Gerda Taro: Pioneer War Photographer

Gerda Taro via Wikimedia Commons

Photography is a relatively recent art form. Photojournalism even more so. But photography’s power to capture ‘reality’ was soon applied to document historic events, including the various wars that scarred the 19th century.

It was recognised as an opportunity to share images with a wider audience of what war really looked like, as opposed to its usually heroic depiction in classical painting, became a vehicle for commercial gain, and was used by governments to shape public opinion.

Photographs from the middle of the century – covering the Mexican-American War, the Crimean War and the American Civil War – illustrate the changes that took place in the representation of conflict, photographic techniques and the public appetite for such images.

But they were hampered by the large format, wet-plate cameras used at the time. By contrast, the twentieth century witnessed a proliferation of war imagery, often gruesome, as photographic equipment became smaller and lighter, photographers embraced the opportunities to move into conflict zones and war took on global dimensions.  

Many of us may be able to identify one or two famous war photographers: Roger Fenton, Mathew Brady or Donald McCullin, to name a few. But they’re usually men.

Challenging tradition

As we celebrate International Women’s Day, it feels appropriate to take a look at a female war photographer, Gerda Taro (formerly Pohorylle), whose name is probably unfamiliar to many.

A Jewish refugee from Germany in 1933, where she was an active anti-Nazi, she ended up in Paris. Here she met André Friedmann, as he was then known, a photographer from Hungary also fleeing antisemitism and persecution. Friedman introduced her to photography, she provided him with some much-needed direction in his life, and they became both professional partners and lovers.

Both struggled to get work. The competition in Paris was intense. Recognising that their names identified them as immigrants and Jews, they reinvented themselves. He as Robert Capa, a supposedly successful American photographer, and she as Gerda Taro.

In the meantime, political tensions in Europe were rapidly increasing as Nazi Germany and Fascist Italy adopted increasingly aggressive foreign policies. In July 1936 the Spanish Civil War started as a result of the Franco-led fascist insurrection against the legitimate Republican Government.

Like many on the Left, Taro and Capa wanted to support the Republican cause. They travelled to Spain the following month to cover the conflict for the French press. They became actively involved – reflecting their political beliefs as well as their personal experiences – and were soon photographing the plight of refugees, the bombing of Loyalist cities and frontline conflict itself.

This was an inevitably dangerous business. And they took increasing risks to ensure they captured the brutality of the war. Initially working as a team, Taro struck out on her own to cover the Republican offensive in Brunete in July 1937. She was crushed by an out-of-control Loyalist tank in the confusion of the subsequent retreat and died of her wounds the next day.

Taro has the sad distinction of being the first female photographer to be killed while reporting on war.

She had developed her own style, distinct from that of Capa. Tara’s photographs were intimate portrayals of individuals coping with the destructive power of war and the physical and emotional stresses this generates, who, yet, retain their humanity. Her radical politics also informed her work. She covered militia women training on a beach, soldiers resting between battle and terrified civilians dealing with bombing raids.

Photography helps people to see

She aimed to record the suffering of war with her photography but also use it to alert the world to the dangers of fascism. Taro’s clear political convictions provided added depth to her work. And her photographs carry a striking emotional charge which sets them apart from others of that period.

Taro’s funeral in Paris was a grand affair. She was a respected anti-fascist figure and tens of thousands of people came out onto the streets to mark her bravery and her contribution to the struggle for democracy. The media proclaimed her a role model for young women everywhere.  

Image by Dorieo via Wikimedia Commons

She had rightly carved out a name for herself as an independent photojournalist in her own right. She was a female pioneer in the male-dominated world of photojournalism.

So why was she subsequently overshadowed by Capa, who went on to develop a reputation as one of the finest war photographers in the world? There are probably several reasons for this. Many of her photographs were incorrectly attributed to Robert Capa in the confusion after her death. Others were lost. And patriarchal assumptions about the ability of female photographers to match the efforts of male photographers, particularly in the violent context of the Spanish Civil War, must have played a part.  

Bearing witness

It is only recently that Taro’s abilities as a photojournalist have been fully recognised, following the discovery of 4,500 35mm negatives of the Spanish Civil War by Robert Capa, Gerda Taro, and Chim (David Seymour), which had been thought lost since 1939. The number of photographs attributed to Taro has risen significantly as a result.   

It is tragic that we’ll never know how she might have developed her skills as a photographer.  

But as we celebrate the achievements of women on International Women’s Day, and highlight the ongoing struggle of women against their continued oppression and exploitation, let’s remember Gerda Taro. And remember all the women who have been hidden from history for too long.