Industry, its people - and the photographer
(Die Fotografie 4/1948)

When hearing the term »industrial photography,« the layman frequently has a very specific understanding of it, an understanding which only incompletely and one-sidedly gets to the essential core of this important branch of photography. That is: He mainly sees steaming chimneys, giant workshops, conveyor systems, or, at most perhaps endless and loaded freight trains. In his mind (and he never thought about it), industrial photography is nothing but constantly new versions of the representation of these industrial symbols.

In addition, he usually allows these images to speak to him in some sort of romantic way, and not as merciless objective documents of civilization. Last but not least, this is the case because the photographs of these industrial symbols, which were meant for general viewing contexts (and hence for a large audience), had a more or less noticeable, romantic aura. Photographic exhibitions, cultural magazines, picture calendars, and photo-yearbooks showed this clearly - always under the condition that exceptions only confirm the rule.

Purely objective representations were reserved for specialists who had a specific interest and were part of their context.

Back to the layman and his very incomplete understanding of industrial photography. What does he know of the exceptional role that photography plays in and for the industry today? Yes, one is often confronted with the opinion that the industrial photographer is second-rate. He is so because he takes photographs only of lifeless objects. Furthermore, one often searches in vain for essential traits of the beautiful in these objects. By the least, these are undoubtedly objects whose national-economic usefulness has priority over any aesthetic considerations. From such a (one-sided) viewpoint, the practice of industrial photographers could appear profane in comparison to the creations of a portrait photographer. The work of the former then appears as the mere mechanical execution of an inevitable process.

Anyone who has only once experienced an industrial photographer intensely occupied with his task will change his mind very quickly! When he sees how an industrial photographer works with extensive sets of lamps in giant workshops and nevertheless has to struggle with insufficient lighting. When he sees him climbing high scaffoldings, dangerous to life, because the task required it! When he experiences how the industrial photographer has to give directions in workshops where he can hardly hear himself, and perhaps in temperatures, which the regular visitor would find unbearable! When he sees that the industrial photographer had to deal with the respective weather conditions because certain photographs had to be taken under any circumstances! When he has witnessed that the industrial photographer had to put on leather uniforms to go along down into the pits to take photographs in positions completely unknown to the studio photographer! When he sees him not bothered by dust, flue ash, or oil stains, when he sees him disappearing into a still very hot, damaged boiler and returning as if coming out of a steam bath! When he witnessed in person that a task frequently requires use of a large camera, although the exclusive use of a small camera is so tempting because it involves so much less physical strain - while then of course in practice the results would be less »tempting« than the large format photograph. These are some flashes onto the practice of the industrial photographer, who has truly earned his name. And maybe another nerve wrecking circumstance should be mentioned.

The assignment for the industry may require that in order to solve a specific problem, the production is stopped for some few minutes (everything to the smallest detail must be prepared). For the production, »some few minutes« can imply: expenses that go into the hundreds. Nothing must go wrong here. A single mistake has completely different consequences than a studio photographer telling his client »Please come again, the plate had a problem,« or »You moved!« Where the minutes are counted in hundreds, the industrial photographer cannot come up with petty excuses!

Let's draw a comparison between the portrait photographer and the industrial photographer regarded as second-rate.

(We consciously do not figure into our comparison the truly grand photographers, those of first caliber who represent man. Their achievements are on a completely different level.)

The studio photographer moves a few curtains or turns on his lamps to be independent from exterior lighting condition. The model is »posed!« What counts here is, to a large extent, not the natural pose and movement, but simply how »interesting« the pose is! For if they spend the money, the majority of clients wants to see themselves not life-like, but interesting at all costs. The lighting choice is dependent on this too. The necessary schemes can easily be found in celebrity picture-postcards. And if one has practiced these things hundreds of times, it works without effort. Then comes the well-known »click« of the trigger. And since one has executed the same thing under the same light conditions for years, a (technically) reasonable negative simply must come about. Nothing can really go wrong. And from the [studio] showcases, uniform schemes then look out at the contemplative viewer. He may now be more inclined to recognize that the industrial photographer is not the only one occupied with the representation of »lifeless things (a fact which one likes to degrade him with)! And to be fair, then compare the mere photo-technical difficulties of the industrial photographer with the smooth working process of the portrait photographer:

The latter takes photographs always under the same conditions. The industry specialist simply always has to cope with new contexts: changes in natural light caused by well-known, inevitable factors; daylight mixed with artificial light; or - because nothing else remains - vacu-flashlights or open flashlights, whose effect can never be calculated ahead of time, especially not in giant, more or less dark halls.

Or: Black machines with shiny and mirroring parts against large windows hit by the sun. It borders on mental acrobatics and is often not less dangerous than artistic acrobatics to deal with such conditions in the context of simple photographic technology.

Furthermore, close-ups true to the material require an extraordinary technical skill on the part of the industrial photographer. Moreover: Emphatic aesthetic considerations play a role as well since many industrial photographs are not only used for production purposes but should also have an advertising dimension. All this is usually overlooked when speaking of a »mere« industrial photographer.

