Arthur Fellig (Weegee)

Arthur Fellig (Weegee)


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Arthur Fellig is gebore in Zloczew, Pole, in 1899. Toe Fellig elf was, verhuis sy gesin na die Verenigde State en hulle vestig hulle in New York. Arthur se pa het gewerk as 'n waentjieverkoper en 'n conciërge in 'n woonstelgebou.

Fellig het die skool op veertien jaar verlaat om sy gesin te help onderhou. Sy eerste werk was as assistent van 'n kommersiële fotograaf. Hy het ook ekstra geld gekry deur straatportrette te neem.

In 1918 was Fellig werksaam as 'n donkerkamertegnikus by Ducket & Adler in Lower Manhattan. Dit word gevolg deur soortgelyke werk met Acme Newspictures (later opgeneem deur United Press International Photos).

In 1935 verlaat Fellig sy werk as 'n donkerkamertegnikus en probeer hy 'n bestaan ​​as vryskutfotograaf maak. Deur die polisie- en brandweer se radiooproepe te monitor, kon Fellig 'n groot aantal dramatiese foto's kry. Die vermoë om die eerste fotograaf op die toneel van 'n groot voorval te wees, het daartoe gelei dat hy die bynaam Weegee gekry het ('n verwysing na die ouija-bord van die waarsêer).

Fellig se foto's verskyn in byna al die koerante van New York, insluitend New York Tribune, New York Post, Wêreld-telegram, Daaglikse nuus, Tydskrif-Amerikaans, PM en die New York Sun. In 1941 het die Photo League 'n uitstalling van sy werk, Weegee: Moord is my besigheid.

Na die publikasie van sy uiters suksesvolle boek, Naakte stad (1945). Fellig het misdaadfoto's laat vaar en konsentreer op advertensie -opdragte vir Lewe, Vogue, Vakansie, Kyk en Fortuin. Ander boeke deur Fellig ingesluit Weegee People (1946), Kaal Hollywood (1953) en Weegee deur Weegee (1961). Arthur Fellig is op 26 Desember 1968 oorlede.


Arthur Fellig (Weegee) - Geskiedenis

Hou jy van hierdie galery?
Deel dit:

En as u van hierdie plasing gehou het, kyk gerus na hierdie gewilde plasings:

Hou jy van hierdie galery?
Deel dit:

U kan nie oor die misdaadtoneelfotografie in New York praat sonder om te praat oor 'n man wat bekend staan ​​as 'Weegee' nie. Die land se eerste suksesvolle vryskut-poniekoerantfotograaf, Arthur "Weegee" Fellig, neem honderde misdaadtonele af in die post-depressie, na die verbod-era in die Big Apple.

Waarom die naam "Weegee"? Een raaiskoot is sy paranormale vermoë om by die toneel uit te kom:

"Sy oënskynlike sesde sintuig vir misdaad het hom dikwels na 'n toneel gelei wat baie voor die polisie was. Waarnemers vergelyk hierdie gevoel, wat eintlik voortspruit uit die afstemming van sy radio op die polisiefrekwensie, met die Ouija-bord, die gewilde waarsêer. Dit spel foneties , Het Fellig Weegee as sy professionele naam geneem. "

Of die bynaam het moontlik iets te doen met sy nederige oorsprong:

"Weegee het sy bynaam van destyds gekry toe hy in die laagste stadium van die fotografie -laboratorium was: die suigelingseun, wie se taak was om die afdrukke te droog voordat dit na die nuuskamer gebring word."

Ongeag hoe hy die naam gekry het, dit is baie ironies dat so 'n speels klinkende figuur die bekendste was om, in lewendige swart en wit, foto's te neem van vars lyke wat in New York versprei is.

Die baanbrekerswerk van Weegee is vandag nog steeds moeilik om na te kyk en is baie gruweliker as enigiets wat 'n poniekoerant van die 21ste eeu sou laat loop. Maar dit was nie kunsteloos nie. Soos David Gonzalez van The New York Times skryf, het Weegee die "net-die-feite-benadering van roetine-fotografie op die misdaadtoneel" vermy "om" die besonderhede en drama, die humor en die afgryse langs die strate van die stad vas te lê. "

Die galery hierbo maak 'n aantal foto's van Weegee vas, saam met foto's wat deur ander tydgenote geneem is, benewens foto's van die misdaadtoneel wat in die dekades in New York geneem is net ná Weegee se vuil heerskappy.

Is daar estetiese waarde in 'n versameling so gruwelik? Skrywer Tristan H. Kirvin skryf byvoorbeeld oor 'n uitstalling van foto's van die misdaadtoneel in New York Journal of Criminal Justice and Popular Culture, sê ja - met 'n sterretjie:

'' N Ander raaisel is natuurlik of fotografie met bewyse, toesig of misdaadtoneel kuns is. Alhoewel daar konsensus kan wees oor die positiewe artistieke eienskappe van 'realistiese' fotografie, toon die prente nie grootliks 'n kunstenaar se aanraking nie. dit is toevallig om in die meeste van hulle te woon. ”

As u nuuskierigheid morbied genoeg is en u maag sterk is, beoordeel dit self.

Kyk daarna na 'n paar van die grusaamste treffers van die afgelope dekades in New York en daarna. Sien dan meer van die mees oortuigende foto's wat ooit deur Weegee geneem is.


Die J. Paul Getty Museum

(Verso) nat stempel in blou ink, links in die middel: "WEEGEE / 451 WEST 47ST STREET / NEW YORK CITY, USA / TEL: 265-1955" (sywaarts) nat stempel in blou-swart ink, regs in die middel: "CREDIT FOTO DEUR / WEEGEE / THE FAMOUS "(omring en onderstebo).

Alternatiewe titel:

[Hulle eerste moord] (alternatiewe titel)

Departement:
Klassifikasie:
Soort voorwerp:
Voorwerpbeskrywing

'' N Familielid het gehuil, maar kinders in die doodloopstraat het die vertoning geniet toe 'n klein racket doodgeskiet is, 'het Weegee geskryf in die onderskrif wat hierdie opvallende foto in sy publikasie van 1945 vergesel het. Naakte stad. Op die voorkant wys Weegee die bloedige liggaam wat in die straat lê.

Afwisselend om te lag, in ongeloof te staar of in die kamera te kyk om hul eie tydelike kans op opname te gryp, vorm die kinders wat hierdie grusame toneel aanskou het, 'n ontstellende mengsel van menslike emosie en selfopname. Twee vroue is onder die groep: een, wat Weegee hierbo genoem het, staan ​​in die middel, haar gesig verwronge van angsbevange trane, haar persoonlike verlies word in 'n openbare skouspel.

Uitstallings
Uitstallings
Aanhoudende temas: noemenswaardige fotografiese verkrygings, 1985-1990 (5 Junie tot 2 September 1990)
Scene of the Crime: Foto deur Weegee (20 September 2005 tot 22 Januarie 2006)
Menigtes en die Amerikaanse verbeelding, 1890-2012 (17 Oktober 2015 tot 4 April 2016)
Bibliografie
Bibliografie

Wallis, Brian. Weegee: Murder is My Business (New York: International Center of Photography, 2012) ,.

Onderwyshulpbronne
Onderwyshulpbronne

Onderwyshulpbron

Hierdie inligting word gepubliseer uit die museum se versamelingsdatabasis. Opdaterings en toevoegings wat voortspruit uit navorsings- en beeldingsaktiwiteite, word voortgesit, met nuwe inhoud wat elke week bygevoeg word. Help ons om ons rekords te verbeter deur u regstellings of voorstelle te deel.

