Lee Miller @ Tate Britain

This is a quite amazing exhibition, a complete eye-opener not only regarding Lee Miller’s extraordinary range and ability as a photographer and her staggering achievement in so many different fields – but at the same time a portrait of an astonishingly blessed and yet, in parts, harrowing life.

This is the largest retrospective of Miller’s work ever staged and easily fills 11 decent-sized rooms. It features 230 vintage and modern prints, many (especially her wonderful Second World War shots) on show for the first time. You might think that’s a lot of items to take in but if anything it’s not enough. I could easily have lapped up more.

The show also includes a wide range of supporting material, including original copies of the many magazines her work appeared in, numerous copies of Vogue as well as wartime publications.

Quick overview

A quick overview would refer to Miller’s success as:

  • a fashion model
  • a muse and icon for avant-garde photographers
  • an actor in an avant-garde film
  • a core member of French surrealism
  • a collaborator with the great Man Ray
  • a travel photographer in the Middle East
  • a fashion photographer for Vogue in the 1930s and through the first years of the Second World War
  • a war photographer, at first in Britain among air crews and suchlike, before being early on the scene at the D-Day landings and at the liberation of Buchenwald and Dachau concentration camps
  • in post-war life hosting her artist friends at the country house in Sussex she shared with husband Roland Penrose
  • a late-blooming interest in cordon bleu cookery

In room after room, in one area after another, the visitor comes across amazing photos in a wide range of genres. It’s a staggering achievement and this is a thrilling, mind-boggling exhibition.

The exhibition

As I mentioned the exhibition is in 11 rooms. I’ll give a quick summary of each, with an indication of favourite photos.

Room 1. Fashion model

Miller was born in 1907 in Poughkeepsie, New York State. Her father was a keen amateur photographer and she posed frequently for him from early childhood. She began modelling professionally in New York City in 1926 (aged 18) while studying painting at the Art Students League. In March 1927, aged just 19, she appeared on the covers of British and American Vogue, drawn in pearls and furs against a glittering city skyline. She was photographed by celebrated figures like Cecil Beaton and Edward Steichen and room 1 is full of wonderfully atmospheric 1920s photo shoots.

Installation photo of Lee Miller at Tate Britain showing Miller in 1920s cloche hat and furs © Lee Miller Archives, England 2025. All rights reserved. Photo © Tate (Sonal Bakrania)

The photos bring out her height, her strikingly long neck, the rather big nose which gives her a slightly tomboy, androgynous look, which perfectly suited the 1920s era of slender flappers.

The experience of being a model inspired her to become a photographer herself, declaring she would ‘rather take a picture than be one.’ Not only that, but she wanted to be at the cutting edge of photography, which was Europe. So in 1929 she moved to Paris.

Room 2. Association with Man Ray

With extraordinary courage, ambition and chutzpah, Miller tracked down Paris’s leading avant-garde photographer, (the American) Man Ray and announced that she was to be his new student. ‘I told him boldly I was his new student. He said he didn’t take students and anyway he was leaving Paris for his holiday. I said, I know, I’m going with you – and I did.’

Impressed by her looks, confidence and evident ability, Man Ray took her not as a student but as an active collaborator, both a model for many of his most famous photos and a photographer in her own right, and then lover.

The famous photo of a woman’s bottom as she kneels forward, revealing her feet, that’s Miller, along with scores of other striking and iconic images.

This room explains how they jointly stumbled across the process of solarisation, the process where a negative or print is partially re-exposed to light during development, leading to a tone reversal effect where bright areas become dark and vice versa. You can see an example on the left in this photo.

Installation photo of Lee Miller at Tate Britain © Lee Miller Archives, England 2025. All rights reserved. Photo © Tate (Sonal Bakrania)

The Blood of a Poet

Very quickly Miller was established at the centre of Paris’s surrealism circle. In her role as model, she was invited by Jean Cocteau to star in his ground-breaking surrealist film, Le Sang d’un poète, 1930. In it she appears as a classical statue which comes to life. In a darkened room off to one side, you can watch a 3-minute excerpt.

Room 3. The surreal streets of Paris

By the early 1930s, Miller was fully embedded in Paris’s avant-garde circles, in particular befriending artists associated with surrealism, the movement that rebelled against convention and advocated an aesthetic of chance, randomness and the uncanny.

Having established her own studio, Miller took to photographing the City of Light and created a dazzling series of images. Using the avant-garde strategies of photographing everything from above, from an angle, incorporating disorientating reflections – she rendered everyday sights in the city mysterious and surreal.

