came, and yet, she attracted a variety of men. They werenât afraid of her oddness, her competence, her lack of bows and small talk. George Dannenberg, The Man from the Far West, was still writing to her, as was Arthur, her first lover. For a time Arthur wanted to marry her, but she wasnât interested enough to encourage him to press his hand. There was also her student, Ted Reid, and of course, Stieglitz.
She was not yet the famous OâKeeffe. She was merely the local bohemian. And yet, all these men, all of a different stripe (the arty San Franciscan who loved to dance; the handsome, straitlaced political science teacher; the local football hero; the equally eccentric Father of Photography), couldnât stay away.
Her secret? Loving her own life. Finding the things that came her way of immense interest and animating them. No matter what was going on, it was great to be her, starring in her own true-life adventure. My mother, who knew about these things, advised me when I was thirteen and boy-crazy to ignore the boys and focus on my schoolwork, swim team, horseback riding (which I could never get enough of), making macramé plant hangers, and keeping up with The Man from U.N.C.L.E. She said that loving things in life makes people love you. She said, itâs like how we trained the dog Smitty to come. We didnât stand there and holler Come! We didnât entice him with a dog treat. Instead, we would ignore him, then rush over to the other side of the room and pretend weâd found something exciting. Then he would rush over to see what the fuss was about. It didnât take long for Smitty to rush over to me every time I entered the room, so sure was he that I was up to something interesting.
Resistance is futile.
After the end of spring term, 1917, OâKeeffe hopped on a train and went to New York. To buy the ticket, she convinced the banker to open the bank on Sunday so she could withdraw her savings. This was not something people routinely did, hopping on a train at the spur of the moment. When she showed up at 291, Stieglitz was both impressed and titillated by what he thought of as her girlish âAmericanâ spontaneity. On April 3, 1917, he had opened her first solo show, including some of the charcoal Specials , some watercolors from Canyon, and the esoteric and elegant Blue Lines (1916) , but by the time she arrived it had been dismantled; he insisted on rehanging it for her private pleasure.
During her ten-day stay she met Paul Strand, a young photographer and one of Stieglitzâs recently acquired disciples. Stieglitz loved nothing more than having a new disciple. A decade earlier the Belgian-born photographer Edward Steichen had sought him out during a trip to New York in 1900. Stieglitz immediately pegged Steichen as a fellow photographic visionary. Steichen designed the logo of Camera Work , and Stieglitz dedicated several issues to Steichenâs photographs. Even though Stieglitz had been born in Hoboken, the two men shared a European sensibility. It was Steichen who had turned Stieglitz on to Rodin, Cézanne, Matisse, Picasso, and Brancusi.
But inevitably, Steichen betrayed his mentor by committing the unpardonable sin of inventing fashion photography, â¡â¡â¡ then further rubbed salt into the wound by proving his youth and manliness by joining the army after the United States entered World War I, where he commanded a photographic division of American Expeditionary Forces. Stieglitz was both too old and too conflicted about the war to join in.
Acolytes came, then disappointed and left, so there was always an opening for a new one. Paul Strand was the latest and brightest. He discovered photography in high school, when his class at The Ethical Culture School took a field trip to 291 in 1907. Like Steichen before him, when Strand met Stieglitz §§§ he was dazzled by possibilities and dared believe that he could make a career of photography. Strand
She was not yet the famous OâKeeffe. She was merely the local bohemian. And yet, all these men, all of a different stripe (the arty San Franciscan who loved to dance; the handsome, straitlaced political science teacher; the local football hero; the equally eccentric Father of Photography), couldnât stay away.
Her secret? Loving her own life. Finding the things that came her way of immense interest and animating them. No matter what was going on, it was great to be her, starring in her own true-life adventure. My mother, who knew about these things, advised me when I was thirteen and boy-crazy to ignore the boys and focus on my schoolwork, swim team, horseback riding (which I could never get enough of), making macramé plant hangers, and keeping up with The Man from U.N.C.L.E. She said that loving things in life makes people love you. She said, itâs like how we trained the dog Smitty to come. We didnât stand there and holler Come! We didnât entice him with a dog treat. Instead, we would ignore him, then rush over to the other side of the room and pretend weâd found something exciting. Then he would rush over to see what the fuss was about. It didnât take long for Smitty to rush over to me every time I entered the room, so sure was he that I was up to something interesting.
Resistance is futile.
After the end of spring term, 1917, OâKeeffe hopped on a train and went to New York. To buy the ticket, she convinced the banker to open the bank on Sunday so she could withdraw her savings. This was not something people routinely did, hopping on a train at the spur of the moment. When she showed up at 291, Stieglitz was both impressed and titillated by what he thought of as her girlish âAmericanâ spontaneity. On April 3, 1917, he had opened her first solo show, including some of the charcoal Specials , some watercolors from Canyon, and the esoteric and elegant Blue Lines (1916) , but by the time she arrived it had been dismantled; he insisted on rehanging it for her private pleasure.
During her ten-day stay she met Paul Strand, a young photographer and one of Stieglitzâs recently acquired disciples. Stieglitz loved nothing more than having a new disciple. A decade earlier the Belgian-born photographer Edward Steichen had sought him out during a trip to New York in 1900. Stieglitz immediately pegged Steichen as a fellow photographic visionary. Steichen designed the logo of Camera Work , and Stieglitz dedicated several issues to Steichenâs photographs. Even though Stieglitz had been born in Hoboken, the two men shared a European sensibility. It was Steichen who had turned Stieglitz on to Rodin, Cézanne, Matisse, Picasso, and Brancusi.
But inevitably, Steichen betrayed his mentor by committing the unpardonable sin of inventing fashion photography, â¡â¡â¡ then further rubbed salt into the wound by proving his youth and manliness by joining the army after the United States entered World War I, where he commanded a photographic division of American Expeditionary Forces. Stieglitz was both too old and too conflicted about the war to join in.
Acolytes came, then disappointed and left, so there was always an opening for a new one. Paul Strand was the latest and brightest. He discovered photography in high school, when his class at The Ethical Culture School took a field trip to 291 in 1907. Like Steichen before him, when Strand met Stieglitz §§§ he was dazzled by possibilities and dared believe that he could make a career of photography. Strand
Similar Books