Let asseblief daarop dat hierdie databasis beelde en oorspronklike taal kan bevat wat as afbrekend, aanstootlik of grafies beskou word, en moontlik nie geskik is vir alle kykers nie. Die beelde, titels en inskripsies is produkte van hul tyd en die perspektief van die skepper en word hier aangebied as dokumentasie, nie 'n weerspieëling van Getty se waardes nie. Taal- en maatskaplike norme verander, en die katalogisering van 'n versameling is 'n voortdurende werk. Ons moedig u insette aan om ons begrip van ons versameling te verbeter.

Elke poging is aangewend om die regte status van werke en hul beelde akkuraat te bepaal. Kontak gerus Museumregte en reproduksies as u meer inligting het oor die status van 'n werk in stryd met of bykomend tot die inligting in ons rekords.

/> Die teks op hierdie bladsy is gelisensieer onder 'n Creative Commons Erkenning 4.0 Internasionale Lisensie, tensy anders vermeld. Beelde en ander media word uitgesluit.


Weegee

Weegee was die groot fotograaf van New York in die 1930's, 1940's en 1950's, wie se boek Naked City gehelp het om die mitologie van die stad te skep. Ek het geen hindernisse nie, en my kamera … ” – Weegee ook nie

Arthur Fellig het vroeg in sy loopbaan die naam Weegee verkry, 'n verwysing na die ouija -bord en sy ongelooflike vermoë om vinnig op misdaadtonele te kom, soms selfs voor die polisie (vanaf 1937 was hy die enigste burger wat 'n polisie kon installeer) radio in sy motor). Tussen 1940 en 1944 werk hy aan 'n houer by die PM -koerant, vry om sy eie verhale te kies. Hy publiseer Naked City in 1945, en volg dit die volgende jaar op met Weegee's People. Hy was gefassineer deur beroemdhede en promoveer sy eie as Weegee the Famous. Naakte Hollywood verskyn in 1953. Hy sterf in 1968. In 1981 organiseer Side Gallery die eerste Britse toer van Weegee se werk, en open 'n verhouding tussen Amber en sy weduwee Wilma Wilcox wat tot haar dood in die vroeë negentigerjare duur. In 2008 het Pat McCarthy van Amber 'n onderhoud gevoer met Sid Kaplan op Weegee en die gevierde fotograaf en drukker in New York het hom geken en die meeste Weegee -foto's in die AmberSide -versameling gedruk. 'N Afskrif van die onderhoud is hier beskikbaar.

Kontak die International Center of Photography, New York, vir die gebruiksregte

Onderhoud met Sid Kaplan

Weegee -versameling

Teks uit argiefbronne van Side Gallery:

Arthur Fellig is gebore in Oostenryk in 1899. Hy kom in 1909 na die VSA en beland in Manhattan se Lower East Side. Hy verlaat die skool in 1914 om die gesin te help onderhou, en werk 'n tyd lank as straatfotograaf. In 1923 het hy by Acme News Services aangesluit as 'n donkerkamer -operateur. In 1935 vertrek hy as vryskutfotograaf. Hy het vroeg reeds die naam Weegee verkry, 'n verwysing na die Ouija -raad en sy ongelooflike vermoë om vinnig by die misdaadtonele te kom, soms selfs voor die polisie (vanaf 1937 was hy die enigste burger wat 'n polisieradio in sy voertuig).

Van 1940 tot 1944 het Weegee gewerk aan 'n houer by die PM -koerant, hy kon sy eie verhale kies en baie van sy beste foto's in hierdie tydperk maak. In 1945 was daar 'n uitstalling in die Museum of Modern Art en die publikasie van sy topverkoper Naakte stad. Die volgende jaar Weegee se mense gepubliseer is. Hy het die verhale van New York oopgemaak: die strate, die kroeë en huise, die misdade, tragedies en vermaak, en het gehelp om die stedelike Amerika se bewussyn van homself te vorm, en sy beelde definieer die mite en die werklikheid van die stad. Hy was 'n nasionale beroemdheid en reis na Hollywood, waar hy lesings en foto's neem Kaal Hollywood (1953). Hy reis wyd en werk tot sy dood in 1968.

Nota: Amber/Side Gallery het 'n verhouding met sy weduwee, Wilma Wilcox, begin tydens die reël van die eerste groot Britse uitstalling en 'n rondleiding deur Weegee se werk. Toe sy sterf, het sy 'n groot versameling van sy werk aan Amber gegee. 'N A3 -boekie wat Weegee se lewe, werk en invloed ondersoek, wat deur Amberside in die 1980's uitgegee is, is beskikbaar op die webwerf.

Alternatiewe teks uit Side Gallery -argief:

Hy het infernos, motorongelukke en teregstellings tereggestel. Hy het opgespoelde sitkamer-sangers en tienermoordverdagtes in ruitwaens aangetref en hulle op hul mees kwesbare, of soos hy dit stel, hul mees menslike. Hy het paartjies wat op hul strandkomberse op Coney Island gesoen het, betrap en die laat-aand-voyeurs op lewensredder staan ​​en kyk na hulle. En oral waar hy gegaan het, het hy beelde van mense geslaap: dronkgangers op parkbanke, hele gesinne aan die laer -oostelike kant, vuurvlugte, mans en vroue wat in filmteaters snork. Hy was in die nag die hoogste kroniekskrywer van die stad. Hy was die enigste sluiter wat vir die polisie na 'n moordtoneel sou kom. Weegee was mal oor New York en New York was uiteindelik lief vir Weegee.

Weegee is gebore op 12 Junie 1899 in Oostenryk onder die naam Usher Fellig. Kort nadat hy gebore is, vertrek sy pa na Amerika, waar hy 'n Rabbi was, terwyl hy genoeg geld spaar om vir die res van sy gesin te stuur. Op tienjarige ouderdom het Weegee uiteindelik saam met sy ma en drie broers na Amerika gekom. Op Ellis Island is die naam van Weegee verander van Usher in Arthur.

Vroeë lewe
Wat onderwys betref, het Weegee die agtste klas gehaal. Die gesin het egter geld nodig en Weegee was nodig om te help werk. Hy het baie werk gedoen: hy het sy pa gehelp met 'n karretjie -onderneming, hy het selfs 'n rukkie by 'n lekkergoedwinkel gewerk. Toe hy sy foto deur 'n straatfotograaf laat neem, besluit hy dat dit is wat hy moes doen. Weegee het gereeld gesê dat hy '' 'n natuurgebore fotograaf was, met 'n hypo in my bloed. 'Hy bestel vinnig 'n tintjie-uitrusting by 'n posbestelhuis in Chicago, en na 'n paar maande kry hy sy eerste werk as kommersiële fotograaf. Na 'n paar jaar het hy die ateljee verlaat weens 'n meningsverskil oor wat hy moet betaal. Daarna het hy 'n tweedehandse 5 ࡭-aansigkamera gekoop en 'n ponie gehuur by 'n plaaslike stal. Hy het die ponie Hypo genoem, en oor die naweke as die kinders in hul beste klere was, het hy in die stad rondgeloop om kinders op sy ponie te plaas en hulle te neem. Hy ontwikkel dan die negatiewe, maak afdrukke en gaan terug na die kinders van die kinders om die foto's te probeer verkoop.

Acme Newspictures
Op die ouderdom van vier en twintig het Weegee sy groot deurbraak gekry by Acme Newspictures. Acme was die bron vir voorraadfoto's vir hul eie papier en ander koerante regoor die land. Weegee het in die donkerkamer begin werk en ander fotograwe se werk vir die koerant ontwikkel. Soms, as al die ander Acme -fotograwe besig was of slaap, sou hy snags uitgaan en foto's neem van noodgevalle. Na 'n paar jaar by Acme gewerk het, het Weegee 'n beroep op hom gedoen om opdragte en voorbladverhale te doen. Dit is wat hy altyd wou hê: die enigste probleem was dat hy vir Acme gewerk het, en daarom het hy nooit krediet gekry vir die foto's wat hy ingedien het nie. vryskut sy eie werk. Die meisies rondom Acme het hom die naam Weegee gegee na die Ouija -bord. Hulle het gesê dit lyk asof hy altyd weet waar hy moet wees as 'n storie breek.

