860-880 North Lake Shore Drive-Chicago, Illinois, USA (architect Mies van der Rohe)

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Horseman SW612P + Rodenstock lenses

(detail Gandolfi Variant + 6x7 Linhof Rapid Rollex)

 

 

 

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900-910 North Lake Shore Drive - Chicago, Illinois, USA (architect Mies van der Rohe)

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Horseman SW612P + Rodenstock Lenses

 

 

 

Facing the beauty of Lake Michigan, The Esplanade Apartments on North Lake Shore Drive − not far from the famous Navy Pier − designed by architect Mies van der Rohe, probably enjoy the most beautiful situation of all his works.

These seminal and innovative buildings used unprecedented construction technologies, which became the standard used by Mies in all his future high-rise projects.

Completed in 1951, 860-880 Lake Shore Drive were the first towers in the world to exhibit the promise of glass-and-steel-frame construction, while the 900–910 towers, finished in 1955, were the first to totally accomplish the aluminum and glass curtain wall which became the hallmark of Mies’ oeuvre.

On the neighbourhood of The Esplanade Apartments is the John Hancock Building – which you can admire on the first photograph −, the Magnificent Mile portion of Michigan Avenue and Oak Street Beach. Also not far from here, you can go for a walk in Lincoln Park, which I also showed on a previous post about Mies' Commonwealth Promenade Apartments. 

I have used the Horseman SW612P, with Rodenstock lenses and a 6x9 roll film back, to produce these photographs on Kodak Ektachrome E100S film.

My son Jorge, assisted me on this rewarding task, in 1999. I think that we will never forget the days we have spent in Chicago.

 

 

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Mies van der Rohe - Seagram Building, New York

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I don’t remember that much about New York!

I recall crowds of multicolored people dressed up in multicolored cloths in front of multicolored snacks, I remember a flood of Yellow Cabs claxoning their way through the lights.

We stood and stared at The Flatiron, we gazed at The Empire State, we marveled at the magnificence of The Twin Towers…
If we were already impressed by the Chicagoan skyscrapers, then New York really blew our minds!

Maybe I forgot a lot about New York, but Mies’s Seagram Building!

I don’t remember that much being in New York!

I know of cheap motels before and cheap motels after, I know about driving all the way from Chicago, Baltimore, Pittsburgh, I know about heading all the way up to Montreal and Toronto - and Detroit, and Chicago again, and Houston, Washington D.C., and, and... New York again… “Bye, bye, so long! See you soon!”

I still feel the miles running on empty under my seat, I can’t forget beautiful Connecticut and astonishing Vermont, I can’t forget the immenseness of America…

We were on a diet of fast food, so don’t ask me about New York tables, we were on a diet of everything, so poor Jorge and me we had tomatoes and milk for lunch, we pretended not to see elegant people sitting on hip restaurants, we faked city slickers in search of the Midnight Cowboy…

We have seen the rich and we have seen the beggars!

Who cares if I have memories of New York?

We drove by Central Park and MoMa, we wandered up and down Broadway, we figured out how to get cheaply closed to the Statue of Liberty, we knew nothing about New York, there was nothing to know about New York, but cheap thrills!

I had never before seen a photographic shop where the films and equipment boxes travell by cable car to the customer, now I know I have seen it all, “Do you have a credit card? Yes? Allright, now we can talk!” (and I will be hopefully nice and kind to you, that’s me reading his mind…).

There were a whole lot of things that I had never seen before! There are a whole lot of things that I have never seen after!

New York, I am tired, let me take a rest. The journey ahead is a long one, we must be ready!

I mainly associate New York with the sounds of “The Heart of Saturday Night” by Tom Waits, though I suspect that we didn't meet there…

“Depot, depot, what am I doing here?
Depot, depot, what am I doing here?
I ain't coming, I ain't going
My confusion is showing
Outside the midnight wind is blowing Sixth Avenue
I'm gonna paint myself blue
At the depot”

All photographs made on Kodak Ektachrome film with a Horseman SW 612 Pro and Rodenstock lenses (Apo-Grandagon 35mm + Grandagon-N 75mm), except for the first view made with a Gandolfi Variant III and Schneider lens.



