Part of my town lives online now and it’s cold comfort that doesn’t represent the real version at all. We still have to fight the impulse to run into every monologue TikToker in the East Village. My favorite type of video produced by these kids is the man on the street interview asking other recent transplants questions like “What are you wearing?” or “How are you so sure?” It’s pretty cool that they think we’d like some advice from each person, when no one can think of anything better to do in New York than create content.
But audiences have always been interested in the inner lives of urbanites, a territory explored by “Brassai: Secret Signs of Paris” at Moderna Museet, the first major Swedish presentation of the artist, known as Gyula Halász (1899-1984). This Transylvanian-born immigrant took the name of his hometown, Brassó, and became the definitive portrait of Paris after dark. Curator Anna Tellgrenworking with the photographer’s grandson Philippe Ribeyrolles and the Estate Brassaï Succession – which lent almost the entire show – has collected more than 160 vintage gelatin silver prints, each developed by Brassaï’s own hand, plus his 1956 short film. The selection traces his three timeless subjects: the night city and its inhabitants, the artists with whom he directed as Pablo Picasso and the anonymous street graffiti he haunted for a quarter of a century – long before graffiti became something sought after as office decor.
King of the Sun (circa 1950) is a fine example of the latter work, which graces the cover of his book Graffiti (1960). It depicts a carving of an anonymous grotesque broken into a wall at the Porte de Saint-Ouen, the gateway to the flea market on the northern working-class edge of Paris. The title is ironic, of course, a reference to the man who once said “l’état c’est moi”, but in this image one sees a grandeur presented as different from, but not inferior to, Versailles. The photographer would carry pocket cards to sketch each mark and note its address so it could be returned for better light or to track how a carving changed over the years.
He loved getting to know his subjects and you can see through this interest in masks how he befriended Picasso, this intimacy displayed in Picasso in his studio, Rue des Grands-Augustins (circa 1939-40). The artist feels comfortable enough to submerge a sculpture under the penetrating lights of a professional photo shoot that allows us to see its varied texture and—though this was probably not intended—Picasso’s squiggly dots. And to think he was originally hired to document only three-dimensional artwork. His notes from their hangings were made Conversation with Picasso (1964), which bore the artist’s quote, “Read this book if you want to understand me.”
Among his most popular works is Lovers in a small cafe in Paris, Place d’Italie (c. 1932), a nightlife photo that at first glance makes similar claims to transparency. The pair sit on a corner banquette, surrounded by mirrors, so the photo promises a look at every aspect of their embrace. But we can’t fully see either of their faces, and the emotion in hers is mysterious. This is a portrait of romance in the abstract, in all its brilliant darkness and smoke.
More at the exhibitions