My favourites were a pair of bird cages set against the ornate metalwork of a shop window. Or the really surreal one of a woman reaching her hand up and behind her to touch her hairdo in a hairdressers’ but which makes the hand look like an alien creature. Tate press give us this one to use, of a sheet of semi-congealed tar oozing across the pavement towards a pair of anonymous feet. All of them weird and wonderful and inspiring.

Untitled, Paris 1930 by Lee Miller. Lee Miller Archives © Lee Miller Archives, England 2025. All rights reserved. leemiller.co.uk

Returning to New York in 1932, she set up Lee Miller Studios Inc. and opened her first solo exhibition. In both the United States and Europe, Miller exhibited regularly alongside fellow pioneers of modern photography and her work was published in numerous artistic journals and magazines.

Room 4. Egypt and other destinations

By 1934 Miller had spent two years running a commercial studio in Depression-era New York and felt burnt out by the repetitive demands of high-profile clients and brands. In that year she met the Egyptian businessman and engineer Aziz Eloui Bey, who had come to New York City to buy equipment for the Egyptian National Railways, and they were married.

At first Miller renounced photography entirely. thanks to her rich husband she no longer needed to earn a living. But a trip to Jerusalem in 1935 reignited her creative spark, and she returned to the camera as a tool of experiment and exploration. Over the next four years, Miller made regular expeditions across remote Egyptian deserts, as well as through Syria, Palestine, Lebanon, Cyprus, Romania and Greece.

This room contains lots of stunning images from these trips, images of the desert, tracks in the sand, decrepit cars, a pile of sandals made from car tyres, the strange and disorientating architecture of the desert world.

Portrait of Space, Al Bulwayeb near Siwa 1937 by Lee Miller. Lee Miller Archives © Lee Miller Archives, England 2025. All rights reserved. leemiller.co.uk.

In Cairo Miller took a photograph of the desert near Siwa that Magritte saw and used as inspiration for his 1938 painting Le Baiser. Miller also contributed an object to the Surrealist Objects and Poems exhibition at the London Gallery in 1934. There’s a great one of bleached snail shells on an old tree.

The room also includes striking black-and-white images of peasants in Greece, Albania and the other ‘exotic’ countries she visited during this period. All of them are good, some are outstanding. I particularly liked the one with the three Albanian peasants and their two bears.

By 1937, Miller had grown bored with her life in Cairo. She returned to Paris and went to a party the day she arrived, where she reconciled with Man Ray, and met the British surrealist painter and curator Roland Penrose who she would marry in May 1947.

Room 5. Arty friends

Charismatic, creative and intelligent, Miller befriended many of the leading artists and intellectuals of her day and throughout her carer created striking, candid, intimate portraits of them.

‘It takes time to do a good portrait … [and] find out what idea of himself or herself he has in mind.’

There’s a set of entertaining ones of Charlie Chaplin, who claimed the shoot was one of the most entertaining days of his life, and best of which appeared in a popular French cinema magazine as well as in modernist photography exhibitions on both sides of the Atlantic.

With Picasso Miller had a long and fruitful relationship, taking over 1,000 photos of him during their lives.

Having returned to Paris in 1937, she took intimate portraits of the surrealists in the troubled period of the late-30s, many of them jolly snaps of larky group holidays. These include Eileen Agar, Max Ernst, Paul Eluard, Leonora Carrington and many more.

Room 6. Vogue and war

Miller moved back from Paris to London to join her lover, Roland Penrose, in September 1939, just as World War Two kicked off.

As a US citizen, Miller was ineligible for war work in the UK and so she offered her services to British Vogue. Before long, with more established figures tied up, she was the magazine’s leading photographer, and this room contains some of her wonderful, inspired photoshoots in wartime London, including shots of the editorial staff busking it after the offices were Blitzed.

Room 7. Photographing the Blitz and women’s war

From 7 September 1940 to 11 May 1941 London was blanket bombed by the Germans. Some 30,000 people were killed during the Blitz but Miller wasn’t the only one to notice the bizarre and surreal imagery produced by intensive bombing of urban landscapes. Placing pristine, beautifully dressed models in tailored outfits against the rubble created jarring but striking images. The Blitz was a whole new look.

Model Elizabeth Cowell wearing Digby Morton suit, London 1941 by Lee Miller. Lee Miller Archives © Lee Miller Archives, England 2025. All rights reserved. leemiller.co.uk

All aspects of wartime life inspired Miller, from a documentary news-style photo like:

To consciously surreal compositions like:

Fire Masks by Lee Miller (1941) Lee Miller Archives © Lee Miller Archives, England 2025. All rights reserved. leemiller.co.uk

And a great one of a melted typewriter, titled Remington Silent to jokily echo the Remington typewriter company’s advertising claim that their typewriters were very quiet. Well, this one’s never going to bother anyone again.

