About a year ago I found myself at an estate sale. It was Sunday, everything-left-is-half-price-day and I sat on the floor surrounded by a stack of books. Even at 1 1/2 off they remained especially pricey. But alas, their previous owner had to have been a kindred spirit and try as I might, my stack of wants had grown much too large.
As I sat there trying my best to whittle my stack down, my mind wondered about what I might have missed by not showing up till Sunday. I aways find myself thinking like this if I am not there on the first day of an estate sale. If these wonderful books were the leftovers, what, pray tell, had already been sold over the previous two days of the sale?
Eugene Atget (February 12, 1857 – August 4, 1927) as photographed by Berenice Abbott
Looking back now I'm sure that my poor husband could see the glee on my face. I don't think he had the heart to tell me to put half of the books back. In the end all was well thanks to the kind cashier who said something akin to "Oh hell take 'em all for $15."
One of the books that came home with me that day was A Vision of Paris: The Photographs of Eugene Atget, the Words of Marcel Proust. Edited with an Introduction by Arthur D Tronteberg, Photographs from the collection of Berenice Abbott.
Berenice Abbott
"This volume does bring together the work of two superlative artists so that the art of one may both illuminate and reinforce the art of the other." Arthur D. Trottenberg
Berenice Abbott?
I was not familiar with her but come to find out she was an incredibly talented photographer in her own right. While working as an assistant to Man Ray, she discovered the works of Atget and quickly became a regular visitor to his tiny atelier. Thanks to Man Ray, Abbott and Calmettes for doing much to insure that his works were not lost for all time.
From a Vision of Paris: "Atget became seriously ill in 1927...In August he sent a note by messenger to his old friend Andre Calmettes; "I am at my last gasp, come quickly!" Calmettes arrived too late, and Atget died alone and helpless. It was Calmette too, who in a letter to Berenice Abbott, penned the only apporopriateepitaph; "may all those who are interested in what he loved so much, that is to say Paris and its art treasures, or in looking at the beautiful pictures Atget made of it, still pronounce sometimes his name, which was that of a strong, courageous artist, of a an admirble imagier."
After the death of Atget, Andre Calmettes divided his negatives and prints between the French government and Bernice Abbott who continued to promote Atget throughout her lifetime.
Marcel Proust (1871-1922)
"While as for her figure, and she was admirable built, it was impossible to
make out its continuity (on account of the fashion then prevailing, and in spite
of her being one of the best -dressed women in Paris) for the corset, jetting forwards in an arch, as thought over an imaginary stomach, and ending in
a sharp point, beneath which bulged out the balloon of her double skirt, gave a woman that year,
the appearance of being composed of different sections badly fitted together..." Marcel Proust
"...lobbies as long as corridors and as ornate as drawing-rooms, which had the air rather of being there themselves than of forming part of a dwelling." Marcel Proust
Following are additional images from the book accompanied by the words of Marcel Proust. I promise to try and share more from this wonderful book in the future.
Enjoy.
"And I felt that, should I ever have to leave this aristocratic quarter-
unless it were to move to one that was entirely plebien-the streets and
boulevards of central Paris (where the fruit, fish and other trades, stabilised in huge stores, rendered superfluous the cries of the street hawkers, who for that matter would not have been able tot make themselves heard) would seem to me very dreary,
quite uninhabitable, stripped, drained of all these litanies of the small trades
and peripatetic victuals, deprived of the orchestra that returned every morning
to charm me"
Marcel Proust
"It must be remarked that Odette's face appeared more thinner and more
prominent than it actually was, beacause her forehead and the upper part of
her cheeks, a single and almost plane surface, were covered by a masses of
hair which women wore at this time period, drawn forward in a fringe, raised
in crimped waves and falling in stray locks over her ears."
Marcel Proust
I saw what had appeared to me to be not worth twenty francs when it had been offered to me for twenty francs in the house ill fame, where it was then for me simply a woman desirous of earning twenty francs, might be worth more than one's family,
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