
Even in Paris, the undisputed capital of the art world in the 1930s, it was unusual for a woman to photograph nude subjects - especially males. When Henry de Montherlant's La Deesse Cypris (described by its author as an "eloge de la volupte" or a eulogy to sensuality) was publis
hed in 1932, illustrated with photographs by Laure Albin-Guillot, it was a remarkably apt pairing. In the book, Montherlant wrote that is was necessary for women to develop their physicality, to shed their sense of inferiority to men, to "prepare for a different way of loving, in which they play a healthier role." It seems that Albin-Guillot, a strikingly indepenedent woman, did so on her own.
A closer look at Albin-Guillot's contribution to La Deesse Cypris bears this out. In the finished product, we see evidence of pictorialism in the aura that surrounds the nude figure, achieved through the use of specialized lens. But the dreaminess coexists with strongly cropped images that fill the entire frame, as though daring the viewer to feret out clues in her chosen props and settings. You can examine the rigor of her shooting methods in two images: the first has the geometrics outlined in pencil; the second is the finished product. 
Even more impressive was the collaboration with poet Paul Valery in 1936 on Le Narcisse, the retelling of another ancient myth. Critics greeted it with enthusiam but were unnerved by Albin-Guillot's mastery of erotic subject
matter supported by her always stellar technique. Reviews emphasized her adherence to classical forms. None alluded to the rumor that her model, actor Michel Lemoine, was her lover.
But this was a small, though revealing, part of the extraordinary life of Laure Albin-Guillot (1879-1962). Born Laure Maffredi in Paris, she studied drawing and painting before taking up photography, perhaps attracted by the lack of barriers to women in this new field. She married young, at eighteen, to a scientific researcher who introduced her to the world as seen through a microscope. The couple worked together on
explorations of plant and animal cells. After Dr. Albin-Guillot's untimely death in 1929, Laure conceived the book Micrographie Decorative as a memorial to him. In twnety-four photographs, with text by Paul Leon, crystals become wonderous and eerie - micro-stars she called them. In practice, Albin-Guillot had arrived at a similar place as Sybil and Laszlo Moholy-Nagy did by theory. It was her good fortune to enjoy a happy marriage and professional collaboration for almost three decades.

hed in 1932, illustrated with photographs by Laure Albin-Guillot, it was a remarkably apt pairing. In the book, Montherlant wrote that is was necessary for women to develop their physicality, to shed their sense of inferiority to men, to "prepare for a different way of loving, in which they play a healthier role." It seems that Albin-Guillot, a strikingly indepenedent woman, did so on her own.
A closer look at Albin-Guillot's contribution to La Deesse Cypris bears this out. In the finished product, we see evidence of pictorialism in the aura that surrounds the nude figure, achieved through the use of specialized lens. But the dreaminess coexists with strongly cropped images that fill the entire frame, as though daring the viewer to feret out clues in her chosen props and settings. You can examine the rigor of her shooting methods in two images: the first has the geometrics outlined in pencil; the second is the finished product. 
Even more impressive was the collaboration with poet Paul Valery in 1936 on Le Narcisse, the retelling of another ancient myth. Critics greeted it with enthusiam but were unnerved by Albin-Guillot's mastery of erotic subject
matter supported by her always stellar technique. Reviews emphasized her adherence to classical forms. None alluded to the rumor that her model, actor Michel Lemoine, was her lover.
But this was a small, though revealing, part of the extraordinary life of Laure Albin-Guillot (1879-1962). Born Laure Maffredi in Paris, she studied drawing and painting before taking up photography, perhaps attracted by the lack of barriers to women in this new field. She married young, at eighteen, to a scientific researcher who introduced her to the world as seen through a microscope. The couple worked together on
explorations of plant and animal cells. After Dr. Albin-Guillot's untimely death in 1929, Laure conceived the book Micrographie Decorative as a memorial to him. In twnety-four photographs, with text by Paul Leon, crystals become wonderous and eerie - micro-stars she called them. In practice, Albin-Guillot had arrived at a similar place as Sybil and Laszlo Moholy-Nagy did by theory. It was her good fortune to enjoy a happy marriage and professional collaboration for almost three decades.
An early interest in pictorialist aesthetics (Seaside - 1915) was a constant attribute in Albin-Guillot's outdoor work, but she become eqaully adroit - and in demand - for fashion and news work. She was an early contributor to Lucien Vogel's cutting edge magazine Vu, beginning in 1928. She published the collection Aspects of France ( see Poplars Lining A Cobblestone Street In The Rain) in 1938.

