This past February saw the re-launch of Aperture magazine. To say the magazine has been an important presence in the world of photography would be an understatement by any measure. Aperture has been exploring and contextualizing the art of photography since the early 1950s, as well as bringing to light the work of a roster of too many great names to even list. Today, the challenge for newly appointed editor-in-chief Michael Famighetti is to reanimate the magazine's carefree and playful spirit in 2013.
To celebrate "Playtime," Aperture's new issue (coming soon to OC!), and to commemorate the re-launch of this historical magazine, I had the chance to visit Michael at the magazine's cavernous Chelsea headquarters.
Aperture has become something of a legend. Can you start by telling us a little bit about its history?
The magazine was founded in 1952, by a group of important photographers—Minor White, Dorothea Lange, Barbara Morgan, and Ansel Adams—and the photo historians Beaumont and Nancy Newhall. The original Aperture was modeled after Steiglitz’s Camera Work, published in the early 20th century, and was founded to create a venue for serious discussion of photography at a time when photography was not considered to be a serious art form. That may seem strange today, when we have so many galleries and museums exhibiting photography, but that’s a relatively recent [development].
How would you describe the spirit behind the magazine?
The magazine has always been about exploring the medium of photography as a unique means of expression and communication—presenting portfolios of work and considering photography’s many meanings and forms. The new version of the magazine looks different, and reflects the shifting landscape of photography, but the same fundamental ideas animate the magazine today—great photography, ideas, and an emphasis on reproduction that maintains a fidelity to the original work.
Since Aperture's re-launch last spring, how do you think the magazine has evolved? And what are your goals for its new incarnation?
In many ways, the re-launch is a return to the ideas that originally animated the magazine. Of course, photography has changed so much in the past 60 years, most radically in the last twelve or so. It’s ubiquitous, and a photography magazine might seem unnecessary, but I think it’s important that there’s a context for understanding what’s happening in photography today, and how it relates to its history. Most photos float around social media without any context.
We have some exciting collaborations planned—we’ll produce issues offsite in cities abroad and guest editors will work with us on particular issues. We hope that each issue will tease apart a subject or topic from a range of angles. We’re also bringing in many new writers: historians of science, art historians, novelists, and so on.
Concerning the current issue, "Playtime," you said that photographers are afraid of being funny—why is that the case?
Check out the article by photographer–writer Tim Davis in the issue. His thesis is about the “fear of funny photography.” It’s a characteristically wry piece. Personally, though, Helen Levitt’s photos make me laugh.
What are you particularly proud of in the new issue?
Maybe the mix of material. The conversation between Christian Marclay and the poet Frances Richard, for example, is a great read. I’m also excited about the photographs of students climbing Cambridge University’s gothic buildings in the 1930s—they're a
To celebrate "Playtime," Aperture's new issue (coming soon to OC!), and to commemorate the re-launch of this historical magazine, I had the chance to visit Michael at the magazine's cavernous Chelsea headquarters.
Aperture has become something of a legend. Can you start by telling us a little bit about its history?
The magazine was founded in 1952, by a group of important photographers—Minor White, Dorothea Lange, Barbara Morgan, and Ansel Adams—and the photo historians Beaumont and Nancy Newhall. The original Aperture was modeled after Steiglitz’s Camera Work, published in the early 20th century, and was founded to create a venue for serious discussion of photography at a time when photography was not considered to be a serious art form. That may seem strange today, when we have so many galleries and museums exhibiting photography, but that’s a relatively recent [development].
How would you describe the spirit behind the magazine?
The magazine has always been about exploring the medium of photography as a unique means of expression and communication—presenting portfolios of work and considering photography’s many meanings and forms. The new version of the magazine looks different, and reflects the shifting landscape of photography, but the same fundamental ideas animate the magazine today—great photography, ideas, and an emphasis on reproduction that maintains a fidelity to the original work.
Since Aperture's re-launch last spring, how do you think the magazine has evolved? And what are your goals for its new incarnation?
In many ways, the re-launch is a return to the ideas that originally animated the magazine. Of course, photography has changed so much in the past 60 years, most radically in the last twelve or so. It’s ubiquitous, and a photography magazine might seem unnecessary, but I think it’s important that there’s a context for understanding what’s happening in photography today, and how it relates to its history. Most photos float around social media without any context.
We have some exciting collaborations planned—we’ll produce issues offsite in cities abroad and guest editors will work with us on particular issues. We hope that each issue will tease apart a subject or topic from a range of angles. We’re also bringing in many new writers: historians of science, art historians, novelists, and so on.
Concerning the current issue, "Playtime," you said that photographers are afraid of being funny—why is that the case?
Check out the article by photographer–writer Tim Davis in the issue. His thesis is about the “fear of funny photography.” It’s a characteristically wry piece. Personally, though, Helen Levitt’s photos make me laugh.
What are you particularly proud of in the new issue?
Maybe the mix of material. The conversation between Christian Marclay and the poet Frances Richard, for example, is a great read. I’m also excited about the photographs of students climbing Cambridge University’s gothic buildings in the 1930s—they're a