Her sense of humour was never far away.

David E. Scherman dressed for war, London 1942 by Lee Miller. Lee Miller Archives © Lee Miller Archives, England 2025. All rights reserved. leemiller.co.uk

Many of Miller’s Blitz photographs were published as a book, Grim Glory: Pictures of Britain Under Fire (1941). Although intended primarily for a US audience, it proved highly popular on both sides of the Atlantic, and there are several copies open to various pages here in a display case.

At least ten of her photographs were also included in ‘Britain at War’, an influential exhibition at the Museum of Modern Art in New York. Touring North and South America over the next three years, these works shaped international perceptions of the Blitz.

Women’s war

Several walls here hold photos describing women’s lives in war. British women, conscripted for the first time from 1941, poured into the workplace. Miller took inspiration photos of women working as mechanics, journalists and searchlight operators, a striking photo of a woman fighter pilot in her cockpit, her photos were a vital contributions to the war effort.

Room 8. In warzones

Once the USA had joined the war (Japan. Germany and Italy declared war on the United States on December 11, 1941) Miller was able to apply to become an accredited war correspondent with the US Army. This she did in late 1942. She continued to take photos of war work in Britain. it was only after the Normandy landings of June 1944, that she – like most correspondents – was able to follow the army into combat.

This room contains vivid photos of the Normandy beaches still littered with wreckage, and then a series depicting the claustrophobic lamplit environment of army field hospitals, and then photos of sometimes grossly injured soldiers in their makeshift beds.

Most of these stories were produced for Vogue with whom she’d kept all her contacts. She produced a regular supply of not only photos but reporting to accompany them. Up till now she hadn’t written much but she proved a natural journalist, producing vivid first-hand descriptions of what she saw as she followed the US Army in its fiercely contested progress across Europe.

Installation photo of Lee Miller at Tate Britain showing the case containing Miller’s war correspondent uniform and, at the left hip, her lightweight Rolleiflex camera (photo by the author)

She turned out to have the journalist’s fundamental skill, being in the right place at the right time. In France, Belgium, Luxembourg, Germany, Denmark, Austria, Hungary and Romania she produced a range of images: some, as mentioned, of field hospitals, others artillery exploding on nearby buildings. In many of them she drew on the surrealist aesthetic to bring out the absurdity as well as the stupid cruelty of war.

Room 9. The Holocaust

The war thread reaches a peak of horror in room 9. This displays the photos Miller took after entering Buchenwald concentration CAMP on 16 April 1945, soon after it had been liberated. Two weeks later, on 30 April, she visited Dachau, a concentration camp near Munich. Thirty-five years later I went to Dachau.

Most of these photos have never been seen before. They show piles of bones or prisoners so starved they were little more than skin and bones.

The trains pulling cattle wagons which used to be packed full of victims, now bestilled in the summer heat with just a few corpses lying around on the gravel. There’s a sequence showing Nazi camp guards who have been soundly thrashed. And one which really stuck in my mind, a discomfortingly idyllic one of a dead German camp guard floating in a ditch or canal – a kind of mid-twentieth century version of Millais’s Ophelia, which hangs not far away in Tate Britain.

Miller’s Rolleiflex camera had no zoom lens and so, in order to get the shots, she had to get very close to the subjects, to all those piles of corpses, to the starved inmates dying of disease in the barracks. Up close with the worst evil in history.

This is a devastating subject, Miller captured images with her usual skill and eye for detail, but the experience marked her for life.

Months later, she was among the first to reach Hitler’s weekend retreat at Berchtesgarten just as American GIs began to loot it. In images overflowing with historical irony, she and her war photographer comrade David E. Scherman photographed each other taking baths in Hitler’s own personal bath The sight of the enemy cavorting in the most private inner sanctum of the great Leader rammed home the message of total defeat. It also represented the par washing off the filth and grime of months living through the apocalypse which the deranged leader started. And, for Scherman who was Jewish, a particularly sweet and apposite revenge on the Antisemite-In-Chief.

Unbeknown to Miller and Scherman as they set up these shots, just a few hours later Hitler and Eva Braun would commit suicide in their bunker in Berlin and the war in Europe would soon be over.

Room 10. War’s aftermath

But the suffering wasn’t over, not for tens of millions of people, not by a long chalk. The war left unthinkable devastation all across Europe.

