Dorothea Lange: Capturing the Human Condition Through Words and Pictures
It is hard to picture Dorothea Lange’s iconic photographs hanging on the walls of darkened exhibition galleries inside New York City’s Museum of Modern Art, but that is precisely what is happening right now. The exhibition, “Dorothea Lange: Words & Pictures,” opened in mid-February, but was promptly closed less than a month later because of the coronavirus pandemic. It strikes me as ironic that the works of a photographer known for portraying a deeply disrupted America, a nation experiencing one of its greatest economic fallouts, is out of sight. In light of current events, this might be a good time to remember how America overcame a major collective crisis decades ago - and also recall the lessons we have not learned since then.
Had it not been for Sally Meister, curator of MoMA’s Department of Photography, and her colleagues, Lange’s words and pictures would still be in the dark. Once MoMA was temporarily shut down due to the COVID-19 crises, the team decided to relaunch the exhibition as an online experience. That project, which went “live” in April of 2020, is currently being presented on MoMA’s website as part of their Virtual Views series, a museum from home. Dorothea Lange: Words & Pictures brings iconic works from the collection together with less seen photographs, from her landmark photobook An American Exodus to projects on criminal justice reform. All together, the exhibition lets us consider the importance of Lange’s legacy and of words and pictures today.
Lange was initially hired by the photographic unit of the Farm Security Administration - a progressive New Deal agency founded to alleviate poverty - to document the growing migrant crisis. But her images went far beyond bureaucratic reportage. Inadvertently, the U.S. government hired one of America’s most skilled photographers, someone who possessed an ability to return a sense of dignity to a group that had been routinely dehumanized. The poor, the displaced, the disenfranchised. About that body of work, Lange explained: “I am trying here to say something about the despised, the defeated, the alienated. About death and disaster. About the wounded, the crippled, the helpless, the rootless, the dislocated. About duress and trouble. About finality. About the last ditch.” While she documented the painful economic and environmental crises of the 1930s and '40s across the American West, Lange captured intimate glimpses of Great Depression bread lines, Japanese American internment camps during World War II, and migrant farm workers.
Throughout the history of photography, especially among photographers who began making photographs as art, there has been a contrary argument about words and images: a good photograph shouldn’t need explaining. But Lange herself said, “All photographs - not only those that are so-called ‘documentary’ - can be fortified by words.” The premier photographer of the human drama of the Great Depression had a way with words. Lange took extensive field notes while photographing — lots of notes, scribbling constantly as she worked, recording how her subjects spoke, what they were doing to get by, why their lives took shape as they did.
White Angel Bread Line, San Francisco (1933).
©Dorothea Lange/Museum of Modern Art, New York.
The work included in Dorothea Lange: Words & Pictures is drawn from MoMA’s extensive collection and offers the viewer an opportunity to reframe some of Lange’s work. In White Angel Bread Line, a photograph taken in San Fransisco in 1933, it is impossible not to draw parallels between the dejected man turned aside from a mass of others to the men waiting in food distribution lines seen across the country today. With all the sadness, desperation, and hopelessness in the picture, there is also so much beauty. That is something Lange knows a lot about: beauty. The beauty of many of Lange’s subjects is not accidental. Lange began her career as a portrait photographer; she had an intuitive sense of what makes a face compelling and the images she shared created a desire to know more. What Lange captured in that photograph is just as disturbing as it is beautiful: the weariness indicated by the man’s posture, the emptiness of his cup, his individuality obscured by the low brim of his hat, and his isolation from others on the breadline, all adding up to a poignant yet respectful portrait of hopelessness and despair. Its power, its beauty, its message, can be understood and felt deeply, valuably, respectfully. The clearing in the middle of the frame - a silver thread that goes down from his hat, falls upon his face, passes through the tin cup, and lands on his folded fingers- captures my eye immediately, and I remain staring, hypnotized, searching for the man’s identity. Even though we can not see his eyes, there is so much dignity in the frame. The composition of Lange’s emblematic shot is stunning. By positioning herself higher, and pointing the camera down, Lange shows how this man is not alone. He becomes the center of a greater triangle, inside a gathering of hope. Everything radiates from his clasped hands, and the crowd of faceless, nameless men forces us to question our humanity.
Throughout the history of photography, especially among photographers who began making photographs as art, there has been a contrary argument about words and images: a good photograph shouldn’t need explaining. But Lange herself said, “All photographs - not only those that are so-called ‘documentary’ - can be fortified by words.” The premier photographer of the human drama of the Great Depression had a way with words. Lange took extensive field notes while photographing — lots of notes, scribbling constantly as she worked, recording how her subjects spoke, what they were doing to get by, why their lives took shape as they did.
White Angel Bread Line, San Francisco (1933).
