The Power of Photography

THE POWER OF PHOTO GRAPHY Peter Fetterman

INTRODUCTION

I have spent a great part of my life looking at images. Initially, these were “moving”

a special image and the profound effect it had on me: overcome by a compulsion – what

images in a darkened cinema. I remember being first transported by David Lean’s

the French so beautifully call L’amour fou, crazy love – to find a way to acquire it regardless

Lawrence of Arabia in the Leicester Square Odeon when I was 13 years old. Then, that

of whether I had enough money to do so.

same year, having my heart broken by a rescreening of John Ford’s The Grapes of 6

Wrath at the British Film Institute on the South Bank. Soon I was devouring “still” images

Looking at my collection together, I don’t know if there is any rhyme or reason to it or

in books, almost living in libraries looking to discover more…

if there is any thread of a theme that connects the images. I have always just believed that collecting is a journey of self-discovery; these images reflect different stages of joy

I have to pinch myself every time the word “collector” enters my orbit. To me, to become

or sadness in my own life. I would hope that they also show a respect for humanity and

a collector one had to be born into a gilded age or be part of a distinguished heritage

nature and beauty. But that is not for me to say.

of enormous wealth: The Fricks, The Mellons, The Rockefellers. Nothing in my background could have prepared me for this life. My parents, sweet souls, both left school

This book was born out of a time of incredible global sadness and pain and

at 13 years old and struggled all their lives to make a living and bring up a family. There

unprecedented world anxiety. A forced lockdown allowed for a time of self-reflection

were no books nor any art in our small apartment. I listened all the time to a radio in my

for many of us. This stillness gave me time to think about what these images meant to

tiny room and learnt how to articulate sentences and realised there was a bigger world

me and, almost for self-therapy, I started to share them on a daily blog from my gallery.

out that there I needed to explore. Somehow, I managed to get a scholarship to go to

I thought I would do a week’s worth and then stop because no one else would really

university and, like many of my generation who came of age in the 1960s, I thought

care. To my complete surprise, I received feedback that the images and recollections

perhaps that my route of escape might lie in the arts – film, theatre, literature, fashion,

seemed to be helping people, complete strangers, navigate these surreal times. It was

music, design, art, photography... We were all dreamers then.

a truly humbling experience. So, I continued and then found I couldn’t stop... And the results you now hold in your hands

When I look at many of these images, first and foremost, they evoke memories of my relationships with their makers; I am so fortunate to have known and collaborated with so

I feel so fortunate to have been a temporary custodian of these images and now is the

many talented photographers. Then there are the memories of the time I first discovered

time to let them fly away and bestow their power on new recipients.

7

INTRODUCTION

I have spent a great part of my life looking at images. Initially, these were “moving”

a special image and the profound effect it had on me: overcome by a compulsion – what

images in a darkened cinema. I remember being first transported by David Lean’s

the French so beautifully call L’amour fou, crazy love – to find a way to acquire it regardless

Lawrence of Arabia in the Leicester Square Odeon when I was 13 years old. Then, that

of whether I had enough money to do so.

same year, having my heart broken by a rescreening of John Ford’s The Grapes of 6

Wrath at the British Film Institute on the South Bank. Soon I was devouring “still” images

Looking at my collection together, I don’t know if there is any rhyme or reason to it or

in books, almost living in libraries looking to discover more…

if there is any thread of a theme that connects the images. I have always just believed that collecting is a journey of self-discovery; these images reflect different stages of joy

I have to pinch myself every time the word “collector” enters my orbit. To me, to become

or sadness in my own life. I would hope that they also show a respect for humanity and

a collector one had to be born into a gilded age or be part of a distinguished heritage

nature and beauty. But that is not for me to say.

of enormous wealth: The Fricks, The Mellons, The Rockefellers. Nothing in my background could have prepared me for this life. My parents, sweet souls, both left school

