Photography

Houston’s Photography Collective Puts Its Focus On Home — Inside the World of Flats

Houston’s Photography Collective Puts Its Focus On Home — Inside the World of Flats

Flats photography collective developed film and community relationships for its latest exhibition “Interwoven,” a collection of Houston-based photographers’ perspectives on their shared home. Named for its origins of hosting traveling photography exhibition series in artists’ homes, Flats will fittingly showcase the work of Colby Deal, Lee Deleon, Sol Diaz-Peña, Mary Margaret Hansen, Adrienne Simmons and Briana Vargas in a community member’s residence in the historic Harwood Court complex this Friday, June 14 and Sunday, June 16.

The organization’s programming is sponsored by Fresh Arts, an artistic service-driven nonprofit, and is partially funded by the City of Houston’s Arts Alliance.

Mary Margaret Hansen’s After Breakfast Photo Shoot, circa early 1980s, is a feminist take on the concept of being a housewife. The image is a portrait of the photographer (left) with fellow photographer/collaborator Patsy Cravens.

The setting of the showcase is a testament to the interconnectedness of Houston’s creative network as Harwood Court is named for its famous Houston-bred architect Harwood Taylor, known for popularizing the modern frame house. The complex is now owned by architect and art patron Palmer Schooley, who co-chaired Fresh Arts’ 2024 Gala.

Flats founder Jessi Bowman invited photographers from a wide range of backgrounds to participate in the exhibition to highlight different interpretations of the theme “the shared human experience.” After doing deep dives on each artist’s social media pages and considering how their pieces would complement each other, Bowman says that she and fellow photographer/curator Ryan Francisco built not just another exhibition, but a community. 

“I’m really looking forward to the connections and camaraderie that get made at these kinds of exhibitions,” Bowman notes. “We have a very diverse group of artists, including a wide age range, and seeing them meet and make connections through their art is a really fun thing to watch.”

imageMi Deseo No Me Deja Descansar is showcased at Flats’ “Interwoven.”” srcset=”https://www.mecreates.com/story/news/wp-content/uploads/2024/06/Mi-Deseo-No-Me-Deja-Descansar-Courtesy-of-Sol-Diaz-Pena.jpg 2450w, https://www.papercitymag.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/06/Mi-Deseo-No-Me-Deja-Descansar-Courtesy-of-Sol-Diaz-Pena-300×140.jpg 300w, https://www.papercitymag.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/06/Mi-Deseo-No-Me-Deja-Descansar-Courtesy-of-Sol-Diaz-Pena-1024×479.jpg 1024w, https://www.papercitymag.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/06/Mi-Deseo-No-Me-Deja-Descansar-Courtesy-of-Sol-Diaz-Pena-768×360.jpg 768w, https://www.papercitymag.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/06/Mi-Deseo-No-Me-Deja-Descansar-Courtesy-of-Sol-Diaz-Pena-1536×719.jpg 1536w, https://www.papercitymag.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/06/Mi-Deseo-No-Me-Deja-Descansar-Courtesy-of-Sol-Diaz-Pena-2048×959.jpg 2048w, https://www.papercitymag.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/06/Mi-Deseo-No-Me-Deja-Descansar-Courtesy-of-Sol-Diaz-Pena-600×281.jpg 600w” sizes=”(max-width: 2450px) 100vw, 2450px”>
Sol Diaz-Peña’s Mi Deseo No Me Deja Descansar is showcased at Flats’ “Interwoven.”

While some artists presenting their work interpreted the theme of community literally, incorporating images of loved ones, others went an abstract route, taking photos of cityscapes and nature.

Gifts for Dad

“We wanted it to be a show about community, but just as community can look different we wanted that to be reflected in the show,” Bowman tells PaperCity.

For those looking to spruce up their social media presence, attendees will have the opportunity to have their portraits taken in the complex’s courtyard by photographers from Studio D-18 on Friday, June 14. Congregants who make their pilgrimage to see “Interwoven” on Sunday, June 16 can participate in Art Mass, a reflective experience involving meditation, conversations with the artists and communal crafting. 

