Exhibition in a Pocket:

The Cartes Postales of André Kertész

Nancy Reinhold

Among the photographs by André Kertész in the Thomas

Walther Collection at The Museum of Modern Art, New
York, are twelve photographic postcards made in Paris in
the 1920s. These photographs, which Kertész made by
contact printing on silver gelatin developing-out postcard
stock, are a group whose beauty and scale make them
uniquely interesting among Kertész’s works. The postcards,
inexpensive and printed in a makeshift darkroom in the
artist’s rented room, were made between 1925 and 1928,
after he arrived in Paris and before he became a successful
photojournalist. They provide an intimate window into
this period of personal and creative transition.
Kertész’s life is, in most respects, well known. He
published at least twenty-one books and carefully
cultivated his image and legacy. He has been the subject fig. 1  André Kertész. Self-Portrait (André in the Darkroom). December 1927.
of countless books, catalogues, and articles. Lovingly © Higher Pictures
described by his friend and associate the author and
curator Robert Gurbo as a “true hoarder,” he kept many
of his letters, diaries, accounts, and documents, which
are now located in the archives of the Mission du
Patrimoine Photographique, in Paris.1 pictorial magazine Érdekes Újság also published photographs
He was born Andor Kertész in Budapest in 1894, the taken by the troops.4 It is famously said that much of
second of three brothers. In 1912, when he was sixteen, his soldiering is tedium, and many of Kertész’s images show
mother gave him and his younger brother, Jenö, a camera, soldiers and civilians going about their daily lives as they
and the brothers became close collaborators. By 1913, coped with war’s effects, but he also made some pictures in
André was signing his works, although he later said that combat; both kinds of photograph require tact, speed, and
some of them had actually been made by Jenö.2 Although anticipation, qualities evident in much of Kertész’s later
the brothers were self-taught photographers, it is clear work.5 During the war, Jenö continued to work with André,
from the pictures they made together that they had quickly sending him advice and a new camera and printing the
become both formally and technically sophisticated. Made negatives that he sent home. In October 1925 Kertész moved
at night with a long exposure, Bocskay-tér, Budapest (1914; to Paris to become a photojournalist, among many other
MoMA 1715.2001), for example, is visually arresting, an aspiring artists, and his images printed on postcard stock are
abstract yet mysterious image, deceptively complex with among the first works he made there. A year later the
both glowing highlights and deep shadows. (It is likely that Hungarian newspaper Magyar Hírlap called him the “sensa-
the enigmatic figure posed next to the building is Jenö.)3 tion of Montparnasse.”6 By 1927 he was a successful artist
To make this picture required a thorough understanding of and photojournalist; in 1936 he left Paris for New York, where
the medium, and the print has survived in excellent cond- he lived until his death, in 1985.
ition, with no significant image deterioration, a testament The cameras used by Kertész have been remarkably
to the brothers’ darkroom expertise. well documented by authors such as David Travis and
As a young conscript in the Austro-Hungarian army Sandra Phillips. Throughout his life he preferred small,
during World War I, Kertész carried a handheld camera and discreet cameras that enabled him to respond quickly to the
took photographs during his military tours and convales- scenes around him. In the 1920s he used the small and
cences. Although it seems surprising that the army lightweight cameras favored by reporters, which produced
permitted this activity, soldiers were in fact encouraged to film or glass-plate negatives in two sizes, 9 by 12 centimeters
raise money for war widows and orphans by taking (3 9/16 by 4 ¾ inches) or 4.5 by 6 centimeters (1 ¾ by 2 ⅜
photographs and selling them as postcards; the Hungarian inches), suitable for contact printing because of their