“(Looking For) The Heart of Saturday Night”

Well you gassed her up
Behind the wheel
With your arm around your sweet one
In your Oldsmobile
Barrelin' down the boulevard
You're looking for the heart of Saturday night

And you got paid on Friday
And your pockets are jinglin'
And you see the lights
You get all tinglin' cause you're cruisin' with a 6
And you're looking for the heart of Saturday night

Then you comb your hair
Shave your face
Tryin' to wipe out ev'ry trace
All the other days
In the week you know that this'll be the Saturday
You're reachin' your peak

Stoppin' on the red
You're goin' on the green
'Cause tonight'll be like nothin'
You've ever seen
And you're barrelin' down the boulevard
Lookin' for the heart of Saturday night

Tell me is the crack of the poolballs, neon buzzin?
Telephone's ringin'; it's your second cousin
Is it the barmaid that's smilin' from the corner of her eye?
Magic of the melancholy tear in your eye.

Makes it kind of quiver down in the core
'Cause you're dreamin' of them Saturdays that came before
And now you're stumblin'
You're stumblin' onto the heart of Saturday night

Well you gassed her up
And you're behind the wheel
With your arm around your sweet one
In your Oldsmobile
Barrellin' down the boulevard,
You're lookin' for the heart of Saturday night

Is the crack of the poolballs, neon buzzin?
Telephone's ringin'; it's your second cousin
And the barmaid is smilin' from the corner of her eye
Magic of the melancholy tear in your eye.

Makes it kind of special down in the core
And you're dreamin' of them Saturdays that came before
It's found you stumblin'
Stumblin' onto the heart of Saturday night
And you're stumblin'
Stumblin onto the heart of Saturday night

From the record “The Heart of Saturday Night” – Tom Waits (1974)



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Little big crimes, or plain anecdotes? The decision is up to you...(Part 1)

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Sometimes, more often than I could possibly wish, I feel rageful and frustrated about the way that some people mistreat me and my creative rights.

Respect and fairness are just meaningless words for some humans and institutions! They don't really give a damn!

So I decided that it was about time to entertain you with some deplorable professional experiences.
I was a little reluctant at first as I didn't want to bring "bad vibes" over here, but chance had it so, that yesterday I felt that the right moment had come...

Editorial Gustavo Gili, Barcelona 2001
(Tugendhat House, Brno, Czech Republic)

So, here I am bothering you again with more Mies van der Rohe.
In fact, if you remember a former post about some published books that bear my photographs, you will presumably remember the cover above.
If you could pick up the book, and start turning over the pages, you would be informed on page 3 about the following: "Texts by Yehuda E. Safran. Edited by Luiz Trigueiros and Paulo Martins Barata. Updated photos by Rui Morais de Sousa and Thorsten Hümpel".
You could also see that the book is 216 pages long and 29x29 cm large. It is well documented and well printed. You can get it in soft or hard cover. It is heavy and voluminous.
I am sure that the texts are well informed and well written, as Mr. Safran is not only a well regarded architectural and art critic, but he also is a Adjunct Associate Professor at Columbia University.

It is a high quality book, and is not cheap!

I tell you all this, so that you can better understand my point of view.

I guess that I have already mentioned before, on another post, that I drove 27.000Km (16.000 km in USA and Canada) to make the photographs that grace the pages of this worthy publication.
Maybe I also said that I spent six weeks in the USA and Canada, plus some more weeks on the road in Europe.
I think that I also told you that I bought the Horseman SW 612 and a couple of lenses (expensive lenses!) to better fullfill my duties on this assignment. Maybe I also told you that I even carried my 8x10 inches Gandolfi (also with 5x7 inches reducing back) to shoot in Germany and Spain.
(The Tugendhat House, on the picture above, was photographed with the Corfield WA 67, because I feared customs problems if I brought along too much photo gear).
I could go on and on...

Did I mention the days after days that I spent (with my kids Jorge and Luis, who helped in America and Europe respectively) eating McDonald's (or even worse...), because I was running out of money with all the extended travelling and unexpected burocratic costs? Photo fees and insurances?
Did I mention the nights that I slept in very cheap, and sometimes dirty, motels?
Or the nights that I slept in my van while travelling in Europe?
And so on, and so on...

