Quick Facts
Born:
January 15, 1955, Leipzig, East Germany (age 70)

Andreas Gursky (born January 15, 1955, Leipzig, East Germany) is a German photographer known for his monumental digitally manipulated photographs that examine consumer culture and the busyness of contemporary life. His unique compositional strategies result in dramatic images that walk the line between representation and abstraction.

Gursky, the son and grandson of commercial photographers, grew up in Düsseldorf, West Germany. During the late 1970s he studied photography in Essen at the Folkwang Academy (now part of the multicampus Folkwang University of the Arts). He then became a student of Bernd and Hilla Becher at the Staatliche Kunstakademie in Düsseldorf (1981–87). There he started, like the majority of his peers, photographing in black and white with a handheld Leica camera, but he quickly went against trend and began working in colour with a larger 4 × 5-inch (10.2 × 12.7-cm) camera on a tripod. Despite his preference for working in colour, Gursky’s flat, dispassionate documentary style placed him squarely within the Düsseldorf school of photography, alongside Thomas Ruff, Candida Höfer, and Thomas Struth, all of whom studied under the Bechers. Gursky’s subject matter during the 1980s ranged from office-building security guards behind their desks to vast panoramas in which small figures engage in leisure activities to landscapes of the Ruhr River valley. Ratingen Swimming Pool (1987) shows a lush green landscape dotted with tiny figures swimming and relaxing by the pool. The scene was photographed from a considerable distance at a slightly elevated perspective. Though shot far from the pool, the image captures every element of the scene with extreme clarity and focus. Gursky’s thoroughgoing attention to detail in every part of the composition is a style for which he became known and celebrated.

By the late 1980s Gursky was producing photographs so large that they could be printed only in a commercial lab; within a few years he was printing on the largest photo paper available, and still later he was combining the largest single sheets to make his images even larger. Gursky was the first to produce prints that measured as large as 6 × 8 feet (1.8 × 2.4 metres) or larger. An example of that scale is his Paris, Montparnasse (1993)—a panoramic image of a large high-density apartment building that stands 7 feet high × 13 feet wide (about 2.1 × 4 metres). The head-on, slightly elevated perspective captures the building, some sky, and some ground, offering the viewer an entry point into the scene. However, by not including the side edges of the building within the frame of the photograph, Gursky made the structure look infinitely wide, with thousands of inhabitants living in close quarters but—with no visible interaction and the endless repetition of walls between apartments—seemingly isolated and alienated from one another. Paris, Montparnasse is an example of Gursky’s use of formal compositional strategies to comment on and construct narratives related to the realities of contemporary urban life.

Paris, Montparnasse also exemplifies Gursky’s early attempts at digital manipulation, with which he began to experiment in 1992. His process involved shooting chromogenic prints (or “c-prints”) with film, using a large-format 5 × 7-inch (12.7 × 17.8-cm) camera; he scanned the images and digitally retouched and manipulated them on a computer. In Rhein II (1999)—which is 5 × 10 feet (about 1.5 × 3 metres)—Gursky created a nonexistent section of the Rhine River. By joining photographs of different segments of the river, Gursky invented an entirely new landscape, free of industry and human presence. Like a colour-field painting, the photograph is a composition of stunning colour and precise geometry. In 2011 Rhein II became the most expensive photograph sold at auction, going for more than $4.3 million. Perhaps his most-recognizable images are a group of aerial shots of whirling activity on the trading floor of the Chicago Board of Trade (1999). Those images burst with colour, movement, and a striking amount of detail that covers every inch of the massive photograph. With its repetition of gestures and spots of intense colour, the lack of a distinct focal point, and the implication of the scene going on infinitely outside the frame of the photograph, Gursky achieved the effect of an all-over painting—a composition with no single focal point and in which paint reaches to all edges of the canvas—as in works from the late 1940s and early 1950s by Abstract Expressionist Jackson Pollock. Gursky’s images of big concerts, such as Madonna I (2001) and Cocoon II (2008) are other examples of that effect. In order to achieve flatness and a compressed depth of field, Gursky sometimes employed helicopters or cranes that allowed him to shoot from above and thus to avoid a traditional one-point perspective.

Gursky also often manipulated colour in order to achieve a more organized or homogenous palette, such as in 99 Cent II Diptychon (2001), a dizzying diptych shot in a 99 Cents Only store. He manipulated the colour to create an explosion of repeating reds, yellows, and oranges dotted with blue, pink, white, and black. He also digitally inserted a reflection of the merchandise onto the ceiling, adding to the overwhelming visual effect and to the sensation of being surrounded by consumer culture gone mad.

In the mid-2000s Gursky often worked in Asia—chiefly in Japan, Thailand, North Korea, and China. His series Pyongyang, shot in 2007 in North Korea, documented the Arirang Festival—a sporadically held weeks-long annual event, named for a Korean folk song, that in 2007 involved 80,000 participants in highly choreographed gymnastic performances honouring the late founder of North Korea, Kim Il-Sung. Gursky photographed the festivities from an enormous distance, rendering the spectacle of tens of thousands of acrobats and performers a flat carpet of colour and frozen gestures.

In 2011 in Bangkok he created a series that captured the Chao Phraya River from above. His focus on reflection, currents, and the play of light and shadow on the flowing river resulted in images that look alternately like abstract paintings and satellite photographs. Gursky also returned to printing and exhibiting much smaller photographs as a way to experiment with perception and reception, as in the exhibition “Werke/Works 80–08” at the Vancouver Art Gallery (2009). Aside from wanting to be able to exhibit more works in less room, he had been exhibiting works on a monumental scale for nearly two decades and chose to introduce small prints again in order to understand the impact of scale on the viewer’s visual experience.