All works by André Kertész © Estate of André Kertész Reinhold 1

moderate size and fine grain. In 1928 he bought a Leica, an himself as an artist and photojournalist, professions that
even smaller camera, with a fast shutter and roll film that were not mutually exclusive. Money was tight enough that at
advanced quickly, making it easier for him to spontaneously one point his older brother, Imre, encouraged him to return
capture images. Kertész felt that the Leica was made for to Hungary because of the difficulty of his circumstances.13
him.7 This camera changed his work in the darkroom, too, Kertész kept a careful record of his expenses in account
since its 36 by 24 millimeter (1 7/16 by 1 inch) negatives were books, and he moved numerous times between October 1925
too small for producing contact prints, therefore making it and February 1926, making a portable darkroom a necessity.
necessary for Kertész to print them by enlargement. He photographed himself in one of these darkrooms in 1927
Kertész was an expert printer and a precise technician, (fig. 1): the setup in the image is basic, but the processing
even as he strove for spontaneity and naturalism in his trays are large enough to accommodate photographs bigger
imagery and, with the exception of cropping, was apparently than a postcard; in fact there are several extant enlarged
averse to manipulations such as experimental darkroom photographs from this period.
techniques and photomontage.8 He was opinionated on the Based on price lists and advertisements published
subject of how his photographs should be made: in 1923, still at the time, we know that postcard stock for photographers
struggling for recognition, he refused to reprint in bromoil was often more expensive than single-weight papers, by
an image he had submitted to a competition, which cost him about ten percent.14 Postcards were made on heavyweight
the silver medal. He later said of the episode, “I have always paper in order to withstand the wear and tear of being sent
known that photography can only be photography.”9 In
a letter from 1926 Jenö complimented his work, calling it
technically impeccable, but Kertész also believed that
technical perfection by itself “overshines the boot,” explain-
ing, “You have beautiful calligraphy, but it’s up to you what
you write with it.”10 In an interview near the end of his life
Kertész said, “Technique is only the minimum in photogra-
phy. It’s what one must start with. I believe you should be
a perfect technician in order to express yourself as you wish
and then you can forget about the technique.”11 Based on
the postcards in the Walther Collection, which represent
some of Kertész’s early work, it is clear that such exceptional
technique was there from the beginning.
The postcard format, which had become popular by the
1890s, would not have been unknown to Kertész when he
arrived in Paris. He had written postcards to his loved ones
during the war, and although some of his images from World
War I were destroyed or lost, a few commercially produced
postcards were made from the negatives that survived.
Among Kertész’s acquaintances and contemporaries in Paris
there were some photographers who used postcard stock,
including Man Ray and Germaine Krull, and although Kertész
stopped using it around 1928, the format continued to be
employed by both artists and amateurs. Luna Park, an
amusement park in Paris, featured a photographer who
made souvenir photographs on postcard stock; Man Ray and
Lee Miller were photographed together there.12 While
postcards were made popular by amateurs and were often
frivolous, for Kertész they were not casual or disposable.
The use of postcard paper by artistic photographers is
often explained as a function of economy. Postcard stock
was relatively inexpensive, and in an improvised darkroom
such as Kertész’s the process of contact printing from glass
or film negatives was simpler than printing enlargements.
Certainly these factors must have mattered to Kertész, who
did not have much money when he arrived in Paris. After
working briefly at a photographic studio, perhaps as a fig. 2  Advertisement for photographic paper manufactured by R. Guilleminot,
retoucher, he lived off of his savings while trying to establish Boespflug et Cie

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through the mail, and each was typically printed with which would explain its more reflective surface quality. Paul
the manufacturer’s logo on the reverse, requiring additional Messier has performed photomicrography of the prints’
materials and printing that certainly added to the cost. surfaces, and his preliminary results suggest that although
Kertész’s choice of postcard stock would have been a some of the postcards’ surfaces are a close match, others
combination of strategy and economy: although it was not show less correspondence. Nor does there appear to be
the cheapest paper available, it was inexpensive enough to a strong correlation among the postcards without margins
meet his practical needs; it also met his aesthetic require- (which may have been exhibition prints and are therefore
ments, and the double weight gives the prints a substantial presumably made using the highest quality paper).16
feel. There were other rich matte papers available at the time,
but Kertész seems to have been loyal to this one, made
by R. Guilleminot, Boespflug et Cie (fig. 2), which he started
using by 1925.
Kertész preferred this stock to those produced by
Lumière in France and Belgium, which he had been using
previously. Postcard stock was popular with many photogra-
phers because of its format, but Kertész must have chosen
this particular Guilleminot paper because of its characteris-
tic qualities; it has been said that he only gave up printing
on postcard stock when the Guilleminot paper was no longer
being produced.15 One advantage of using a single kind of
paper is that it produces predictable results, and Kertész’s
postcards have a remarkable consistency of tone, with the
meticulous lighting and careful compositions evident in
his earlier work, even as his subjects were various: portraits
made for personal and professional use, interiors, street
scenes, night scenes, exterior views, and still lifes.

