Eleanor c. 1948

Editor: Here we have Harry Callahan's "Eleanor," circa 1948, a gelatin silver print. It's striking how abstract it is. I almost didn't recognize it as a nude at first glance. The stark contrast between light and shadow gives it a real sense of mystery. What’s your take? Curator: It’s funny you say 'mystery', I always think of this photograph as an incredibly tender portrayal of intimacy. Callahan was deeply moved by his wife Eleanor; she was his muse and collaborator. He captured her in such diverse ways - street scenes, domestic settings, and these wonderfully close, sensual nudes. Do you get a sense of that affection, even without seeing her face? Editor: I can see that. There's a vulnerability there. The lack of a face does make it universal though, almost like he’s celebrating the beauty of the human form. Curator: Precisely. He focuses on the form, the curves, and plays with the light in such a way that it’s almost sculptural. Callahan wasn’t interested in shock value; it’s a quiet appreciation of beauty, wouldn't you agree? It makes you want to touch it, not in a crude way, but to feel its warmth, the flesh. Editor: It's definitely making me reconsider how I initially saw it. That initial mystery I sensed might just be the intimacy I wasn’t prepared for. Curator: That's the power of art, isn’t it? It transforms you with multiple views that are, perhaps, hidden to most of the crowd. It lingers and alters. That’s always been the impression Callahan’s Eleanor left for me: simple, yet sensual and everlasting.