Flats’ “Interwoven” will be on view this Friday, June 14 from 6 to 10 pm; and Sunday, June 16 from 11 am to 2 pm at Harwood Court (3262 W. Main Street). Click here to RSVP.

Additional reporting from Catherine D. Anspon.

Here’s how an Associated Press photographer found the extraordinary in a red hat

Here’s how an Associated Press photographer found the extraordinary in a red hat
image

Associated Press photographer and two-time Pulitzer Prize winner Emilio Morenatti has visited more than 50 countries in a 30-year career, always looking to elevate a moment by finding the beauty in the mundane. His most recent trip was to South Africa for the national elections. Here’s what he had to say about making this extraordinary photo.

Why this photo?

Here’s how an Associated Press photographer found the extraordinary in a red hat

Here’s how an Associated Press photographer found the extraordinary in a red hat

Associated Press photographer and two-time Pulitzer Prize winner Emilio Morenatti has visited more than 50 countries in a 30-year career, always looking to elevate a moment by finding the beauty in the mundane. His most recent trip was to South Africa for the national elections. Here’s what he had to say about making this extraordinary photo.

Why this photo?

This page requires Javascript.

Javascript is required for you to be able to read premium content. Please enable it in your browser settings.

Photographer Andrew Esiebo Travelled around Lagos and Saw This   

Photographer Andrew Esiebo Travelled around Lagos and Saw This   

Esiebo has chronicled how used tyres are being repurposed in Lagos in a photography series exhibited as part of the British Academy-funded Pneuma-City project. Esiebo’s photos are shown in the headquarters of the vulcanisers’ association in the Lagos neighbourhood of Mushin. The association’s motto is “no tyre, no movement”. The photos are simultaneously being exhibited in seven vulcaniser workshops across the city, curated by the Lisbon-based Inês Vallee.

THE GUARDIAN

Daniel Kramer obituary

Daniel Kramer obituary

The American photographer Daniel Kramer, who has died aged 91, was just beginning his professional career when by chance he caught a young folk singer’s performance on the Steve Allen Show on 25 February 1964. Until that moment, Kramer had never heard of Bob Dylan, but the 22-year-old singer’s stirring rendition of his stark protest song The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll caught his attention.

“He may have had a guitar in his hand, but the lyrics were poetry,” Kramer later recalled of Dylan’s delivery. “And, he had to be very brave because, if you said things like that you could get shot.”

Kramer was so impressed that he began repeatedly calling and mailing the office of Dylan’s manager, Albert Grossman, with requests to photograph the singer. His persistence finally paid off after six months when Grossman himself answered the phone and, to Kramer’s surprise, gave him the go-ahead for a photoshoot. It took place a few days later at Grossman’s house in Woodstock, upstate New York, the planned one-hour session stretching to five hours.

In monochrome tones, Kramer captured Dylan posing on a swing on Grossman’s front porch, deep in concentration during a game of chess with a friend at a local cafe and, in one mischievous shot, pointing one of Kramer’s own cameras back at him. Months later, he accompanied Dylan on tour, creating memorable shots of the singer on and offstage, including one where the singer is lifted off his feet by Joan Baez following a triumphant concert at the Lincoln Center, New York.

With hindsight, the photographs are an intimate document of a brief interlude of calm before the storm of creativity and controversy that would follow. It was Kramer’s great good luck to meetDylan when the singer was on the cusp of a surge of creativity that would see him dramatically reinvent himself and, in the process, redefine what popular music could do.

Kramer was in attendance once again in January 1965 to document the New York recording sessions that produced the Bringing It All Back Home album, released in March of that year. It marked Dylan’s controversial move from an acoustic to an electric sound, and that shift was also reflected in Kramer’s cover image.

It features a more consciously stylish Dylan staring intently into the camera, as Grossman’s glamorous wife, Sally, lounges, cigarette in hand, on a sofa behind him. The pair are enclosed by a blurred circle of light that renders everything on the edge of the photograph indistinct. “People think I used Vaseline to create that circular image,” Kramer said. “That’s not what I did. It’s two different pictures on one film. One is moved, and one is not. I wanted to simulate a record spinning or the universe of music.” Dylan, Kramer’s image intimated, was now at the centre of his own, singular, creative universe.

