Few photography stories begin with a discovery worthy of an adventure film. Yet when Philippe Halsman’s grandson, Oliver, opened a long-forgotten wooden crate tucked away in a corner of the family archive, he uncovered a remarkable missing chapter in the life of one of the twentieth century’s most celebrated photographers. Thought lost during the upheaval of the Second World War, the crate contained hundreds of glass plate negatives from Halsman’s formative years in 1930s Paris.
Published for the first time in Philippe Halsman: The French Crate, these rediscovered photographs reveal a young photographer honing the sharp eye and psychological insight that would later define his iconic portraits of Albert Einstein, Marilyn Monroe and Salvador Dalí. We spoke to Oliver Halsman Rosenberg about the extraordinary discovery, the process of bringing the photographs to light, and what these long-hidden images reveal about his grandfather’s enduring legacy.
Philippe Halsman, Halsman’s studio press photo. © Philippe Halsman Estate
The discovery of the crate feels almost mythical. Can you tell us about the moment you first encountered these forgotten glass plates, and what it was like to realize you were looking at unseen work by your grandfather?
Oliver Halsman Rosenberg (OHR): I was in the middle of a deadline to organize all of my grandparent’s photographs, equipment, and a lifetime of possessions of their large photo studio/home before we had to move out. The crate that held the glass plates was in the far corner of a room I had been excavating layer by layer over a series of months. From the outside it was a simple wooden box with a fragile sign stencilled on the side. At first I thought it may be the wine glasses that I heard Hitchcock had sent my grandfather in the 1960s. When I opened its lid, I felt like I was in the scene from Indiana Jones. As it dawned on me what I was looking at, I knew I had rediscovered a missing piece of my grandfather’s photographic story that we all thought had been lost in World War II. I also found a trunk full of 1930s Paris-era prints and negatives in the same room. It was like discovering gold.
When I opened its lid, I felt like I was in the scene from Indiana Jones. As it dawned on me what I was looking at, I knew I had rediscovered a missing piece of my grandfather’s photographic story that we all thought had been lost in World War II. – Oliver Halsman Rosenberg
Many readers will know Philippe Halsman through his iconic portraits of figures such as Marilyn Monroe, Albert Einstein and Salvador Dalí. What surprised you most about these earlier Paris photographs, and what do they reveal about the photographer he would later become?
OHR: I had read many of his autobiographies where he described that time period… his first clients, experimenting with lights, and his trial-and-error process as he transitioned from engineering student to photographer. To actually see (and hold) his original objects from this period was illuminating. I recognized many of the poses he was trying on French models that we would later see him do with Grace Kelly and others. All of the lighting he perfected with his coiffure (hairstyle) series would later give him an advantage when photographing movie stars.
Left: Philippe Halsman, Model. | Right: Philippe Halsman, Mademoiselle Anne Laurent. © Philippe Halsman Estate
The images in The French Crate capture Paris during a period of profound cultural and political change. Looking through the archive today, what struck you most about the city your grandfather photographed and the people who inhabited it?
OHR: I was struck by the diversity of his friends, clients and models. I love the fashion and style of his subjects. Paris in the 1930s was the artistic capital of the world and seemed like an inspiring place and time to live and work.
Currently photography is so disposable in the sense you can squeeze off a thousand photos in a minute, but the glass plates were fragile and needed to be changed individually for each shot, so the process of photography itself was slower. Halsman needed to provoke or wait for the decisive moment as a part of his psychological portraiture technique. – Oliver Halsman Rosenberg
This book highlights the material nature of analogue photography, from glass plates to darkroom prints. In an age of instantaneous digital images, what do these objects tell us about the craft, patience and experimentation that shaped Halsman’s practice?
OHR: It’s the bicentennial of photography this year, so it’s very timely to bring to light Halsman’s earliest body of work. Having personally lived through the digital transition, it was really fascinating to turn my attention to the era of glass plate negatives. Currently photography is so disposable in the sense you can squeeze off a thousand photos in a minute, but the glass plates were fragile and needed to be changed individually for each shot, so the process of photography itself was slower. Halsman needed to provoke or wait for the decisive moment as a part of his psychological portraiture technique. He ended up inventing his own camera to be able to shoot even faster. Often, we are left only with images from the past, but the French crate contained the original boxes he stored the plates in, so I wanted the materiality of the time to be a part of the book as well, transporting the viewer back in time to when shooting on glass plates was the norm.
Left: Philippe Halsman, Madam Odette Z. | Philippe Halsman, Claude Delacroix, actor. © Philippe Halsman Estate
As both a family member and the custodian of this rediscovered archive, how did you balance the personal and professional responsibilities of bringing these photographs to publication? Did the project change your understanding of your grandfather’s legacy?
OHR: The lines of my life between personal and professional responsibilities have totally blurred at this point. My family is sitting on so much amazing unseen work, that I’m doing my best to bring to light as much as I can before time runs out. We have another T&H book in the works, and I am also working on a Halsman documentary film. Discovering this work was critical to understanding his origin story and will play a role in the film to flesh out his formative years.
In Halsman’s autobiography he wrote how the dominant photo style in Paris in the 1930s was soft and diffused portraits. He went against the grain and considered himself a rebel because he prioritized portraits with a sharp focus. – Oliver Halsman Rosenberg
Beyond the historical significance of the archive, what do you hope contemporary audiences will take away from The French Crate? Why do you think these images still resonate nearly a century after they were made?
OHR: In Halsman’s autobiography he wrote how the dominant photo style in Paris in the 1930s was soft and diffused portraits. He went against the grain and considered himself a rebel because he prioritized portraits with a sharp focus. I had an abundance of amazing portraits to choose from when curating this book. Fascinating people who I can only imagine what kind of lives they led. I made a selection of knowns like André Gide, Malraux and Le Corbusier, as well as total unknowns who just seemed like characters that deserved to be brought out from behind the curtain. Ninety years later we can still feel the presence of his subjects as if they were shot today. I hope this book sheds light not just on my grandfather’s beginnings, but also on the inhabitants of a city in its heyday that was about to go under a drastic change a few years later when the war broke out.
Philippe Halsman: The French Crate is available now.