This book was born out of a time of incredible global sadness and pain and

at 13 years old and struggled all their lives to make a living and bring up a family. There

unprecedented world anxiety. A forced lockdown allowed for a time of self-reflection

were no books nor any art in our small apartment. I listened all the time to a radio in my

for many of us. This stillness gave me time to think about what these images meant to

tiny room and learnt how to articulate sentences and realised there was a bigger world

me and, almost for self-therapy, I started to share them on a daily blog from my gallery.

out that there I needed to explore. Somehow, I managed to get a scholarship to go to

I thought I would do a week’s worth and then stop because no one else would really

university and, like many of my generation who came of age in the 1960s, I thought

care. To my complete surprise, I received feedback that the images and recollections

perhaps that my route of escape might lie in the arts – film, theatre, literature, fashion,

seemed to be helping people, complete strangers, navigate these surreal times. It was

music, design, art, photography... We were all dreamers then.

a truly humbling experience. So, I continued and then found I couldn’t stop... And the results you now hold in your hands

When I look at many of these images, first and foremost, they evoke memories of my relationships with their makers; I am so fortunate to have known and collaborated with so

I feel so fortunate to have been a temporary custodian of these images and now is the

many talented photographers. Then there are the memories of the time I first discovered

time to let them fly away and bestow their power on new recipients.

7

RICHARD CORMAN USA, b.1954 Jean-Michel Basquiat, New York, 1984

I don’t think about art while I work. I try to think about life.

Jean-Michel Basquiat (1960–1988)

My instinct was to place a 4ft-wide grey backdrop behind him, removed from all the distractions, and allow some sense of privacy so that I could see the human spirit behind the art.

Richard Corman 8 It was a magical hour that Richard Corman spent with Jean-Michel Basquiat in June 1984. Basquiat was flying high in his downtown studio at 57 Great Jones Street.

He had just finished his first solo exhibition at Mary Boone Gallery and was featured in MOMA’s inaugural re-opening show, an international survey of the most important painters and sculptors of the moment. Corman was on assignment for L’Uomo Vogue.

He brilliantly captured all of his sitter’s complicated personality, his anger, sadness, vulnerability and the curiosity behind his eyes. As a viewer, we also experience a quiet moment of freedom, which Basquiat seemed to enjoy away from all the pressures of increasing fame and the usual art world. Those pressures to produce more and more would, in turn, consume him and play into his inner demons. He would die in the same studio from a heroin overdose just four years later.

RICHARD CORMAN USA, b.1954 Jean-Michel Basquiat, New York, 1984

I don’t think about art while I work. I try to think about life.

Jean-Michel Basquiat (1960–1988)

My instinct was to place a 4ft-wide grey backdrop behind him, removed from all the distractions, and allow some sense of privacy so that I could see the human spirit behind the art.

Richard Corman 8 It was a magical hour that Richard Corman spent with Jean-Michel Basquiat in June 1984. Basquiat was flying high in his downtown studio at 57 Great Jones Street.

He had just finished his first solo exhibition at Mary Boone Gallery and was featured in MOMA’s inaugural re-opening show, an international survey of the most important painters and sculptors of the moment. Corman was on assignment for L’Uomo Vogue.

He brilliantly captured all of his sitter’s complicated personality, his anger, sadness, vulnerability and the curiosity behind his eyes. As a viewer, we also experience a quiet moment of freedom, which Basquiat seemed to enjoy away from all the pressures of increasing fame and the usual art world. Those pressures to produce more and more would, in turn, consume him and play into his inner demons. He would die in the same studio from a heroin overdose just four years later.

UNKNOWN Untitled, n.d.

50 I was researching images of children for a project concerning the child in photography and unexpectedly stumbled across this one. Maybe I was drawn to it because I come from a land replete with pomp and circumstance, very much, even now, a country full of traditions and class barriers that are hard to shake. Maybe they are arcane and irrelevant but when they revolve around the military, they can often be visually interesting. A good example is the Changing of the Guard in Whitehall, London, which is still a popular tourist attraction. These children in their uniforms and with their drums struck me as mini characters in a pageant they don’t quite understand but might well be part of their future. The albumen print was so gorgeous, I found it hard to resist.