Bringing It All Back Home was Kramer’s first experience of shooting an album cover. From the cat sitting on Dylan’s lap to the plethora of symbolic objects scattered around him – including albums by Lotte Lenya, Robert Johnson and Ravi Shankar, a fallout shelter sign, various artworks and magazines – the cover image echoes the music therein by signifying a brave new beginning.

As Kramer later said of Dylan’s transformation, “On the first four albums, he’s a folk singer. He’s in folk singer clothes … On Bringing It All Back Home, he’s a prince in his blazer and his beautiful cufflinks, sitting with this beautiful cat and a ravishingly beautiful woman behind him in a red dress. It was a change. Everything was changing.”

In August of the same year, Kramer also shot the cover for another classic Dylan album, Highway 61 Revisited. This time, the session was more impromptu, with Kramer capturing the singer as he sat on a stoop of the building where Grossman lived in Gramercy Park, New York, wearing a Triumph Motorcycles T-shirt and a multicoloured shiny shirt.

The photo session, which lasted around 20 minutes, took place just after the recording of Dylan’s epochal song Like A Rolling Stone, and again the image reaffirms his defiant creative reinvention. “He looks hostile or at least moody,” Kramer said later. “He seems to challenge me – or whoever he looks at – ‘What are you going to do about it, dude?’”

Born in Brooklyn, New York, Daniel was the eldest of three children of Ethel (nee Berland), a hospital administrator, and Irving Kramer, who worked on the docks. Irving was also an amateur film-maker in his spare time, and may have been a formative influence on the young Daniel, who gravitated to photography early on. Aged 14, he hosted a solo exhibition of his own work at his junior high school. He later joined the army’s Military Police Corps for a time before becoming a student at Brooklyn College.

He was mentored for a time by the esteemed photojournalist W Eugene Smith, a pioneer of the editorial photo essay, and worked as a studio assistant for both Philippe Halsman and Diane Arbus before embarking on his solo freelance career. He had not long established his own studio when he made the fateful trip to Woodstock to photograph the singer who had so fascinated him on a TV variety show.

Although he made memorable portraits of other celebrities, including Muhammad Ali, Janis Joplin, Johnny Cash and Norman Mailer, Kramer’s name was for ever associated with Dylan.

In 2016, he published a 300-plus-page book, A Year and a Day, which included many previously unseen images of the artist. According to Kramer, it contained only a fraction of the photographs he shot during their fruitful creative partnership, which ended a year and a day after the pair first met.

In late August 1965, Dylan performed at Forest Hills Stadium in Queens, New York. It was the first time he had played an entire gig with an electric band and Kramer captured Dylan at the soundcheck, in shades and holding his electric guitar, with an almost empty stadium behind him.

He looks preoccupied, maybe even a little nervous, his alert demeanour suggesting someone prepared to go to war with his audience for the sake of his art. It is a long way from the easygoing atmosphere that Kramer had captured just a year before in the leafy environs of Woodstock.

Back then, as Kramer later put it, they were “just a couple of guys taking some pictures that day to see what we could do”. What Dylan went on to do in the following months would alter the course of popular music. Kramer was there to document him do it and, in the process, photograph his way into history.

Kramer married Arline Cunningham in 1968. She died in 2016. He is survived by a niece and three nephews.

Do look down: how daredevil artist Donn Delson shoots from the sky

Do look down: how daredevil artist Donn Delson shoots from the sky

Streaks of red bunting zigzagging through Chinatown, tents for garden parties pitched in Buckingham Palace and secret roof gardens tucked into the tops of city skyscrapers. This is a side of London most people never see – unless they are hanging out of a helicopter.

Which is what the 75-year-old daredevil artist Donn Delson does, all to bring a fresh perspective on familiar places to people on the ground.

“Art is about creating a story and evoking emotion, giving people an experience they might not otherwise have had. I want people to feel like you’re in a helicopter with no door,” he said.

“I try to express a lesson I learned, that things aren’t always what they seem at first glance. It’s good when you take a beat to look at something and give a second consideration as to what it is and what it means to you as a person.”

