Bill Brandt (2)

Bill Brandt, Loch Slapin, Isle of Skye, 1947. Copyright Bill Brandt.

When I first got interested in photography, Bill Brandt was the photographer in whom I was most interested. So when I went to search for what he had said about atmosphere, a few weeks ago, it was nice to spend a couple of hours looking at his pictures, something I hadn't done in a while.

For the first time I can remember, though, I was moved to question the aggressiveness with which many of those pictures are printed.


Bill Brandt, Barbary Castle, 1948. Copyright Bill Brandt.

I knew that Brandt's darkroom work has always been the subject of some criticism, and that the contrast with which he printed increased noticeably over his lifetime. But I had never before been as struck by the extent to which he used contrast, and a general printing down of everything but the highest highlights, to achieve the atmosphere for which he was known.


Bill Brandt, Snicket, Halifax, 1985. Copyright Bill Brandt

And I was a little disappointed. Is all this drama really necessary? Wouldn't these pictures be just as powerful if there were a few more grays in between all those blacks and whites?


Bill Brandt, Halifax, 1937. Copyright Bill Brandt.

I was reminded of something John Szarkowski said not too long ago:

"In a bad photograph, a lot of the time, the frame isn’t altogether understood — there are big areas of unexplained chemicals. It’s especially difficult as the picture gets bigger. If it’s small, a little piece of black can look like a dark place, right? But as it gets bigger, eventually it just turns into a black shape. And you look at the surface of the picture and it reminds you of the chemical factories on Lake Erie, creating pollution problems by making synthetic materials out of soybeans and petroleum derivatives. And you don’t want that. The basic material of photographs is not intrinsically beautiful. It’s not like ivory or tapestry or bronze or oil on canvas. You’re not supposed to look at the thing, you’re supposed to look through it. It’s a window. And everything behind it has got to be organized as a space full of stuff, even if it’s only air."

I like that. But I do know that many people think the basic materials of silver gelatin printing are inherently beautiful, and that others spend inordinate amounts of time, whether they print with silver or with ink, wondering whether their blacks are really black enough.

Maybe they're too black.