Ansel Adams

by Ansel Adams

  February 1, 1949

  Dear Mr. Adams:

  Your Portfolio has been a continuous source of satisfaction to our family and our friends. My own admiration for your combination of aesthetic and technical competence is complete. As a small indication of this I should like to send you a camera and associated equipment and film as a personal gift. Since I am always a little puzzled about where you are, will you let me know where it should be sent, or best of all, is there any chance that you might visit us and pick it up here?

  With kind regards, I am sincerely yours,

  Edwin Land

  Thus began my experimentation with the Polaroid camera and film, soon followed by an invitation to become a consultant, a professional association that has continued to today. I believe my services were helpful to Land in several ways. His aim was to produce the most perfect picture-making process, and he felt that I, an exacting photographer, could provide important feedback. Since I balanced creative ideals with a practical approach, were I pleased with his product, so too might other creative and professional photographers.

  January 10, 1950

  Dear Dr. Land,

  This is just a short report relating to the use of the Land Camera on a field trip with students from the Art Center School here in Los Angeles. I hasten to get it to you while the ideas are warm.

  I used the camera to very good advantage in demonstrating some practical sensitometry;

  We used the camera in demonstrating the limits of range of color film.

  We used the camera to demonstrate composition, arrangement, and relative scale.

  We used the camera to demonstrate various expressions and postures in making portraits.

  Significance:

  It is obvious to me that the value of the Land Camera in teaching various aspects of photography is extraordinary. This is the first chance I have had to use it in this regard.

  I suggest that your sales division further explore the use of the camera by photographic and art schools; I am sure there is a rather large potential market there.

  Negative Comments:

  These related to:

  Color of image. All students objected to the brown tone. They are taught to work for much colder values in regular work.

  Lack of stop and shutter speed indications. The students all made this objection, but were somewhat calmed down when I told them that the Land shutter numbers related to definite stop and speed values.

  Shutter speeds thought not adequate for sports and ordinary street action.

  Sincerely,

  Ansel Adams

  Land had at his command many people talented in the fields of physics, chemistry, and optics; in addition he brought people of imagination and aesthetic training into his research groups. One was the art historian Clarence Kennedy, a wiry little man with great intelligence and spirit. He had worked with Land on the development of the original polarizing plastic, a tremendous contribution to the science of optics and to the world at large, primarily as the famed Polaroid sunglasses whose lenses reduce or remove the glare from water, glass, and other reflecting surfaces.

  In the late 1930s, Land designed an 11×14-inch stereo camera for Kennedy with which he made photographs of classical and Renaissance sculpture that revealed not only his perception of the varied subjects but his extraordinary ability to record the glow of marble and the sheen of bronze in breathtakingly beautiful prints. His photographs of paintings produced images of super-realistic quality complete with a sense of depth of paint.

  When the great collection of Italian masterworks (including Botticelli’s Birth of Venus and some della Robbia terra-cottas) was sent to the 1940 Golden Gate Exposition in San Francisco, Kennedy was invited to direct their installation and lighting. I saw much of him, because the photography galleries that I was in charge of were in the same building, the Palace of Fine Arts.

  Kennedy’s experience at the exposition was harrowing. The huge packing cases containing the Italian masterpieces were picked up at the dock by heavily guarded trucks and, with a motorcycle escort, hauled to the exposition grounds. Before unloading commenced, however, the public relations department appeared with some bathing beauties who were draped on and about the cases for publicity pictures. Little did they realize the glories the cases contained. Kennedy was beside himself; we all agreed it was a rather inappropriate combination, but publicity, then and now, invites the ridiculous. I shall never forget the goose pimples on the girls, posing in enticing positions under a cold, foggy sky. While it was in pre-bikini days, there was still a lot of epidermis exposed to the elements.

  It was a mystery to everyone why the Italian government allowed the export of many of the greatest art treasures of the Western World. Kennedy, of course, was gravely concerned about their safety. It was promised that the temperature and humidity controls would be installed and working before the exhibit arrived. They were not! An anxious Kennedy spent a worrisome night on an army cot in the galleries, surrounded by what he says must have been the sound of the frames cracking in their crates. But the tardy equipment finally arrived, was properly ensconced and working the next day, and the exhibition opened to incredible success.

  Edwin Land was able to assemble such diverse and brilliant working groups that included the oddities Clarence Kennedy, an art historian, and Ansel Adams, a practicing photographer. He nurtured participation and praised any breakthrough his groups might accomplish. This attitude stimulated all who worked with him.

  As a Polaroid consultant, I was primarily involved with the qualities and performance of materials in reference to my professional and creative approach. The Polaroid Land process is of great technical complexity, and the delicate variations and balances of the physical qualities were kept meaningful and clear by a high order of technical and aesthetic direction.