Delson, based in Los Angeles, takes his photos by flying around for a couple of hours in a doorless helicopter until he identifies a target image. The pilot then turns the helicopter on its side, enabling Delson to suspend himself and angle his camera to capture an image taken directly overhead that needs to be “tack sharp”, despite buffeting winds. He then blows these up into large canvases that measure about 2.5 metres by 3.5 metres.

London is one of his favourite cities to photograph thanks to its unusual urban topography – a mix of old and new architecture that has sprouted up in erratic, organic combination, and surprising bursts of colour in its plethora of parks.

When the Guardian joined Delson to get an insight into his work, flying around the city at about the height of the Shard (310 metres), London became a different, breathtaking place. Neighbourhoods that feel distinct on the ground merged into a chaotic mishmash of skyscrapers of varying heights, contrasting with orderly rows of Victorian terraces, punctuated by tower blocks and interspersed with the parks’ bright shocks of green and the blue-grey Thames snaking through.

“From above, buildings take on a whole different look – all of a sudden there’s lines, there’s patterns. In this city there’s even colour – people jokingly tell me London has no colour – London is extremely colourful from the air,” Delson said.

Rather than documentary photography, he is looking to capture the unexpected that can be glimpsed only from this unusual vantage point. Familiar forms on the ground become abstract images when seen from the air, often resembling the explorations of colour and form contained in work by Piet Mondrian, Paul Klee, Mark Rothko and Bauhaus artists.

Delson has travelled around the world in pursuit of the perfect, “serendipitous” shot. Among his favourites are the “breathtakingly beautiful” Missoni-esque desert striations next to the teal Dead Sea, a shot of Mount Fuji perfectly framed by fluffy white clouds, and a rare capturing of a rainbow in a 360° circle in Molokai, Hawaii.

He is also interested in optical illusions, which are the subject of a forthcoming exhibition on shipping container art in Phoenix, Arizona, inspired by an earlier piece picturing rows of coloured shipping containers resembling keys, which he named Xylophone.

Delson has also photographed rows of Japanese cherry blossoms for an image named Abacus, taken a shot of perfectly symmetrical parasols on a beach titled Space Invaders in homage to the arcade game’s aesthetic, and parked vans in the shape of a wine bottle, ironically titled Bottleneck.

“I’m kind of obsessed with the concept of perception and appearance versus reality, and a lot of my art, in my points of view collection, what I look for is a trompe l’oeil.

“I’m taking a photograph that is lifelike and I’m turning it on its side a little bit and making it something that tricks the eye and has a whimsical name to it. All of a sudden it’s something different than what you think it is.”

Capturing the Secrets of Light and Shadow: Photographer Muda Tomohiro

Capturing the Secrets of Light and Shadow: Photographer Muda Tomohiro

The photographer Muda Tomohiro’s work has taken him from Japan’s temples to the cathedrals of Europe; from the heights of the Himalaya to the tsunami-blasted shores of Tōhoku. In all these locations he has opened his eyes and heart to the messages sent out by the light and shadow in the scenes he captures.

Capturing the Classics of Japanese Sculture

One of Muda Tomohiro’s most remarkable photographs is one he took of the standing Mujaku (the bodhisattva Asanga) at the temple Kōfukuji in Nara. The sculpture, a national treasure, is one of the masterpieces of Japanese Buddhist art. In Muda’s picture, it is hard to believe that you are looking at is an image carved out of wood in the twelfth century. The veins standing out on the temples, the wrinkles around the mouth, the look of peace and quiet resolution in the eyes . . . The picture conveys a breathtaking sense of reality, as if the great Buddhist teacher has been brought back to life and is standing there in front of your eyes.