To learn more about the postcards and their state of

preservation, as well as Kertész’s working methods and
the paper he used, I examined the Kertész photographic
postcards in the Walther Collection visually and with a
stereomicroscope in September 2012, in MoMA’s Paper and
Photograph Conservation Laboratory. I used both normal
and ultraviolet illumination to evaluate the works, and in
subsequent examinations I refined my observations about
each photograph.
The postcards are materially similar — although not
identical — to one another in most respects, and certain
features of the group have been revealed by technical
analysis (primarily fiber analysis) and X-ray fluorescence
(XRF) spectroscopy. Under high magnification the particles
of the surface are visible. The photographs do not fluoresce
in ultraviolet illumination, and they would not be expected
to, as photographs made at that time did not contain optical
brighteners that cause fluorescence. All of the postcards
contain more silica on the recto than the verso, presumably
due to silicates added during the paper’s production to
create the desired velvety surface. Most of the paper
supports are composed almost entirely of softwood
bleached sulfite fibers, with only traces of other materials, fig. 3  Verso of Kertész’s Mondrian’s Glasses and Pipe (see fig. 9), showing the stamping,
with the exception of Mondrian (1926; see fig. 15), whose including the manufacturer’s logo
support contains about ninety percent softwood bleached fig. 4  Verso of a photographic postcard manufactured by R. Guilleminot,
sulfite fibers and a significant amount (seven percent) of Boespflug et Cie
hardwood bleached sulfite fibers. XRF analysis also suggests fig. 5  Verso of a photographic postcard manufactured by R. Guilleminot,
that Mondrian has a thinner baryta layer than the others, Boespflug et Cie, dated January 2, 1917

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company name, and a version with the horsehead alone
was in circulation by the end of World War I (figs. 4, 5).
The company advertised in trade publications and pub-
lished price lists, and according to a 1924 price list, it
offered no fewer than nine different cartes postales (fig. 6).
(Some of these papers were available in standard sizes as
well as postcards.) It is possible to eliminate from the
list some of the papers, such as Citrate, a printing-out
paper. But the postcard stock, perhaps a gaslight paper (a
slow developing-out paper ideal for contact printing), has
not been identified with certainty. One of the artist’s
account books, from November 1, 1926, to January 31, 1927,
contains some clues about his materials, with a list of
expenses that includes everyday items such as rent, meals,
and soap, as well as — tantalizingly — paper, plates, films,
and enlarging equipment, but none of the entries refer
explicitly to postcards.18
The varying margins, irregular sizes, and graphite
inscriptions give these works an idiosyncratic personal
quality. Four of the twelve postcards in the Walther
Collection were trimmed by Kertész to the edge of the
images, leaving them without margins, and he printed
the other eight with margins, some very narrow and some
very wide, so they do not readily seem like postcards. He
trimmed them precisely, probably with a sharp tool: under
magnification some of the edges exhibit the sort of
directional fine cracks that are consistent with the use of
a blade (fig. 7). The images are not necessarily centered on
the paper from top to bottom or even from side to side
(figs. 8–11). All of these eight, except for an untitled self-
fig. 6  Page from a catalogue published by R. Guilleminot, Boespflug et Cie, listing
portrait (July 1927; MoMA 1725.2001), are signed and
photographic papers available for purchase. August 1924. George Eastman House inscribed “Paris” in graphite on the recto. None of them are

Together these observations and data tell us that the

twelve photographs are not identical, although Kertész is
said to have exclusively used one paper, identifiable by its
logo. One possible explanation is that the manufacturer
may have changed the formula for the paper stock during
production. Precisely which of the Guilleminot papers
Kertész used, however, is still unknown. The art historian
Christian Caujolle has written that Kertész sold portraits of
the artists and intellectuals he met at the Café du Dôme
in Montparnasse, and that these were printed on Guilleminot
postcard stock, but otherwise there is little mention of the
paper in major publications about the artist.17
The Guilleminot company, one of the oldest manufac-
turers of photographic papers, films, and chemicals in France,
was based in Paris, although paper production had been
moved to Chantilly in 1892. On the verso of the Kertész
postcards is the company’s classic horsehead logo (Chantilly
is home to a famous racecourse), with a five-pointed star fig. 7  Detail of Kertész’s Mondrian (see fig. 15), showing cracking along an edge
beneath it (fig. 3). Early Guilleminot postcards bear only the consistent with the use of a blade

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Above:
fig. 8  André Kertész. Latin Quarter (Étienne Beöthy’s Cousin). 1927. Gelatin silver print,
c. 1927, image: 3 ⅞ × 3 1/16" (9.8 × 7.8 cm), sheet: 4 15/16 × 3 3/16" (12.6 × 8.1 cm). The
Museum of Modern Art, New York. Thomas Walther Collection. Grace M. Mayer Fund
(MoMA 1718.2001)

