Bernd and Hilla Becher

The black-and-white photographs of industrial architecture taken by Bernd and Hilla Becher are startling in their ordinary nature. Some of these images are even familiar to residents of Buffalo and Lackawanna, cities within this country’s "Rust Belt." To drive along the Niagara River and Lake Erie necessitates passing these buildings, monuments to industrial prowess that were, historically, the essence of the area's economic development. Just as revealing is their present state of deterioration and the large tracts of barren, darkened land where thousands once worked in structures that encompass several neighborhood blocks. Most of the plants, built to surround furnaces exceeding the size of houses, have been eliminated because they are no longer viable or productive. Buffalo was once the largest producer of flour in the world; the concrete elevators built to hold grain on such a scale are physical manifestations of such a distinction. Now dormant, these walls of weathered concrete have an undeniable presence that quietly overwhelms the viewer. The present debate surrounding these elevators, which have inspired modern architecture, centers on the cost of preservation and future utilization. While fully appreciative of the significance of such structures, the Bechers concentrate on photographing industrial architecture without introducing sentimentality or drama in their compositions.

Their photographs are not made in the spirit of a visual cause, nor are they an attempt to prevent the demise of what man has made because of beauty or history. The Bechers recognize the temporary nature of such structures:

All this architecture is nomadic, not sacred. They are not built to transport ideas or values into the future. This architecture exists to produce a special product, and then the building is abandoned. There has been no natural history of these individual industrial forms.1

The idea is to show that aspects of the industrial world are not rational; that from a rational or functional base, things can become irrational. So Tinguely (Swiss artist, b. 1925-1991) made machines that didn’t work or which destroyed themselves. This irrationality is in the economic structure as well. Each plant produces as much as possible. The plant has to grow to survive, it has to become bigger and more productive. They become bigger because there’s belief that growth is unlimited. But growth itself is not… they are like dinosaurs. And they have consumed each other.2

It is this sensibility and understanding of economics – and what it has wrought – that first inspired the Bechers to photograph industrial architecture. Although Bernd first studied painting and Hilla photography, they shared a fascination with the subject of industrial architecture. They realized their common interest after meeting at and advertising agency in Dusseldorf, where they both worked. Hilla later became the first instructor in photography at the Staatlichen Kunstakademie, Dusseldorf; she was subsequently joined there by her husband. They have dramatically influenced their students, some of whom are now recognized in their own right, including Andreas Gursky, Thomas Ruff, and Thomas Struth. The medium of photography allowed the Bechers to compose an objective image of anonymous architecture – from the family mine to the corporate steel mill – constructed for, and sometimes left behind, by industry. They first considered the structures associated with iron-ore mines; later, they included blast furnaces that were closing in the old industrial region south of Westphalia, Germany, where Bernd resided. Since then, they have photographed in the United States as well as Europe. In 1970, they published Anonymous Sculptures and A Typology of Technical Constructions, followed by Framework Houses from the Siegen Industrial Area, 1977. Over the next two decades, a selection of images from several series have been published in book form including Water Towers, Blast Furnaces, Pennsylvania Mine Tipples, Gas Tanks, and in 1995, Industrial Facades.

The Bechers’ photographs are exhibited individually, but more commonly in groupings that they specifically arrange. It is their organization of the thousands of images into typologies that encourages further attention to the subtlety and variation of like structures. The apparent simplicity of each photograph is the result of deliberate choices that produce the most legible image; an understanding of the essence of each subject is critical to their approach. Using a large-format camera and confronting their subject head-on in the tradition of nineteenth-century documentation, they produce images of extreme clarity. They prefer overcast skies, intentionally excluding the drama of natural light and shadow:

One tries to be honest and not cheat. It’s very easy to cheat and to make very glamorous pictures with these forms.3

They maintain a constant distance from their subject so that distortion does not occur. Each print is always the same size, and each is framed similarly. The similarity of each image encourages comparison of the variation and subtlety within a type. It is the regularity of the format, rather than a sense of repetition, which is critical to the final analysis of their work. While each series remains ongoing, the artists are selective in choosing their subjects; they prefer to find typical examples that fulfill a type, rather than locating a duplicate in a different location. Structures that reveal their function are of greatest interest to the Bechers; this, in part, explains the avoidance of nuclear plants, since these structures conceal, rather than reveal, the reasons for their existence.

We are fully aware of the fact that industry and progress is good and bad. That it is awful in excess and that there are certain laws built in to the system that are really unnecessary and brutal. On the other hand we are not moralists. We couldn’t judge this and photography isn’t really made for judgements of this kind.4

- Cheryl Brutvan, Senior Curator

Bernd and Hilla Becher
Bernd und Hilla Becher