Dear Newhall--

This is what I call a show! And this is
the sort of photography I have in mind.

The Museum show last year on History of
Photography was very swell but between you and
me and the gate-post--you've never had a show
like this one, or Adams or Weston. It's too
bad the Museum doesn't go out to show the best to encourage this kind of work--quality, sensitivity.

So much work is propaganda, documentary,
press or commercial

Let's see if we can't do something to
encourage this sort of development.

You must see it--

David H. McAlpin

1/6/39

[JUL 17, 1940]

3 Hoping you'll have a good summer
your old friend Stieglitz

It is too bad that
my condition is
such that getting
ready for the planned
exhibition of my prints
is impossible.— When
I arrived late I soon
realized it would have
been worse than suicidal
to have made the effort
to get ready. I
know you fully understand

Stieglitz / O'Keeffe Archive,
Beinecke Library / Yale University.
For Reference Use Only.
DO NOT DUPLICATE.

FOR REFERENCE USE ONLY
For Reproduction Contact the
Owner of the Original Document.
Getty Center

Alfred Stieglitz received his first medal from Emerson. He, too, discovered that photography has its limitations. Instead of accepting them as defeat, he has for over fifty years been overcoming them and affirming photography's position as an independent art form. His photographs are remarkable simply as technical experiments; their importance lies in their subtle plastic values; they are intensely personal reactions to the world. Stieglitz has fought for the recognition of photography as an art even more through the work of others. He organized the Photo-Secession in 1902, a society " to advance photography as applied to pictorial expression," the members including Frank Eugene, Gertrude Kasebier, Joseph T. Kieley, Edward Steichen, Clarge

ance White and Alvin Langdon Coburn. Fifty numbers of Camera Work were published between 1902 and 1917, each issue a superb example of book-making and reproduction.

2. How you feel. It's too bad it should have happened. I wonder if when the gross carelessness can be charged — Is it true how you feel but I hope you'll forget about it as far as I am concerned. It's only you I think of when you come to get things straight in the photographic world. In history at any rate, I'm certainly no better shape than when I left home. Then certainly would go a lot much. — I am glad I have not to be ready for October 14. I could not have done it.

I do want to make a few prints — if at all possible — when I get back. — I wonder if it would pass. — I have set no date for my return

August 30, 1940

Dear Stieglitz:

Ansel has come through handsomely about the error in my article in
the Pagent of Photography catalog. The fault was the printers, he
explained. A block of type was left out of the final look-up.
The publishers are printing the page all over again---as the book
is in a "plastic" binding a new page can be inserted. Fortunately
I received one of the few copies yet distributed. Yours was not
yet sent. So please disregard the hysterical part of my letter!
I have just heard from Dorothy Norman that the Lakeside Press proofs
of the photographs for Twice a Year have been sent back -- she promises
to let me know the results when they are satisfactory. In the meanwhile
we have received first proofs of the Lakeside Press reproduction of
the night view which you lent me. I am greatly encouraged, and think
that a really beautiful job can eventually be had from them. I shall
keep you posted about the progress. I know that you would not be satisfied
with the first state, but feel that you would agree with me that the
results are promising enough to to be pushed farther.

It's frightfully damp and muggy here--paper feels like wet blotters. The
RCA building towers indefinitely up, its crown completely hidden.

THE MUSEUM OF MODERN ART
NEW YORK

11 WEST 53rd STREET
TELEPHONE: CIRCLE 5-8900
CABLES: MODERNART, NEW-YORK

OFFICE OF THE LIBRARIAN
BEAUMONT NEWHALL

September 17 1940

Dear Stieglitz:

Many thanks for your letters about the unfortunate blunder in the printing of the S.F. catalog. I suppose that by now you have received the corrected version - a clumsy enough patch to be sure, but at least things are straight now as far as the presentation of my statement is concerned. I appreciate and thank you for your interest in my desire to do my utmost to compile a clean-cut record of what has happened in photography. I am looking forward to your return eagerly. Plans for a Department of Photography here are shaping up into quite immediate possibilities, thanks to Dave McAlpin's interest. The Trustees are ready to set up a department on an equal footing with the departments of Painting, Sculpture, Architecture, Industrial Art, and Films, and want me to be curator. It is all very exciting, for so far as I know this is the first time that a museum has recognized the importance of having a separate section devoted solely to photography. Photographs will not be considered a "minor" art and relegated to forgotten corners of the print department! There are 1001 things to be discussed-- the department can be of profound good or of diabolical danger... it's a delicate situation indeed, and I should be most appreciative of your comments on my ideas. Ansel will probably be on this fall--and I think he can be of real help. Well, it's most unsatisfactory to carry on a one-sided conversation on paper about this recent turn, so I'll wait for your return to town.

Eliot Porter dropped in the other day, with some lovely Kodachromes of birds, his most important summer's work. It was good to see him again. He's off for Chicago soon. The binders have begun work on 9 Camera Work issues. As the labels are lettered *after* they have been glued to the spine of the book, they can't make up an extra set as you suggested and guarantee the work that you and I demand from them.

Haven't had a chance to print my California pictures, but the negatives are encouraging.

Ever faithfully,
B.N. Newhall

The Embassy, Miami Beach, Fla.

Sept. 14/42

Dear Stieglitz:

Your heartfelt letter means more to me than I can tell. That you should cherish my appreciation and admiration for The Place and all that you have done is gratifying in the extreme, for I have felt that I have been pretty much on the receiving end. What I have learned about Photography and Life from our invigorating conversations in your pleasant light-filled room at The Place I shall take with me always, wherever I may be, in this mad world turmoil, shuttled. First the revelation that Photography is Life, and not a mechanical way of making pictures by following prescribed rules and regulations. But above all the example of a man who early made up his mind to do a job, and who, through thick and thin, with all his heart and soul, has seen that job through.

These last few weeks, so utterly different from any experience that my life has held, have brought into focus many things that I perceived but dimly only a few months ago. Despite the fact that I haven't touched a camera, nor seen a photograph, nor concerned myself in any particular way with photography, yet photography seems all the more important to me than ever. Being away from the Museum has been good for me, for I have suddenly realized that Photography matters more to me than the Museum. Nancy has pitched in to my job, as you know. She has had to houseclean, and pick up the threads where I dropped them. It has not been easy for her, as I did not have the time, nor was I in the spirit, during those last few days, to tidy up my affairs and leave everything shipshape. There was a certain opposition at the Museum to her taking over; this negative attitude disgusted and annoyed me to the point of forcing, through every means I knew, her appointment---not because Nancy is my wife, not because she needs to have a job, and not for the sake of the Museum, but simply because both Nancy and I felt very strongly that we owed it to the photographers who have cooperated with us so fully to continue as long as we could be of service to them. And I knew of nobody better suited for the job than Nancy; I asked for other nominations, and received not one suggestion. But as I have written to Nancy, and as she quite independently decided, we will continue at the Museum just so long as we can really help Photography through the Museum as an instrument, or agent. We will not allow photography to be used simply as a means of "promoting" the museum, as a cheap window decoration or leading attraction like a sideshow freak. And I say "we", because, as you so well understand, Nancy and I are a team; both of us together are greater than the sum of the parts, and even though I cannot play an active part for some time, what Nancy does receives my entire approval, for I have confidence and faith in her judgment and in her approach.

You must know that this letter would not be written were it not for you---that you have brought out of both of us an attitude, a feeling, a love for photography which was latent. And for this gift, we are both deeply grateful, and we hope that in our actions and in our deeds we are repaying you.

