Beschreibung:

Constantin Brancusi View of the Studio, The Sorceress and the Chief c. 1925 Gelatin silver print. 28.9 × 25.1 cm (11 3/8 × 9 7/8 in)
Provenance Acquired directly from the artist James Johnson Sweeney, New York Literature V. G. Paleolog, Brancusi, Bucharest: Ed. Forum, 1947, p. 29 Brancusi Photographe, Paris: Centre Georges Pompidou, 1977, p. 41 H. Kramer, Brancusi, The Sculptor as Photographer, London: David Grob Editions, 1980, pl. 1V F. T. Bach, M. Rowell, A. Temkin, Constantin Brancusi Paris: Centre Georges Pompidou/ Philadelphia Museum of Art, 1995, p. 226 Le Magazine, Centre Georges Pompidou, Paris, 15 May–15 July 1995, number 87, cover F. T. Bach, Constantin Brancusi Metamorphosen plastischer Form, Cologne: Dumont Literatur U.Kunst, 2004, pl. 167, p. 110 P. Schneider, Un Moment Donné, Brancusi et la Photographie, Paris: Editions Hazan, 2007, p. 85 Constantin Brancusi and Richard Serra A handbook of possibilities. Basel: Foundation Beyler, 2011, p.58 Catalogue Essay This is one of two known prints. Another print of this image is held in the collection of Centre Georges Pompidou, Paris. For Constantin Brancusi the camera was a versatile means to an end, a way of preservation, allowing him to fix his sculptures in time through a lightweight two-dimensional reproduction, thus creating another type of ‘life’ and perhaps audience for his works. Brancusi’s attitude to the purpose of photography was in many ways contemporary – he recognised it as immediate, flexible, versatile and above all he embraced its ability to produce multiples. He could satisfy his incessant need to make portraits of his works, using whatever camera he could lay his hands on – it has been said that he produced negatives in nine formats or more and on occasion sometimes used a movie camera to experiment with stills. Not technically trained as a photographer, the prints Brancusi ‘crafted’ contain an indelible rawness and energy which is particular and individual. No quest for an artisan printer’s consistency or accuracy of format is evident; instead there is a desire to provide an external view for others and himself into his chaotic sculptural world. What Brancusi seems to be doing is transmitting images, analysing, piecing together data, and obsessively and endlessly looking at and examining his three-dimensional works. The proportion of negatives shot to the amount that were actually printed was far greater. However, his appetite for revisiting some of the images seemed never to be sated, as he printed certain composites a myriad of times, also variously publishing them or gifting them to such notable friends as Edward Steichen This practice indicates that the images on paper provided a metaphorical mirror for Brancusi. Through his own photographic references he could step outside his inner world as an artist and study the dialogue or relationship between objects in his studio or pour over particular features of a face he had sculpted as perhaps we might do when we look in themirror. For Brancusi the portal of photography meant he could test his reaction to his works and if necessary he could then amend. Seeing the two intersecting mediums of sculpture and photography side by side, one begins not only to understand the work but also the man, we see what he liked, what worked for him, how his eye sweeps gently and attentively over the habitués of his studio, making it easy for us to imagine how he so divinely smoothed, carved and re-carved his sublime sensual creations. Read More