UNKNOWN Untitled, n.d.

50 I was researching images of children for a project concerning the child in photography and unexpectedly stumbled across this one. Maybe I was drawn to it because I come from a land replete with pomp and circumstance, very much, even now, a country full of traditions and class barriers that are hard to shake. Maybe they are arcane and irrelevant but when they revolve around the military, they can often be visually interesting. A good example is the Changing of the Guard in Whitehall, London, which is still a popular tourist attraction. These children in their uniforms and with their drums struck me as mini characters in a pageant they don’t quite understand but might well be part of their future. The albumen print was so gorgeous, I found it hard to resist.

NEIL LEIFER USA, b.1942 Muhammad Ali vs Sonny Liston, 1965

Don’t count the days, make the days count.

Muhammad Ali (1942–2016)

If I were directing a movie and I could tell Ali where to knock him down and Sonny where to fall, they’re exactly where I would put them.

Neil Leifer 78 There is no doubt that this image is considered by many to be one of the greatest sports photos ever taken. Whenever I look at it, I am swept up in its power, beauty and electricity. It also evokes such welcome memories as I have known Neil Leifer for over 40 years, and he is certainly a fighter too. Leifer is forever pushing, tap-dancing to the next adventure, fuelled by his endless creativity and boundless energy. He is truly inspiring to be around.

I had the great honour of meeting Ali himself when flying from New York to Los Angeles Airport many years ago. As we were getting ready for take-off, the seat next to me remained empty until the very last moment and I had a minute of curiosity over who might sit down in that spot.

Fantastically, it was none other than Muhammad Ali. At this point in his life, he was suffering from late-stage neurological disease and he handed me a card that said: “Hello, I’m Muhammad Ali. I cannot talk to you because I have Parkinson’s, but nice to meet you. I hope you have a good flight. God Bless.” I was completely awe-struck through the entire flight. He possessed such grace, such class and still had so much charisma. Whenever I need an extra shot of adrenaline, I skip the coffee and spend a few moments reflecting on this photograph.

NEIL LEIFER USA, b.1942 Muhammad Ali vs Sonny Liston, 1965

Don’t count the days, make the days count.

Muhammad Ali (1942–2016)

If I were directing a movie and I could tell Ali where to knock him down and Sonny where to fall, they’re exactly where I would put them.

Neil Leifer 78 There is no doubt that this image is considered by many to be one of the greatest sports photos ever taken. Whenever I look at it, I am swept up in its power, beauty and electricity. It also evokes such welcome memories as I have known Neil Leifer for over 40 years, and he is certainly a fighter too. Leifer is forever pushing, tap-dancing to the next adventure, fuelled by his endless creativity and boundless energy. He is truly inspiring to be around.

I had the great honour of meeting Ali himself when flying from New York to Los Angeles Airport many years ago. As we were getting ready for take-off, the seat next to me remained empty until the very last moment and I had a minute of curiosity over who might sit down in that spot.

Fantastically, it was none other than Muhammad Ali. At this point in his life, he was suffering from late-stage neurological disease and he handed me a card that said: “Hello, I’m Muhammad Ali. I cannot talk to you because I have Parkinson’s, but nice to meet you. I hope you have a good flight. God Bless.” I was completely awe-struck through the entire flight. He possessed such grace, such class and still had so much charisma. Whenever I need an extra shot of adrenaline, I skip the coffee and spend a few moments reflecting on this photograph.

GERED MANKOWITZ UK, b.1946 The Rolling Stones, Between the Buttons out-take, London, 1966

Back in November 1966, and after an all-night recording session at Olympic Studios, I took a stoned, hung-over and exhausted bunch of guys called The Rolling Stones up to Primrose Hill in North London to shoot a series of portraits that I had hoped might become the cover for the album that they had been working on. I had a cumbersome home-made filter of black card, glass and Vaseline strapped onto the 50mm Distagon lens on the front of my Hasselblad 500C camera and hoped that I could keep them interested for 30 minutes or so.

