PHOTOGRAPHS

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B\ GARTIER-BRESSON
PHOTOGRAPHS
BY CARTIER-BRESSON
W i t h Introductions By

Lincoln Kirstein

Beaumont Newhall

G r o s s m a n Publishers

New York 1963

ACKNOWLEDGMENT
I w i s h to thank Monroe W h e e l e r , Director of
Exhibitions a n d Publications of T h e M u s e u m
of M o d e r n Art, for his assistance in p r e p a r i n g
t h e p r e s e n t v o l u m e , w h i c h is a n e w version
of the book p u b l i s h e d b y the M u s e u m at the
time of its exhibition of m y w o r k in 1947.
Henri Cartier-Bresson

T o m y friends.
H. C.-B.

C o p y r i g h t 1963 b y Henri Cartier-Bresson

All rights r e s e r v e d . P r i n t e d in F r a n c e
L i b r a r y of Congress Catalog Card Number: 6 3 - 1 9 0 3 4
HENRI CARTIER-BRESSON
By Lincoln Kirstein

Over the last thirty years, the photography of Henri Cartier-Bresson has
resulted in a body of work unique in the history of this craft, not alone
in kind but in quality. Apart from the fact that he is responsible for
more individual memorable images than any other photographer in his
epoch, his attitude towards his art. for with him it is also and most
definitely an art as well as a craft-skill in reportage, is based on a philo-
sophy at once traditional, logical and exemplary. From his personal
working rationale we may learn much of the precise limitations and
extensive possibilities of camera usage. C a r t i e r - B r e s s o n ^ own method
comprises a principia photographica by which many o t h e r pictures and
photographers may be considered. It is a legible, t r a n s m i t t a b l e analytical
means which, focused on ephemeral material, nevertheless has its
p e r m a n e n t steady support.
T h e r e have been confusions about the valid function of photography
ever since its invention. As a visual approach, it has been identified or
called into competition with drawing, painting and illustration. It has
been of use to painters, while some of its practitioners have considered
themselves as competing with m a s t e r s of plastic line and color. It
certainly has been of inestimable use to scientists and historians ; the
vividness of old photographs has no substitute for candor, even accepting
the f r a g m e n t a r y or accidental nature of their frame. But the service of
the c a m e r a has its own set of characteristic values and services and
Cartier-Bresson has never been confused in his own mind as to what
these were. His clarity of purpose and direct simplicity of vision does
m u c h to distinguish an identity for the camera's unique employment.
It is his pervading philosophy towards his work that is important r a t h e r
than any mastery in formal or manual dexterity. His mind and eye are
always o n the point of focused historical discovery, the X that marks
the spot where time and space cross in a potential explosion, which can
illuminate some facet of our behavior in our time and our places, over
t h r e e decades, in very many areas of the world. He works f r o m Mind
and Eye, but his everything is aimed at a Here and Now. Space, for
him, is where he can manage to anticipate or triangulate a spot f r o m
which he can press his s h u t t e r ; time, for him, is the chosen instant in
a continuum of p r e p a r a t o r y m o m e n t s when he can finally press. The
original talent, or source or control of the choice of a Here and Now, is
the quality of taste implicit in his energy, or curiosity in the historical
or psychological material, a curiosity which is an insatiable greed for
seeing and trying to know. Photography, to him, is merely one m e a n s
of discovery, in his case an implementation of his gifts for intellectual
analysis. Ultimately, this energy is the capacity for a comprehension of
history, of life in time, of the time in our place, rather than any special
aesthetic, visual or plastic sensibility, which makes his best shots
unforgettable. The historian a t t e m p t s to grasp all accident and incident
significant of the great circumstances of a chosen epoch. W i t h Cartier-
Bresson, it is his own. But his peculiar distinction is that he knows
history is a continuum, that the points in time at which he feels his
fingers can press, have been preceded by all the factors that make some
crucial m o m e n t , of many m o m e n t s , decisive. He presupposes as much
of t h e past as is philosophically useful, the relevancy of which intensifies
its culminating significance.