Right:
fig. 9  André Kertész. Mondrian’s Glasses and Pipe. 1926. Gelatin silver print, c. 1928,
image: 3 ⅛ × 3 11/16" (7.9 × 9.3 cm), sheet: 3 ⅜ × 5 ⅜" (8.5 × 13.6 cm). The Museum of
Modern Art, New York. Thomas Walther Collection. Grace M. Mayer Fund
(MoMA 1721.2001)

fig. 10  André Kertész. Grands Boulevards. 1926. Gelatin silver print, 1926–35, image:
3 1/16 × 4 5/16" (7.8 × 10.9 cm), sheet: 3 5/16 × 5 1/16" (8.4 × 12.9 cm). The Museum of
Modern Art, New York. Thomas Walther Collection. Gift of Thomas Walther
(MoMA 1728.2001)

fig. 11  André Kertész. Magda Förstner. 1926. Gelatin silver print, c. 1929, image: 3 9/16
× 1 ½" (9.1 × 3.8 cm), sheet: 5 ⅛ × 1 11/16" (13 × 4.3 cm), mount: 14 ½ × 10 11/16" (36.8 ×
27.2 cm). The Museum of Modern Art, New York. Thomas Walther Collection. Gift of
Thomas Walther (MoMA 1731.2001)

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fig. 12  André Kertész. Magda, Mme Beöthy, M. Beöthy, and Unknown Guest, Paris.
1926–29. Gelatin silver print, c. 1929, image: 3 ⅛ × 3 ⅞" (7.9 × 9.8 cm), sheet:
3 5/16 × 5 3/16" (8.4 × 13.2 cm). The Museum of Modern Art, New York. Thomas
Walther Collection. Gift of Thomas Walther (MoMA 1732.2001)

wet stamped (stamped with the photographer’s name, so

that he could receive credit for it), presumably because they
were small prints, not meant for reproduction.
The postcards are beautifully executed and finished
works. Mondrian’s Studio (1926; MoMA 1722.2001) is one of
several prints made from a single negative, as Kertész
refined this now-famous image by cropping it. Most of the
prints, such as Magda, Mme Beöthy, M. Beöthy, and Unknown
Guest, Paris (1926–29; fig. 12), have been expertly retouched
or etched with a sharp tool in order to remove technical
flaws in the image, such the dust spots that inevitably occur
during printing (fig. 13). Kertész also retouched his negatives
to reduce what might be considered flaws in the appearance
of his subjects, such as, in Mondrian (fig. 15), the lines
around the artist’s mouth (fig. 16). Other prints show slightly
more invasive interventions, where various design elements
have been reinforced with an unidentified medium that has
been so skillfully applied with a brush that it is difficult to see
even under magnification (fig. 14). Such subtle alterations
have been used by photographers since the invention of the fig. 13  Detail of Kertész’s Magda, Mme Beöthy, M. Beöthy, and Unknown Guest, Paris,
medium. The retouching applied to the image, on Mondrian’s showing fine etching
hairline, is less subtle: it seems unnecessary to the composi- fig. 14  Detail of Kertész’s Magda, Mme Beöthy, M. Beöthy, and Unknown Guest, Paris,
tion and more likely was added to produce a more flattering showing subtle brushed-on retouching to the shoes

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fig. 16  Detail of Kertész’s Mondrian, showing retouching to negative to lighten the lines
around the subject’s mouth

fig. 15  André Kertész. Mondrian. 1926. Gelatin silver print, c. 1928, image: 4 5/16 × 3 ⅛" fig. 17  Detail of Kertész’s Mondrian, showing retouching on the image to the
(10.9 × 7.9 cm), sheet: 5 3/16 × 3 ¼" (13.2 × 8.2 cm). The Museum of Modern Art, New subject’s hair
York. Thomas Walther Collection. Gift of Thomas Walther (MoMA 1720.2001)

