Photographs of famous people are so common — whether taken by the paparazzi or for promotional reasons — that most of us never think about what kind of portrait is painted by the image. The famous have been immortalized time and again by the media, a trend that has stripped away any chance of the mystery, sacredness and drama of the flash or thoughtful exposure. Yousuf Karsh, one of the greatest portrait photographers of the 20th century, stands as a stark contrast to today's click-happy environment. Just this week, an exhibition of over 100 of his photographs opened at the Museum of Fine Arts Boston. "Karsh 100: A Biography in Images" marks the 100th anniversary of Karsh's birth and showcases some of his most famous works.
The show is a collection of legendary faces — movie stars, heads of state, politicians, musicians and artists all come together in one gallery. Evidence of Karsh's warm personality is infused in each photograph, all except the one that is said to have jumpstarted his career. In December of 1941 he was famously given two minutes to photograph Winston Churchill, and under the pressure of time and the prime minister's persistent scowl, Karsh managed to capture a complex look of disgruntled impatience and slight amusement on the politician's face. The story goes that Karsh, after several polite requests for Churchill to put out his cigar for the photograph, took the cigar out of his mouth with a gentlemanly "forgive me, sir" just before taking the photograph.
The Churchill portrait thrust Karsh into the public eye, and by January, requests were pouring in for the prints, which served as a powerful jumping-off point for the unknown Canadian photographer.
Karsh became well known on the international scene, going to England to photograph Princess Elizabeth and King George VI, to Hollywood to shoot pictures of actors, and to the first meeting of the United Nations to do portraits of heads of state.
The MFA has lined up these stars to form a striking hall of fame, but what is most intriguing is their stage quality. These faces are theatrical, so that even the politicians seem like actors and screen stars look like pantomimes. Karsh's photographs are close, intimate and telling, investigating faces with the detail of a paintbrush, and are true portraits, created with more tactile molding than the flash of a bulb or the closing of a shutter.
Karsh manipulated his subjects, and his technical know-how made him extraordinary — he dressed his subjects, controlled their expression and pose, and honed the lighting. Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis stands in front of an Asian screen like a mannequin, wearing an ornate silk dress, creating an image of wealth, luxury and pristine beauty. There is a stark contrast between subjects who confront the camera, staring defiantly into the lens, and those who let Karsh study and position them. Audrey Hepburn's portrait resembles a sculptural bust, with her eyes cast downward, her dark features, like the curve of her neck, exaggerated. The more frontal portrait of Ernest Hemingway has him staring off in some contemplative daydream. Karsh set it against a dark background, so that Hemingway's rugged beard and fisherman's sweater make a textured, casual contrast to formal portraiture. Fidel Castro and Pablo Picasso are personalities that challenge the camera and viewer, staring blankly and refusing Karsh the creative leeway he is allowed with others.
Some of the most beautiful portraits are of artists, and Karsh has an insightful understanding of their relationship with their work. He not only creates a portrait of the personalities and familiar faces of his subjects, but also draws connections between their fame and their work. Picasso, a notoriously strong personality, is dwarfed by one of his giant painted vases; Georgia O'Keefe sits among driftwood and a cow's skull, her typical subjects. Ansel Adams' gleeful face seems to jump towards the camera, so close that the top of his hat is cut off at a sharp angle, expanding his form like one of his mountainous landscapes.
Including one of his cameras, his fedora and his passport, as well as typewritten reports of sessions, and even an interview with Albert Einstein discussing immortality and the future of mankind, the show praises Karsh as a courtly character worthy of his subjects' fame. His photographs could make people famous, but Karsh himself remains humble and mysterious, never exposed by his own camera, so that all possible inferences about his personality emanate from the staged responses of his subjects.
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Karsh 100: A Biography in Images
At the Rabb Gallery, through Jan. 19
Museum of Fine Arts, Boston
465 Huntington Avenue
617-267-9300
