Bernd and Hilla Becher: Life and Work (Susanne Lange, 2006)

Years ago I would leaf through Choice cards for ideas of what books to buy for my library. It was an old-timey library as you might have guessed from seeing me use the term "Choice cards". Anyway, that's what I did at the reference desk between helping patrons until my boss thought I was secretly undermining her authority and asked me to leave, but that's another story (but I will say that she quit the library world altogether a few years back, and there was much rejoicing - may she never return!). Ahem, so these cards guided what books would be good for the library, but I kept notes on books that seemed interesting to me, but would serve no good purpose for the library. These would be tracked down later and enjoyed on my own time. Time passed and the selections worked their way up my reading queue, and the next thing you know I needed to find a copy of Bernd and Hilla Becher: Life and Work...stat! Thankfully it was the Berkeley Public Library to the rescue, but this title, in the few places it is held, more often than not does not circulate.

Now what in the world possessed me to want to read this book? Needless to say, art/photography titles are pretty rare on my to-read list. I think the last one was Art For All, a collection of posters and essays about the London Underground. As for this book specifically, I think it's because I've had a weird relationship with industrial architecture. I remember being terrified of big factories as a kid. I have no idea why. Maybe they seemed dirty, or perhaps they made me feel insignificant. It didn't help that I had books like The Lorax and The Wump World telling me they were destroying our environment (and yet automobiles did not have this effect?). So perhaps it was a "fear your fears" moment, to sit down with a book filled with images of blast furnaces, gasometers, and other beastly contraptions. I didn't know a thing about the Bechers, so the essays were insightful, though complicated, as to what motivated one to take pictures of buildings most people find ugly. It turns out that if nothing else, I felt kind of sad about these buildings. Many of them no longer exist, and in some cases they were demolished immediate after (or even before!) the Bechers went to document them. The buildings are considered "anonymous architecture", meaning nobody really seemed to know or care who designed or built them. In fact, many people, especially in the United States, had no idea why the Bechers would want to take pictures of these god-awful things, and were more invested in keeping an eye of them like they were masters of industrial espionage.

All in all, the book was fine. However, if you just want to look at pictures of water towers and mine shafts, you may not find the essays all that interesting. While I'm glad I spent the time learning about two German photographers and their methodology, it is relatively academic-slanted writing which at times may only make sense to hardcore photographers. A lot of it deals with old-school film-based photography, so I would be curious about what the Bechers thought of digital photography, which has all but rebuilt the landscape of professional photography. While both were probably aware of these changes (Bernd died in 2007 and Hilla in 2015), you won't learn anything about that here.

Here's a pro-tip for locating a hard-to-find book: Unleash the power of interlibrary loan! Many public libraries will acquire out-of-print and hard-to-find books for you to borrow, typically for free or just a small fee to cover shipping. If you are not fixated on ownership, this is a great way to read deeper into authors and subjects. Keep in mind if you are prone to returning books late or losing them, the fees for your misbehavior can be staggering, but otherwise, give it a shot! As was my case, many California libraries use Link Plus to handle these loans, and it worked like a champ for me both times. If it's not available through Link Plus, I usually exploit my own library's interlibrary loan system, but that is fairly rare (and generally the privilege of being a librarian!).