Miller continued photographing and reporting into 1946 and recorded how the euphoria of liberation gave way to disillusionment. Her images and writing show people facing mass displacement, starvation and disease. Much of this is covered in Keith Lowe’s harrowing history of the war’s aftermath:

She travelled in eastern Europe, capturing the poverty of really dirt-poor peasants. There’s an extraordinary photo of the public execution of László Bárdossy, the fascist ex-Prime Minister of Hungary, on 10 January 1946.

Throughout she maintained her eye for the surreal detail, the sur- in the real.

She went out of her way to photograph children, believing they represented the future everyone now had to build towards, but this quote shows her acrid realism:

‘I’m taking a lot of kid pictures, because they are the only ones for whom there is any hope … And also we might as well have a look at who we’re going to fight twenty years from now.’

Room 11. At home in Sussex

Happily married Finally it was over, Miller quit being a correspondent and returned to England. After she discovered she was pregnant by her long-time lover, the artist Roland Penrose, she divorced her Egyptian husband Bey and, on 3 May 1947, married Penrose. Their only son, Antony Penrose, was born on 9 September 1947.

Happy home In 1949 the couple bought Farley Farm House in Chiddingly, East Sussex. During the 1950s and 1960s Farley Farm became a popular resort for visiting artists such as Picasso, Man Ray, Oskar Kokoschka, Henry Moore, Eileen Agar, Jean Dubuffet, Dorothea Tanning, Max Ernst, Yves Tanguy, Humphrey Jennings and many more…

Cookery In the 1950s Miller drifted away from photography and became increasingly interested in cordon bleu cookery, developing her own eccentric and humorous recipes. But her mental health was problematic. What she’d seen so close-up during the war cast a shadow over the rest of her life.

In this final room are many of the photos she took of the artistic giants of the twentieth century who were also her friends, as well as a charming display case showing magazine features about her staid, domestic home life.

Installation photo of Lee Miller at Tate Britain showing a photospread in a 1973 edition of Home and Gardens featuring the interior of her Sussex home complete with some of her cooking (photo by the author)

Sometimes Miller claimed that her photographic archive had been destroyed. The true extent of her work was only discovered after her death in 1977. The roughly 60,000 negatives, prints, journals and ephemera uncovered in the family attic now form the basis of the Lee Miller Archives and this exhibition represents a dazzling opportunity to delve into those archives and savour their countless treasures.

Summary

What an amazing life! What a prodigious, multifaceted talent! And what a brilliant exhibition!

Promo video


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Feast For The Eyes: The Story Of Food In Photography @ the Photographers’ Gallery

Two types of art exhibition

There are, maybe, two types of exhibition – the ‘open’ and the ‘closed’. An example of a ‘closed’ exhibition is the massive William Blake show currently on at Tate Britain, which presents Blake’s work in chronological order, explaining his etchings and paintings and illustrations in a cumulative way, so that you really have to pay attention and read all the wall labels to understand what’s going on, and to be able to move forward.

In an ‘open’ exhibition, by contrast, there’s just a lot of stuff hung up on the walls and you can wander round and look at whatever takes your fancy, popping in and out, window shopping, snacking, returning to the same rooms later to have another go round. Maybe the curators have organised it a bit by themes, but it doesn’t matter too much whether you pay any attention to them – you are, in effect, free to stroll around and create your own route and draw your own conclusions.

Feast For The Eyes is very much an ‘open’ exhibition. It brings together over 140 works, from black-and-white silver gelatin prints and early experiments with colour processes, to contemporary works of all shapes and sizes and styles, all focusing on the yummylicious subject of food.

Phillip J. Stazzone is on WPA and enjoys his favourite food as he’s heard that the Army doesn’t go in very strong for serving spaghetti (1940) by Weegee © Weegee/International Center of Photography

The sociology of food

Feeding is a basic activity of all life forms. All of us have to take in nutrition – foodstuffs which can provide protein, calories, fats, essential acids, vitamins and so on.

And for as long as we have had records, food has held a richly varied symbolic and allegorical meaning for peoples and societies – from Eve eating the apple in Paradise through to Mom serving up all-American apple pie in a 1950s kitchen.

New Recipes for Good Eating, Crisco, Proctor and Gamble, Cincinnati. Photographer unknown

The growing, harvesting, preparation, cooking and consumption of food has been accompanied throughout human history and around the globe by all kinds of rituals and celebrations – as are new births, the annual celebration of birthdays, the activities surrounding mourning – all have come with their own traditions of foods and drinks.

Photography and food

So, what about photography and food? Well, as soon as photography was invented, the earliest pioneers – alongside portraits and pictures of landscapes and houses – experimented with taking photos of food. For the most part they arranged and posed foodstuffs in the layouts which had been developed by the painters of still lives.