Vryskutfotograaf
Weegee het die volgende tien jaar alleen as vryskutfotograaf gewerk. Hy het begin werk by die polisiekantoor in Manhattan, hy sou ongeveer middernag aankom en die Teletype -masjien nagaan of daar verhale gebreek het. Na 'n paar jaar besluit hy dat hy nie wil wag totdat die nuus oor die Teletype verskyn nie. Hy koop vir hom 'n 1938 Chevy Coupe en 'n perskaart, en hy mag 'n polisieradio in die motor hê (die enigste persfotograaf wat ooit 'n polisieradio in hul motor kon hê). Weegee se motor was sy huis weg van die huis, sy kantoor op die pad. In die kattebak het hy alles gehou wat hy nodig gehad het, insluitend 'n draagbare donker kamer, ekstra kameras, flitsligte, ekstra laaibare houers, 'n tikmasjien, sigare, salami en klere.

Ek was nie meer vasgenael op die Teletype -masjien by die polisie se hoofkwartier nie. Ek het my vlerke gehad. Ek hoef nie meer te wag totdat misdaad na my toe kom nie, ek kan dit agtervolg. Die polisieradio was my lewenslyn. My kamera … my lewe en my liefde … was my Aladdin se lamp. – Weegee deur Weegee, p52

Na tien jaar publiseer hy sy eerste boek, Die naakte stad, wat geïnspireer is deur die stad wat hy liefgehad het. Gedurende hierdie tien jaar het Weegee van sy mees ekspressiewe en mooiste foto's gemaak.

Fotografiese opleiding
Weegee het nooit enige formele fotografiese opleiding gehad nie. Hy het nog nooit van Alfred Stieglitz, Ansel Adams of selfs die Museum of Modern Art gehoor nie. Die werk wat Weegee gedoen het, kom streng uit sy hart. Nie een van sy foto's was beplan nie, sy 4 x 5 -spoed grafiese kamera was vooraf ingestel op f/16 @ 1/200 sekonde, met 'n fokusafstand van tien voet. Al sy foto's is vinnig by hierdie omgewing geneem. Watter fotografiese opleiding het Weegee moontlik nodig gehad om 'n uitstekende fotograaf te wees, het hy geleer terwyl hy by Acme gewerk het, of hy het homself geleer. Styl, tekstuur of selfs kwaliteit van die fotografie het vir Weegee nie veel saak gemaak nie. Hy was meer besorg daaroor om 'n oomblik op film vas te lê. Hy het die geskiedenis opgeteken soos dit gebeur het. Hy het slegs 'n breukdeel van 'n sekonde gehad om die emosies van 'n gebeurtenis vas te vang terwyl dit ontvou. 'N Goeie voorbeeld hiervan is die foto van die ma en dogter wat huil terwyl hulle kyk hoe 'n ander dogter en 'n jong baba doodbrand in 'n woonhuis. Al wat Weegee werklik oor hierdie foto kon sê, was: Ek het gehuil toe ek hierdie foto geneem het.

In 1939 neem Weegee 'n portret van 'n ma en haar seun in Harlem. Selfs 'n foto wat Weegee as 'n portret sou beskou, het ongelooflike emosies getoon. Met 'n klik van die sluiter vertel hy die verhaal van hierdie arme vrou. Die manier waarop hy haar en haar seun agter die glas gebreek het, is verteenwoordigend van die gebroke lewe wat sy geleef het. Maar selfs met wanhoop om haar, het sy nog steeds 'n blik van hoop in haar oë, asof sy sê dat sy nie kan opgee nie. Sy het 'n gevoel van trots as sy haar seun vashou. Dit is die krag en geskenk wat Weegee met 'n kamera gehad het.

Dit is onmoontlik om na 'n werk van Weegee te kyk en nie emosioneel betrokke te raak nie. Dit was die hele punt van sy foto's en hy wou hê dat die kyker betrokke moet raak. Op een van die eerste verhale wat Weegee moes behandel, is hy gevra om foto's te kry van 'n kind wat deur sy ma verlaat is. In sy outobiografie het Weegee gesê: Hulle (die polisie) wou foto's van die kind hê, sodat die ma, wat die prentjie in die koerante sien, berouvol kan raak en die kind sou eis. Weegee was gereed om 'n glimlaggende foto te neem toe die verpleegster hom stop. Die verpleegster het die baba met 'n speld vasgesteek, die kind het begin huil en die verpleegster het gesê: Neem 'n skoot en dit sal die ma terugbring. – Weegee by Weegee, p56. Gelukkig vir die baba het dit die ma teruggebring. Weegee het 'n taak gehad om te doen – dit was die manier waarop hy 'n bestaan ​​gemaak het. Hy moes prente maak wat die koerante sou wou koop, en die koerante wou drama hê.

Om 'n vryskutfotograaf te wees, was nie 'n maklike taak tydens hierdie stadium in die geskiedenis nie. Daar was nie baie mense wat so lank as Weegee kon slaag nie. Selfs as dit sleg gaan, het Weegee 'n goeie gees daaroor. Hy kon altyd geluk vind in alles wat hy doen. Hy was lief vir mense, hy was lief vir mense om te fotografeer, en hy was lief daarvoor om saam met mense te wees. In sy werk konfronteer hy moord, brutaliteit, kinders in nood, bakleiery, haweloses, brande en slagoffers. Hy konfronteer ook mense wat gelukkig was, geliefdes, vieringe en die einde van die oorlog. Weegee se werk staan ​​op sy eie, en dit is bedoel om een ​​vir een te beskou, nie as 'n groep nie. Met elke skoot het Weegee 'n waarheid vasgelê wat nooit weer herskep kan word nie.

Weegee sterf aan 'n breingewas op 26 Desember 1968. Vandag word Weegee erken dat hy die tydperk van die poniekoerisme ingelui het, terwyl hy terselfdertyd eerbiedig is omdat hy die vieslike kant van die menslike lewe tot die van hoë kuns verhef het.


Arthur Fellig (Weegee) - Geskiedenis

(gebaseer op & quot20th Century Photography-Museum Ludwig Cologne & quot)


Weegee /Arthur Fellig /

(Vanuit Wikipedia, die vrye ensiklopedie)