They responded magnificently and I got a marvellous series of shots that looked perfect for the time – blurred and stoned the band looked just like The Rolling Stones should and I had the cover for Between the Buttons in the can.

Gered Mankowitz 116 The Rolling Stones are, of course, part of my youth and Mick’s sage credo, “I can’t get no satisfaction”, has always resonated with me. But this image was shot in one of my favourite spots in the world, Primrose Hill, on the edge of Regent’s Park in London. I always go back there to spend some quiet, reflective time whenever I am back in the UK. I discovered it when I was very young before it became hip and trendy. You stand at the top of the hill and it has such a grand, enveloping vista of this special city, with all its hopes, dreams and challenges in front of you. I always wanted to live there but so far that has eluded me.

I’m sure it has a special meaning for Gered Mankowitz too. He had connected with The Stones’ seminal manager Andrew Loog Oldham and, after an all-night recording session, he suggested that location to shoot a cover for their upcoming album. Bleary eyed, they piled into their cars and drove there. Mankowitz’s genius that early morning was to construct a filter of black card, glass and Vaseline and attach it to the 50mm lens on his Hasselblad 500cm camera, giving the image its somewhat otherworldly, out of body experience and sense of abstraction. The fact that it was bitterly cold that morning added another element. It certainly advanced Mankowitz’s career as he was asked to go on tour with The Stones that year in The States. He is the most normal, intelligent, easy-to-work-with music photographer I have ever met.

GERED MANKOWITZ UK, b.1946 The Rolling Stones, Between the Buttons out-take, London, 1966

Back in November 1966, and after an all-night recording session at Olympic Studios, I took a stoned, hung-over and exhausted bunch of guys called The Rolling Stones up to Primrose Hill in North London to shoot a series of portraits that I had hoped might become the cover for the album that they had been working on. I had a cumbersome home-made filter of black card, glass and Vaseline strapped onto the 50mm Distagon lens on the front of my Hasselblad 500C camera and hoped that I could keep them interested for 30 minutes or so.

They responded magnificently and I got a marvellous series of shots that looked perfect for the time – blurred and stoned the band looked just like The Rolling Stones should and I had the cover for Between the Buttons in the can.

Gered Mankowitz 116 The Rolling Stones are, of course, part of my youth and Mick’s sage credo, “I can’t get no satisfaction”, has always resonated with me. But this image was shot in one of my favourite spots in the world, Primrose Hill, on the edge of Regent’s Park in London. I always go back there to spend some quiet, reflective time whenever I am back in the UK. I discovered it when I was very young before it became hip and trendy. You stand at the top of the hill and it has such a grand, enveloping vista of this special city, with all its hopes, dreams and challenges in front of you. I always wanted to live there but so far that has eluded me.

I’m sure it has a special meaning for Gered Mankowitz too. He had connected with The Stones’ seminal manager Andrew Loog Oldham and, after an all-night recording session, he suggested that location to shoot a cover for their upcoming album. Bleary eyed, they piled into their cars and drove there. Mankowitz’s genius that early morning was to construct a filter of black card, glass and Vaseline and attach it to the 50mm lens on his Hasselblad 500cm camera, giving the image its somewhat otherworldly, out of body experience and sense of abstraction. The fact that it was bitterly cold that morning added another element. It certainly advanced Mankowitz’s career as he was asked to go on tour with The Stones that year in The States. He is the most normal, intelligent, easy-to-work-with music photographer I have ever met.

LASZLO LAYTON USA, b.1959 Koala, 2005

In the long history of humankind and animal kind too, those who have learned to collaborate and improvise most effectively have prevailed.