Still Life with Fruit and Decanter by Roger Fenton c.1860

The exhibition includes some very early three-dimensional or stereographic images produced by the London Stereoscopic Company in the 1850s, two colour images side by side designed to be viewed through a special stereoscopic viewer to create an early 3-D experience.

In the 160 years since Fenton’s pioneering work, people have taken countless millions more photos of food of every possible types and shape, from every possible national cuisine, in every possible position and angle, taken in styles which range from early Victorian, through social realism and documentary styles (the poor in Victorian slums or 1930s Depression-era America).

The Faro Caudill Family Eating Dinner in Their Dugout, Pie Town, New Mexico, 1940. by Russell Lee. Courtesy The Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division

The exhibition includes experimental Modernism of Man Ray and the like, through to 1960s pop art which, Andy Warhol-style, presented po-faced photos of mass produced tins and cans as themselves worthy of interest and respect, like this great blank photo of a tin of spam by Ed Ruscha.

Spam (1961) by Ed Ruscha © Ed Ruscha. Courtesy the artist and Gagosian Gallery

Thus Feast for the Eyes sets out to give examples of pretty much every way food has been prepared, posed and consumed over the past 150 or so years – from a poptastic 1960s art film by Carolee Schneemann of an art happening where a bunch of scantily clad young men and women holding dead chickens rolled and cavorted over each other – to a feast arranged to take place on a long table straddling the USA-Mexico border.

There are collages and cutups, sexy images of rude food, sculpted food, architectural food, and so on. There’s everything from tiny old Victorian photos to huge new prints enabled by the latest digital technology by the likes of Cindy Sherman and Wolfgang Tillmans.

Untitled from the series Forbidden Pleasures by Jo Ann Callis (1994)

There is, of course, also a whole world of cookbooks to be explored – dating back as far as the famous Mrs Beeton, and illustrated from the late Victorian period onwards with all manner of photos.

A good chunk of the show features those very distinctive illustrations you used to see in 1950s and 1960s cookbooks, the kind I remember my mum having, where colour printing was going through a very distinctive phase which made everything look like it was under neon lighting, where every food known to man or woman seemed to be coloured either vivid pink or orange or yellow.

Some of the corny old 1950s and 60s cookbooks on show at Feast for the Eyes. Photo by the author

And all that’s before you even approach the huge volume of images created to fill the wide universe of advertising every conceivable foodstuff as well as cookery implement.

Classic black and white photography

Insofar as it has been a subject of photography right from the beginning, food offers a way of surfing through the history of photography seen via one topic. Thus the exhibition includes some extremely famous food-related photos – Robert Doisneau’s one of Picasso sitting at a table which cleverly replaces his fingers with baby baguettes, or the super-famous image by Henri Cartier-Bresson of two couples having a picnic by the river, the man in the foreground pouring himself a glass of red wine.

Picnic on the Banks of the Marne (1938) by Henri Cartier-Bresson

So there are works by Weegee, Irving Penn, Man Ray and Edward Steichen, classics of black and white photography.

Modern and weird

But there are also plenty of works by new and contemporary photographers, such as Imogen Cunningham, Roe Ethridge, Lorenzo Vitturi – creator of surreal images paying homage to Ridley Road Market in London’s East End – and Joseph Maida – the latter represented by a quartet of fancy food images from his series Things R Queer in which he mixes up food porn and Pop art humour, advertising glossiness and Japanese cuteness.

#jelly #jello #fruity #fruto #thingsarequeer (October 26, 2014) by Joseph Maida. Courte

Political photography

And food can be political in the most basic sense that some people have a lot while others have little or none – one of the basic causes of conflict around the world and throughout history. A striking political image in the show is by the French photographer JR, who took an aerial view of migrants having a picnic on a long bench set up across the US-Mexico border, the table covered with a table cloth printed with the eyes of a child migrant.

Migrants, Mayra, Picnic across the border, Tecate, Mexico-USA (2017) by JR

The curators’ three themes

The curators have themselves arranged the works under three headings – Still Life, Around the Table and Playing with Food, and their wall labels and explanations group works together into three rooms (which are colour coded, the walls painted a vivid yellow, red and blue respectively). They expand on the themes and discuss issues around the tradition of still lives, or the sociology of eating. They provide plenty of food for thought.

But we are free to ignore them if we prefer, and wander at will, letting ourselves be struck by vivid and arresting images as we come across them, such as this classic depiction of the reality of unvarnished life in modern England by the poet laureate of the mundane and everyday, Martin Parr.