  It is unfortunate that most photographic manufacturers know or care little about creative photography. They have a vast knowledge of advertising and sales, some of engineering, optics, physics, or chemistry, but none of aesthetics. Everything must relate to the marketplace; if sales are not adequate, the corporation will find it difficult to continue, certainly unable to spend funds on exotic indulgences such as fine printing papers. This is true from a simplistic, economic viewpoint, but Land believed that if the manufacturer includes objectives of highest quality in the social and aesthetic sense, all of his products should benefit. I learned very important lessons in this regard; I became more resolute to the challenges of quality, yet more understanding of the realities of the marketplace.

  Land was not an easy boss. He had tremendous energy, often arriving at his laboratory by eight A.M., returning home sometimes by seven P.M., though often after midnight; he expected his group to do likewise. They thought nothing of a weekend call to come to the laboratory and help him complete a task. I recall one time Land and I were working late on a project; at midnight I was bushed and could no longer think straight. I was staying with the Lands, so leaving was difficult, but I did. Land did not leave until three in the morning, tired but satisfied that the experiment had been finally and favorably completed. I think he was a bit disappointed in me for not sticking it out, but I was so sleepy I might have done more harm than good.

  Underlying his monumental scientific achievements, Din Land’s prime objective relates to communication between people. He is convinced that images can be as effective as words and that every person has a latent ability to make effective contact with another through visual statements. He felt that with the Polaroid process, “Everyone can be an artist.” I had a friendly disagreement with him about the definition of artist, but I knew what he intended by that statement—that everyone can become visually expressive and a fresh order of communication could assert itself. I do think that visual sensitivity and expression can be developed to a high degree of subtlety and accuracy. I have dreamed of an experiment in which a group of men and women would be isolated for several months under strict prohibition of using the spoken word. Th
ey would communicate only by “instant” images.

  Land is especially concerned with the potential of young children to observe and capture the unfolding wonders of the world around them. He is critical of conventional educational methods and systems, trusting in the basic abilities of the mind to create a better world before the suffocating intrusion of irrelevant facts and ideas saturates the potential intellect, curiosity, and receptivity of youth.

  Din, Terre, and their two daughters grew to become close personal friends of ours. My first excited letter on an important event was written to the Lands on April 10, 1959.

  Dear Din and Terre,

  I want you to be among the first to know that I have been awarded my third Guggenheim Fellowship!

  This relates to the summation of my work; the making of definitive prints—mostly of negatives heretofore not adequately printed. This is very important to me, as the body of my work has never been adequately printed or presented. I have always been too busy doing professional work to find the time to make really fine prints. It has been a constant cause of concern, as some of my best work has never been on paper!

  The grant is not large financially—$3,000 a year for two years—but it will make possible my rejection of some dismal bread and butter assignments which I have to do in the portion of time not devoted to Polaroid projects. Another grant through the Sierra Club is making possible Portfolio III (Yosemite Valley), and the returns from the sale of this portfolio will accrue to the Club and permit the printing of more images of the Natural Scene.

  If all goes well I will find myself completely occupied with creative work and that will be good. Anyway, I wanted to keep you advised of the Beard’s progress.

  Lots of love from us all—as ever,

  Ansel

  I was very surprised to find a very thoughtful friend in this man whose genius often isolated him from others. I took our daughter Anne east with me on one winter trip and on our final day in Cambridge we were at a party at the Lands’. It was a happy affair, with many people of varied interests. The social exchanges bristled with ideas and serious, but never stuffy, conversation. We were to take the night train to New York at about ten P.M. and Anne became very sleepy so I thought it best to leave for the train. As Land bundled us into our taxi, he gave directions to the driver and his taxi charge number and off we went through an incredibly heavy and dangerous Atlantic snowstorm.

  As we were walking into the station I heard a voice behind me, “Carry your bag, mister?” I was counting my pennies so I declined. The voice persisted, “Glad to carry your bag, mister.”

  I looked around and there was Din. Bewildered, I asked, “What in the world are you doing out here in this blizzard?”

  “Just wanted to be sure you and Anne made it safely. Have a good trip.” As our taxi left his home, Din had gotten his car out of the garage and followed us, through a heavy storm, to the station.

  I saw that Anne was secure in the Pullman lower berth and I climbed into the upper. We were asleep about an hour before the scheduled departure. I cannot remember a more restful night in a Pullman. When I awoke, the train was still; I poked my head out of the curtains and asked the passing porter, “Are we in Grand Central?”

  He sharply replied, “Goodness no, we are still in Boston!”

  On pulling out of Boston an icy switch derailed the engine, and we were stuck there until nine A.M. We arrived in New York late in the afternoon, with snow and ice to excess everywhere. I telephoned the Lands to tell them we were safe, and Land remarked, “If I had known it was going to be like that, I would have gone with you!”

  The San Francisco earthquake of 1957 was severely exaggerated in the news reports that reached Cambridge. Land phoned and asked, with real concern in his voice, “Are you all right?”

  I replied, “All okay, a little damage to the house, no fire.”

  He rejoined, “Did the quake bend your nose back in shape?” How he had remembered the story told to him years before of the small disaster about Adams and his nose from the 1906 earthquake was beyond me. I treasured this thoughtfulness.