By then, she had received a gold medal from Revue Francaise de Photogrpahie in 1922 and a solo show at the 1925 Salon d'Automne. Her fellow photographers regarded her technical ability and choice of pictorial elements as approaching perfection.

Inspired by her work as the archivist for L'Ecole des Beaux Arts, Albin-Guillot began laying the ground work for a national museum of photography in the 1930s.
After World War II, to celebrate the end of a long and dreary time for France, Albin-Guillot published Splendour de Paris in 1946. to remind The book elegantly documented sights from the iron gates at historic Saint-Cloud in the Parisian suburbs to nigh time at a funfair, reminding her countrymen of their rich patrimony. Close to her own heart, was the Palais de Chaillot, e permanent home of the Societe Francaise de Photographie.
After World War II, to celebrate the end of a long and dreary time for France, Albin-Guillot published Splendour de Paris in 1946. to remind The book elegantly documented sights from the iron gates at historic Saint-Cloud in the Parisian suburbs to nigh time at a funfair, reminding her countrymen of their rich patrimony. Close to her own heart, was the Palais de Chaillot, e permanent home of the Societe Francaise de Photographie.
Laure Albin-Guillot died at the Maison d'Artistes, Nogent-sur-Marne in 1962.
Her photographs are in numerous collections, including the Getty Museum, Yale University Art Gallery, National Galery of Canada, George Eastman House, the Biblioteque Nationale and, of course, the Societe Francaise de Photographie.
Her photographs are in numerous collections, including the Getty Museum, Yale University Art Gallery, National Galery of Canada, George Eastman House, the Biblioteque Nationale and, of course, the Societe Francaise de Photographie.



9 comments:
What a wonderful tribute to one of the unsung heroines of photography. Laure Albin-Guillot had an unwavering eye - and to see her pencilled proof with its meticulous geometry is really special. Funnily enough I was just looking at some photogravures of her work today, a series entitled Aspects de la France, in a 1938 book commissioned by the French state to mark a visit by King George VI and Queen Elizabeth (the Queen Mother). Beautiful landscapes, rather than nudes or micro-stars, but with the same sense of balance.
Neil, "Poplars Lining Cobblestone Streets In The Rain" was included in "Aspects de la France." My source dated it as 1928, which I've now figured out is ten years too soon. Even books get things wrong - is nothing sacred?
Albin-Guillot's creation of images belies the notion that photography is an accidental art. I love the 1947 still life "Bibliophile" (Bibliotheque Nationale de France). I thought is was an apt coda.
The date is definitely 1938 (it's signed and dated on the photographic plate). As printed, no titles are supplied for the images in Aspects de la France, but I'm rather suspicious of "Poplars lining cobblestone streets in the rain" - this looks like a canal to me, and I'm pretty sure that's a bridge at the back. So it does rather look as if nothing is sacred!
The book in question is "Laure Albin-Guillot: La Volonte d'Art" (1999). So cobblestone was my translation for the French word "paves." And it was such a lovely book.
Fabulous! I haven't been to visit in a while and I've missed these "trips" you take us on.
Jeanne, I'm happy that you have returned. Perhaps you've been on a fabulous trip somewhere, seeing as its summer.
Laure Albin-Guillot: La Volonte d'Art"
Thanks for that.I will read if I can buy it.Any suggestions?
Bravo,
Ian
Ian, I see that Amazon has one copy available for $100. I got the book through a public library loan program. I could never support my reading habit without it. Good Luck.
Athough it was unusual for a woman in Paris during the 1930s to take nude photographs, it wasn't unheard of - I think Lee Miller did it in 1930.
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