New Brighton, England, 1983–85 by Martin Parr © Martin Parr/Magnum Photos

One of my favourite images was a 1977 still life by the American photographer Irving Penn. Penn had the bright idea of taking blocks of frozen food from his freezer – or more probably of creating blocks of frozen food in a freezer – then taking them out and arranging them as sculptures and photographing them. His photos capture the moment as the blocks of fruit and veg start to melt and the white frosting starts to give way to the true underlying colour of the various foodstuffs. Vivid, creative.

Frozen Food (With String Beans), New York, 1977 by Irving Penn

Photographers

The show includes works by:

  • Nobuyoshi Araki
  • Guy Bourdin
  • Imogen Cunningham
  • Roe Ethridge
  • Marion Faller and Hollis Frampton
  • Rotimi Fani Kayode
  • Roger Fenton
  • Peter Fischli and David Weiss
  • Nan Goldin
  • Daniel Gordon
  • Rinko Kawauchi
  • Russell Lee
  • Laura Letinsky
  • Vik Muniz
  • Nickolas Muray
  • Martin Parr
  • Irving Penn
  • Man Ray
  • Martha Rosler
  • Ed Ruscha
  • Cindy Sherman
  • Stephen Shore
  • Edward Steichen
  • Wolfgang Tillmans
  • Lorenzo Vitturi
  • Tim Walker
  • Andy Warhol
  • Weegee
  • Edward Weston
  • Hank Willis Thomas

and many others. It is a smörgåsbord of imagery, a tasty buffet of photos old and new, large and small, black and white or coloured, digital and analogue, posed or au naturel, a rich array which creates all kinds of memories, associations and sensations in the visitor (by the end I found I was feeling really peckish – one of the 1960s style photos of swirly vanilla and strawberry ice cream had really pushed my button).

It only costs £5 to visit the Photographers’ Gallery, and this is only one of three exhibitions currently on there. Pop along and feast your mince pies.

Curators

Feast for the Eyes – The Story of Food in Photography is organised by the Aperture Foundation, New York and curated by Susan Bright and Denise Wolff.


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The Radical Eye @ Tate Modern

In 1990 Sir Elton John went into rehab and completely dried out, abandoning all intoxicants and stimulants. He began to look for a new hobby or activity to focus his, now completely sober, energies on. He’d always liked fashion photographs and had himself been snapped by some of the most famous fashion and music photographers of the 1960s and 70s – but a chance encounter with a collector of older works opened his eyes to the dazzling world of classic Modernist photos from earlier in the twentieth century.

He bought some examples, read up on the subject, and soon he was hooked. Over the past 27 years, Elton has built up one of the greatest collections of modern photographs anywhere in the world, which stretches from the start of the twentieth century right up to the present day, including colour and digital photography.

Elton’s collection now exceeds 8,000 prints. He and the curator of what is now known as the Sir Elton John Photography Collection – Newell Harbin – and his photography consultant and first director of the collection – Jane Jackson – worked with Tate to select some 170 images for this show. They are all from the heyday of ‘Modernist’ photography, around 1920 to 1945.

The result is this wonderfully enjoyable and thought-provoking exhibition.

Themes

The exhibition is pure delight. It is divided into seven themed sections – portraits, bodies, experiments, objects, perspectives, abstractions, documents.

The sudden burst of creativity at the end of the Great War partly reflected the collapse of old traditional values in every sphere of life, but especially in art, which abandoned 19th century realism for an explosive diversity of new ways of seeing. It also reflected new technologies, such as the arrival of the Leica camera in 1927 which could contain a whole roll of film and so allowed a sequence of shots of the same object, thus allowing the taking of much more documentary or narrative photographs. At the same time many of the blurrings or odd effects created by photography which had been rejected by the Victorian forebears as aberrations from decorous realism now became actively sought after as striking visual experiments.

Above all, 20th century photography pioneered a revolution in seeing, an entirely new way of valuing the visual impact of all sorts of objects previously overlooked. If shot properly the stamens of a flower or a cluster of pots can look like objects from outer space. If made-up and shot crisply, the human face can have the other worldly clarity of a god.

Portraits

On the one hand improved cameras enabled portraits to be created with a dazzling crispness and focus; on the other, modern art had liberated artists to find new ways to crop, angle and compose the human face, bringing out the geometry of lines and shapes buried in it, or creating new and challenging moods.

There’s a wall devoted to a sequence the photographer Irving Penn made in his studio in 1948 when he stumbled across the idea of pushing two background flats together to make a very acute angle for the sitters to pose in. To his surprise, instead of feeling cramped and stressed, many of the sitters felt comfortable and secure and visibly relaxed.

Bodies

Unconventional composition and framing, experiments with lighting and focus are just some of the novel techniques used to show the human body in a completely new light, part machine, part god, part zoomorphic architecture.

