Thoughts on "W. Eugene Smith and the Art of Witnessing" at the Yale University Art Gallery

Although being a long-time fan of photographer W. Eugene Smith, I never expected to find the surprises and emotions that I felt recently visiting his exhibit at the Yale University Art Gallery. I've always read as much as I could, watched documentaries and interviews with him, eager to pick up anything new about him that I had missed. I have to admit there was a gap in my knowledge of his work after leaving the exhibit. That's hard for me to say, admiring his work and work ethic for so long. One of the first things that hit me was that many, but not all, of the photos there were signed by him, so I'd have to assume they were printed by his hand, given how much of a darkroom perfectionist he was. By his own estimate, 90 percent of a photograph's work happened not in the field but in the darkroom, with him often spending days in the darkroom to get prints exactly how he wanted them.

His series of World War II photographs is one of the first sets you see when entering the fourth floor. It showed the brutal reality of war, which affected him physically from wounds received covering the invasion of Okinawa, which took almost two years to recover from. It also affected him mentally, which I don't believe he ever got over in his lifetime. This first group of photos itself is a little arc of  his life with photos showing life, death, and then life again. The was shown first by his photos of combat and then ending with one single photo of his children Patrick and Juanita, in the photo The Walk to Paradise Garden.

One photo in particular, Mad Eyes, Haiti (1958), was part of his series on a Haitian psychiatric hospital, showing his dramatic and emotional photos taken there. Even in a tough subject like this, he manages to create such emotional photos while still being respectful of his subjects. In the darkroom, Smith burned the surrounding room to near-total darkness, then used potassium ferricyanide bleaching to pull the patient's face and alarming eyes back into the light. This print example, as the gallery put it, took his philosophy to its furthest extreme. Throughout Smith’s career he printed to show what he saw versus what the camera could capture. He preferred emotional truth over just mere documenting. This photo, with the man seeming to stare off the paper past you shows off his typical chiaroscuro style, with the deep blacks, the mid-tones of his face, and then the few white highlights in his eyes and forehead. Seeing how Smith wanted to do good with his work, for change in society, I have to wonder what was going through his mind while shooting these photos. I didn’t know much about it going into the exhibit. Have most people heard of this assignment?

There were details which I able to get an up close look at to help me better understand his methods. A perfect example would be The Wake (1950), often referred to as the Spanish Wake photo. There are several women depicted looking over a deceased man but in particular there are two women who were looking toward the camera where he darkened their eyes with what looks like a veil, but it was just in his processing. He did this to keep the focus on the deceased being mourned by the group as a whole. He burned in the shadows in the room and partially covered the eyes of the two women who had looked toward his camera to ensure the image was shown as an intimate unobserved moment being captured rather than a posed one. He has stated that he printed his photos to represent what he saw versus only what the camera was capable of capturing. Next, there were two photographs displayed back to back. The first print was one of his most famous which showed the three Spanish soldiers looking sternly and defiant off into the distance, as if they're keeping an eye on someone or a situation. Next to it was a photograph of an elderly lady in the same area. It shows her with her eyes almost wanting to hide but still keeping an eye on the man photographing her. These photos showed two different attitudes in the same situation or area.

The photo of Tomoko in the bath brought all of his techniques and the entire gallery showing together for me. His chiaroscuro technique, lighting, humanity, darkroom perfectionism, and respect for his subjects all came together. From what I read, it was Tomoko’s mother's idea to photograph her daughter this way in the bath which ended up showcasing the tenderness in how she cared for her daughter captured with beauty by his chiaroscuro technique. Tomoko’s body was harmed by industrial poisoning, Minamata Disease.

Lastly, his photo of Albert Schweitzer, from the series A Man of Mercy (1954), taken on his last assignment for Life magazine, showed some of his humor and friendship with his friend and editor, John Morris. Smith spent five days dodging and burning the print, darkening the surroundings without losing detail in Schweitzer's lamplit hands and face. On the back of the print, he inscribed it to Morris: "To John, Technical data, oil lamp, and strobe light bounced against a dirty brown floor, exposure of ½ second with a hand steady from good, good scotch and benzedrine. Love, Gene." This line captured both his technical precision and his wry humor about the alcohol and amphetamines fueling his work habits. He left Life when the magazine condensed the layout for its November 15, 1954 issue, feeling the story had been changed from what he, the photographer who was the only one who saw what he saw, had wanted to present over mere documentary neutrality.

The exhibit runs through Dec. 6 with free entry to the gallery.