Standing Statue of the Bodhisattva Asanga (Mujaku) (© Muda Tomohiro)
Standing Statue of the Bodhisattva Asanga (Mujaku) (© Muda Tomohiro)

The picture of the Asanga figure graces the cover of the 2020 Tomohiro Muda Buddha Universe, which compiles Muda’s photographs of some of the greatest masterpieces of Buddhist art. (© Muda Tomohiro)
The picture of the Asanga figure graces the cover of the 2020 Tomohiro Muda Buddha Universe, which compiles Muda’s photographs of some of the greatest masterpieces of Buddhist art. (© Muda Tomohiro)

Muda remembers well the day he encountered this statue’s visage and took its photo, all in the course of just 10 minutes or so. He was in Nara to take pictures for a major exhibition on sculptor Unkei to be held at the National Museum, Tokyo, in autumn 2017. Muda was working with a sizeable group of people from the temple, museum staff, and his own assistants—between 10 and 20 people in all. As the morning came to an end, he felt that things had gone as well as could be expected, and went to lunch feeling reasonably satisfied with his work so far.

He checked his phone to discover a missed call from an old university friend. When he returned the call, he was shocked to hear his friend tell him: “They’ve amputated my right leg. The whole thing.” Muda stood dazed and oblivious as his assistants bustled about discussing plans for the afternoon. He couldn’t take anything in.

He drifted back to the Hokuendō, the temple’s Northern Round Hall, where he noticed that a door that had been locked all morning was suddenly standing open. Inside, autumnal sunlight streamed low through the open door, glinting off the floor and bringing out the lines of the sculpture in exquisite detail.

“This is it!” he thought.

There was no one else in the hall; the rest of the team were still busy with preparations outside. Using a telephoto lens, he fired off a rapid sequence of photos without reflection or hesitation. It wasn’t something he had been aiming for; certainly nothing he could have planned. But for those 10 minutes, he had lost all awareness of conscious thought or deliberate planning. In a sudden flash of inspiration, he was open to receive the secrets the sculpture had bequeathed.

When Silent Subjects Speak

When a photographic subject begins to yield its secrets, it is as though the subject is giving you permission to take your photographs, Muda says. Go ahead, shoot. And when you hear that message, you obey.

“It’s not a conscious thing. The subject is transmitting something rich and profound. My job is to become a receiver, ready to pick up on whatever message the subject wants to transmit.”

(© Kawamoto Seiya)
(© Kawamoto Seiya)

It’s a state of mind far removed from daily concerns—an experience of being “in the zone,” akin to the state of “no mind” prized by Zen meditators and martial arts practitioners. Muda calls it putting the brain in neutral. “Your consciousness is lowered, and you’re not thinking about things as you would normally be.” When drawing close to a subject he wants to photograph, Muda says he always tries to orient himself toward his subject and remain as open as possible to what it wants to tell him. Buddhist images, art, architecture . . . Muda’s photography has specialized in inanimate objects imbued with a mysterious “aura” or soul. All of them have a message to convey. Muda’s job is to use his camera to capture that message. It is a stance that never changes, whatever kind of subject he is working with.

What is it that Muda senses when he takes on this kind of antenna-like sensitivity? According to the photographer himself, what he picks up on is something that lies within the subject: “memories of prayer, memories of time.” For one project, he traveled to some of the areas of Tōhoku that were devastated by the Great East Japan Earthquake of March 2011, and photographed objects left behind by people who lost their lives in the disaster. Muda says he felt the memories of the people who had owned the objects coming through to him strongly, along with frozen memories of the terrible hours immediately after the tsunami hit.

A house slipper swept away by the tsunami presents a different face when found years later. From Toki no ikon: Higashi Nihon daishinsai no kioku (Icons of Time), in which Muda photographed objects left behind by the Great East Japan Earthquake. (© Muda Tomohiro)
A house slipper swept away by the tsunami presents a different face when found years later. From Toki no ikon: Higashi Nihon daishinsai no kioku (Icons of Time), in which Muda photographed objects left behind by the Great East Japan Earthquake. (© Muda Tomohiro)

The weight of this accumulated memory is even more powerful in the case of a Buddhist image that might be a thousand or more years old. The sculpture seems to carry an accumulation of memories dating back to Unkei (1150–1223), who made the image as an expression of his own faith, through all the many generations of people who have stood in front of the image, hands joined in prayer. The accumulated weight and power of those centuries of memory releases an enormous wave of energy: Muda says his job is to synchronize himself with this energy and make sure that he is ready to receive it when it comes.