Charles Darwin (1809–1882) 131 I met Laszlo Layton several years ago when he came into the gallery and we struck up a conversation. He was very quiet and painfully shy. There seemed to be something special about him and he told me he was a photographer. Yes, I have heard that line many times before but I agreed to look at his work. I quietly looked through his portfolio and was immediately very moved. Here, at last, was something very different and original. He was working in a 19th-century cyanotype process producing such beautiful hand-crafted prints that moved me. His artistic intent was about preservation and memory, and loss of the animals and specimens he truly loved, many of which have sadly disappeared forever.

Layton himself is an endangered species in the contemporary photographic arena so dominated by the tricks of the digital world. He really belongs in another century but I am so happy he is here with us now.

As he tells us: “I want to make these animals look alive. I want to catch the life that was once in them. I want to see life coming out of their eyes.”

Thank you, Laszlo, for your dedication and passion.

LASZLO LAYTON USA, b.1959 Koala, 2005

In the long history of humankind and animal kind too, those who have learned to collaborate and improvise most effectively have prevailed.

Charles Darwin (1809–1882) 131 I met Laszlo Layton several years ago when he came into the gallery and we struck up a conversation. He was very quiet and painfully shy. There seemed to be something special about him and he told me he was a photographer. Yes, I have heard that line many times before but I agreed to look at his work. I quietly looked through his portfolio and was immediately very moved. Here, at last, was something very different and original. He was working in a 19th-century cyanotype process producing such beautiful hand-crafted prints that moved me. His artistic intent was about preservation and memory, and loss of the animals and specimens he truly loved, many of which have sadly disappeared forever.

Layton himself is an endangered species in the contemporary photographic arena so dominated by the tricks of the digital world. He really belongs in another century but I am so happy he is here with us now.

As he tells us: “I want to make these animals look alive. I want to catch the life that was once in them. I want to see life coming out of their eyes.”

Thank you, Laszlo, for your dedication and passion.

MAX YAVNO USA, 1911–1985 Premiere at Carthay Circle, Los Angeles, California, 1949

I was very serious about photography and remember thinking, ‘God, if I could only take two or three great photos in my lifetime!’

Max Yavno 162 Well, Yavno took more than two or three great photos in his lifetime and this one literally changed my life. It was 1979 and I had recently arrived in Los Angeles from England intent on pursuing my career in film production, which I had started there by producing a couple of small independent films. I was tired of always struggling to make something happen and, like so many dreamers before me, I travelled to the City of Angels to place my name among the stars. About a month after I arrived, I was taken to a small dinner party (I must have looked like I needed a good meal).

The host, a commercial photographer, had a collection of what I thought were beautiful images up around his house; I was totally mesmerised. During the course of the dinner, he let it be known that the collection was for sale in order to finance his latest collecting habit: vintage cars. I naively asked: “How much is this one?” as I pointed to the Yavno on the wall. He said $400. At the time, my total net worth was $2,000. I was living in a dingy apartment and driving a beat-up Ford Pinto that had dubious working brakes. If I’d been half rational, I would have used the money to replace the brakes.

But l’amour fou, I had to have this image as it deeply resonated with me, maybe because of my film aspirations at the time. As I always say to my clients, all collecting is autobiographical.

This started me off on my collecting compulsion, which got so intense over the years that after a horrendous experience producing a film for MGM, I decided to abandon my previous career, go “cold turkey” and focus on a way to be surrounded by these magical pieces of paper full time.

I have never regretted this decision. It was meant to be.

MAX YAVNO USA, 1911–1985 Premiere at Carthay Circle, Los Angeles, California, 1949

I was very serious about photography and remember thinking, ‘God, if I could only take two or three great photos in my lifetime!’

Max Yavno 162 Well, Yavno took more than two or three great photos in his lifetime and this one literally changed my life. It was 1979 and I had recently arrived in Los Angeles from England intent on pursuing my career in film production, which I had started there by producing a couple of small independent films. I was tired of always struggling to make something happen and, like so many dreamers before me, I travelled to the City of Angels to place my name among the stars. About a month after I arrived, I was taken to a small dinner party (I must have looked like I needed a good meal).

