A Picture is Worth A Thousand Years
a picture is worth a thousand years words + photography / mary von aue Of Germany’s long history, no epoch of its past is more distinct, more palpable in the memories of some and pivotal in the history books as the Germany of the last 100 years. The last century is so densely packed with tragedies, renewals and reinventions, that we have seen multiple Germanys: an empire, a republic, a regime, an occupation, all of these starkly contrasting identities placed adjacent to one another, contentious with their predecessor. Gutenberg’s printing press is rightly credited with directly aiding the Protestant Reformation, but it took over 80 years after the invention for a schism within the Church to actually take place. Meanwhile, the end of the Holocaust and the fall of the Berlin Wall, two strikingly different eras, are only separated by 44 years. Merely a pivot in German identity used to take centuries, but since 1914 we’ve seen multiple iterations of the same place. 70
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It’s with this in mind that I traveled to Wetzlar, Germany to celebrate the 100th Anniversary of Leica Camera. Founded in 1914 by Ernst Leitz, the camera company survived a Weimar Republic and a Nazi Regime, with the photos to prove it. Touring the factory in their city of origin, a village nestled within the Black Forest, I walked beside lengthy rows of some of the world’s most famous photographs, not with nostalgia but with somber reflection of how our memory of history is now completely reliant on photography, much in part to this company’s innovation. The compactness of early Leica cameras were for the intention of landscape photography, but their famed portability would become indispensable in journalism. Leica created the first point-and-shoot that allowed journalists to be discreet, and borrowed lenses from microscopes to create the first high-definition capabilities. Because of their size and their zoom, they made war reporting more accessible to photographers during the Vietnam War, and thus contributed to making the war more accessible to the public. 72
The Anniversary Party honored Nick Ut, Pulitzer Prize winning photographer of “Napalm Girl,” the harrowing picture of a young and naked child whose skin was singeing from a Napalm attack. Vietnam was a televised war, and this photograph not only made international headlines but reached every living room in America, influencing public opinion on the United States’ foreign policy. For the first time, photography played a larger role in war reporting, thanks in part to the compact size of Leica’s cameras. The point-and-shoot model was originally made for wildlife photography, but because it offered discreet shots it became indispensable to Associated Press Saigon, who equipped Nick Ut with his first camera.
This was not the first time Leica’s manufacturing intentions and business model changed drastically at the behest of current events. Ernst Leitz II developed notably progressive labor policies and employed many Jewish families despite the mounting anti-Semitism spreading across Europe. When Hitler was elected in 1933, Leitz sent hundreds of Jews to the United States and other countries “on assignment,” many of 73
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whom were not actual employees, in order to escape the Nuremberg Laws, which limited the professional abilities of Jews in Germany. Most of the Jewish immigrants found jobs with local businesses upon arrival, but this initiative would eventually lead to Leica having its first presence outside of Germany.
needed from the underground tunnels, but if work could provide people with a distraction from current events, and a way to pass the time, it was available. It was in these barracks that they ate and slept while in hiding, opting to continue working for Leica when possible.
