Leave it to Leonor #386

This week, I’m thinking about magazine making. My apologies ahead of time, this is going to be super nerdy. For the majority of my photo career, I’ve been working in magazine journalism. I’ve worked on outside projects, but generally, I’d say that 80% of what I’ve done has been about printed matter, and so much of that time has been spent at weekly magazines. That’s lots of magazine making!

I visited The Barnes Foundation in Philadelphia expressly to see the Alexey Brodovitch: Astonish Me exhibit. It was magazine nerd perfection. Brodovitch was was a graphic designer, instructor, illustrator, and photographer, but he was primarily known to me as the art director of Harper’s Bazaar from the 30’s - 50’s. I already knew about his legend reputation. What I learned is that he was also an absolute menace.

I’ll start with the positive. The image below is the type of magazine making that runs through my veins; staring down long lines of layouts as though you are puzzling together the launch sequence to a rocket headed into space; it informs how I think and ideate. It brings me so much joy. It’s how we looked at things at the Times, it’s how we made things at NYMAG. I do versions of this for every visual project I work on now. I LOVE IT.

Making my way through the exhibit, a clear picture began to emerge. Each quote and anecdote I read had me gasping, cackling, or both. This man was a piece of work. It’s the sort of behavior that simply does not/should not be accepted anymore.

One of the first hints. . .Richard Avedon said, after Brodovitch died: “He was a genius and he was difficult. . .I learned from his impatience, his arrogance, his dissatisfaction”

He and Lillian Bassman launched Junior Bazaar but according to Bassman, he was “territorial and reluctant to share the spotlight” and according to this he was going to quit if he wasn’t in charge, but she ultimately convinced him to work together. Such a fragile ego for someone who’d already achieved so much success.

Two things I read about that made my skin crawl and would make every photo editor I know cringe: flopping and cropping.

He flipped the well known photo “Woman at Coney Island” by Lisette Model to suit his magazine layout, an action that would get his head ripped off by at least three photo directors I know.

Henri Cartier-Bresson was quoted saying, “if you start cutting or cropping a good photograph, it means death to the geometrically correct interplay of proportions” to which Brodovitch said, good for you. . . and cropped his images (and everyone else’s, however he saw fit) Apparently, Cartier-Bresson allowed him - and only him - to do so.

He shamed Garry Winogrand about overshooting (honestly, in this case, he probably wasn’t wrong. Winogrand died with 2,500 rolls of undeveloped film!?!) Hans Namuth called him “ruthless” as a teacher. He told Irving Penn - IRVING PENN - “I have nothing to teach you, and I’d like you to leave my class” They wound up working together, briefly, and Penn ultimately went on to say, “All designers, all photographers, all art directors whether they know it or not, are students of Alexey Brodovitch”

So yeah. . .he was a genius but also basically terrible. Honestly, I know more than one person who would be described the same way.

Ultimately, did I race down to the gift shop to buy the catalogue (and one for Josef, obviously)? Yes, yes I did. Do I want to spend Zu’s college fund on a copy of Ballet? Perhaps. (I won’t) Am I going to make someone show me the copies of Portfolio they have? Absolutely. I hope the show comes to NYC, so I can go see it a dozen more times and drag all my magazine nerds with me. You’ve been warned, friends.

This week in reading. . .
Lone Women stuck the landing! It was so damn good. Now I am reading Land of Milk and Honey which is one of those books I absolutely should not have put off. I am about a third of the way through and I do not want to put it down.

​This week in listening. . .
Saw Lola Young and now am listening to her non-stop. She’s like if Kate Nash and Lily Allen had an angry, antsy little baby.