Added are the already mentioned physical strains. Who would doubt under such conditions that a successful industrial photographer must probably master his craft (in the broadest sense) in a completely different way than a portrait photographer, who likes to think of himself as an artist and for this very reason regards the industrial photographer (whom he does not deem an artist) as second-rate on the professional scale. This might also be the case because the industrial specialist, like the workers, often cannot remain very clean when he works and takes photographs of dirty things. Dirt from work, however, can make someone lose prestige in the eyes of foolish people. From this point of view (to which one could easily add others) it follows clearly how out of place it is to call a human being, who carries the whole burden of his profession, a »mere« industrial photographer.

But can't we think of a synthesis between pure portrait photographer and man of the industry? Most certainly! And this question touches on a point which publications on the topic of »industrial photography« have hardly even hinted at. This concerns the true and close-to-life image of the worker and any other craftsman.

Through his work, the industrial photographer is in constant contact with workers and craftsmen. Often he cannot even manage without their help. Why shouldn't a few photographs be taken during the breaks, in private, not commissioned? After all it could be possible that a respectable collection of images accumulates. The smallest as well as the largest industries are rich mines for such discoveries. One can find wonderful character portraits everywhere. And the photographer does not even have to sneak up to them. They are just there! And the industrial photographer finds the worker and craftsman in a way that they would never enter the studio: in their working clothes - traces of work on their hands and faces. He encounters him at work, with a machine tool, an anvil, at the melting furnace, or maybe at the fermenting vat of a brewery. And find a worker who would turn down such an offer. But not just the photograph of the whole figure can be inspiring - on the contrary: Working in that direction would imply a general broad scope. Fascinating, however, are those photographs which show the worker in close relationship with »his« machine, the machine he has somehow grown together with. The law of »pars pro toto« (a part for the whole - or put even more precisely: an essential part weighs more than the insignificant whole) leads to entirely terse images that make a strong impression. This also results in interesting visual studies of work psychology. Yet under no circumstances should one just rush to shoot photographs - first one should observe, and then observe again. That can always be done with only a few glances. The image should first take shape in the photographer's imagination, then he should begin to shoot. A moment which the camera caught too soon will often lack the necessary concentration in the image. It is not necessary to use a high-speed camera: Success stems not from the technology but from handicraft skills and psychological intuition.

The climax, however, is the full-image character portrait, captured with nuanced empathy. It is not difficult to imagine the effects of a portfolio of such photographs! The attempt to capture simple human beings in a systematic and grand way was already made once: This was Lersky's book Man in Everyday Life. If this book did not have a great impact, this was the case because Lersky did not take the people as he found them: grand in their simplicity. Rather, he treated them like a moldable mass, made them will-less and then captured them in the way in which he wanted to see them.

For twelve years it has been sermonized that only the peasant can still have an unspoiled, expressive face - this sermon was methodical, we were flooded with images of peasants - we were served images of farmers on any suitable or unsuitable occasion. This ruthlessly calculated and sentimentally served spook is over. What remains is the insight that the huge army of craftsman and industrial workers probably includes a larger percentage of characteristic faces than these peasants!

It would be a nice private task of the industrial photographer to prove this viewpoint.

Don't believe the peasant was so content with himself that he disliked any posing! On the contrary. The industrial photographer avoids this danger with his models when they see him as their working pal. In the event of a more distanced relationship to the models, it is only the art of treating humans that surely leads the industrial photographer to his goal.

Little needs to be said about technique. The industrial photographer, who has mastered other things, will hardly find it difficult to solve the technical problems of his portraits.

This is important: the background should either be part of the image, or it should be as restrained as possible - one can always find a plain wall. A good visual effect is destroyed by unfocused planes floating around in the background. The worst fear one might have, however, is contrast! One should not shy away from strong lights and crisp shadows - they work out the facial expression in a completely different way than a broad, leveling frontal light. Unlike Ortho-Material, Pan-Material tends not to render shadows lacking detail. It cannot be denied, however, that an Ortho-Layer can be advantageous given our task: it models the skin more strongly than a Pan-Layer - and it is precisely strength that we want to see here, we do not want to see faces bleached by red sensitive material. And a certain hardness which the lens creates is more characteristic of the working people than a softness!

Certain purely aesthetic aspects of the image cannot and should not be overlooked in this context! The image of industrial man, too, should first and foremost have a visual effect, it should capture the viewer's gaze! The first precondition then is unquestionably the existence of a visual idea. Without such an idea, a technically perfect photograph cannot be anything but a simple representation (which one sees and instantly forgets). Yet the visual idea is not the only requirement - there are additional, purely formal requirements. The image attains strong tensions through a well balanced distribution of tones (light and dark) and through symbols of movements, which must be captured at their climax. These strong tensions make the images stand out easily from the mass of many, too many images. The effectiveness of a close-up was already noted above. This close-up works decisively against the general shallowness which is often connected to photography. - One of the most important pictorial elements is the lighting! Hence again here the stress against the fear of contrast! But it must easily be visible, where the light is coming from. A sure-footed (also technical) mastery of contrast is a precondition taken for granted. Take for example the extraordinary achievements of Dulovit! An obvious and indecisive wavering between contrast and even lighting is unbearable. A light that casts crisp outlines wonderfully works out the character of a face - broad frontal light will result in nothing more than a large-scale passport photograph! Above all this should be followed: Pay attention, and pay attention again to the face as a mirror of the soul. The pure industrial photographer always runs into one danger: What may be truth to the materials with respect to machines easily leads to vivisection with respect to human portraits. This vivisection destroys all expression, the expression which originates from the inner life of a human being.