This became known as the Leica Freedom Train,” which continued until Germany’s invasion of Poland in 1939, when all borders were closed. The Leitz family then began using tunnels beneath their factory in Wetzlar to hide Jewish employees and their families. I was able to tour these tunnels while in town for the celebration, and spent hours in the dark, damp, maze that provided people with some semblance of a livelihood for years. For safety, we wore hard hats and carried lamps, which illuminated an otherwise pitch-black setting. Bunks, bathrooms, and even carvings of Ernst Leitz’s logo were to be expected, but the most shocking rooms underground were the offices. Desks were placed in certain underground rooms at the request of those in hiding, in what felt like an attempt to normalize that existence. Labor was not
Leica’s international presence is reflected in the photographs they displayed at the event, with their monopoly on journalistic photography made clear. The last 100 years have greatly changed how we watch the news and how we access current events. So much of what we define as truth demands visual proof, and so much of what we define as entertainment, likewise, demands imagery. A picture rarely needs translating, and it is that quick dissemination of information that has made the world smaller, its events accessible, our reactions immediate. To this effect, it should be no surprise that the last 100 years have been densely packed with political change, and otherwise stagnant lands now drastically bend to reforms. Photography has not only captured the last century, it has expedited the results. 75
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It’s with this in mind that I traveled to Wetzlar, Germany to celebrate the 100th Anniversary of Leica Camera. Founded in 1914 by Ernst Leitz, the camera company survived a Weimar Republic and a Nazi Regime, with the photos to prove it. Touring the factory in their city of origin, a village nestled within the Black Forest, I walked beside lengthy rows of some of the world’s most famous photographs, not with nostalgia but with somber reflection of how our memory of history is now completely reliant on photography, much in part to this company’s innovation. The compactness of early Leica cameras were for the intention of landscape photography, but their famed portability would become indispensable in journalism. Leica created the first point-and-shoot that allowed journalists to be discreet, and borrowed lenses from microscopes to create the first high-definition capabilities. Because of their size and their zoom, they made war reporting more accessible to photographers during the Vietnam War, and thus contributed to making the war more accessible to the public. 72
The Anniversary Party honored Nick Ut, Pulitzer Prize winning photographer of “Napalm Girl,” the harrowing picture of a young and naked child whose skin was singeing from a Napalm attack. Vietnam was a televised war, and this photograph not only made international headlines but reached every living room in America, influencing public opinion on the United States’ foreign policy. For the first time, photography played a larger role in war reporting, thanks in part to the compact size of Leica’s cameras. The point-and-shoot model was originally made for wildlife photography, but because it offered discreet shots it became indispensable to Associated Press Saigon, who equipped Nick Ut with his first camera.
This was not the first time Leica’s manufacturing intentions and business model changed drastically at the behest of current events. Ernst Leitz II developed notably progressive labor policies and employed many Jewish families despite the mounting anti-Semitism spreading across Europe. When Hitler was elected in 1933, Leitz sent hundreds of Jews to the United States and other countries “on assignment,” many of 73
74
19
19 20
45
72
whom were not actual employees, in order to escape the Nuremberg Laws, which limited the professional abilities of Jews in Germany. Most of the Jewish immigrants found jobs with local businesses upon arrival, but this initiative would eventually lead to Leica having its first presence outside of Germany.
needed from the underground tunnels, but if work could provide people with a distraction from current events, and a way to pass the time, it was available. It was in these barracks that they ate and slept while in hiding, opting to continue working for Leica when possible.
This became known as the Leica Freedom Train,” which continued until Germany’s invasion of Poland in 1939, when all borders were closed. The Leitz family then began using tunnels beneath their factory in Wetzlar to hide Jewish employees and their families. I was able to tour these tunnels while in town for the celebration, and spent hours in the dark, damp, maze that provided people with some semblance of a livelihood for years. For safety, we wore hard hats and carried lamps, which illuminated an otherwise pitch-black setting. Bunks, bathrooms, and even carvings of Ernst Leitz’s logo were to be expected, but the most shocking rooms underground were the offices. Desks were placed in certain underground rooms at the request of those in hiding, in what felt like an attempt to normalize that existence. Labor was not
Leica’s international presence is reflected in the photographs they displayed at the event, with their monopoly on journalistic photography made clear. The last 100 years have greatly changed how we watch the news and how we access current events. So much of what we define as truth demands visual proof, and so much of what we define as entertainment, likewise, demands imagery. A picture rarely needs translating, and it is that quick dissemination of information that has made the world smaller, its events accessible, our reactions immediate. To this effect, it should be no surprise that the last 100 years have been densely packed with political change, and otherwise stagnant lands now drastically bend to reforms. Photography has not only captured the last century, it has expedited the results. 75
