“When they said I was ahead of my times, I said, ‘No I’m not, I’m of my time, you are behind the times,”‘ Man Ray once said. And his times – from the 1920s until the mid-1970s – were electrifying if not, in the beginning at least, electrified. Man Ray, the quintessential American artist in Paris, lived in Montparnasse, mingling with the greatest names of the century from 1921 right up until the eve of World War II. Long before returning to America, Man Ray had not only made photography an accepted artistic medium, he had also defined modern fashion photography, made short films and captured in his lens the most noted artists, designers, patrons and dealers of an era. He had been Dada, Surreal and a fierce individualist. Even though he once said, “To be successful, art must be unsaleable,” he never seemed to have experienced it, except perhaps for the short while he was trying to make a living painting, just before light-sensitive paper became his canvas and the lens his brush. Remarkably, accidents seemed to play an important role in both Man Ray’s migration from painter to photographer and his photographic innovations. One notable example is the portrait of the Marquise Luisa Casati in which a blurred image gives her three eyes. Man Ray considered the mistake a throw-away. Casati loved the duality and circulated the prints throughout Paris, spurring Man Ray’s career as a society photographer. Intensely gifted, endlessly curious and working with thecompulsion that is creativity’s métier, Man Ray cleverly maneuveredcircumstance. In his hands, accidents of fate became career makersand social catapults. Darkroom mishaps quickly became tools forcreating art, as the show “Man Ray in the Age of Electricity” atthe Heckscher Museum of Art clearly demonstrates. The show – which runs through August 13 – features 50 rare images in which the incandescent bulb was introduced as a component in the notoriously lights-off environment of the darkroom. The results became the techniques known as “rayographs” and “solarization.” According to Dr Kenneth Wayne, curator, “This is the first show to combine rayographs and solarization. At the time Man Ray started working, electricity wasn’t a standard feature in Paris. He was lucky enough to find a room in the Hotel des Ecoles, one of the first fully electrified buildings. Up until then gas was the main utility.” Commenting on the very name Man Ray, Wayne said, “He was born Emmanuel Radnitsky and shortened it to Man Ray, like a light beam or ray of light. I think light had been of interest to him his entire life.” Indeed, his early paintings demonstrate a keen interest in the cast shadow. He seems to have viewed it as a legible outline that was also varied in form. “With rayographs,” Wayne explained, “Man Ray put objects on light-sensitive paper and turned the lights on and off really quickly. Solarization was created by turning the lights on during the development process.” There is, however, far more to the images on view at theHeckscher than technical acrobatics. The abstract rayographs andsensuous portraits in which solarization imbues mere mortals withthe glow of Olympians say as much about Paris in the 1920s and 1930as they do about art. The accident that gave birth to the rayographs occurred one night in 1922 while Man Ray was making contact prints for his day job as fashion photographer for the couturier Paul Poiret. A sheet of unexposed light-sensitive paper accidentally made its way into the developing tray. While the photographer waited for an image to come up, he slipped into the tray a funnel, tube and thermometer. Looking at the paper under electric light, Man Ray saw that the objects had burned in. Their images were ambiguous and refracted, white against a black background. Not only that, they appeared to be three-dimensional. In short, they had become art. Enthralled with the possibilities, he repeated the process throughout the night using whatever was handy, including his room key – which is how we know he had room 37. Embellishing his technique, the artist soon discovered that he did not have to dip objects into liquid developer. He could create art simply by placing items on dry paper and exposing them to the light. By the time dawn arrived, Man Ray had christened the process rayographs. The rayographs (or rayograms, as they are sometimes called) became overnight sensations. Tristan Tzara, champion of Dadaism, claimed them as prime examples of the movement. Poiret paid cash for two. Jean Cocteau wrote, “Your mysterious arrangements are superior to all the still lifes that seek to overcome the flat canvas and the prestigious mix of colors.” Vanity Fair touted the new technique with a rayograph titled “Composition of Objects Selected with Both Eyes Closed.” A decade later, a French electric company (La CampagnieParisiene de Distribution d’Électricité) commissioned Man Ray tocreate a portfolio of ten rayographs for promotional use. Man Raydesigned the packaging. Rayographs are by their very nature unique.The unique rayographs in “Electricité,” a limited edition portfolioof 400 (perhaps 450; reports vary) were duplicated in photogravure.Only a few editions survive today. One of them is on display at theHeckscher, a loan from Williams College Museum of Art. Eighty-four years after the invention of the rayograph, the prints are uncannily modern looking. One outstanding example – untitled, as are many – features a comb, straight razor, blade, needles and other forms. Another is composed of hand, scarf, brush and cotton. Wayne explained, “There seems to be no rhyme or reason to combining a can opener and a comb and a bullet and a razor, but by putting them together they become interesting. And that was what the Dadaists were about – they felt the world had gone mad [with World War I], so why pretend to be rational and logical and reasonable? Let’s celebrate chance and absurdity, they said.” And so they did for a while, pushing