A state of grace - the photography of Sergio Larrain

It seems that some photographers have the capacity to enter a special state and produce works of wonder. They can somehow see what we struggle to, and,seemingly without effort, produce work of ineffable beauty. Sergio Larrain (1931-2012) was one of those photographers, in my view one of the greatest that ever lived.

One his most oft repeated quotes is also one of the most revealing and profound:

A good picture is born from a state of grace. Grace becomes manifest when one is freed from conventions, free as a child in his first discovery of reality. The game is then to organize the triangle.

Larrain was born in Chile in 1931 and died in 2012, having ceased taking photographs in 1972 (turning instead to religion, calligraph, painting and yoga). Despite the relatively small time he actively took photographs, his work has bequeathed the world a beautiful legacy, and won the admiration of many, not least the great Henri Cartier Bresson who in 1958 recommended that Larrain join him as part of the prestigious Magnum Photo agency.

More than any other photographer, Larrain teaches us that it is the state of seeing that enables us to take the best photographs, not anything else. He challenges us with the simple truth (often echoed by other artists) that the photograph is always there, albeit often hidden. It is for us to discover, reveal even ‘receive’ it. In a book of his work, “Sergio Larrain: Vagabond Photographer” by Agnes Sire, a letter Larrain sent to his nephew in response to a request for advice is published. The whole letter is a great read, but one part really stood out for me:

“You´ll need just to walk around a lot, sitting down under a tree somewhere or other … a solitary stroll in the universe, which suddenly you are really seeing for the first time. The conventional world is a screen, you have to get out from behind it – when you take photographs”.

I have written before about the mystery that for me seems to be at the heart of the photography I aspire to, and which too often seems to allude us, or only allow us a fleeting glimpse before disappearing behing the veil once more. Perhaps we shouldn't hope for more, perhaps, in this life at least, like Blake's joy, it is only meant to be touched briefly:

He who binds to himself a joy
Does the winged life destroy;
But he who kisses the joy as it flies
Lives in eternity's sunrise.

That said, Larrain seemed to capture that magical essence more than most. One of my favourite photographs of his (and many others I am sure) is of two girls walking down steps in a passage way in Valparaíso, Chile. It is deceptively simple, and yet the photograph of the figures, set in the context of a harmonious, exquisite canvas of geometrical shapes or light and shadow, is superb. The photograph is mentioned in his obituary in The Guardian:

Larrain recalled taking it “in a state of peace and utter serenity, just pursuing what at the time interested me most. Then, as if from nowhere, first one little girl appeared, shortly joined by another. It was more than perfect, it was a magical image.” Agnes Sire, for 20 years desk editor of Magnum (Paris), described it as taken in “not so much a decisive moment as in the state of spirit that he called a state of grace”.

I have no idea why so much of Larrain’s work has such a profound effect on myself (as well as others), but I my closest guess is that there is a ‘rightness’ in the juxtaposition of geometry and subject matter that resonates in some way with an internalised perception of the world which in itself could arise for a harmony found in creation itself. It seems to have nothing to do with the camera, the sharpness of the image or the inherent beauty of the subject.

Larrain’s picture taken on a boat “Between Chiloe Island and Puerto Montt” in 1957 is a case in point. Even at a small size the inherent quality of the shapes within the picture are apparent …

… and the larger size shows the quality of the total image.

It seems to me that I’m inexplicably haunted with Larrain’s photographs. I completely agree with him that there are moments of ‘utter serenity’ in life when things seem to slow down, a calmness descends, a stillness settles, and you can begin to see things differently. Perhaps this should be the ultimate goal of the photographer, and Larrain’s greatest lesson, not rushing to capture the image, but finding the space within us to ‘receive’ it.

Further reading

I can’t begin to give justice to Sergio Larrain’s work on this blog (although no doubt I will return to it again). I would recommend the following links and encourage readers to find books of his photographs. I particularly like “London 1958-59” and “Sergio Larrain: Vagabond Photographer” by Agnes Sire.

• Larrain’s collection at Magnum Photos

• En Angel Caido

• The Guardian’s obituary of Larrain by Amanda Hopkinson

• Larrain’s books from Aperture

Please   email me should you have a comment or query relating to this post.

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