Josef Sudek

If anyone truly understood the rich tonality of a black-and-white photograph that person would be Josef Sudek. From his magnificent study of St Vivitus’ Cathedral to the documentation of Eastern Europe in the early 20th century, his images have become an important part of the photographic timeline of history. The artist’s studio is a place of tranquillity where our mind and body are at ease. It may be the most comfortable housing for our thoughts that may one day be replicated into a painting, photograph or sculpture.

Looking at Sudek’s images of his studio resonate deeply within me, not only through the relationship between myself and my studio but what lies within the composition of these silvery ethereal pictures. With each page turn, there is a recurring theme of the trees through the window, wrapped in early morning frost or a soggy Sunday’s endless downpour. I can only imagine Sudek sitting staring through this window with his arm wrapped around his camera and with each breath adding to the hazy glass that sits between him and the rest of the world.

The photographs of faint window light are the punctum of this series. Their obscure form distorted by the raindrops on the window resembles oil droplets dripping down a freshly mounted canvas. The toning of each photograph is completely different and it allows for the “detail’ to be drawn out of the pictures, I use the term “detail” loosely as each picture is as abstract as the one before it.

Texture plays a huge part in how a photo book operates, especially when in a book using print scans; every mark and stain came from Sudek himself and the printing of the book must allow for this... which is does. There is a light roughness in the coating of the paper, the satin finish provides no glare, so as to not take away from the detail of the prints. I can think of nothing worse than turning the page of a book or stepping in front of a frames photograph and looking directly back at myself; yes it does allow you to move close to the picture to extract the detail but in a photo book I always prefer a more matte feel.


The Window of My Studio takes place during the Second World War, Anna Fárová talks about how “Time seemed to stand still” in the essay Contemplation sits before the start of the images in the book, this comes back to how Sudek was making pictures that have that “timeless” feel to them, I always reluctantly use that word to describe a photograph, but in this context I think it is important, to be able to stop time when making a picture during a time such as WW2. Sudek used this window as a platform to project his memories onto, his loss of an arm in battle, fleeing friends and family and loss, all this pain that Sudek experienced is exquisitely preserved, much like the frost on the window glass, in these photographic prints.