Dodging around other visitors in the National Gallery of Art, I worried that I didn’t have the aesthetic experience to do Andre Kertesz’s photography justice. Reassuringly, the photographer would not have minded. A quote on the wall makes Kersetz’s position clear: “I am an amateur and intend to stay that way for the rest of my life.”
Born in 1894, Kertesz grew up in Hungary and began taking pictures at age 17. The exhibition traces his career, working in every genre from photojournalism to portraiture. He gained critical acclaim, sold out and lost his reputation, regained it and, along the way, influenced some of the world’s greatest photographers, from Robert Capa to Henri Cartier-Bresson.
His early photos, taken as a teenager and during his four years serving in the Austro-Hungarian army during World War I, betray both his inexperience and emerging talent. Working without a photographic enlarger, Kertesz printed directly from the negatives and the resulting photographs are small, two-inch squares. An unusual sight in a gallery full of enormous prints, these miniscule pictures force the viewer to stand intimately close to the wall to experience the details of the picture.
“A Red Hussar Leaving” is the most emotionally grabbing among the collection. A poignant farewell scene from World War I, the picture focuses is on a crying baby and her grief-devastated mother as a soldier, his face obscured, says goodbye. The picture is typical of Kertesz’s style during the war; shying away from shots of front-line devastation, he focused on the more human plights of his fellow soldiers.
Kertesz’s worked almost exclusively in black-and-white and with small format cameras, capturing moments in everyday life with a strong emphasis on light and shadow. Though many of his photos were lighthearted, almost all retain at least a hint of melancholy and foreboding.
Kertesz blossomed as an artist during his years in Paris after he left the army. Taking advantage of the booming creative community in the 1920s, Kertesz embodied the stereotype of the expatriate auteur. Long walks in the back alleys of Paris, bucolic countryside picnics with painters, romance and a series of contracts as a photojournalist led to a successful exhibit in 1927.
The critically acclaimed display was revolutionary. Many of Kertsesz’s contemporaries used rigid composition or studio preparation to produce their work, and Kertesz’s ability to capture what Cartier-Bresson would later refer to as the “decisive moment” set him apart.
“He doesn’t even have the photographer’s usual tricks,” a contemporary issue of Chantecler magazine exclaimed.
“Portrait of a Ballet Dancer” is a standout photo from this era. A woman stares directly into the camera, her eyes smoldering, hair half covering her face. The photo is intriguing and dramatic, but not at all refined. One can easily imagine Parisians of the ‘20s becoming enthralled with these photos.
As World War II loomed, Kertesz left for New York City. There his fortune began to decline and he turned to a contract with Home and Garden magazine to earn his keep. His pictures during this time betrayed his alienation but show his acceptance over time of his adopted country. His artistic reputation was restored in the ‘60s, when he returned to his more personal work.
The Kertesz exhibition is most pleasant when you step back and experience the life of this artistic genius as he developed and evolved, exploring his own talent at the inception of a new era in photography. The exhibit is at its weakest when the sheer volume of his work threatens to overwhelm a novice observer. Nonetheless, it does manage to showcase the varied and influential work of this photographer, whose legacy lives on in every artist seeking to capture life’s true emotions in their work.
The Andre Kertesz exhibition runs through May 15th in the National Gallery of Art, 6th and Constitution.
