His methods were basic: photograms, pictures without negatives, bird’s eye views, shooting corrugated paper and lighting. He also preferred an 8x10 view camera. (In 1946 Callahan was hired by László Moholy-Nagy to teach photography at the Institute of Design in Chicago , now part of Illinois Institute of Technology. He became a Master photographer, the caliber of Ansel Adams.)

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BURIED FOR 50 YEARS

My father had his own studio: I would take the bus after school to be with him-- eager to see in the dark next to a man who exalted in darkroom creativity. I learned the processes of dodging and enlarging with a love a child could understand. My first exposure to photography was with large view cameras that held 8x10 negatives, and my fondest memories of his studio were the prints drying on metal ferrotype flats, strewn all over the office, as I anxiously awaited the finished print, that curled off and needed flattening. His life work was finally going to be recognized in a journal when his death ended any interest by the editor. If I had been out of high school, I might have taken over his studio, but instead I tossed his negatives, unbeknownst to me of their value, of an unknown soldier who sent home war pictures in uniform, and up-coming stars like Marlene Dietrich. All I have left of his astonishing work are family studio portraits and a historical home movie in 16 mm of my seventh birthday.

My first camera was a Kodak brownie, but my father bought me a used SLR Minolta, a cheaper version of the Rolli when I was 12. He taught me how to see, to frame the picture and to “smile with your eyes.” After I graduated from the University of Illinois, I was inspired to study photography formally. I took classes at the Chicago Institute of Design, from 1953 to 1955 and my teacher was Harry Callahan¹. When My mother dropped out of school at 16, and worked diligently at a clerical job after my father died to support me through college. In 1956, when she passed away at age 56 after several heart attacks, I rationalized that she would want me to use my father’s insurance money to travel and pursue my photography.

I FORGOT I RECORDED THE PAST:

At age 25 I took the Liberte, a French Line ship from New York to LeHarve in 1957. I planned six weeks in Europe, one week in England, one in France and four in Italy. I was not a Zionist in 1957 and had not intended to go to Israel, but my Hebrew teacher at the College of Jewish Studies in Chicago (now Spertus), convinced me that I should add an Israel portion to my already planned six-week Europe trip; my first trip out of the country. I justified the trip as a much-needed respite from the hospital visits caring for my mother. She had never recovered from my father’s death and refused to accompany me to California where her sister lived. I asked her doctor what would happen if I left her, and he replied, “It would kill her.”

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"Four Sailors"

Yvette Hoffer, 1957