When Herbert Quick was five years old and living with his parents in Manistique, Michigan, his father, a banker and amateur photographer, encouraged the boy's interest in photography by handing him an old wet-plate camera that had belonged to Quick's grandfather. This was not the sort of camera one would think to hand to a child of five, but Quick nonetheless was taught to coat the plates himself, expose them in the camera, and then to process and make prints from them. For a dark room he and his father used an old chicken coop, which no doubt added to the tedium of an already tedius procedure. An aunt took pity on Quick, however, and provided him with a Kodak box camera that was much more convenient to use, allowing him to range further afield to find his subjects. A few of the surviving photographs made with the box camera have been included here--a small print of a Michigan landscape, an elegant little still life, and several photographs depicting circus scenes.

. It would be easy to dismiss these first efforts as the learning exercises of a child, but the choice of subjects and the quality of the results are so entirely beyond our expectations that we must regard them at very least as the first solid products of a natural, evolving talent. Moreover, the aesthetic he denies today, except as afterthought, is everywhere present in these early works--clean, sophisticated, and confident of its ground. Compared to the work produce in later years they hold up surprisingly well and provide valuable insights that help us understand the body of work now before us.

Quick's formal training as a photographer was taken at Art Center School of Design in Los Angeles, California in the late1940s after his return from service with the United States Navy during World War II. At Art Center he learned important technical fundamentals of camera work and darkroom technique, especially in commercial applications, but it was his contact with the likes of Edward Weston that perhaps most dramatically shaped the character of his work and set the course his life would take from then on. Representing this period are a number of photographs ranging from a marvelous portrait of jazz musician Kid Ory to his first crisp California landscapes.

While a student at Art Center he visited Weston in Carmel with portfolio in hand. Weston received him kindly, offered criticism and suggestions, this despite the fact that Weston was suffering greatly from the ravages of Parkinson's disease by then. Quick would go away, make more photographs, and then return to Weston with the results. This contact continued for some time and allowed Quick to establish an intimacy with Weston's approach to photography and to place his own ideas within new and more profound context. We can see in the landscapes and architectural imagea his progress from techical mastery toward a more profound application of purpose in his approach to composition and light. The photographs made on the California coast or in the Bay Area of northern California are particularly interesting in this regard.

Quick was also befriended by Dorthea Lange in Berkeley. She even retained him for a brief period to work for her as a printer. Quick characterizes the experience as interesting, but says that Lange was difficult to get along with. And, during these same years, Quick attended the classes taught by Fred Archer and Ansel Adams at Art Center where the efficacies of the zone system in the making of photographs was then being promoted. Quick had already adopted the zone system, but was eager for information that would guide him in its application.

In later years Quick found a friend in the person of Max Yavno who helped him develop his technique and discover the essential style that would characterize his work from then on. Yavno became both friend and confidant over the years, and is counted among a handful of photographers who Quick truly admires and respects. The two of them developed a deep collaborative relationship that would end only with Yavno's death a few years ago. They were kindred spirits in many ways, both equally dedicated to photography to the point of sacrifice. Quick has never married, maintains an almost hermit like existence in house that is more photographic studio than home, and devotes most of his waking life to the pursuit of photography. He estimates that perhaps half of his lifetime income has been spent on photography and its material requirements. Judging from the contents of his house, studio, and shops it seems a conservative estimate.

Quick's career in photography now spans 65 years, and, at age 71, he seems fit enough to continue for a good many more years. He is widely regarded as one the medium's most able and knowledgeable practitioners. Few can match his technical skill or his mastery of the underlying science of photography. And in sustained productivity he has only small competition. He makes no claims for his work other than to call it "documentary" in nature, the bulk of it produced using an 8 X 10 view camera, including a finely crafted camera made by Quick himself. In 1985, Collin Gardner of the Los Angeles Times described Quick's documentation of the changing California landscape as an effort undertaken "with as much attraction as regret," but that even in the most alienating environment he is able to infuse the images with mystery. And this seems a fair enough characterization. Quick's sharp, richly rendered photographs transform even the most unassuming subjects into monuments to moments of "things as they are."

Most impressive, however, has been the sustained integrity of Quick's effort from start to finish; he has successfully avoided the temptations of fads and fashions, often at a cost to his professional standing, and he has insisted without thought of compromise on the very aesthetic he so carefully denies. In fact, there is only a precious handful of photographers working today who have produced so much good work with as much honest conviction over so many years [It should be noted here that Quick takes pride in the fact that he never once was tempted to apply for a grant to do his work; he regards grants as "welfare for artists"]. And this fact alone makes Quick, not only important as a photographer, but critically important as a teacher by example to the young who would be photographers. Quick has been a teacher, of course, one of the best--the sort who is demanding beyond measure, impatient with laziness, but tireless and generous to those who respond with hard work, interest, and who show a bit of talent in the use of the medium.

Finally, whether we approach Quick's work as art or as documentation, it needs no amplification from me to make it accessible. As art it is unencumbered by theory or posture. As documentation it is authoritative, clean, and to always the point. It is my hope that the presentation on these pages is equally clean and straightforward. The viewer need only accept that the choice of photographs and their arrangement was mine alone to make, and that I alone am responsible for the words you are reading.

E.R. Beardsley

December 1996