Next week I leave this school for a more advanced one in Harrisburg, and Nancy is coming to live with me there. How I have missed her! Yet this absence has brought something to both of us---the realization that we are inseparable. We work for one another; the driving force is us. And after six weeks at Harrisburg, if I am not called sooner, I shall leave the country, where I shall not know until I arrive. What a strange sensation! It will be a hard break, particularly for Nancy---but it must be faced, and I am persuaded to put all I can into this new job.

Of course Army life is a great jump from the individualism which I have enjoyed. But it is such a complete break that I have not found it a bit at all disagreeable, and have discovered many features which I enjoy. Physically the constant exercise is marvellous; never have I felt so fine. The organization I constantly marvel at---things get done, in the most direct manner. One learns the need of doing things in a clean cut decisive way, and I think that I'll benefit by learning how to give orders, and how to delegate authority. Above all is the lesson not to be lenient, not to turn your eyes away from improper actions, but to be just and firm. I think that I'm beginning to learn to discipline myself and to discipline others---though I realize that in a few short weeks one cannot change one's whole outlook, nevertheless, I sense a new viewpoint which I shall try to develop.

Your letter distresses me with the sad news that you are having so much bodily trouble. I pray and hope that the specialists have given you relief, and that being in The Place has brought a turn for the better.

Yes, Stieglitz, I know that you are fighting with me, and it gives me courage and strength. If I can face this strange new life with half the fortitude that you have shown, surely I can be of real use in this struggle, and when it is all over, I shall, I know, fight for photography with a new strength and a new will. The part you are taking is not small-not small, indeed. It is what you have fought for in your way that I hope I shall be fighting for now. The pity of it is that if there were more like you in this world all this terrible business of wayx mass bloodshed and misery might be avoided.

Again my thanks for your splendid letter; it means much to me right now. If, by any chance, I can get on to New York, I shall look forward to seeing you and feeling once again the atmosphere of The Place; feast my eyes on photographs and absorb good talk. I ddeply hope that this letter finds you well. With love and thanks,

PS : After Sept 20, my address will be: The Harrisburger
Harrisburg, Pa.

Postage Due 1 Cent

1st Aft

Braemorath Newhall, 0-912682

3rd C.A. F. Photo Dept.

A. P. 616 - So Postmaster

New York

h.s.

FOR REFERENCE USE ONLY

Getty Center

<table>
  <tbody>
    <tr>
      <td>Stieglitz / O'Keeffe Archive,</td>
    </tr>
    <tr>
      <td>Beinecke Library / Yale University.</td>
    </tr>
    <tr>
      <td>For Reference Use Only.</td>
    </tr>
    <tr>
      <td>DO NOT DUPLICATE.</td>
    </tr>
  </tbody>
</table>

<table>
  <tbody>
    <tr>
      <td>FOR REFERENCE USE ONLY</td>
    </tr>
    <tr>
      <td>For Reproduction Contact the</td>
    </tr>
    <tr>
      <td>Owner of the Original Document.</td>
    </tr>
    <tr>
      <td>getty center</td>
    </tr>
  </tbody>
</table>

22 Nov. 1943

Dear Stieglitz --

Last week I had a wonderful letter from Nancy. All of her letters are wonderful to me. They are such a vivid and vital picture of her life and how she is feeling about things. But this was an exceptional one. In it she told me what I knew - how much the Equivalent we have has meant to her, how it expresses, as words cannot, the way we feel towards one another, how it is a symbol of us. And she wanted to send it to me because she was so fond of it. She wanted to have a leather case made to protect it from harm, and she wrote that if anything happened to it she would understand and that you would also, and that I was not to hesitate to say yes and have her send it across the seas that separate us.

I wrote her my answer right away. No. And I explained why I had come to that answer. Not because I didn't want to have the photograph, but because this is not the time nor the place. I cannot bear to become attached to physical things. Living with other fellows - five of us share one room - things become common property. I have no clean wall of my own where a photograph could live. There would be explanations to make if I hung it on our wall. And I wouldn't want to bury it in my trunk. And I wouldn't want to pack it with my baggage in moving about. No. It does not belong here any more than Nancy does. God knows I want to see her, be with her constantly, and learn to live again as God intended man to live with woman. But not this life, where privacy does not exist, where there is no place that is mine.