  It is little known that Din Land is a benign prankster, performing unexpected little turns of fun, seasoned with witty remarks. Years ago, I arrived at the Land home for an early Sunday supper. I saw a most unpleasant-looking man slouching at the entrance, with coarse features and a large cigar in his mouth. He glared at me as I approached, and I thought, “The Boston Mafia!” Then Did said, “Hello,” and took off the mask and cigar. I am sure he noted my first expression of alarm, followed by one of great relief, and ending with a thorough enjoyment of his visual joke.

  Once Din and I went to Dr. Harold Edgerton’s laboratory at Massachusetts Institute of Technology to observe the making of a strobe flash picture of a bullet piercing a balloon, recorded on a new Polaroid transparency material. The extremely short electronic flash was fired by microphone. We stood around, expectantly waiting for the firing, fully briefed on what was to occur and how safe it was. The revolver was securely lashed to a firm support, and there was an efficient sand trap to catch the bullet. The balloon was filled with talcum powder, inflated, and properly placed in the line of fire. The camera was focused upon it, all ready to go. At the moment of firing, one of Edgerton’s assistants struck a large segment of rail with a heavy metal mallet. The sound was terrific, and all but Edgerton and Land hit the floor. Great hilarity ensued. The photograph came out perfectly, with the bullet clearly emerging in a cloud of talcum from the still-tense surface of the balloon; at the moment of exposure the balloon had not had time to think about collapsing.

  In the early days of Polaroid, I found that the majority of professional and creative photographers dismissed the process as a gimmick. I was considered by my colleagues a bit eccentric because of my enthusiasm and championing of what they considered a beguiling toy. Aware of the resistance by professional photographers to the available roll-film product, I urged development of a 4×5-inch film-pack system. I helped put the research and development into motion, but I wish to make it clear that I did not invent the Polaroid film-pack. To function in the new and larger format, the Polaroid process had to be adjusted, which involved sophisticated technology and design. I received the prototype materials and immediately began to experiment with them and to render reports. Most of the results of my work were communicated through correspondence as I continued to test products in Yosemite, San Francisco, and Carmel. To date, my files hold over three thousand memos to Polaroid, some of them up to eight pages long.

  The 4×5-inch film-pack adapter, containing the processing rollers, dependable pack insertion and withdrawal mechanisms, and well-engineered design, appeared in 1958. Sophisticated improvements have evolved packs of eight films each in both 3¼×4¼/4-inch and 4×5-inch sizes, using both positive print and positive-negative (P/N) materials as well as Polacolor film.

  I believed the best way to win converts to Polaroid was to provide my fellow professionals with boxes of the film to experiment with. I had some sent courtesy of the company to Imogen Cunningham and received this letter in reply:

  February 10th, 1964

  Dear Ansel,

  Herewith I am giving you notice that I am practically dropping dead from overexposure to POLAROID. Quite a number of people have seen my tries and quite a few people like them, so I have decided that I will make you a visit with a pocket full of them. I have used mostly 52 but seem to do as well on 57. I have done very few 55 P/N because I have only one box. I found out that what you said about the negative and the positive is true but I did do one from which both were useable—that is by printing from the negative on Varigam and using a No. 10 filter. Anyway it is a challenge and I would like to work more on this. I find it so fascinating with people that I run myself ragged and make a shot or two of everyone who comes within my gate. I confess that I cannot run around with a 4x5 camera and keep wondering if the new little camera gives one more flexibility. I went to the Polaroid demonstration at the St. Francis but t
he gal who showed this camera off was so besieged by young men who wanted her to photograph them, that I didn’t get beyond the edge of the crowd. Besides they had a set up. Bound to come out all right if you have a measured strobe.

  Affectionately,

  Imogen

  Many of my most successful photographs from the 1950s onward have been made on Polaroid film. A favorite image is El Capitan, Winter, Sunrise, made in 1968 with Polaroid Type 55 P/N material. The greatest glory of Yosemite is witnessed during the dawn following a snowstorm. On this snowy morning, I urgently searched the valley for a photograph, for soon after sunrise the trees and valley walls lose their white frosting of snow in the growing warmth of the day. I found El Capitan, the largest single piece of granite in the world, heroically revealed as the clouds and mist flowed about its huge form in wreaths and ribbons. One look at the tonal quality of the print I achieved should convince the uninitiated of the truly superior quality of Polaroid film.

  My association with Land provided me access to some of the many theories he has developed. His retinex theory has been of immense importance to me. In this theory he states that the level of the environmental light modifies the appearance of anything seen under it. Black and white photographic prints average twenty percent reflectance; that is, they reflect twenty percent, plus or minus, of the light falling upon them. Placing such prints on light walls merely serves to lower them in value. Land suggests that we reduce the reflectance of the walls to approximately twenty percent in any of a wide range of colors to maintain the proper print values. With these deeper hues the photographs come alive on the wall, and with the addition of light the print’s values are emotionally enhanced. It is an interesting fact that color images, both paintings and photographs, are not so obviously affected by environmental reflective conditions.