©Dorothea Lange/Museum of Modern Art, New York.
The work included in Dorothea Lange: Words & Pictures is drawn from MoMA’s extensive collection and offers the viewer an opportunity to reframe some of Lange’s work. In White Angel Bread Line, a photograph taken in San Fransisco in 1933, it is impossible not to draw parallels between the dejected man turned aside from a mass of others to the men waiting in food distribution lines seen across the country today. With all the sadness, desperation, and hopelessness in the picture, there is also so much beauty. That is something Lange knows a lot about: beauty. The beauty of many of Lange’s subjects is not accidental. Lange began her career as a portrait photographer; she had an intuitive sense of what makes a face compelling and the images she shared created a desire to know more. What Lange captured in that photograph is just as disturbing as it is beautiful: the weariness indicated by the man’s posture, the emptiness of his cup, his individuality obscured by the low brim of his hat, and his isolation from others on the breadline, all adding up to a poignant yet respectful portrait of hopelessness and despair. Its power, its beauty, its message, can be understood and felt deeply, valuably, respectfully. The clearing in the middle of the frame - a silver thread that goes down from his hat, falls upon his face, passes through the tin cup, and lands on his folded fingers- captures my eye immediately, and I remain staring, hypnotized, searching for the man’s identity. Even though we can not see his eyes, there is so much dignity in the frame. The composition of Lange’s emblematic shot is stunning. By positioning herself higher, and pointing the camera down, Lange shows how this man is not alone. He becomes the center of a greater triangle, inside a gathering of hope. Everything radiates from his clasped hands, and the crowd of faceless, nameless men forces us to question our humanity.
The Defendant, Alameda County Courthouse, California (1957).
©Dorothea Lange/Museum of Modern Art, New York.
Between 1955 and 1957, Lange worked on a photo essay, Public Defender, originally intended for Life magazine, which documented legal challenges for indigents accused at the Alameda County Courthouse, in downtown Oakland, California. This assignment allowed Lange to examine the U.S. criminal justice system. Lange’s humanist lens captured memorable images, among them, The Defendant, which was taken inside the courtroom. She approached documentary photography as a deeply personal practice and believed in photography’s ability to reveal social conditions, educate the public, and prompt action. Lange thought of herself as an observer directly recording reality, although she also sought to portray moments with emotional resonance and to transform specific circumstances into transcendental images. The representation of a black man inside a courtroom held great symbolism. This image is more about what we do not see than what we are allowed to observe, yet the pain is clearly conveyed. The dark contrasts, the head weighing heavily in the man’s hand, the anonymity. Alone in an empty courtroom, there is nothing and no one. No chance, no opportunity, no hope. We know nothing about this man and Lange does not offer a clue. The subject occupies less than half of the frame and looks small, nearly broken inside the large space. Yet we see him and feel his despair. That is also something Lange knows a lot about: despair. While exploring the image further, I realize that Lange did not want to carry the burden of America’s disgrace, the desolation captured, again and again, all on her own. She wants us to see it, to understand it, and, ideally, to do something about it. Perhaps there is someone standing beside him - we hope. Perhaps he has some money in his pocket - we hope. We can only speculate and wonder. The lack of information, any indication, or even an insinuation of what is to come is haunting. Lange repeatedly provokes us. She wants us to react. Perhaps the next time we see a man suffering, because he is black or because he is poor, we will remember this man’s loneliness. Perhaps, one day, we will even be able to relate to it and extend our compassion.
Through her photography and her words, Lange urged photographers to reconnect with the world - a call reflective of her own ethos and working method, which coupled attention to aesthetics with a central concern for humanity. About her bearing witness to human suffering and indifference, Lange said, “You see, it’s evidence. It’s not pictorial illustration, it’s evidence. It’s a record of human experience.” Lange’s exceptional eye for observing the words and pictures that communicated something of the essential truth of the period in which she lived has left an invaluable record of her times, one that is more than ever relevant to our own. America of today is a place Dorothea Lange would know how to navigate, with respect and empathy, and would help us all make some sense of the madness.
Through her photography and her words, Lange urged photographers to reconnect with the world - a call reflective of her own ethos and working method, which coupled attention to aesthetics with a central concern for humanity. About her bearing witness to human suffering and indifference, Lange said, “You see, it’s evidence. It’s not pictorial illustration, it’s evidence. It’s a record of human experience.” Lange’s exceptional eye for observing the words and pictures that communicated something of the essential truth of the period in which she lived has left an invaluable record of her times, one that is more than ever relevant to our own. America of today is a place Dorothea Lange would know how to navigate, with respect and empathy, and would help us all make some sense of the madness.
Work Cited:
MoMA website
Dorothea Lange: Words and Pictures, April & May 2020
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