Camera Work: A Photographic Quarterly (1906 (Heft 14))

mightily offended and think you very uncultured if you happen to find more amusement in the
accidental surprises of a casual " snap-shot " than in their carefully calculated results. Yet the
truth is that the thoughtless and unpremeditated experiments of the unprofessional and unartistic
wielder of the camera do occasionally result in a partial revelation of character — an absurd yet
authentical perpetuation of some insignificant phase of expression. And ridiculous or monstrous as
such results are apt to be in normal eyes, used to sorting things and judging them always in their
relations to other things, yet this much may be said for such fragmentary discoveries, that to a limited
degree they simulate the process of art inasmuch as their effect is derived from within, though, of
course, in a purely fortuitous way; whereas, in the work of the pictorial photographers, the interest
is generally quite extrinsic and imported, being a mere wrapper that bears no more relation to the
subject than does the ornamental signature in the corner.
Now, excellent precedent may be found for this detached sort of art in the tradition of
painting, and if the positive results secured by the photographers were in any measure comparable
to the sacrifice the specific distortion might well be condoned. But the poor little art-disguise is
perfectly transparent, and even when we turn from portraiture, where the requirements are in a
sense peculiarly rigid, to the larger fields of pictorial enterprise invaded by the photographer, we
find him still at odds with his subject and perpetually tormented by the same difficulty of effecting
a satisfactory compromise with the camera. Having complete liberty in the selection of material,
he is continually chastened by the obstinate character of the engine in his hands, its awkward habit
of reporting the significant and the impertinent with equal indifference. Thus even the ablest
practitioners find the difficulty of insuring interest or establishing anything like a tolerable unity of
effect so great that, when they have done what they can in a preliminary way by choosing odd
subjects, they are frequently compelled to correct the record to such an extent that in the event it
is either half-transformed into a drawing or reduced to a vague shadow that throws all the responsi-
bility of interpretation upon the beholder. It is to this point that persons of exacting taste, like
Miss Boughton, are compelled to retreat when the bugbear proves quite untamable, as it happens
very often, even though all sorts of bribes are thrown out in the form of strange themes.
The truth is that photography will always be a very imperfect substitute for drawing, or rather
no substitute at all. To the designer of power it can never be more than a help, to be used with
great caution ; for others it may serve as a harmless amusement; but it is ridiculous to imagine that
it can ever take the place of invention or supply natural deficiencies and the lack of training in those
who play with it. This may seem a superfluous observation, but you would not say so if you had
read Camera Work with any attention for the last year or so. There is no limit to the extravagant
claims made by photographers whose heads have been turned by a few successes. One of them
assured us recently that his “ art ” was “not a fashion of a moment,” but a “permanent fashion
which is to replace the Greek” ; that among other useful lessons it had taught us that Greek art
was out of date, that Greek composition was “stereotyped in the extreme” and had “lost its hold
on almost all healthy art,” and much more to the same effect. The vanity of these people is
unbelievable. The fopperies displayed in their work, their eccentric frames, the whimsical flourishes
in which they habitually indulge, and their incurable gravity—all these are but symptomatic of their
essential frivolity. Not that all of the exhibitors come under this condemnation. There are some
earnest workers here, but it is not to them that this discourse is addressed, but only to those who
are disposed to believe, because the world agrees that their art is an abortion that they themselves
are great artists born before their time.
Roland Rood, painter, scientist, and critic, wrote as follows in the
January issue of the American Amateur Photographer:
On November 25 there transpired in the amateur photographic world an event few as yet
have heard of, an event still fewer understand, but an event of such paramount importance that
its effects will in time be felt from one end of the country to the other. It was on this date
that the Photo-Secession opened their “Little Galleries” at New York. The following modest
prospectus sent to a few lovers of the photographic art is the only announcement that heralded
the event :
“The ‘Little Galleries’ of the Photo-Secession, No. 291 Fifth Avenue, New York City,
will be opened on November 25, with a member’sexhibition, consisting of pictures shown at the

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