Karsh
The Eyes Have It

YOUSEF KARSH WAS born in Mardin (Armenia) a city in the eastern Ottoman Empire, in 1908. Aged only 14, he escaped the horrors of the Turkish massacres of the Armenian minority when his family fled to Syria. Two years later, in 1924, he was sent to Canada, and shortly afterwards began his career under the auspices of his uncle, George Nakash, a photographer based in Quebec. His uncle then arranged for an apprenticeship with a Boston portrait photographer, John Garo, and Yousef spent four years learning the business before returning to Canada to open his own Ottawa studio in 1932.

As he began to establish his studio he got Government commissions to photograph any notable visitors to Ottawa. Then in 1941, his friend and patron, the Prime Minister Mackenzie King, arranged for him to photograph Winston Churchill during the darkest time in England’s stand against Nazi Germany. This single portrait catapulted Karsh to international fame. It was published on the cover of Life magazine and the same image was used on stamps for seven different Commonwealth countries. It is being reproduced this year again as a stamp in honour of Karsh’s centenary.


Thereafter, Yousuf Karsh’s international reputation grew rapidly and famous men and women from all walks of life considered a sitting with him the ultimate accolade. His portrait of President Kennedy was the cover for Life’s memorial issue and he was the first to take official portraits of Nikita Khrushchev and members of the Soviet Praesidium. He photographed the British Royal Family, Pope John Paul II and eminent political figures such as President Eisenhower, Fidel Castro, Jawaharlal Nehru, Eleanor Roosevelt and Martin Luther King. His portrayals of artists, writers and musicians as diverse as Ernest Hemingway, George Bernard Shaw, Pablo Picasso, John Steinbeck, Sibelius, Stravinsky, Pablo Casals, Thomas Mann and Bertrand Russell, are amongst his most successful, long lasting works.

Karsh himself described his mission ‘to photograph the great in heart, in mind and in spirit, whether they be famous or humble’, and his photographic contributions to the cause of handicapped children earned him a Presidential Citation in 1971. He presented his collection of medical and scientific personalities, Healers of Our Age, to the Harvard and Boston Medical Libraries in 1975.

Karsh’s photographs now feature in the permanent collections of the Metropolitan Museum and the Museum of Modern Art in New York, the Art Institute of Chicago, and the National Portrait Gallery in London. He exhibited widely throughout the world, notably a one-man exhibition at the National Gallery of Canada in 1959, and the Men Who Make Our World show at Expo 67, which travelled throughout the USA and Europe. This centenary year began with a Karsh tribute at the National Portrait Gallery in London. Other exhibitions will include Boston, Los Angles, Ottawa, Chicago, and Washington.

Always generous with his help to aspiring photographers, he was a frequent teacher at photographic workshops in America. Karsh was Visiting Professor of Photography at Ohio University and appointed Visiting Professor of Fine Arts at Emerson College, Boston, in 1972.

Karsh worked on the sixth floor of the Chateau Laurier Hotel in Ottawa. This included a reception area and an ante-room, on the walls of which hung huge prints of some of his most famous portraits, including those of Churchill, Georgia O’Keefe and Queen Elizabeth II. The working studio area was a long, thin alcove, two walls painted cream and the third black.

Yousuf Karsh travelled the world with his wife, making unique photographs of famous and interesting people. His images make use of the subject’s own natural environment and concentrate on the eyes and hands to capture the essence of a sitter’s personality. His tried and trusted technique ensured portraits that are honest and straightforward, often of a sombre simplicity that cuts through all superficiality to plumb the subject’s inner depths. In 2002 Karsh was named one of the 100 most notable people of the 20th century and he was delighted to find he had photographed 52 of the other one hundred!

Yousuf Karsh lived for many years in a house outside Ottawa called ‘Little Wings‘, so called because it was on a migratory route for birds. Appointed a Companion of the Order of Canada in 1990, Karsh retired to Boston in 1997, and on July 13, 2002 (at 93 years old) died at Boston's Brigham and Women's Hospital after complications following surgery. He was interred in Notre Dame Cemetery in Ottawa.

‘Look and think before opening the shutter. The heart and mind are the true lens of the camera’ - Yousuf Karsh’s own dictum is the best summary of his art.