likeness (fig. 17). Although this is another common surfaces. Géza Blattner (1925; MoMA 1716.2001) is very clean
technique used by many photographers, it is an alteration on the recto under normal illumination; in raking light,
of the image rather than compensation for a technical flaw; however, faint silver mirroring is visible in smudges that create
if the retouching is original, it may argue against Kertész’s an uneven appearance (fig. 18). On the verso of the print,
assertions about the nature of photography. indistinct and grimy shadows around the inscription indicate
Overall, the photographs are in excellent condition, that the photograph was cleaned as much as possible to
and there is little fading or discoloration and no major reduce the amount of surface dirt without disrupting the
physical damage, such as large creases or tears. There is graphite inscriptions (fig. 19). Gurbo has observed that most
evidence in most of them of conservation treatment, and of the postcards he has examined exhibit some degree of
they are generally free of surface grime and accretions. silver mirroring.19 The lack of it on some postcards, as well as
Silver mirroring, a deterioration process that causes a the surface disruption of others, strengthens my conjecture
metallic sheen to form on dark areas of the image, com- about previous conservation treatments.
monly occurs on photographic papers containing the Inpainting, or retouching done by someone other than
matting agents (such as silica) that create velvety surfaces, the photographer or photographer’s proxy, is often present in
and it is clearly visible in some of the Kertész works and this group of prints. It is usually done to replace original
more faintly in others. Some of the postcards appear to retouching lost during previous treatment, less frequently
have been cleaned or treated to reduce the silver mirroring, when a flaw in an image, acceptable perhaps when the
which would explain the fine abrasions present on their photograph was made, is later deemed objectionable. If

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fig. 18  Raking-light view of Kertész’s Géza Blattner (MoMA 1716.2001), showing faint
silver mirroring

fig. 19  View of the verso of Kertész’s Géza Blattner, showing surface dirt and
inscriptions

similar mediums and techniques are used, it can be difficult for use as exhibition prints. Kertész used a variety of mount
to determine whether the applied medium is retouching materials, including a “cockled-surface” paper, which has
applied by the photographer or inpainting applied later. On been described as vellum, and others, including poster
the Kertész postcards the inpainting is likely to be the board.20 For exhibition prints, Kertész is thought to have
work of different individuals. Some of it is crudely executed, preferred single-weight papers mounted to the cockled-
such as the unrefined, warm-toned inpainting on the artist’s surface vellum, and he printed some of the same images on
chin in Mondrian (fig. 20), which is quite dissimilar from both postcard and single-weight paper.21 Mlle Jaffée (1926;
the other examples. Given the value and desirability of MoMA 1719.2001) is printed on matte single-weight paper
Kertész’s postcards, it is not at all surprising that they have mounted to laid paper (perhaps a lingering Pictorialist
undergone conservation or restoration treatments to influence), but the image exists also on postcard stock.22
aesthetically enhance them.
Although Kertész sent some of his postcards to family Kertész’s photographs on postcard stock are among his
and friends, not one of the postcards in the Walther most iconic images, but he only made them for a short time,
Collection was stamped and sent through the post; rather, if and the last one was probably printed in 1928. The purchase
they were mailed, they must have been enclosed in enve- of the Leica camera and, possibly, the discontinuation of
lopes. Étienne Beöthy in His Studio (1928; MoMA 1729.2001) the Guilleminot postcard stock may have led him to turn to
is the only one of the twelve that remains in an artist’s mount, other papers and processes. And after his first exhibition at
although others may have been mounted at an earlier time Galerie Au Sacre du Printemps in Paris, in 1927, his work
began to be shown in traveling exhibitions, to be purchased
by museums, and to appear in art magazines, literary journals,
and the popular press. He would have therefore needed to
produce larger prints for exhibition and reproduction. As a
successful photojournalist, with an income from assignments
and commissions, he had less time for his personal work.
Although “postcard” has become a shorthand for these
prints, it is probably more useful to consider them photo-
graphs made on postcard stock. They are not materially
identical, but similar. They are recognizable as a group by
their scale, delicacy, tone, and finish, and they remain a
source of fascination. Kertész’s use of postcard stock was
distinctive and personal: the format itself seemed not to
matter, as he obliterated its original size and purpose by
trimming and mounting. Peter MacGill, former director of
fig. 20  Detail of Kertész’s Mondrian, showing warm-toned inpainting on the
LIGHT Gallery and current president of Pace/MacGill Gallery,
subject’s chin tells of traveling in 1981 on a train with Kertész, when the

