Category — ICP Exhibit

The photos in International Center of Photography’s “Cuba in Revolution” exhibition were undeniably beautiful. They managed to capture several different aspects of the Cuban culture from before, during, and after the revolution. The photographs and their subjects were extremely diverse, ranging from funny to somber to celebratory. There was a photo of a grinning Cuban man wearing nothing but tight underwear and an oversized sombrero proudly holding up bottles of liquor, just inches away from a dark photo depicting two grim soldiers.

One especially striking part of the exhibit was the pictures of Che Guevara after his death. As I initially passed these photos I just glanced over them, assuming them to be uninteresting pictures of Guevara sleeping. However I was later drawn back to these photos by a friend who told me that they were pictures of Guevara’s corpse. These photos were perhaps even more disturbing than more graphic photos I have seen of deceased people because the expression on Che’s face was so peaceful. The photos were close-ups on his face and his eyes were open and bright, his mouth shaped into a slight smile. He did not look like a dead man.

Another photo that caught my attention was one called La Caballeria. It was one of the first photos you saw when you walked into the exhibition, depicting Cuban soldiers on horseback holding up revolutionary flags. This photo shows the intense passion of the soldiers and is an uplifting representation of the revolution. The contrast between light and dark in the photo is particularly noticeable. There is a white horse at the front of the group who contrasts sharply with the darker horses surrounding it. Its head is held high and its ears are alert and forward. The other horses seem small and weak by comparison. This white horse is a beacon of light, guiding the soldiers and their horses down the road to independence.

The last photo I saw as I left the exhibition was one of a young man and woman embracing. This photo contrasted with the images of Che Guevara’s corpse that I had just seen. This picture was very positive and hopeful. It hinted at a bright future for Cuba and its youth.

As I was coming off the rainy sidewalks and into the International Center for Photography (ICP), my eyes were met with an unusual sight. It was a large suitcase gleaming on the wall with what appeared to be rolls in the suitcase. I never for once believed that this gleaming picture on the wall was of any significance until the history behind it was explained. The Mexican Suitcase as it was known, was a compilation of photos of a civil war to photos of families. The over 126 rolls of films in the suitcase were taken by several photographers: Capa, Chim, Taro, Stein, and Seymour. Yet, this was still not the most interesting part about this suitcase, the over two thousand negatives were recently discovered in Mexico City, even though many people thought they were lost.

After the introduction to the giant suitcase I began walking around the exhibit and noticed a certain photograph of a woman nursing a baby with airplanes flying on top of her. Chim was the photographer of the woman nursing the baby; however, the pictures of the airplanes flying on top of her were edited in. For a long time this photograph created a great amount of controversy because there was some question as to whether the airplanes flying over the woman was edited or not. However, since the recovery of the Mexican Suitcase, the original negative revealed that the airplanes in fact were edited in. This already shows the significance of uncovering the lost negatives because it would help in clearing up many questions.

The lower level of the exhibit featured photographs of the Cuban Revolution. Many of the pictures depicted young soldiers fighting a war that they were dragged into. The photographs often were of civilians or innocent bystanders traveling. One photograph that remains etched in my mind is one of an old woman traveling with her family. She was carrying a large amount of supplies and appeared to be escaping from a war torn area. The photograph was very effective at creating a sense of disparity and evoking emotions of pity.

As I traveled back up the stairs I noticed something that I missed before. I was presented with the actual suitcase itself. Contrary to my beliefs, it was not actually one suitcase but three suitcases, each of which held many negatives. The suitcase itself was nothing extraordinary, but it is obvious that the old brown boxes are of great value.

The exhibit was a revealing experience. It opened up my eyes to different types of angles and photography. As a photographer you are not limited to just one or two different themes, you can choose to focus on different subject matters and shoot just certain type of people.

The exhibit on the Cuban Revolution of 1959 at ICP was an interesting one because it covered all the ground you could never get out of a history textbook. Through the photographic lens, we got to see the leaders of the revolution being regular people; Che Guevara and Fidel Castro were photographed skiing, playing baseball, drinking mate, smoking, etc. They seemed pretty similar to the regular people of Cuba, though we are reminded that they are not when shown certain photos such as Comandante Camillo Cienfuegos and Captain Rafael Ochoa at the Lincoln Memorial, Washington, DC,.