The files of Cartier-Bresson's photographs are like a painter's sketch-

books, a musician's notations or a novelist's journals. A single picture
cannot be equated with one painting, one quartet or one novel, but the
attitude of the visual historian, his underlying morality and geometrical
intention combine in a stance as 'dignified and powerful as other art.
And, as in the other plastic a r t s , geometry is the supreme pleasure, the
corroboration of absolute s t r u c t u r e s , eliminating coincidence. T o the
classical artist there is no coincidence and few happy or unhappy
accidents, except as these are reduced to the j u s t alignment of properly
selected or edited elements. The inevitability of the finest pictures
resides in the fact t h a t these are self-framed in an extra aura of heightened
meaning by their combination of emotional, social and psychological
factors frozen in the precision of the underlying rectitude of geometric
placement. The value and significance of the picture finally taken derives
from a fusion in crisis of these elements ; the ultimate image, snapped
at the peak of choice, is fixed through a complex chemistry of moral and
muscular explosions, like an orgasm.
While photography to Cartier-Bresson is constantly an intuitive process,
it is never purely instinctive. It is founded on continual intellection, on
ceaseless consideration during all m o m e n t s previous to, or p r e p a r a t o r y
for, the pressing. It does not only operate in the blinding flash of an
image seized ; it works all the time. The snatched picture merely cuts
across a vein of observable incident or accident which is always beating,
w h e t h e r or not the fingers actually press.
His intellectual approach, as distinct from a romantic one, is the steady
conscious reconciliation and distillation of sympathy, sensibility and
intelligence. T h e r e is the p e r m a n e n t effort to reach towards underlying
laws and governing principles. This search is to find an unshakable or
seemingly inevitable t r u t h bv the manipulation or arrest of accident,
through the a r r a n g e m e n t of important f r a g m e n t a r y details, all of which
contribute towards one whole image of some symbolic t r u t h ; a partial
truth, to be sure, but one which can often stand for or point to a larger,
more complete fact. All images are by no means memorable. Cartier-
Bresson has never been interested in the sheerly picturesque, the textural,
the charming or the shocking. He has not been occupied by the rendering
or presentation of surfaces, a t m o s p h e r e or decoration ; he has used these
only in their widest implication and reference, never in themselves, for
themselves, but as s u p p o r t s to some central o v e r m a s t e r i n g general fact.
T h e r e is, in his best work, a sense of the concrete, the finite, the precise,
but by no means in the m a t t e r of focus, hard or soft : his concretion is
never in the rigid or correct use of a lens but in his choice and combi-
nation of fact. He has always been r a t h e r loose as far as formal technique
goes : his c a m e r a s or lenses are no more to him than any standard brand
of any practicable or serviceable brush, chisel or crayon. He may have
some habitual preference for an i n s t r u m e n t that seems comfortable to
carry, but t h e r e is no finicking or over-fastidious elevation of the crafts
in photography as something of themselves or in themselves.
For him any camera is interested in what happens Here and Now. The
now, now, now is an endlessly unrolling film which only stops itself at
the one split-second of potential seizure ; this now, now, now is imme-
diately superseded ; choice is constant, but capture is rare. He employs
no gimmicks of craft, tricky composition, negative inversion ; cropping
is slight. Artistic, or artificed t r e a t m e n t , if any, is primary and simple,
like a head-on collision. He is not making art, but taking life. Simple
clarity, a grave economy of means, a Gallic frugality which is never
u n g e n e r o u s , are the native attributes of the French classic tradition; the
commonplace exists eternally to be discovered, uncovered, recovered.
Subject m a t t e r is rarely the exotic. It is the ordinary, the banal, t h e
vulgar t h a t by reassociation and selection assumes a strangeness, a
magic which reorganizes the commonplace into splendor. Simple is the
most expensive word in any language : expensive, not in the t e r m s of
money spent, but in the expenditure of thought, time and experience to
produce the irreducible elegance of fashion, cooking, theater or philo-
sophy : the simple d i n n e r - d r e s s ; the simple omelette or souffle; simple
dialogue, proportions or aphorisms. Cartier-Bresson hates rhetoric and
m e l o d r a m a but loves the theater of virtuosity, of discreet but absolute
oppositions, of hidden b u t massive conflict, as in Racine. The French
classical attitude approaches the scientific, par mesure ; but his photo-
graphs are never clinical documents. The clinical approach is also
slanted, prejudiced and partial; it is moralistic but by no means dispas-
sionate. Cartier-Bresson's eye is w a r m and lyrical, even at its most
penetrating and surgical.