Chateau Laurier Hotel
Ottawa 1982

Pat Booth: What made you take up photography?
Yousuf Karsh: Actually, I always wanted to be a doctor. I was born in Armenia and came to Canada in 1924 to go to medical school. My Uncle Nakash arranged for me to come here and I’d hoped he’d put me through college. But he was not as wealthy as I thought, so financially I was on my own. However, he did a great deal for me. He gave me my first camera, a Box Brownie, and encouraged me to take photographs. When I was seventeen, he sent a picture of mine to a photographic competition and I won the first prize of $50. I remember I sent $40 to my family in Armenia and kept the rest for myself. That was really the beginning of my photographic career, because it encouraged me to think that I’d be able to support myself at it. I abandoned all ideas of medicine.

That wasn’t the end of my uncle’s influence. He was very supportive of my photographic ambitions and he arranged for me to go to Boston to work with a photographer friend of his, John Garo. I studied with him for three wonderful years. I learned a lot about photography and a lot about life.

What did you learn from Garo about portraiture?
He was extraordinarily talented. He used only natural daylight in his studio and in my early years I did the same. Later, I discovered the possibilities of tungsten. I was about twenty-four at the time and I’d go to the theatre workshop where my first wife worked as an actress. I’d go to see her perform and was profoundly impressed by the lighting techniques they used. The artistic quality was extremely high. They could produce different moods at will merely by changing the lighting. Nothing seemed to be impossible.

'Steichen was the greatest force, without a doubt… However, I think that Stieglitz was the greater artist'

I started to work on my own technique from that time, using tungsten lights that I made at home. It’s tremendously important to find your own style by endless experimentation, which is why I never lecture students on lighting. You have to discover it for yourself. Once you have, you carry on with it, developing it, until it satisfies you. There are no short cuts. My own lighting is very basic, very simple, but of course I modify it slightly to suit the different needs of the individual subjects. You never truly master the technique of lighting. That’s its fascination. There’s always something new to learn.

In my studio I use tungsten floods or spots, although I always use electronic lighting when I’m away from the studio - which is most of the time. Sometimes I combine flash with daylight.

Can we talk about some of these portraits that hang on the walls of your studio? Perhaps we could start with the famous Churchill image and the equally famous ‘story’ that goes with it?
This photograph signaled the beginning of my international career and it was a frightening experience. I had exactly four minutes to take the picture. I like to meet or at least to see the subject of a portrait before the session, so I’d made a point of listening to the address that Churchill was giving to the Canadian Parliament before hurrying back to the Speaker’s chamber where I’d set up my lighting. The speech was an important one - the ‘some chicken, some neck’ speech - and it gave me a pretty clear idea of Churchill’s personality. It was certainly not an ideal situation: when he came out it appeared that nobody had warned him there would be a photo session and he only allowed me to take a single photograph. After I’d removed the cigar from his mouth he positively exuded belligerence. That’s what I think the photograph captures - the essence of England in those days, unbeaten and unbowed. Later he paid me a great compliment: he said I had the power to still the roaring lion!

Do you always manage to take your subjects in four minutes?
No. But sometimes the longer you have with a subject the less able you are to get a powerful shot. I was in the Oval Office with President Carter for three hours, for example, and I’ve never been satisfied with the results. I’ve never published those photographs in any of my books, either.

How important is getting to know your subject before the sitting?
Very. I like to prepare myself and to research the subject for several reasons. If I’ve made the effort to find out all about the sitter beforehand, it enables me to build rapport, which helps to reveal the personality. Also, I’m extremely privileged to meet the most fascinating people through my work and I’m naturally interested to find out about them, their motivation and their feelings. Research is essential if you’re to establish a good relationship.

Tell me about the portrait of Georgia O’Keefe.
I photographed her in Abiquiu, New Mexico, in 1956. The most interesting facet of her personality was her incredible dedication to her work and the stark austerity of her approach to it. She has no time to spare for people, not because she doesn’t like them, but because she loves her painting more, and every moment spent with people means less time for her art. My portrait had to reflect those qualities - simplicity, austerity, dedication - so I caught her in profile, making a point of her strong hands. White hands against the black dress give the impression of calm serenity, and yet her determination comes across as well.

You obviously admired her very much…
Yes. I was tremendously impressed by her single-mindedness and her powers of concentration. With her, too, there was that meeting of minds - without which it’s very difficult to take a really great portrait.

You must have achieved that rapport with Helen Keller, despite her disabilities.
She was the most spiritually uplifting woman I’ve ever met. An inner light seemed to shine from her. She’d been totally blind and deaf from earliest childhood, but her outstanding quality, even more than her kindness and understanding, was her gaiety. When I first met her she ran her hands over my face so she could see me in her mind. Later, I was able to communicate with her and direct the sitting by the very slightest pressure of my finger tips on her palms. All the lost powers of sight and hearing had passed into her hands, so it was just as important to capture them in the portrait as it was to record the image of her face.

