ON EXHIBIT"Karsh 100: A Biography in Images"

By DEBBIE FORMAN

dforman@capecodonline.com

October 18, 2008

BOSTON — Looking at the photograph, you can almost hear Bogey saying, "Here's looking at you, kid."

With a jaunty ponytail, Audrey Hepburn is as charming as a wistful ingénue.

ON EXHIBIT
"Karsh 100: A Biography in Images"

When: through Jan. 19

Where: Museum of Fine Arts, 465 Huntington Ave., Boston

Admission: $17; $15 for seniors and students 18 and older; free for members and children 17 and under

Information: 617-267-9300 or www.mfa.org

A bearded Ernest Hemingway, wearing a turtleneck sweater, looks the rugged fisherman, recalling "The Old Man and the Sea."

George Bernard Shaw, with a glint in his eye and a suggestion of a smile, challenges you to pick up on his irony, just he does in his plays.

And Winston Churchill looks defiant, ready to fight a war to victory.



It is this picture of Churchill — one you will recognize immediately — that thrust Yousuf Karsh into the limelight and gave him entrée to photograph many of the great men and women of the 20th century. If you want to see some famous faces, beautifully lit and intelligently captured, you should take a turn through "Karsh 100: A Biography in Images," an exhibit of this master's works at the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston.

Karsh made his way from humble beginnings, born in Mardin, Armenia-in-Turkey, in 1908. His Armenian family suffered under Turkish atrocities until 1922, when they fled to Syria. At the age of 17, Karsh was sent by his parents to Canada to live with an uncle, photographer George Nakash. The young Karsh showed early promise, and in 1928 his uncle sent him to Boston to apprentice with John Garo, a well-known photographer. This was Karsh's introduction to Boston, and in the last decade of his life, after he closed his studio in Ottawa, Canada, he returned to that city to live, and he died there in 2002.

After learning about natural-light photography from Garo, Karsh moved to Ottawa in 1932 and opened his own studio. He learned about the use of artificial light through his work with the Ottawa Little Theatre, and you can see how much this influenced his portrait work by the dramatic play of light and shadow in these early photos. In the 1930s, he obtained some government commissions, including photographing Franklin Roosevelt in 1936 when the U.S. president visited Canada.

But it was the 1941 photo of Churchill that put him on the road to capturing on film many of the world's leaders, scientists, industrialists, royalty, Nobel laureates, artists, writers, musicians and actors. As the story goes, Karsh was given the opportunity to take a picture of Churchill when the prime minister was visiting Canada to address Parliament a few weeks after the Japanese bombing of Pearl Harbor. After his speech, the impatient British prime minister was surprised to find the photographer waiting for him with his camera and lights ready to go. According to Karsh, Churchill had not been told about the photo, and he was not happy. He lit a cigar and refused to put it down. Karsh had to remove it from his mouth before he took the photo. Churchill must have been taken aback; in the photo he is scowling, even menacing, as he seems to be contemplating the tremendous job ahead in the war against the Nazis.



Jerry Fiedler, who has archived Karsh's work, writes in the book "Karsh: A Biography in Images" that by 1992, when he closed his studio, Karsh "had photographed every Canadian prime minister since Mackenzie King, every French president since Charles de Gaulle, every British prime minister since Winston Churchill and every U.S. president since Herbert Hoover."

Karsh writes in the book that what was fascinating to him about those he photographed was their "inward power." He goes on: "It is part of the elusive secret that hides in everyone, and it has been my life's work to try to capture it on film. The mask we present to others and, too often, to ourselves may lift for only a second — to reveal that power in an unconscious gesture, a raised eyebrow, a surprised response, a moment of repose. This is the moment to record."

There are many moments, actually more than 15,000. And you can see about 50 of them in the Boston exhibition.

In a 1954 photo, Pablo Picasso looks unimpressed from behind one of his large pieces of pottery with a nude female figure etched on it. We know how often Picasso enjoyed including erotic figures in his work, so the association is amusing.

Karsh often photographed artists and writers with their work. Behind Alexander Calder is one of his mobiles. Alberto Giacometti is shown among three of his sculptures. Tennessee Williams is at his typewriter smoking and looking up, seemingly for a next line. In 1954, he showed Pablo Casals from the back, sitting on a chair playing his cello. Karsh writes in his biography, "I have never photographed anyone, before or since, with his back turned to the camera, but it seemed to me just right. For me, the bare room conveys the loneliness of the artist. ..."



His 1972 portrait of W.H. Auden was shot in a garden. The poet's face is defined by deep lines and a shaded look. H.G. Wells is pictured in profile, his chin raised in a haughty expression.

Many of Karsh's photos are close-ups of the faces, where you can see how he focuses on that momentary stare, smile or ponderous expression. Wrapped in fur, Nikita Khrushchev wears a sinister grin. Looking down with his eyes closed, Albert Schweitzer seems to be troubled by the state of the world. Albert Einstein looks like a gentle, wise old grandfather.

In 1981, Karsh photographed Sophia Loren in color. This is the only color image in the exhibit. Although Karsh did many in color, he preferred working in black-and-white. Loren is wearing a wide-brimmed red hat, her marvelous cheekbones accented by a broad smile.

Not surprisingly, Anita Ekberg looks seductive. Leaning forward in a strapless dress, her eyes are closed in a kind of swoon. Several strands of hair have strayed across the bridge of her nose.



Anna Magnani looks forlorn. Peter Lorre is draped in shadow. Boris Karloff, his hands clasped across his forehead, doesn't look scary, only thoughtful.

Other works in the exhibition include lovely photographs of scenes from plays at the Ottawa Little Theatre, commercial work Karsh did in Canada and a documentation of Canada's post-World War II development, which he did for Maclean's magazine.

But it is the portraits that excite the most interest as Karsh explores his fascination with the human spirit, always aware, as he wrote, "that the heart and mind are the true lens of the camera."