vrijdag 8 augustus 2014

London Londýn Miloň Novotný [A.G. Hughes (ed.), Libor Fára (graphic design)] Photography



‘Miloň Novotný [A.G. Hughes (ed.), Libor Fára (graphic design)], Londýn, Prague, Mladá Fronta, 1968, 19.5 x 21 cm (7.75 x 8.5 ”), 136 pp.
With many thanks to Mr Alfonso Melendez

"Here our ‘dear, damned, deceptive city’ is portrayed uniquely and novelly,” wrote the British journalist A. G. Hughes for the album London / The Photography of Miloň Novotný. This book, first published in 1968, has retained a timeless quality. Yet we need not have been there ourselves to appreciate the pre-eminence with which the photographer reproduced the cosmopolitan port on the Thames estuary and, in doing so, uniquely captured the mood of a city blazing a trail through the 1960s. That is not to say that this extremely complex subject is limited to topography. A decay, of sorts, in the prominence of the British empire was reflected in the souls of its inhabitants. Miloň Novotný recognised this and conveyed it in his singular way. This book is revisited not so much because of its subject-matter as for the fact that it has become a milestone in the history of photography, primarily on account of its concept.It contains a new foreword written by the author and journalist Josef Moucha.

MILOŇ NOVOTNÝ

London in the 1960s

14. 2. — 11. 4. 2014 
Miloň Novotný (1930–1992), a pioneer of twentieth-century Czech humanist photography, is today a classic. He is of the generation influenced by the legendary ‘Family of Man’ exhibition organized by Edward Steichen. Like Henri Cartier-Bresson, he photographed only in black and white, worked on principal with a Leica, and was a photographer of the ‘decisive moment’. Though his oeuvre includes photographs, for example, of the funeral of Jan Palach (who, in protest against the Soviet occupation of Czechoslovakia and the apathy of other Czechoslovaks, set himself on fire in 1969), the focal point of his work is definitely not reportage. He was a photographer-poet of everyday life, with an extraordinary ability to perceive the profound humanity in seemingly banal scenes.
Novotný came from a family in rural Moravia. He was completely self-taught as a photographer, and was thus, fortunately, not influenced by any art education in his creative development. In 1956, he went to Prague to meet Josef Sudek (1896–1976) and ask him to select photographs for his first exhibition in Olomouc. The two photographers, each from a different generation, soon developed a lifetime friendship. A year later, Novotný moved to Prague, working, for example, on the magazines Kultura (The Arts) and Divadelní noviny (Theatre news), and photographing theatre, mainly the Činoherní klub. He published about 500 photos a year, and used most of the earnings to travel.
With the implementation of the ‘normalization’ policy of the re-established hard-line Communist régime months after the Soviet-led military intervention, Novotný found himself blacklisted. His photos could no longer be published in Czechoslovak periodicals and he was not permitted to take photographs even for theatres. He therefore earned a living mainly by making portraits of musicians for the Association of Czechoslovak Composers, but that could hardly satisfy his creative ambitions.
After the collapse of the Communist régime in November 1989, Novotný began to travel the world again. When he celebrated his sixtieth birthday, it seemed that nothing could slow down the rapid opening up of his potential as a photographer. Unfortunately, he was to live only two and half more years. The few superb photos he succeeded in bringing back from his last trips, however, are evidence that he truly deserves his reputation of being one of the best Czech photographs right to the end of his life.
Novotný became part of the history of Czech photography with his outstanding book Londýn (London), which could be published in Communist Czechoslovakia in 1968 thanks to the more relaxed atmosphere of the Prague Spring. The photos included in this project, however, were not publicly shown till 2002, in an exhibition to mark the tenth anniversary of his death. Unfortunately, the exhibition, held in the Prague House of Photography, became a victim of the August floods soon after it opened, and the exhibition had to close early. Leica Gallery Prague is thus presenting this set, legendary in the history of Czech photography, in a renewed première. Concurrently with the exhibition, KANT is publishing a re-edition of Londýn, with a new preface by the photographer and critic Josef Moucha.
Dana Kyndrová, Curator

Exhibition: London in the 1960s

Since yesterday there is a new exhibition at the Leica Gallery in Prague by a Czech photographer Miloň Novotný. It consists of street photographs from sixties London. And - similarly to the previous exhibition by Elliott Erwitt - it is short and nice :)
Od včerejška je v Leica Galerii v Praze nová výstava českého fotografa Miloně Novotného, která se skládá ze záběrů pouličního života šedesátých let v Londýně. A - podobně jako předchozí výstava Elliotta Erwitta - je krátká a milá. Takže jestli máte rádi street photography a/nebo Londýn, určitě si tam skočte :)





"London's stellar era, when it profited from its status as the capital of a wealthy empire, remained inscribed in architectual monuments and resonates with the curious contrast of its genius loci. For all that, the decay, of sorts, that had descended on the megacitywas reflected in the souls of its inhabitants. Miloň Novotný was able to distinguish this and convey it in his singular way." 
"Hvězdná éra, kdy Londýn těžil z postavení hlavního města bohaté říše, zůstala vepsána v architektonických památkách. Jistá zašlost megalopole se ovšem promítá do duší jejích obyvatel. Miloň Novotný to dokázal rozeznat a osobitě podat." 