No Medium for Self-Expression

Not that Muda himself always saw things this way. When he was a student at Waseda University, he approached Tōmatsu Shōmei (1930–2012), a photographer he admired, and asked to be allowed to study with him. Tōmatsu brushed him off unceremoniously. But they remained in touch, and the older photographer would occasionally give Muda his opinions on his work. One day, he said: “You think of photography as a means of self-expression, don’t you? Let me tell you: it’s not suited for that at all.”

At first, Muda struggled to understand. “His pictures were the epitome of self-expression! I wondered what he was talking about.” These doubts were only resolved two years later. After graduating from university, Muda spent a total of 18 months living in a Sherpa village in the Himalayas of eastern Nepal.

“I realized that the world outside was so much wider and deeper than anything inside me—for me to think that photographing this vast world could be a form of self-expression was just vanity. I needed to make myself receptive to the world and learn to pick up on messages that could not be expressed in words—and somehow to capture them in my photographs. That was my job, my mission.” Muda describes the time he spent in the Sherpa village as “an experience that fundamentally shook my understanding and changed the way I look at the world.”

An image from The Land of Sherpa, 1990. (© Muda Tomohiro)
An image from The Land of Sherpa, 1990. (© Muda Tomohiro)

Finally, what Tōmatsu had told him made perfect sense. “Photography is not a medium for self-expression.” The words resounded with the ring of truth and have been part of his artistic faith ever since.

Becoming One with Particles of Light

The photographs Muda had taken in Nepal were published in 1990 as The Land of Sherpa. This was followed by several volumes that focused on churches and monasteries in Europe: Romanesque: Sacred Buildings in Light (2007), Citeaux (2012), and Romanesque: Those Lurking in Light and Darkness (2017). The word “light” (hikari) in Japanese occurs in the titles of many of his collections.

For Muda, nothing is as important as natural light. His fascination dates to childhood, when his grandfather took him to Nara to visit the old temples. He would stand transfixed for hours, staring up at the silent Buddhas atmospherically delineated in the eternal twilight of the prayer halls. “It was as if I could see the particles of light. I felt myself being absorbed into this mass of light particles. And I always felt in synch with the messages that were being sent out by what I was looking at.”

This feeling became a firm conviction after his experiences in the Sherpa village. In the afterword to his first book, Muda wrote in the following terms about his experiences with light:

Perhaps it was the interplay between the alternating diffusions and concentrations of light that often gave me a strange kind of vertigo. Looking at the world with my camera, I felt as if I were standing at the entrance to another world. And I often felt this other world crossing the boundaries and spilling over into this one.

The light in Muda’s work sparks recognition across national borders and religious differences. When he held an exhibition in Paris of his photographs of Romanesque architecture, many of the people who visited the exhibition were astonished. “You have captured the light exactly as we always felt it in these churches since we were children,” one said to him. “How it is possible that an outsider like you could grasp and understand this unique sense of light so well?”

Gentle light streams through small windows into the unadorned, crepuscular nave of a church or monastery—and somewhere there, between the light and shadow, lurks a sense of the divine. The response the photos had in France is proof of how effectively Muda Tomohiro has trained himself to act as a receiver, picking up on the light that comes from the accumulated memories of the generations who have prayed here for more than 800 years.

From Citeaux (2012). (© Muda Tomohiro)
From Citeaux (2012). (© Muda Tomohiro)

Fragments of the Secrets of the Universe

Muda began his career in the days of film. The arrival of digital cameras marked a turning point.

In the film era, taking pictures cost time and money: the more you took, the more time and money you had to spend developing your pictures. You needed to have a clear idea in advance of the picture you wanted to take, and shoot sparingly. By doing away with these considerations, the digital era changed everything. “You could concentrate on just taking pictures . . . and sometimes these strange things, like fragments of the secrets of the universe, would appear in your shots—things you could never have captured if you had been consciously trying to achieve that effect.”

The first time he used a digital camera was to take pictures of a sculpture by Unkei, where the narrow interior of the temple made working with a large film camera impractical. At a certain moment, sensing something in the “aura” of the statue, he turned the lens clicked the shutter. When he looked at the liquid crystal display, he was astonished to see that the camera had captured exactly what he had felt. He remembers the surprise clearly to this day. “Wow,” he exclaimed audibly to himself, “Something amazing has shown up in this image!”