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artist produced from his pocket a set of twenty or thirty of reason, after many years, the postcards were still important
his postcards from the 1920s.23 Were they too valuable to to Kertész. What had started as a set of limitations — cost,
leave at home? Too personal? Was Kertész, recognizing their size, practicality — became, in Kertész’s hands, work of
desirability, carrying with him what Maria Morris Hambourg enduring beauty.
has called an “exhibition in his pocket”?24 Whatever the

notes

1. Robert Gurbo, “Tiny Pictures, 7. David Travis, “Kertész and His 15. Phillips, Travis, and Naef note 17. Christian Caujolle, “André
but Sharp,” in Gurbo and Bruce Contemporaries in Germany and Kertész’s use of “velox” paper, a Kertész,” Camera International,
Silverstein, André Kertész: The France,” in Sandra S. Phillips, slow-reacting silver chloride French edition, no. 32 (Spring
Early Years (New York: W. W. Travis, and Weston Naef, André developing-out paper marketed 1992): 62.
Norton, 2005), pp. 7–8. Kertész: Of Paris and New York as “gaslight paper.” The process
(London: Thames & Hudson, was invented by the Nepera 18. Kertész account book,
2. Sarah Greenough, “A 1985), p. 59. Chemical Company (marketed November 1926–January 1927,
Hungarian Diary, 1894–1925,” in under the trade name Velox) and Mission du Patrimoine
Greenough, Gurbo, and Sarah 8. Preface to Phillips, Travis, and purchased by Kodak in 1899. Photographique, Paris. The author
Kennel, André Kertész Naef, André Kertész, p. 13. The paper used by Kertész could consulted a photocopy housed in
(Washington, D.C.: National have been a gaslight paper from the Department of Photographs,
Gallery of Art, 2005), p. 5; 9. André Kertész, Kertész on a European manufacturer; his Metropolitan Museum of Art,
Kertész changed his name Kertész: A Self-Portrait (New York: accounts contain tantalizing refer- New York.
from Andor to André when he Abbeville, 1985), p. 32. ences to what might be Sedar
arrived in Paris in 1925. (a Guilleminot paper) and Lypa 19. Gurbo, conversation with
10. Greenough, “To Become a (perhaps Lypaluxe paper made MoMA conservators, March 20,
3. Ibid., p. 6. Virgin Again,” p. 64; Ben Lifson, by Lumière). “Catalogue,” in 2013.
“Kertész at Eighty-five,” Portfolio 1, Phillips, Travis, and Naef, André
4. Michel Frizot, “From Andor no. 2 (June–July 1979): 62. Kertész, p. 259. On the artist’s 20. Phillips, Travis, and Naef,
Kertész to André Kertész,” in giving up of the postcard format, André Kertész, p. 256.
Frizot and Annie-Laure 11. Thomas Cooper and Paul Hill, see ibid., p. 266; and Gurbo,
Wanaverbecq, André Kertész “Interview with André Kertész,” telephone conversation with the 21. Ibid., p. 266.
(New Haven, Conn.: Yale Camera, no. 11 (November 1979): author, October 2013.
University Press, 2010), p. 23; 33. 22. The postcard version is in the
and Greenough, “A Hungarian 16. Raking light photomicro- collection of Nicholas Pritzker.
Diary,” p. 8. 12. Frizot, “The Distortions,” in graphs of the surface of each of
Frizot and Wanaverbecq, André the photographs in the Walther 23. Peter MacGill, telephone
5. Gurbo, “Tiny Pictures, but Kertész, p. 157. Kertész visited the Collection may be viewed on the conversation with the author,
Sharp,” p. 18. park in 1930 with Carlo Rim, the Object:Photo website (see the May 27, 2014.
editor-in-chief of Vu, to make “Surface” tab on the page for each
6. See Greenough, “To Become photographs in the funhouse. print). For more information 24. Maria Morris Hambourg,
a Virgin Again, 1925–1936,” in about Messier’s research for the telephone conversation with the
Greenough, Gurbo, and Kennel, 13. Greenough, “To Become a Walther Collection, see “Texture author, May 23, 2014.
André Kertész, p. 69. Virgin Again,” p. 62. Imaging for Surface Texture” in
the Materials Reference section
14. Thomas Walther Collection of this website. For a discussion of
research files, Department of this research and its applications,
Conservation, The Museum of see Messier’s essay “Image Isn’t
Modern Art, New York. The Everything: Revealing Affinities
research was conducted by Lee across Collections through the
Ann Daffner in 2013. Language of the Photographic
Print,” on this website.

Citation:
Nancy Reinhold. “Exhibition in a Pocket: The Cartes Postales of André
Kertész.” In Mitra Abbaspour, Lee Ann Daffner, and Maria Morris
Hambourg, eds. Object:Photo. Modern Photographs: The Thomas Walther
Collection 1909–1949. An Online Project of The Museum of Modern Art.
New York: The Museum of Modern Art, 2014. http://www.moma.org/
interactives/objectphoto/assets/essays/Reinhold.pdf.

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