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Art

About the fine print

The stunning results justify the difficult and time-consuming art of photogravure.

By LENNIE BENNETT
Published December 24, 2006

ADVERTISEMENT [Graphicstudio/USF] Robert Mapplethorpe, Irises, 1987, photogravure. [Courtesy of the Drapkin Collection] Edward S. Curtis, Navaho Medicine-Man, from the Prospectus of the North American Indian, 1906, photogravure.

TAMPA

We read all the time about extinction threatening animal and plant species, but hardly ever art forms. Yet there are very old, arcane ways of making art, cumbersome, time-consuming and expensive, that are rarely used today because of economics, ignorance or laziness.

Look no further than the Florida Museum of Photographic Arts for an example. "Technology into Art: The Photogravure from 1850 to Today" celebrates a process that faced extinction in the 20th century and is being kept alive thanks to organizations such as the Aperture Foundation, along with a few master printers such as Deli Sacilotto and venues such as Graphicstudio on the Tampa campus of the University of South Florida.

The photogravures in this exhibition are arranged chronologically, telling the history of the medium. It's a small show, with 35 prints, but the examples illustrate its beauty and its fascination for artists who take the time to work within its demanding strictures.

A long history

Photogravure, invented in the mid-19th century, was a forerunner to modern photography. There were several methods of photographic reproduction at that time, including the daguerreotype, the most common and popular. Its drawback was that the image, made on glass, could not be reproduced. William Henry Fox Talbot found a way to transfer a photographed image onto a metal plate that was then run through a printing press, making multiple copies possible. The process, refined over the next few years, became known as photogravure.

Photogravure is an elaborate undertaking, requiring a positive transparency, a copper plate onto which that image is chemically etched and a printing press. A high level of skill is needed to execute the many steps. No wonder that once a far simpler method of reproduction was developed using only light and chemical baths to transfer an image to paper, photogravure was all but forgotten.

Thank goodness for men like Alfred Stieglitz who was photogravure's most influential advocate, recognizing its superiority in creating nuanced, rich tones. In his influential early 20th century journal Camera Work, he hastened the acceptance of photography as an art form rather than just a means of documentation. And he used the photogravure process to demonstrate why a photographic reproduction, even printed in multiples horrors!, could be art.

Examples of Stieglitz's photogravures for Camera Work are on display, along with Paul Strand's famous image of a white picket fence photographed in sharp contrast to a house cast in shadow.

One of the most massive undertakings in the medium's history was by Edward S. Curtis. He produced 2,000 photogravure plates over more than two decades, which became The North American Indian, a 20-volume documentation of a people whose way of life was also facing extinction. Some were printed in large-format portfolios, with a handful on view here. But until a few decades ago, they were little known.

Giving photos depth

Sacilotto, the master printer, has been an eloquent contemporary proponent of photogravure. Working for another printer in New York in the 1960s, he stumbled on some of Curtis' plates and researched the process. It has captivated him for 40 years, leading to technical innovations and collaborations with important artists. Until his recent retirement, he was director of research at Graphicstudio, famous for its fine art prints and from which about half of the photogravures in this exhibition are lent.

In them you see the range of creative expression possible. A bouquet of irises photographed by Robert Mapplethorpe and William Wegman's Weimaraners are as richly textured as Old Master etchings. Ed Ruscha plays with his signature "word" paintings in which ambiguous phrases, often taken from roadside signs, are painted onto an abstracted landscape.

In a series of color photogravures (very difficult technically, by the way) he uses beautiful photographed landscapes. The phrases are printed below the photograph and in their place are crude white blocks, like cut-outs, marring the scenic vistas like pollution. Robert Rauschenberg used gritty street scenes as a starting point, photogravuring them onto silk for a gauzy elegance.

They couldn't be more different from Talbot's early experiments. But all of them teach us that however old a medium, it always has the potential for new life, as long as there are artists willing to move it forward and an audience willing to appreciate their efforts.

REVIEW

Technology into Art: The Photogravure from 1850 to Today

The show is at the Florida Museum of Photographic Arts, 200 N Tampa St., Tampa, through Jan. 28. Hours are 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. Tuesday through Saturday. Suggested donation $2. (813) 221-2222 or www.fmopa.org.

On the Web

At www.fmopa.org, you can download podcasts of artists talking about photogravure.

[Last modified December 21, 2006, 11:43:14]