At exhibitions, he is often asked whether he waits for the perfect light, but he dismisses the idea. “I never do anything like that.” He doesn’t make plans in advance. “When I’m on a shoot, I walk around the object I want to photograph—and take pictures subconsciously in response to something in the light that catches my eye at certain moments.” This style has remained unchanged throughout his career, even as the evolving technology of digital cameras has widened the possibilities for photography.

The photographer allows himself to be led, without deliberate planning, and the emotional power he shares with his subject reverberates through his photographs to reach a wider audience. In this way, his antennae become more attuned than ever to the silent signals of memory and the past that linger in places both sacred and profane. Muda’s work will no doubt continue to invite us on a journey into this secret world of light and shadow.

From Yungang Grottoes (2005). (© Muda Tomohiro)
From Yungang Grottoes (2005). (© Muda Tomohiro)

(Originally published in Japanese. Interview by Kondō Hisashi of Nippon.com. Text by Sumii Kyōsuke of Nippon.com. Banner photo: Taken at the Komazawa University Museum of Zen Culture and History during the interview. © Kawamoto Seiya.)

Seeing the sights in Tokyo, 1960

Seeing the sights in Tokyo, 1960

(James Vestal/Stars and Stripes)

Tokyo, 1960: Service members George Rosenblatt and Leo Kuehnen take a photograph of a Japanese woman holding up her parasol. Touring Tokyo with his camera, Pacific Stars and Stripes-Korea bureau photographer James Vestal captured on film the impressions of the city that servicemen on Rest and Recuperation leave get. Vestal’s photographs show the visiting servicemen’s fleeting glimpses of the world’s largest city. Vestal joined other visiting staffs from Korea, photographing them as they covered the city.

Pictured here is a scan of the original 1960 print created by Stars and Stripes Pacific’s photo department to run in the print newspaper. The red marks indicate the crop lines. Only the middle part of the image would appear in the newspaper. As all pre-1964 Stars and Stripes Pacific negatives and slides were unwittingly destroyed by poor temporary storage in 1963, the prints developed from the late 1940s through 1963 are the only images left of Stripes’ news photography from those decades. Stars and Stripes’ archives team is scanning these prints to ensure their preservation.

Looking for Stars and Stripes’ historic coverage? Subscribe to Stars and Stripes’ historic newspaper archive! We have digitized our 1948-1999 European and Pacific editions, as well as several of our WWII editions and made them available online through https://starsandstripes.newspaperarchive.com/

Historic riot photos launched this Cincinnati duo to height of photography

Historic riot photos launched this Cincinnati duo to height of photography

June 9, 2024 at 7:48 AM

If you look at early photographs of Cincinnati from the late 19th and early 20th centuries, you’ll often spot the names Rombach & Groene. Or just the initials R&G, which were painted onto the corners of the photo prints.

Rombach and Groene were among the most prominent photographers in Cincinnati. They were listed in the city directory as “mercantile and landscape photographers,” meaning they photographed scenes, buildings, residences and machinery.

Their images of long-gone buildings from Cincinnati’s past, such as the castle-like Chamber of Commerce Building or the old Hamilton County Courthouse, are of particular historic interest.

Though I saw their names often on old photographs, some in The Enquirer’s collection, I knew little about who Rombach and Groene were. Like most photographers, we mostly know them by their work.

Our History: Cincinnati has a rich history. Here’s how I started covering it and why I’m hooked

Rombach & Groene, largest landscape photographers

J. Louis Rombach, known as “Lew,” was born in 1848. Theodore Groene was born in 1860. Both were sons of German immigrants and native to Cincinnati.

Both also began working at a young age for noted Cincinnati photographer Charles Waldack, who was credited as the first person to take underground photos in America when he captured images of Mammoth Cave in Kentucky in 1866.

Starting in the mid-1870s, Rombach and Groene worked together for landscape photographer Charles Muhrman, noted for his stereoscopic views – side-by-side photos of a scene that when viewed together in a device create the illusion of depth.

