Vogue. Harper’s Bazaar. Life. Réalités. Frank Horvat presented intimate photo reportages and revolutionized the way fashion photography was done within the pages of the most influential global magazines. The largest retrospective of his work since the photographer's death in 2020, featuring photographs taken between 1950 and 1965, is on view at the Jeu de Paume in Paris.
In pursuit of private obsessions
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When I worked as a model, fashion held secondary importance for me. The most significant, enjoyable, and eagerly awaited aspect was working with artists. Perhaps that's why I greatly admire photographers who can present fashion in a way that becomes a narrative rather than a mere documentation of trends. One such photographer is Frank Horvat, whose retrospectiveconsisting of nearly 170 largely unpublished photographs and 70 original documents, is now on view at the Jeu de Paume in Paris. As I attend the exhibition, which documents the first 15 years of the photographer's professional career, I fantasize about the woman he would have seen in me. I like to imagine photoshoots that never took place. Before photographing models, Horvat worked as a photojournalist. In 1947, he started studying painting at Brera in Milan, but quickly swapped his brushes for a camera. Abandoning his studies, he captured his first amateur photo reportage during a visit to his father in Israel in 1949, and two years later, his first professional publication appeared in the Italian weekly Epoca. From the beginning, he aimed high—his ultimate goal was to work for the agency representing the world's most distinguished photojournalists, Magnum. When one of its founders, Henri Cartier-Bresson, during a meeting in Paris advised him to buy a Leica camera, Horvat didn't hesitate. However, before photographing the streets of the French
capital, he first embarked on a two-year journey to India and Pakistan. He said that the truth of photography lies in the fact that the viewer believes in what they experience while looking at the photo. When I look at his photo reportages taken in Asia, I
experience the density of the air in the streets, the heaviness of the bodies of hashish and opium smokers, the solemnity of local ceremonies, and the unhurried waiting in the red-light district. The photographs are densely filled with life, energy, and the intimacy of the situations. The subjects often fix their gaze on something happening outside the frame. Capturing gazes is one of Horvat's
greatest obsessions. Following personal preferences rather than documenting global events is what he defined as the quintessence of his photojournalistic work.
Women of Frank Horvat
I seek out the women who captivated Horvat's attention. The first ones that stop me for longer are the prostitutes from Bois de Boulogne in Paris, photographed in 1956. Caught during a break from work, or perhaps while waiting for someone to hire them, they look unassuming to the point that, without the photo's description, I wouldn't have realized who they were. I don't see their sexuality, but instead, I see a naturalness, a subtle charm. Although they are in a group, each one seems absorbed in her own world. Their individuality is emphasized by the varied poses, captured in a cinematic- like frame. I have no doubts about who women working at Le Sphinx club, shown in the subsequent photos, are. The naked bodies of the dancers from Place Pigalle draw attention, but more on how they look, I focus on what they express. In their movements, gestures, and gazes, I see introspection, melancholy, and mechanical seduction. Horvat knew how to reveal an intimacy that went beyond the purely physical. I return once again to the photo of the prostitutes from Bois de Boulogne. I look at their modest, unpretentious clothing. They contrast both with the sequined and feathered nudity of the dancers and with the collections from Parisian runways photographed a few years later, which I notice at the other end of the room. I see the diversity, but I don't sense any judgment. Horvat gave these women, who practiced various forms of pretending, the space to simply be themselves.
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The world of unposed fashion
The 1950s was a time of flourishing press, including the world of fashion magazines. In 1957, the editors of Jardin des Modes magazine, weary of posed and overly-stylized studio photographs, urged Horvat to collaborate with them. Despite declaring from the start that he had no real interest in fashion itself, the photographer agreed. He cared little for dress designs or brand names; what
he wanted to show was authenticity. To defend this authenticity, he retained three elements fromhis photojournalistic work: his Leica camera, natural daylight, and the models' natural style of work. He disliked directing them. Even while working on studio editorials, where chance played a smaller role compared to the streets, he was most interested in capturing moments over which he had no decisive control. In his fashion shots, there are no longer women keeping their identities private, labeled with generic terms like "prostitute," "stripper," or "hostess." They are replaced by women who dream of having their names on everyone's lips. His models are magnetic, yet not intimidating. I particularly like when they don't look into the lens, as if they were absorbed in their own inner worlds. Horvat chose strong women; he photographed personalities. In front of his camera, we see not only models but also individuals like director Agnès Varda, businesswoman Helena Rubinstein, or actress Anna Karina. His career developed rapidly. In 1959, he fulfilled his dream and began his collaboration with Magnum (even though his fellow photojournalists didn’t appreciate Horvat's romance with fashion, he himself considered fashion photography a fully valid means of artistic expression; this difference ultimately lead to the end of his collaboration with the agency). In 1960, he started working with British Vogue, where he carried out his first studio sessions. Here, the models have more space, the frames are cleaner, and the set more minimalistic, precisely constructed. Although elegant, this emptiness of space speaks to me less. I prefer when Horvat immerses the models in real life, observing them alongside passersby, vendors, and waiters who remain in the frame. Horvat also had his preferences. He admitted that he disliked one of his most recognizable photos, "Givenchy hat" (Jardin des Modes, 1958). He believed it contained too much posing. He remained committed to defending authenticity to the end.
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As I prepare to leave, I take one last look at the photo reportages taken in the 1960s. I have the impression that it's in these moments when Horvat didn’t have to focus on fashion, clothing paradoxically captured his attention more. He himself once said that photography is an attempt to understand, regardless of whether the lens is focused on a place, a person, or an object. The photos I saw here don't reignite my interest in fashion. Instead, they deepen my appreciation for the body, which serves as a carrier not just for garments but, above all, for stories.