It was exciting to me to see the iconic picture of Che Guevara, the one all the hipsters don on their T-shirts just because he looks cool, in many different publications. I learned that he is cropped out of the original photo where he poses with someone else. We also got a taste of the culture in Cuba during the time of revolution through photographs; we saw dancing, kissing, several family portraits, and a growing love for The Beatles.

Though this exhibit was more the contemporary and interesting one to me of the two, there was one part of the Mexican suitcase that was interestingly unique which the Cuban Revolution exhibit could not make up for. Only here did we get to see a photo in various stages of its’ printing: the negatives, the original prints, and the way they were edited and published. There we also were able to see the negatives that were lost and never published anywhere. Still, the Cuban exhibit was more enjoyable to me. And it too, gave us the privilege if viewing never before seen photos – it was actually quite strange to me that they had an entire room dedicated to photos of Che Guevara’s dead corpse from his death in Bolivia in 1967. These are the true war photos to me, the ones that the textbooks leave out. This gave me an appreciation for photography and the way that it captures themes which words sometimes fall short in describing.

The one photo that I was stunned by was “La Caballeria,” taken by Raul Corrales. This is the photo that my mind kept coming back to after seeing the exhibit. The photo demonstrates an aspect of photography that I think we have lost. I feel as though photographers of today take fewer risks. This photo is real, raw, and dangerous.

Photos from: http://www.icp.org/museum/exhibitions/cuba

http://shopping.icp.org/mexican_suitcase/images/ms_story_vu.jpg

Either with magnifying glass in hand or torso bent curiously forward, visitors of “The “Mexican Suitcase” examined the negatives of the Spanish Civil War taken by Robert Capa, Gerda Taro, Chim, and Fred Stein.  Their work depicts the condition of war as it is: no embellishment, just the human condition in war.  With advances in photography, photojournalists were able to take action shots to document history and reveal a human element not often seen in the media.

Walking through the exhibit was like walking through certain fronts and battlefields; one could experience the history.  From Basque Country to Catalonia, one is exposed to the realities of war; the documentation of the Spanish Civil War was one of the first “media wars” as journalists and photographers wanted to use their work to support their side.  Through magazines of the time such as Regards, Ce Soir, Vu, Life, and Look, the photographers were able share their images and influence the Western world’s perception of the war.

These magazines, displayed at the exhibit reveal the choices the photographers made in what they wanted to portray.  It was interesting to read the captions they chose as well.  The images I found most engaging were not those on the war front, but those of civilians.  With photography, we are able to see landscapes, people, and interaction as it was.  Having the negatives allows us to see what was not necessarily intended to be exhibited as such.  However, the journey of the negatives, and the importance in capturing history that the negatives hold, as well as the presentation of the negatives, make the exhibit worth visiting.

http://museum.icp.org/mexican_suitcase/gallery_chim.html

The brainchildren of three early war photographers have come home at last. I’m referring to the nearly 4,500 negatives that have been recovered from Mexico City, the photos that captured the scene of the Spanish Civil War, now on display at ICP. The proud parents are Robert Capa, Chim (David Seymour), and Gerda Taro, Eastern Europeans who based themselves in Paris in the 1930s.

The Mexican Suitcase exhibit features war photography in its earliest, and perhaps purest, form. A keen observer might notice the tiny block letters on the rolls of film that spell out “Eastman Kodak.” Perhaps the most striking characteristic of these early Kodak prints is their candidacy: the subjects’ sad, unknowing eyes and worried expressions are very telling of the reality of Spain at the time. Negatives, original contact sheets, and newspaper clippings dotting the walls of ICP highlight the progression of this up-and-coming field. Maybe the 30’s was the Golden Age of war photography?