Weegee was die skuilnaam van Arthur Fellig (12 Junie 1899 - 26 Desember 1968), 'n Amerikaanse fotograaf en fotojoernalis, bekend vir sy swart en wit straatfotografie.
Weegee is gebore Usher Fellig in Z łoczew, naby Lemberg, Oostenryk-Galicia (later bekend as Z łocz & oacutew, Pole, en nou Zolochiv, Oekraïne). Sy naam is verander na Arthur toe hy in 1909 saam met sy gesin in New York kom woon het, op die vlug van antisemitisme.
Fellig se bynaam was 'n fonetiese weergawe van Ouija, vanweë sy gereelde aankoms op die toneel slegs enkele minute nadat misdade, brande of ander noodgevalle by die owerhede aangemeld is. Daar word gesê dat hy homself Weegee genoem het, of dat hy deur die meisies by Acme of deur 'n polisiebeampte vernoem is.
Hy is veral bekend as 'n openhartige nuusfotograaf wie se skerp swart-en-wit foto's die straatlewe in New York beskryf het. Weegee se foto's van misdaadtonele, motorongelukke in hul eie bloed, oorvol stedelike strande en verskillende groteskes is nog steeds skokkend, hoewel sommige, soos die samestelling van die samelewing met grootmoeders in ermines en tiara's en 'n gloeiende straatvrou by die Metropolitan Opera, nog steeds skokkend is. (The Critic, 1943), was blykbaar opgevoer.
In 1938 was Fellig die enigste koerantverslaggewer in New York met 'n permit om 'n draagbare polsband-kortgolfradio te hê. Hy het 'n volledige donker kamer in die bagasiebak van sy motor onderhou om sy vrylansproduk by die koerante te kry. Weegee werk meestal snags, hy luister fyn na uitsendings en slaan gereeld die owerhede op die toneel.
Die meeste van sy opvallende foto's is geneem met baie basiese persfotograaf -toerusting en metodes van die tyd, 'n 4x5 Speed ​​Graphic -kamera vooraf ingestel op f/16, @ 1/200 sekonde met flitse en 'n vasgestelde fokusafstand van tien voet. Hy het geen formele fotografiese opleiding gehad nie, maar was 'n self-geleerde fotograaf en meedoënlose selfpromotor. Daar word soms gesê dat hy geen kennis van die kunsfotografie -toneel in New York gehad het nie, maar in 1943 het die Museum of Modern Art verskeie van sy foto's in 'n uitstalling ingesluit. Hy is later opgeneem in 'n ander MoMA -vertoning wat deur Edward Steichen gereël is, en hy het lesings by die New School for Social Research aangebied. Hy het ook advertensie- en redaktionele opdragte vir onder meer Life en Vogue -tydskrifte onderneem.
Sy bekroonde eerste boekversameling foto's, Naked City (1945), het die inspirasie geword vir 'n groot rolprent The Naked City uit 1948, en later die titel van 'n baanbrekende realistiese televisie -polisiedramaserie en 'n orkes onder leiding van die New Yorkse eksperimentele musikant John Zorn .
Weegee het ook kortfilms van 16 mm gemaak wat in 1941 begin het, en werk saam met en in Hollywood van 1946 tot die vroeë 1960's, as akteur en as konsultant. Hy was 'n nie -gekrediteerde spesiale effek -konsultant en nog steeds 'n fotograaf vir Stanley Kubrick se film Dr. Strangelove uit 1964 of: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb. Sy aksent was een van die invloede vir die aksent van die titelkarakter in die film, gespeel deur Peter Sellers.
In die 1950's en 60's het Weegee eksperimenteer met panoramiese foto's, fotovervormings en fotografie deur prisma's. Hy het 'n beroemde foto van Marilyn Monroe gemaak waarin haar gesig grotes verwring is, maar tog herkenbaar is. Vir die rolprent The Yellow Cab Man uit 1950 het Weegee 'n reeks bygedra waarin motorverkeer geweldig verdraai word, en hy word daarvoor gekrediteer as 'Weegee' in die openingskrediete van die film. Hy reis ook wyd in Europa in die sestigerjare en maak gebruik van die liberale atmosfeer in Europa om naakte onderwerpe te fotografeer.


Hulle eerste moord (1941)


Sonder titel


Somer, The Lower East Side, 1937


Sonder titel


Sonder titel


Die Gay Bedrieër, 1939


Liefhebbers


Voeg eenvoudig kookwater by


Heatspell, 1938


Skare op Coney Island, 1940


Twee oortreders in die waentjie.


Oujaarsaand by Sammy's-on-the-Bowery, 1943


Die kritikus, 1943


Vrou met gebreekte sambreel


Paassondag in Harlem, 1940


Vermaak by Sammy's-on-the-Bowery

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Weegee the Famous, die Voyeur en Ekshibisionis

Die straatfotograaf het gretige, gruwelike New York -tonele in kuns verander.

Fotografie, aan die begin van die negentiende eeu, het gespierd om 'n gebied op 'n slag te skilder. Portret, van 'n plegtige, reguit soort, stel homself onmiddellik voor. Die stilstaande komposisie, eenvoudig en tradisioneel, voldoen aan 'n meganiese noodsaaklikheid van die nuwe kuns: vroeë ateljeefotograwe, wat aan die genade van langdurige blootstelling blootgestel is, het die rug van hul onderdane se koppe gereeld gestamp met klampe wat nie deur kamera of kyker gesien is nie. Landskappe bly op hul eie as die wind nie waai nie, sodat Gustave Le Gray 'n outomatiese Poussin kan word, terwyl Mathew Brady probeer om verby Gilbert Stuart te kom. Geskiedenisskilderye-stampvol, gewelddadig, deklamerend-moes die foto-opdatering uitstel totdat kleiner kameras foto's neem en draagbaar maak. Maar die skildery van die genre, met sy toevallige samestellings van die gewone lewe, was vroeg gereed om deur die nuwe medium toegewys te word.

In 'Bystander' (Laurence King), 'n nuut bygewerkte geskiedenis van straatfotografie, wys Colin Westerbeck en Joel Meyerowitz op die genre se vroeë neiging tot 'nederige mense as vakke'. Louis Désiré Blanquart-Evrard se "Photographic Album for the Artist and the Amateur" (1851) en John Thomson se "Street Life in London" (1877) plaas beelde van skoorsteenveërs en meulenaars voor welgestelde kykers wat hulle nuuskierig kan beskou. en kommer: "Ongeskrewe, ongekompliseerde mense het 'n andersins verlore kapasiteit vir opregtheid bewaar, waarna moderne kunstenaars en intellektuele smag." Vroeg in die twintigste eeu, toe die dokumentêre vermoëns van fotografie hervormend geword het in die hande van Jacob Riis en Paul Strand, was dit steeds, soos die beroemde titel van Riis toon, 'die kwessie van' die ander helfte 'deur diegene wat ver hierbo sit.

Eers toe die poniekoerante na die Eerste Wêreldoorlog in massa versprei is, voer Westerbeck en Meyerowitz aan, het die “nederige mense” die gehoor sowel as die onderwerp geword. Meer as enigiemand anders, was dit Arthur Fellig, selfversekerd bekend as Weegee the Famous, wie se "foto's van die armes gemaak is-ten minste oorspronklik-vir die armes self." Die New Yorkers Weegee wat gefotografeer is - veral diegene wat in skielike rampe van misdaad en brand beland het - het 'n soort roem gekry wat nie vyftien minute nie, maar meer as vyftien uur geduur het, totdat die volgende oggend se uitgawe die vorige middag weggevee het.

Weegee word dekades lank as kuns versamel, en sodoende 'n paar van die oorspronklike ander helfte van die dinamiek tussen kyker en beeld herstel. Koffietafelboeke van sy werk is volop: "Unknown Weegee" (2006), vervaardig vir 'n uitstalling in die International Center of Photography, is die minste stewige en bes gereëlde "Weegee's New York: Photographs 1935-1960" (1982) is die gruwelikste. Hierby het onlangs 'Extra! Weegee! ” (Hirmer), wat byna vierhonderd foto's bevat, saam met die oorspronklike, dikwels uitbundige, onderskrifte aangebring deur Acme Newspictures, die agentskap waardeur Weegee dit verkoop het. Maar daar was geen volledige biografie van die fotograaf nie. Nou het Christopher Bonanos se "Flash: The Making of Weegee the Famous" (Holt) 'n magdom fragmentariese herinneringe verplaas en die luidrugtige, onbetroubare memoires, "Weegee by Weegee," wat in 1961 gepubliseer is.

Usher Fellig is gebore in 'n gesin van Galiciese Jode in 1899. Hy word Arthur een of ander tyd nadat hy op die Lower East Side aangekom het, tien jaar later. Volgens Bonanos was sy 'gevoel van familie' so 'minimaal' dat hy sy eie broers en susters in die memoires verkeerdelik getel het. Die Felligs het aangesluit by die huurders wat binnekort 'n groot deel van Arthur se onderwerp sou uitmaak.