He has been described as having a constant boxing match with t i m e ;

time is both opponent and p a r t n e r ; time has to be punched and knocked
down ; one dances around an instant of time waiting for an opening, to
fix, a r r e s t , conquer, for all photography is in or through time to an
entirely different degree and in an entirely different dimension from
other visual, plastic media. Time develops ; it irritates, exacerbates
its own self-induced anxiety f r o m which the photographer is released
only by the f r a m i n g of its fragments, which can sometimes seem to give
it a meaning. Cartier-Bresson is always taking pictures, whether or not
he has a camera in his hand. In his life, he has often endured the
exquisite t o r t u r e of being in a magnificent strategic position on some
memorable occasion, unable to use his lens. Sometimes, an occasion
daunts him and a face defeats him. But the process of observation
continues, like breathing. The fact that no picture results is incidental.
For him, still life is not a s u b j e c t ; nature is never inert or dead ; corpses
are not dead, nor brick, nor stone ; the only death is in the lack of
meaning or reference. And there is much that is quite meaningless in
passive pictures, w h e t h e r portraits of people, places or fruit. Each
putative vision is weighed, second by second, in its endless sequence ;
one makes an a t t e m p t at capturing it at its peak of correspondence, but
the sequence exists before and continues after the lens is clicked. The
evanescent, the floating world of the Japanese popular prints, flows by
as if expressly to be stopped by some artist's eye. Cartier-Bresson
believes that the only microscopic part of the photographic process
which can be remotely described as pf creative " is that fractional instant
when the photographer feels : Yes. Now.
For him, taking photographs is a long series of love affairs with images,
or r a t h e r a grand liaison with the mosaic in history, in which flirtation,
rejection, attraction, revulsion and finally a seductive acceptance of some
sort, are involved. The object or image has its own life and laws, is
intractable, must be seduced. It can be stopped short in its tracks, but
never violated. The energy to live the image in its integrity is nourished
from a given analytical prediliction. Cartier-Bresson hates rules but
loves principles. The concept comes f i r s t ; the firmer the conviction the
less chance of fumbling, of losing the shot. The paradox is how not to
fumble or mangle the kaleidoscopic flux of shifting form and shape.
Metamorphosis is a p e r m a n e n t condition ; nothing stays the same for
two seconds ; the shadow boxing is forever, clinches few and far between.
Sometimes, in spite of the most restless watching or patient observation,
the image evades one ; it beckons, promises, but vanishes abruptly, and
never to return. It cannot be recaptured. This is the hazard and
excitement of the game. Nevertheless, the object is not an enemy but
a quarry. Cartier-Bresson has the professional hunter's respect for
reality in all its odd manifestations, both when it permits itself to be
trapped and when it is too grand for capture.
It is inescapable that his attitude is French, for he is a Frenchman, and
a certain sort of Frenchman. It has been said of him : C'est un Jesuite-
Protestant. And he does exude a flexible rectitude, a supple censure ;
coolness ; a knowledge of how this world is run, who runs it, and with
that sense of irreducible morality which is normal to all lovers of
Stendhal and Saint-Simon. The courts of Napoleon 1 and Louis XIV
were magnificent academies of social realism. They established and
maintained the taste of the world in fashion and politics. These were,
hereditarily, also Cartier-Bresson's schools too, and in such one learns
the basic logic and wisdom of the W e s t : how m e n say they behave, how
they p r e t e n d to behave, and Flow they do behave; what fr stands to
reason what is c o m m o n sense " : ultimately, what is true. For
Cartier-Bresson is a moralist. He is not interested in the propriety of
an ethic, but in les masurs, the actual, essential behavior of men. He has
a r r a n g e d images of m e n ' s behavior, images of enough intensity to merit
the isolation, magic and inexhaustible mystery of symbols. His element
