Magnum force

Two years ago, Magnum, arguably the most famous photojournalism agency in the world for the past 50 years, was mired in a financial crisis. Then came September 11.

”It was happenstance,” says the agency’s new president, Thomas Hoepker, speaking from New York.

”We just happened to have had our monthly meeting the night before, and the next day there were 12 photographers in New York who would normally be dispersed throughout the country. That morning we all fanned out. I collected the pictures the next day, did a layout, we found a publisher immediately, and in late October we had the book. It was a shocking event, of course, but a boon to Magnum. We donated a big chunk [of the proceeds] to the families. The rest went to Magnum and helped us to make profits for the past two years.”

Things have not been going well for independent photography agencies since the mid-90s. The giants, Getty and Corbis, have virtually obliterated the small agencies that served the world’s journalists for a century. Three years ago, Hoepker reveals, both agencies made bids to swallow up Magnum.

”What has been happening,” he says, ”is a steady shift away from photo-journalism. Art is filling the void that has been left by the lack of a photojournalist base. Whereas before we probably made 80% of our money from magazine work, now we are making 60% or our money in art sales.”

So Magnum pictures are leaving the printed page and going on the wall. I reminded Hoepker that perhaps its most illustrious member, the 95-year-old Henri Cartier-Bresson, made it clear only a few months ago that he did not approve of photographs being hung on walls; they must be in books, he said.

Indeed, he chose the eve of the French Bibliothèque Nationale’s massive exhibition of his own work to make this characteristically trouble-making statement to Le Monde.

”I personally agree,” Hoepker says. ”I don’t like the idea of a print on a gallery wall. I feel that our trade specifically was working for newspapers and magazines. I feel uncomfortable considering photography as art. But I must say I have come around for several reasons.”

One is the artistic patina that time gives old prints; the other is that the Magnum membership is able to accommodate photographers who are not strictly photojournalists, such as Harry Gruyaert. ”He is more a poet,” Hoepker says.

Magnum has a core of about 50 photographers who look at the work of new applicants at their annual meeting. About two are accepted each year and they become ”nominees” who have to resubmit work after two years. If they are successful, they have to wait another two years to become associate members. Then, after an interval of two, sometimes three years, they are accepted as full members. The total, including newcomers and others ”fading away”, is around 70.

The last philosophical crisis for Magnum was the acceptance of colour. ”Traditionally we are black and white,” Hoepker says. ”It was never a policy not to accept colour photographers. But acceptance came rather late and reluctantly. I am absolutely in favour. I am a colour photographer. The market called for colour and of course we have a few great colour photographers. There is Alex Webb [American], Gruyaert [Belgian] and Martin Parr [British].”

Hoepker, a German-born former Stern photographer, joined the agency in 1989. He is known for his often abstract colour photographs as well as a portrait portfolio featuring, notably, Willy Brandt and Muhammad Ali. Does he accept that TV has almost completely taken over war reportage, once the near-exclusive preserve of Magnum photographers?

”No I don’t agree,” he says. ”Of course, TV is the first medium you look at. But there is dissatisfaction with TV because there are no good images. There may be newsy images — if you look at CNN, you can see the action as it unfolds — but you rarely see a strong image. What is surprising is, it was the same thing for September 11. All the TV images you have seen, they kind of disappear, evaporate from your mind. What stays is still images. People told us when we brought out the book that they wanted something they could hold in their hand.”

Magnum is now producing a book on Afghanistan. ”Not just about the war,” Hoepker says. ”It will be the history of Afghanistan over the past 50 years.” During the war in Iraq, the agency chose not to ”embed” its photographers. And, according to Hoepker, ”Some of us found ourselves in Kurdistan, where nothing was happening.”

So what happens now? Despite pressure from the likes of Getty and Corbis, Hoepker is determined not to let Magnum be absorbed by another company. ”We are a dwarf next to the two giants,” he says. ”With multimillion, multibillion dollars behind them, they were trying to take over the market. They tried in a gentle way. They offered us a portal on their websites — you click and you would see Magnum on the Corbis/Getty website and that, of course, was tempting, because it would drive many people to our archive. But in the end we voted against it, to keep our independence. It was a difficult decision and it cost us a lot because we had to construct our own digital website and scan in our pictures.

”Compared with these gigantic markets,” he says, ”we are a niche market — a boutique, if you wish. We want to keep it that way. We want to keep the quality and hope that people will come to us if they want something special. It is sometimes hard to keep integrity, but that is what holds us together.”