Syne coup de foudre gekom, onthou hy later, voor hy die skool verlaat het, in die sewende klas: 'Ek het my foto deur 'n straatfotograaf laat neem en was gefassineer deur die resultaat. Ek dink ek was wat u 'n 'natuurlik gebore' fotograaf sou noem, met hipo-die chemikalieë wat in die donkerkamer gebruik word-in my bloed. " Hy het 'n posbestelling vir die vervaardiging van tintjies aangeskaf en later op vyftien jaar aangestel om foto's te neem vir versekeringsmaatskappye en posbestelkatalogusse. Hy het 'n ponie gekoop om straat -egels te plaas waarvan die ouers bereid was om te betaal vir beelde wat hul nageslag soos klein grotes laat lyk het. (Die ponie, wat hy Hypo genoem het, het te veel geëet en is teruggeneem.) Gedurende die vroeë negentien-twintigerjare het Fellig in die donkerkamers van die Tye en Acme Newspictures, wat in die Acme -kantore geslaap het toe hy nie sy huur kon maak nie. Hy het die fotograwe van die agentskap voor die kompetisie gehou deur te leer om foto's op die metro te ontwikkel, net nadat hulle geskiet is. Teen 1925 het Acme hom toegelaat om sy eie foto's te neem, al was dit ongekrediteerd.

Bonanos beskryf die Speed ​​Graphic -kamera - selfs nou nog steeds deel van die Daaglikse nuus logo - as 'taai soos enigiets, meestal gebou uit aluminium en staal.' Dit was die enigste persbewys wat Fellig nodig gehad het vir moorde en brande, waar hy, nadat hy Acme in 1934 verlaat het, met 'n maniese vryskut -ywer voortduur. 'N Paar jaar later woon hy in 'n kamer op 5 Center Market Place, sonder warm water, maar met 'n handjievol boeke, waaronder "Live Alone and Like It" en "The Sex Life of the Unmarried Adult." Hy versier die plek met sy eie gepubliseerde foto's - "soos taksidermiese koppe op 'n jagter se muur", soos Bonanos dit stel. Hy het so vinnig by die aksie gekom dat hy 'n reputasie as psigies ontwikkel het (en aangemoedig het). Bonanos wys dat die sukses van Weegee meer te doen gehad het met volharding as met telepatie, 'n klok het die kamer van die fotograaf met die alarms van die brandweer verbind, en hy het toestemming gekry om 'n polisieradio in sy Chevrolet '38 te installeer. Hoe graag Weegee ook al wou hê dat mense moes glo dat sy professionele naam daarvan erken word as 'n menslike Ouija -bord, dit is in werklikheid afgelei van sy vroeë inspanning as 'n skrapseuntjie - 'n droër van pas ontwikkelde afdrukke - in die Tye ' donker kamer.

Bonanos, die stadsredakteur van New York tydskrif, bevat die 'nege dagblaaie' wat die metropool tussen die twee Wêreldoorloë beskryf het. Die Tye was 'primêr oor bloedvergieting, meer geïnteresseerd in Berlyn as in Bensonhurst', en die Herald-Tribune wou hê fotograwe moet opdaag vir opdragte met dasse. Weegee gebruik nie gereeld nie, en hoewel die poniekoerante op beeldmateriaal loop, kom sy ware brood en botter uit die middagbroadsheets, veral die Post, toe groot en liberaal, maar net so "lelik om geld te verdien" soos vandag. Die Wêreld-telegram was die eerste wat aan Weegee die individuele kredietlyne gegee het wat hy spoedig van almal beveel het. Bonanos herleef die donker gebrul van hierdie wêreld met 'n fyn, senuweeagtige lip: Weegee se moordprente het deurgebreek nie vanweë hul 'binêre lewensgehalte en dood' of hul 'tegniese geluk' nie. . . met hoeke en skaduspel ”, maar meestal omdat hul uitgestrekte, bloeiende, goed gehulde en fyn gesnyde gangsters hulle“ lekkerder ”gemaak het as al die ander.

Bonanos bewys homself ook vindingryk en spoor 'n rubbernekse sewejarige op wat Weegee afgeneem het na 'n moord in 1939, sowel as 'n kleuter wat die volgende jaar in 'n skare op Coney Island verskyn het. Lesers sal hul Weegee -versamelings op die koffietafel wil hou. Bonanos beskryf meer foto's as wat sy uitgewer redelikerwys kan reproduseer, selfs in 'n boek wat af en toe meedoënloos en vol word, soos 'n kontakblad in plaas van 'n geselekteerde afdruk. Maar Weegee en sy wêreld moedig minimalisme nie aan nie, en vyftig jaar na sy dood het hy uiteindelik 'n biograaf gekry wat hom kan byhou.

Die woes tempo van Weegee was 'n kwessie van ekonomiese en temperamentele behoefte. Maak nie saak hoe vinnig hy op die been is nie, die werk het baie tussen katastrofes gewag, en foto's van motorwrakke betaal slegs twee dollar en vyftig sent per stuk. 'Naked City', die eerste fotoboek van Weegee, wat in 1945 gepubliseer is, gee 'n tjekstomp van Time Inc. weer wat 'n betaling van vyf-en-dertig dollar vir "twee moorde" bevat. Bonanos het die variasie en die intensiteit daarvan alles vasgevang in 'n "samevatting van onrus" vanaf April 1937. Meer as drie dae het New York Weegee 'n moorddadige herontwerp gegee: 'n hamermoord, 'n brandstigting, 'n vragmotorongeluk, 'n bakleiery deur volgelinge van Harlem's Father Divine, en die bespreking van 'n jong vroulike verduistering.

Gedurende die veertigerjare was die kortstondige, liberale en prentjiebelaaide PM, which Bonanos sizes up as an “inconsistent and often late-to-the story but pretty good newspaper,” put Weegee on retainer and made his pictures pop, bringing out their details and sharpening their lines through “an innovative process involving heated ink and chilled paper.” His first exhibition, in 1941, at the Photo League’s gallery, on East Twenty-first Street, garnered good reviews. Its title, “Murder Is My Business,” was a noirish bit of self-advertisement destined to be overtaken by events: thanks to rackets-busting and a male-draining World War, New York was headed for a prolonged plunge in the rate of local killings.

Weegee liked being known as “the official photographer for Murder Inc.,” but his gangland pictures lack the pity and fear—as well as concupiscence—that his camera extracted from people committing crimes of passion and sheer stupidity. In the summer of 1936, he made a splash with photographs of the teen-age Gladys MacKnight and her boyfriend after their arrest for the hatchet murder of Gladys’s disapproving mother. In one of the pictures, the adolescent couple look calm and a little sullen, as if they’d been grounded, not booked for capital murder. Weegee displays a discernible compassion toward the panicked chagrin of Robert Joyce, a Dodgers lover who shot and killed two Giants fans when he was loaded with eighteen beers his face reaches us through Weegee’s lens as he’s sobering up, beside a policeman, his eyes wide with the realization of what he’s done. Weegee never got his wish to shoot a murder as it was happening, but his real gift was for photographing targets after they’d ripened into corpses. He “often remarked,” Bonanos notes, “that he took pains to make the dead look like they were just taking a little nap.”

Weegee’s pictures are full of actual sleepers—along with those coöperatively feigning slumber for the camera—in bars and doorways, atop benches and cardboard boxes, in limousines and toilet stalls, at Bowery missions or backstage. He became to shut-eye what Edward Weston was to peppers and Philippe Halsman would be to jumping. Even his photographs of mannequins, another frequent subject, seem to evince a fascination with, and perhaps a yearning for, rest. The dummies don’t so much appear inanimate as etherized, ready to rejoin the urban rat race once they’ve gotten forty winks.

