“Success is not final, failure is not fatal. It is the courage to continue that counts.”
~ Winston Churchill
(1874-1965)
"Within every man and woman, a secret is hidden, and as a photographer it is my task to reveal it, if I can. The revelation, if it comes at all, will come in a small fraction of a second, with an unconscious gesture, a gleam of the eye, a brief lifting of the mask that all humans wear to conceal their innermost selves from the world. In that fleeting interval of opportunity, the photographer must act, or lose his or her prize."
~ Yousuf Karsh
(1908-2002)
This is probably one of the greatest 20th-century portraits ever taken. It captures the true magic of photography, where subject matter and artistic talent collaborate unexpectedly to create a moment in history that endures forever and inspires each new generation.
This portrait launched Karsh’s international career. The story of how it came to be has become legendary. Churchill was visiting the Parliament in Ottawa, Canada, to gain support for his war efforts. He gave a stirring speech and was keen to get back home to London as soon as he could to save the free world. The Canadian prime minister was keen to have a photo taken of the great man to commemorate the occasion. Churchill was unaware of this.
Karsh was engaged to take the portrait, and he set up his lights in the Speaker’s chamber. In Karsh’s words, this is what happened next: “I switched on my lights and immediately Churchill was taken by surprise. He said: ‘What is going on?’ And I said: ‘Sir, I hope I will be fortunate enough to make a worthy photograph of this historic occasion.’ He banged at the nearest table he could. He said: ‘Why was I not told?’ His associates and entourage laughed, and that did not help matters at all. He was given a fresh cigar, and he was chewing at it rather seriously and resenting the whole situation. Ultimately, he said: ‘You may take one.’
I immediately went to him with an ashtray, and I said: ‘If you please, sir.’ He would not hear of removing the cigar from his mouth. Immediately, I went back to my camera to make sure everything was ready. And without any premeditation, but with infinite respect, I took the cigar from his lips. By the time I got back the four feet I was from the camera, he looked so belligerent he could have devoured me.
Immediately, with a great smile, he said: ‘You may take another one.’ And this time, he straightened up. He looked very benevolent, very benign. I took a second one. He walked towards me and shook my hand and said: ‘You can even make a roaring lion stand still to be photographed’.”
Such is how photo portrait history was made.