Why did I do all that?

Because I accepted the assignment and I understood the importance of this book. And first of all because I have pride on my job!

Commonwealth Promenade Apartments, Chicago, USA.
(do you see any similarity with the photograph on the next book?)

Now, if you open the book on page 121, you can admire the photograph that I show above these lines. You also should already know it from a former post...

Why do I repeat it here? No, I don't have the intention of really bothering you... Please, read on!

The story gets a little complicated to explain. I will try...

The book by Gustavo Gili was not the original edition. The original (?) edition was by Editorial Blau, Lisbon 2000. That was the company that actually gave me the assignment.
The cover of that (portuguese/english) original edition shows the German Pavilion in Barcelona. Although I also photographed that work (as I said, also with the Gandolfi), the publisher decided to use a photograph by Thorsten Hümpel on the cover of that edition. So far, so good.

Now, the trouble really starts!

I only became aware of the Gustavo Gili (spanish/english) edition a couple of years later and absolutely by chance: GG sent me a fax asking permission to use the photograph on the cover of Mies' book on any other publication. I answered saying that I couldn't give permission because it was not my photograph...

How wrong I was! Their edition had my photograph on the cover, and I had never seen it or even know about it...
They apologized stating that they had thought that everything had been clear about my copyrights, and sent me two copies.

Yes, that's it! Who sold them MY rights? Who got the money from it?

Gingko Press, USA, 2000

You can order today the book shown above at Amazon.com.
Hardcover, 216 pages, new.
Publisher: Gingko Press (October 15, 2000).
Language: english.
Price: $340,52
Shipping weight: 4,1 pounds.

No, I am not advertising for Amazon.com! This is the drop over the glass that made me do this and the future similar posts.

Surfing the Internet for Mies' photographs, I had the surprise to find out that there is still a third edition for the american market (who knows, maybe even some more? What about Asia? Australia?).

One more edition that I was never informed about.
One more edition abroad that didn't bring me a single coin in copyrights!

So what do we have here?

Three reputable publishing companies (at least two of them internationally highly acclaimed), with three different editions (who knows how many copies each?) bringing them money and prestige.
On the other side we have a stupid-dumb-exploited photographer who only got badly paid once!

One more situation where I feel hurt and mishandled. One more situation where I didn't have a written contract, because after all we were "friends" and worked together for some years...

And friends only should need gentlemen's agreements... Or so I thought...

(As usual some information for the photo freaks: the Chicago image was shot with the Gandolfi Variant 4x5", using the Horseman 6x12 roll film back. If I remember correctly, the lens used was a Symmar-S 210mm from Schneider-Kreuznach. Film by Kodak: the then new VS emulsion.
The difference in color between the two images is simple to explain: the complete image was scanned by me on the Epson 4990; the book cover was scanned by someone else years ago, printed, etc. (I got it via Internet). It should not be hard to make it have a similar color in Photoshop...

By the way: I bet that the rest of the image covers the back of the book).

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Mies van der Rohe - Crown Hall, Illinois Institute of Technology, Chicago

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Built at the end of Mies' tenure at IIT, in the 1950s, Crown Hall houses the School of Architecture and City Planning, as well as the Institute of Design.
Without much doubt, it was Mies' most prized building on the entire campus.

A single, uninterrupted place (36,6x67m, with 5,5m height), Crown Hall was the largest interior space Mies had ever realized: one enormous, completely open, glass-enclosed room, which ceiling is suspendable from one exterior steel structure.
On Mies' own words, this easily adaptable place was "the clearest structure we have done, the best to express our philisophy".

If we compare these photographs with some older images made shortly after construction, I think it is interesting to observe what the patina of time has produced on this amazing structure; the creeping plants can't manage to hide the modernity and the genius of it's apparently simple design...

I made these photographs with a Horseman SW 612 Pro and a Gandolfi Variant 4x5 camera (MDF version, level III), using a Horseman 6x12 roll film back.
The lenses employed were either manufactured by Rodenstock or by Schneider.
The structure detail was shot on 6x7 with a Linhof Rapid Rollex roll film holder, used on the Gandolfi Variant.

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Mies van der Rohe - Farnsworth House, Plano, Illinois, USA.