The voyeur was also an exhibitionist. Weegee sometimes surrendered his camera so that he could inhabit a shot instead of creating it. That’s him next to an open trunk with a corpse, and there he is dressed as a clown, photographing from a ring of the circus. In 1937, Lewe commissioned him to do a photo-essay about a police station’s booking process. He turned it into a feature about a crime photographer: him. His grandiosity grew with the years, despite, or because of, his self-diagnosed “great inferiority complex.” He took credit for helping to make Fiorello LaGuardia famous (never mind that LaGuardia was already mayor), and wrote in his memoir that he and the gossip columnist Walter Winchell “had a lot of fun together, chasing stories in the night.” The index to Neal Gabler’s stout biography of Winchell yields no mention of Weegee.

In his début show, at the Photo League, Weegee exhibited a supremely affecting picture of a mother and daughter weeping for two family members who are trapped inside a burning tenement, and titled it “Roast.” A few years later, for “Naked City,” the book of photographs that forever secured his reputation, Weegee renamed the image “I Cried When I Took This Picture.” Cynthia Young, a curator at the I.C.P., has written that the retitled photograph became “a new kind of self-portrait, making the photographer part of the subject of the picture,” though she points out that some of the Photo League’s left-leaning members had disliked the original label. Did Weegee really cry? Colin Westerbeck once commented, “No, Weegee, you didn’t. You took that picture in plaas daarvan of crying.” The truth about the retitling lies not somewhere in between but at both poles. The man who once said, “My idea was to make the camera human,” experienced emotion at the fire then crafted a sick joke about it then, later still, realized that the image would go over better with sobs than with smart-assedness. Take away the question of intention and the picture one is left with remains, indisputably, a moment cut from life with a tender shiv.

The secret of Weegee’s photography—and the M.O. of his coarse life—was an ability to operate as both the giver and the getter of attention. Weegee didn’t learn to drive until the mid-nineteen-thirties, and before getting his license he relied on a teen-age driver, who took him not only to breaking news but also to his favorite brothel, in the West Seventies. The madam there, named May, “had peepholes in the wall,” and she and Weegee would watch the boy chauffeur perform in the next room. Weegee excised this last detail from the manuscript of his memoir, but merely to save the driver from embarrassment. In the early forties, he carried his infrared camera into dark movie theatres to photograph couples who were necking, and then sold the credited images. He also took some remarkable pictures of people in drag under arrest. In these images, the voyeur in Weegee seems overwhelmed by a respectful solidarity with his subjects’ defiant display. In his memoir, he writes about getting “a telegram from a men’s magazine they wanted pictures of abnormal fellows who liked to dress in women’s clothes. I would call that editor and tell him that what was abnormal to him was normal to me.”

Weegee liked to say that he was looking for “a girl with a healthy body and a sick mind.” The two most important women in his history were unlikely candidates for extended involvement. Throughout the early and mid-nineteen-forties, Wilma Wilcox, a South Dakotan studying for a master’s in social work at Columbia, provided Weegee with the non-clingy company he preferred what Bonanos calls “her mix of social-worker patience and prairie sturdiness” allowed her to survive his “erratic affection.” In 1947, he married a woman named Margaret Atwood, a prosperous widow whom he had met at a book signing for “Weegee’s People,” a follow-up to “Naked City.” The marriage lasted a few years. Weegee pawned his wedding ring in lieu of getting a divorce.

The voyeur-exhibitionist dynamic reached its peak when Weegee was, in Bonanos’s phrase, “watching the watchers”—an interest that grew over time. His pictures of people observing crime, accident, and even happy spectacle extended what Westerbeck and Meyerowitz see as street photography’s long tradition of memorializing the crowd instead of the parade. In 2007, the New York State Supreme Court affirmed the street photographer’s right to take pictures of people in public, something that had never much worried Weegee. “Poor people are not fussy about privacy,” he declared. “They have other problems.”

Weegee made three of his greatest views of viewers between 1939 and 1941. The first of them shows people neatly arranged in the windows of a Prince Street apartment building, looking out into the night as cheerfully as if they’d just been revealed from behind the little paper flaps of an Advent calendar. Below them, in the doorway of a café, is what’s brought them to the windows: a corpse claimed by the Mob and a handful of well-dressed police detectives. “Balcony Seats at a Murder” ran in Lewe, portraying harmless, guilt-free excitement, a carnival inversion of what a generation later might have been recorded at Kitty Genovese’s murder.

In the summer of 1940, Weegee captured a cluster of beachgoers observing an effort to resuscitate a drowned swimmer. The focus of the picture is a pretty young woman, the person most preoccupied with the camera, the only one giving it a big smile. She doesn’t disgust the viewer she pleases, with her longing to be noticed, and her delighted realization that she, at least, is breathing. She’s the life force, in all its wicked gaiety.

“Dr. Eliot, would you let the dog out?”

The following year, Weegee made the best of his gawker studies, a picture prompted by what Bonanos identifies as “a small-time murder at the corner of North Sixth and Roebling Streets,” in Williamsburg. In it, more than a dozen people, most of them children, exhibit everything from fright to squealing relish. “Extra! Weegee!” reveals that the Acme caption for this kinetic tableau was “Who Said People Are All Alike?,” which Weegee, with his taste for the body blow, changed to “Their First Murder.” The killing that’s taken place is merely the big bang the faces, each a vivid record of the ripple effects of crime, become the real drama.

“I have no time for messages in my pictures. That’s for Western Union,” Weegee said, swiping Samuel Goldwyn’s line. But once in a while he made a photograph with clear political intent, such as the one of Joe McWilliams, a fascistic 1940 congressional candidate shown looking at, and like, a horse’s ass. There’s also the image of a black mother holding a small child behind the shattered glass of their front door, smashed by toughs who didn’t want them moving into Washington Heights. Most deliberately, Weegee made a series of car-wreck pictures at a spot on the Henry Hudson Parkway where the off-ramp badly needed some fencing he was proud that their publication helped get a barrier installed.

In a foreword to “Naked City,” William McCleery, a PM editor, detected a crusading impulse in Weegee’s picture of poor children escaping a New York heat wave: “You don’t want those kids to go on sleeping on that fire escape forever, do you?” Bonanos, too, thinks this photograph was made and received with indignation, but the image has always been more picturesque than disturbing. (Weegee almost certainly posed the children and told them to keep their eyes shut.) Still, Weegee often exhibited an immigrant’s pride—Bonanos calls him a “proud Jew”—that can be seen as broadly political. One looks at the pictures he made in Chinatown and Little Italy toward the end of the war, full of American flags and patriotic embraces, and senses his appreciation of the eclectic energies at play in the city, along with a feeling that the old tenement world was ready to take a fine leap toward something better.


Arthur Fellig (Weegee) - History

(b Zloczew, Austria [now Poland], 12 June 1899 d New York, 26 Dec 1968).

American photographer of Austrian birth. He emigrated to the USA in 1910 and took numerous odd jobs, including working as an itinerant photographer and as an assistant to a commercial photographer. In 1924 he was hired as a dark-room technician by Acme Newspictures (later United Press International Photos). He left, however, in 1935 to become a freelance photographer. He worked at night and competed with the police to be first at the scene of a crime, selling his photographs to tabloids and photographic agencies. It was at this time that he earned the name Weegee (appropriated from the Ouija board) for his uncanny ability to make such early appearances at scenes of violence and catastrophe.

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How Arthur Felig Became the Legendary Street Photographer Weegee

“I keep to myself, belong to no group,” Weegee once wrote, and it was true that he remained an odd-shaped peg that fit in few holes. Despite his eagerness to talk about taking pictures, he never joined the New York Press Photographers Association, as nearly all his colleagues did. Nonetheless, in the early 1940s, he did sidle his way into the fringes of one club, perhaps because it was so thoroughly devoted to the nuts and bolts and art and craft of photography.