I was struck by the fact that the coverage of the Spanish Civil War was done by foreigners. Photographers Taro, Capo, and pseudonymous Chim, who exposed the harsh truths of the Spanish Civil War, were all intellectuals who fled Eastern Europe to align themselves with leftist groups in the cultural hobnob of Paris. The demand for their work, sadly, was short-lived; the rise of Nazi power put an abrupt end to anti-fascist, pro-Communist publications. But during their high point, these powerful photographs surfaced all over France and the United States, and were instrumental in shaping the public’s view on the war.

As an example, Samuel Schneiderman of Warsaw, Poland used Chim’s photos to complement a Yiddish commentary he wrote on the goings-on of the war. Chim’s photos also appeared in the French newspaper Regards, which, in one image, cast the spotlight on the internment camps in France, where Spanish refugees were being held.

Thankfully, Chim, Taro, and Capa enjoy posthumous recognition for their work vis-à-vis The Mexican Suitcase. As an exhibit, though, you really need to bring along your own interest in this historical time period. That is not to say that The Mexican Suitcase is not one of the most interesting historical mysteries unraveled. Just a friendly suggestion: come equipped with a background of the political landscape in the 30’s if you want to fully appreciate the exhibit.

(http://museum.icp.org/mexican_suitcase/gallery_object.html#)

It is remarkable how much history a single suitcase can expose to the world. In the International Center of Photography’s exhibit, “The Mexican Suitcase,” one is able to witness an extremely organized and comprehensive overview of the Spanish Civil War. Upon entering the museum, I was immediately greeted with an enlarged image of the suitcase itself, carefully painted and spanning an entire wall. As I stepped further in, the first photograph I recall seeing was not one of the warfront, but rather one of Taro and Capa, two of the photographers whose works were highlighted in the exhibit. When I read the caption, I was surprised to learn that there was a romance involved between the two, an interesting fact that introduced their series of photographs. It appeared that the creators of the exhibit sought to provide a very complete view of the suitcase’s story, giving information not only on the context of the photographs, but the photographers themselves. There was even a map that displayed where the three photographers took photos from 1936-1939.

Aside from the background information on the photographers, the photographs, neatly lined across the walls, certainly captured my imagination and sparked my interest and curiosity on this historical event, which I knew nearly nothing about. As I observed some of Capa’s photographs, I realized that he was not only able to capture images of the soldiers and their activities, but also their environment. In particular, I noticed the barren and desert-like appearances of certain warfronts, especially of the Aragón Front. This dry and lifeless background seemed to mirror the theme of war and death, and made me wonder just how sad and empty the dismal atmosphere must have made the soldiers. Similarly, some of Chim’s photographs got me thinking about the war from a different angle. In a few of them, there were images of what appeared to be a religious funeral service for fallen soldiers. After looking closely at these photographs, I began pondering on the various aspects of the war culture: how the dead of both comrades and enemies were treated, how important mourning rituals were, etc.

At the same time, however, it was not always easy to study the fine details of each image, as some of them were relatively small. While there were plastic magnifying rectangles available for use, a seemingly clever and useful tool, they did very little to enhance the photograph viewing experience. Moreover, there was also a projected video documentary on one of the walls. Unfortunately, I felt as if I were viewing a movie on mute. While it seems reasonable that the audio accompanying the video was not put on a high volume, it was difficult to follow and understand what was being depicted. Although I do recognize that the additional media was a creative touch to the exhibit, it failed to supplement the information already provided by the photographs and their captions.

On the other hand, “The Mexican Suitcase” also showcased original artifacts that strengthened the historical richness of the exhibit. For instance, there were some original documents, such as government letters from Paris and magazines from the 1930s. They were in various languages, including Spanish, French, and what appeared to be either be Hebrew or Yiddish. Although I did not understand what any of these papers meant, just the idea that they came from across the world and from an entirely different time period fascinated me. However, the most notable artifacts were certainly the actual three boxes that comprised the Mexican suitcase. Suddenly, the gridded boxes filled with rolled film became real, allowing me to really absorb the story of the suitcase.