Tell me about your famous - if not controversial - portrait of Pablo Casals.
This photograph was shot in the Abbey of St Miguel de Cuxa. The only light source in the dark, dingy room was a single electric bulb, though luckily I was able to find a power source for my strobe unit. All through the session Casals played the most sublime music on his cello, while I worked around him. It was a magical experience. Suddenly I decided to experiment and take a photograph from behind him. I think this portrait captures the immense physical and spiritual power that flowed from this genius of a musician.

Do you ever work in colour?
I prefer not to, although I often repeat a black-and-white portrait in colour if there’s time. I find colour more difficult to control. It’s not so easy to imprint your own artistic style on the picture. You can’t change your mind, as it were. You’re at the mercy of Kodak’s laboratory. I think these pictures should be called Kodak reproductions, not the photographer’s. If I do use colour it’s usually Kodachrome or Ektachrome, most often 64 ASA.

What equipment do you use?
Usually a 10 x 8 - often a 5 x 4 view camera. For 35mm work I use a Leica. In the past I’ve often used a Rolleiflex. I use Tri-X 400 film for the black-and-white portraits, although I’m very dissatisfied with the printing paper that’s available nowadays. It has many limitations. I always develop my own film. In my small dark-room, I have a device that allows me to gauge from the negative the degree of exposure, from which I can deduce the optimum degree of development. It looks like a long shoe box with the top removed and replaced with two pieces of glass, one for 2 ¼ square film and the other for 5 x 4 or 10 x 8. There’s a green filter across the front of the box. After exposure, I soften up the film in a water bath. Then it gets two minutes in a Kodak desensitiser, which is kept at an average temperature of 68 degrees. After removing the negative from the desensitiser, I hold it up to the light box to assess the development it needs. This is the vital stage, and because it’s so important I never delegate the responsibility.

Do you bother with exposure meters?
I read them from time to time, but I only use them if they agree with what I judge to be the right exposure.

So basically, you favour simplicity and straightforwardness in technique?
Yes. Very great photographs can be taken using simple cameras and daylight. There’s much more to taking a good portrait than mere technique. You must have an understanding of people, of why they do things. You must learn to recognize their essential qualities and know how to capture them. You must be able to get on with your subject. When you are in possession of all these qualities, then and only then you can take a photograph.

You should also be totally at home with your equipment through constant practice. Your methods must be right for others. That’s why I’m never very keen to dwell on my methods and techniques. It’s not that I’m secretive about them, merely that they’re vitally important to me. There’s no substitute for practice. You only find out about people and how to use cameras through trial and error. That’s the only way to discover your own individuality. It’s more important to know about life than about photographic technique in portraiture. And using the camera must become second nature. You shouldn’t have to think too much about it.

Which photographers do you most admire?
Garo, of course. But Steichen was the greatest force, without a doubt. He was a close friend. However, I think that Stieglitz was the greater artist.

Your prints are now very valuable. How do you deal with that?
I keep all my negatives in a fireproof bank vault. Arson is very popular in Ottawa! I keep some prints in my archives here, but they haven’t been properly fixed, so they have to be kept in the dark most of the time or they’ll be lost. Like this one of Jean Cocteau, for example - it even has his spidery signature on the back.

You’ve taken many pictures of the British Royal Family and they’re great admirers of your work. What do you think of the work of a ‘royal’ photographer like Patrick Lichfield?
I had dinner with him on my last visit to London. I have great respect for him both as a photographer and as a man. I find it amazing that he’s been able to overcome the obstacle to his professional career of being a cousin of the Queen.

As we walked around Ottawa this afternoon many people came up to speak to you. What do you feel about the concept of fame - your own and others?
I am known here because Ottawa is very small, like a village - a wonderful place. I am fascinated by what makes people great. It seems that great talent isn’t enough. There must be something else - inspiration, dedication. You get a sense of it from people, but it’s very intangible. I suppose it’s a sort of inner strength that communicates itself and leaves its mark. Those who possess it may be a little arrogant and usually competitive but they share a curiosity, the search for truth. I’m tremendously pleased to have had the chance to meet so many of the most interesting and forceful people of our age. Not many others have had that opportunity…


Photoicon gratefully acknowledges the assistance of Jacqui Wald and Camera Press in the preparation of this feature article.