The Workers Film and Photo League had gotten its start in New York around 1930, an outpost of a leftist photographers’ and filmmakers’ association in Berlin. In 1936, the American group split in two, and the half devoted to nonmoving pictures renamed itself the Photo League and rented a floor at 31 East 21st Street. There, one flight up from an upholstery shop, it became one of the very few places in the United States focusing on documentary photography—distinct from press photography because it was concerned with recording everyday life more than particular events—and especially documentary photography as art.

The Photo League’s main force was a big, intense fellow named Sid Grossman. He edited its journal, served as director, and coached and taught (and often harangued) younger photographers to make their pictures more honest and substantial. Serious photography was a small town at the time, and he got a lot of help from people who are now known as great talents of their generation: Berenice Abbott, Ralph Steiner, Walter Rosenblum, Aaron Siskind, W. Eugene Smith. The place also had its share of dilettantes and hangers-on, people who, as up-and-comer Arthur Leipzig later recalled, “just liked being there. Sometimes there’d be a speaker who’d come in and talk, and we enjoyed that. Other times there was a lot of garbage.”

When Weegee started dropping by the gallery on 21st Street, at first he would just sit in the back and listen to the other photographers talk. Given the extroverted stances some of them exhibited, there was plenty to hear. The group’s worldview was colored by the members’ politics, which were generally socialist leaning toward Communist. Many of the League’s members, such as Leipzig and Rosenblum, were the children of working-class or middle-class Jews from Brooklyn and the Lower East Side. Nearly all strived for their work to inspire social reforms, but instead of going to the Dust Bowl to send pictures back to Lewe, most of the men and women of the Photo League did it at home, among the first-generation Americans they knew.

Grossman made notable pictures of the labor movement. Others photographed streetscapes, tenement life, poor and working-class kids, and scenes from Jewish and Italian and African American ghettos. The League’s front room on 21st Street was a gallery where shows of this work could be hung and lectures delivered, with darkrooms built down the side, where the photographers could process their work. It was a contentious but congenial clubhouse for energetic people whose hands smelled like hypo.

Starting in mid-1941, Weegee became a dues-paying member of the Photo League, but he never quite became an insider. “He never was very close to them,” Wilcox later explained. “He was a loner—he knew them, they knew him, but he was different. They knew that he kept to himself.” Unlike most of the group, he was not (explicitly) devoted to social-justice commentary he was shooting to sell as well as to inform. The Photo League’s members tended to intellectualize their work. And even though his photographs consistently reflected many of the League’s activist ideals, he was (perhaps owing to his lack of formal education, perhaps to his streetwise cynicism) suspicious, even dismissive, of those who claimed they were doing something for the greater good.

“Messages?” he once told his friend Peter Martin. “I have no time for messages in my pictures. That’s for Western Union and the Salvation Army. I take a picture of a dozen sleeping slum kids curled up on a fire escape on a hot summer night. Maybe I like the crazy situation, or the way they look like a litter of new puppies crammed together like that, or maybe it just fits with a series of sleeping people I’m doing. But 12 out of 13 people looked at the picture and told me I’d really got a message in that one, and that it had social overtones.”

The Photo League became one of the very few places in the United States focusing on documentary photography.

The social aspect of the Photo League led to networking as well as flirtation, of course. In the spring of 1940, the talk of the New York press world was a new newspaper that was meant to overturn just about every conventional approach to the business. Ralph McAllister Ingersoll, the strong-willed and patrician editor who had helped launch Henry Luce’s Fortune en Lewe, had been thinking for a couple of decades about everything that was wrong with the press and how he might start anew.

He had, the previous year, taken an open-ended leave from his role as general manager of Time Inc. to get his idea going, and his connections had helped him raise a great deal of start-up capital. One of the biggest investors was Marshall Field III, the department store heir, and the rest of the list included a lot of household names: Wrigley, Whitney, Schuster, Gimbel. There was so much interest that Ingersoll said he ended up turning down a million dollars’ worth of investments, a move he would regret later.

Ingersoll saw an underserved readership: New Yorkers who wanted a leftist newspaper that was smart about international and domestic affairs (like the Tye) but that also embraced powerful photography (like the tabloids and Lewe and its competitor Kyk) and sharp, voicey writing, especially opinion writing (as in the Herald Tribune but from the opposite side of the aisle). The general idea was to do a tabloid for the highest common denominator rather than the lowest, and Ingersoll thought he could peel off “the most intelligent million of the three million who now read the Daaglikse nuus en die Daaglikse spieël. ” His prospectus, widely quoted and reprinted multiple times in the paper itself, put forth the memorable line “We are against people who push other people around, just for the fun of pushing, whether they flourish in this country or abroad.”

PM was to be a liberal but not radical paper, pro-Roosevelt, pro-union, pro-New Deal, and anti-anti-Semitic. From the beginning, it was loudly critical of fascism and especially the Nazis. It was supposed to be not just factually solid and journalistically sound but emotionally engaging. It was to be readable, more like a magazine than a newspaper, eschewing the clutter and chaos of most tabloids’ pages. It would have no ads, and to make up the difference, it would cost a nickel at the newsstand instead of the other papers’ two or three cents. Most of all, Ingersoll said, “Over half PM’s space will be filled with pictures—because PM will use pictures not simply to illustrate stories, but to tell them. Thus, the tabloids notwithstanding, PM is actually the first picture paper under the sun.”

PM did look like a genuinely promising paper, and Ingersoll was apparently deluged with employment applications from idealistic young reporters. Weegee, by contrast, didn’t chase a job instead, he said, he waited for them to come to him. The photo editor hired to help launch PM was William McCleery, who had worked at the AP and at Lewe, and thus was sure to have known Weegee’s work and growing reputation. And what McCleery and Ingersoll had to offer him was significant: instead of suppressing its contributors’ styles and credits in favor of an institutional voice, PM was going to go the opposite way and try to showcase the individual personality of everyone who worked there. Not only would photos carry their makers’ names there would be substantial captions that would sometimes make an attempt to show how the news had been gathered and made. If you did great stuff for PM, everyone would know youhad done it.

Weegee made a deal with PM that was mutually beneficial: he would bring them his work first, on no fixed schedule, and they’d put him on a retainer of $75 dollars per week. That was upper-middle-class money for a single man in 1940, nearly as much as he’d been making as a freelance. For the first time in his freelance life, Weegee would have a guaranteed steady income, and a good one at that. He would also be able to keep selling his work to Acme and the other syndication services and to any magazines that came calling. PM would merely get first crack at his take.

By PM, Weegee was, for the first time, top dog, one of two established talents on the team, the other being the already legendary Margaret Bourke-White. Brilliant and glamorous, and paid triple what Weegee was getting, she still didn’t last in the job. She was far too obsessive and perfectionistic an artist to deal with newspaper work. She’d be sent out to document some corner of Hell’s Kitchen or Brownsville, and would come back with hundreds of not-yet-processed negatives an hour before her press deadline. She washed out and went back to magazines within the year.

Once she left, Weegee became the ace of the photo department. It may have irritated his colleagues, but Weegee’s rough-edged garrulousness got him places. On one of his first days at the PM offices, possibly even before he signed on, he was cracking wise to a colleague about something he’d seen, and Ingersoll overheard him.

The editor recognized Weegee’s voice for what it was—funny, distinctive, New Yorky, exactly what he wanted in his paper. Indeed: the man had, even before PM was officially open for business, found his audience and his conduit to it. His photo-gearhead interests, his unique voice, his shticky sense of humor, his view of proletarian New York, his photographic ambitions, even (in the form of that pastrami sandwich) his Lower East Side Jewishness—all of it fit into PM’s editorial ethos.