Although this exhibit was small, it was overflowing with historical information. Like the suitcase itself, “The Mexican Suitcase” had much to offer, including countless photographs, old documents, and a deeper insight on the Spanish Civil War. While I did not anticipate witnessing such an eye-opening exhibit, I was pleasantly surprised by my visit to ICP.

The first thing that I see when I walk into the International Center of Photography is a blown-up picture of an opened case: the cover of the case is divided into many boxes with different descriptions in respect to their negative’s cubbyhole. These negatives were recovered in Mexico City; in 2007, the International Center of Photography received three of these cases filled with the negatives of photographs taken of the Spanish Civil War. These photographs were taken by Robert Capa, Gerda Taro, Fred Stein, and David Seymour (also known as Chim). The Mexican Suitcase exhibit featured various photographs of soldiers, the warfront, various places such as churches and factories, as well as magazine and newspaper excerpts.

From 1936 to 1939, Robert Capa captured the events of the Spanish Civil War alongside Gerda Taro and David Seymour. Before fleeing from Europe to America in 1939, Capa left thousands of negatives in Paris, which ended up in Mexico City more than half a century later. Most of Capa’s photographs on display featured the warfront and the backs of soldiers. He was a daring photographer who was unafraid of following soldiers straight into the midst of war. Many photographs, including “Republican soldiers storming forward in jumps, Rio Segre, Aragon front, near Fraga, Spain,” “Republican machine gunner behind stones, Rio Segre, Aragon front, near Fraga, Spain” and “Republican soldiers bring in the wounded, Rio Segre, Aragon front, Fraga, Spain” feature soldiers with their back turned to his camera, focusing on the war in front of them. I was intrigued by the photograph with a soldier carrying another soldier over his shoulder because Capa strategically took the photograph with them as the main focus, right in the center of the frame. They are cast in shadow from the sun behind them and are the darkest points in the picture.

Many of Gerda Taro’s photographs are in the setting of a forest in Navaserrada Pass, Segovia front in Spain. Some photographs feature soldiers ready for battle, such as “Republican soliders crouching, Navacerrada pass, Segovia front, Spain” and others show soldiers at ease, such as “Republican soldiers standing by tank, Navaserrada Pass, Segovia front, Spain.” Other photographs showed the brutality of war, such as three particular photographs with wounded soldiers on stretchers. These pictures seemed almost posed since the soldiers carrying the wounded looked directly into the camera when she took the photographs.

Chim’s photographs were extremely diverse, varying from the “Siege of Alcazar Toledo,” a photograph taken in a textile factory in Sabadell in 1936, to photographs of church exteriors and architectural details in the Basque region. Chim’s photographs of the architectural details of the churches and the Butron Castle really stood out to me in the sense that he took many photographs in varying positions and angles relative to the buildings.

I came across a glass showcase which contained the actual case with the negative films still inside of it. Much smaller than the enlarged picture on the wall at the front entrance, it was interesting to see the minute details of the case and the fact that you can see that aging has occurred to the case.

Going downstairs to the exhibit Cuba in Revolution, there were a series of photographs that stood out to me of the same person, Che Guevara, an Argentine Marxist revolutionary. At first glance, I wondered why every single photograph was of him strategically propped up to take a picture for the camera. As I read the captions for each photograph, they spoke of the same fact: this was a photograph of the corpse of Che Guevara. In a couple of the photographs, Guevara is the main focus, while in others, there are numerous soldiers around him. One photograph showed a soldier holding a picture of Guevara next to his body.

Passing through these two exhibits, I felt as if I was witness to many of these events, as a soldier in the war, as a bystander to the culture around me in Spain, and as a sponge taking in all of the history around me in these photographs. I learned so much from these photographs and noted many of the photographers’ techniques when taking the picture, considering the direction of light, the focal point of the picture, and choosing the subjects to take pictures of.

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http://shopping.icp.org/mexican_suitcase/taro/ms_taro_1_28.jpg

As you enter the International Center of Photography, your attention is immediately drawn to a large wall that has a little background information on the exhibit, to introduce you to what spectacles you are about to witness. The main focus of the exhibit at ICP was the Mexican Suitcase, which contained nearly 4,500 negatives that were considered lost. They were recovered from Mexico City, and are now on display at the ICP. The Suitcase was actually three separate boxes, and four photographers took the negatives inside: Robert Capa, Chim (David Seymour), Gerda Taro, and Fred Stein. Stein mostly captured self-portraits of Taro, “which after her death became inextricably linked to images of the war itself.”

