Tributes to George Platt Lynes (1907-1955)
The photographer George Platt Lynes (1907-1955) took fashion photographs, nude photographs (especially male), and ballet photographs. There are dance-goers today who dislike his pictures, but the exceptional terms in which the choreographer George Balanchine praised him are startling: “I consider that George Lynes synthesised better than anyone else the atmosphere of some of my ballets….. George Lynes pictures will contain, as far as I am concerned, all that will be remembered of my own repertory in a hundred years.”
Balanchine, though often memorably eloquent in spoken English, generally lacked the confidence in his written English to publish a statement or letter without assistance. On this occasion, he was writing on Thanksgiving Day 1956 in Copenhagen, a month after his wife Tanaquil Le Clercq had been afflicted with polio there. Probably his choice of words was made by Lincoln Kirstein, through whom he had met Lynes. Nonetheless Balanchine did not issue published statements without approving them; and this tribute to Lynes, who had died the year before, is of great interest to all devotees of Balanchine’s work.
Lynes’s attention to light, movement, the human figure, and drama made him a kindred spirit to Balanchine, to the painter-designer Pavel Tchelitchew (1898-1957) and to the lighting designer Jean Rosenthal (1912-1969). Of especial interest is the paragraph (plate 8) in which Balanchine says Lynes’s figures “seemed to exist in an actual aery ambience, akin to the three-dimensional vitality in sculpture…. Dance has more kinship to sculpture than to painting. Paul Valéry said that Degas did natures-mortes (still-lives) of dancers. It was not movement, physical action that interested him; it was the bouquet, the atmosphere of performance, the style. <Plate 9> I consider that George Lynes synthesized better than anyone else the atmosphere of some of my ballets.”
Lynes actually photographed Frederick Ashton’s 1934 staging of Four Saints in Three Acts before he did any Balanchine staging; but in 1935 he began to depict the American Ballet, in Balanchine’s Errante (plate 16). Once Balanchine and Tchelitchew staged Gluck’s Orpheus and Eurydice at the Metropolitan Opera House in 1936, Lynes became an integral part of the Balanchine enterprise. (It’s worth noting that Cecil Beaton, a yet more celebrated photographer of the day, also photographed this Orpheus production. I wish someone would investigate the Lynes-Beaton connection.)
Kirstein had known him for many years. While Lynes and he were in their mid-teens, Lynes had been a dazzling editor through whom Kirstein had discovered the poetry of T.S.Eliot. In their early twenties, Lynes had led Kirstein to discover, in Europe, Gertrude Stein, Ezra Pound, and Jean Cocteau, and to meet Tchelitchew.
From 1938 onward, Lynes photographed ballets made by other choreographers for Kirstein’s American Ballet Caravan. Lynes and Kirstein became part of a network of friends, many of them gay men, who also included Glenway Westcott, Tchelitchew, Cecil Beaton, and Monroe Wheeler. In December 1944, Kirstein published Photographs by George Platt Lynes as an issue of Dance Index. After the formation of New York City Ballet, Lynes photographed many of its productions.
He always worked in the studio. When the ballets were by Balanchine, the choreographer came to the studio to supervise the session. Balanchine nonetheless knew that the photographs were not his work but Lynes’s.
In early 1955, Lynes learnt that he had advanced lung cancer. He was already in contact with the sexologist Alfred Kinsey, whose 1948 and 1953 reports on male and female sexuality had shaken up American society; and he arranged for the Kinsey Institute to take the majority of his photographs, many of which would have been considered pornographic and might have been destroyed.
Lynes died near the end of 1955. Kirstein soon began to commission and collect tributes to him for a commemorative New York City Ballet souvenir program. When that forty-page program was published in 1958, after the premieres of Balanchine’s Agon (1957) and Stars and Stripes (1958), it served a second purpose, celebrating City Ballet’s active repertory while honouring Lynes. The tributes to Lynes (plates 7-14) make quite an artistic galaxy; although the one by the superlative critic Edwin Denby is not Denby’s finest work, it’s rare, having never been included in any Denby anthology. Four mistakes leap out to my eye: Lynes’s death is given as 1956; the photograph of Balanchine is also given as 1956; Tchelitchew’s name is misspelt; and Kirstein’s makes his habitual but erroneous claim that it was through Lynes and Tchelitchew that he met Balanchine. (Kirstein’s 1933 diaries show that, although he hoped to meet Balanchine in Paris through Tchelitchew, he failed to do so. Instead he was introduced to Balanchine in London by Frederick Ashton.)
The cover photograph of Maria Tallchief and Nicholas Magallanes in Symphony in C alone establishes Lynes’s greatness as a photographer. Sculptural qualities are charged with intense energy. Line and shape become high drama as Tallchief’s musculature claims light and air at full stretch.
Tuesday 10 August