  • Movement study by Rudolf Koppitz A shot like this demonstrates the way almost all the modernist affects are based on the notion of bringing out the geometric substructure in objects or people (although, as in Art Deco generally, background women here form a kind of curved geometry. The stylisation of their hair and eyes made me think of Sir Edward Burne-Jones’s willowy women – for example, The Golden Stairs (1880) – but the differences highlight the way the interest has shifted from feminine ‘delicacy’ in the Victorian image, to an entirely new aesthetic which emphasises lithe muscularity. The naked woman is sensual, yes – but like a panther!)
  • Nude by Edward Weston (1936) The tendency of the age, of the Art deco 1920s and 30s to seek out the geometric in the organic is particularly obvious in this stunning photo. 1) The female body is turned into an almost abstract shape. Compare and contrast Matisse’s blue nude cutouts from 20 years later. 2) As with so many of these images, the closer you look, the more you see, including the hair on her leg, the sharpness of the toenails, loose threads from the rug.

Experiments

shows various photographers playing with collage, distortion, montage, colouring some but not all of the image. The standout is probably:

Objects

Includes stunning still lifes, converting everyday objects into vibrantly sharp and vivid images.

Documents

A million miles away from the Hollywood glamour of Gloria Swanson, the New York stylishness of Duke Ellington or the fashion magazine styling of Norman Parkinson, is the section devoted to the socially conscious photos of the 1930s Depression in America. The most famous photographers form this era are:

  • Migrant mother (1936) by Dorothea Lange Super famous image of the 1930s Depression, but in the flesh it has much more immediacy than any reproduction can convey.
  • Floyd Burroughs by Walker Evans (1936) Ditto. Both Evans and Lange were employed by the Information Division of the Farm Security Administration which was set up in 1935 to combat rural poverty. The administrator, Roy Stryker, in a much-quoted phrase, aimed to ‘show America to Americans.’ A laudable aim but these images are now 80 years old, from the year when Nazi Germany reoccupied the Rhineland. Are they documentary resources, liberal propaganda, publicity stills, historical records, works of art? Apparently, some 200,000 photos were taking during the existence of the Administration: are they all works of art?
  • New York by Helen Levitt (1940) She took many snaps of street life in her native New York City.

Abstraction and perspective

I found some of the documentary photos a little sentimental and a little patronising. A bit uncomfortable about the image of a homeless, impoverished, desperate migrant mother being converted into an object to be owned by a multi-millionaire, displayed in London’s most popular tourist attraction, for a paying audience of well-heeled visitors, to swoon and feel sorry about.

I preferred the anonymous power of many of the abstractions, and especially the place where the human and the abstract meet – in photos of amazing works of architecture and engineering converted, by characteristically modernist perspective and the use of highly focused black-and-white, into works of stunning abstract beauty.

I grew up in a gas station amid the smell of petrol and tyres. I’ve always loved industrial art. I’ve always preferred the rainbow sheen of oil on dirty puddles to vases of flowers in nice front rooms.

The Ullberg was hanging next to a street scene by English photographer, Norman Parkinson.

This is good, but I much preferred the Ullberg. Although it has the components of a modernist photo, Parkinson’s shot lacks the precision and intensity. The puddles are a bit blurry. Fine. But compare and contrast with the super-clarity of the Ullberg, which is sharp enough to cut you, and also presents a far richer depth of information for the eye and mind.

Both reminded me that, at the wonderful 2011 Royal Academy exhibition of Hungarian photography I learned that to make a classic Modernist street photo you need to do just three things: it must be in black and white – take it from above – and have diagonals in it – lines of paving, tramlines, people marching, or just one person at an angle. Voila!

The curator commentary

The audioguide is worth buying as much for its occasional descent into art bollocks as for its information and insights. How the heart sinks when you see some photos depicting models with masks – you know the curator will be unable to resist talking about the usual antonyms of ‘appearance and reality’, ‘art and artifice’, ‘identity and anonymity’, and so on. Photos of the naked human body will trigger a torrent of verbiage about artists exploring ‘issues’ of sexuality. Worst of all, any female photographer will prompt the usual vapourings about ‘subverting’ gender stereotypes and the pain of being a pioneer in a male-dominated blah blah.

It’s not that these thoughts are particularly wrong, it’s just that they’re so bleeding obvious, and so thumpingly predictable. Almost every exhibition I’ve ever been to sooner or later reveals that the artist was ‘exploring issues of sexuality’ or ‘subverting gender stereotypes’.