The paper itself was a half success, its strengths and weaknesses alike bound up in Ingersoll’s arrogance toward his competitors. Readers had expected a transformative media experience from PM, and what they got instead was an inconsistent and often late-to-the-story but pretty good newspaper whose reach, editorial and otherwise, exceeded its grasp. (In just one of many gaffes, the circulation department accidentally lost the entire list of paid-up charter subscribers, and those readers never got their papers.) Yet although the writing and editing were uneven, Weegee, Haberman, Fisher, and their colleagues hit their targets a very high percentage of the time. Almost every edition contained at least a couple of great photographs.

The closest Weegee ever came to explicit activism was probably a set of photographs he made in July 1940. He (or perhaps an observant policeman or editor) had begun to notice a striking number of car crashes on the Henry Hudson Parkway, the elevated highway along the western edge of Manhattan, right by the 72nd Street on-ramp. Over the preceding year, he had collected a horrifying set of photographs of twisted cars, over and over, every one at the same spot.

In fifteen months, ten cars had crashed, four people had been killed, and nineteen had been hurt. This was classic outrage reporting, a small-bore version of what the radical investigative journalist I. F. Stone did, but instead of gleaning facts and figures from public records Weegee did it with a camera and patience. (He wasn’t always so patient. Weegee once delivered a similar story to the Post as well, and for that one, he had come up with 11 wreck photos on the streets, then padded out the total to a baker’s dozen by visiting an auto junkyard.)

This time, at least, it worked. The city undertook a traffic study, and a few months later guardrails went up and the curb was rebuilt. PM took credit for it, reproducing its page from the previous summer with a new photo of the reconstructed intersection. It was a small victory, but Weegee was proud of the result. “This work,” he later wrote proudly, “I consider my memorial.”

Van Flash: The Making of Weegee the Famous . Used with the permission of the publisher, Picador. Copyright © 2019 by Christopher Bonanos.


Arthur Fellig had a sharp eye for the unfairness of life. An Austrian immigrant who grew up on the gritty streets of New York City’s Lower East Side, Fellig became known as Weegee—a phonetic take on Ouija—for his preternatural ability to get the right photo. Often these were film-noirish images of crime, tragedy and the denizens of nocturnal New York. In 1943, Weegee turned his Speed Graphic camera’s blinding flash on the social and economic inequalities that lingered after the Great Depression. Not averse to orchestrating a shot, he dispatched his assistant, Louie Liotta, to a Bowery dive in search of an in­ebriated woman. He found a willing subject and took her to the Metropolitan Opera House for its Diamond Jubilee celebration. Then Liotta set her up near the entrance while Weegee watched for the arrival of Mrs. George Washington Kavanaugh and Lady Decies, two wealthy women who regularly graced society columns. When the tiara- and fur-bedecked socialites arrived for the opera, Weegee gave Liotta the signal to spring the drunk woman. “It was like an explosion,” Liotta recalled. “I thought I went blind from the three or four flash exposures.” With that flash, Weegee captured the stark juxtaposition of fabulous wealth and dire poverty, in a gotcha style that anticipated the commercial appeal of paparazzi decades later. The photo appeared in life under the headline “The Fashionable People,” and the piece let readers know how the women’s “entry was viewed with distaste by a spectator.” That The Critic was later revealed to have been staged did little to dampen its influence.

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Arthur Fellig (Weegee) - History

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Arthur “Weegee” Fellig, Photographer

Ascher “Arthur” Fellig was born on June 12, 1899 in Lemberg, Austria (later Zloczew, Poland, and now Ukraine). At the age of 10, his family moved to New York, and when he had his picture taken by a street photographer as a teen, he stumbled upon his future profession and lifelong profession. He quit school when he was 14 and became a freelancer for various New York publications and the Acme news agency. He developed an early reputation as an ‘ambulance chaser,’ and his innate ability to scoop his competitors apparently led to his nickname ‘Weegee,’ a colloquial reference to the Ouija board.

While freelancing, Mr. Fellig learned the challenges of news photography, having to prepare magnesium powder to produce a nighttime flash. No scene was too gruesome for his lens, and graphic crime scenes became his specialty. He began using the durable 4x5” Speed Graphic one-shot camera equipped with an automatic flash, two shutters, and three viewfinders. Mr. Fellig later observed, “If you are puzzled about the kind of camera to buy, get a Speed Graphic… it is a good camera and moreover, it is standard equipment for all press photographers… with a camera like that the cops will assume that you belong on the scene and will let you get beyond police lines.”

From 1935 to 1947, Mr. Fellig worked for several New York publications and news outlets, including the New York Post, the Herald Tribune, and Vogue. When ‘Weegee’ was on the scene of a crime or accident, his photographs in and of themselves generated memorable headlines. His fellow photographers struggled mightily to keep up his frantic pace, but none succeeded. He knew police officers by name, and they would give him valuable tips. He would also frequent tenement areas and interact with derelicts, incorporating the settings and their inhabitants into his photos. There was a grittiness associated with Mr. Fellig’s images that transported a local crime scene into a nationally reported event. If ‘Weegee’ was there, it was newsworthy.

By 1946, he was a lecturer at the New School for Social Research, and participated in curator Edward Steichen’s exhibition, “50 Photographs by 50 Photographers” at New York City’s Museum of Modern Art. In 1947, he moved to Hollywood, where his photographs chronicled celebrity nightlife. Mr. Fellig authored several books during this period, including Naked City (1945), Weegee’s People (1946), and Naked Hollywood (1947). Throughout the 1950s, his handmade lenses were manipulated to transform cultural icons into macabre distortions. Mr. Fellig’s unique photographic style lent itself well to film noir, and he served as a still photographer and technical consultant for a string of films.

Arthur Fellig, age 69, died of a brain tumor on December 26, 1968. His collections are currently housed within New York City’s Museum of Modern Art and the International Center of Photography, The Indianapolis Museum of Art, Los Angeles’s J. Paul Getty Museum and Museum of Contemporary Art San Francisco’s Museum of Modern Art, and Oxford’s Museum of Modern Art in Great Britain. A 1992 film, The Public Eye, starring Joe Pesci, was a fictionalized account of Mr. Fellig’s life and career.



Ref:
2004 Strange Days, Dangerous Nights: Photos from the Speed Graphic Era by Larry Millett (St. Paul, MN: Minnesota Historical Society Press), p. 5.

2018 Weegee (Arthur Fellig): The J. Paul Getty Museum (URL: http://www.getty.edu/art/collection/artists/1851/weegee-arthur-fellig-american-born-austria-1899-1968).

2018 Weegee (Arthur Fellig): Museum of Contemporary Photography (URL: http://www.mocp.org/detail.php?t=objects&type=browse&f=maker&s=Weegee+%28Arthur+Fellig%29&record=0).

2018 Weegee (URL: http://www.stevenkasher.com/artists/weegee).

2008 Weegee and Naked City by Anthony W. Lee, Richard Meyer (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press), pp. 16, 20.

2018 Weegee the Famous: The Master of Down-and-Dirty Street Photography (URL: https://www.nytimes.com/2018/06/01/books/review/flash-christopher-bonanos-weegee-biography.html).

Ref:
2004 Strange Days, Dangerous Nights: Photos from the Speed Graphic Era by Larry Millett (St. Paul, MN: Minnesota Historical Society Press), p. 5.

2018 Weegee (Arthur Fellig): The J. Paul Getty Museum (URL: http://www.getty.edu/art/collection/artists/1851/weegee-arthur-fellig-american-born-austria-1899-1968).

2018 Weegee (Arthur Fellig): Museum of Contemporary Photography (URL: http://www.mocp.org/detail.php?t=objects&type=browse&f=maker&s=Weegee+%28Arthur+Fellig%29&record=0).

2018 Weegee (URL: http://www.stevenkasher.com/artists/weegee).

2008 Weegee and Naked City by Anthony W. Lee, Richard Meyer (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press), pp. 16, 20.


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