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Kathy Ryan
‘It’s a balance between art and content. With art, it’s pure visual delight. And because it’s The New York Times Magazine, we balance that with content. At the same time, most of the photographs have to deliver information. But we often have leeway for the photos to be more interpretive and elaborate beyond the text – the photography is expected to be a powerful voice unto itself.’
For two decades, photo editor Kathy Ryan has been advancing visual boundaries, both at The New York Times Magazine, and as an author, teacher, mentor and exhibition curator.
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Ryan’s open mind and talent for pairing photographers with stories became apparent in 1997, when she assigned Jack Pierson, Abelardo Morell and Nan Goldin, among others, to a feature about Times Square, bringing an innovative artist-photographer approach to the magazine’s photojournalism. The theatrical, large-format images of poverty in unexpected places that Taryn Simon took for her in 2000 marked another turning point for photography in the magazine. Other leading photographers commissioned by Ryan include Lee Friedlander, Ryan McGinley, Lauren Greenfield, Gregory Crewdson, Massimo Vitali, Thomas Struth, Paolo Pellegrin, Lynsey Addario, Gilles Peress, Eugene Richards and Dan Winters.
Under Ryan’s direction the magazine has won awards from the Art Directors Club and the Society of Publication Designers, as well as the Best Use of Photography award in the 2006 Pictures of the Year competition. She herself received a Picture Editor of the Year award at the 1997 Visa pour l’ Image festival in Perpignan, the first annual Lucie Award for Picture Editor of the Year in 2003, and a lifetime achievement award from the Griffin Museum.
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Ryan was a curator, alongside Martin Parr, Lesley A. Martin and Tim Barber, of the inaugural New York Photo Festival in May 2008. Earlier this year she guest-curated ‘Dutch Seen: New York Rediscovered’, an exhibition of work by contemporary Netherlands photographers – including Misha de Ridder, Rineke Dijkstra, Charlotte Dumas and Hendrik Kerstens (see his ‘Napkin’ on the cover) – at the Museum of the City of New York, to mark the 400th anniversary of the Dutch arrival in Manhattan.
Her review of three decades of photography in the New York Times Magazine will be published by Aperture in 2010.
Liz Danzico What is the role of a photo editor?
Kathy Ryan Simply to make the photography happen, from the initial idea to the page. Some days, it’s being a coach back in the New York office. Other days, it’s discovering great work in a gallery, and getting that artist to shoot for the magazine for the first time.
The most important part of what I do is ‘casting’ – choosing the photographer. The person you choose to do an assignment defines it. If that match is right, it’s smooth sailing.
LD Did you always want to be a picture editor?
KR I didn’t have that talent early on. I might have had the inherent ability to see a good picture, but not the confidence. I’ve gained that confidence at the New York Times, working with editors who have conveyed to me what matters about storytelling and how to present stories in a provocative way.
Knowing whether a picture is good or not is a constant evolution grounded in real work. Recognising formal qualities is somewhat inherent, in the way that someone might have a good ear. The other part – how to juxtapose images so that they’re meaningful or knowing what makes a good cover – I was fortunate enough to learn.
LD How did you come to evolve your trademark juxtapositions of the unexpected –assigning an artist to a piece of photojournalism or placing a young photographer alongside a seasoned one?
KR I take personal satisfaction in that. We dart from the unknowns to the most well known in the world. It’s almost like having an inner dialogue: ‘Is this story best served by a documentary approach? Is it best served by a fine art approach?’ (I hate labels; I only do that to simplify.) I believe in blurring boundaries between genres. A documentary photographer does a fashion assignment; an art photographer goes out to do a newsworthy subject. That cross-pollination results in wonderful and original photography. Because great themes repeat themselves, the photos have a responsibility to tell stories in a fresh way, so people will pay attention.
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LD What makes a good photograph?
KR It’s a balance between art and content. With art, it’s pure visual delight. And because it’s the New York Times Magazine, we balance that with content. At the same time, most of the photographs have to deliver information [but] they don’t have to literally illustrate the text. We often have leeway for the photos to be more interpretive and elaborate beyond the text. The photography is expected to be a powerful voice unto itself.
LD Yet photographers can’t possibly always have the foresight to be shooting well in advance of a story. How does it happen?
KR What people don’t always know about photojournalists is their extraordinary timing, and their ability to see something before others do. They’re moving with tremendous speed, so when something becomes newsworthy, they’ve already been engaged in the story. That said, we always have to think ahead. We go on press a full ten days before the magazine comes out.
For example we did a story on refugees, focusing on three camps – a new one in Chad, just three weeks old; a nine- or ten-year-old Chechen camp where people were living in much more elaborate tents with gardens out front; and one in Pakistan that had existed for generations. Here was a newsworthy story being told by an artist, [photographer] Simon Norfolk. So even journalistic stories can be a wonderful marriage of an artist and an intensely newsworthy story. When you take a step back to tell the story of refugees in a different way, it can be presented with a more interpretive vision.
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LD How did you feel when it was discovered that Edgar Martins’ images in the picture essay ‘Ruins of the Second Gilded Age’ had, despite claims to the contrary, been digitally altered?
KR Nothing like this has ever happened. I regret that this meaningful and timely piece has been invalidated.
LD But many photographers do ‘correct’ their work. To what extent does your own team retouch or manipulate work when the story or aesthetics demands it?
KR We don’t manipulate photography. We send all photographers we work with the ‘Guidelines on Integrity’ for photo-graphy and images. Here’s an excerpt:
‘Images in our pages that purport to depict reality must be genuine in every way. No people or objects may be added, rearranged, reversed, distorted or removed from a scene (except for the recognised practice of cropping to omit extraneous outer portions). Adjustments of colour or gray scale should be limited to those minimally necessary for clear and accurate reproduction, analogous to the “burning” and “dodging” that formerly took place in darkroom processing of images.’
LD You once said that curating an exhibition requires ‘different muscles’ to editing a magazine. What are the differences?
KR Curating a show is much looser; you only need to put really good work up on the walls. With editing, there’s a different level of pressure because the photography has to achieve so much. Curating must be disciplined so when viewers walk through the show they’re changed in some way. The juxtapositions change viewers emotionally and intellectually.
LD Editing has a lot more masters to serve. You want photos to look great, to deliver the message and to convey information.
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LD In ‘Dutch Seen: New York Rediscovered’ at the Museum of the City of New York, about 85 per cent of the work was created exclusively for the show. How did you go about telling the story of New York?
KR Each [photographer] was different. Hendrik Kerstens’ portraits are extremely contemporary, and yet extremely traditional. People are seduced by beautiful photos. Then they see a garbage bag on the head, or something else unexpected, and realise there is wit and humour. Wit and photography are not often combined. Wijnanda Deroo had the idea to do restaurant interiors because they told the story of Manhattan. Restaurants are historical – as pure documents of today – and beautiful as interiors in a graphic sense. Two hundred years from now, these photographs will have that resonance that comes from an old picture.
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