In memory of Helmut Newton
Benedikt Taschen on Helmut Newton - the man who ended his more-than-rich life with a big crash
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I met Helmut Newton for the first time in Berlin in 1986. Ever since I was a boy I had been intrigued by his photos which I knew from magazines like Stern. Besides his gorgeous, glamouros and strong women, there was something else which fascinated me. Helmut Newton represented a lost culture comprising both the bourgeois and the bohemian; the cultivated and the sinful Berlin of the Weimar Republic. An unknown civilization, yet a part of the Germany of which I was proud of, it was familiar to me only through movies like von Sternberg's "Blue Angel", music from Kurt Weills "Dreigroschenoper" and the paintings by Otto Dix and George Grosz.
Back to Berlin, back to my first meeting with the already legendary photographer in the lobby of the Hotel Savoy. I introduced myself as publisher of artbooks, affordable to everyone and said "Mr. Newton, I love your big nudes. Can we make bedsheets out of them. They would be affordable to ordinary people, like 'Newton for the poor'?". That struck him with surprise and I then realized that this man was cool: a modest, friendly man, looking at least 15 years younger than his age. He had a sparkle in his eye like a young boy, one of the rarest qualities of mankind: eyes which look upon all things (including me) with freshness and curiosity. He laughed and the great Newton said: "Well, let's see... why not. Send me samples... But you should stop smoking." That sounded encouraging and I began the sample production which, unfortunately, didn't turn out promising and certainly not remotely sexy, more like "Veronica's veil". Yet I dared to send these sheets to him and the other tests came out even worse.
It was definitively worth a try and - in film-language - the beginning of a great friendship.
Years later, in the lobby of a Hollywood hotel, I made another attempt to work with Helmut Newton. Why shouldn't the greatest contemporary photographer have the grandest contemporary I could make. I suggested a really huge book, produced in state-of- the- art, cutting-edge, quality, but still in the tradition of great 19th Century bookmaking .. Again I saw his eyes beam with surprise, and in the next instant he was on the phone with his wife saying in his excited boyish voice: "Junie, you have to come see THIS!". She came, looked equally in awe at the proposed Newton book, and became the editor of the eighty pound "SUMO" which was described in Vanity Fair as the "biggest bound volume produced in the 20th Century".
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Page [1] [2]
I met Helmut Newton for the first time in Berlin in 1986. Ever since I was a boy I had been intrigued by his photos which I knew from magazines like Stern. Besides his gorgeous, glamouros and strong women, there was something else which fascinated me. Helmut Newton represented a lost culture comprising both the bourgeois and the bohemian; the cultivated and the sinful Berlin of the Weimar Republic. An unknown civilization, yet a part of the Germany of which I was proud of, it was familiar to me only through movies like von Sternberg's "Blue Angel", music from Kurt Weills "Dreigroschenoper" and the paintings by Otto Dix and George Grosz.
Back to Berlin, back to my first meeting with the already legendary photographer in the lobby of the Hotel Savoy. I introduced myself as publisher of artbooks, affordable to everyone and said "Mr. Newton, I love your big nudes. Can we make bedsheets out of them. They would be affordable to ordinary people, like 'Newton for the poor'?". That struck him with surprise and I then realized that this man was cool: a modest, friendly man, looking at least 15 years younger than his age. He had a sparkle in his eye like a young boy, one of the rarest qualities of mankind: eyes which look upon all things (including me) with freshness and curiosity. He laughed and the great Newton said: "Well, let's see... why not. Send me samples... But you should stop smoking." That sounded encouraging and I began the sample production which, unfortunately, didn't turn out promising and certainly not remotely sexy, more like "Veronica's veil". Yet I dared to send these sheets to him and the other tests came out even worse.
It was definitively worth a try and - in film-language - the beginning of a great friendship.
Years later, in the lobby of a Hollywood hotel, I made another attempt to work with Helmut Newton. Why shouldn't the greatest contemporary photographer have the grandest contemporary I could make. I suggested a really huge book, produced in state-of- the- art, cutting-edge, quality, but still in the tradition of great 19th Century bookmaking .. Again I saw his eyes beam with surprise, and in the next instant he was on the phone with his wife saying in his excited boyish voice: "Junie, you have to come see THIS!". She came, looked equally in awe at the proposed Newton book, and became the editor of the eighty pound "SUMO" which was described in Vanity Fair as the "biggest bound volume produced in the 20th Century".
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Helmut Newton, Benedikt Taschen and SUMO on its table designed by Philippe Starck, Cologne, July 7, 1999. Photo: Alice Springs