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Gursky fundamentally redefined photography for a new generation of artists. His unabashed use of digital manipulation forced into debate a new version of the age-old question of truth in photography, a discussion that began as early as the 1860s when it became apparent that the truth-recording capabilities of the camera could be manipulated, thereby distorting reality and eroding the viewer’s trust. Gursky’s approach pushed critics and artists to consider whether the question of truth, with the prevalence of digital photography and digital processing, was even relevant to the discussion anymore.

Naomi Blumberg

history of photography, method of recording the image of an object through the action of light, or related radiation, on a light-sensitive material. The word, derived from the Greek photos (“light”) and graphein (“to draw”), was first used in the 1830s.

This article treats the historical and aesthetic aspects of still photography. For a discussion of the technical aspects of the medium, see photography, technology of. For a treatment of motion-picture photography, or cinematography, see motion picture, history of, and motion-picture technology.

(Read Ansel Adams’ 1947 Britannica essay on “Photographic Art.”)

General considerations

As a means of visual communication and expression, photography has distinct aesthetic capabilities. In order to understand them, one must first understand the characteristics of the process itself. One of the most important characteristics is immediacy. Usually, but not necessarily, the image that is recorded is formed by a lens in a camera. Upon exposure to the light forming the image, the sensitive material undergoes changes in its structure, a latent (but reversed) image usually called a negative is formed, and the image becomes visible by development and permanent by fixing with sodium thiosulfate, called “hypo.” With modern materials, the processing may take place immediately or may be delayed for weeks or months.

The essential elements of the image are usually established immediately at the time of exposure. This characteristic is unique to photography and sets it apart from other ways of picture making. The seemingly automatic recording of an image by photography has given the process a sense of authenticity shared by no other picture-making technique. The photograph possesses, in the popular mind, such apparent accuracy that the adage “the camera does not lie” has become an accepted, if erroneous, cliché.

This understanding of photography’s supposed objectivity has dominated evaluations of its role in the arts. In the early part of its history, photography was sometimes belittled as a mechanical art because of its dependence on technology. In truth, however, photography is not the automatic process that is implied by the use of a camera. Although the camera usually limits the photographer to depicting existing objects rather than imaginary or interpretive views, the skilled photographer can introduce creativity into the mechanical reproduction process. The image can be modified by different lenses and filters. The type of sensitive material used to record the image is a further control, and the contrast between highlight and shadow can be changed by variations in development. In printing the negative, the photographer has a wide choice in the physical surface of the paper, the tonal contrast, and the image colour. The photographer also may set up a completely artificial scene to photograph.

The most important control is, of course, the creative photographer’s vision. He or she chooses the vantage point and the exact moment of exposure. The photographer perceives the essential qualities of the subject and interprets it according to his or her judgment, taste, and involvement. An effective photograph can disseminate information about humanity and nature, record the visible world, and extend human knowledge and understanding. For all these reasons, photography has aptly been called the most important invention since the printing press.

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Inventing the medium

Antecedents

The forerunner of the camera was the camera obscura, a dark chamber or room with a hole (later a lens) in one wall, through which images of objects outside the room were projected on the opposite wall. The principle was probably known to the Chinese and to ancient Greeks such as Aristotle more than 2,000 years ago. Late in the 16th century, the Italian scientist and writer Giambattista della Porta demonstrated and described in detail the use of a camera obscura with a lens. While artists in subsequent centuries commonly used variations on the camera obscura to create images they could trace, the results from these devices depended on the artist’s drawing skills, and so scientists continued to search for a method to reproduce images completely mechanically.

In 1727 the German professor of anatomy Johann Heinrich Schulze proved that the darkening of silver salts, a phenomenon known since the 16th century and possibly earlier, was caused by light and not heat. He demonstrated the fact by using sunlight to record words on the salts, but he made no attempt to preserve the images permanently. His discovery, in combination with the camera obscura, provided the basic technology necessary for photography. It was not until the early 19th century, however, that photography actually came into being.

Early experiments

Heliography

Nicéphore Niépce, an amateur inventor living near Chalon-sur-Saône, a city 189 miles (304 km) southeast of Paris, was interested in lithography, a process in which drawings are copied or drawn by hand onto lithographic stone and then printed in ink. Not artistically trained, Niépce devised a method by which light could draw the pictures he needed. He oiled an engraving to make it transparent and then placed it on a plate coated with a light-sensitive solution of bitumen of Judea (a type of asphalt) and lavender oil and exposed the setup to sunlight. After a few hours, the solution under the light areas of the engraving hardened, while that under the dark areas remained soft and could be washed away, leaving a permanent, accurate copy of the engraving. Calling the process heliography (“sun drawing”), Niépce succeeded from 1822 onward in copying oiled engravings onto lithographic stone, glass, and zinc and from 1826 onto pewter plates.

In 1826/27, using a camera obscura fitted with a pewter plate, Niépce produced the first successful photograph from nature, a view of the courtyard of his country estate, Gras, from an upper window of the house. The exposure time was about eight hours, during which the sun moved from east to west so that it appears to shine on both sides of the building.

Niépce produced his most successful copy of an engraving, a portrait of Cardinal d’Amboise, in 1826. It was exposed in about three hours, and in February 1827 he had the pewter plate etched to form a printing plate and had two prints pulled. Paper prints were the final aim of Niépce’s heliographic process, yet all his other attempts, whether made by using a camera or by means of engravings, were underexposed and too weak to be etched. Nevertheless, Niépce’s discoveries showed the path that others were to follow with more success.