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Decidi então relatar três horas alucinantes, mais exactamente três horas e um quarto. Aqui fica então a história de como fotografei um dos grandes ícones da arquitectura do séc. XX:

Ao fim de mais de quinze dias de estadia em Chicago, seguida de uma viagem a Nova Iorque e Canadá para fotografar outras obras do Mies, foi-me finalmente concedida autorização para fotografar a dita maravilha (é mesmo uma maravilha, não estou a ser irónico!). Lá fiquei todo eufórico, lá voltei `a cidade dos Blues, sem adivinhar que o pior estava para vir… Passo a explicar: antes de poder pôr um pé que fosse do meu tripé no soalho da referida maravilha, tinha que possuir um seguro no valor de um milhão (!) de dólares. Não fosse o diabo tece-las e eu fazer algum risquito no dito soalho, ou, pior, dar-me algum curto-circuito cerebral e passar-me dos carretos, quem sabe pegar fogo aquilo tudo, num gesto de raiva vingativa pelo tempo de espera e as inúmeras burocracias vencidas. Bem nada a fazer, há que ter o dito seguro, há que o pagar! “Americanices”, pensarão alguns de vós e pensei eu então. Mas não só o referido seguro custava um grandessíssimo balúrdio (desculpem o termo tão vernáculo, mas garanto-vos que na altura vieram-me palavras bem piores `a mente), como ninguém mo queria fazer! É que, embora com estadia legal, eu não tinha residência fixa nos EUA! Cheguei a andar por Chicago a correr as agências de seguros de porta em porta. Tanto fazia ir `as de luxo nos arranha-céus, como `as espeluncas de ruas menos recomendáveis. Que tivesse paciência, era uma pena, não havia nada a fazer… Estes os simpáticos, que outros me empurravam logo para o olho da rua. Valeu-me a calma do meu filho Jorge que me acompanhava e assistia, que lá me segurava os ânimos e me dava apoio moral. Já não sei bem como, mas acabou por aparecer uma alma caridosa, uma senhora muito simpática e com voz humana cujo nome já nem recordo (nunca a cheguei a ver, só falámos por telefone), que me safou da enrascada. Como? Muito simples: deu a morada de um fotógrafo de Chicago (que também nunca cheguei a conhecer) e lá me arranjou um seguro.

Lá amanheceu então o grande dia e lá seguimos para Plano, que é uma territa a cerca de oitenta quilómetros de Chicago. Uma daquelas que a gente vê nos filmes, uma main street e pouco mais. Pelo menos é essa a memória com que fiquei na altura. Como fizemos 16.000 km de carro nessa viagem pelos EUA e Canadá, posso já baralhar as coisas um pouco... (Por curiosidade: no total, Europa e América, fiz 27.000 km para fotografar as obras do Mies. Claro que não estou a incluir os que fiz de avião, apenas os de carro!). Mas Plano não é ainda Fox River, e não é fácil dar com a Farnsworth House. Bem protegida dos olhares curiosos, não se vê sequer da estrada.

Chegámos cedo. Eu, ingenuamente, a pensar que ia ter um dia de trabalho calmo e ponderado, a reflectir sobre as lindas imagens que ia produzir para deleite de futuros leitores, a pensar cá para os meus botões que o tema e a situação requeriam concentração redobrada. Afinal se temos o privilégio de fotografar tal obra-prima, temos também a responsabilidade e o dever de o fazer bem feito! Há que pensar bem antes de fazer o click! Ilusões…

Novas negociações: há que pagar um x para começar a fotografar. Outro balurdiozinho, outra “americanice” (uns meses antes, para estar a fotografar calmamente a Tugendhat Haus em Brno, durante várias horas, custou-me mais ou menos o que me pediam aqui por cada hora…). Mal sonhava eu que dos males, esse era o menor: é que me caiu literalmente a queixada quando fui informado que tinha no máximo três horas para concluir o trabalho. “Três horas? Mas ainda é de manhã cedo!...”. Fui então informado que a proprietária se encontrava na casa a passar férias com as crianças, que iam para a piscina, mas depois exigia o seu sossego e privacidade. Então e as três semanas de burocracias, as negociações, os telefonemas, os faxes, o seguro, os custos, as estadias, os nervos? “Eu pago mais horas!”.