is the visual dimension of time, for he was trained in visual disciplines.
He studied painting u n d e r Andre Lhote, a good painter and a great
pedagogue. Lhote established a useful method f r o m the analytical
exercises of Cezanne and the Cubists; geometry was the mastering
philosophy. F r o m his early youth Cartier-Bresson had looked at
paintings. He always looks at painting, not for profit but for pleasure.
He does not absorb himself in pictures as a substitute for not being
himself a painter, although he has and still does paint. He does not look
at pictures made of paint so that his photographs may ultimately appro-
priate some of the plastic or pictorial values of a painting. The plastic
and formal content of painting and photography do not overlap. The
function of paint, no m a t t e r how complete the retinal, or total visual
effect and however r r magically real is never the t r u e function of the
camera. In the best photographs there is no possibility of the same
event being seen in a different w a y ; this is never more clear than in
the familiar juxtapositions of snapshots of Mont Saint-Victoire with
Cezanne's assimilations of the same subject. Paintings and sculptures
are distillations, syntheses, generalizations in time. The very n a t u r e
of photography is to be particularized, i m p e r m a n e n t and f r a g m e n t a r y ,
but one can reconstitute a dinosaur f r o m a tooth and a dynasty from a
shard. The photographs that, increasingly, have come to be stage-
managed and artificially set up, or that a t t e m p t to do what paint can
uniquely do, betray themselves in the most pitiful way possible. T h e i r
inadequacy is the failure of all tour deforce; they end up as bores. They
are primarily unsuitable for f r a m i n g or any decorative use ; their chief
purpose is to be accessories to the luxury trades in advertising. But
the difference between the r r pure " reportage of Cartier-Bresson and
the generality of most news and picture stories is in the quality of the
governing imagination, which is as apparent as character in handwriting
or a face. Cartier-Bresson's picture stories have his personality,
unmistakably for their concentration, the monumentality in their
candor, the scale of related objects, people, weather. His best pictures
have a secret a t m o s p h e r e of the invisible eavesdropper who watches
people at their most private preoccupations, as if the m i r r o r s they
 searched for their most intimate answers photographed t h e m in the act
of questioning.
It is by no accident that among his favorite writers are Saint-Simon and
Stendhal. Like them, he has a t t e m p t e d to assess the lyric essence in
history, the lyric, r a t h e r than the tragic or the comic. He is not even
an ironist, for irony also, like the clinical approach, presupposes a partial
j u d g e m e n t . Irony can be a cheap formula and one that has been prone
to photographic exploitation ; but after the first amused surprise, the
c o m m e n t is thin and there is little to support f u r t h e r interest except the
juxtaposition of ill-fitting opposites. The comedy, tragedy or irony of
inadequacy, delinquency or disappointing behavior presupposes a kind of
criticism which is unsophisticated. The ironist assumes too readily the
superficial declensions of Good and Bad; the j u d g e m e n t is too r e a d y ;
it becomes presupposed, the corroboration of the s p e c t a t o r ' s triggered
prejudices. The only j u d g e m e n t Cartier-Bresson makes is in forthright
presentation in the t e r m s of the behaving actor ; the j u d g e s are the
actors themselves, not their spectators. The most exotic of faces, the
most gross, delicate, harsh or t e n d e r would find nothing remarkable in
his portraits of them. Photographed, t h e r e is no m o r e apparent art here
than in a passport-photo. It is by their relation or reference to the
surrounding world that any comment is added. And c o m m e n t on Right
and Wrong, Good and Evil, even Old and New is awkward to make for
one whom Mongolia, Moscow, Mississipi, Mexico and Marseilles are as
familiar as one's backyard. His lyric vision, in contradistinction to the
ironic, imprisons or captures for a second some ever-recurring and ever-
disappearing crisis in human action in the unbroken temporal chain of
historical definition.