The host, a commercial photographer, had a collection of what I thought were beautiful images up around his house; I was totally mesmerised. During the course of the dinner, he let it be known that the collection was for sale in order to finance his latest collecting habit: vintage cars. I naively asked: “How much is this one?” as I pointed to the Yavno on the wall. He said $400. At the time, my total net worth was $2,000. I was living in a dingy apartment and driving a beat-up Ford Pinto that had dubious working brakes. If I’d been half rational, I would have used the money to replace the brakes.

But l’amour fou, I had to have this image as it deeply resonated with me, maybe because of my film aspirations at the time. As I always say to my clients, all collecting is autobiographical.

This started me off on my collecting compulsion, which got so intense over the years that after a horrendous experience producing a film for MGM, I decided to abandon my previous career, go “cold turkey” and focus on a way to be surrounded by these magical pieces of paper full time.

I have never regretted this decision. It was meant to be.

NORMAN PARKINSON UK, 1913–1990 Audrey Hepburn with flowers, 1955

I like to make people look as good as they’d like to look, and with luck, a shade better.

Norman Parkinson 184 Well, I don’t think the great 20th-century British photographer Norman Parkinson had too many problems on this day. This session was in a way the “perfect storm”.

Here you have one of the greatest gifts to the camera in the history of photography, Audrey Hepburn, blessed with a sublime combination of beauty and vulnerability, and “Parks”, one of the most skilled practitioners of his craft, whose sense of humour, charm and height relaxed everyone before his lens. This special image was shot at the Villa Rolli, just outside Rome, where Hepburn was filming War and Peace with her husband Mel Ferrer. It also helped that Hepburn was dressed in one of the greatest creations of her favourite designer, Givenchy. It is difficult to top this image, right?

NORMAN PARKINSON UK, 1913–1990 Audrey Hepburn with flowers, 1955

I like to make people look as good as they’d like to look, and with luck, a shade better.

Norman Parkinson 184 Well, I don’t think the great 20th-century British photographer Norman Parkinson had too many problems on this day. This session was in a way the “perfect storm”.

Here you have one of the greatest gifts to the camera in the history of photography, Audrey Hepburn, blessed with a sublime combination of beauty and vulnerability, and “Parks”, one of the most skilled practitioners of his craft, whose sense of humour, charm and height relaxed everyone before his lens. This special image was shot at the Villa Rolli, just outside Rome, where Hepburn was filming War and Peace with her husband Mel Ferrer. It also helped that Hepburn was dressed in one of the greatest creations of her favourite designer, Givenchy. It is difficult to top this image, right?

PAUL FUSCO USA, 1930–2020 Untitled, from the RFK train portfolio, 1968

There are those who look at things the way they are and ask why. I dream of things that never were and ask why not?

Robert F. Kennedy

JFK was gunned down by an assassin. Five years later, when Bobby rose to try to re-establish a government of hope, the hearts of Americans quickened and excitement flared. Then tragedy struck again. The blow was monumental.

Hope on the rise had again been shattered and those in most need of hope crowded the tracks of Bobby’s last train, stunned into disbelief, and watched that hope trapped in a coffin pass and disappear from their lives.

Paul Fusco 212 The camera is often the witness to monumental events in world history. Such was the case in Paul Fusco’s documentation of RFK’s funeral train as it proceeded to his final burial place close to his brother in Arlington Cemetery, Virginia. To my mind, it is one of the most powerful pieces of photographic reportage ever produced. In this, my adopted country of America, it seems as relevant today as when the images were first taken. The issues have not changed, and have even intensified, but the hope that one day solutions will be found is still there.

PAUL FUSCO USA, 1930–2020 Untitled, from the RFK train portfolio, 1968

There are those who look at things the way they are and ask why. I dream of things that never were and ask why not?

Robert F. Kennedy

JFK was gunned down by an assassin. Five years later, when Bobby rose to try to re-establish a government of hope, the hearts of Americans quickened and excitement flared. Then tragedy struck again. The blow was monumental.

