In these circumstances it is not fanciful to wonder if the tune Kertész heard in 1959 was the same one he had heard in 1922. What have they — the photographer and his surrogate, the blind accordionist — been doing in the meantime? The point is that there is no meantime. There was just that moment and now there is this moment with nothing in between, just the accordion collapsing and expanding, the tune unchanging: We are the poppies sprinkled along the field. We are simple crosses dotted with blood. Beware the sentiments concealed in this short rhyme. Be wise. Be good.
Note: Hypothetical
Evans’s point is that the book will be as much about photography — specifically what constitutes an American photograph — as it is of photographs. The photographed words serve, in Wordsworth’s words, ‘like a title page / With letters huge inscribed from top to toe’. The theme is continued in the next picture: a close-up, dominated by the single word STUDIO, of a window showing hundreds of examples of the kind of photographs produced in places like the one on the previous page. The third image is of two actual ‘faces’—as opposed to a picture of pictures of faces — in Pennsylvania,...
Note: Write
There is a moment in friendships — sometimes this moment can last a lifetime — of absolute equality. What each person gives is balanced exactly by something that the other contributes, even if one party is unaware of it. Stieglitz recognizes this in spite of himself. What is captured in this picture of Strand, in other words, is both a historic and biographical moment — and that, according to John Berger, is exactly what defines the nature of portraits by Strand: a moment ‘whose duration is measured not by seconds, but by its relation to a lifetime’; in the case of this portrait of Strand,...
Note: Write