See also 

Brian Duffy Photographer of the Swinging Sixties Photography






















donderdag 7 augustus 2014

Portraits from the cosmopolitan Caucasus ERMAKOV PHOTOSTUDIO PHOTOGRAPHER COLLECTOR AND ENTREPENEUR Photography


ERMAKOV PHOTOSTUDIO

PHOTOGRAPHER, COLLECTOR AND ENTREPENEUR

Created on 22 APR 2014
From 14 June to 31 August 2014, the Nederlands Fotomuseum will present more than a hundred vintage prints from the archives of the photographer, collector and entrepreneur Dimitri Ermakov (Georgia, 1846-1916). This substantial collection consists of pictures that Ermakov made himself, supplemented by photos made by contemporaries from the Caucasus.
The pictures give a unique depiction of the Caucasus – which is still relatively unknown to many people in the Western Europe – at the end of the 19th century. Everyday life, the population and the landscapes, as well as the early modernization of the region, have been captured conscientiously and in great detail. Ermakov later opened a photostudio in Tbilisi (capital of Georgia) where he, as a modern entrepreneur, sold photos from his collection. Ermakov’s archives belong to the few reasonably complete photo archives to have survived from this period, and are therefore of great historical significance. The archives are kept in the National Museum of Georgia and have been restored and preserved by the restoration department of the National Museum of Georgia and the Nederlands Fotomuseum over the past ten years. Stichting Horizon has been closely involved in the restoration.
Ermakov as a traveller 
Ermakov began his career as a travelling photographer in around 1860. One of his first trips took him to Constantinople (now Istanbul), where he focused his lens on architecture and everyday urban life. In subsequent years, he travelled further through the Caucasus and surrounding regions, visiting Armenia, Azerbaijan and Persia (Iran), among other countries.

Photos of local crafts, markets and city scenes give a lively impression of 19th-century life in the Caucasus. The fact that Ermakov was already renowned in his own time is demonstrated by the fact that he was the official photographer to the Shah of erstwhile Persia.

Besides everyday scenes and portraits, Ermakov’s collection provides a very accurate picture of modernization in the Caucasus. The images illustrate the advance toward the 20th century, which is primarily oriented toward mobility and industrialization. There are shots of the construction of railways, stations and bridges, the oil fields near the city of Baku, and the opening of the first industrial exhibition in Tbilisi (1896).

Ermakov Photostudio
In 1880, Ermakov returned to Tbilisi, the capital of Georgia, where he opened a photostudio in the centre of town. He had in his possession a great many photos from the then Ottoman Empire (present-day Turkey), which he supplemented with new photographic collections from third parties in the course of time. His studio was a sales outlet to collectors. Travellers, too, came to his studio to buy a photo as a souvenir. There was a choice of photos of cities, landscapes and ethnic groups from the Caucasus. The archives also show that Ermakov continued to make portraits in his studio.

The detailed administration of the collection is rather exceptional. Every negative is accompanied by a title and a sequence number, and is stored in a numbered chest. Prints of the negatives are ordered according to theme or location, and clustered in numbered photo albums. All data are brought together in indices so that Ermakov could access a corresponding negative or print in a photo album with great ease.

Photostudio in the exhibition
The exhibition presents a copy of Ermakov’s photostudio, and contains some original material from his studio. The restoration studio of the Nederlands Fotomuseum is also on show, where the visitor can catch a glimpse of the specialist preservation and restoration work performed by the Nederlands Fotomuseum behind the scenes.

Ermakov collection on tour after the restoration
With more than 20,000 original prints, around 16,000 glass negatives, 13,000 stereo photocards, more than 100 photo albums and various cameras, the National Museum of Georgia is the proud owner of most of Ermakov’s collection. The rich archives are among the very few photo archives from that period that are relatively complete, thus making them of great historical significance.

From 1999 to 2010, the restoration studio of the Nederlands Fotomuseum worked with the National Museum of Georgia on the restoration, conservation and inventory of this archive, supported by a generous financial contribution from Stichting Horizon. An exceptional selection from Ermakov’s archives will be presented in the Nederlands Fotomuseum to conclude this substantial restoration project. The exhibition will later be on display in the Dahlem Museum in Berlin, the Historische Huizen in Ghent, and the National Museum of Georgia in Tbilisi. 