I knew that you would understand. So it was no surprise to me when Nancy wrote later and said she'd asked you and you had said no, that something was crystallizing within me and that having the Equivalent might hinder my development at this particular point. And she remarked upon your ever remarkable foresight - to which remark I can heartily agree. Perhaps my reasons for not wanting the Equivalent were the obvious ones, and that way down inside I felt it was not the time to make the exposure, to borrow your favorite simile from photography. I don't know, but I do know that you are right.

Everywhere I see Equivalents, and I feel closer to your work than ever before. It is my pleasant custom to walk across the fields to work, on a sunny hillside where olive trees and artichokes and grape vines are growing. Every day there is something to photograph - the olive trees gnarled and twisted against tremendous pillars of clouds, and birds wheeling in the air - century plants - thick, heavy clover growing luxuriantly around the roots of a tree - arab houses seen from above with their complex pattern of domes and barrel vaults, spick and span in their white wash, gleaming against a leaden sky - kids begging for chewing gum, wearing red skull caps, standing against plaster walls that catch the light beautifully - patient donkeys that walk daintly as a ballet dancer. But I can't photograph what I want to photograph - so much lies between me and the print - without a darkroom and supplies and time. But it doesn't bother me any more, I do not feel frustrated - on the contrary I feel that I'm at last leaning to see feelingly. An somehow I have begun to feel that when I can photograph, when once again the whole tremendous wealth of apparatus and supplies becomes available, that I'll be able to make photographs that will express my feelings, my thoughts, myself.

2.

It is strange that during these months when I've been away from photography, isolated from the overwhelming literature, divorced from all the shiny gadgets, I've really come closer to it than ever. No it's not so strange really - it's been an opportunity to see the woods and not the trees, and a chance to think without the botherment of technique. Above all it has been necessary to take in all the beauty I can find, for there's no one here to make it for me, or to point it out. That's why your photographs seem so vivid to me now, because you helped me so to see and to see feelingly. Thank you, Stieglitz, May this letter find you well, and at the Place, filling that function which only you can fill, and which is so desperately needed right now.

Copy

22 Nov. 1943

Dear Stieglitz --

Everywhere I see Equivalents, and I feel closer to your work than ever before. It is my pleasant custom to walk across the fields to work, on a sunny hillside where olive trees and artichokes and grape vines are growing. Every day there is something to photograph - the olive trees gnarled and twisted against tremendous pillars of clouds, and birds wheeling in the air - century plants - thick, heavy clover growing luxuriantly around the roots of a tree - arab houses seen from above with their complex pattern of domes and barrel vaults, spick and span in their white wash, gleaming against a leaden sky - kids begging for chewing gum, wearing red skull caps, standing against plaster walls that catch the light beautifully - patient donkeys that walk daintily as a ballet dancer. But I can't photograph what I want to photograph - so much lies between me and the print - without a darkroom and supplies and time. But it doesn't bother me any more, I do not feel frustrated - on the contrary I feel that I'm at last leaning to see feelingly. An somehow I have begun to feel that when I can photograph, when once again the whole tremendous wealth of apparatus and supplies becomes available, that I'll be able to make photographs that will express my feelings, my thoughts, myself.

It is strange that during these months when I've been away from photography, isolated from the overwhelming literature, divorced from all the shiny gadgets, I've really come closer to it than ever. No it's not so strange really - it's been an opportunity to see the woods and not the trees, and a chance to think without the botherment of technique. Above all it has been necessary to take in all the beauty I can find, for there's no one here to make it for me, or to point it out. That's why your photographs seem so vivid to me now, because you helped me so to see and to see feelingly. Thank you, Stieglitz. May this letter find you well, and at the Place, filling that function which only you can fill, and which is so desparately needed right now.