... That is why, in their Dual Realm,

Banalities can be beautiful.
Why nothing is too big or too small or the wrong
Color, and the roar of an e a r t h q u a k e
Rearranging the whispers of streams a loud sound
Not a din : but we, at haphazard
And unseasonably, are brought face to face
By ones, Clio, with your silence. After that
Nothing is easy... *

As he assimilated a useful plastic analysis from Andre Lhote, Cartier-

Bresson also profited greatly from his close association with the great
film director, Jean Renoir, who, incidentally was a painter's heir. In
1938-1939, he assisted on the scenario, dialogue and shooting of the film
La Regie du Jeu (Rules of the Game). It was made on the brink of war ;
its reception was s m o t h e r e d in the real events which it foreshadowed
by a sort of philosophical clairvoyance. It may be compared in essential
quality and significance to Beaumarchais' Mariage de Figaro, which
has its definite importance as an honorable indication of the climate of
thought anticipating the Revolution of 1789.
Cartier-Bresson has himself m a d e documentary films, but feels he is
primarily a still photographer. He rarely sees a motion picture. Still
photography is his chosen discipline; he embraces with pleasure its
essentially limited frame. It is a modest, self-contained m e d i u m ; it has
neither the audience nor a p p a r a t u s of cinema. One must accept dealing
with a r a t h e r primitive mechanical i n s t r u m e n t , but in using it one is
quite i n d e p e n d e n t ; there is no call for elaborate financing the mani-
pulation of stars like real e s t a t e or repaying the investors. The still
camera takes only one f r a m e at a time. Nor is it a camel's hair brush
which lays on imperceptible thicknesses of form and color, all of which
can be wiped out with a solvent; nor is it a chisel which can cut almost
imperceptibly, shaping or reducing. The camera eye avidly accepts a
whole, however tiny or f r a g m e n t e d . Editing and manipulation is in the
choice of the Moment i t s e l f ; the press, the click. Cartier-Bresson knows
and accepts these limitations not as strictures but as possibilities. He
acknowledges the machine and its mechanics ; he abides with t h e m .
Liberty for him is not alone a correspondence to necessity, or the answer
to what is required at a given point in action, but a discreet f r a m e ,
within which there are infinite variations and chances : Photography-
is for me the development of a plastic medium, based on the pleasure of
observing and the ability to capture a decisive moment in a constant
struggle with time."

* " H o m a g e to C l i o " , by W . H. Auden, R a n d o m Mouse, New York, 1960.

