Camera Work: A Photographic Quarterly (1904 (Heft 6))

problem, and he at once makes the effort to transform it into a pictorial
revelation.
Just his very opposite is Joseph T. Keiley. He, too, sees the beauty
of detail, but finds it so beautiful in itself that he forgets all artistic possi-
bilities. He lingers over details so long and lovingly and discovers such a
wealth of beauty in them that he grows confused. When he photographs a
beautiful woman, he hesitates to show her in the full bloom of her youth,
but tries to subdue her charms. And as beauty must be wooed in a more
ardent fashion, she often evades so cold a lover; but when he succeeds in
holding her she reveals herself in one of the most tender of moods. His
work conveys an effect like the ringing of an old church-bell. A deep,
mysterious sound in the bass and above it a very light ethereal one, so
fugitive that it seems to vanish at every moment. His “Spring,” Corot-
like and evanescent like spring itself, plainly sounds these two notes and
is one of the gems of the exhibition.
Stieglitz, as usual, holds his own. His older work seems just as strong
and interesting as it did years ago, and nearly every picture he adds comes
near to being a masterpiece. In his “Hand of Man” he shows that he is
still the same accomplished artist as in " The Net-mender,” " Watching for
the Return,” and " Winter on Fifth Avenue.” In it he betrays a decided
step in advance, as he has undertaken to imbue it with a feeling of mystery
which his earlier pictures have lacked. We all know how indefatigably he
has worked for the Secession, and I know no better word of praise than to
apply to him what I have said about St. Gaudens and American sculpture:
" It owes the best, if not everything, to him; without him American artistic
photography would be a myth.”
A very welcome newcomer is Alvin Langdon Coburn. During the
last two years he has made wonderful strides. The first exhibition of his
pictures that I ever saw rather bored me, though his personality interested
me, reminding me of the French symbolist poet Emanuel Signoret (whom he
strongly resembles in appearance), who said of himself at the age of twenty:
" I am young; I am a poet, for youth is poetry.” But now matters have
changed. He is on the way toward becoming a full-fledged personality.
He has begun to see objects, insignificant in themselves, in a big way.
His " Ipswich Bridge” is one of the strongest pictures in the exhibition.
He displays a decided feeling for the decorative arrangement of masses, and
his composition, strongly influenced by the Japanese, via Dow, is at times
exceedingly clever, as shown in " The Dragon.”
Clarence H. White, a sincere, straightforward talent of rare refinement
and never-tiring student in quest of beauty, has convinced me more than
ever that his is a rather limited field, but that he stands absolutely unique
as a photographic illustrator. His illustrations for " Eben Holden” and
" Beneath the Wrinkle” will not be easily surpassed, the only man at times
approaching him, in the power of characterization being Edmund Stirling.
A note, not exactly new, but nevertheless praiseworthy was struck by
W. F. James. He is the pictorial reporter par excellence. He displays a

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