Portretten uit de kosmopolitische Kaukasus 
Door 

Een smaakvolle salonkamer had Dimitri Ermakov (Georgië, 1846-1916), met porseleinkasten vol fotolijstjes en een sierlijke eettafel, waar hij zijn bezoekers gastvrij ontving. Geregeld stapten daar goedgeklede zakenmannen uit hun koets, nieuwsgierig geworden door die foto’s in hun hotellobby van landschappelijke panorama’s en rokende olievelden. Receptionisten verwezen hen naar Ermakov, een man met een glinsterende baard, die hen met zijn fotoalbums uitvoerig zou verhalen over zijn eigen reizen door Turkije, Perzië en Armenië.
In die zitkamer annex fotostudio konden de bezoekers dan zelf op de foto, een langdurig maar hypermodern proces. Maar geregeld verliet Ermakov het mondaine Tblisi om met zijn ‘mobiele’ fotografie – een koets en tent met apparatuur en chemicaliën – rond te reizen langs straathandel, bokswedstrijden, militaire troepen.
Een tentoonstelling in het Nederlands Fotomuseum toont zijn nalatenschap: de kosmopolitische smeltkroes van de Kaukasus in die late tsarentijd. Ossetische vrouwen, Chinese handelaars, derwisjdansers, een mooie kantoorklerk met tulband en zulke gevoelige ogen dat hij de posters van de tentoonstelling siert. Hij is strategisch gekozen: een jongeman van vlees en bloed, wiens melancholische blik ons gevoel versterkt dat we hier kijken naar een voorbije wereld. Ook hij is niet meer. Nostalgischer kan fotografie je niet doen voelen.
En dat terwijl Ermakov juist een vernieuwer was – technisch dan, niet beeldend. Zijn composities waren zelfs bewust traditioneel, met klassieke stadsgezichten en liggende vrouwen à la Titiaan. Want hoe schilderkunstiger de composities leken, hoe groter de kans op acceptatie van deze nieuwe techniek. Maar intussen toonde Ermakov wel degelijk een nieuwe tijd. Tussen de traditionele dansers en prinsen zie je in het fotomuseum de aanleg van wegen, de komst van machinerie, en die eerste olievelden in Baku: houten bouwsels boven de zwarte putten, een dreigend leger in een van gifdampen vertrokken lucht. Prachtig zijn ze. Met de kennis van nu kun je er een voorbode in zien van de door conflicten verscheurde regio van later, maar in de tentoonstelling niet. Zonder stank en geluid passen ze daar in een dromerige sprookjeswereld van dansers en badhuizen.
Tienduizenden foto’s en negatieven liet Ermakov na, die na verloop van tijd uiteen begonnen te vallen. Het Nationaal Museum Georgië en het Nederlands Fotomuseum werkten ruim tien jaar aan de restauratie ervan. Dat maakt de expositie ook een bewijs van het soort werk dat musea doen zonder dat het grote publiek ervan weet. Het was geen gemakkelijk proces: tijdens de restauratie vond in Georgië de Rozenrevolutie plaats. De smeltkroes van destijds, met zijn mooie odalisken met waterpijpen, is een onrustig gebied geworden waarin die Azerbajdzjaanse olievelden geen onbelangrijke rol spelen. Daardoor zullen Nederlanders en Georgiërs Ermakovs werk heel verschillend zien: een exotisch Verweggistan versus een nationale trots.
Wie het niet erg vindt om de nostalgische betovering te verliezen, kan in het fotomuseum een trap lager de tentoonstelling Oil & Paradise van Ad Nuis zien. Hier dezelfde regio maar dan anno nu, fullcolour, hard en nabij, waar de olie-industrie zonder verzachtende sepiatinten zo smerig oogt als ze in Ermakovs tijd ook gedaan moet hebben. Zie ook

Zo zag creatief ondernemerschap eruit in de negentiende eeuw ...










0608kun1ermakovvv.jpg


Fotostudio Ermakov

woensdag 6 augustus 2014

Paris «Paříž v Paříži» 1967 Josef Prošek [Jan Řezáč (ed.), Oldřich Hlavsa (graphic design)] Photography


Josef Prošek [Jan Řezáč (ed.), Oldřich Hlavsa (graphic design)] : «Paříž v Paříži», Prague, Mladá fronta, 1967
21 x 19,5 (8.5” by 7.75”), 160 pp.’
With many thanks to Mr Alfonso Melendez 

From the profession of a typesetter, Oldřich Hlavsa (1909-1995) developed his artistic sensitivity through a long practice in printing industry, studying type history and avant-garde trends. He admired Teige’s constructivist ideas on one side, but also respected how Sutnar, Menhart and Muzika transfered tradition into modern design. In Hlavsa’s work, typography was conceived as a visual interpretation of the content. Hlavsa was a self-tought designer, and got a first major opportunity to experiment with illustrative typographic compositions as an artistic editor of the Plamen (Flame) magazine. Although Hlavsa has never been officially teaching, encouraged throughout his career by friend Ladislav Sutnar, he spread his knowledge in the typography manual Typografická písma latinková(1957), which was also published in English by New York’s Tudor Publishing as A book of Type and Design (1960). During the Czechoslovakia’s normalization period of the 1970s and 1980s, Hlavsa put his views and polygraphic experiences in a three volume book Typographia 1 (1976), Typographia 2 (1981), Typographia 3(1986) that became an important reference for the Czech typographic and book culture. See for Oldřich Hlavsa: Book Covers
Hlavsa