A VELVET HAND, A H A W K ' S EYE : CARTIER-BRESSON AT WORK
By Beaumont Newhall

" A velvet hand, a hawk's e y e . . . " , thus Cartier-Bresson describes his

approach in The Decisive Moment. He will tell you that technique is one
of the means by which one can attain the utmost clarity, by which one
can f o r m a style. But he will immediately warn you that technique does
not exist in the abstract, and should not be cultivated for its own sake.
You must have a point of view, he emphasizes. Technique becomes a
part of style, as closely related as form and content, in photography as
well as all the other plastic arts.
Cartier-Bresson has a profound respect for reality, and has developed
a way of working without intrusion, silently, almost on tiptoe. Some-
times it almost s e e m s as if he were endowed with a magic cloak of
invisibility. W e have walked with him through the s t r e e t s of New York
and Paris and suddenly he will have disappeared ; a few minutes later
we will come upon him, patiently waiting for us. In this short interval
he has been photographing. Because of his respect for the subject and
his need to pass unnoticed wherever he goes, he never uses flashlight.
To use a flash, he says, is not polite : it is like coming to a concert with
a pistol in your hand. For his type of work its domineering light destroys
what we see, disturbs reality and upsets that delicate balance which
makes the captured moment the decisive one.
Ever since 1932 he has used a Leica camera. Currently an M-3 is his
constant companion. He has covered its beautiful brushed chrome with
black tape, to make it less conspicuous. He carries it without a case,
the lens protected with a lens cap on a string. He holds the camera in
his hand, or nested in the crook of his a r m , ready for instant action.
It would be too inaccessible, he says, slung around his neck, or dangling
from his shoulder and too conspicuous, too. Once, lunching with
friends at a r e s t a u r a n t , he suddenly pushed back his chair, put his camera
to his eye, snapped the s h u t t e r , and sat down without even interrupting
the table conversation. He had seen, while talking, a famous painter.
Days later, we saw the-photograph he had taken. It seemed, in its direct
simplicity and in its penetration, the product of a formal portrait sitting.
Like so many photographers he will compare shooting with a camera and
with a gun. He will point out that when a flock of partridges flies within
range, a good hunter will select one bird and bring it down intact. So
with camera shooting, except that the photographer does not kill. " The
picture is good or n o t " , he says, from the moment it was caught in
the camera. Cropping will not save a bad picture, because a picture is
done by situating oneself in time and space. A mistake made then is
irreparable. The whole relation in a f r a m e changes if you bend slightly
forward, backward, to the right, to the left la petite difference."
He is impatient with that plague of the miniature camera, over-shooting.
So rapidly can exposures be m a d e with these convenient cameras that
the p h o t o g r a p h e r is all-too-often t e m p t e d to shoot indiscriminately, in
the hope that at least some of the pictures will be outstanding. This he
deplores. Yet he does not hesitate to take many exposures. The very
act of photographing heightens his perception as he follows the subject
t h r o u g h the viewfinder. He and his camera, which he likes to call f the
extension of the e y e " , are one. He is like a boxer, sparring with a n
opponent, or a fencer parrying, ready for the lunge.
He carries a m i n i m u m of equipment, for he feels that a n economy of
m e a n s forces me to be m o r e r i g o r o u s . " For most pictures he uses an
f / 2 (occasionally an f / 1 . 4 ) 50 m m lens. Over his shoulder in a small,
well-worn bag, he also carries a 35 mm, f / 2 wide angle lens and a 90 m m
f / 2 . 8 lens which he uses whenever he feels the composition of the
f r a m e r e q u i r e s t h e m plus five rolls of film, four of medium speed and
one of extremely high speed for use in dim light. Because the wide angle
lens covers so large an area, he does not use it often : he says that it is
m o r e difficult to find that balance of f o r m and content which is the
essence of his style in a larger area than a smaller one, f u r t h e r m o r e the
wide angle lens distorts. Nor does he often use the 90 m m lens, for it
poses problems of d e p t h of field and, working at a distance, he finds
himself too r e m o t e f r o m his subject. But there are m o m e n t s when only
these special lenses will f o r m the images which he needs, and on
assignment he goes p r e p a r e d .