In 1883, the duo purchased Muhrman’s business at 401-403 W. Third St. and began operating as Rombach & Groene. Three years later, R&G moved to a studio at 476 W. Fourth St. (later renumbered as 812 W. Fourth St.).

The last horse-drawn streetcar on Fourth Street passes in front of Rombach & Groene’s photograph studio about 1892.The last horse-drawn streetcar on Fourth Street passes in front of Rombach & Groene’s photograph studio about 1892.
The last horse-drawn streetcar on Fourth Street passes in front of Rombach & Groene’s photograph studio about 1892.

Rombach & Groene was advertised as “The Largest Establishment of Its Kind in the United States.” Its three-story studio included one of the largest photographic operating rooms in the country, as well as separate rooms for printing, retouching, chemical processing, enlarging, and mounting and finishing, plus a fireproof safe for negatives.

Photography was still such a novelty in the late 19th century that making prints larger and quickly was worth notice.

The Enquirer printed a brief story on March 29, 1884, under the headline “Fast Work,” praising Rombach & Groene for photographing a wrecked building “yesterday at four o’clock, and two hours later sent a mounted picture of the ruins to this office.”

The date is significant. Not only had it just been a few months since Rombach and Groene took on the business for themselves, but that was also the first day of the infamous courthouse riot.

Photos of the effects of the 1884 courthouse riot

A Cincinnati Post story on March 31, 1884: “Rombach & Groene, Photographers, of this city, have just printed some elegant views of our burned Court-house.”

A very brief history of a complicated event: In March 1884, Cincinnati citizens were fed up with laxity in murder charges in the court system. A mob of thousands stormed the jail next to the Hamilton County Courthouse at Main and Court streets, sparking three days of deadly riots. The militia brought a Gatling gun to help quell the mob. On the second night, the rioters broke into the courthouse and set it on fire, destroying the building and most of the county’s irreplaceable records. When peace was restored, more than 50 people were dead.

Rombach and Groene took a series of photographs of the militia at the barricade, of the exterior of the damaged courthouse and of the gutted ruins inside. They published them under the title, “Effects of Great Riot at Cincinnati, March 28 & 29, 1884.”

Images from the courthouse riots in March 1884. The Ohio militia created a barricade on Court Street with a Gatling gun. The gutted ruins of the Hamilton County Courthouse are in the background.Images from the courthouse riots in March 1884. The Ohio militia created a barricade on Court Street with a Gatling gun. The gutted ruins of the Hamilton County Courthouse are in the background.
Images from the courthouse riots in March 1884. The Ohio militia created a barricade on Court Street with a Gatling gun. The gutted ruins of the Hamilton County Courthouse are in the background.

The Ohio Memory Collection has those photos available online.

This visual records of the darkest days in Cincinnati history are frightening in their reality, more effective even than the illustrations depicting the actual burning of the courthouse.

It seems likely it was these photos that made Rombach & Groene’s reputation, launching the duo to the height of the profession in Cincinnati.

Photographing nearly a century of Cincinnati history

Rombach made his home in Covington. Illness forced him to retire in 1906, and he died Sept. 3, 1910. He is buried in Spring Grove Cemetery.

Groene of West Price Hill died April 25, 1911. He is buried in St. Mary Cemetery in St. Bernard.

Groene’s sons, Charles and Arthur, continued the business for many decades. The studio moved from Fourth Street in 1962 (the site is now a criss-cross of freeways) to 1774 Westwood Ave. in South Fairmount.

Carew Tower about when it opened in 1931, taken by Rombach & Groene.Carew Tower about when it opened in 1931, taken by Rombach & Groene.
Carew Tower about when it opened in 1931, taken by Rombach & Groene.

Charles Groene was an aerial photographer during World War I and president of the Photographers Association of America. Arthur took most of the company’s later photos until his retirement in 1973.

The Cincinnati Museum Center acquired the Rombach & Groene collection in 2001, with more than 6,500 glass and film negatives that document the city’s growth – and growing pains.

Sources: “Mercantile and Landscape Photographers: Rombach and Groene” by Linda Bailey, Enquirer and Cincinnati Post files.

This article originally appeared on Cincinnati Enquirer: Cincinnati’s 1884 courthouse riot documented by these 2 photographers