Hope on the rise had again been shattered and those in most need of hope crowded the tracks of Bobby’s last train, stunned into disbelief, and watched that hope trapped in a coffin pass and disappear from their lives.

Paul Fusco 212 The camera is often the witness to monumental events in world history. Such was the case in Paul Fusco’s documentation of RFK’s funeral train as it proceeded to his final burial place close to his brother in Arlington Cemetery, Virginia. To my mind, it is one of the most powerful pieces of photographic reportage ever produced. In this, my adopted country of America, it seems as relevant today as when the images were first taken. The issues have not changed, and have even intensified, but the hope that one day solutions will be found is still there.

STEVE McCURRY USA, b.1950 The Afghan girl, Sharbat Gula, Pakistan, 1984

Most of my photos are grounded in people. I look for the unguarded moment, the essential soul peeking out, experience etched on a person’s face.

Steve McCurry 218

219 This is one of the most recognised images in the history of photography, often referred to as the “Mona Lisa” of photos. Yet, however many times you might have seen it reproduced in books or magazines, when you are actually standing in front of a real, physical print, it is even more powerful and alluring. In 1984, with the Soviet War in Afghanistan raging, refugee camps set up along the Afghan-Pakistan border were quickly filling with displaced people. As the numbers of refugees increased, McCurry was asked by National Geographic to explore and document these settlements. In one makeshift classroom in a girls’ camp near Peshawar, McCurry captured the image that would come to define a story, a conflict and a people. This is what great social documentary photographers like McCurry strive to achieve throughout their careers: to preserve an image that connects the viewer from the specific to the universal, revealing and reminding us of our common humanity.

STEVE McCURRY USA, b.1950 The Afghan girl, Sharbat Gula, Pakistan, 1984

Most of my photos are grounded in people. I look for the unguarded moment, the essential soul peeking out, experience etched on a person’s face.

Steve McCurry 218

219 This is one of the most recognised images in the history of photography, often referred to as the “Mona Lisa” of photos. Yet, however many times you might have seen it reproduced in books or magazines, when you are actually standing in front of a real, physical print, it is even more powerful and alluring. In 1984, with the Soviet War in Afghanistan raging, refugee camps set up along the Afghan-Pakistan border were quickly filling with displaced people. As the numbers of refugees increased, McCurry was asked by National Geographic to explore and document these settlements. In one makeshift classroom in a girls’ camp near Peshawar, McCurry captured the image that would come to define a story, a conflict and a people. This is what great social documentary photographers like McCurry strive to achieve throughout their careers: to preserve an image that connects the viewer from the specific to the universal, revealing and reminding us of our common humanity.

The power of photography lies in its ability to ignite emotions

across barriers of language and culture. This selection of 120 unique and heartening photographs from the 20th century, compiled by pioneering collector and gallerist Peter Fetterman, offers an inspiring overview of the medium while paying homage to masters of the art, from the bizarre Boschian fantasies of Melvin Sokolsky to the haunting humanity of Ansel Adams’s family portraits, from Miho Kajioka’s interpretation of traditional Japanese aesthetics to the joyful everyday scenes of Evelyn Hofer; each photograph speaks of tranquillity, peace, and hope for the future.

“This unique collection showcases images that convey a graphic dignity and a sense of silent peace. There is optimism and beauty here. This book leaves us with an outstanding legacy of the photographers’ work.”

Don McCullin “Peter’s eye is one of the surest, his knowledge all-encompassing and his sensibility, on the evidence presented here, is of great compassion.

A joy to see old friends assembled again, but how instructive to make new ones too. I will treasure this book.”

Robin Muir “This book recounts Peter’s relationship with different photographers and the importance of photography in his life. Above all, it is a testament to his deeply-felt love for the world of photographs and photographers.”

Sebastião Salgado

ISBN: 978-1-78884-122-1

9 781788 841221

54500 £30.00/$45.00

www.accartbooks.com