Introductions are generally overlooked, skimmed, and forgotten very quickly. This introduction, however, already had an artistic touch. The six ceiling lights in the room were directed at the text in such a way that you had to continuously move around to avoid the glare from the shiny letters. I thought it was an interesting touch, although I did not appreciate having to move around, or squint through the glare when reading it. It seemed as though the lighting throughout the entire exhibit was either poorly planned out, or intentionally directed in such a way that you had to strain your eyes. Either way, analyzing and critiquing the lighting was not the reason why I came to the ICP, and I quickly overcame my annoyance and focused on what was really interesting and captivating – the photography from the Spanish Civil war.

The prints of the negatives found in the Mexican Suitcase captured scenes ranging from frontline war action to families working together in shops. Chim was responsible for the latter types of photographs, while Taro and Capa were the ones who risked their lives on the front, trying to capture the reality, fear, and violence of the war. On July 26, 1937, Gerda Taro became the first female photographer to die reporting on a war. She was a passenger in a car that was struck by a tank, and was fatally wounded, dying the next day. Many of her prints that were on display at the ICP were astounding, and more importantly, genuine. There was no posing; only real scenes, with real action, and real death.

As I moved further through the exhibit, I came across the Suitcase itself, which as I already mentioned, was actually three separate boxes that resembled the boxes I used in my childhood for collecting rare rocks and minerals. Their yellowed and tattered appearance definitely resembled their age – over 70 years old.

An interesting way of presenting the prints was brought to my attention by a friend – it appeared as though there was no effort put in to rotate the photographs. We constantly had to tilt our heads to see the photographs that were taken in landscape view, but presented as portraits. It is likely that this was an attempt to preserve authenticity and originality. Luckily no photographs were upside down! Another detail about the presentation of the prints was brought to my attention by Professor Bernstein. The vintage gelatin prints were all floated, to “preserve antiquity” and avoid ruining them, while the modern prints were overmatted. Overmatting is used when the edges of prints serve no integral purpose, and it seemed appropriate that the prints with sharp contrast were cut off with sharp edges.

Continuing down the stairs to the first floor, I came across the photograph that I now consider my favorite from the exhibit. It was a print by Capa titled “French internemtn camps for Republican exiles.”

http://www.icp.org/sites/default/files/imagecache/Current_Exhibition/exhibition_images/mexicase_1.jpg

This was my favorite print because it resembles one of my favorite paintings by Repin – Бурлаки на Волге

http://1russian1.com/data/image/burlaki_na_volge.jpg

There was no story captioned, so I appreciated it for a few moments and continued down the stairs to the rest of the exhibit. The rest of what I saw in the ICP focused mostly on Che Guevera and Fidel Castro. This is understandable, because they were the ones who revolutionized Cuba. Che Guevera seemed to be big on watches; in an interview with Laura Berquist of Look magazine, he can be seen wearing a Rolex GMT Master in a photograph of him pressing his fingers to his eyes, engaged in thought. In another print of him in Ernest Hemingway’s Marlin Fishing Competition, he is wearing two watches, one of which is another Rolex.

From the interviews, to the fishing and hunting trips, to him just smoking cigars, I was almost given the impression that Che Guevera barely did any work at all. My first impression was quickly shattered by the images in the next room, of his death. The story flowed slowly, but as I walked around the room, it all came together, and the hero’s death was summed up. I am not religious, but many would object to his “iconization” and portrayal as Jesus Christ in some of those photographs.

I left the ICP with a greater understanding of the Spanish Civil War, and new ideas and views on Che Guevera and Fidel Castro. The exhibit showed them in a positive light, unlike the one that our government tries to show them in. I enjoyed the exhibit and regret not being able to stay with the group and experience it together with them – sorry guys!

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