” Não, e não, e não! Nada a fazer!”. E eu a olhar para os postais que tinham á venda por uns cêntimos a pensar cá para mim que cada hora que eu não podia fotografar equivalia a muitos, mas muitos, postais vendidos… Vá a gente percebe-los...

Então e as fotografias espectaculares que eu tinha para fazer? “Três horas? Eu nem sequer conheço o sítio. É a primeira vez que aqui venho!...”.

Reunião de urgência com o meu filho: “como nos desenrascamos desta? Não vamos sair daqui de mãos a abanar... Toca a reduzir o equipamento ao mínimo indispensável, o resto fica no carro. Esquece a mala da 9x12 e respectivas objectivas, esquece os filtros e o colormeter, o spotmeter também, esquece isto, deixa aquilo...” (Dos equipamentos de iluminação já tínhamos desistido em casa…). Ficámos reduzidos a uma Horseman 6x12 com uma única objectiva 75mm (equivalente a uma 24mm em pequeno formato; neste tipo de equipamentos não há objectivas zoom, as distâncias focais são fixas!), um fotómetro de luz incidente, um molho de rolos 120, o despolido para enquadrar com exactidão e a necessária lupa e pano preto (pressa sim, mas mais valem poucas imagens boas do que muitas que não prestam!), o cabo disparador e o tripé. E muita “fé em Deus, seja o que ele quiser”.

Para quem não sabe bem do que falo, permitam-me um resumido esclarecimento: falo de uma câmara fotográfica analógica que produz seis (!) fotogramas por rolo, sem qualquer tipo de automatismo, sem motor, sem fotómetro incorporado sequer! Obviamente instalada num tripé e de focagem manual, em que um diafragma aceitável de trabalho nunca é inferior a 16, melhor é mesmo 22! Nesta câmara eu instalo um vidro despolido (perdoem-me os entendidos se o termo não está correcto: eu aprendi a fotografar na Alemanha e chamo-lhe Mattscheibe…) no plano do filme, para controlar com exactidão a imagem no seu enquadramento, nitidez, quantidade de descentramento da objectiva necessário para manter a perspectiva correcta, etc. Isto depois de ter nivelado com todo o cuidado e precisão a máquina (sim, eu gosto de lhe chamar assim! E se querem saber mais, até lhes dou nomes próprios: esta em questão é a Horsy, outra é a Cory, outra a Hassy, etc. Cada maluco com a sua…). Como não há um sistema de prisma e espelho, é forçoso, pelas leis da óptica, que essa imagem seja vista de pés para o ar! Diafragmando para controlar a profundidade de campo, a imagem torna-se extremamente escura, especialmente em interiores. Mesmo em exteriores é quase impossível evitar o uso do tal paninho preto, ridículo: é que sem ele a imagem quase não se vê, perde contraste. Quando está tudo pronto, há que desmontar o referido vidrinho, fechar e armar o obturador, escolher a velocidade de obturação e o diafragma, instalar o carregador com filme, tirar o dark slide (a chapinha de metal que não deixa o rolo apanhar luz, não me levem a mal, mas não sei o termo português, lá onde aprendi diz-se schieber), e então sim, pegar no disparador e fazer o click. Se tudo tiver sido feito como deve ser, sem erros nem distracções, a imagem deverá estar óptima. Pelo menos se a luz for bonita… Mas não se assustem: é mais complicado de descrever do que fazer, especialmente quando já se tem muitos milhares de quilómetros e fotografias de rodagem…

