There are a few photographers I love and who's work was of influence on me when I drew my book De Smokkelaar (The Smuggler). These artists of course operated in the thick of it, recording history while it happened, whereas my work is that of an armchair time-traveler. Moreover, history and facts are greatly skewed in my book, so perhaps I've allowed their influence foolishly.
Needless to say, in saying I'm influenced, I mean to say I'm looking way up above me.
His photo's from Paris conjured up a whole world of people trying to enjoy their freedom in the beauty of black and white whereas his later work exploded with color. The lifely feel of his photo's from around the world is unsurpassed.
At home we also had a copy of Johan van der Keuken's Wij zijn 17 (We are 17, 1955). A sweet little book about the post-war generation.
Together with Van der Elsken's photo's of artistic milieu's and B-grade imagery taken from beatnik movies like Bucket of blood, this was in my mind when drawing (ficticious) artist communities from behind the iron curtain.
Gordon Parks and the photo essay
I was working on a sketch version of De Smokkelaar when we visited Amsterdam in 2017 (we are currently living in Amman, Jordan). I knew Gordon Parks from his Shaft movie so when our son Benno said he wanted to visit the photo museum FOAM in Amsterdam, we didn't hesitate as there was an exhibition of Parks' photo's. I was only vaguely aware of his work as a photographer and was blown away by this show on what Gordon Parks called 'photo essays.'
Life magazine had been featuring these photo-reportages since the 30s and they show more than a few similarities with what we do when we make a graphic novel. Again perhaps foolishly, I took to the idea to try to tell a small but crucial part of the story using this format. In my book the essay is a case of forgery, of course.
De Smokkelaar's last part is set in California, of which my visual idea was dominated by Hollywood but was enhanced by Gordon Parks' reports.
I'll have to conclude this post in one way or another and this photo of my mother Vera as a child in Prague, early 50s, seems appropriate.
