age (nearly 70) and have no successor or heir, I am deeply concerned and troubled about the future of this beautiful collection of negatives. It could fall into hands that do not understand its significance and ultimately be lost, benefiting no one. I would be most grateful, sir, if you could take an interest in this collection."*
You may or may not notice above, when @cliveh posted the most recent Atget photo, I asked him what he thought of it because I didn't find it remarkable. So I was inviting him to say what was great about it. I'm not claiming to be the final word on the worth of anyone's photography. And it has absolutely nothing to do with liking so I would argue against
but so many people have already slaughtered that lamb.
He gets the basic biographical facts right, but there are some important mistakes that show his interpretive bias. Here, for example:
A year before his death, he visited the studio of Man Ray, a successful fashion photographer well-known in surrealist circles, who occasionally purchased photographs from him. There, he met the American photographer Berenice Abbott, who was working as Man Ray’s assistant. Abbott immediately recognized Atget’s significance, bought many of his photographs...
He makes it sound like Man Ray's relationship with the Surrealists was anecdotal — he wasn't "well-known in surrealist circles," he was part of the movement, and an important one at that. Moreover, he makes it sound like Abbott "discovered" Atget. Not the case. The Surrealists were well aware of his importance, and, as was typical with the movement, appropriated him as, if not one of them, at least a precursor. Three of his photographs appeared in 1926 (one year before his death) in the journal The Surrealist Revolution (La révolution surréaliste), and the Surrealists organized an exhibition of his works in 1928, after his death.
Yes, based on the elitist argument that Bach was a genius. I don't disagree necessarily with that assessment, but what makes it iffy is that (1) the recognition of the man's genius is apparently sanctioned only for those 'in the know', and (2) appreciation of Bach needs to be put into perspective of something else, which is implied should not be recognized as genius. I'd like to observe that at the peak of her fame, Shakira moved a vastly larger number of people with her work than Bach ever did at any given time (although you may argue that the total sum over time might be in favor of Bach, but he did have a 300 year head-start). Indeed, the words 'innate superiority' are mine. Let's call a duck, a duck.
I’m afraid you have mis-read me. I don’t dislike Atget’s work, quite the reverse. I have three books of his photos, which I leaf through regularly, and would love to see an Atget exhibition somewhere. The photos fascinate me, and I like to read commentaries on the photos by other people. This thread is fascinating too.
Specifically, I did not say “Atget has added nothing here that wasn't already made by the landscape architect”; rather, I said “I am uncertain what Atget has achieved here that wasn't already made by the landscape architect?” The lion photo isn’t one that grabs me, I must say, but it wasn’t my intention to belittle it or Atget’s work in general. It’s just that this particular photo seems (to me) a weak example of Atget’s ‘signature’.
What does a photographer ever add that wasn’t already present in the subject? I would gladly join in a discussion of this, but it’s a big topic and should probably be a separate thread. Selection of subject matter is of course a fundamental control. On the lion photo, I was simply pointing out that the sculpture and pleasing landscape that Atget chose to photograph were created by someone other than Atget. What else did he add? It’s a question, not a ‘line of reasoning’. What would you answer?
Last edited:
John Szarkowski, in his book on Eugene Atget featuring 100 photographs, includes comments next to each image — though most of them lean toward the poetic and abstract.
It’s difficult to explain why Atget’s photographs hold such power, much like how some people find Walker Evans' work trivial or indifferent at first glance. Trying to break down the composition or highlight the photographer’s unique perspective might offer a comforting explanation, but it wouldn’t truly capture the essence of what makes the work resonate.
The truth is, you can’t always explain why a photograph is good — you feel it. And that feeling often takes time and effort to develop. After spending some time leafing through Atget’s books, I believe his significance begins to reveal itself. Of course, not all photographs are equal; even the greatest photographers have weaker images. But Atget stands out. He’s one of the very few — perhaps alongside André Kertész — whose photographs consistently captivate. Naturally, some will be stronger than others, but his body of work remains remarkably compelling throughout.
| Photrio.com contains affiliate links to products. We may receive a commission for purchases made through these links. To read our full affiliate disclosure statement please click Here. |
PHOTRIO PARTNERS EQUALLY FUNDING OUR COMMUNITY:  |