and pulling against the encroaching draw of surrealism. (The philosophic battles frequently ended up in fistfights. Man Ray was able to walk a fine line between the two because, armed with camera, he managed to stage an objective purchase on the outside of the circles, although he was fully accepted as being a member of both camps.) In 1923, however, Man Ray was called upon by Tzara to make a movie for what became Dada’s last stand – an evening of contemporary works, with music by Stravinsky, Milhaurd, Auric and Satie, a film by Man Ray, a poetry reading and an absurd play Tzara had penned. Man Ray reluctantly agreed to compile some unrelated scenes,products of his experimentation with a small automatic camera thatcould capture only a few seconds of motion. Tzara convinced him toadd rayographs to lengthen the film to at least three minutes ofnonsense. Called Return to Reason, it will be shown onSunday, June 6, at the Cinema Arts Center in Huntington, along withother Man Ray films, including Emak Bakia. The collaborationbetween the Cinema Arts Center and the Heckscher Museum of Artincludes a talk by Wayne before the film, brunch and a tour of “ManRay in the Age of Electricity.” Moving on, as time and technique will, the second focus of the show is on Man Ray’s solarization. In solarization, nothing changes in the way the photographer captures the image on film; the trick is in the developing. As with rayographs, solarization stemmed from a darkroom accident. Lee Miller, one of Man Ray’s assistants, quixotically took responsibility for causing the initial accident. Letting out a yell when something crawled across her foot in the darkroom, she panicked and turned on the lights. In the developing tank were a dozen nearly fully developed negatives of a nude against a black background. Thinking fast, Man Ray plunged the negatives into the hypo, and when he later examined the prints, he found that the light had exposed the black background. Man Ray considered the effect the studied application of a process Alfred Stieglitz had exhibited long before. However, he liked it enough to give it a name – solarization – and adopted it as his own. “We were very lucky to get loans from all the great museums,” Wayne commented. “We have solarized portraits, some nudes, two pictures of Kiki of Montparnasse, both stunning. One is from 1928, another a bit later. There’s a self-portrait. Two photos of Picasso. A great photo of Georges Braque. Juan Gris, the Cubist painter. Those are the more famous portraits.” The solarized images appear to fit neatly into the category of surrealism. As Wayne explained, “A good example is the photograph of Kiki sleeping.” (Many readers will know Kiki of Montparnasse as the nude whose back is touched up to resemble a violin in the famous work “Violon d’Ingres,” 1924.) “Basically, the solarizations are surreal in that the figures glow. You don’t get that documentary, straightforward photograph. The figures seem to be almost extraterrestrial or ultra- or superhuman. They sort of glow – which gives them that extra quality or edge. The same with ‘Calla Lilies,’ another photo in the show. You look at them and then you look some more because they keep glowing. There seems to be some special quality to them. That’s what makes them surreal.” Although Man Ray continued to employ the technique throughouthis long career, the most outstanding examples date to the 1930sand 1940s. Looking beyond the techniques of rayography and solarization, one glimpses the aura of the era. Man Ray was the first artist to sling a camera with a painterly eye. He was part of the avant-garde but flirted easily with the leisure class. He is responsible for the famous death portrait of Marcel Proust and the man who captured Gertrude Stein and Alice B. Toklas at home in front of the fire and the art. Marcel Duchamp was his closest friend and chess opponent. Picasso, Piccabia, Breton and so many others were indebted to him for seeing their personalities through the lens and exposing their personas on paper. He took one of the first pictures of Coco Chanel, just days after she introduced “the little black dress,” which his old employer, Poiret, called “undernourished.” Wherever Man Ray traveled creatively, he returned with photographic icons that demand attention. The vintage photographs at the Heckscher are on loan from MoMA, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Williams College Museum of Art, the Man Ray Trust and several private collectors and dealers. Because of the fragility of the images – they must be shown under light restrictions – the show will not travel. To Man Ray aficionados, this may be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to see the rayographs and solarizations together in one place. The Heckscher Museum of Art is at Two Prime Avenue. For information, 631-351-3250 or www.heckscher.org.
16 May 2006 / 0 Comment
Developing The Art Of Photography: ‘Man Ray In The Age Of Electricity’
Published: May 16, 2006
Reverse negative of “Juliet,” 1945. This silver gelatin print demonstrates the way in which solarization can be manipulated. Francis M. Naumann Fine Art.
The nude wrapped in electric current in this untitled work is a cleverly manipulated rayograph in which a human form echoes behind a seeming wave of electric current. From “Electricité,” 1931. Williams College Museum of Art collection.
Man Ray’s objects invite the viewer to look beyond the surface of things, as in this example, “Lingerie,” rayograph from “Electricité,” 1931. Williams College Museum of Art collection.
In “Natasha,” 1929, note the halo that separates the nude image from its background. It is a hallmark of solarization. Museum of Modern Art collection.
Man Ray, “Georges Braque,” 1930, solarized gelatin print. Man Ray first saw works of Braque at the New York Armory Show of 1913 and was impressed. Collection of Michael Senft.
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