He also carries at times in his hip pocket the body of a second Leica M-3
c a m e r a , into which he can fit any of the three lenses. Thus he can work
with two different kinds of film, one in each camera. If color is t o be
shot, the extra body is loaded with color film.
Although he has produced m a s t e r f u l color pictures, Cartier-Bresson does
not care for color. He feels t h a t , working as he insists directly with
reality, the chance for control, with present technical development of
color photography, is negligible.
His film is processed by technicians who follow his instructions. He feels
that his time should be spent with his camera and not in the darkroom.
Each film contains 36 1 X l i inch negatives. As a proof, all of t h e m
are first printed without enlarging on a single 8 X 10 inch sheet of
photographic paper. These fr contact sheets " of images the size of
postage stamps he then studies intensely through a magnifying glass.
He marks the f r a m e s to be enlarged. In Paris and New York he has
printers trained to produce prints with those rich middle grays and
those accents of black and white which he prefers.
Contact sheets to Cartier-Bresson are visual indices to a p h o t o g r a p h e r ' s
style; ? f they tell everything of your t h i n k i n g " , he says. W h e n younger
photographers seek his advice, he asks to see their contact sheets, for
in t h e m is the flow of a m a n ' s vision. It is noteworthy t h a t in his own
contact s h e e t s the best pictures of a sequence almost always are the last.
A beginner's sheet will show how much was due to chance, and how
m u c h was the result of deliberate shooting to a climax. He respects the
privacy of these disclosures, and reads contact sheets in confidence.
He feels that photographers should self-edit t h e m before submitting
t h e m to anybody magazine editors in particular.
Although his photographs appear in print all over the world, Cartier-
Bresson's avowed reason for photographing is entirely personal. fe My
every-day w o r k " , he says, ff is like keeping a diary an almost daily
record of i m a g e s . " He finds in the intense observation of the world
t h r o u g h his camera and the recognition of the decisive m o m e n t the
greatest pleasure and satisfaction.
ece S r i n a g a r , K a s h m i r , 1948.
2 Brussels, 1932.
3 Gypsies, Andalusia, 1933.
4 U n e m p l o y e d , Madrid, 1933.
5 Callejon of t h e Valencia a r e n a , 1933.
6 C o r d o b a , 1933.
7 Taxi d r i v e r s , Berlin, 1932.
8 C u a u h c t e m o c z t i n s t r e e t , Mexico City, 1934.
9 Mexico, 1934.
10 Seville, 1933.
11 O u t i n g of a s e m i n a r y n e a r Burgos, 1953.
12 G y m n a s t i c s in r e f u g e e c a m p , K u r u k s c h e t r a , P u n j a b , India, 1947.
1 3 Barrio Chino, Barcelona, 1933.
14 Valencia, 1933.
15 M a d r i d , 1933.
16 M a r k e t in T h e b e s , Egypt, 1950.
17 Banks of the M a r n e , 1935.
18 Tivoli, Italy, 1933.
19 Dingle Peninsula, Ireland, 1953.
20 Interval at the G l y n d e b o u r n e Festival, England, 1955.
2 1 At the C u r r a g h r a c e t r a k , Dublin, 1955.
22 Castille, Spain, 1953.
2 3 C h r i s t m a s m i d n i g h t m a s s , S c a n n o , Abruzzi, 1953.
24 Seville, 1933.
25 C a n t e e n for c o n s t r u c t i o n w o r k e r s , Moscow, 1954.
26 E u n u c h , f o r m e r s e r v a n t in t h e Imperial C o u r t of the last dynasty, Peking, 1949.
27 Peking, 1949.
28 S h a n g h a i , w h e n gold was placed o n sale d u r i n g t h e last days of the K u o m i n t a n g , 1948.
29 P a r i s , 1932.
3 0 At the c o r o n a t i o n p a r a d e of G e o r g e VI, T r a f a l g a r S q u a r e , L o n d o n , 1938.
31 Palais Royal, Paris, 1960.
32 Hyde P a r k , L o n d o n , 1938.
3 3 N e a r the hall of r e c o r d s . New York, 1947.
34 Jean-Paul S a r t r e on the P o n t des A r t s , P a r i s , 1946.
3 5 Boston C o m m o n , 1947.
3 6 Exposing a stool pigeon for the G e s t a p o in a displaced persons c a m p , D e s s a u , 1945.
37 Cardinal Pacelli, later P o p e Pius XII, visiting t h e basilica of M o n t m a r t r e , 1938.
3 8 A c a d e m i c i a n arriving at N o t r e D a m e , Paris, 1954.
39 T e n n e s s e e , 1947.
4 0 William F a u l k n e r , Oxford, Mississippi, 1947.
41 Henri Matisse, Vence, 1944.
4 2 Alberto Giacometti, 1961.
43 Francois Mauriac, 1959.
44 M. and Mme Joliot-Curie, Paris, 1946.
4 5 Dieppe, 1929. ,
46 S u n d a y m o r n i n g e r r a n d , r u e M o u f f e t a r d , Paris, 1958.
47 Behind C a r e St. Lazare, Paris, 1932.
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