Mas voltemos a Fox River. Lá começámos a fotografar para darmos com outros problemas: não estávamos autorizados a tocar em nada, não podíamos mudar o lugar das coisas. O encarregado que nos acompanhava, e que não nos largou um minuto, limitou-se a retirar algumas fotografias de natureza privada de cima de uma ou outra mesa (recordo-me de ver a princesa Diana numa delas, com o seu lindo sorriso). O que vale é que estava tudo bem arrumadinho, não é como em minha casa… E felicidade das felicidades, não tínhamos que limpar nada! (Mas essa das limpezas fica para outra vez…). O resto é simples: fui dando a volta á casa, escolhendo o que me pareceram os melhores ângulos e olhando apreensivamente para o relógio, a ver os minutos voarem, tentando desesperadamente não fazer nenhuma burricada (sim, também as faço!). Ah bem, tão simples também não foi. Já me esquecia do ar condicionado! Se ele trabalhava, as cortinas não paravam de mexer, o que não dava jeito nenhum tomando em conta as exposições longas de que necessitava. Se era desligado, ficavam as vidraças cheias de condensação. Que escolha o diabo! Vá lá que o encarregado se esforçou e lá ia ligando e desligando, enquanto os minutos teimavam em correr cada vez mais rápido (Resta-me o consolo de pensar que tal problema não devia ter a Dra. Edith Farnsworth sofrido: creio que nos tempos dela a casa ainda não tinha ar condicionado instalado. Coitada, deve ter cozido com aquele ar quente e húmido do rio…).

Quando chegámos ao fim das três horas estava relativamente satisfeito. Se tudo tivesse corrido bem (não se esqueçam que falamos de fotografia analógica, em diapositivo…), teria certamente imagens suficientes para descrever bem o interior da casa. Há sempre uma ou outra que se podia ter feito também, há sempre uma ou outra em que se optou mal, em vez de assim devia ter sido assado. Bolas, tem que se saber ser selectivo! “Está feito! Passemos aos exteriores!”. Ah, ingenuidade portuguesa, quanto nos custas? …

“Exteriores?”, perguntou o encarregado atónito. “Você agora vai mas é embora. Acabaram as três horas!”.

E eu, apesar do calor sufocante, a sentir o sangue gelar: “Mas isso não era só para os interiores, por causa da senhora???”.

Bem, não adianta descrever-vos a sensação de terror que nos subiu pela espinha acima, nem uma única imagem do exterior depois de tanta chatice? Argumento para aqui, argumento para ali, ele então, magnânimo e irrefutável, sentencia: “Ok, dou-lhe mais um quarto de hora para fazer os exteriores!!!”.

E assim foi! E o que há, está `a vista: são estas as doze fotografias que fiz da Farnsworth House em três horas e um quarto… (Há na realidade mais uma da cozinha, com a cortina fechada, que não me agrada tanto. Como tal, não conta…). Outras melhores existirão certamente, mas sei que não tenho de me envergonhar destas. Foram as melhores que consegui nas circunstâncias proporcionadas.

E como não deve haver história sem moral, aqui vos deixo esta pergunta para reflectirem: quanto na vossa opinião valem, ou deveriam valer, estas fotografias?

Arneiro dos Marinheiros, Agosto de 2007

English speaking people, who don't understand portuguese, please excuse me, but this time the text is in my mother language...

At first I thought about translating it, but I quickly realized that it would be a rather difficult task for me.

So I opted to show the original text, written originaly for a portuguese architectural magazine. It describes, informally, the difficulties I went through until I was allowed to photograph the Farnsworth House. And the difficulties I experienced by photographing it too.

"Three hours and a quarter!" is the title I have chosen for this text.

I will briefly explain: three hours was the time that I was allowed to photograph this icon of Modern Architecture.

At first I thought that limit would only refer for interior photography. It was already very short, but using only one camera and one lens, keeping things simple and "relaxed", I knew that I could manage it (and I did!).

So, when the three hours were over, I just asked if I could go outside to make the exterior shots, just to hear that I had to leave, as the three hours were meant to be the total time!

I had made an insurance in the value of one million dollars, stayed about three weeks in Chicago taking care of permissions, insurance and so on, and I was paying a lot of money for each hour I was shooting!!!

And I was photographing for a book with international distribution...

No, and no, they wouldn't allow me more time!

Then, after some discussion and argumenting, I was finally given a quarter of an hour extra for the exterior shots! Yes, you read right: fifteen minutes!

Somehow I managed to make the three images you see above and I had to leave.

While leaving, I was thinking about the postcards they were selling at the office for 60 cents...

All the photographs on this post were made using a Horseman SW 612 Pro, equiped with a Rodenstock Grandagon 75mm, on Ektachrome film. Lightmeter from Gossen. Tripod from Gitzo.

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