It’s a constant source of wry humour that the very art critics and curators who are so keen to talk about art being ‘revolutionary’ and ‘radical’ and ‘subverting’, ‘transgressing’, ‘confronting’ and ‘interrogating’ this, that or the other social convention, are themselves so staggeringly limited in the way they think about art, so repetitive and predictable, are such tame conformists to the narrow and well-trodden themes of ‘radical theory’.

Elton John as critic

All of which highlights the biggest single revelation of the exhibition, which is: What an extraordinarily sensitive, insightful, thoughtful and articulate man Sir Elton John is! Every photo singled out for an audioguide commentary by the curators also features some words from Sir Elton – and Elton’s thoughts are consistently more informative, insightful and memorable than the scholarly version.

This, you can’t help feeling, is because they are born out of love. Elton’s deep and genuine passion for modern photography shows in everything he says about it. Sometimes it’s just putting into words an impression which was hovering in the viewer’s mind, such as when he points out that the more you look at Edward Weston’s White door the more pregnant with meaning it becomes, the more ominous and mysterious, the more you want to know what’s through the door. It could be the start of a novel or a movie.

For me his most insightful comment was how classic photographs bear looking at again and again and again, each time noticing something new. These works are hung all around his Atlanta apartment so that he passes by them all day long. And each time he looks and pays attention to one of his photographs, he sees something new in it.

I know this could also be said of painting, drawings, a lot of other forms – but, being here, you can see what he’s driving at because photography, almost by definition, contains more information than any other art form. In a photograph nothing is left blank: the entire visual field is capturing whatever was there in front of the camera. Even the white spaces are recording a reality which often, when you look closer, has something in it. Whereas the white space in a painting might just be white.

Having visited the enormous David Hockney exhibition last week led me naturally to compare these classic photos with the painter’s works.

For a start almost all Hockney’s paintings are ginormous, wall-size, whereas all the works here are small, most are the size of an A4 sheet of paper or smaller.

But to return to Elton’s point, whereas the closer you looked at many of, say, Hockney’s later paintings of the Yorkshire landscape, the less detail there is to see in these enormous broad-brush swathes of paint – here, in these small and exquisite classic photographs, the closer you look, the more there is to see.

Take Man Ray’s photo of an ostrich an egg. Seen at the distance of a few yards, it looks round and smooth with a nice reflected shine on the surface to give a sense of depth and curvature. But the closer you get, the more you can see the fine pores pitting the surface of the egg, which are brought out by the little patch of reflected light; until only a foot from the image, you realise the surface is completely pocked with holes, almost like a miniature moonscape. And then there’s the detail of the wooden surface it’s on: the closer you get, the more you can see the grain of the wood and the straightness of those lines plays off against the curvature of the egg. And so on.

A lot of this detail doesn’t really come over in any reproductions you see, even in the catalogue of the exhibition itself, which is printed on matt paper and nowhere nearly as attractive as the originals.

None of the reproductions are as grippingly dynamic as the real prints. Only in the flesh can you look closer and closer and closer and see more and more detail. Only in the flesh do you start to get really hooked and really start to see what Elton is on about.

Another example is Dorothea Lange’s famous image of the Migrant woman. It was only looking at the print really close up that I realised that she is holding an infant child whose white corpse-like face is almost hidden by the tree or vertical line on the right hand side of the photo. I thought I knew this image inside out, but seeing a print this close up made me realise I was wrong.

Lots of the photos are like this, revealing depths and then further depths.

This also makes sense of another of Elton’s comments – that photographs tell the truth, whereas paintings lie. There are all kind of political and aesthetic objections to that statement and yet, like everything else the man says, it is persuasive because it carries the conviction of his obvious love and care for these marvellous images.

After all, there is an extraordinary power and depth and truthfulness to these photos. Maybe it’s something to do with their brightly-lit clarity – and that this crisp clarity of image results in a greater density of information per square inch. There is just more going on in a good photo than in most paintings of a comparable size. Subconsciously the mind is registering a whole host of detail, the kind of extraneous detail which most painters consciously leave out, but which are often here to distract and illuminate and shed new perspective. I keep thinking about the woman’s toenails in Edward Weston’s fabulous nude. Or Duke Ellington’s shirt cuffs.

It’s the sheer amount of visual information which a camera captures which both explains why they really do repay repeated viewings, and why so many of them give the impression of flooding and gratifying the eye and the viewing mind.

What great photographs! What a great exhibition! What a great guy!

Glass Tears (Les Larmes) (1932) by Man Ray. Collection Elton John © Man Ray Trust/ADAGP, Paris and DACS, London 2016

Glass Tears (Les Larmes) (1932) by Man Ray. Collection Elton John © Man Ray Trust/ADAGP, Paris and DACS, London 2016


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